Across Japan (notes of a missionary)

Contents Preface Ezo Island Hakodate Nemoro Wata Cemetery and Shimbokuquay Among the Orthodox Kuriles Itrup Riding to Shibetsu Fisherman-hermit Return From Hakodate to Sapporo Sapporo Poromui Patriarch Prison and mines Muroran Talkative Jacob New places Flood Anglican sergeant major Mountain pass and the city of Masike Wakkanai In sight Sakhalin Otaru Ivanai Sutsu Utashima Kuromatsunai Back to Hakodate Applications. The first evangelist of Orthodoxy in Japan, Archbishop Nicholas (Kasatkin) 1. Childhood and educational years of Archbishop Nicholas 2. Travel and first years in Japan 3. The beginning of the founding of the Orthodox Church in Japan 4. The spread of Orthodoxy in Japan 5. The structure of the administration of the Japanese Orthodox Church 6. Divine services of the Orthodox Church in Japan 7. Translation department 8. Theological seminary, catechist school and women's spiritual education 9. Publishing house and library of the Mission 10. Church choir 11. Archbishop Nicholas and the Orthodox Church during the Russo-Japanese War 12. Help of Orthodox Japanese to Russian prisoners of war 13. The last years and death of Archbishop Nicholas The life and works of the author of this book - Archimandrite Sergius (in the world Ivan Nikolaevich Stragorodsky), later (from 1943) - the twelfth All-Russian Patriarch, left a noticeable mark on the history of the Russian Church of the late 19th - first half of the 20th centuries. Having graduated from the Nizhny Novgorod Theological Seminary in 1886, Ivan Nikolaevich Stragorodsky entered the 1st year of the St. Petersburg Theological Academy. On January 30, 1890, he took monastic vows and in the summer of the same year, after brilliantly defending his dissertation and receiving the degree of candidate of theology, he submitted a petition to the rector of the academy, His Eminence Bishop Anthony (Vadkovsky), with a request to send him to serve in the Japanese Orthodox Mission. A similar petition was submitted by his academic comrade, Hieromonk Arseny (Timofeev). In August 1890, after the case was considered by the Synod and procedural issues were resolved, both missionaries left St. Petersburg for Odessa, and from there to the Far East. In the month of October, Fr. Sergius arrived in Japan, and on the 20th - in Tokyo. Here he came under the jurisdiction of the head of the Russian mission in Japan, Bishop Nikolai (Kasatkin), who went down in history with the name “Apostle of Japan” and canonized by the Russian Orthodox Church in 1970. Vladyka Nikolai himself arrived in Japan as a hieromonk at the very beginning of the 1860s. The Japanese authorities of that time were extremely unkind to the preaching of Christianity, and the young pastor had to initially limit his activities only to serving in the Russian consular church. He devoted himself entirely to the spiritual self-improvement necessary to carry out the missionary feat, as well as to the in-depth study of the Japanese language and culture. Quite soon, Japanese lessons brought the first successes and after eight years Fr. Nikolai was able to express himself completely freely orally and read any texts. The first secret baptisms of the Japanese date back to 1868, marking the beginning of the preaching of Holy Orthodoxy on this land. In 1870, the Holy Synod granted the petition of Fr. Nicholas on the approval of a special Mission in Japan for preaching Orthodoxy and in 1871 Fr. Nicholas returned from a trip to Russia with the rank of archimandrite, having received another priest to help. And in 1880, in St. Petersburg, the episcopal consecration of Archimandrite Nikolai (Kasatkin) as Bishop of Revel took place - an event that marked a new stage in the preaching of the Gospel in the Land of the Rising Sun. By the time Hieromonk Sergius (Stragorodsky) arrived in Japan, the majestic Resurrection Cathedral had been built in Tokyo, and there were churches in some other cities. In 1888, 16 priests and 139 catechists served in Japan, and 2,420 baptisms were performed in that year alone 1 . Arriving in Japan, Hieromonk Sergius immediately became involved in the work of the Mission. He began to actively study the Japanese language and, thanks to his extraordinary linguistic abilities, already in December 1890 he was able to perform the liturgy in Japanese (however, Japanese words were written on paper in Russian letters). But, as his biographer reports, already in the fall of 1891 he was able to teach in Japanese (without using notes) a course in dogmatic theology to students at a local theological seminary 2 . The notes presented to the attention of readers were published in the first edition in Sergiev Posad in 1897. 3 They contain a lively and fascinating story by the missionary about the preaching of the Word of God on Japanese soil, about the work of the Orthodox Mission, about its glorious workers and, above all, of course, about the newly glorified Saint of God - St. Nicholas (Kasatkin) 4 . And today, almost a hundred years after the first edition of this book, it is read with undiminished interest. Continuing work on the series “Materials on the History of the Church,” the editorial board appeals to readers with a request to send the church historical materials at their disposal for publication as part of the series or in our new magazine, “Church Historical Bulletin,” which we began publishing in 1997. His Grace Nicholas had long been planning to visit the city of Nemoro and especially the Kuriles, former Russian subjects now living on the island. Sikotane. This is perhaps the only corner of Japan that has still remained unvisited, at least just passing through. In the summer of this year (1898) the wish could be fulfilled, and the Lord took me as his companion. This, at the same time, was the beginning of my real service to the Japanese Church. Before rewriting my travel diary, I will say a few words about the island of Ezo, at the northeastern end of which stands Nemoro. This large and rich island reminds many of our Siberia. It is also uncultivated and also promises much in the future. Its climate is also reputed to be harsh among the Japanese, and even birch is found in abundance in its virgin forests. In terms of political rights, this island has not yet been equalized with the rest of the empire; only very recently there has been talk of granting voting rights to old cities like Hakodate. Until now it is only a colony, governed by special laws. To complete the similarity with Siberia, the main Japanese prisons are located here, and the surplus population of old Japan has been coming here for a long time. Based on living conditions, the nature of the population, and other things, the island can be divided into two very different areas: a coastal, rather narrow strip (with which the South Kuril Islands are similar in living conditions and industries) and the entire interior of the island. The coast of Ezo and the Southern Kuril Islands have long been occupied by Japanese fishermen. The sea abounds all around with fish, seaweed, oysters, etc., which serves as the subject of profitable trade with old Japan and abroad. It is not surprising that enterprising people strive for these regions. Now the coast is almost continuously built up with fishermen's huts, fishing sheds, villages and entire cities. All this bears the stamp of temporaryness and fragility. The fisheries, of course, remain closed and deserted for most of the year, coming to life only during fishing. Cities and towns are entirely dependent on the sea. There is fish, cabbage and oysters do not disappear on the seashore, there are people in these cities, trade is brisk, the streets are noisy and crowded, the harbor is full of fishing boats. But for some reason the fish catch stopped for several years, and perhaps forever (as, for example, in Nemoro now), the city’s rich are going bankrupt, the fisheries are idle, the city is quiet, withering, its population is scattered. The only exceptions are the areas at the southwestern end, one might say, the tail of the island, where Hakodate is located: there the Japanese have been living a settled life for a long time, the cities there do not depend to such an extent on fishing, therefore they have already managed to form their own way of life, to give their inhabitants a special, definite character, perhaps as definite as the cities of old Japan. But this is only on the southeast coast. We meet real Siberia in the inner region of Ezo. Vast plains and mountains are covered with untouched, centuries-old forest, where it is not uncommon to see our familiar bear. The rich soil of the plains still awaits a farmer to clear it and cultivate it. In the depths of the mountains lie untouched mineral wealth, especially a lot of coal, they say. Finally, the forest itself could serve as an object of enrichment if there were some means of transporting it to the sea. Among these dense forests, here and there live the former inhabitants of the Japanese islands - the Ainu, a poor, downtrodden tribe who are somehow eking out the last days of their existence. The Ainu are no taller than the Japanese, with large, beautiful eyes, looking somehow meekly from under thick, black eyebrows. The men are a little like our peasants, they have long hair and large, wide beards, brightening up the Mongolian features of their faces. Women have a strange custom of painting their mustaches with dark blue paint. Their hovels are inconspicuous, they themselves are dirty and lazy, like all hunting peoples in general, they prefer to take what is ready from nature than to work on cultivating it. They do not show any particular inclination towards farming, although the government is trying in every possible way to accustom them to it. The Ainu (or vice versa) somehow do not get along with the Japanese; mutual marriages, generally speaking, are few. Divided across the island into separate tribes, distant from one another, the Ainu are naturally doomed to extinction. Their number is indeed decreasing every year. Of the Christian missions working in Japan, the Anglican mission, in particular, the missionary Bacheler, who is still alive, paid special attention to this people. He compiled the alphabet for the Ainu, started schools for them, where, first in the Ainos language, and then in Japanese, he taught them faith and everything necessary. Needless to say, what a blessing this is for the tribe. Thanks to him, many become Christians and somewhat rise above the low level of their hunting, semi-wild life. The Japanese population inside the island is also not yet numerous and is rather scattered. But colonization, especially recently, has been intensive and systematic. Even special books have been published with beautiful phototypical paintings, they describe the wealth of the island, its still unoccupied lands, mines, fishing, political rights, climate, in general all the conditions of life there, with instructions on where and to whom to turn if they wish to move. The government took care to divide the land available for cultivation into plots of 10 thousand tsubo (a tsubo is equal to approximately 36 square fathoms) and offers these plots for free to anyone who wants it. For twenty years the settlers are free from taxes; after ten years the plot becomes the property of the farmer (however, with some restrictions for the first time regarding the right to sell and transfer the land). It is possible to occupy more than one plot; apparently, there are no restrictions on this, only the occupied land must be cleared and cultivated. A plot that is not developed or abandoned is taken into the treasury after a certain period of time and can be taken over by anyone. Of course, there is an exception here: some aristocratic families that do not cultivate the land and are not involved in agriculture, nevertheless own almost entire provinces, distributing plots on their own behalf and for their own benefit. Settlers are coming to the island quite willingly: old Japan is becoming crowded. They will have enormous work ahead of them in their new place. Their future field is covered with impenetrable virgin forest. It’s good that clearings have been cut everywhere and more or less tolerable roads and trails have been built. It is necessary to fell all this virgin forest with your own hands, and remove it also without outside help. And there is nowhere to remove it and there is nothing on it; they burn it right there on the spot, although this is not easy with home remedies: some hundred-year-old giant does not quickly succumb to fire. For the first time, the settlers build themselves a shack house out of straw, so that if they fail, they can give up and leave without much loss. In winter you have to freeze in these shacks: the climate is little warmer than Siberian. Many cannot withstand all these disasters and exorbitant labor and, despairing of ever seeing clearer days, return to their homeland in complete ruin and disappointment: at home, too, everything has already been sold and spent. But those who endure begin to live well, their work and hardships are rewarded. – Under the same conditions, various mines, mineral springs, etc. are distributed; the discoverer can apply for and receive the right to ownership and development. To speed up colonization and somewhat help the military budget, the government started military settlements, thinking that it was planting the Cossacks. Each family that undertakes to send one soldier (father, after father son, grandson, etc.) receives a plot of land and even a ready-made house on it; no taxes are taken for this; even a subsidy is given for several years. But these settlements are said to have failed and appear to be close to closure. If you call such military or simple settlements a village, you won’t get an accurate idea of ​​them. The houses are each located on their own site, therefore, at a distance of 50, and sometimes 100 fathoms from one another. You drive straight as an arrow along the road, on the sides there are dense thickets alternating with freshly plowed new crops, on it stick out high, a fathom or more, cut stumps of giant trees, seedlings are emerging between them (barley, corn, millet, buckwheat, wheat will be born here, they are trying to sow rice and, they say, in other places the harvest is good), and every now and then they are lying around huge, somehow chopped off trunks, which the owner cannot remove, smoking fires are visible, burning excess forest. Here, somewhere, huddles a nondescript settler's shack with its thatched roof, beds of vegetables, and flower garden. Further, through the thickets, the neighboring yard peeks out from behind the golden sunflowers. In a military settlement, of course, there is more order: the houses are also far from one another, but already somewhat aligned in a line, a direct path leads to each from the road, sometimes there are gates with thick pillars leading onto the road (there is no need to spare wood here). If the villages that stretch for 15, 20 versts. Each village has its own “sigai,” that is, what can be called a village in the proper sense: here the houses are gathered into the street, a gendarme lives, there is something like a volost government, a post office, a blacksmith shop, there are shops, workshops and several hotels or inns. This is the administrative and social center of the village, around which surrounding farmers are grouped, this village is given its own village name, distances are counted from here, etc. This colonization is interesting for us, in particular, in the sense that many of our Christians are moving here from the islands of old Japan. In fishing villages or villages, a church is sometimes formed, which begins to influence the environment on its own. The conditions for such influence on Ezo can be said to be very favorable. People from different provinces, from different parts of Japan, come here, they settle side by side, forming one community. Because of this, firstly, there is no such diversity in dialects here; extremes and provincialisms are naturally smoothed out, and secondly, there is no such binding influence of the environment, legends, as is the case in all old cities and villages. Here everyone is his own master, his neighbors are not his orders. It turns out to be a kind of America in the Japanese way. That is why a change of faith does not surprise anyone and does not cause hatred or persecution. No one has either the right or the desire to impose his customs or his way of thinking on another. There is one less obstacle for Christian preaching. However, there is a downside. The difficult struggle with nature, the hardships that accompany the first settlement here, on the other hand, the general pursuit of work, profit, with the visible opportunity for everyone to soon get rich in the fields or mines, all this completely distracts many from spiritual issues and does not encourage them to listen to the sermon. Farmers, however, as in Russia, are closer to faith and more constant in it than fishermen and factory workers. Now, according to some, there is not a place on the island of Jezo in which there are not Christians. Some of them are unknown to the priest; these need to be found. Sometimes, quite unexpectedly, the railway interlocutor turns out to be an Orthodox Christian, and immediately, of course, we learn from him where he was baptized, where he now lives and everything else. Sometimes the whereabouts of a Christian are known, but the priest still cannot reach his village. In general, it must be said that the island of Ezo promises a lot for Christianity, perhaps much more than the areas of old Japan, where different traditions prevail. In ecclesiastical terms, the island of Jeso is divided into three parishes. One priest lives in Hakodate and presides over a small community in that city and the suburban village of Arikawa. The second priest lives in the main city of all Yezo - Sapporo, where all the highest administration of the colony is located. Strictly speaking, all of Hokkaido, as the island is called in the official language, belongs to this parish. The parish turned out to be very extensive in space and in the number of Christian communities. The reason for this disproportion is that the Hakodat Christians somewhat maintained the church at their own expense, that is, they paid the priest’s salary, spent money on heating and lighting the church, minor repairs, the mission provided maintenance for the catechists, bore all the land and other fees for the place and made major amendments to the church buildings, if such amendments were needed. To encourage other Christians to make such sacrifices for the church, a special priest was given to Hakodat Christians. The third priest lives in Nemoro, on the northeastern tip of the island, where the Kuril Islands ridge adjoins it. This parish is also small in number of Christians, but very scattered. It includes Nemoro with the military settlement of Wata (not far from the city), Kushiro, a city on the southern coast of the island, where you need to go from Nemoro 160 versts on horseback through the mountains. There is, of course, a sea route, but steamships from Nemoro very rarely, only by chance, call at Kushiro; to get there, you must first drive past Kushiro in Hakodate (about a day and a half) and then return to Kushiro (24 hours). The island of Sikotan with the Orthodox Kuriles living on it also belongs to this parish. Actually, it was for these latter that last year they decided to appoint a special priest in Nemoro. Sikotan lies 60 miles from Nemoro, about 8 hours by boat. But the ship goes there three or even twice a month, unless fogs interfere - and there are fogs in these seas almost constantly for some months. In addition to these main places that are so difficult to reach, Fr. Ignatius (priest Nemoro) is in charge of the entire northeastern part of Hokkaido and the Kuril Islands: here and there Christians live in villages, one and two at a time, and they should be visited from time to time if possible. – The purpose of our present trip was this new, recently formed parish of Father Ignatius Kato. We left Tokyo at 7 o'clock in the morning on August 5th New Style on the Northern Railway. Aomori, a port city (on the shore of the bay of the same name), is a 25-hour drive. The first half of the road, almost to Sendai, goes through a remarkably beautiful and rich plain, which simply amazes with its fertility - the other half goes through an area that is no longer so densely populated and not so diligently cultivated. Vast wastelands are common; Japanese livestock, especially horses, are bred here. Our Orthodox communities are scattered along the entire length of this road, divided between five or six priests. This is the most significant part of Orthodox Japan. There is a small community in Aomori itself, led by a catechist. This time we didn’t go anywhere: our goal was far ahead. On Saturday August 6th we were in Aomori at 8 am. From here it is a 6-7 hour boat ride along Aomori Bay and the Sungar Strait to Hakodate. There are many steamships, but the best, of course, belong to Nippon Yusen Kwaisha (Japan Postal and Steamship Society), which operates daily (sometimes even twice a day) trips here. These ships are clean, the table is Japanese, but very good - you can order European food, but this is not necessary. At 4 o'clock in the evening on the same day, we already walked around the characteristic Hakodat Mountain, which completely closes the roadstead from the sea, and a little later we walked up the wide streets of the city, to the upper tier of the Hakodat amphitheater, where the huge buildings of various missions were crowded together, and among them, from behind the green foliage, a small cross of our old wooden church modestly rose. Hakodate is the mother of our churches. Here, thirty-seven years ago, the Right Reverend Nicholas first set foot on Japanese soil, here our first Christians were baptized, who later spread the news of Christ throughout Japan. The current church site formerly belonged to the Russian consulate. It is very vast, has a lot of greenery, trees and flowers, and everything was built up: there was a very large house for the consul, houses for secretaries, a priest, a doctor, etc. Nearby there was a Russian naval hospital. But a strong fire destroyed almost all of these buildings, leaving only the consular church, the priest’s house and something else. There was no need to build again: with the change of government, our consul moved to Tokyo, and this place is occupied by our mission. The church is still intact, and Hakodat Christians gather there for worship. The surviving buildings house catechists, a priest and other church employees. Previously, there was a school here for children without distinction of religion, but now in Hakodate there are also well-established government schools, which, moreover, give their students certain rights. Our school, as it is not recognized by the government, cannot provide this, of course. Therefore, due to a lack of students (a common fate of all men's schools in all missions), it turned out to be possible to close it, to facilitate the mission. Now all that remains is the sewing school, which always has students. The greenery has grown even more (some trees were planted by the Reverend Nicholas), the trees almost hide both the church and the priest’s house (it also contains the room in which the Reverend Nicholas lived). In general, one gets the impression of an abandoned landowner's estate: the main house is no longer there, the garden is neglected, the yard is overgrown with grass, only a squat outbuilding and various buildings remain, in which signs of a quietly flowing life will rarely, rarely appear. All these are remnants of the past, full of experienced thoughts, now awakening memories. You can change your mind a lot while wandering around our Hakodat courtyard, under its shady trees, near the church and houses. I remember the quiet invisible work, the thoughts in which the history of the Orthodox Church in Japan began. Currently there are about 300 Christians in Hakodate. Since the founding of the Japanese church, 1,122 people have been baptized, more than 200 of them have already died, 800 people have scattered throughout Hokkaido and old Japan. Christians from other churches moved to the place of those who left, but, of course, in much smaller numbers. Such fluidity can be noticed in all churches, and it is not difficult to explain: those who are more likely to be baptized, of course, are those who have fewer obstacles to this, who are not so bound by the surrounding environment, and this is precisely the situation in which people who come to a famous city from the outside find themselves. That is why there are always many of them among those receiving baptism. But the aliens just as easily leave the place of their temporary settlement. Of course, in the way of spreading Christianity, such fluidity is useful, but for a private church it does a lot of damage, at least in one respect: temporary residents cannot care so much about the church, do not donate so willingly and generously to its needs, etc. The Hakodat Church, however, also has a fairly significant permanent core of old Christians, some of whom were baptized by the Most Reverend himself. Nicholas (there are, however, very few of them) and from Archimandrite Anatoly. They keep the church to themselves, preserve church customs, which they could learn from the Russian missionaries who lived here almost constantly. This especially needs to be said about women, who, as elsewhere, are more zealous for the church and more religious than men. Women form a brotherhood here, gather three times a month for mutual edification, donate together to the church, help the poor, etc. Divine services are performed in the church more regularly and with greater observance of the church charter and various Orthodox customs than anywhere else in Japan. The small church, of course, is already old, but it will serve for a long time, and I don’t want to rebuild it: this is the ancestor of Japanese churches. It also has a bell tower, from which ringing is always heard before and after services. The bells were cast at the time by the Reverend Nicholas himself (of course, with the help of a Japanese foundry master), cast to last: the walls are very thick. This makes the sound, perhaps, not the same as it could be, but they are durable and expensive for the Japanese church, according to the memories. Having prayed with the Christians that evening and the next day (Sunday) at mass (and the sermon was preached both times by the Bishop himself), having arranged some church affairs, we in the evening, accompanied by the priest and Christians, moved onto the ship of the same postal company. He left for Nemoro exactly at midnight. It was a clear moonlit night, we didn’t want to sleep, and we spent a long time admiring the delightful view of the Tumay roadstead and the city with its multi-colored lights, quietly rustling under the shadow of the mountain. The entire next day, August 8, we sailed safely on our Mutsu-maru. The day was clear, the sea was calm, although it was already the Great Ocean. At noon we passed Erimo-zaki, a cape lying approximately halfway along our route. There were only two of us in first class on the ship. There was also a European, probably a second class passenger. For some reason he avoided us, so there was no need to speak. Later we learned that this was a Baptist missionary who was going around the island of Ezo and, it seems, to the Ainos. Baptists generally don’t particularly like us, maybe even less than Catholics. However, in personal relationships, of course, no hostility is detected. The Orthodox bishops of the high-church party are treated best of all; sometimes they try too persistently to convince both ours and their Christians that we have the same faith with them. By the way, having learned that our mission was being founded in Korea, one of the Anglican missionaries there expressed his joy about this in a missionary magazine: our allies would come. On the morning of August 9, I went out on deck early, hoping to see Nemoro soon. But nothing was visible, the sea was covered with a light fog, the ship moved at the quietest speed, changing course several times and sometimes stopping. It was very fresh, despite the summer. “And why are they being dragged around like a turtle? Do they really not know the roads in their own sea? - I was annoyed, shivering from the cold in my summer cassock. Soon the breaker on the left turned white; this was an underwater rock, which must have been what they were looking for. The steamer immediately picked up speed, and after a while a long and low cape with a white lighthouse at the end appeared. This is one of the forks that ends the eastern corner of Jezo. The steamer must pass between the tip of the cape and a small island (there are many of them scattered around); The passage is very narrow and very dangerous in foggy conditions. Because of this one place (No-syapu, in Ainosian), sometimes you have to sit in Nemoro for several days. This time we passed safely, admiring some steamer, sitting firmly on a rock a little to the right as a lesson. They say he landed several days ago, so our pilots were especially careful. – From here it’s no more than an hour and a half to Nemoro. All the time there was a rather low, green shore, which for some reason reminded me of the shores near Odessa. It was somehow empty: no housing, no trees. And can they grow on this cape under the constantly raging winds? But here are the trees, and after them Nemoro itself, a monotonous, indefinite mass of gray houses. There are no churches or any other outstanding buildings that are so beautiful in European cities. We entered a small roadstead, slightly covered by an island. The wind here is, of course, very bad. Soon a policeman arrived in a boat, examined our passports, and wrote them down in a book. Other visitors followed him. Fr. arrived on a large boat. Ignatius with catechist Moses Minato and several Christians. The first was in a cassock with a colored belt (our official clothes here), and the second, not yet an old man, but with gray hair, even put on a real black frock coat for the celebration. This catechist is not particularly learned, and therefore does not pursue any eloquent teachings, but enjoys a very good reputation both as a person and as a preacher. He is especially loved in the nearby village, where most of the Christians are converted to Christ thanks to his zeal. O. Ignatius is still a new person here: he has been serving for no more than a year and a half. He is originally from the province of Chiba near Tokyo, and until now he has served in Kiu Siu, the southernmost and warmest of the Japanese islands. He told us with surprise how their harbor in Nemoro freezes, and not just like that, but with a real bridge, you can even walk on the ice. A whole crowd of Christians was waiting for us on a rather primitive pier. Many of them saw the Bishop for the first time, and perhaps even foreign priests in general. Everyone still began to bow from a distance. Having received us ashore, everyone began to approach the Vladyka for a blessing and then the whole crowd, taking our things, took us to the hotel, the best in the city, which stands right there on the shore. Here we had to dress up, and the Christians all went to the church house, where the real meeting was supposed to be. We put on our cassocks, Vladyka the panagia, I the cross, and, accompanied by Fr. Ignatius, we went through the streets of the city, also to the church house, located almost on the very outskirts. The streets are straight, wide, the buildings are not as airy as in old Japan; A few, perhaps, resemble ours. The entire middle of the city burned down two years ago, and now only half is built up. In general, the city is obviously falling asleep, falling. Its history is very typical for these cities. About 20 years ago it was a small, nondescript Ainos village of several huts with one or two dozen Japanese residents; about five years ago it was a very noisy, active city, attracting people from all over Japan and quickly growing rich. Now his story is over: the fish have stopped being caught, and there is nothing more to do in Nemoro. Trade has died down, the people have left, now it is a remote town, already half empty and still continuing to empty. Our church house, as I said, is on the outskirts of the city. This is a very nice new house, purposely built for this purpose by Christians. It also has a wooden eight-pointed cross. The land is rented, and the owner, the brother of one of the Christians, a pagan, takes only half the payment. Skeptics, however, say that he still would not have had to hand over this land to anyone, since the city was deserted. The inside of the house is very clean, new “tatami” (thick mats) everywhere. The entrance is straight into a large room where Christians usually gather, to the right is the apartment of Fr. Ignatia, where my mother and three children had recently moved from their homeland. To the left is the prayer room. This is a very large room with a high sole, fenced with a carved lattice. On the salt is the throne, the altar. There are very good icons hanging on the walls, painted in Japan. There is no iconostasis yet, but perhaps for beginning Christians it is much more instructive without an iconostasis. “They can thus see the performance of the greatest of sacraments.” Father Ignatius put on the phelonion and began the mass service. Several guys sang under the direction of the zealous Moses (catechist), who, I must admit, was the most divisive. After mass, the bishop put on an epitrachelion and an omophorion, sat down on a stool and addressed the Christians with a lesson. Its theme was the opening words of the Lord's Prayer: “Our Father.” We should constantly rejoice because we know the true God, our Heavenly Father. What could be higher and purer than this invaluable happiness? But will our joy be complete if our loved ones, our brothers around us, do not take part in it? Therefore, thanking God for ourselves, let us try to enlighten our ignorant brothers with the true light, so that they too can take part in our eternal joy. This is our duty, a duty of love and gratitude. “The Christians were all sitting on the floor, with their hands ceremoniously folded on their knees and their heads bowed. Most were from the neighboring village of Vata; the townspeople had gone to different trades: it was a busy time for fishermen. But the guys were obviously all in cash, the whole corner was occupied by them. After the sermon, Vladyka turned to this corner and began to test their knowledge of the Lord’s Prayer. The task was not particularly easy, since the guys were terribly embarrassed by the foreigner they had never seen and diligently moved to the back rows. However, some came out and read the prayer quite decently. On this occasion, the Right Reverend talked for a long time about the duty of parents to raise their children in the faith and fear of God, about guardian angels, etc. From reading prayers there is a natural transition to singing. The Bishop praised Moses for his efforts, but still said that he could sing even better. To learn how to sing like this, you need to buy a harmonium for singing. This matter was immediately decided: the harmonium costs 20 yen, the bishop donates 15, and the rest must be reported by the Christians themselves. This, of course, was accepted very willingly. God willing, next time we will hear very good singing. Next, we started looking at the local metrics. There were a total of 206 baptisms here (during the entire existence of the church); but of these, 145 people died or moved somewhere else, 10 people became weak and were no longer related to the church, 7 were unknown where and in what condition. Now in the city itself, not counting the village, there are 62 people, along with those who came here from other churches. – This church used to be very wealthy; According to stories, they spent 50 or more rubles on one “shimbokukwai” about Christmas. Then a prayer house was built. But the general impoverishment also spread to Christians: many of them also went bankrupt, many moved to another place. There is no previous wealth in the church. And this, in turn, could not help but affect church life; it does not have the same liveliness as before. To the question “Is there a “shimbokuquay?” We were embarrassedly told that no. And the reason is the simplest: now no one is able to spend 50 yen on a treat, and it’s a shame to arrange it in a poor way. On this occasion, the Right Reverend spoke about how Christians need to gather and why: the goal should not be refreshments, but mutual edification, purely church, brotherly love. Therefore, such meetings need to be organized as simply as possible, so that the rich have nothing to boast about in front of the poor, and nothing to be ashamed of in front of the rich. In our churches there is even a direct rule not to spend more than a certain, very limited amount on shimbokukuwai, sometimes only a few yen; Moreover, it is not the owner of the house where the meeting takes place, but the guests themselves who spend on the refreshments. This must be observed here as well. Then, because of poverty, there will be no reason to lose these very useful meetings for revitalizing church life. “This conversation took place well after noon, then the priest and I went to our hotel for dinner, and the Christians went home. The rest of the day was spent visiting Christian homes. Unfortunately, as I already said, many Christians were not at home: they went to fisheries, some to the Kuril Islands, some to where. We only visited 14–15 houses. By the way, we visited one lawyer, Philip Egutsi, an old acquaintance of Vladyka. This was back in the very early days of Japanese Christianity. Rev. Nicholas had just settled in Tokyo and was not yet a bishop. At that time, Philip was a student at a catechist school, where the teacher was the Bishop alone; there were no other missionaries at that time. At about eight o'clock lessons at school began and continued, with a short break around noon, almost until the evening. In the evening, when it got dark, Vladyka went to catechism, somewhere on the other side of the city, where he was hired or simply given a house by someone for this purpose. Those who wanted to listen to the teaching gathered there, and Vladyka preached to them, usually following the order of the Creed (according to the “Mirror of Orthodoxy” by St. Demetrius of Rostov). The people were, for the most part, poor and busy, so they could only gather after their daytime activities late in the evening. Traveling at night through the wastelands that abounded in Tokyo at that time (the shogunate had just been abolished, numerous “daimeo” palaces were bought up by the government and demolished), and it was far from safe for a foreigner. So the students of the catechist school decided to assign a kind of guard to the bishop, who would accompany him on his night travels. Our Philip was appointed such a guard, as the strongest. He himself, it seems, was not subsequently a catechist, and if he was, it was not for long; now he is a lawyer. By the way, Japanese lawyers do not at all hide their affiliation with Christianity, just like doctors (at least some), and this not only does not hinder their occupation, but even provides more practice; people are accustomed to expecting more honesty and conscientiousness from Christians than from their brother, the pagans. The reputation is very good, God only grant that from this they come to realize the truth of our teaching itself. Walking around Christian houses, you get some idea of ​​the general state of the local church. Frankly, the Nemoro Church did not make a satisfactory impression. There are, of course, very good Christians, zealous for the church, regularly attending Divine services, raising their children well in a Christian manner, but there are also a lot of lazy ones who have somehow degenerated. Their impoverishment, of course, greatly influences their condition, especially after their previous prosperity. In many houses, only half the family is Christian, the rest are still pagans. This is also not a particularly good sign: of course, coercion or anything like that is not allowed, only a sincere believer becomes a Christian, but a good Christian, by his very example, by his constant confession of faith, should influence his relatives and usually bring them to church. Therefore, in a good family, usually everyone is Christian. However, the good thing about the non-Maritime church is that Christians quite regularly fulfill the duty of receiving Holy Communion. Tain. Of the 62 people, more than forty are confessors, and besides them there are, of course, many babies! The next day, August 10, at about eight in the morning we went to Wata, a military settlement, “tonden” in Japanese. A priest and a catechist came with us, then several guys as singers. The settlement stretched for many miles along an arrow-straight road. Fifty yards from each other there are exactly identical small houses, built at public expense. About eight versts from the city there is a “si-gai”, that is, a village in the proper sense. In Vata we have 12 Christian houses, and all are distinguished by their zeal for the church. That is why there are no pagans in almost any house; the families are completely Christian. There is no special catechist in this village; it is included in the city church, and all baptisms are recorded there, even if they took place in the village. On major holidays, Christians go to divine services in the city, and on Sundays to their village prayer house, where on Sunday evenings the catechist Moses comes to preach and pray. The goal of our journey was a prayer house where Christians were supposed to gather. It was necessary to walk six miles to get there. On the way we stopped at four Christian houses. The people are generally very poor. Usually, more former samurai, military-class people who, apart from their military art and Chinese literature, could not do anything, moved to military settlements. It is not surprising that their first experiments in farming were not the most successful. Then, this village turned out to be very unsuccessful in terms of climate. The local fogs completely destroy grain; only root crops can grow well. Be that as it may, Christians here sit on the ground, and this is very important for the church: they cannot so easily leave their place of residence and move somewhere else. That is why the church here does not suffer as much from resettlement, as, for example, the same church in Nemoro The prayer house is no different from other houses. This is also a small government house, built for one soldier’s family. It belongs to one of the Christians, Akila, who himself is a teacher in some village, and provided his house, as if empty, for prayer meetings of his fellow villagers. The house is very uncomfortable and poor. Old tatami, the walls are covered with newspapers, there is no ceiling. To top it all off, the kitchen is located right there, that is, a hole is made in the floor a fathom long and half as wide, called “irori” in Japanese. This hole is filled with earth, and a fire is constantly burning here for cooking food or for warmth. In old Japan, I only saw small “hibatzis” in which charcoal smoldered without smell or smoke, but here they burned straight wood, and even in the most primitive, unprocessed form; They will put a piece of wood, the whole trunk, and light it at one end, then just move it closer as it burns. The smoke comes out of the window in the roof, but it’s clear that a good half of this smoke fills the room and hurts the eyes, especially for us, who are not used to it. On the wall hangs an icon of the Savior and icons of the four evangelists. The Christians had not yet gathered, so we, after resting a little in the “quaidoo” (house of prayer), went again to the houses of the Christians. Everyone lives more or less the same, everyone is a homogeneous mass, not that in Nemoro all Christians are good. The question naturally arose, why leave them without a special catechist, why join Nemoro, with whom they have little in common? Therefore, we decided to establish an independent church in Vata, settle a catechist here, give a special metric, etc. This is also necessary for those listening to the teaching who are here: from Nemoro, with all the proximity, it is difficult for a catechist to come here, especially in the winter, very frosty time. U o. Ignatius there is also the city of Kushiro, 160 miles away, there are Christians there, and very zealous ones, there are many who want to listen to the teaching, but there is no catechist for them. The priest can visit them only from time to time, and, of course, can only support the faith in old Christians, but does not have time to preach to new ones. In order not to leave them completely without any help, they decided to send there a non-naval singing teacher, Alexander Morokosi. In Nemoro, he was actually in the position of catechist (he knows enough teaching for this). Now he had not yet arrived from Tokyo, they decided to immediately send him a letter to Hakodate so that he could wait there until the bishop returned; he will be given instructions, and he will go straight from Hakodate to Kushiro. In Nemoro there will be only one father left. Ignatius. This cannot be particularly difficult for him: the church is small. If there are listeners, he himself must announce them: this is also one of the main duties of the priest. When did Fr. Ignatius will have to leave to tour the churches; Moses may come from Wat during this time. Of course, it would be nice to have special catechists for all these places, but there is no such thing as a trial. We are now experiencing a kind of catechetical crisis: people don’t go to catechetical school at all, and if they do come, they would be better off not coming, and we have to refuse admission, despite all the leniency. Значительно на это влияет скудость катехизаторского содержания. At the beginning of the service, until recently, the catechist received 8 yen, then 10 and 12, some, especially those burdened with family, received more than this, but the norm was 5. В старые годы это было вполне достаточно, хотя и не роскошно. But the Chinese war, and even more weapons that followed it, the establishment of a huge fleet, army, etc., have raised the price of everything so much that, positively, petty officials are groaning with their meager salaries. Поэтому и в катехизаторы идти охотников уже не находится столько, как прежде. In addition, there is also a general coldness towards religious issues, a reaction that has not yet stopped. Finally, many are deterred from catechetical service by the need to be supported by foreigners, especially Russians. This seems humiliating to the Japanese national consciousness. Personally, perhaps, everyone would not mind coming to terms with this, but in front of others they cannot do this. That is why we especially need to welcome any attempt at the independence of churches in material terms. A church that is financially independent from the outside has a strong guarantee of longevity and attracts more people to itself. Moreover, before the eyes of outsiders, the preacher is free from unnecessary criticism. The Japanese themselves are beginning to realize this; Every now and then, voices are heard among Christians about the need to support the church themselves; quite a few different experiments have already been done in this regard. Only so far all these experiments have not yet been serious enough (with a few exceptions); the habit of using what is ready and not sacrificing one’s own to the church is still taking its toll. The foreign missions themselves, with their always open wallets, are largely to blame for this. At about one o'clock in the afternoon, Christians gathered at the prayer house, everyone dressed up in their best dresses, respectfully accepted the bishop's blessing, in general, this day was a great holiday for them. Father Ignatius began Vespers. The guys under the direction of Moses sang again, mainly those who came with us from Nemoro sang and with the same success as yesterday. However, the Christians who filled the entire room prayed very earnestly, crossed themselves earnestly, seriously and simply. After the service, the bishop delivered a sermon, as usual, sitting (this time there was no stool, it was replaced by a low Japanese table); spoke on the topic: “Whatever you do, do it for the glory of God. There are people called to serve the church or who have dedicated themselves to God; these directly do God’s work and thereby are saved. But everyone, remaining with his own work, can do God’s work in the same way. To do this, it is necessary to perform your service not for glory, not out of self-interest, but for God, to perform it as a duty assigned by God. A farmer, a teacher, a warrior, a merchant - all of them are necessary for humanity, for society, the Lord commanded all of them to be. Let them work in the consciousness of this and for this, then by the very fulfillment of their service they will receive the Kingdom of Heaven.” – After the sermon, having removed his omophorion, the bishop simply began to talk with Christians, got to know each of them, asked when someone was baptized, etc. And finally, he announced to them the most important thing: you have often asked for a catechist, regardless of Nemoro, now your request can be fulfilled. From now on, your beloved Moses will live with you; he will go to Nemoro only during Fr.’s absences. Ignatius. From now on, an independent church will be formed in Vata, there will be a special metric, etc. Now you must especially try to advance your faith, you must find listeners for your catechist; attract your friends, neighbors, and relatives to the teaching even more diligently than before. It’s much easier here than anywhere else: you all live motionless in your places, living together for many years, constantly doing the same thing. It is natural for all of you to be very close to each other, the easier it is in a friendly conversation to reveal your faith to a pagan - everyone will give more value to the word of a friend than even to a catechist preaching by office. – It is also extremely necessary to give the house of worship a more or less decent appearance. This issue was resolved immediately. With the consent of the owner who was present, they decided to cover the inside of the kwaidoo with good paper, change the tatami, install the ceiling, move the kitchen outside, etc. In this way, it will be much more convenient to pray, and the catechist can invite anyone to his place, without being embarrassed by his wretched surroundings. The bishop donated 30 yen for the construction, and the rest will be contributed by Christians. – Likewise here, the Bishop convinced Christians to support “simbokukwai”. In the summer, of course, they are all busy in the fields, but in the winter there is a lot of free time. That’s when we need to gather for mutual edification in church or alternately in the homes of Christians. It was more than three o'clock, it would be time to have a snack. One of the Christians brought a whole bunch of eggs, they had already begun to cook them (Europeans don’t eat rice), when suddenly the catechist remembered that today was Wednesday. There is a silent alarm, and the eggs instantly disappear from the scene before the Lord has time to notice them: but the potatoes have been boiled - and they will be born here very good. It was amazing how delicious it seemed! Having thanked the Christians for the treat, we moved on: we had to finish visiting Christian houses. We went to the “si-guy”, where there are about forty houses, there are shops, workshops, etc. Halfway there, completely in a field, there is a large one-story house, this is a rural school. We entered it because two of our Christians lived here. The school accommodates more than 200 people with four teachers. Of the latter, two are Orthodox, and the third is an Episcopalian, the son-in-law of one of the Orthodox, also leaning towards Orthodoxy. Religion, therefore, does not serve as an obstacle to a teaching position. But the government forces teachers to refrain from any hint of religion, even in their apartment (if it is right there, in the school building) it is forbidden to have an icon, etc. This, however, does not prevent fanatical teachers from scolding Christianity in the classroom, spreading the most ridiculous fables about it among children. The extent to which this fear of Christianity reaches can be seen at least from the following small fact: written by the rector of the embassy church, Fr. Sergiy Glebov's guide to learning Russian for the Japanese, the guide is very good and detailed. But the government trade school found it difficult to accept it as a textbook: it contains a religious element. And this element only consisted of several examples of the inflection of the words Christ, Jesus, etc. As you can see, here, too, freedom from religion turns into persecution of religion, that is, Christianity (because Buddhism is not persecuted). We went into the teacher's apartment, and then looked around the entire school, which now, on the occasion of the holidays, stood empty. It has several classes, each with 40 people, and a special gym with wooden guns. All this is arranged extremely simply, unpainted walls, the same desks, everything is obviously inexpensive. But you can study, and there are a lot of people studying at this school. In “si-guy” we went to the house of the most wonderful of the local Christians, Peter Tanaka. He is a very tall, healthy man, a real Cossack; to top off his resemblance, he has a reddish beard, which is very rare among the Japanese. He’s a good fighter: he distinguished himself in some way during the last war, has a medal and a pension. Now he is “inkyo”, that is, retired, has withdrawn from all official relations, has given a plot of land to his brother, and he, his wife and adopted daughter, are cultivating only their own rather large vegetable garden. He is a very good and zealous Christian, as is his whole family. Previously he was an Episcopalian, and even in his youth he wanted to become a preacher, but circumstances later turned out differently. Having converted to Orthodoxy, he did not forget his original intention and, in his place, decided to dedicate one of his children, if any, to the service of the church. That’s why he asked the bishop to accept his adopted daughter into our girls’ school so that after completing the course the girl could either marry one of the preachers or could become a preacher herself. In addition, Peter donates a plot of land to the church for “kwai-doo”. This site is located in Si-Gai, which is very convenient; the place is very visible. God grant that this intention will come true later. After sitting in Peter's house and talking with him, we went back. We had to walk even more than before: we were taken along another roundabout road to visit some more Christians in a village just outside the city. Only at seven o'clock in the evening did we finally reach our hotel. We were pretty tired, especially, of course, the guys accompanying us; At first they jumped and ran, far ahead of us, and by the end they were barely dragging behind, their noses hanging down and their mouths open. And it’s not surprising to be tired: in total, with all the turns and detours, we walked a good twenty miles, if not all 25. It was not for nothing that Vladyka later said that it takes thirty years to carry a man, but he himself has to carry him for sixty-two. The evening was spent in discussions about what to buy as a gift for our Kuril residents (the ship left there on Saturday morning). We agreed to buy 1 pound of Japanese tea, 1 pound of Chinese tea, tobacco, 10 pounds of sugar, a scarf for women, thread, etc. This is the custom. Even when he goes to Sikotan Fr. Ignatius, Christians certainly send gifts with him for the Kuriles. And these latter, like children, rejoice at this. The ship left only on August 13, and there were still two whole days left to sit without any definite business in Nemoro. During this time we visited the local cemetery. It stands on the Jurassic, constantly under the wind. Trees do not grow here, but the grass drowns everything out, tall, evergreen. And somehow strangely, gravestones rise out of it, which you wouldn’t expect at all among these thickets. The monuments are mostly simple: only a thin pillar with a black inscription from top to bottom in Chinese or Sanskrit (among Buddhists). There are, however, also stone monuments of the rich. The pagans in Nemoro mostly burn their dead: in winter it is very difficult to dig into the frozen ground. – The graves of our Christians are located separately from the pagan ones, side by side with the Protestants. Only Protestants do not have any sign of Christianity on their graves; even the inscription is no different from pagan. Orthodox graves are all decorated with a small wooden cross, on which, in addition to the name of the deceased, there are significant words: “We have passed from death to life.” Among the Protestant graves we noticed one granite monument with an English inscription. This is the grave of Baptist missionary Carpenter. He served in Burma for 23 years and in Nemoro for about a year and a half. His wife also came with him, who is still a missionary in Nemoro, and at her own expense. She is a very zealous missionary, sparing neither effort nor money on preaching, but they say her mission in Nemoro has had little success. The people know her well, call her “baputezma no obaasan” (Baptist grandmother), the guys willingly accept treats from her before the sermon (once they even gave out clothes), but they are not inclined to believe. In addition to the Baptists, there are, or better yet, Episcopalians in Nemoro, but they, too, were not fruitful. After this, one cannot help but be amazed that our Japanese preachers still had so many converts here. We served a litiya at the cemetery for all those buried there. The Bishop advised Christians to come to the graves of their relatives more often, decorate them, for example, with flowers, pray, all this is a matter of our love, which cannot end even with death. “On the way back we stopped at the Baptist obaasan, but she went to Vata, and this time we didn’t see her. In the evening the following rather curious incident occurred. A “kempei,” that is, a gendarme, came to us in civilian dress. He asked about the purpose of our visit, about faith. For a long time, Vladyka revealed to him the need for a person to have a religion, and a true one, and not one created only by “human imagination; the need for a person to have eternal goals in which his immortal soul would find satisfaction, etc. The gendarme listened carefully and for a long time, and then suddenly announced that he, in fact, belongs to the secret police and always goes to work in civilian dress, now he would be very curious to see our passports. Here, talk to him about faith! However, maybe he is really interested in the faith, because he has turned to the catechist more than once before, and even now he asked about books, etc. Maybe he will eventually come to church. We have many Christians among our police officers. On the 12th, a “shimbokuquay” was held to lay the foundation for its restoration in the local church. We were appointed three hours after lunch, but the boss, who is here as a preacher at the prison, came to us and detained us for some time. In Japanese prisons, following the example of European ones, there are special exhorters whose duty is to preach to prisoners every day for an hour or more. The subject of the sermon should not be religion, but only morality. However, the desire to somehow correct the prisoners sometimes forces the prison authorities to look condescendingly at religious, even Christian, preaching. Several years ago, in the same non-naval prison, the preacher was our Orthodox Christian, who, indeed, converted several criminals to Christ. Especially memorable for everyone is the appeal of two dashing robbers, sentenced to death for many of their sins. Both of them believed, were baptized, deeply repented of their sins, and not only were no longer indignant at their condemnation, but considered it even too easy for themselves. We must suffer incomparably more. And so they decided to kill themselves. Unfortunately, the preacher did not have time to dissuade one of them from this crazy step. The other one, the most important one, was saved and, some time later, died a true Christian with a prayer on his lips, albeit on the guillotine. Christians could not, of course, be present at this execution: it took place in the prison yard. At that time they gathered in the church house and prayed as earnestly as possible at such a great moment for their departing brother. Then he was buried in a Christian manner. “Then the head of the prison must have changed, or a slightly different wind blew from above, only now in prison the boss is preaching his Buddhist morality, moreover, even more meager than usual, because he does not have to preach the religious side. When we arrived at the church house, the Christians, despite the pouring rain, were already fully assembled; many came from Vat. The outer doors stood wide open, several pagans had gathered on the street, who, either leaving or coming, crowded there all the time. They sang “Heavenly King”, read “Holy God”, “Our Father”, Fr. Ignatius said a short, intense litany and dismissal, and then he was the first to begin speaking his teaching. After him, the Lord told the story of Tobit and revealed the doctrine of guardian angels, the need to constantly guard oneself from sin, which removes an angel, about prayer to an angel, etc. Both speeches lasted 1 hour and 20 minutes. The listeners were noticeably tired, so after the bishop’s speech they took a short break. Then I spoke on the topic: “The righteous will live by faith,” about the need to protect our faith even more than our eyes, because only by believing can we follow Christ, without faith our entire spiritual life will be lost. We must constantly stay awake according to the word of the Savior. For this, our church offers many means, these are various church rules, commandments, holidays, fasts. All these are various means to educate and support faith in a Christian. It is especially important to observe daily prayer; only practice can create a skill, and one who prays constantly is actually not far from the Kingdom of Heaven, because he is constantly with God. “I didn’t have to talk for very long, and even then my listeners hardly understood anything in their sleep: not many people can listen to three sermons in a row, and even if they are not used to our, at least, peculiar Japanese language. This is where the actual edifying part of the “simbokuquay” ended. They sang “It is worthy to eat,” Fr. Ignatius said leave. The refreshments part began, tea and Japanese cookies were served. The meeting became lively, there was general conversation and sometimes laughter. Usually, every shimbokukwai ends with this, so to speak, informal conversation: having talked enough, sometimes having resolved some issue from church affairs, the Christians go home. But this time the order was not the same. Amid tea and sweets, the general conversation was interrupted by the previously mentioned lawyer and old friend of the Bishop, Philip Egutsi. He stood up and began a long speech about His Eminence Nicholas, who was immediately present, and recalled how he (Philip) was at school, how he then listened to the teaching of the bishop, etc. The Bishop patiently listened to Philip’s eloquence and himself told several incidents from Philip’s former Tokyo life, about his strength of character, etc., and then somehow involuntarily moved on to remembering the entire initial history of Christianity in Japan, talking about appeal about. Pavel Savabe, Fr. John Sakai, our first Christians, about various difficulties, hardships, even direct persecutions that Christians then had to endure from both the government and society. Sawabe and many with him (some are still alive today, such as Father Matthew Kageta, Father Peter Sasagawa and others) were also in prison. Memories that were dear to those who acted then and very edifying to those of today. The Bishop continued his story for more than an hour, and he could have talked longer, but it was getting late, and the village Christians still had a long way to go; Willy-nilly, the conversation ended, and we, accompanied by Pyotr Tanaka, his daughter and merchant brother, went to the hotel. August 13th. At 8 o'clock in the morning, the Kwanko-maru (an honorary ship that has graced the ocean for more than thirty years) set out on its regular voyage around the Kuril Islands. The three of us went with Fr. Ignatius. The wind was blowing, but soon died down, and we floated as if along a river; the ship barely moves. It was possible, therefore, to walk along the deck and look around. To our left and behind we could see first the heights of Ezo, then the southernmost of the Kuril Islands - Kunasi-ri, behind it should be Itrup (the largest in the group) and so on to Kamchatka. We turned to the right from these islands. Sikotan somehow strayed from the group and got lost among many other small islands, low-lying and flat. There is not a tree or anything on them - only green grass covers them. According to the captain, at night, especially in the fog, sailing here is very restless, perhaps dangerous: there are no lighthouses anywhere, the maps are quite inaccurate, and just in case you run into one of these invisible islands. About 4 hours later, a pointed peak began to clearly appear on the horizon, this is Sikotan. Another two hours, and we begin to go around it on the left and walk for a long time along the shores, looking for the entrance to its amazing bay. The banks are very steep, steep, there is grass and small trees on the mountains. It’s not particularly welcoming outside, but a valley opens up, green and cheerful under the rays of the sun, and you’ll think that it’s always warm and cozy behind the gray mountains. You wouldn’t think at all that a clear day is rare here, that there is almost constant fog here, cold in winter, damp in summer. “Finally, we came to some kind of cyclopean bastion: huge black and purple rocks stand like a wall. We turn slightly, and suddenly the rocks seem to move apart, a narrow strait sparkles between them, and behind it, as if in a panorama far, far away, an inner bay and a valley with houses appear. The effect is amazing! The steamer makes its way through the strait and enters the inner bay. It is very reminiscent of the Nagasaki roadstead, only it seems even more closed, just as round, just as well protected from the winds. They say it’s only small, that’s why our ship stopped far from the shore. Right in front of us, on a low-lying, flat bank, two rows of small shack houses stretch into the distance - this is the village of our Kurils. Right next to it rises a very well-built prayer house, the cross of which can be seen from the ship. On the right bank of the bay there is a semi-European house - the home of government officials. Here and there along the green mountains one can see fences, sometimes houses, and partly cultivated fields. These are traces of a Japanese settlement, since our Kurils do not have a particular inclination for farming. However, there are very few Japanese here. Hardly any of them live permanently, except for government officials and the doctor. The rest come here only for fishing, fishing, etc. It is necessary to say a few words about the origin of this Kuril village. As you know, in the old years the Kuril (northern) islands belonged to Russia. The Kurilians who lived on them were enlightened with Christianity by the famous Innocetius. They also had houses of worship, and Russian missionaries lived with them. But for some reason they found it necessary to exchange the islands for the southern half of Sakhalin, which the Japanese themselves did not consider theirs. Most of the Kuril residents did not want to leave Russian citizenship and moved to Russian territory, along with them they moved their houses of worship, etc. But one village, living near Kamchatka on Para-Mushiro, felt sorry for the wonderful fishing and hunting there and decided to switch to Japanese citizenship. The consequences were the most tragic. First of all, the Kuriles lost their spiritual leadership, because Russian missionaries no longer considered themselves entitled to travel to Japanese territory. So twenty years passed. During all this time, the Kuril residents had not seen the priest. They were baptized and buried themselves. They conducted the service themselves. According to legend, the faith was passed on to children from old people. And one can only be amazed at how carefully they observed everything that the missionaries taught them. Perhaps they were not as skilled in dogmatic matters as, for example, our Japanese Christians: there was no one to teach them in such detail. But on the other hand, the church system, the need for prayer, the Fear of God, the Christian commandments - all this was learned by our simple Kuril residents and is preserved so well to this day that the Japanese priests do not boast about them; the very first Japanese catechists who came to them later told with tears at the council what ardent faith they saw on Sikotan. Spiritual orphanhood was followed by physical orphanhood: a small village found itself completely alone on its island, all the relatives moved to Russia, the neighboring islands were deserted, and there were no Japanese nearby. There was no one to engage in barter or anything like that. Only once a year did a Japanese government steamer arrive, bringing them rice and other food supplies; We must also thank the Japanese government for taking upon itself the labor and expense of providing them with food for nothing; without this, the situation of the village would have been hopeless. But soon the government quite naturally felt the inconvenience of having a Kuril village so far away from itself. What does it cost to send a ship there? Moreover, other than delivering food to the Kurils, this parcel had no other meaning at that time. They decided to move them closer and for this purpose they chose the island of Sikotan: a mail steamer regularly sailed to the southern Kuril Islands, and it was not particularly difficult for it to turn to Sikotan. After much convincing (the official, who spoke Russian, even cited the teachings of Christ as an argument), they managed to somehow lure the Kuriles onto the ship, and then, without wasting time, they set fire to their village, and quickly took them away. This was about ten years ago. Thus, in pursuit of rich catches, our Kurilians lost everything. On Sikotan they began to die out: 115 of them moved, and now only 62, and among these many are infected with consumption, there are several freaks. One can think differently about what caused this extinction. First of all, of course, the unfavorable climate of Sikotan, to which the Kurils could not adapt with their primitive culture. The conditions of Sikotan life, food, etc. could also have influenced quite a bit. Hunting and fishing were not as good as on Paramushiro, and government subsidies stuck heavily to the hands of officials, especially the manager of the island. I had to eat from hand to mouth. The main thing is that the Kurilians did not have relations with anyone outside, their relatives were far away, the Japanese too, and with these latter, as pagans, the Kurilians themselves did not enter into kinship; they had to be confined to their narrow middle, to their village. It is clear that in a small village everyone soon found themselves related, and the further they went, the more difficult it became to observe church decrees during marriage. Even now, many marriages are questionable in this regard, or at least somewhat unusual, but in the future it will become even more difficult. This is the reason for the disease, this is the reason for the deformity. The only salvation for the Kuril residents is to become real Japanese, to gradually merge with the main people, otherwise the village faces inevitable death. The resettlement to Sikotan was good, however, because the Kurilians came into contact with our mission. At first these relations could not be particularly frequent, because the ship went there once a month, and even then only in the summer. But it was still better than Paramushiro. Soon after the resettlement, messengers from the mission also came to Sikotan: Fr. Titus Komatsu and catechist Alexei Savabe (son of our first Christian Father Paul Sawabe). Needless to say, how glad the Kuril residents were to see the priest again. But, fearing false teachers, they hesitated for a long time, not seeing the priest’s habitual cassock. Only when they saw him in his vestments, saw how he served, did everyone calm down and joyfully began to approach him for his blessing, earnestly kissing his hand. Since then, communication has been ongoing. The priests visit there at least once a year, staying for a month or more. The catechist Moses even stayed there through the winter, teaching the Kurilians church singing and prayers, and preaching. It is not particularly easy to live among them for someone unaccustomed to them. Their cordiality and hospitality, of course, know no bounds; every day they bring the best of their catch for their dear guest. But apart from fish, somehow dried over a fire, you can’t get anything there, and a Japanese can’t live without rice just as much, and even more, as we can without bread. Constant contact with the world, visits from priests and catechists were most unpleasant for the island manager. Visitors, seeing the abuses at the site, were not slow in spreading them throughout Japan, the newspapers started talking about it, and the poor governor was forced to move to old Japan. Since then, government subsidies have reached the Kurils; life has become easier. The government began to treat them even more carefully. Now this village of 62 people, abandoned on an island, is supported by a teacher (who also serves as a clerk to the ruler and something else), and a doctor lives permanently, for whom the Kuril residents gave up one of their best houses. Now almost everyone speaks Japanese, but the children seem to know nothing other than Japanese. Only a very few, about two or three of the old people, speak Russian very clearly. The Russian influence is also evident in the costume; the women positively resemble our townsman peasant women, the same dress, the same scarf on their heads. Their faces are not of such a sharply Mongolian type as the Japanese; it seemed to me that they even had something in common with our Little Russians. Little by little, Japanese costume is being introduced, especially among men. At the head of the Kuril community is the headman, to whom they obey, just like a father. Now they have a very good headman - Yakov Storozhev, the most developed of all of them and perhaps the most zealous for the church. He can write (not entirely correctly, of course) in Russian, and he also knows Japanese writing to a certain extent. During intercourse, he learned partly English: English and American schooners sometimes go there to catch seals, etc. Yakov is still the chief minister of demands and teacher of the faith for his fellow villagers. He, according to the recollections of Paramushiro, also built a prayer house in which worship is held in the village. According to Fr. Ignatius, the Kuriles live among themselves in a completely brotherly manner. There have been no crimes between them until now. On the contrary, as soon as one of them acquires or receives anything, he rushes to share it with his fellow villagers. Hunting or trapping is considered a common property. And everything that is caught is divided equally among everyone, with the first, double part being set aside for Jacob. They were preserved in such purity, of course, due to the fact that they were first well taught Christianity and deeply and heartily accepted the faith. And then, their isolation protected them from any temptations from the pagan environment. Now we have to fear somewhat for the next generations: as long as the old people are alive, of course, the Christian way of life will remain unshakable, but what will happen then? Relations with the pagans are now constant, and, with the development of the Kurilians, they will be even closer. Will they resist various temptations? So, at least, I was worried about. Ignatius. However, recently the question of the relocation of the Kuril residents to their old ashes, on the island, has been raised. Paramushiro, where their old people constantly strived. Several years ago, one Japanese lieutenant, with a terrible noise, with public speeches, donations, recruited several hunters and went with them to the farthest of the Kuril Islands to guard the borders of his fatherland from the invasion of enemies, that is, Russia (the Japanese even imagine a Russian invasion from Kamchatka). Now, of course, we have to visit these guards every year, bring them mail, food supplies, etc. The steamer, thus, can visit the Kurilians on Paramushiro, this will not require any special expenses. Last summer, one family was sent to Paramushiro as an experiment and, having returned to Sikotan, enthusiastically told their fellow villagers about the rich fishing there, about hunting, etc. Probably, in the next year or several after that, the Kurils will leave Sikotan. Of course, it will be difficult to visit them regularly for spiritual edification and communion, but they will be away from temptation. I would like to raise at least one of them as a preacher, and eventually a priest, but it is forbidden to take them to the schools of old Japan. Meanwhile, on the shore, people were running around like midges. A small boat with one oarsman pulled from the left bank to the right towards the government house: it was necessary to deliver a policeman to the ship, without whom no one could either get off the ship or board it. This is obviously to prevent any smuggling. Of course, this may be good, but it just takes an awfully long time to get out. For us, every minute was precious; we could stay here no more than four hours while the ship was standing. (The kind captain had already delayed the stay somewhat to give us more time). Another large boat with eight oars left the village and quietly began to approach the steamer under the monotonous sound of its rowers. The rowers were women, there were only three men. Here, according to Fr. Ignatius, the steamer is constantly rowed and unloaded by women who all look very healthy and strong. No one was expecting us here. There is no need to say, therefore, with what curiosity and joy those who arrived looked at us. They were all Christians, they all called themselves Christian names, they approached the Bishop and Fr. Ignatius with blessing. “Hello, hello,” they said. Of course, everyone had known for a long time that there was a bishop in Tokyo and that he was called Nikolai; they had written letters to him more than once, received gifts, and now they saw him in person for the first time. The only pity is that, not knowing about our arrival, almost all of their men went somewhere far away to fish; seventeen people left, including the most wonderful of them, Yakov, who so wanted to see the Reverend Nicholas. Almost only women and children remained in the village. There was nothing to do: Vladyka could not wait for the next ship; he had to limit himself to what he had. We got into the boat and went ashore. The running around had already begun, people were running from the village to the sea, children were visible, but especially a lot of dogs, as it should be in a Kuril village. Jumping off the boat onto the wet and loose sand, we went ashore, where Grigory, a 53-year-old Kurilian who spoke Russian quite well, was waiting for us. His mustache and short-cropped beard, white shirt with hanging, long ends of the collar, and finally, his peculiar accent - everything was completely Khokhlatsky. Amazing guy! "Hello! Thank God you came. I thought that I would never see you,” he told us. Before it got dark, we hurried to go around their huts, after going into the prayer house. It is very nice - not rich, of course, but it was apparently cleanly arranged and decorated as best they could and knew how. The icons were sent from our mission, there are vestments for the priest, vessels, a cross, the Gospel, etc.; There’s even a bell hanging on the porch: it seems to be a remnant of the former prayer house in Paramushiro. After praying a little, we went home. And there was a terrible bustle: the mothers, having dressed themselves in their best dresses, were in a hurry to change their children’s clothes. Their dwellings, rather miserable, are divided into two rooms. At the entrance, there is a large “irori” fireplace in the floor, the smoke from which is as eye-catching as in a Japanese house. Next is the clean room. There, in the most honorable place, hangs an icon, sometimes two, there is a bed with an armful of straw instead of a feather bed; a table and some kind of box, instead of a chair, complete the decoration. Behind this summer house, everyone has another winter home, a dugout. You can get there through a very low corridor. Inside it is a small room, with raised beds all around, a place for a fire in the middle and nothing else. Light penetrates only from above through a large smoke hole. They say that this smokehouse is very warm in winter, but I don’t know how clean and light it is. Many people have cows. Stefanida, the most hard-working of all and the smartest, is trying to grow a vegetable garden: she has planted potatoes and something else. This is perhaps the first example of agriculture. The government is trying to accustom the Kuril residents to it, but these efforts are not accompanied by much success. Stefanida is truly a wonderful woman, tall, with intelligent eyes; in her posad dress and scarf, she completely resembles a Russian, some kind of mistress of a large inn. We sat on her box, covered with a red flannelette blanket. I would like to talk to her, but I couldn’t find a suitable language: Stefanida doesn’t speak anything other than her Kuril language, although she understands several Russian and Japanese words. Their language is generally very poor; O. Ignatius said that they also speak among themselves in some kind of mixture of Kuril, Russian and Japanese. Along the way we also examined the fruits of Japanese civilization. bathhouse and school. The Japanese cannot live without a bathhouse. Every day, or at least every other day, he needs to take a bath, always at a very high temperature, which horrifies European doctors. On the contrary, Kurils do not have such a disposition for water, and their living conditions are not such that the lack of a daily bath is greatly felt by them. According to stories, the Ainu and Kurilians arrange a steam bath for themselves: in some cave or shack they build a large fire and throw stones into it; When the wood burns out, the stones begin to be watered and sit in steam for a long time. This, perhaps, is the prototype of our Russian bathhouse. Of course, it is often quite difficult to arrange such a bathhouse. The Japanese could not come to terms with such a primitive bath and, at public expense, arranged a very good Japanese bath for our Kuril residents, which they all use together. The school is a small European house, a small classroom with two or three tables for students: there are, of course, very few school-aged children here. One cannot help but praise the Japanese for this. No matter how small the school is and no matter how insignificant the teacher’s salary, it is still worth something. Most importantly, this concern for an insignificant handful of foreigners, abandoned on a distant island and, apparently, dying out, is commendable. It was already completely dark when we reached the last houses: it was more than six o’clock, and at nine the ship was supposed to weigh anchor. It was necessary to have time to pray and perform the required services that had happened. A bell sounded from the church, Christians flocked from the village: every single one of them gathered, only the legless old woman could not stand in the church, and one young guy had to guard something in the government house. This is what they always do, leaving their houses empty. However, there is no one to fear here: there are no thieves. The house of worship lit up. To the left stood the women, all dressed up, and to the right a few men. Everyone stood in the highest degree of decorum, looking at the icons and earnestly making the sign of the cross. It was edifying and touching to see this prayer. No one turned around or shifted from foot to foot. Ahead, several girls and women, led by Herodion, a competent Kurilian, sang quite well, although not so harmoniously, Fr. Ignatius helped them whenever possible. We also brought a Russian service book, thinking to console the elderly with the Russian service, but it turned out that at the present time the Japanese service is more familiar and understandable to them. Most people no longer speak Russian. Therefore, we decided to serve in Japanese. First about. Ignatius performed the sacrament of anointing on several children and read prayers to the mothers in labor. Then I began to serve Sunday Vespers (we didn’t have time for the All-Night Vigil). The service ended, Vladyka, in Japanese, but this time standing, since no one sat on the floor, he said a lesson, of course, the simplest that these simply believing souls could understand. He convinced them to inviolably preserve the faith, to observe Christ’s law as unswervingly as they had done before, which pleases all believers in Japan; told them about constant prayer to our Invisible, but constantly seeing us, our Heavenly Father. He asked us to pray for us, for the church, to be grateful to the Japanese emperor and government, who care so much about them, to pray for them, especially that the Lord would quickly enlighten them with the light of truth; persuaded them to work, to cultivate the land, because work is the same irrevocable commandment of the Lord, because only the one who works pleases the Lord (this was said mainly in view of the inherent disposition of the Kurils to agricultural work, the lazy habit of taking from nature only what is ready; and this habit directly destroys them). – After the service, Vladyka distributed a cross and an icon to all the Christians, and blessed each one. Then, just as quickly, we headed to the house of the headman, Yakov. This house stands on the edge of the village and differs from others in its somewhat more decent appearance, although it does not have any special luxuries. In this house, around a burning fire in “irori” (smoke was not taken into account), all the Christians gathered, in the foreground stood and sat the guys, and behind them all the inhabitants and old Stepanida, and legless Nina, and Gregory. The most interesting part began - the distribution of gifts. Jacob's wife took the place of her husband and, with the help of others, measured out tea, sugar, tobacco, etc., and distributed equal amounts to each house. However, special precision in the division was not required: if someone accidentally got more than others, he would not fail to share with them. Everyone was equally happy: both children and adults. At first everyone was somewhat shy, and then there was a chatter, everyone tried to come up to us, simply, purely childishly looking into our eyes, trying to say something, who remembered - in Russian, and who in Japanese. Having completely gotten used to it, some began to offer us various of their products as souvenirs: mainly small wicker boxes, like snuff boxes. It is made very solidly, and, they say, only a knife serves as a tool. This is what women do here. They did not dare to offer such gifts to the Eminence, but I received a lot of them: as soon as I gave the first one, others followed him, and even now I still have these boxes, the memory of the spiritual children of the Eminence Innocent. However, we had to hurry, although we didn’t want to leave these lovely people. The Lord blessed each one, crossed them several times, entrusting them to the grace of God and the guardian angels, and we went in the darkness to our boat. Again the women and two men took up the oars, not sparing their festive costumes. We left the shore and, accompanied by the same sad, groaning lament, swam to the ship, and on the shore, in the darkness, a crowd of Christians was slightly gray, and their farewell greetings could be heard. Our rowers all boarded the ship with us and once again received a blessing from the bishop and from Fr. Ignatius, once again a pitiful “farewell,” and the boat went into the darkness. Very nice people. Somehow my heart sank at the sight of this childish simplicity and their complete helplessness in front of the world. Will they survive? Are their moaning sounds a premonition of their complete disappearance? For a long time we looked into the darkness where the boat had disappeared, and their “goodbye” was still heard in our ears. Somehow this dear, incomparable Russian word sounds especially touching from their lips. Whether they will be preserved in their present purity is an even more important question. Until now, the grace of God has protected them, even saved them from direct seduction. One day a boss arrived on the island, perhaps not even without the knowledge of the government; they wanted to explain them even more. Bonza began to preach, etc., but his round, shaved head, howling singing, his Buddhist manners only made our Christians laugh in the end - so the uncalled teacher returned back, without having accomplished anything. Contact with the pagan world is dangerous for Kurilians: according to Fr. Ignatius, the younger generation is no longer as simple as the old people; they have already seen more sights and heard conversations, and some have read. However, there is a lot of good in this: a child’s unreasoning faith is the highest, but it is also more dangerous, like a hothouse plant; will it endure cold and bad weather if it has to meet them? Against temptations, a more conscious faith is needed. God will help our young Kuril residents to maintain their faith, although they will part forever with the dear and sweet simplicity of a child’s heart. The steamer immediately after our arrival raised anchor and headed out to sea. In the darkness we passed a narrow strait, before us again was a black cyclopean bastion, which so wonderfully, as if in a shell, hides the green, picturesque interior of the island. Now, however, everything was shrouded in darkness, only the starry sky slightly illuminated the expanse of the calmly sleeping sea that unfolded before us. August 14. Our native Sea of ​​Okhotsk did not greet us particularly hospitably: I woke up from strong rocking and, feeling very bad, decided not to get up so as not to make it worse. We walked along the western shore of the island. It-rupa, the largest of the Kuril Islands, is the second from the south. Just in the middle of this island, at a cape protruding far into the sea, stands the town of Xian, the destination of our journey. There are no more or less significant settlements to the north of it; That's why the mail boat doesn't go any further. Xiang Bay is completely open, so in a strong wind, they say, sometimes it is impossible to disembark from the ship. This time there was no particular wind, but the swell was large, the Kwanko-maru was rocking at anchor, as if on the open sea. There are almost no Orthodox Christians in this city, and there are almost no Christians in general. We only knew that the daughter of the local mayor (“shi-cheo” in Japanese) studied at our Hakodat school and was baptized there, then, according to rumors, another Christian lived here, who had disappeared from sight for many years and was listed as “reitan” (weak). Of course, it would be impossible to go here on purpose, but if you come, you need to visit these sheep of ours. We somehow got into the big longboat that was jumping, which took a long time to approach us from the shore. It was cloudy, foggy, and barely noticeable rain was drizzling. The wind blew through our summer suits. It's cold, very cold... The Japanese all put on their cotton kimonos, like in winter. And it was just possible not to feel cold in them. This is the beginning of August! Here in Tokyo now even in a summer dress you can’t breathe because of the heat. It smelled like Siberia, Kamchatka... The view from the sea of ​​the city and surrounding area is very picturesque. The mountain on the cape is especially majestic, huge, massive, from time to time the wind exposed its two conical reddish peaks. The town takes refuge under its shadow and completely disappears in front of its mass. There is not much population here: there are 120 houses, the buildings are half-Japanese, half-European, in our opinion, too light, reminiscent of booths at some kind of fair. Trade must be brisk, at least there are better shops than in Nemoro itself. The town serves as a center for various industries scattered along the seashore. But generally speaking, this island is still empty, uncultivated, there are not even roads between its seaside villages, they are content with some kind of sea communication. Of course, over time, the Japanese will settle here, especially since fisheries, as well as mineral wealth, are beginning to attract enterprising people here. Christian preaching has not yet penetrated this island, but there would probably be fruit. The main difficulty is that for this insignificant place, due to its isolation from the rest of the world, it would be necessary to keep a special catechist, but now we need to observe economy in people. We walked around the city, choosing calmer places and looking warily at the covering clouds. Outside the city, on a hill, stands the headquarters, a one-story but wide house, behind a high wooden fence. The mayor lives here, to whose apartment we went. In the living room it was nice to see a small icon of the Mother of God in the place of honor. True, the owner’s uniform cap and saber hung nearby, but nothing more could be expected from a pagan; thank God that he, being a government official, allows his daughter, alone in the city, to openly profess her faith and even hang an icon in his reception room. Soon the owner himself came from the presence, a very kind man, who obviously had heard a lot about Christianity and partly knew it. From the conversation one could conclude that he is interested in faith, but, of course, it seems somewhat humiliating to him to listen to teaching from his young daughter. His Eminence Nicholas urged him to test his faith. The owner complained that he could not get books from which he could become more thoroughly acquainted with Orthodoxy, and that he would never have to personally listen to any preacher in Xianyo. The Bishop promised to send him books from Tokyo, especially the new, just published book by Fr. Pavel Sato’s “Collection of Guides to Orthodoxy,” in which in simple language, according to all the rules of Japanese stylistics, Orthodox dogmas, the foundations of the church structure, moral teaching, etc. are set out in order. This book is written specifically for testing pagans. In the midst of the conversation, our young Christian woman came with a tray in her hands, who, of course, was glad of this visit: after leaving school, she had to retire with her father to this island and only rarely, rarely could she see her fellow believers and talk with them. She kept her faith, prayed every day, and had a prayer book, but she complained that she had not had the opportunity to confess and receive communion here for a long time. Father Ignatius agreed with her regarding confession on his next visit, although this is extremely inconvenient here: no one can say exactly when the ship will arrive, there is no telegraph here, and constant fogs make the ship's trips almost random. However, soon happier days will come for this remote country: leaving Nemoro, we met a large government steamer that was working on laying an underwater cable to the South Kuril Islands. We asked the mayor if our other Christian Suzuki was here somewhere? The mayor said that Suzuki was his clerk, but he did not know anything about his Christianity. We instructed Fr. Ignatius to see this Suzuki, to find out if this is the one we are looking for. Frankly, we didn’t expect anything good from this Christian: even if his closest boss, who was also inclined towards Christianity, knew nothing about him, it follows that this Christian was not particularly zealous, to say the least. We walked around the board until Fr. Ignatius collected information. Finally, he returned with the answer that Suzuki could not see us now, he was working in the office, and would come to see us at the steamship pier. Well, it means he’s a very bad believer, and probably won’t come to the pier, he’ll just come up with excuses. It turned out that the sentence was too strict. Despite the heavy rain that lashed us when we left, Suzuki came dressed in his best dress, received a blessing in front of everyone, and remembered his Christian name. He, according to him, has been baptized for twenty years already and since then has been serving in places where there was no Orthodox Church; he has been living in Xiana for 15–16 years; it would not be surprising if he disappeared from sight. Of course, he doesn’t even remember his religious doctrine in detail. The Bishop asked if he remembered his faith and if there was an icon. “I remember the faith, and there is an icon.” The Bishop blessed him with a small icon as a souvenir and promised to send him books to restore the teaching. Father Ignatius agreed with him about confession. We had already gotten off the boat, and our Pavel was still standing on the shore and bowed to us for a long time. God willing, he will recover completely. “This day was not wasted on us,” the bishop said on this occasion. Having nothing else to do, we visited a canned fish factory in the city, owned by the famous Japanese rich house of Mitsui. Quite interesting. A long barn, along it there are tables for cleaning and capping fish; workers up to 100 people, except fishermen. A longboat arrived with us with fish that had just been taken out of the nets at the seaside. They mercilessly threw the beautiful fish onto the high platform of the pier. Workers from the factory picked them up in baskets. Work immediately began at the factory. One cut off the fish’s head and tail with fins, another hurriedly peeled it, handed it to the third to rinse in clean water, the fourth was waiting with a raised knife: you need to cut the fish into appropriate pieces. And then a whole row of workers sat at the tables, washing and cleaning several more times in order to finally tightly fill small tins with fish and hand them over to the soldering man for sealing. Then the cans are boiled in a cauldron in two stages, and the canned food is ready, the fish is boiled in its own juice. Red fish is used for canning, called “masu” and “shaky” in Japanese, both of which resemble our salmon or salmon. We stayed at the factory for a long time, waiting to see if the rain, which had begun pouring down like buckets, would stop. But the expectations were in vain, so in the rain we had to make our way through the dirty streets to the shore, to the office of the shipping company, where our auditor promised to wait for us with the mail. There are a lot of dogs around the factory and around the city, all of the most authentic Kamchatka breed, shaggy and healthy. Our Siberians ride them in winter. These worthy animals feed monastically on fish and show complete indifference to weather changes. I spent a long time admiring one dog, who was resting calmly in the pouring rain, although it was only two steps to the barn. Perhaps Diogenes would have envied this canine stoicism, although he bore the honorary name of cynic (kion, dog). Five foreigners, apparently British or Americans, unexpectedly boarded the longboat with us, under the escort of a policeman. Everyone is well done, broad-shouldered, healthy, with faces tanned by the sun and wind, with a determined look. The weakest of them, the captain, spoke lightly in Japanese with the hostess of the hotel who was seeing them off, the rest were sternly silent, gloomily looking at the inhospitable sea. It turned out that these fellows climbed into the local sea for seals (in parentheses, this fishing can simply be called theft). They were, of course, not going to Itrup, but further to the north, or so they had to explain to the Japanese police, who would not praise them for illegal fishing off the Japanese islands. Unfortunately for them, the captain did not calculate the current, which is very strong between Itrup and Kunasiri, and their little schooner ran at full speed onto a rock near the southern tip of Itrup. The shore was not far away, they took the sails, ropes, everything that was on the schooner there, sold the broken boat for next to nothing, and had to walk on foot across the entire island to Xiang, where they could meet the steamer and where they were supposed to appear before the bright eyes of the ruler. All of them, of course, did not take any passports from the Japanese government, and now the policeman escorted them to the nearest consulate, that is, to Yokohama, to hand them over there, since without a passport a foreigner cannot travel through Japanese territory. All of them were not cheerful, but the captain was especially depressed, who, along with the schooner, was losing his reputation. Our captain, out of courtesy, invited him to spend the night in his cabin, and at night we heard his heavy sighs. It must not be easy for the poor guy! At three and a half in the afternoon we left Xiang to go straight to Nemoro. But the wind was strong, the sea was terribly rough, and by nightfall a real storm could be expected. Therefore, our captain did not dare to go to sea. About two hours later we stopped in the same open bay near the town of Rubetsu. And here the steamer rocked slightly, but everything was not the same as in Xiang. Father Ignatius went with the auditor to the shore to inquire about the Christians: we still didn’t really know if any of our people were here; The only rumor was that there should have been one or two here. Tripe is also quite famous in Russian maritime history. Here two Russian lieutenants Davydov and Khvostov robbed on the ships of the Russian-American company. Catherine's ambassador, angry at the failure of his mission, sent them to teach the Japanese a lesson, of course, without the knowledge of the Russian government. This is the same ambassador (Rezanov) who, with purely Russian foresight, approaching Japan, ordered all signs of Christianity to be hidden on the ship, and forbade the sailors even to make the sign of the cross, so as not to arouse displeasure among the Japanese. And, of course, this could only further reduce the prestige of the Russian name. Khvostov and Davydov made landings near Rubets, plundered the surrounding villages and, to top it all off, they placed pillars everywhere with Russian inscriptions and declared the land Russian possession. A little later, and it seems that it was in this very Rubets that the famous Golovin and his companions were deceived into captivity, who languished in Japanese captivity for a long time. Currently, Rubetsu is a small village (about 100 houses). Along the shore near it there are also fishing grounds that run in a narrow line. Obviously, the city is full of life only in the summer and during fishing; the rest of the time there is not much activity here. Vladyka and I stayed on the ship: we didn’t want to go ashore in the evening, especially since we didn’t know well about the existence of believers. And they did well to stay: a little later the captain came and spoke to the bishop: “How nice it would be to listen to you, you have lived in Japan for so many years, you saw the fall of the shogun, you know personally what shogun Japan was like. We young people would like to hear your story about this.” But Vladyka refused to talk about the old days: “It’s better to listen to something about our teaching, after all, that’s the only reason we live and travel here.” The captain readily agreed: in general, they wanted to listen to Fr. Nicholas. Almost everyone who was on the ship came to our small wardroom. The officers and mechanics sat on a semicircular sofa at the stern; on the floor on a laid mat, the sailors and two strangers, perhaps the only third-class passengers, sat closely together. The sailors, if possible, washed themselves and even put on European dress. The captain carefully examined them with a master's eye, showing some forgotten buttons. One guy somehow miraculously fit into a small jacket that threatened to fall apart at the seams at the slightest careless movement. But still, everyone was in a formal mood and looked at the bishop and me with curiosity. The Right Reverend sat down on a chair at the table and, turning to everyone, spoke for an hour, briefly setting out the main points of Christian teaching: about one God, the sacrament of the Holy Trinity, about the creation of the world, about man with his immortal soul and eternal needs, about the Fall and about the salvation prepared for people in Christ. From this Christ comes the teaching that we now preach. You can’t call it Russian or anything else, it is God’s, came from above and belongs to all people without distinction of country and people. Therefore, accepting this teaching is not humiliating for any national consciousness, just as it is not humiliating to adopt, for example, steamships, railways and other inventions useful for life. By declaring our teaching to be the one true faith, we are not saying that your current beliefs are no good. No, there are many good things in both Buddhism and Shintoism, which we also recognize. Only these religions are imperfect, they are invented by people themselves in ignorance of the true God. This is the same as a lamp invented to illuminate a person’s home when there is no sun. A lamp is a very useful and even necessary thing in the evening or at night, but no one would even think of lighting it during the day. So both Buddhism and Shintoism are good only in the absence of Christianity, in ignorance of the true God, but with the advent of this activity, they must give way. It was impossible to talk for more than an hour: the listeners were not used to listening for a long time in a row, and they were very tired from the day's work. At the end of the conversation, the sailors dispersed, but the officers remained to talk. The Bishop urged them to explore their faith in every possible way. The captain asked to send books so that he could study the faith on the ship. He was, of course, promised this; The address of our priest in Nemoro was also given, so that he could, if he wanted, talk to him during his stops there. However, it is unknown how long our kind captain will sail in these seas. It is their custom, as often as possible, to transfer officers from one line to another, in order to give them opportunity to become acquainted with all the seas. The Bishop had not yet finished his conversation with the officers when the beaming Fr. returned from the shore. Ignatius: he found the only Orthodox Christian who lived here, whom he brought with him to our ship. This Christian turned out to be a very good believer, in his house he has a large icon in a beautiful icon case, he himself happily started talking about confession, about communion, having lived here for a long time, he was deprived of all this. By his position, he is the chief forester of the local government forests, and therefore a man of some weight. Unfortunately, we could not talk to him in detail: the boatman was in a hurry, afraid of the rising wind. This Christian, by the way, said that he might be transferred as a forest observer to the very north, to the island of Paramushiro. It would be good for our Sikotans if they actually moved there again. A Christian official will protect them from temptations (since he himself guards his faith), and can protect them from any injustices, if any follow from pagan officials, August 15. We stood in Rubetsu until 10 o'clock in the morning (to arrive in Nemoro in the light: the journey is only 18 hours). It was warm, good. Only the picturesque mountains of the island were covered with thick, low-lying clouds. We walked for a long time along the banks of Itrup, admiring its picturesque mountains, which sometimes took on the most bizarre shapes. I especially remember the Lion rock, reminiscent of the famous Sphinx. The weather was relatively good, the sea was quite calm, and to some extent it was possible not to get seasick, although I could not quite come to terms with the seasickness. But then they entered the strait between Itrup and Kunasiri. From afar, I noticed some strange phenomenon in the sea: the smooth, almost mirror-like surface of the water, after some invisible line, suddenly began to frantically agitate, almost bubble. This meeting of currents from the ocean and from the Sea of ​​Okhotsk. This place is always crowded, the waves are short, unbearable for those prone to seasickness. We walked for some time along the very edge of this crowd: the sea was calm on the right, bubbling on the left. This, of course, was very interesting to watch, but when I had to cross the crowd, I began to think whether it was time to go to bed. The worst thing was that in the evening fogs began to roll in, due to which our already not entirely courier progress was further delayed. At seven o'clock, however, I could not stand it and lay down, hoping to get up tomorrow when the sea was completely calm in the Nemorosskaya pier. August 16. I woke up very early, at 4 o’clock, and immediately noticed with pleasure that our ship was at anchor: it means they had arrived. I quickly get dressed and go on deck. A thick fog enveloped our Kwanko-maru, and nothing could be seen anywhere. We are anchored in the open sea, and we can’t really determine where we are and how far to Nemoro: fog and current have completely knocked us off course. That's the sea! We stood in this helpless position until about 9 o'clock, when it became a little clearer. It turned out that Nemoro was very close and that we had walked quite a distance to the east. They turned around and walked forward with confidence; By 10 o'clock we were already in the harbor, just as foggy. Our first question upon entering the hotel was: “When does the ship leave for Hakodate?” They answered us: “According to the schedule, it should go on Thursday (today is only Tuesday), it will probably be released on Friday.” We had to wait four whole days to no avail. It was a pity to waste time, but Fr. Ignatius had previously spoken a lot about various places on the seashore north of Nemoro, where he had listeners, and where in general there was great hope for the spread of the faith. It was interesting to examine this too, so that later at the council, if there was talk about sending catechists there, I would know what was being discussed. Therefore, they decided that the Right Reverend would remain alone in Nemoro to celebrate the Transfiguration with the Christians and then, on Friday, leave for Tokyo (he was already significantly late); Fr. and I Ignatius, we will go together to the mentioned places. In Shibetsu and Kumbetsu (actually, Sibet and Kumbet, Ainos words), there is one person each and recently baptized believers. To Shibetsu it is about 17 ri (ri is equal to four versts minus three tenths), then from there to Kumbetsu it is 5 ri. The entire distance must be covered on horseback. I'm generally a pretty bad cavalryman; in childhood I once rode several fathoms on a Cossack saddle, then in Palestine I rode a donkey. That's all the practice is. However, people travel, why shouldn’t I try too? Moreover, only true zoologists can immediately distinguish a large donkey from a small horse. Strengthened by this syllogism, I decided to keep up with Fr. Ignatius. August 17. In the morning at seven o'clock, as agreed yesterday, they brought two horses (they weren't even late, contrary to Japanese custom). We said goodbye to our bishop and climbed onto our Rossinantes. The bishop admonished us with his blessing and covenant not to fall from a horse, and if you do fall, then certainly on the sand - and we trembled through the streets of Nemoro. For the first time, the English saddle seemed completely uncomfortable to me; for some reason it was constantly bouncing and pounding painfully. I began to be annoyed with Fr. who was jumping in front. Ignatius - well, where is he driving so hastily? Partly I was also indignant at the horse; it could have walked much more smoothly. And the horse was a quite decent, elderly animal, which treated the reins with complete indifference - and in the most pathetic moments, when I was about to let it almost go into the quarry, using all the measures of encouragement available to me, for some reason it felt a surge of appetite and impolitely turned around to nibble some grass. Anyway, the first five ri seemed very long to me. However, then I soon got used to it, only the next day it was not so calm to sit, but that’s all. We drove first through several villages, then a long, long bridge and a road across a river or bay, wonderfully replete with various shells, and from there all along the seaside, where fishing fisheries, villages, etc., are almost continuously going on. The fisheries now stood empty (they will operate in the 10th-11th month, when the main fish here is caught - shake). Here and there small teams of fishermen are preparing for autumn fishing: they are weaving seines. Near each fishery there are several boilers dug into the ground with fireboxes underneath; This is for boiling heads and tails and all kinds of fish waste in general: this is then used to fertilize the fields. In some places in Eso I subsequently saw industries devoted exclusively to the preparation of this fertilizer. Small fish, somewhat similar to herring, are caught in masses, and the entire catch goes into these pots. Some boilers were smoking as we passed, spreading a disgusting stench. In the villages there is noticeably more life: there are few people there, but you can see dogs, cows, and sometimes the surprised and indignant head of a rooster or a hen will stretch out from the yard. But it is still sleeping until autumn. However, fish are complaining about the catch here too; they must have scared her away with their overzealousness. First Tobuto Station. Here we change horses and, barely moving our stiff legs, get into the boat and slowly cross the bay with the horses. From this village it is 3 ri to Betsukai. We drive through a green plain, along which herds of horses graze here and there. Then dunes overgrown with flowering rose hips, then again the seaside with its endless fisheries. Black forest appeared on the left; From time to time the fields were cleared, but nothing had been sown on them yet. So far, it seems, potatoes are being diligently bred here. It will be born very large, much better than in old Japan. In winter, when all the rice comes out (and this sometimes happens if ice prevents steamboats from entering Nemoro for a long time), potatoes serve as an indispensable help for the local population. Betsukai is a small fishing town or, in fact, several scattered fishing villages, which are only administratively connected into a city. There are up to 200 houses in it, but if we count only the city in the narrow sense, that is, the village in which all government places are located, then there will not be more than 100 houses. In previous years, when there was a good fish catch, the city prospered, but now it has fallen into decay and is somewhat impoverished. We entered a huge canned fish factory (similar to the one in Xiana): it stood silently, the machines were abandoned, there was dust everywhere. – In the city there are several wretched Ainos huts, one might rather say huts. On the way, sometimes we come across the Ainos themselves, some quiet, like downtrodden people, humbly bowing to us. According to my companion, the officials treated them very harshly, so every European hat became scary for them; they see everyone as officials. “In Betsukai we have neither believers nor those who listen to the teaching. Perhaps later, when a special catechist can be identified for Shibetsu, this latter will plant the seed of faith here too. After lunch at the hotel, which was very clean for such a wilderness, we, despite the entreaties of the hostess, moved on. Three and a half ri to Shimbetsu, a small inn, lost among the virgin forest. We all drove through the forest, which was still completely untouched. There are only civilizations that are straight as an arrow, a post road - a path, and telegraph poles. The forest is almost exclusively black: larch, oak, ash, elm, but the most pleasant whiteness of all is the trunk of our native birch tree. This was the first time in Japan I met my fellow countrywoman. There are even entire groves of birches here. Even the Japanese managed to appreciate birch firewood, although, of course, their airy houses, no matter what you drown, still cannot be heated. The forest is quiet, people are seen very rarely, mostly on horseback. He will rush past our turtle train, look down on us from above, another, according to ancient custom, will apologize for not getting off his horse (when a samurai passed, all non-samurai were obliged to get off their horses and bow deeply), and will hide in the forest. A fox ran out onto the road ahead. Not at all afraid, she stood, looked at us and set off forward along the road, coquettishly spreading her golden tail. She will run away a little, stop, turn her beautiful face towards us, and look until, having had enough of playing, she disappears from the road into the thickets. Sometimes a squirrel will jump on a trunk that has fallen across the road and quickly disappear when it sees us. They say that bears are found in greater numbers in these forests. Now, if Mikhail Ivanovich decided to take a walk on the road, the jokes would be bad, don’t expect flirtatiousness from him. We spend the night in Shimbetsu, where a spacious room, “zashiki,” was opened and swept out for us, in which, obviously, rarely anyone spends the night. And who wants to spend the night in the forest when there are cities on both sides? In zashiki, in a place of honor there is a huge Buddhist shrine, closed from indiscreet eyes, and in the kitchen under the ceiling there is a shelf with idols, cut paper, etc., this is a Shinto shrine. The two religions, therefore, coexist calmly in the same home and even, perhaps, in the same consciousness of the Japanese. This can be seen all over Japan. The old "obaasan", by all appearances, is a devout Buddhist, but she very kindly received us, fed us a simple but tasty dinner for hunger, and laid out pound "futons" for the night (this word could be translated: blankets, if they were not more like mattresses). August 18. Transfiguration. In the morning, after praying and having breakfast, we moved on. Five ri, and - Shibetsu, the goal of our aspirations. The road again stretches through endless virgin forest. We had to ford two or three rivers. Sometimes the road reminded us of our zemstvos; in Japan, even without them, roads can sometimes be bad. Shibetsu is a small town of 250 houses, a kind of capital of this forest region. Like Betsukai, it consists of a small village of one street and several more or less scattered villages. Father Ignatius lived here for a whole month last year, preaching the doctrine every day. There were always about ten listeners, and others came, but not regularly 6 . He managed to explain to them briefly the Creed; many became very interested in the teaching, but, of course, they could not be prepared for baptism within a month. That is why it would be good to have a separate catechist here. We stayed in a very good hotel. On the wall hung a cheap portrait of three famous Germans (Wilhelm I, Bismarck and Moltke), before whom the Japanese are especially in awe. – Before we had time to have lunch, one of the listeners, Sasaki, the manager of the office of one of the fishing companies, came to us. They all knew that Nikolai was expected in Nemoro; Sasaki even sent a letter to Fr. Ignatius, with a request to invite Nikolai-san to them in Shibetsu. Seeing two horses and some foreigner on one of them, Sasaki thought that Nikolai-san himself had arrived. We talked to him a little. The man is apparently very smart and takes matters of faith very seriously. He re-read all the books about Christianity that came to him; he even wrote out some Orthodox books to his own account, which means a lot for a pagan, and a merchant at that. Having not yet converted to Orthodoxy himself, Sasaki already spoke passionately about it with his acquaintances, explained to them various misunderstandings, and even objected to various absurd inventions that are spread about our faith by Buddhists, especially Protestants. We agreed with him to come to his house this evening, where others who wish to listen to the teaching will gather; there we'll talk about faith. After seeing Sasaki off, we ourselves went around the city, we wanted to see him, and most importantly, we needed to visit the house of our Christian Philip Itoo, who serves as a clerk in the same fishing company and was baptized by Fr. Ignatius last year. His house was completely on the outskirts. Unfortunately, the owner himself was not at home: he had gone fishing somewhere about 5 years from here. At home there were only his mother - an old woman, an evil Buddhist, not susceptible to any influence and terribly hating Christianity, then his wife and a little adopted girl. My wife, being younger, is not so fanatical; last year she listened quite willingly to the teachings of Fr. Ignatius, only, of course, living constantly with her mother-in-law, is under her influence. It must be borne in mind that, according to the Japanese samurai customs of old, a young woman, entering her husband’s house, must follow his parents in everything and be in unconditional submission to them. It is clear that if the mother or father is a fanatic, the daughter-in-law cannot easily abandon their faith. – In Philip’s own room there hangs an icon of the Mother of God. He is a Christian, according to Fr. Ignatius is very good, zealously observing and testing the faith. They have a kind of spiritual brotherhood with Pavel Ogawa, whom we should see in Kumbetsu. Perhaps, thanks to these sincerely believing Christians, others will accept the teaching, just as now, thanks to their constant confession and conversations, many are beginning to think about the teaching. We then visited two listening houses. One Tokura, a postal official, is almost even the head of the local office. He, along with his wife, listen carefully to the faith. Tokura himself, apparently, already believes, but has not yet decided to convert completely, still hesitates and therefore suffers in his soul. Another house is the family of the above-mentioned Sasaki. His wife is also inclined towards faith. These two houses are obviously very close to each other, and, probably, if they are baptized, they will certainly be together. Both of them have exactly four small children, who, of course, will then follow their parents. House Sasaki, husband and wife, had previously listened to Protestant, Baptist teachings, but the husband, as a very smart and deeply thoughtful person, immediately saw the weaknesses of Baptistism, its superficiality, instability. Having met with Fr. Ignatius, began to listen to Orthodox sermons. At the same time, he became convinced with his own eyes how false the various slander spread by Baptists about Orthodoxy was; this, he said, only turned him further away from Baptistism. Both husband and wife, it seems, are already complete believers and would be ready to accept Orthodox baptism, but only their long-term friendship with the local Baptist preacher is holding them back somewhat. Of course, true faith cannot be embarrassed by such insignificant obstacles. Therefore, it is necessary for all these people to pay even more attention to faith, to listen more, to pray, so that they can then proceed to baptism, without fear of anything. Opposite our hotel. Ignatius showed me a house with three large signs. This was the Baptist church house. One sign about the place of preaching, then about something else, and a third about the permanent temperance society. And the strange thing is that all these Methodists, Baptists, Congregationalists and others, who declare themselves to be restorers of the true teaching of Christ, without any admixture or distortion, in the end mixed the church with the temperance society. Now the person receiving baptism from them must take a vow of sobriety (sometimes, in addition, non-smoking tobacco). The question is, what do Christ and sobriety or tobacco have in common? Of course, there should be sobriety societies in the church; it is impossible to do without them given the current spread of drunkenness, given its extreme destructiveness for people’s life, etc. But the church is still not a society of sobriety, and nowhere and never has Christianity made abstinence from wine (not from drunkenness) its indispensable dogma. In a particular case this may be true, but in teaching and in the church it is not. However, if we take into account the instability of church life in all such spiritual sects, then this confusion of the church with the temperance society is quite understandable. Indeed, if there were not this common vow of sobriety, what would unite the members of any Baptist congregation into one whole? Faith in Christ? But each of them believes as he thinks best, and no one can take away this freedom of belief from him. Belonging to a community? But this is too insignificant, a purely formal connection, which still needs its justification. So they begin to sing in different ways about Christian love without arguing about opinions, and in order to have something tangible, they come up with sobriety societies, non-smoking tobacco, etc., forgetting that such societies can exist with the same success without Christianity (there are examples of this in Japan). A Baptist preacher has been living in Shibetsu for 5-6 years now, and European missionaries also come from time to time (there was one just before us), but, as in Nemoro, they have had very little success; so far there have been only 4 believers, and the other day three were baptized. Of course, such sterility may also be explained by the qualities of the catechist himself, his laziness, and inability to deal with people (although their catechists are paid very well, and therefore, usually, the people are good in worldly terms). Only sometimes they preach without believing themselves. I subsequently had the opportunity to see such a preacher. He responded to objections!: “That’s what our church teaches, but I don’t think so at all.” This preacher first served in the Carpenter community (“baputezma – but obaasan”); but then, seeing that “Obaa-san” was getting older, and that only she supported the community with her own funds, and that with her death, perhaps, all support would cease, our preacher decided to quickly switch to episcopal catechists: you can believe anything there, you just need to get used to preaching a little differently. In saying this, I, of course, do not at all want to throw dirt at all heterodox preachers; among them there are many worthy, sincere people; I am only pointing out the example of preachers who sometimes have to be entrusted with leading souls to salvation. Of course, such a shepherd will not lead his flock far, and among the pagans there are few who are willing to listen to an unbelieving sermon: they have heard plenty of such sermons from Buddhists. At seven o'clock in the evening we were supposed to come to Sasaki, but it was not seven yet, and Sasaki's son had already come running after us: everything was already ready there. We were taken to zashiki, where “zabutons” (small rectangular rugs for sitting with legs crossed) were laid out in a semicircle near the walls, and “hibatsi” were placed (it was not at all hot). So far there were only two people sitting: the owner himself and another fishmonger. After the usual formalities, remarks about the weather, fatigue, etc., our conversation immediately turned to questions of faith. There was no particular order; they talked about everything that was perplexing. By the way, I explained to them the origin of various pagan religions, in which there is certainly something true, namely, the search for God, whom man feels and remembers, only he confuses this truth with his various considerations and other things. Meanwhile, little by little other listeners arrived. “Song-cheo” came, i.e. the headman of the village or head, a printed old man: shaven, correct, with measured manners, with precise bows - Tokura, who all the time sat with his head bowed deeply, obviously tormented by his indecision. About 6 men and two women gathered (Tokur’s wife came), who both sat in the next room, according to ancient etiquette. All former listeners of Fr. Ignatius, with the exception of one tailor, who listened somewhat to the teaching in Hakodate. Since they all constantly heard Baptists, even deliberately talked with the local Baptist preacher about faith, then, naturally, the conversation leaned towards the question of the reasons for the disagreements between Christian confessions, on whose side is the truth. We usually avoid such questions in conversations with pagans, but this time it was impossible to avoid answering. It is said about Catholicism as a distortion of Orthodoxy, and about Protestantism as a well-intentioned but unsuccessful attempt to correct this distortion. It was said about the church as the custodian of Christ's teaching, which therefore has the right to preach only that and in the way that and as Christ commanded it, no more, no less, nothing human should be mixed with the Divine. They also asked about the veneration of icons, etc. The questions were posed more by the sealed elder or the fishmonger, and Sasaki sometimes explained to them in some detail some perplexities regarding Orthodoxy. At 9 and a half o'clock, when everyone had already gathered, Fr. Ignatius began catechesis, spoke about the need for religion, the need to think about where the world came from and man in it, etc. He spoke positively brilliantly, I even listened to him. In one place he even used the Greek word (idol and icon), and the listeners cleared their throats somewhat in fear. After him, I outlined the teaching of Holy Scripture about the creation of the world, about man, about the Fall, its consequences and about salvation in Christ. This provided a topic for the subsequent conversation, and we talked for a long time about faith, about human freedom, and so on until exactly 12 o’clock. Everyone, apparently, was very interested in faith, listened attentively, clearly expressed their bewilderments, obviously, they had thought and talked about this before among themselves. One, however, a young guy who came urgently from some party, despite all his diligence, fell hopelessly asleep and left before the others. The next day in the morning we had to go to Kumbetsa, so having agreed to meet at Tokur's the next evening, we said goodbye and cheerfully went to the hotel. In such a conversation you somehow don’t notice the fatigue. August 19. In the morning we left for Kumbetsu, five ri. This time we had to leave the post road, which turned into the forest, but we headed along the seaside. We drove through several villages; in previous years and even very recently, the Ainos lived here, but now only insignificant remnants of them somehow eke out an existence, mostly serving as workers in the fields. Soon we drove through the forest, this time even more untouched, now even the telegraph poles did not disturb the wild harmony with their presence. The road began to zigzag, swamps, ravines... We climbed and descended several times along steep slopes. I especially remember one place: a narrow path, just enough for one horse to pass, descends almost along a steep bank, in one place there is even a scree, the earth crawls under your feet, pebbles fly down, and below (15 fathoms) the sea foams on the stones. If your horse stumbles, you will be lost. However, the horses are accustomed to the road and walk carefully but confidently. And I must admit, it was very scary to pass this scree. At about 11 o'clock we were already in Kumbetsu. They left the outer dress at the hotel and went on foot to Fukuba, that is, the fish pond, where our Christian Pavel Ogawa lives. On the outskirts we walked past a Buddhist temple, past a school (without which there is no village in Japan) and followed a good path through the forest. It was easy to walk, the path was smooth, mowed on both sides; but it suddenly seemed to the “simp” (father) that this was not the right path, you need to go along a more direct path. We returned, followed a more direct route, which, of course, led us to the river, and the bridge, as always, turned out to be dismantled or demolished. The river is shallow, clear as crystal, but still, wading through it was not part of our plans. Thank God the men who were floating chopped wood down the river explained to us that the bridge was higher up the river. There is nothing to do, we went entirely through the dense bushes and wet grass. The journey was not easy. There is especially a lot of tall grass here, or fuki in Japanese, like our burdocks, only much taller and the leaves wider. The Japanese in old Japan deliberately cultivated this herb in their gardens, like other vegetables, and used it for food, even salting it for the winter. It may be very tasty, but climbing through dense thickets of such grass is not nearly as pleasant. The little simp was fine: he completely disappeared under the tall burdock trees and could see the road underneath them perfectly. I kept tripping over their thick stems and roots. It’s good that we didn’t encounter a bear in this slum. They say there are a lot of them here, and they often come to this river to fish. Syake rises into every clean river with spring water to spawn. Mikhail Ivanovich enters the water and intercepts the fish as it returns downstream to the sea. Local residents say that a bear strings a caught fish onto a branch, but does not think of securing the end; so he loses all his fish along the way. I cannot judge how true this is, although I would like to attribute such a civilization to our Mikhail Ivanovich. Fortunately, the bridge was not so far away, and with it the old mowed path. We set off along it, and after about 50 minutes of walking, a fish tank appeared through the thicket of the forest. A new, newly built house, a barn, a woodpile of thick firewood, behind it a small vegetable garden without any fence, and to the right, above the flowing river, a building of a special design leaned against a mountain, in which the fishpond is located. There is a dense forest all around. The owner was found in the middle of the yard wearing a cuff, smearing something like that with tar. He did not expect us and therefore was even more delighted from the surprise. He immediately led us into the house, let us go ahead into the zashiki, and he washed himself, combed his hair, put on a haori and came to say hello. In the “zashiki”, a clean and bright room, with European windows (Japanese houses are poorly protected from the local frosts), in a place of honor is an icon of the Mother of God and St. Apostle. Paul, under it there is a shelf for the prayer book and the Gospel, which lay here in several editions. Nearby in the corner is a makeshift bookcase, all filled with books of theological content. Paul was baptized six years ago and was forced to live in this monastery, far from human habitation and Christians. Only the priest visits him once a year for confession and St. Participles. He is a good Christian, a sincere believer. The Protestants found out about this, and, taking advantage of his helplessness, they began to press on him, blaspheming the Orthodox faith in every possible way and luring him to themselves. Paul believed with all his heart, he knew that he believed in the truth, but in a dispute with Protestants he often could not say anything in defense of his faith. “It means that I don’t know Orthodox teaching enough, I need to study,” Pavel said to himself and began to subscribe at his own expense to all the books that were published by our mission. Baptist inventions were soon revealed, Paul could now answer their objections, and the Baptists little by little left him alone. By the way, European missionaries did not hesitate to come to Paul, trying to catch him. One of them (Paul also said his last name, but you can’t make it out in the Japanese accent) especially zealously scolded Orthodoxy, using all the usual tricks of the enemies of the church. “This is the Russian faith, the Japanese should not accept it, the Russians are idolaters, they bow to icons.” To this, Pavel simply answered him: “I don’t know how Russians believe and how they understand icons, I haven’t been there and I can’t verify your words. I accepted faith not from the Russians, but from God, and I can fully distinguish the veneration of an icon from Divine worship, befitting only God.” So the venerable tempter left with nothing. Paul has still not lost his desire for spiritual reading, subscribes to our “Orthodox Messenger” and greedily pounces on every new book that is announced in it. Now, of course, he knows the faith much better than many catechists, and most importantly, he combines with knowledge the same strong faith. As I mentioned above, there is a kind of spiritual brotherhood between him and Philip Itoo (a Christian in Shibetsu). Both are good believers, they mutually support each other in faith amid the pagan world surrounding them on all sides. They will come together, study the teaching together, read spiritual books or Holy Scripture. The other day, for example, Philip lived here for three whole days and they, according to Paul, enjoyed the book they had just received: the sermons of John Chrysostom. We made a vow to read the New Testament every day, whoever reads the most. Thanks to these two, believers and those around them are gradually hearing about faith, and some are inclined towards it. This is, indeed, a leaven that can make the environment ferment better than any learned catechist. Together with Pavel, only two more live in his forest hermitage: Luka, a boy of about 15, partly Pavel’s pupil, partly working with him in a fishing company, and his (Pavlova’s) wife. Luke was converted to Christ by Paul himself and only received the final announcement from Fr. Ignatius at the same time as Philip Itoo; baptism took place here in the monastery. Paul's wife still does not give in to his admonitions, although he sometimes speaks entire sermons to her. She comes from a nearby village and was raised in a family that has not had any direct connection to any of the Japanese religions for a long time. Therefore, since childhood, her soul has been completely indifferent to religious issues. It is difficult to awaken such a soul. This is a constant source of grief for Paul. Of course, he could force his wife to be baptized, but such baptisms, if possible, should be avoided, because they can only lead to apostasy, and they also harm the believers themselves. I advised him not to rush, to be faithful to the teaching himself in everything, and to pray more diligently for the conversion of his wife; maybe this prayer will be crowned with success. They began preparing lunch for us, that is, boiling (actually, steaming) rice, fish, which was immediately cut, potatoes and other vegetables taken directly from the garden. Something very similar to a monastery beehouse:. While these preparations were going on, Pavel showed us his possessions, especially the fish tank. – On stilts above the river, fast flowing and transparent as glass, there is a small barn house. Inside, across its entire width, narrow and long boxes, made of thick prosthes and coated with tar, are placed at equal distances. They stand at a height of half the height, one end rests against the wall and through an opening they are connected to a spring that flows abundantly from the mountain right behind the wall. At the other end, zinc pipes run vertically into the floor and further into the river. The gutters are divided into slots into which small square strainers are inserted, ten on top of each other. At certain times of the year, fish are caught in the sea, the caviar is removed from it and placed in the aforementioned strainers. Then spring water is released into the gutters, because only in spring water, which is certainly very cold and completely clean, can the embryos of this fish develop. When the embryos emerge from the testicles, fast-flowing spring water carries them through zinc pipes down into the river, which is blocked a little lower by a net during this period. In the dam formed in this way, the embryos live for three months until they grow into fish. Then the net is removed and the young fish go out into life, into the open sea. Caviar is obtained from fish from the sea. Syake comes and spawns into this river herself, and even goes up to the cage itself, but these eggs are not taken, leaving them to develop in freedom. The purpose of all this is to accustom the fish to enter this river, so that later they can take it without much difficulty and expense. It has been noticed that every year the syake comes to the place where it was bred. All you have to do is block the river at a certain time, and all the fish that come will be caught. You don’t need large nets or boats, and, most importantly, you can take fish in bulk. The company where Pavel and our friends in Shibetsu work has several such cages, but they were opened recently, so we haven’t had to catch our own fish yet. Another detail of the cage: near the wall near the door there is a fairly capacious quadrangular vat for water, exactly the same tarred as everything else here. In this vat last year Fr. Ignatius baptized Luke, Paul's pupil and cohabitant, and Philip Itoo from Shibetsu. There was no suitable vessel, but this vat is always kept clean. We also examined Pavel’s small garden, where all the vegetables necessary for household use grow. He plans to get chickens too, but the cow is unlikely to live here for long: the bears will not fail to feast on her. Pavel has been living here for seven years, living completely away from everyone. He goes to the city only occasionally on business, and he also has few visitors. At first, he says, it was a little boring, but now he’s used to it, and there’s no time to be bored. A lot of trouble comes from a fish tank, then a vegetable garden, then you need to collect and chop firewood in the forest; a lot of fuel is required for the winter. There is free time left, a whole corner of books, Pavel reads them with enthusiasm, studies. This is how his working, sober, truly Christian life goes. After baptism, he lived all the time away from the church, so he has no direct connection with any church community, for example, in Nemoro. Still, Paul sometimes donates what he can, either he’ll give clothes to the priest or something else. It must be said that we do not charge for our services, since the priests receive a salary from the mission, but, of course, any sacrifice in favor of the priest should be encouraged, since this is a direct path to the ecclesiastical independence of the Japanese (materially). Paul's wife, deaf to his preaching, prepared us a delicious dinner, during which we talked with Paul about various things, and he complained about his wife's reluctance to believe in Christ. And my wife, still a young woman, somehow smiled stupidly and listened to our beliefs completely indifferently. No, apparently, if the grace of God does not touch the heart of a person, tell him anything, prove the truth of our faith in the most logical way, he will not believe. It is, of course, not difficult to understand; it only requires a certain degree of education or even simple logic, simple common sense; but in order to recognize the understood teaching as reality, in order to find the purpose and meaning of one’s life in it, reason is powerless for this, and even man himself is powerless. We began to get ready to head back. It turned out that Pavel also needed to be in Subets tomorrow morning on some business. The three of us went, this time we didn’t have to climb through the thickets, we walked all the way to Kumbetsu along a good mown path. From Kumbetsu again on horseback; Another peasant joined us, probably the postman. I can boast that this time we were no longer marching at a snail's pace, but for real. Driving quickly turned out to be not as painful as walking. But, no matter how much we were in a hurry, we arrived in Shibetsu already after dark, had dinner, and only around 9 o’clock could we arrive at Tokura’s house, where we had a meeting scheduled for that evening. The listeners were yesterday's listeners and, in addition, Pavel and the peasant postman who came with us. But, besides these visible listeners, there were undoubtedly also invisible ones: Tokur’s apartment is located in the post office building itself and is separated from other rooms only by cardboard screens. We could easily hear the sound of the telegraph machine, conversations, etc. Moreover, it was possible to listen to our sermon, which was spoken, of course, in a slightly raised voice. Since it was already late and everyone had gathered, Fr. Ignatius, without wasting any time, immediately began the catechization, and spoke for about forty minutes, continuing my speech yesterday, about Christ as the only Savior of the human race, who can grant us forgiveness of sins and eternal life. I then spoke about the need in this life to prepare your soul for the perception of eternal bliss, because those who are able to participate in this bliss can receive it, but those who are unable will only suffer from it even more. The conversation naturally turned to the question of death, its different understanding in everyday life and in different religions. We developed the idea of ​​what death serves for a true Christian, about our connection with the dead, about our relationship to saints and non-saints, about the need to honor the former and call on them for help and pray for the latter in order to help them as much as possible for us. Again there was a comparison of our teaching with the Baptist one, again we had to disassemble and refute their various unceremonious slander against our faith. They especially love to encourage the false patriotism of the Japanese, Orthodoxy is the Russian faith, the Tsar is the head of their church, and therefore everyone baptized in Orthodoxy must recognize the supremacy of the Russian Emperor over himself. To understand the severity of this absurd slander, you need to know how jealous the Japanese are of everything that concerns their duty of loyalty to their emperor. It's kind of a fad here. Moreover, of all the foreign countries, Russia is most disliked here, which in the minds of the Japanese is the embodiment of everything generally hostile to the fatherland. Recently I had to see an excerpt from the Japanese newspaper “Jim-min”, which condemns this falsely directed patriotism: the duty of a patriot is not only to sacrifice himself in a moment of danger in favor of the Sovereign and the fatherland, but also something broader and more peaceful, which does not necessarily require considering every foreigner as an enemy. This newspaper, by the way, also gives examples of false patriotism. School teachers are in the habit of painting the Liaodong Peninsula in a special color on geographical maps so that students always remember the “national grievance”; and one teacher sent the children out into the snow in winter: you must gradually get used to the Siberian climate so as not to fail during the war. It is clear with what feelings towards Russia the future generation of Japan leaves school. This is why our fellow Baptist missionaries are so diligent in pointing out to the Japanese the connection between Orthodoxy and Russia. Of course, this prick is insignificant; anyone who has become at least a little acquainted with Orthodoxy will understand the untruth of this, but such slander can make an impression on a simple pagan, especially a peasant. And this time the printed old man asked questions; he, in fact, did not object, but only expressed his thoughts and considerations. The conversation proceeded seriously and peacefully. Sasaki sometimes inserted remarks of his own, and Tokura again sat deeply bowed, sighing, tormented by indecision, only from time to time, somehow hastily, as if having woken up, he got up and began pushing cups of tea or “okwasi” (Japanese cookies) to those present. The young man who fell asleep yesterday was there again, but also left earlier. We parted as yesterday, at midnight, saying goodbye to everyone, so that tomorrow morning we could leave for Nemoro. Father Ignatius promised to be here again this year and live for a month. Perhaps, with God's help, some of the listeners will be baptized. Then our church in Shibetsu can be considered quite firmly established, because the listeners are all respectable people, respected in the town (Sasaki, Tokura). August 20. We slowly headed back. There was no hurry; the cavalry riding of previous days made itself felt. August 21. Sunday. After a quick drive, at the first hour of the day we arrived in Nemoro and then, to our surprise, we learned that the Reverend had not yet left. On the 19th he boarded the ship Suruga-maru to leave at midnight. But neither at midnight nor the next day the ship left: fogs prevented the terrible Nosyap from passing through. On Saturday, the bishop went ashore, served an all-night vigil in the prayer house, and finally said goodbye to the Christians. On Sunday morning, to everyone's joy, the steamer, busily puffing, raised anchor and went to sea, but, alas, only reached Nosyapu, looked at the cloud that had enveloped it and shamefully returned to Nemoro. Imagine the annoyance of the passengers when, almost right after them, the Owari-maru arrived from Hakodate on the roadstead, which, therefore, also had to pass through Nosyapu. The fault, therefore, lies with the cowardly captain. The elderly Japanese Admiral Ito, chief of the main naval headquarters, and his adjutants are also traveling with the Reverend on the Suruga Maru. - “Why did you come here? I hear that you are looking for a new harbor for the navy? He looked innocent: “I just wanted to take a walk, I’ve been staying in Tokyo for too long.” It's a good walk: the old sailor is shaking all over Jezo on horseback. All this is the nightmare of the Russian invasion. In the evening, all passengers traveling to Hakodate transferred to the Owari Maru. I also took a ticket for it, and already in the dark I moved with my luggage. “Will it be possible to leave tomorrow?” - a question asked a thousand times by passengers. Will this ship really have to sit in Nemoro for another two or three days? From this you can understand what the local sea communication is like: either the ship is not on time, or it cannot go because the sea does not allow it. The captain of the Owari-maru looked out, however, well done, apparently a brave and self-confident man, he promised to definitely leave tomorrow. August 10–22. At 4 o'clock in the morning, "Owari-maru" really left and, despite the fog, made its way through Nosyapa, it was only necessary to stop for a while in front of a dangerous place: the breeze slightly lifted the edge of the foggy cover, and for a good navigator this is enough to make up his mind. The fog immediately descended again, but the road was clear. And now there is fog all around, but “Owari-maru” moves confidently, without slowing down. “Suruga-maru” is also trailing behind us, with its overly cautious captain. It will appear, then hide again behind the fog, only sirens (whistles), howling, calling to each other. A strip of fog passes, and immediately there is a wonderful, sparkling sea and a clear southern day. Every now and then you come across sperm whales, two or three at a time, moving more to the south. Not a minute goes by without a smooth, shiny back appearing somewhere or a splash of water flying into the air. Sometimes, seeing a nearby steamer, the giant will dive, his mighty tail, waving, will smoothly descend into the water. Once, from under the very bow of the steamer, a frightened animal rushed to the side, and we could clearly see its gigantic gray back. And so almost all the way to Hakodate. The Eminence told how one day three such animals entered the Hakodat raid itself, causing quite a commotion there. For such carelessness, one paid with his life, while two sailed away. There are generally a lot of sperm whales here, but they say they are caught reluctantly, they are of some special kind and are not profitable for the catcher. On the 23rd we arrived safely in Hakodate, and on the 12th–24th the Right Reverend departed by steamship for Aomori and from there by rail to Tookeo, where the mission’s business had long awaited him. I stayed in Hakodate for two days so that I could then go to the parish of Fr. Nicholas Sakurai, explore the churches and visit the Christians scattered around the island of Ezo. On August 26 at 8 o'clock in the evening, as we were told, a steamer was leaving Hakodate for Mororan; I had to ride on it to get to the parish of Father Nikolai Sakurai. At six o'clock the all-night vigil began in our small church: tomorrow was the feast of the Dormition of the Mother of God. Father Peter, the local priest, served, a very quiet, pious man, although perhaps not as lively as we would like in this lively place. The service proceeds decorously, both proverbs and stichera are read; there are many different purely Russian customs, which have not yet been properly inculcated in our other churches, even in the Suruga Dai church. There is even one zealous boy, zealous over the censer, carrying candles with a businesslike appearance, folding vestments and all the while singing after the choir. Having entered the church, everyone goes to the analogue, kisses the icon of the holiday or the resurrection, then the large crucifix (Golgotha). This is already in Greek: so no one will enter or leave without kissing the icons. During the liturgy, while reading “I will bless the Lord,” a collection is made for the church. This is not the case anywhere in Japan. Just as there is no custom to express one’s zeal and prayer by placing candles in front of icons, and yet both customs are very important for teaching believers to donate to the church. A small choir of a catechist and various wives and girls living in the church house sang (wives of catechists, daughters of guards, etc.), another catechist in a surplice stood on the choir and read. They sang generally well, and almost by heart: of course, this will not surprise Russian Christians; but in Japan, without a book in your hands, there is no singing. Even if the singer doesn’t even look at the book and even sings completely differently from what is written, he still has the notes in his hands, there’s no other way. The main difference between the Hakodat church is that old Nikita, who has been living in the church house for thirty years, regularly rings during the all-night vigil, the second and third bells, and at the end of the service. One thing that will unpleasantly strike a Russian when entering a Japanese Orthodox church, especially on the eve of and on major holidays, is the very small number of pilgrims. In Russia at this time, as they say, there is nowhere for the apple to fall, but here we have emptiness. What to do? Not all of a sudden. In Russia, the church system has been absorbed into the flesh and blood of the people, but the local Christians only came to church yesterday; They have faith, but the church system is completely unfamiliar and unaccustomed to them; every little detail of it needs to be learned, and having learned it, they need to accustom themselves to it. Moreover, all around them is an indifferent pagan world, living completely apart from the church, not knowing about its celebrations, going about its everyday work. A Christian has to directly strain himself so as not to follow the general example and, leaving work, go to his church. Of course, there is a lot of reason here that our preachers themselves have never seen church life with their own eyes and have not lived in the church system. They only know church doctrine, they know how to preach very well, they know that worship and so on are necessary for the church, but, since they themselves are not accustomed to the church system, they cannot teach it to others. Therefore, I have often seen that the catechist, for example, always and everywhere reads the Sunday service of the first tone, be it Sunday, the Nativity of the Virgin Mary, or a simple weekday. Obviously, he knows the need for public prayer on all these days, but he does not know that the service itself, its singing, reading, etc., all of this at the same time should serve for edification, should reveal to the believers the meaning and purpose of this prayer meeting, so that they, together with the church, could triumph spiritually, could consciously experience the entire church year with it. Of course, such indifferent worship cannot have any special attractive force: the matter comes down only to an external obligation to go to church on certain days, and external obligation is not strong for everyone and not forever. I may have gone into too much detail on this subject. What to do? This is our sore point, we have to talk and grieve about it constantly and everywhere. This is why missionaries from the old church are needed in the early stages of church life. A monastery is especially necessary: ​​free from the usual bustle of life, the inhabitants there could fully follow the church way of life, and the local Christians could learn from them with their own eyes. Even then there will be major shortcomings in the church-statutory relation (it is difficult for a layman, and even one living by day labor, not to have them), but the church system will still be more tangible. A zealot can choose a time for himself, go to a monastery, live there, pray, and then return home, and bring the church spirit there, and tell others, and instruct by his example. This is, after all, the irreplaceable, educational mission of monasteries. Raising children, caring for the sick, translating and printing books - everything that is natural and even necessary for a monastery, but all this is not a monastery in the proper sense. All this could be done by some societies established for this purpose. Do Catholics have an order of Christian Brothers that specifically devotes itself to raising children? Our Eastern, Orthodox asceticism is much deeper and broader, and therefore the service of monasteries in the church is much more important. An Orthodox Christian renounces the world and those in the world not in order to be useful to society or the church, but certainly out of zeal for the highest perfection, for the Kingdom of God. And then, of course, from it, as in the desert, a spring of living water begins to flow, with which the whole church is fed. Let us at least remember our Kyiv Lavra. The Monk Anthony lived in a cave, far from everyone, and then from the same Lavra, which sacredly preserved the behests of its founder, shepherds, and preachers, and scientists, and icon painters, etc., etc., began to emerge. If this Lavra had left the tradition of antiquity, its truly ascetic structure, and we can safely say that long ago only historical memory would have remained from it, and it would not have had such an influence on Russian life had. And so it was everywhere—this is how the conversion to Christ of all those peoples who were dissolved in the Russian people took place. He who was jealous of God settled in the wilderness, started a monastery, from which the surrounding area was then enlightened. Let us recall examples from more recent times. Take the Valaam monk Herman, for example, whose modest and childishly pure soul rises before you when reading his letters. He settled on the Aleutian Islands, without further ado he began to continue his usual monastic work “for the sake of the Kingdom of Heaven,” and who, if not this humble monk, raised the Christians there and preserved them until the arrival of the Right Reverend Innocent? If anywhere, then it is precisely in church affairs that the word of the Savior is fulfilled: “Seek first the kingdom of God, and all these things will be added to you.” Unfortunately, we can only dream or speculate about all this. There is also a suitable place for a monastery here; undoubtedly, there would be zealots from among the Japanese, but there are no those who could serve as leaders and leaders of these zealots. Without guidance, one cannot begin monasticism; in this matter, more than anywhere else, oral tradition and the influence of a living personality are necessary—a dead letter cannot lead. Some of the Japanese Christians had a tendency towards monasticism; some began to perform feats; but, of course, it ended in nothing. A lonely, inexperienced ascetic soon got tired of walking along an unknown road and turned back, and it would be good if only that was the end of the matter: the unauthorized asceticism of inexperienced people usually leads to delusion, to madness. Therefore, there is a basis for monasticism among the Japanese; leaders are needed. And the living conditions for a monk are the most suitable: in the mountains, far from everyone among foreign people, he will be alone, calm with his prayer, nothing will entertain or tempt him... Yes, but all these are just dreams for now and, God knows, when will they come true?.. I stood until the Gospel, and then with Methodius, a little man, a watchman at the missionary house, we went down to the pier. It was already dark. The windows of the church were burning brightly, and all around were trees and our quiet, sleeping church yard, far separating the place of prayer from the rest of the city and the world. I remembered the Russian desert in the forest. Will something like this ever happen on Japanese soil?.. On the ship I met an Anglican missionary, already an elderly man, with a long dark brown beard and a somewhat upturned large nose. The look is generally very modest and simple. I spoke to him. It turns out that he is also going to Sapporo for confirmation. So, fellow travelers. From the fact that he was going to confirmation, I concluded that in front of me was a bishop 5 . He confirmed my guess and called himself Bishop Faison, head of all the Anglican churches on the island of Jeso. The Anglican Mission in Japan has five bishops: each of them is completely independent from the others in the affairs of its district and bears the name of the city or region where it lives: Hokkaido (for Ezo), Tokyo, South Tokyo, Kyoto and Kiu-Siu. In the capital of Japan, as we see, there are two bishops. This comes from the fact that there are two Anglican missions here, English and American. Each of them appointed a special bishop for their Christians. Then, when they remembered that, according to the canons, two bishops cannot be installed in one city, one of them was named bishop of South Tokyo. Now, however, both of these missions act in complete solidarity, forming one church out of five dioceses. Among them, as in England, there is a noticeable division into churchmen (High Church) and Protestants (Low Church). Recently, there has been a visible advantage on the side of the former (Protestantism on Japanese soil is already becoming too liquid; it is necessary to have something more binding). So this community recently acquired a loud name for itself, which even their mother church itself does not dare to adopt. Japanese Anglicans call themselves the "Holy Japanese Catholic Church". Previously, bishops were called simply "kan-toku", an observer (the literal translation of the word "bishop"), now "shu-keo", the term used to name a bishop among Catholics and Orthodox Christians. Previously there were only presbyters, elders, and deacons, now “sisai” and “khosai” appeared - the names were again introduced into use in the Orthodox and Catholic churches to designate sacred degrees. With this, of course, the Anglicans respond to the papal encyclical about the invalidity of the Anglican hierarchy. In addition, regarding the funeral of an English or American envoy, Japanese Anglicans came to the idea of ​​the need to improve their funeral service, to introduce prayer for the dead into church use, which, of course, in itself is a big step towards catholicity. And much more like that. Our “Orthodox Messenger”, noting all these phenomena, noted with pleasure that the Japanese Anglicans are on the right path towards union with Orthodoxy, and even in this respect they were ahead of their metropolis: at the Lambeth Commission, although a desire was expressed to get closer to the East, however, such determination to correct their shortcomings was not found. Our magazine concluded quite favorably: let the amendments made by the Japanese Anglican Church be accepted and approved by all of Anglicanism in general, then we can confidently see in them the return of Anglicanism to Catholicism. And suddenly this benevolent note caused a completely unexpected rebuff from the American (Episcopal) magazine published here. Its editor very passionately began accusing our church of seeking to absorb Anglicanism, declaring that they were and would remain Protestants, and that the Lambeth Commission could only represent the opinion of those present at it, and not of all Anglicanism; if we talk about unity, then about one that provides each reunited church with complete freedom of doctrine and life within itself. Moreover, we ourselves will not pursue this unity. Let us remember that the Lambeth Commission was a meeting of almost all the Anglican bishops of the globe. The question arises, what kind of church is this in which even the meeting of all the present bishops is not considered an exponent of church teaching, obligatory for all members of this church? This is where the real trouble with Anglicanism lies. Until he throws off these truly shackles of doctrinal uncertainty, ambiguity, this hesitation between Catholicism and Protestantism, which is pleasant to the spirit of the times, until then it is difficult to talk about rapprochement with him as a church society. Individuals, even a whole class of individuals, will draw closer, perhaps even reach the point of unity with Orthodoxy, but this is only one class, one part, and it will only go towards this directly and decisively when it understands that it has nothing in common with those raging Calvinists, like Kensit, who are rampaging in English churches and who, despite this, were and remain full members of the Anglican Church. Regarding who should be the first to ask for communication or offer it, I think we would not argue much. In the high-church Church Review of December 15, 1898, one could read a description of the reception that the Eastern Orthodox bishops gave to the Anglican Church of Gibraltar, which, as you know, is in charge of all Anglican Christians scattered throughout Europe and the East. The patriarchs expressed fraternal feelings towards Anglicanism, the Metropolitan of Smyrna was present at the founding of the Anglican Church, Archbishop Patrassius ordered Orthodox priests to visit the sick and dying Anglicans and even give them holy words of encouragement. Secrets. The newspaper accompanied this message with the following note: “As for the Orthodox Church, the matter of reunification is constantly moving forward. However, we remain of the same opinion, i.e., that if any branch of the church, Orthodox or Roman, wishes to communicate with us, it itself should ask for it, and not so that we should ask for recognition on its part” (p. 797). On such principles, of course, it is difficult to ever agree. However, if Anglicanism had sincerely corrected itself, had sincerely and unhesitatingly stood on catholic soil, then he himself would have more clearly understood the need for full communion with the church, and even this one would not have considered it a humiliation for itself to be the first to extend the hand of communion to him. For the Christian world, this would undoubtedly be a great event and would have the most beneficial consequences. Now it is only a subject of prayers and very distant hopes. Of the heterodox missions, the Anglican one is the closest to us. Its worthy representatives treat us kindly, always and everywhere speak with respect about Orthodoxy and do not at all hide its truly catholic dignity before its followers. The Reverend knows almost all of their bishops personally. On important occasions in their church life, the Anglicans notify him and send him an invitation. Anglican priests, at least some of them, accept his blessing and kiss his hand. In 1897 there were 144 Anglican missionaries of both sexes in Japan, with 157 Japanese catechists (of whom 37 were ordained). All Christians of this church were 8349. Episcopalian missionaries are very well furnished financially and live comfortably. And in general, all Protestant missionaries do not at all impose a vow of voluntary poverty on themselves. It is not for nothing that a Japanese newspaper recently published a whole series of diatribes against their supposedly luxurious life, against the annual four-month vacation, against expensive dachas in various places in Japan known for their good climate. In this respect, they are in direct contrast to the Catholic missionaries, who, according to reliable stories, live on a salary that is usually given only to a Japanese preacher. However, there are ascetics among the Anglicans. For example, I had to read about the Korean Anglican Bishop Corfe. “This,” the newspaper writes, “may be the only prelate in the world who has no bed, no table, no chairs, and no furniture at all. He dines, and also writes and reads, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. He sleeps in a hanging bunk, the companion of his active and eventful life (he was previously a ship's military chaplain). His food is the simplest. There is no need to add that Dr. Korf is single. The pension which goes to his service in the navy is given annually by Korff in the form of a check to the missionary society in which he serves” (Church Review, December 8, 1898, p. 794). And among them, as we see, there are real devotees of missionary work. Bishop Faison, with whom fate brought me together on the ship, is a married man, his family lives with him in Hakodate, next to our church place. We walked around the deck with him for a long time. He briefly conveyed to me all the important news that had happened in the world while we were sitting in Nemoro. But the main subject of conversation was, of course, church affairs. He asked me about the marriages of our priests and was very surprised when I told him that a priest who had a wife and children, after being widowed, could become a monk and become a bishop. He asked if we used the Greek language when celebrating the liturgy (probably, like Catholics who use Latin). This inevitable question for Protestants about the veneration of holy icons, in the absence of which Protestants see almost the very essence of Christianity, also came up. However, our conversation was by no means a debate; we only explained to each other the teachings of our churches. The ship left only at 11 o'clock. August 27. There was thick fog at sea, and therefore the ship whistled all night, preventing anyone from sleeping. They were supposed to arrive at about six in the morning, and only at eight did they finally see through the fog the yellow, bare rocks of a high cape that hides Muroran from the sea. Its bay is quite extensive and well protected. The city is still small, but is constantly growing. Its importance increased markedly when it was connected by railway with Sapporo and all the rich interior regions of Yezo. Passenger traffic now goes almost exclusively through Muroran. Because of this, hotels, shops, artisans, etc. are growing here by leaps and bounds. With the further development of the island, the city should develop even more. The steamer did not have time to anchor properly when a whole crowd of Japanese appeared on the deck in a somewhat colorful costume: with a large white circle on the back, in which hieroglyphs were visible, with two parallel red stripes across the back and along the sleeves. These are “banto”, i.e. commission agents or hotel doormen. They quickly tell you the name of their hotel. If you want to stay, the banto receives your luggage, delivers it and takes it to the hotel, then buys you a ticket for the trip and whatever else you need. A European who does not want to compromise his habits regarding food, bed, bath and other things will find Japanese hotels uncomfortable, expensive, and hungry. But if you are content with what the Japanese get, then you can safely say that he will not experience any hardships: he will always be both well-fed and calm. They will receive you as if they were some noble traveler, and they will lay out silk futons for you for the night (it’s even awkward because you’re not used to it). Both warm and comfortable. As soon as the guest enters the room assigned to him, immediately a tea set, tea and some “kvasi” (cake) are brought. This is a treat from the hotel. In turn, the guest must add something to the owner when paying, “cha-dai”, payment for tea. Bishop and I took a boat to the shore and then walked along the shore throughout the city to the station, located just at the other end from the pier. The first train to Sapporo had already passed; we had to go on the second one at 10 o'clock in the morning. At the station I had the joy of meeting quite unexpectedly our Christian Aquila, still unknown to me. He serves as a fairly significant official in the railroad depot. No one knew that he had moved here, and none of the catechists or priests came here to inquire about the believers. Akila himself came up to me, recognizing his priest from his costume. “Are you from Surugadai?” he asked. I blessed him, told him why and where I was going, and promised to definitely visit Muroran again and find all the believers, if they were here. The bishop and I sat next to each other the whole way (seven and a half hours). He called me the stations, explained some of the surroundings, and then even fed me sandwiches from his travel supply. Not far from Sapporo, two Catholic missionaries entered our carriage, wearing their usual suit with wide-brimmed low hats. One of them was quite elderly with a long black beard, and seemed to be the elder; it was hardly even the Hakodat Bishop Berlioz. The other is still a very young man, about 27–28 years old, with a light brown small beard, glasses, and clear signs of the French type. We, of course, bowed, but there was no need to talk to them: they sat down in another compartment of the car. Catholics in Japan generally try to stay away, especially from Protestants, who are put almost on the same level as pagans. They are more tolerant towards us; during worship, for example, in addition to Catholics, only Orthodox Christians are allowed in (this, at least, happened once in Tokyo during a Catholic church celebration). This, however, did not prevent Berlioz from issuing a special message for his diocese, prohibiting Catholics from entering the Orthodox Church on our Easter and taking any part in the Orthodox holiday. The Catholic mission is the oldest in Japan. The beginning of its activity dates back to the 16th century and is associated with the name of the famous Xavier. But then the Japanese government, in response to various disorders and unrest, in which the Jesuit fathers and their first followers were largely to blame, launched a persecution against Christianity that was rare in its consistency and mercilessness. The missionaries had to flee, the Christians were either beaten or hid. There were especially many Christians hiding in the inaccessible towns of the southern island of Kiu Sioux. There they lived in separate villages, trying not to mix with the pagans, raised their children at home, and they settled them at home. They also had prayer meetings in the most hidden places. Of course, there was no one to teach them: the first Christians were baptized, as usual, hastily and without detailed training, and there were no priests. But they all understood the covenant of their fathers and kept the faith, although they knew it extremely poorly, having difficulty distinguishing the Mother of God from Kwannon. Icons could not be held openly: they were embedded in the plaster of the wall and they prayed to this wall. Sometimes Christian images were made in the manner of Buddhist ones. For example, in Japanese Buddhism, the goddess Kwannon is sometimes depicted as a woman holding a child. Nowhere except Japan is there such an image, but even in Japan its origin is mysterious. Some people think that this is actually an image of the Mother of God, which was in use among secret Christians, and then passed on to the pagans. This method of depiction had its very bad side: the children and grandchildren of secret Christians, who did not know the teachings, little by little actually identified the Mother of God with Kwannon, and the Savior with Buddha, and, jealously guarding the secret faith and icons of their fathers, they quite sincerely went to pray in Buddhist temples, where the same Kwannon and Buddhas stood, only slightly differently depicted. The government did not leave such people alone. The descendants of executed Christians up to seven generations were declared suspicious and were under police surveillance (it is said that some were under surveillance until the fall of the Shogun government in the sixties of the 19th century). Every year they had to come to a famous Buddhist temple and here give a written renunciation of Christianity. And to avoid any false testimony, the suspects were forced to immediately trample underfoot the Christian icon. Such icons cast from copper have still been preserved. They are very worn out by the feet of those who trampled on them, but especially worn out, directly by the pits, are their edges, which protruded around the icon in the form of a frame. Not having the determination to openly refuse to trample upon their shrine, Christians stood on the edges and thus avoided touching the icon itself. To the shame of Europeans, it must be said that this crafty measure was suggested to the Japanese government by Dutch Protestants. This is what religious bitterness can lead to! When Japan was again open to foreigners and Christianity, Catholic missionaries, who had been waiting for this moment for a long time (their bishop and missionaries settled on the Liu Kiu Islands as soon as the first news of the beginning negotiations between the Americans and Russians with the Japanese passed), came again and found their former Christians. Now there are many Catholics in Kiu Siu. The composition of the Catholic mission is very large. They have 4 bishops (one of them is an archbishop); all of them, with the exception of one titular one, bear the names of the Japanese cities in which their departments are located. They were established five years ago with the consent of the Japanese government (before bishops had different names). In four Catholic dioceses there are 98 missionaries, 25 monks, 88 nuns, a total of 215 Europeans. Then, there are 24 priests, 305 catechists, 2 monks, 3 novice, 27 nuns, a total of 366 Japanese. All Catholics in Japan are shown as 52,796 people. All figures are taken from official Catholic records for 1897. But it is impossible to judge with certainty the activities, success or failure, and methods of Catholic preaching. They are known to act more charitable. In their educational homes and various schools, for example, in 1897, there were 6,550 children of both sexes studying. There were 130 people cared for in the leper hospital and almshouses. But Catholics hide their activities. Nowhere has one heard of public Catholic preaching (which is a direct contrast to Protestants, one might say, who take public preaching to the point of profanation, to an irreverent game of apostleship). There is never a word in the Catholic magazine about the activities of catechists, about the trips of missionaries or bishops. It is known that Japanese priests are allowed only in Kiu-Siu from the descendants of former Christians; in all other parts of Japan, parishes are invariably run by Europeans. Their bad trait is that, having arrived in some new place, they direct their first efforts to Orthodox or Protestant Christians, forgetting that before them is a boundless sea of ​​pagans. This, of course, arouses hostility among the missions, which cannot serve to edify the pagans. The railway runs from Muroran northeast to Iwamizawa, where it branches in a star pattern in different directions. We turn sharply and head west. The surrounding area generally resembles Nemoro. The same forests, clearings, novos, the same endless plains overgrown with tall grass, the same mountains on the horizon. Small, fledgling villages disappear among untouched nature. The day was turning to evening, when, among clearings and forests, we quietly approached the capital of Hokkaido - Sapporo, a large city with forty thousand inhabitants. The entire main administration of the island and all higher educational institutions are located here. – This is also the main apartment of our father Nikolai Sakurai. At the station, some “reverend” approached the bishop, and his people were waiting for me: Father Nikolai, a catechist, several Christians, and in front of everyone was the Russian teacher Pavel Pavlovich S., who, with truly Siberian cordiality, insisted that I stay with him. Putting on a cassock and a cross, I went with Pavel Pavlovich to the church house. The church house stands on its own land, first donated by one wealthy Christian, and then bought by the joint efforts of all the local Christians. This double acquisition of the same land took place in the following way. The donor left the donated land in his name (since the church, according to Japanese law, has no property rights), and then, unfortunately, he went bankrupt, and his estate and the church house, among other things, were in danger of being sold at auction. Then the Sapporo Christians bought the place in the name of the catechist. As can be seen from this, church property in Japan is far from secured. Neither the church, nor even the foreign mission has the right to acquire real estate; it has to be acquired in the name of some private person, a Japanese. Let us assume that this figurehead is completely reliable and will not appropriate church property for himself. But anyone can die unexpectedly or go bankrupt. What then will protect church property from heirs? I myself know an example: in one village church, a zealous peasant donated land for a prayer house, and his son, after his death, invited Christians to remove this house somewhere, since now the owner needs the site. And no one, of course, could object. In the Protestant world, where there is incomparably more money than ours and where there are therefore more cases of land acquisition, such misunderstandings often occur. Recently, about a year or a little more ago, a general scandal began, which has not yet ended and has made a sensation throughout Japan and America. In the ancient capital of Japan, Kyoto, there is a college or even a university, Dooshisha. Its foundation belongs to the famous Niishima in the Japanese Christian world. He traveled around America, gave speeches there, describing his fatherland, its need for Christian enlightenment, and cried in front of his listeners. Good people were touched, and money quickly began to be collected. It was decided to establish a university in Japan where the Japanese could receive a secular education on a Christian basis. One American, Harris, donated as much as 100 thousand dollars to establish a science department, with the indispensable condition that Christianity be the basis of all teaching. And so the university was founded. The main figures were American missionaries, who encouraged Americans to donate, promoted this cause in every possible way, and then became professors at the university. Niishima also invited pagan Japanese to donate, and the sums received from them were quite large, but of course, in comparison with those abroad, insignificant. Since foreigners in Japan cannot buy land, they elected a commission of Japanese, who were officially recognized as the owners and managers of university property. While Niishima was alive, everything went well. The missionaries taught, collected donations, expanded their work, built university buildings, clinics, boarding schools for students, etc. But Nishima died, and everything changed. Little by little, misunderstandings began to arise between the American and Japanese commissions. American professors were gradually replaced by Japanese, first Christians and then pagans. The university was rapidly losing its Christian character; The goal of the donors was thus not achieved. Finally, the Japanese heads decided to take a step that was directly illegal from the point of view of the university charter. Wanting the university gymnasium to enjoy the rights of a state school, they decided to delete from the main regulations of the university the paragraph on the mandatory Christian basis of education. The Americans were outraged and protested against this; but in response they were reassured that everything remained the same, only the uniform, which was inconvenient in Japan, had changed (even if the school fully complied with the government program and even exceeded it, but if it taught anything religious, the government would not recognize such a school). The Americans, who had long been dissatisfied with the direction of teaching at the university and rightly doubted the Christian beliefs of the Japanese commission, demanded from it a direct answer to the question of whether they believed in the Holy Scriptures and in the deity of Jesus Christ. The commission refused to answer, and the Americans, shaking the dust from their feet, left the university! The Japanese saw them off with a kind invitation to live in university apartments for another two years, and then, of course, provide them with new Japanese professors. A terrible noise arose. The Americans scolded the Japanese in all the newspapers, called them swindlers, robbers and other flattering epithets, poor Harris even died of apoplexy, but all this led to nothing. Foreigners do not have property rights in Japan, and therefore cannot dispose of the property of Dooshisha, although both the government and society know very well with what funds and on what conditions this university was built. The Japanese commission cannot survive with anything from buildings that are foreign to it. Recently, however, part of the commission surrendered under the weight of public opinion and under the threat of a formal process. Then the most persistent ones resigned. Maybe the university will improve somewhat. We are, however, in Sapporo, in a wooden prayer house, European built, with a dome and a cross on the roof. It was built about five years ago at the expense of Christians, about 100 or 150 people. A simple but elegant iconostasis, very good icons, all made in Japan. In the altar, too, one can see the zeal of the parishioners: an altar cross, a seven-branched candlestick, there are vestments for the holidays, and, of course, a good funeral cover. The Japanese generally like to decorate the funerals of their relatives decently. However, there were few people, no more than 25 people, and when missionaries arrive, the churches are always lively: even those who rarely visit the house of prayer come to the prayer house. What is here in normal times? They say that times are very busy now; many people are not in the city. But my main test was still ahead. Father Nikolai, a squat, broad-shouldered man with a wide black beard, served the all-night vigil. He served well, sedately, but perhaps too loudly. Several girls, a catechist, and also Konstantin Omura, who had previously been a catechist, sang. In view of such an emergency as the arrival of a foreign “simpu” (priest), the choir decided to show all their skill, or at least all their courage. They sang the irmos in four (according to the project) voices, took out the partes “Praise the name of the Lord”, the partes “Most Honest”, etc. They did not have a regent, no one taught them to sing, only Omura somewhat remembered something from his part from the seminary. My God, what kind of singing was that! It was just somehow physically painful to listen to. But you can’t be angry: the singers, obviously, didn’t notice their cacophony, the listeners also thought that in difficult numbers they were supposed to sing like that, and there was as much zeal as they wanted. Afterwards I only said to sing more simply. At nine and a half the all-night vigil ended. I said a welcoming lesson about the Christian joy that never fails in anything about God, whose love has prepared salvation for us in Christ and always surrounds us with his protective providence, and about the need to preserve in every possible way the faith through which this eternal joy is available. It was already very late that Pavel Pavlovich and I returned to his apartment. He came here a year ago under a contract, as a teacher of the Russian language in a school founded for this purpose, and at first he suffered many different misadventures. The contract was written in the most general terms, hence immediately upon arrival there were a number of misunderstandings: the apartment turned out to be a small cell in the school building itself, with cracks, winds and other delights of an ordinary Japanese house. The increase in salary, which was only verbally promised, of course, did not follow soon. With three small children, one of whom was born here, and a sick mother in labor, poor Pavel Pavlovich had a very bad time. In winter it was cold and crowded. Moreover, food had to be cooked right there on a small iron stove, which somehow warmed the room. The smoke from the food and the smell made life even more unsightly. In imminent trouble, Pavel Pavlovich decided to seek advice and help from his natural protector - the Russian consul (this was his first time abroad). But from there he received only a stern reprimand and advice to “get away quickly, if possible, back home.” Meanwhile, his employer found out about this complaint and, in retaliation, delayed payment of his salary. This happened just before Easter, and the poor Russian family literally sat before the great holiday without a piece of bread. This is where foreign missionaries living in Sapporo provided truly Christian help: having learned about the misadventures of the Russian, they arranged a subscription and thus got him out of his difficulty. Pavel Pavlovich spoke almost with tears in his eyes about this noble act of strangers. Now his situation is better (later a real European house with a Russian stove was even built for him). We talked for a long time with him and his wife, both of them were glad of my arrival: having never been abroad, they were very bored in an unusual environment for them. August 28. In the morning, the catechist and I looked over the church statistics. Since the founding of the church in Sapporo, there have been 152 baptisms. Of these, 83 died or moved to other places, 6 were “reitan” (weakened) and 36 were unknown where and in what condition they were. This uncertainty, of course, is the fault of catechists, who must in every possible way make inquiries about Christians who have left them or come to them and must mutually notify each other. But sometimes the unknown depends on the believers themselves, who leave without telling the catechist. In some cases, this is a bad sign: a person has lost a real connection with the church, does not go to divine services, does not participate in Christian meetings, in a word - “reitan”; It is, of course, easy for such a person to leave a famous city completely unnoticed. Currently in Sapporo, with those who came from other churches, there are up to 120 believers. The church is small, but, as can be seen from the prayer house, it is very zealous. According to the priest, almost all believers go to confession and St. communion. There is a monthly "shimbokukwai" event. There is also a “circle of testers of the doctrine”; Several teachers, pupils, students, and generally intelligent people belong to it (all, of course, Orthodox Christians). They gather on Sundays in the church house, one of them sets out in detail a well-known point of doctrine, while others raise objections. An approximate dispute ensues between the testing and the confident - a dispute, for the most part lively and lengthy. Those who do not belong to the circle sit and listen, and can object on their own if they want. Such debates, of course, have some benefit in themselves: they serve to ensure a detailed assimilation of Orthodox dogma by educated Japanese. Personally, however, I don’t particularly sympathize with them: logomachiy can never instill deep faith, everything will remain only logomachiy, besides, this can lead to a lot of disagreement. It is not for nothing that the Apostle Paul forbade Timothy, and more than once, “to enter into disputes of words, which does not serve to benefit, but to upset the listeners.” Such “verbal” circles exist in other Japanese churches. At 10 o'clock the liturgy began. Father Nikolai served, and yesterday's choir sang more moderately and more harmoniously. During the sacrament, I spoke a lesson on the day's Gospel about the rich young man (every Christian has moments in life when he has to choose between Christ and his own well-being, and then avoiding self-denial will be a renunciation of Christ). After the service (there were even fewer people than yesterday: obviously they were not accustomed to worship), we talked for a while and, among other things, about the organization of a Sunday school, which is not here. The children of our Christians are in a very special position in this regard. They are baptized when they are little, when there can be no announcement and speeches. When they grow up, they begin to study in government schools, where there is not a word about God, and it’s good if Christianity is not openly ridiculed and slandered. So the child will grow up without any knowledge of the faith in which he was baptized. And here ignorance of the faith almost inevitably leads to a falling away from the church, to the loss of Christianity. Only by remembering the teaching can a Christian save himself from the sucking world of paganism. That is why we need to insist on opening a Sunday school everywhere. Not all catechists themselves come to the consciousness of its necessity, and the reason is quite clear: if he teaches a pagan, a new member will be added to the church and the efforts of the catechist will thus be revealed in the metric. The child is already included in the metric, with his training nothing will be added there, his labors will not bear any visible fruit. Of course, few literally do this, it would be very bad, but many are sincerely carried away by expanding their church, forgetting that the church is not strong with new members. That is why it happens that new Christians keep the faith more, are more zealous for the church, and know more than those who were born of Christian parents and belonged to the church from childhood. This, of course, cannot happen with Sunday school. Our Sunday school pursues precisely this goal - teaching Christian children the faith (they are sufficiently taught secular sciences in government schools). To my question about school, the catechist referred, as usual, to lack of time, although he still had nothing to do before the service. We immediately decided this issue - it is imperative to found a school; teach a catechist there, invite others to help who can do this, for example, Konstantin Omur (who is a translator and assistant teacher at Pavel Pavlovich’s school). This one readily agreed, especially since there are no classes at his school on Sundays. If they study properly, they can teach a lot in one year. The little ones are usually taught prayers (how many times do we have to remind the mothers here that the child must learn the first prayer from the mother, as is done in good Orthodox families). Next comes the Sacred History and so on. It is also extremely necessary to have something like lectures for adults, for example, for university students, who also remain outside the influence of the church. At two o'clock a "simbokuquay" was appointed in one of the Christian houses. It began to rain from midday, so much so that water simply poured from the sky in streams. The streets soon turned into some kind of dirty puddles, my feet got stuck, they slipped, and it poured mercilessly from above. But it’s impossible not to go, and it’s a shame to be late (although the Japanese themselves are remarkably careless in this regard: the appointed time is three o’clock, so wait about five). Corked up with various aprons and pendants in the cramped “dzinrikisha”, by 2 and a half I was in the indicated house. There were no Christians, and even if they came, it would still be impossible to preach sermons: the rain drummed so hard on the wooden roof that you could only listen to your neighbor with tension. It was boring to sit, time was wasted, and the Christians did not go. However, it is difficult to demand that a lot of people gather: for the women (zealous visitors to the “shimbokukway”) it was positively impossible to take a single step outside. We waited until 4 o'clock. By that time, the rain had subsided a little, about fifteen people, mostly teenagers, had gathered, and we began to “shimbokuquay.” First, of course, a prayer, with a litany for all those present, and then speeches. One young Christian woman told the life of the martyr Theodotus, and another (a guest from Masike) gave a short speech about the need to guard one’s heart; then Omura said something for a long time, followed by me (about the catacombs that I examined in Rome on my way to Japan, about the zeal of the first Christians, and so on). Afterwards I went to Father Nikolai’s apartment. The house is small, perhaps cramped for his large family (wife and four children). In general, it was very clean and tidy, like everywhere else in urban Japanese houses. In the main place there are icons, in front of them there is a liturgical table with a three-candlestick, a prayer book and the Gospel. On the walls, right up to the ceiling, various inscriptions, sayings from the Holy Scriptures or from Chinese classics are hung in frames; there is even a frame with a Russian inscription, in memory of Fr. Arseny, who visited here several years ago. Such inscriptions are as common in Japanese houses as they are in our paintings, and even more so. The pagans have more classics, our Christians have sayings from the Gospel, etc. They write with a large brush, the letters come out several inches long! Of course, handwriting and calligraphy are valued, but even more so is the name of the writer! The writings of famous people are photographed and then printed. You can still find photographs of the handwriting of Kooboo-daishi, the inventor of the Japanese alphabet. The fashion is completely original, having almost nothing corresponding in our customs. The evening was spent at Pavel Pavlovich's. Father Nikolai came, two prominent local Christians, Gregory and Alexander, came, both bear the same surname Abe, but are not relatives at all. Gregory Abe, a wealthy merchant, was baptized in Hakodate twenty-seven years ago by the Right Reverend Nicholas, then not yet a bishop. Now Gregory is the head of a large family, strictly Christian, one daughter is married to a catechist (whom we will see later), and the other to an engineer, also Orthodox. Alexander Abe is not so rich, but just as and even more zealous in his faith. He was also baptized twenty years ago. The children are all Christians, noticeably well brought up as Christians. Alexander is always the first to respond to church needs and the most willing to donate. Thanks to him, the church site was purchased and a house of worship was built. Now the idea stuck in his soul to eventually build a real church in Sapporo. This, of course, will require much more money, but it would be diligence; It is possible to raise funds, although with difficulty. It will be especially good if the church is built exclusively with Japanese money: there will always be more zeal for your own, more willingness to support it later. And our Russian men do not particularly protect and support what is free; but try to persuade the same men to build a school for themselves at their own expense: you can be sure that they will be more willing to send their children to it, and will find money to support it. It's the same here. We sat with Pavel Pavlovich for a long time, talking about various subjects. He himself does not know the Japanese language, but he treats Christians very cordially, regularly goes to worship, and sometimes donates to the church. One cannot help but rejoice at this, because example is much more effective than long sermons. Unfortunately, we rarely have to find support in the worldly people who have settled here; more often we need to protect Christians from temptation. Pavel Pavlovich's wife is acquainted with Christian women; She can’t speak either, but at least they can sit together and look at each other, and it won’t be so boring. August 29. From eight and a half o'clock in the morning until six and a half in the evening we went to the houses of Christians. We visited a total of 17 houses. They are scattered over such a huge space that I had to spend a whole day on them. In general, the impression is quite good. Especially good, of course, are the old Christians, baptized in Hakodate and who saw the first days of the Japanese church. Usually their whole family is Christian, a beautiful icon in the icon case, everyone crosses themselves well, a prayer book in a prominent place and very greasy from constant use. If you look at the box of photographs, there are almost all the former missionaries and more or less wonderful Japanese priests and catechists. It is clear that a person lives in a church. Such houses are especially dear to the local church: they are keepers of traditions, living witnesses of antiquity. Young people in Christianity at home cling to them, live by their stories, imitate them. The priest finds in them advisers and always ready support. There are several such houses in Sapporo, including both Abe. But there are, of course, disappointing phenomena: many houses are only partly Christian, which, as I noted above, is not a particularly good sign, often indicating the coldness of Christians. We were in one such house: the husband was a Christian, and the wife was an evil, despicable pagan, who, in addition, ruled over her husband. The children are not baptized, they don’t even have an icon. What are you supposed to do with such a wife? She doesn’t even let her husband go to church to pray, let alone anything else. Of course, with ardent faith, a man would not be afraid of an evil wife... In another house there is a Christian husband, who recently converted from Unitarianism, an educated man, not yet old, but already a significant official. He has icons in a prominent place in the reception room, and goes to church. The wife and children have not yet been baptized, but God willing, they will also be Christians; the wife has nothing against listening to the teaching. We went as a whole company: Father Nikolai, me, the catechist, Omura and Alexander Abe, as a Christian elder. I also had to visit a settlement outside the city where the prison is located. Two prison guards are our Orthodox Christians. One of them was at one time a catechist, but had long since left the service. To his credit, he can still be an example for ordinary Christians. It is with sadness that we have to admit that catechists who leave church service often abandon their zeal for the church, thereby causing considerable temptation and undermining the authority of catechists who continue to serve. Both houses are completely Christian. They live in government apartments near the prison itself. We saw only a high wooden fence, which did not even allow us to see the prison building. Returning from there, we met a party of prisoners, who, from a distance, were dazzling with their peculiar yellowish-pink costume. There were about ten of them, escorted by several policemen. They all walked in single file, tied to one another, stepping wearily; on their heads are wicker bell-shaped hats that completely hide their faces. An extremely sad and depressing sight! Two people walked with their hats pushed back on their heads, looking straight into the eyes of passers-by without any embarrassment; This must not be the first time they have had to make such trips. One walked as pale as a corpse, with his arms folded on his chest, only occasionally raising his big black eyes. The look is deep, suffering and hopeless... What did he do, poor thing, and what awaited him outside the walls of this prison? It is said that capital punishments are also carried out there... August 30. Again, from morning to night, they visited Christian houses. There were 14 of them, but most of them were not completely Christian. I remember the house of Isaiah Takata. The wife is a simple, seemingly downtrodden woman, a long-time Christian, the children were also baptized at birth (which means the mother is a good Christian). The husband, far from distinguished by sobriety, also listened to the teaching for a long time; Recently he even believed and asked in every possible way to baptize him, but the priest did not agree, demanding correction from him. But after much pestering and reassurance, the priest finally gave in and set a day for baptism (several people were supposed to be baptized). Takata was triumphant and happy, but he must have wanted to intensify his joy and drank. In the morning I came to church, when the baptismal ceremony was already completed, and came, moreover, not yet fully awake. Of course, the priest scolded him greatly for this and flatly refused to baptize him. But during the priest’s absence, Takata fell so ill that everyone was sure of his imminent death. The request of a dying man cannot be ignored - the catechist performed clinical baptism on him. To the surprise of everyone, Isaiah recovered quickly after his baptism and is now almost completely healthy. And he stopped drinking, and perhaps he will be completely healed mentally and physically. Obviously, he believed sincerely, but his uneducated will did not obey. He even looks like an intelligent man, with a good beard and delicate features; they say he is a skilled carpenter. Perhaps he will become a completely sober and useful person. In another house; The husband is a Christian, but has not been going to church for a long time, he is some kind of official. In the reception area, in a place of honor, hangs a small printed icon of the Mother of God. And in the next room there is a huge Buddhist goddess - an object of veneration for his wife, who is stubborn in Buddhism. The goddess now stood wide open, decorated with flowers, real and artificial, in front of her was a small table covered with Japanese brocade, laden with all kinds of offerings, here were fruits, wine, rice, bread, etc., etc. We arrived in Sapporo just in time for the Buddhist holiday “Bon,” the remembrance of the dead, which lasts several days. Household shrines stand piled high with various offerings, churches are decorated with flags and lanterns, countless candles burn in front of the altars, and the bonzes howl tirelessly, hastily reading small notes with the names of the dead given by visitors. You can hear the continuous buzz of a gong, the clink of money pouring into a wide mug - a box. There is movement around the city, people go to the graves of their relatives, everyone is carrying something in their hands to decorate the graves: flowers, candle torches, fruits. Everyone is dressed up in their best suits, no one is working, and quite a few, of course, are tipsy. The bosses run until they are tired, rushing to visit their girls, sing to them what they should, get what they should, and run to the next house. And this time we went outside the city to the village of Shiroisi (about seven versts from the city), where there is one very good Christian house. On the way there we visited a cemetery, laid out at right angles, but still overgrown with bushes and tall grass. And there the bonzes had a lot of trouble for that day: one, completely lost in the clouds of incense, was buzzing on a gong in front of the altar in the church, and several others, wrapping their wide, flowing clothes, walked from grave to grave, hurriedly chanting something, looking into space and looking for where to sing next time. There are flowers, fruits on the graves, and the peculiar smell of smoking Buddhist candles in the air. Christian graves are scattered among the pagan ones, five or three in a row. There are crosses above all. It’s only strange to see Buddhist candles and other pagan offerings on some graves: it was the pagan relatives who were zealous. Perhaps they invited the bonze here too, no one can interfere, and the bonze himself is unlikely to refuse: it would not be particularly polite of him to announce to his parishioner that his Christian relative has now turned into a pig or something even worse, and therefore it is not worth praying for him. This, moreover, could not be beneficial for the boss. Walking through the city, we saw houses of worship of heterodox missions. Catholics are still huddled in a very modest house. Two French priests live here permanently in the city, the other two travel around the area. But they don’t have very many converts, at least not more than we do. We saw a good American Presbyterian church with a rooster on a spitz instead of a cross; they are popularly called the “church of cocks” (that’s how stupid the fear of sacred images can lead to). However, Mr. Pearson and his wife, the managers of this church, are very worthy people who took care of our fellow countrymen with remarkable kindness. The Anglicans have a small “quaidoo,” but they say they don’t regularly gather for prayer there—there are almost no Japanese believers (what, one might ask, was it built for?). They have an Ainos mission here, which is headed by its organizer, Mr. Bacheler, who compiled the Ainos grammar and made many translations into this primitive language. We saw his house from the outside, the Ainu gather there, there is a special shelter for them, a school for children, etc. The bishop from Hakodate must have come for this church. In former times, the independent Japanese church, the so-called “Christ’s Church in Japan,” was especially strong here. It's something like Methodism, Presbyterianism, and the rest, all put together. It was founded among students in one of the schools that were led by missionaries. The disciples gathered on Sundays for prayer, one of them replaced the pastor for general prayer and the last blessing before leaving, someone preached. At first it was something very close to a children's game, and then, when the improvisers finished the course, they continued to communicate with each other, still gathered for prayer, someone still replaced the pastor, etc. This church then grew so much that it eclipsed the others. But now she, too, has somehow withered away. The zealous donors and even the founders themselves gradually lost faith: from the former liberal Christians, who could hardly hold on to anything in Christianity, they turned into real agnostics, having more in common with philosophical Buddhism than with Christianity. However, there are still believers in this church, but they drag out some kind of uncertain existence, without real leaders. In addition to those mentioned, there are several more Protestant churches of various shades. In the evening, two students of the Agricultural Institute (higher educational institution) sat for a long time. One is Orthodox from a good local Christian family, and the other is a pagan, but has heard a lot about Christianity and almost regularly listened to Protestant preachers. I spoke to him about faith, trying in particular to draw his attention to the fact that Christianity is not a philosophy, not a guess of the searching human mind, but reality, a tangible historical fact in which one must believe and live by it. The listener sat with his head politely bowed, but hardly anything sunk into his soul. He is still too young to think seriously, and yet he is extremely captivated by the external appearance of civilization and the material side of his future life. And our students are somehow childishly frivolous in eternal questions, and the people here are even more so: Buddhism in its real form can only make them laugh, in the bosses they see only not entirely clean liars who can talk old women into words - children's Shintoism, although it is inflated into a national religion and is hidden behind the charm of patriotism, of course, can even less testify in favor of religion. Involuntarily, the young man abandoned; sits all these eternal questions and will look only where some worldly, everyday benefit awaits him. August 31st. At eight o'clock in the morning, having said goodbye to our hospitable hosts, Fr. Nicholas set off from Sapporo to the east. The ride was not far, only 40 minutes by rail, to Yebetsu station. Before we had time to get off the platform and hand over our tickets, three peasants approached us, all young, with nice, simple faces. Bending low, they accepted the blessing from both of us. These were Christians from the town of Poromun (or Horomuy, as the Japanese pronounce this Ainos name), where we headed. They brought horses for us, and also got saddles: for me it was English, but Father Nikolai had to stand on a cargo saddle, rising like a pyramid above the horse. This saddle, however, was not without conveniences; sitting on it is peaceful, you can even hang your legs over the horse’s neck. One problem: you can fall quite high from such a saddle, and there is little stability in it. Vasily, Nikita and their third comrade bought various treats at the store in view of our arrival and walked the entire distance (about 11 miles), showing us the way, and on occasion, urging the horses when the latter for some reason considered it unnecessary for themselves to obey us. The road continues to be a plain, extremely swampy, overgrown with tall grass, sometimes even the rider is completely hidden in this grass. We drove, of course, at a walk, talking with our drivers, especially Vasily, without tiring, telling the simp everything that had happened wonderfully. Every now and then the horses stumbled into a hole or got stuck in a quagmire; then our drivers somehow strangely, like seagulls, shouted: “Ah... ah...”, encouraging them. Fr. took part in this unique concert. Nikolai, only his “a” hummed with a perfect “u” on low notes. "Ah...ah.." - Vasily and Nikita will shout. “U... uh..”. - Father Nikolai responds behind me: and so we drove all the way to the Christian houses. To drain the swamp, ditches have been dug in many places; there is even a whole canal along which small barges with cargo sail. Obviously, every inch of dry land is not given to the local farmer in vain. We drove along, almost sailed through the swamps through the forest and then soon turned onto a dirt road between arable fields. Every now and then we began to come across some hastily built huts of settlers, thatched roofs, thatched walls, a haphazardly built yard. But everywhere there are already devices for artificial irrigation. Corn and buckwheat grow, but I have never seen millet like this anywhere: it is almost as tall as corn. We were already driving through the village of Poromuy, although if you’re unaccustomed to it, you might not be able to see it: the houses are scattered without any order on separate plots of land, the only reports there are of a country road that meanders along the boundaries. At one of the bends in the road there is a small area. There is a Buddhist chapel on it, completely toy-like, miniature, with long flags fluttering on tall poles on its sides. There was a meeting here recently. A bonza came from Sapporo and preached sermons for several days in a row. The reason was the same “bon”. Soon we came to the house of Christian Evgeniy Sabanai. It also stands as a separate courtyard on its own site: several huts, storerooms, and sheds for livestock have gathered together into a farmstead with an unchanged well, a pond and a flower garden. All this is also temporary in nature, all this was built only for the first time, in order to somehow protect ourselves from bad weather and cold until the earth rewards the costs and labor. We were immediately met by the entire multi-member family of Evgeniy, there were bows and greetings, although not yet in full form, but only in this way, in advance - the main thing - in the "zasiki", in the front room, where we were immediately taken. The room was covered with the best “goza” (mats), woven from multi-colored straw in the most intricate patterns. Such “goza” are not available in Hokkaido; they were taken from old Japan and placed only for today’s special occasion. In front, in a beautiful icon case, is a large icon of the Mother of God, painted in oil paints, obviously ordered at his own expense. The entire wall has a shelf with spiritual books; there are almost all the publications of our mission, in addition, there are quite a few Protestant ones. From everything you can see that the house is good. Soon Eugene himself, a venerable old man, still quite cheerful in appearance, arrived in “haori” (ceremonial clothes); after him, one after another, everyone who was in the house came up to the blessing. They sent for the rest immediately. Eugene is a kind of local patriarch: of the eight Christian houses that currently exist in Poromuy, six are either sons-in-law or children of Eugene, the seventh is his younger brother and only the eighth is not a relative, although he is a fellow countryman. They all moved here from the old church of Wakuya (in the north-eastern part of the main island, where our churches are most densely located) and occupied lands not far from one another. Evgeniy himself is now “inkyo”, i.e. in retirement, his son Irenaeus, who is already quite an old man with grandchildren, manages the household and other things. Eugene is only the spiritual head of this small church. Constantly checking out books and diligently reading them, he knows the teaching very well and is zealous to spread it among his fellow villagers and, in general, everyone with whom he makes acquaintance. That’s what they call him here, a Christian bonzo – a name he doesn’t think he should be ashamed of. On Sundays and holidays (when work in the field is not too oppressive) all Christians gather in this house; the old man performs worship and speaks a sermon, just like the biblical patriarch. Father Nikolai thought about appointing him as an assistant catechist officially, that is, with a salary, but before the cathedral Evgeniy fell ill and thought that he would no longer recover and would not be able to serve the church. Now he is healthy again, maybe his appointment will take place. There are listeners here; many of the settlers are former fellow countrymen of Evgeniy, he knows them all well and therefore can influence them. The catechist of Sapporo, under whose jurisdiction Poromuy has hitherto been, comes here infrequently and does not live long: his efforts (even if there are any) cannot bear any noticeable fruits. The priest is also rare, last year there wasn’t even one at all: Poromuy is not far from Sapporo, but the path here is difficult and not always even possible. Soon all the Christians gathered (there were 23 of them with children), except for the second son-in-law, Ignatius, a leper, who was therefore embarrassed to come to the meeting. Since it was already past noon, I began to serve Vespers. The three women sang beautifully and never went out of tune. One of them completed a course at our Tokyo diocesan school, and the other two learned singing in Wakuya (where Evgeniy also worked hard in the church). Vasily, married to the granddaughter of Evgeniy (he was our driver), a young man of 24 years old, exemplarily read what was needed at Vespers, knew when to serve the censer, etc. It was a pleasure to look at this small but well-mannered church. According to Father Nicholas, all of them, without exception, partake of St. Tain, if only the priest would come to them. Vasily, apparently, is a direct assistant to his grandfather in all church affairs, and also zealously cares about the conversion of others. After the service, when we all sat down near the large “hibatsi” and started a general conversation, Vasily, sitting next to his grandfather and nannying his three-year-old son (Evgeniy’s great-grandson), especially diligently begged “Simpa” Nikolai to come here more often and, at least, force the Sapporo “sensei” (catechist) to come here. After Vespers, I gave a sermon on our duty to keep the vow we made at baptism and to tirelessly strive for the honor of the highest calling. In the meeting there were also two sons-in-law of Eugene, still pagans. He especially complained about one of them, who did not give in to any admonitions - they even thought that he would not come to see us at all. The son-in-law sat gloomily with his head down, but then joined the conversation. Obviously, he is entangled in various village superstitions, signs, beliefs, he would be glad to listen to Christianity, but he is afraid that because of this the land will stop bringing him crops, that various “inari-san” will take revenge on him by killing livestock or something else. The horizon is too small and material; man does not want to take his eyes off the earth that feeds him. However, this man recently took Sabanai’s daughter; Perhaps, under the influence of this deeply Christian home, he will come to Christ. We were treated to lunch, prepared, of course, at home, simply, but very tasty and, most importantly, with sincere cordiality. In front of each person there is a small table - a tray, and on it two lacquered cups with excellent Japanese soups, fried fish, raw fish, salted radish, something sweet, and you can’t list everything. All this is put in front of you at once, you can be accepted from any end without any menu, there are no laws for this. One of the hosts (the others all leave: this is the rule of decency) sits nearby with a large round bowl filled with steaming hot rice, which for the Japanese constitutes lunch in the proper sense - everything else is just a seasoning or snack. Each guest holds a small bowl of rice in his left hand; having emptied one, he hands it to the host for filling, the other is followed by a third, etc., according to the strength and ability of each; in the right hand there are thin “hashi”, chopsticks, with which rice and everything placed on the tray are directed into the mouth. Of course, you need considerable dexterity to grab what you need with chopsticks and carry it into your mouth and nowhere else. To do this, a cup of rice is brought to the mouth, and the soup is drunk directly, while sipping loudly. If there is wine, it is certainly served before the meal, with only “sakana” (literally, fish - but here it generally means a cold appetizer). You can eat soup, but not rice: if rice is served, the wine is removed. We sat for another hour after dinner, talking with our hosts about various subjects. The old man gave Father Nikolai instructions to order books that he did not yet have, ordered prayer books for his numerous relatives, an icon for Vasily, who had just separated, etc. It is also necessary to send them the Book of Hours with the Octoechos, otherwise they are performing divine services according to some old notes, somehow written by Vasily upon leaving Vakui. No matter how sorry it was to leave these good people, no matter how much they and we wanted to stay even longer, we had to go, and we set off back to Ebetsa in three and a half hours, accompanied by the same Nikita and Vasily. We had to take another roundabout road: the rain that drizzled while we were in the house made the previous road impassable. From this you can understand what kind of message is in this ill-fated place. We barely made it to the train, which went further to the east. It was only thanks to the fact that the train was late, as usual, that we managed to jump into the carriage. However, some banto also helped us. He came up to me and, bowing, asked: “Will you be a simpu?” - “Yes, simpu.” He accepted the blessing and hastily grabbed my suitcase and carried it into the carriage. “What about your “sei-na” (the holy name, that is, given in baptism)? Francis?" - Well, they say, you were mistaken, I am an Orthodox priest, not a Catholic. The suitcase, however, had already been brought in... Before I had time to properly say goodbye and bless our guides, the train started moving. Forty minutes later - Iwamizawa, where we stopped for the night, dragging our luggage through the dark streets to a rather remote hotel. In Iwamizawa there are two of our Christian houses: Yakov Koshiyama and Sato. The father of the first was at one time a catechist, but died 17 years ago; the younger brother is studying at the seminary. Unfortunately, Yakov’s entire family (mother, wife and daughter) for some reason left for Sapporo, and Father Nikolai did not yet know Sato’s address, since he had moved here not very long ago. Both of these families were baptized in old Japan, perhaps a church will be formed around them here over time. Iwamizawa is a fairly decent city, according to Ezo, with up to 1000 houses, but it is still growing. Here is a junction of railways that radiate throughout open Hokkaido. September 1st. In the morning Yakov came, talked for half an hour and left for his post: he serves in the mechanical department at the local station. He promised to ask carefully about Sato’s address so that Father Nikolai could easily find him next time. As you can see, here sometimes you have to literally look for wandering sheep. Some people are good Christians, but either they don’t think to inform the local priest about themselves, or, which is rare, they don’t really know whose parish the city in which they settled belongs to. And now he lives without a priest. From this, his faith and habit of church may gradually cool. The surrounding pagan environment has a remarkable suction power, because this environment is native to a Christian by nationality and the whole past: it is difficult for one to resist it. There is also a danger in such alienation, which is probably unique to the Japanese church. Baptism here is performed exclusively by priests and only in mortal danger is a catechist and a Christian in general allowed to baptize (the former, however, is allowed to perform the catechumen). Our Christians have taken this literally. Therefore, if one of them lives in the wilderness, where the priest never looks, children will be born to him, grow, become big, but are never exposed to a deadly disease. So they remain unbaptized. And since a child, especially an adult, has not yet been baptized, they look at him as a pagan and do not even teach him how to pray. Next comes the pagan government school. Afterwards it can be very difficult with such children; if the parents die, then the children remain completely in paganism. Therefore, priests are encouraged to never forget this main duty, for which Christ came to earth. At 9 o'clock in the morning we left along a small branch into the mountains, to the Poronaibuto station. This branch was made for the transportation of coal, rich deposits of which are being developed not far from the mentioned station. We drove through a wide green valley, to the right were mountains covered with dense, slightly yellowing forest, to the left was a river meandering along its uneven bed, behind it were green meadows, and then again forest and mountains. Approaching the station, from a distance we noticed a small group of women and children in festive costumes. These were our Christian women who came to meet us. With them was the catechist Polycarp Ishii, who had moved to this church a month ago. After the first greetings and blessings, the whole crowd went to church. It was necessary to go across the river to the opposite edge of the valley, where, about two versts from the station, large wooden buildings and the same high wall of a government prison stood gray along the mountainside, and under it the village of Itsikisiri stretched out in one order. This village is relatively small, only 200 houses, and is occupied mostly by employees in the prison and generally having something to do with it. In addition, up to 150 families of prison guards live in special barracks or barracks. There are seven Orthodox houses here, and six of them belong to the wardens (including two single men who live in a dormitory at another prison one “ri” away from here). Our church house cannot impress with its appearance: in a long barracks (“nagai”, in Japanese) a room was rented that was intended for a shop. Of course, this is extremely inconvenient and unrepresentative, but there are almost no other houses here, the building is a prison; It is too early to build a special “quaidoo” for this small church: five families and two single people, with their modest maintenance, are not able to undertake such a construction. In a small room there are several icons hanging, in front of them is a liturgical table with a homemade wooden three-candlestick. That's all the decoration. The catechist lives in the same room with his young wife (daughter of Gregory Abe of Sapporo) and child. I served mass. The catechist and his wife sang, and then some of those present began to join in. About 12-13 people gathered with the children, all women and three men were present, only the old and deaf “obaasan”, the mother of one of the overseers, and everyone who was detained by the service (all Christians here without the catechist family - 19 people) did not come. There are only two school-age children here, boys, and they recently came here with their father, Aaron Ono. There is also a girl Olga, daughter of the pagans; She had heard a lot about Christ from the local Christian women and began to earnestly ask her parents to allow her to be a Christian. Her parents finally allowed her, and the girl, having heard the announcement, now became a Christian. Only she had not yet been confirmed: when everything was ready for baptism and everyone who was to be baptized had gathered, the girl suddenly had either a seizure or fainting. Father Nikolai hastened to teach her only the baptism of the sick, but for some reason did not intend to anoint her. Now Olga regularly goes to church, she also has an icon at home, I am a prayer book. God willing, she will be a good Christian, and she will also bring her parents to Christ - there are many such examples in the history of the mission. I spoke a welcoming teaching for the day’s Gospel (Matthew 12:48–50), about the greatest happiness for Christians to be close to God. After the sermon, there was a simple conversation about mothers raising their children, about teaching them to pray from the very first moments of their more or less conscious life, and they talked about “shimbokukwai.” However, it is impossible to gather “shimbokukwai” here regularly: the male half of the population is on duty from three o’clock in the morning until the evening, only very rarely they have a free day, but then they get together and talk without any simbokukwai. The church truly lives as one family, which is greatly facilitated by the similarity of their service and age. They are all 25–30 years old, almost all overseers, living in government barracks behind a common wall. There is always an opportunity to see each other and talk, but Christians always establish closer relationships among pagans. More women go to church, but this cannot be demanded of men, since the service does not allow exceptions. Metrics have not yet been established here, although there have already been 15 baptisms, which were recorded in the priest’s notebook. Of these 15, seven people died or migrated, and one completely weakened, they even say that he again converted to Buddhism and became an idolater. He was a worker at Alexander Abe's forge, and then he was baptized; they must have taught him inattentively, and he was baptized more out of a desire to please the owner. Of course, if he had ended up in a Christian home, he would still have been in church and would have gradually become stronger in Christianity, but he could not resist the world alone. There are 19 people in all who came, but if we count the catechist’s family, then 22. Among our Christian acquaintances and colleagues there are those who want to listen to the teaching. God willing, over time they will come to this community. Having finished our belated lunch at the hotel where we were staying, we decided to go to Poronai, to the coal mines, we have two Christians there. There is a railway leading there, but the train had already left (the only one of the day), and so we had to walk; The distance from Itsikisiri is six versts, all uphill. Walking through the city, we saw a small wooden kwaidoo painted white of the so-called “Christ Church” (an independent Japanese one, which is also in Sapporo). The house is very nice, spacious, and looks like it can accommodate 50 people or more. But now there are no meetings, and it stands empty; there are even plans to house a government school in it. In general, heterodoxy is somehow unlucky in Itsikisiri: there are only a few believers: a Catholic, several Protestants of different confessions, to whom their pastors or priests come from time to time. We walked to the station, and then along the railway line we headed through a rather narrow gorge covered with forest. You need to go one ri to “si-gai” - a village or city, which was given the name Poronai. In a gorge, squeezed on all sides by high and steep mountains, there are some smoky barracks, black with soot; they must have been just warehouses for coal, and now they have been turned into barracks for workers. We pass by and through the dug-out mountain we enter another part of the city, where the mines in the proper sense are located. There, along the steep cliffs, huge coal sheds are piled one on top of the other, and rails for hand wagons are laid in different directions. We walk past a blackened freight station - a loading point for mined coal. All around in the mountains you can see gaping holes of trial or already mined mines - covered passages with rails. Further along the mountain, in terrible cramped conditions and mud, workers' huts have been put together haphazardly. The streets are crooked, narrow, littered with all sorts of rubbish. Small braziers are smoking right there, on which the ragged wives of the workers are cooking lunch. Coal dust, settling in a thick layer on everything, gives everything an even more gloomy and dirty look. And the workers are celebrating their “bon”; discordant songs and the non-musical strumming of the shamusen can be heard from the crooked shacks; along the streets are half-naked figures of drunks with red faces and bulging eyes. Here's a hangout! It felt somehow bad in my soul at the sight of such extreme animalism to which daily oppressive need and hopeless labor in order not to die can bring a person.” In one of these houses, but only slightly larger, lives our Christian, Pavel Okaty. Here he has a public bath and a shop, perhaps the only one in the city. Constant crowd, regular visitors. Some guy must have been sleeping in the waiting room after a bath - the suspicious redness of his face gave reason to think that he would not wake up easily, and that having woken up, he would not soon come to his senses. In his old days, Paul was a good Christian and even a “gi-yuu”, an elder or elder in one of the Tokyo churches. It’s been 12–13 years since I moved here and now, alas, apparently I’m in Reitan. His wife quarreled with him and left him (and then died). He took another, a pagan, with whom he already has five children, the eldest girl is about 11 years old, and all of them have not been baptized. I asked why I had not yet baptized my children. He says there was no time to go to Sapporo or Itsikishiri, when there is “shimpu” there, you can’t leave the shop or the bathhouse: people come constantly, but there are no outside servants; There is no place to christen here. For such a thing, it would be better to baptize the children yourself than to leave them unbaptized due to lack of time to go to the priest. However, if there were only faith and diligence, lack of time cannot serve as an obstacle: a person is busy only with his trade, and not with any social duties. As could have been predicted in advance, our conversation with the owner could not be particularly smooth; he was embarrassed, and I felt unwell. Strange as it may seem to say this, it would be better for his children to get sick: then the father himself would baptize them, and having become Christians, they would be closer to the church, would be more willing to come to prayer, would get along with Christian children, and thus would still have Christian influence on themselves. Paul firmly promised to send all his children to church next time and prepare them for baptism, and Father Nikolai promised to visit Paul regularly and send a catechist from Itsikisiri to pronounce the eldest girl, and perhaps the wife herself. We were somewhat consoled by the arrival of another Christian living here and working in the mines. He is still a young man, alone, which is why he lives in a common room with other workers. He was baptized several years ago in Akita, the most Japanese province. As far as can be judged from our brief acquaintance with him, he is a humble, sober and good Christian man, although he does not shine with learning. He does not hide his Christianity to anyone, therefore, he believes and is not afraid. We gave him an icon. We will instruct the catechist to constantly visit him and support his faith: in such a terrible environment as the one here, in the mines, it is especially dangerous to leave ordinary Christians without constant guidance and visits. God willing, Paul’s children will be baptized, then a small community will be formed here, and frequent visits to the catechist will perhaps attract someone else from the surrounding world to Christ. Having said goodbye to our Christians, who had gone far to see us off, we set out on the way back. Matthew also lives in these same mines, having now abandoned Christianity 7 . With the help of Paul and another Christian, Father Nicholas and the catechist will try to find him; God willing, it will still be possible to return him to faith: a person experienced something while being baptized, it cannot be that this did not leave a memory in his soul. We returned to Itsikisiri at about seven in the evening, when it got dark. The men were now free. Taking off their paramilitary uniforms, they met us in groups of twos and threes on the street and walked together to our hotel. Then two single Christians came there, both Peters, who live near another prison, not far from here. Having been at work all day, they were supposed to be back in place by three o'clock tomorrow morning, but for the sake of a rare occasion they decided to sacrifice the peace of the night. After dinner we went to the houses of Christians. Although it was late, and everyone with us was tired and wanted to sleep, we couldn’t choose a more suitable time: during the day, all the men were at work. One Christian house is located in the village: a simple Christian woman, whose husband is still a pagan (now he is somewhere very far away, almost on Formosa), they have two small children. The mother begged her husband to allow them to be raised Christianly, and now she has received this permission; next time the little ones will be baptized. After sitting with her for a while (there was a whole crowd of us: me, Father Nikolai, the catechist, two single Christians who wanted to spend more time with us, someone else from here), we went to the prison, or, more precisely, to the threshold of the prison. A huge courtyard behind a high fence, with identical barracks built along regular streets, into which the apartments of 150 family overseers are distributed. A military trumpet wakes them all up for duty, they sound the dawn in due time, and in general they live in a semi-martial state. Our four families are placed among others, not together, but in constant communication with each other. We began to move from barracks to barracks, from family to family. Everywhere a simple meal was prepared, the owners were dressed up, and they were expecting our visit. Having visited one family, we went to the apartment of another, and the owner of the previous one himself went with us, so that almost the entire male half of this church gathered in the last apartment, and several of their acquaintances also came, already interested in the teaching. It was late, something like twelve o'clock, Aaron Ono's guys (this last meeting took place in his apartment) were irreparably asleep and did not wake up. And everyone wanted to talk. They talked about faith, about their morally difficult service, they asked about some church customs and teachings. Only after midnight our conversation stopped, and we somehow made our way to our hotel in the rain. Both single Peters saw us off, and in the darkness of the night they walked through the mud and rain to their home. September 2. The rain fell relentlessly, but despite it, our Christian women all came to accompany us to the station. We went first to Iwamizawa and then took a train south to Muroran. Halfway through the journey at Oiwaki Station we stopped to visit the Christians living there, namely Kudoo's house. The family consists of three people: a husband, a wife and a boy – a son. Moses himself is a carpenter and is constantly absent. The wife is a very zealous Christian, invariably taking communion every year and raising her son Gabriel in a Christian way. We sat with her for a long time, passing the time until the next train. One local young girl was baptized in Otaru by her son-in-law, a Christian. Now her parents, stubborn pagans, oppress her in every possible way - she only devotes her soul to Kudoo’s house and prays. We sent a neighbor girl to notify her, and soon she came running, happily sat with us and talked. I persuaded Father Nikolai to confess and join in on his next visit, and complained about the restrictions on her faith at home. There is, however, hope that she will soon get married and again in Otaru, where her faith will no longer be constrained. According to our information, there should also be a Christian woman here who recently moved here with her pagan husband. According to various signs, they managed to find her, and she also came to Kudoo’s house. Thus, all the local Christian women have become acquainted with each other, and the good influence of Kudoo herself can have a beneficial effect on the other two. The newcomer is the daughter of a certain Saito, a Christian from Otaru, who for many years was a servant and cook in Hakodate for Russian missionaries. Therefore, she was accustomed to church from an early age and knows all church customs well. Then we all went to her apartment; quite clean and tidy rooms, the husband is a Buddhist, and, apparently, zealous, because he keeps idols in the house. This, however, is better than unbelief or indifference, closer to the knowledge of Christ. However, this Buddhist does not make any restrictions on his wife; she has both an icon and a prayer book, but she kept it all behind a screen. A good woman, a believer; Perhaps over time it will influence her husband, especially if she introduces him to a catechist or priest. In parting, I advised Christian women to gather together on Sundays and pray as best they could; at least they just read the usual prayers and the daily Gospel. This will bring them closer and strengthen their faith. At the station we met Titus Yamada, a very good Christian, now living in Muroran. He serves as a conductor and was now traveling with the train to Sapporo, and will send a telegram to Muroran for his wife to meet us at the station; he asked me to stay with him for the night. We left. It began to rain and poured continuously. At seven and a half we were at the Muroran station, strangely illuminated by the lanterns of countless “bantos” who had come to invite passengers to their hotel. Our Nina and her three boys were also there with a lantern. We walked, getting stuck in the sticky mud and scooping up water with our thin boots. It's good that we only had to walk for about five minutes. Titus's government apartment was located in a railway building near the station. There was still no church in the proper sense in Murorana. It was known that several Christians lived there, and there might have been others unknown besides them, but priests or catechists never came to this city to preach, although heterodox preaching has been here for a long time. At the last council, Father Nicholas urgently raised the issue of this promising place. The city is growing, people from all sides are gathering in it, and among them there are certainly Christians. It is necessary to have a church here: after seeing the sign, the Orthodox will come and, thus, will not lose touch with the church. In addition, there will definitely be new listeners. Titus Yamada, who lives here, especially asked for this. He wants to see a church here. For his part, he is ready to provide any assistance, at first he will give the catechist room in his house, as long as he comes. Therefore, the council decided, due to the lack of catechists, to entrust Muroran to Polycarp Ishii, a catechist in Itsikisiri. He will have to come here regularly and live here for a certain period of time. Father Nikolai and I came this time to get acquainted with the state of affairs and finally resolve the matter about the catechist. Nina treated us to dinner, prepared by herself. She herself poured rice into our cups, talking about various subjects. Nina is as sincere a Christian as Titus himself: it is good to gather a church around them - they can unite others. In the room in the front corner hang (this purely Russian custom took root especially in Hakodate, and from there throughout all the churches of Hokkaido) several chromolithographic icons, the kind usually given out at baptism, they are placed in frames on a small shelf, just like in a Russian house. Taking a closer look, I noticed in front of the icons, in addition to the candlestick, there was something else, some kind of cup, which, according to research, turned out to contain some rice. “What is this?” - “Yes, I would like to do something to serve the icons.” Poor Nina was extremely embarrassed when I explained to her that there was no need to put this in front of the icons, that this was a pagan custom. It’s better, they say, to decorate the icon according to your means, and on the holiday light a lamp in front of it, your heart will be light on the holiday... Don’t judge us, reader, with our weaknesses. Nina simply did not know Christian customs, but she has zeal. They live separately from other Christians; there is no one to teach or suggest when something is wrong. It was cramped for two people to spend the night in Titus’s apartment, and nothing suitable was prepared. Therefore, Father Nikolai stayed here, and I went through the puddles to look for shelter somewhere in a hotel. Nina walked ahead with a lantern and shining it. We went to the first hotel that I knew and they refused. We continue swimming through the mud. In the next, the front rooms stood wide open, several “butsudan” (Buddhist shrines; if you close their doors, they strongly resemble fireproof boxes) were placed in a row along the front wall; in front of them were whole lines of lit candles, various offerings. Guests in formal dress could be seen in the rooms. Something very solemn, almost a divine service, was taking place, although two of those present right there in front of the “butsudan” were calmly playing Japanese checkers. Later we learned that a child had died in this house, which is why there was such a liturgical decoration (the deceased was already buried). It was impossible to stop here either; we had to go even further. Only in the third hotel was there a free room in which I, wet and tired, found peace. September 3. In the morning at 9 o'clock Father Nikolai came and brought Christian Hashimoto, who had been living here for a long time. We went to his house. He is engaged in the production of “tofu” (a type of pea jelly or a kind of jelly), a trade that is not particularly profitable and, it seems, not particularly revered. Recently, poor Hashimoto was burned and now, having somehow put together his own house, he is very poor. His wife Irina, busy preparing “tofu,” greeted us somehow surly, accepted the blessing and immediately went off to her work. When I told her about prayer, about the need to raise children in Christianity, she somehow indifferently looked to the side or at the floor, obviously thinking only about how to quickly end this unpleasant conversation. Well, I thought, a perfect “reitan”, she has lost the habit of church and has completely cooled off to the faith. Later I found out that in her hometown she was put on trial for gambling (she must have been running a den) and spent some time in prison. Out of shame, she and her husband fled from their homeland and settled in Mororan, where no one knew her past. Their two children also lost the habit of church and “simpu”, they were terribly shy and did not want to come up for the blessing. The youngest son, about four years old, had not yet been baptized. Hashimoto himself was apparently ashamed of his family and willingly listened to our instructions on what to do. He himself certainly did not lose faith. In his small room, open from the street, therefore, in front of the eyes of everyone passing by, hangs a large icon in a good gilded icon case, the likes of which are rarely seen in Japanese houses. For many years, a Protestant preacher lived in Hashimoto’s neighborhood, who, of course, could not help but notice Hashimoto’s faith and hung around this lonely, abandoned Christian of the Orthodox Church in every possible way. However, Hashimoto did not succumb to temptation, although for him, perhaps, it would have been far from unprofitable to convert to Protestantism. There is, therefore, faith - only misfortune with his wife led them both astray and weakened their moral energy. They need encouragement and support. Hashimoto then accompanied us to the house of the hairdresser Ku-doo. His name is John, he is a man of about thirty, he studied at our Hakodat school as a child and constantly went to worship, even served at the altar. Therefore, he knows perfectly well everything church, all the catechists who were then, that is, ten years ago. Since then he left here and had no connection with the church. Judging by his conversations, methods, etc., by the fact that he was not at all frightened or embarrassed when we came to his shop and then sat in it for a long time in front of everyone talking, it was impossible to notice anything “reitan” in him (may the reader forgive me this peculiar term of ours), and yet his pagan wife and children were not baptized. From him we learned the address of Akila Sakai (who I met at the station). He lives outside the city, in a special village formed from railway buildings. We didn’t find him at home; we were received by his wife, still a young woman who knew our girls’ school and everyone related to it very well. At one time, Akila served in Tokyo and lived for a long time near Surugadai. Then his wife was announced, but childbirth prevented baptism, and then an order was issued to transfer Akila here. So the wife remained unbaptized. Four children were also not baptized. With the founding of a church here, God willing, this can be corrected. In the evening at seven o'clock in the house of Titus Yamada the first Christian meeting and divine service in this city was scheduled; by the way, the next day was Sunday. All the men came (Hashimoto, John Kudoo and Aquila), Hashimoto’s wife, as I expected, did not come (however, it was difficult for them to leave their unlocked house empty). After seven and a half, Titus himself came back from the train, a man of about forty or so, decisive in appearance, with quick manners and speech. Having greeted him, we, without wasting any time, began to pray. I served, Titus sang, and so well that I was sincerely surprised. It turns out that he previously lived in Sapporo, where he was baptized; there he was a “gi-yuu” (church elder), assigned to the catechist, learned to sing and constantly took part in the church choir. Now every year, after taking the children, he and his wife go to Sapporo for Christmas and Easter to pray in church. This alone can testify to the Christian zeal of this family. John Kudoo, recalling his school years, regularly served the censer, even kissing his hand at the same time - a custom that Christians know only if they are very accustomed to the church. The service went on without reading, with only singing, as at Easter, but this happened simply because we had nothing with us except a notebook and a service book. Then, without taking off my vestments, I addressed those ahead with a little teaching. I congratulated them on the start of church services in Murorana and urged them to firmly hold the church here, because the future success of our faith here depends on them. The apostle appointed for tomorrow could not have been more suitable for our case. “Keep watch, stand firm in the faith, be of good courage.” Nothing more appropriate could be said to this small, barely active church, whose members were still half-asleeply dragging out their Christian existence away from their fellow believers and the church, who even now needed to protect themselves in every possible way from temptations and be the salt of the world in this new place. After the service and sermon, we, as usual, sat in a tight circle near the hibazi, sipped lukewarm Japanese tea from small cups, the Japanese continually knocked out and refilled their toy straws, and the conversation went on. They talked, of course, about the catechist, about his future activities, about the listeners. From the general council, we decided for the first time not to hire a separate house for the church; let the catechist, when coming here, live in Yamada’s house. He will come monthly and stay for ten days, and more if necessary. There are already listeners: first of all, the Aquila family, perhaps also John Kudoo, Hashimoto’s wife needs to be properly awakened, this alone is enough to occupy all the catechist’s free time. If there is success, then we can raise the issue of a special church house. I ordered Christians to certainly maintain the closest communication with each other, to gather, even in the absence of a catechist, for prayer every Sunday, to start a “simbokuquay”, to visit each other, etc. May God grant that all this will be fulfilled. Our conversation lasted until about 11 o'clock, then I went to spend the night at my hotel. September 4. At 8 o'clock in the morning, wishing our new church success, we left again for Iwamizawa (a six-hour drive). In Iwamizawa we change trains and head east along the main line into the interior of the island, to places even more untouched than those we have traveled to so far. After a 20-minute drive from Iwamizawa, we arrive at Minenobu station, where people from the village of Numakai were waiting for us (it stretches along the road for twenty miles, if not more, and there are even two railway stations). This village is also under the jurisdiction of Polycarp Ishii, catechist of Itsikisiri, who was waiting for us at the station with two local Christians: Jacob and Luke, an artist. There are only two Christian houses in Numakai. The house of Jacob Kozukuri had long been baptized and was constantly in connection with the church; The eldest son is now a catechist in Vakkanai, and Jacob himself, constantly talking about something, spreads a lot of knowledge about Christ. There are five people in the family: Jacob, his wife and then his daughter with her husband and child. The son-in-law is serving in the military and was now in Sapporo for training. Another house (four people) was recently annexed from Methodism, and some were rebaptized, while others were only anointed. This is done because some doubt Methodist baptism: it is performed there through sprinkling, and sometimes over a whole crowd; one cannot even be sure whether even a drop of water fell on everyone. In addition, their teaching about baptism is so far from Christian that, strictly speaking, it is difficult to recognize it as a sacrament. The Christians brought with them to the station a porter for our luggage, and we walked along the railroad bed to Kozukuri's house. There, in the front room where the icons hung, there solemnly stood a table covered with a red flannelette blanket and four chairs - all of this was deliberately occupied by the board for the sake of our arrival. We, therefore, were no longer sitting on the floor with our legs crossed, but like real Europeans we were luxuriously sitting on a chair and at a table. Jacob, who had lost one eye somewhere, was fussing all the time, talking about his life, about his acquaintance with the bishop, etc., etc., bombarding us with questions about everything at once. A remarkably fast and enterprising person in everything. Now he is engaged in farming, but, by origin, he was a samurai, and after that he was a tailor of European clothes, ran a kitchen, and cooked himself. When military settlements began to be established, Jacob could not help but try his hand at farming. Of course, at first it didn’t work out so well, but the city took courage. After sitting with the Kozukuri family, we went to Luka; their house was on a neighboring plot. Luka lives with his mother and sister, and has a younger brother, but he is at a military training camp in Sapporo. Mother is a completely deaf old woman, very respectable in appearance; the sister is still an unmarried young girl, brought up in a Protestant school. This house is also made up of former samurai, now trying their hand at farming. The whole room is hung with oil paintings painted by Luka himself, and painted, in my opinion at least, very well. Luka studied painting at the Tokyo Art School or Academy, and is now going to go to Europe, to Paris, for further improvement. Some patrons have already promised him their financial support. I tried to talk to the old woman, but nothing came of it; it took special skill for her to hear anything. I talked about Jerusalem, about Palestine, where I had been. And Luke was still interested in knowing whether Orthodoxy existed in Europe and America, in particular in Paris. I told him about our Russian church in Paris and advised him to take a certificate from the mission before leaving there. Of course, he doesn’t know Russian, but he can communicate in French with our Parisian priest and confess. Those going to America take such certificates and, according to the Russians living there, they actually come to our church, for example, in San Francisco. Jacob showed all his culinary skills at dinner: which we ate, also sitting on chairs and at the table. At eight o'clock they served Vespers, again without reading and for the same reason. Our not particularly musical “sensei” (catechist) and Jacob’s daughter sang with sin, and Luke’s sister, who learned to sing at a Protestant school, also helped a little. Luka himself, according to Father Nikolai, can also sing, but someone delayed him and he could not come. The old mother dragged herself into our meeting, sat quietly against the wall, crossed herself and prayed only one prayer known to her. After the service, as usual, I gave a short lesson about keeping the faith, about constant vigilance, about prayer, etc. Then they talked again, sitting on the floor (the table was removed so as not to interfere in the cramped room). Divine services are held here more or less regularly on Sundays, that is, both of these houses come together and read what they have. They do not have any special metrics; they belong to the Itsikisiri Church. In the summer, however, during busy working hours, there are no meetings. Well, what can we do, at least we got ready at another time. We talked with the tireless Jacob for a very long time, the old woman finally got ready to go home to bed, and the tired women were thinking the same thing. Having accepted the coming blessing before bed, everyone began to say goodbye, and then prepare beds for us. In the most honorable and smallest room they made a bed for me with a green canopy to protect me from the local terrible mosquitoes. In the next room, Father Nikolai sat with the catechist and Jacob himself, under one common canopy covering the entire room. The poor women and their children had to sleep in the kitchen in the open air and on bare boards, and at night it was far from hot. The house was filled with people sleeping, only some invisible inhabitants were not sleeping, who, out of habit, did not let me sleep - they jumped and rudely, like a village, bit. September 5. I got up very early, spread the paper screens onto the field, from where a pleasant fresh breeze rushed in and where the sun played so welcomingly with its morning rays. I sat down to write my diary, trying not to wake up the others. But they didn’t sleep in the kitchen either, maybe they got up even earlier than me... Soon all the beauty of the morning was disrupted in the most unpleasant way: the kitchen was flooded, and acrid thick smoke poured out in a column throughout the whole house and mercilessly hurt my eyes. I remembered our ancient torch and black huts. That must have been torture! We had breakfast again with Jacob's cooking. We had to hurry to the station, to the Bibay station (another station in this village). Jacob found a small horse and cart, the kind usually used in a Japanese village for farming, that is, a rather shallow quadrangular box on two large wheels. We put our luggage there, took off our shoes and the four of us sat down in the remaining free space in the box, trying to fit tightly so as not to chatter when our chariot jumped. Jacob, who had never owned a horse, sat down to ride, and we set off. We reached a small ditch (the border of the land of Jacob), put on our shoes, got out, climbed over the ditch, took off our shoes again, filled the empty space in the box again, and set off for good. We moved, of course, much faster than on foot, although in all especially muddy places, and certainly in the middle of a puddle, we had to hastily put on our boots and jump out before the wheels got stuck. We had to go six miles, but a third of the way until the end of the journey our chariot got completely bogged down, and so as not to be late, we treacherously left Jacob to rake alone and ran to the station. Fortunately, the train made no exception this time; it arrived a quarter of an hour later, and we, and even Jacob and his chariot, arrived safely before it arrived. Sensei and Jacob said goodbye, and we moved further to the east, along the same semi-wild landscape. Everywhere new and new, without order, giant trees are lying and rotting, one peasant is not able to remove them or destroy them, stumps stick out, charred trunks turn black, there are groves that have not yet been touched, houses, “tonden”, then the straw huts of non-military settlers. It's about an hour's drive to Sunagawa, where the road owned by the coal mine company ends (we've still traveled on its railroads). From here begins the government road, which was opened only a month ago. The stations are brand new, nothing is in order yet. This makes the impression of primordiality, gestation, which strikes the eye from the entire local environment and nature, become even more palpable. Then the settlement villages disappear. The area is especially wild and picturesque when the road cuts through the mountain ridge along the banks of the large Ishikari River. Somehow, embankments and bridges are paved above the river swirling from the strong current, and on the other side, almost right up to the train, there are gray slopes on which hang huge stones and trees fallen by a storm or torn down by a mountain stream. Sometimes a stream gushes from a steep slope straight onto the canvas. All this took enormous effort; it was all torn apart with dynamite. And now, and for a long time to come, it will be necessary to spend money on this road: the mountain slopes are constantly being eaten away by the numerous springs here, more than once the mountain has slipped and covered the railway track. One tunnel collapsed just two days before our passage, and communication was interrupted. Beyond the tunnel was a plain covered with thick tall grass and copses. Here and there the pointed roofs of wretched Ainos huts rose out of the grass, standing more alone, apart. Near them, the bearded figure of the inhabitant himself would sometimes appear, lazily looking at the train for a long time. According to the stories of John Oizumn, a Christian who settled with us in Sunagawa, the government allocated plots of land for the Ainos, but these latter do not think about working on the land, only rarely, rarely, near the Ainos hut you can see some hints of a vegetable garden. Near the stations, at the edge of the forest and even in the forest, there were entire Japanese villages and towns - newly built, white. We soon emerged onto a completely open plain, where the nascent city of Asa-hikawa, the future capital of this area, and perhaps of all of Hokkaido, spread out into the distant expanse. Now it has more than 1000 houses, arranged in regular rectangular streets, wide and straight. Our Christians must be here, but Fr. Nikolai was coming here for the first time and didn’t know anyone. We decided to drive further to Nakayama, also a new city and “tonden”, so that, after visiting the Christians there and getting to know this new place in general, we would stop at Asahikawa on the way back. In Nakayama we walked along a dirt road from the station into the city and to the hotel. Our Christian companion (the headman or head of this village) told some fellows to carry our luggage - they sheepishly approached, shouldered the suitcases and brought them to the hotel. Of course, it was necessary to give them something for their efforts; but there was no trace of the porters. No matter how much we shouted at them, no matter how much we and the head tried to persuade them to come back and take something, our fellows only bowed and hastily ran away further and further. Obviously, civilization has not yet touched them as it should. The owner of the hotel, who had previously lived in Ekohama and served with some Frenchman, bombarded us with conversations about this Frenchman, and about the climate, and the inhabitants of Nakayama, and about all the especially good qualities of his hotel. The rooms were located in the Roman style, near an internal pool with a fountain, in which the most bizarrely mutilated small trees - dwarfs - were located in jars and boxes. The rooms only opened onto this pool; the visitors thus had the pleasure of admiring each other all the time, if none of them wanted to close the screens and sit in the semi-darkness and locked up. But on the other hand, such rooms were surprisingly warm: in winter, a brazier is placed, and then hot coals are placed in the “irori”, and the “kyaku-san” (guest), putting on two cotton kimonos, does not say that it is cold. Our arrival, however, was not so successful. One of the Christians, who strongly invited us here to Sapporo, has not yet returned from there; the other was also absent. Thus, only the house of Oizumi and another young soldier who came here as an instructor for military settlers remained. Soon this soldier Hori-yama came to us. He is married to a pagan; he learned Orthodox teaching from a friend at a rural school as a child. He believed and even wanted to serve the church, he wanted to enter the seminary. But the pagan parents prevented this. In the room opposite us there was also an Orthodox Christian - Elisha from Sapporo. A tall man, wearing glasses, completely bald. He serves as a government architect and builds houses for military settlements throughout Jezo, moving from place to place to do this. Recently he had just arrived from Wei-hai-wei, where he lived with the Japanese garrison until the port was surrendered to the British, and was now traveling to the northeast of the island to build the “tonden” again. We invited him to our place and talked with him for a long time. In Sapporo they did not have to find him at home; they only saw his wife, still a pagan (she even now accompanied her rarely seen husband to Nakayama and immediately returned to Sapporo). By the way, this same Elisha built a prayer house in Sapporo, in which he was later baptized. September 6. John Oizumi promised to take us to Christian houses in the morning, but he left on business in Asahikawa and we sat at home all morning to no avail, watching as the stormy rain began to drizzle, making the already dirty streets impassable. Hori-yama (soldier), however, lived nearby, and a girl from the hotel took us to him. After twelve o'clock we went around in the rain. First of all, after driving around the city quite a bit, we visited the parents of Kubota (the Christian seen in Sapporo). Both father and mother were still pagans, but they had already heard a lot about the faith from their son and, apparently, were inclined to listen to the sermon. We sat at their entrance, not daring to take off our water-filled shoes. At first the old man and the old woman were embarrassed, the conversation did not go well; Father Nikolai, thank you, got everyone out of trouble by asking them for fried corn. The old woman, seeing that she could treat her, was inspired, brought some corn and soaked peas, the old man brought a watermelon from the melon patch, and a casual conversation immediately began. The people are simple and kind; God willing, my son’s wish will come true, a permanent catechist will come here, and the old people will be Christians. The road was so bad and getting wet in the rain was so unpleasant that my father Nikolai began to restlessly glance at his watch and fear that he might be late for the train. But there was still enough time, so we went to Oizumi. The house is very large and clean, not at all built like ordinary Tonden houses. John bought it at his own expense and lived here alone with his wife; the children (two daughters and a son-in-law) lived in a government house. One daughter was baptized, and the other was only catechized, the son-in-law is a pagan; in the same way, all his children, the grandchildren of John, were not baptized. It is therefore necessary to visit them carefully, otherwise in such a wilderness and without a catechist they may become completely weakened. John himself still comes to Sapporo from time to time and sees him there with the “shimpu” and the catechist, and the rest of his family just came here and stays there all the time. After staying with him for a while, we hurried to catch the train. Our initial intention to stop in Asahikawa had to be abandoned: it was raining continuously and who knows how it could all end, the mountain could slide down again and interrupt communication. What will we do then? This is what Oizumi advised us, and instead of Asahikawa, we decided to go further to Fukagawa, where there are two Christians, and nearby there are several more houses that we wanted to visit on foot. Fukagawa turned out to be a small settlement that grew only thanks to the railway and exists together with it. She works, feeds the village, supplies are brought in; there is no road, and there is nowhere to get rice: it does not grow nearby. Soon Father Nikolai found our two Christians. They were a father and son who had recently arrived here from Hakodate. The son then came to our hotel. Apart from these two, you don’t hear about Orthodox Christians here. We mentioned to him about Uriu-kava (a settlement where there were Orthodox Christians). But it turned out to be not at all one ri from here, but as much as five or even six; we had no need to think about going there along the blossoming road. It is necessary, therefore, to go straight to Otaru (via the unchanged Iwamizawa). Having decided so, we immediately sent a telegram to the catechist in Otaru that tomorrow we would take the first train straight there; We'll arrive in the evening. The rain continued to fall, but we were no longer afraid of it: the dangerous tunnel and the mountain ridge were behind us, and now the road to Otaru itself was good riddance. Therefore, we had a quiet dinner, agreed with the banto to leave and went to bed. September 7. In the morning we almost swam our way through the ravine to the station, where we found a whole crowd of wet people with lean faces. They told us that the road had been washed out overnight. - Well, thank God that we got out of Nakayama yesterday, we would have had to sit there hopelessly! Now, therefore, you need to wait for the train from below and go on it. Having encouraged ourselves with such a syllogism, Father Nikolai and I calmly sat down on a bench, triumphantly looking at the disappointed travelers who had to go to Asahikawa. But the conductor, somehow attentively looking at our calm, came up and explained that the road was washed out in both directions, and the telegraph was not working; Probably the bridge has also been demolished, but this is not yet well known. We also had to calm down a lot. “When will it be possible to leave here?” The conductor consoled us with a little hope that the bridge might be intact - perhaps the path was only covered with water and not washed away. There was nothing to do, I again had to go through the ravine, where the water was already much higher than the ankle, almost knee-deep. Having gone up to our room on the second floor, we helplessly began to look at the station visible from there, thinking that the locomotive was about to start smoking, and our uncertain situation would be over. Meanwhile, the water in the ravine was noticeably rising. Soon it became impossible to wade to the station. They set up some kind of box and held a crossing in it... Then the water rose to our street, gradually flooded it and by night it rose to the “tatami” on the lower floor. The owners began to move to the second floor, dragging their belongings, supplies, dishes, etc. there. Things were obviously taking a serious turn. It was no longer possible to go outside. September 8. Waking up early in the morning, I hurried to the window, hoping to see the black earth. But alas! The street and the valley, right up to the station, turned into one continuous stream, along which logs, tubs, boards, broken fences, and firewood rushed swiftly. One-story houses stood as sad islands up to their roofs in the water. Water filled half of the lower floor of our hotel. People rode through the streets on hastily put together rafts, collecting from flooded houses all those who did not have time to escape. Far away from the station, from barely visible huts, cries for help could be heard, but nothing could be done. Our hotel served as a meeting place for all those fleeing, everyone rushed to the second floor. Three wet, barely alive dogs swam from somewhere, someone brought cold chickens, not to mention people. There were conversations, condolences, laughter, and in general it became much more entertaining than usual. Of course, some food was served, and it was prepared somehow right there on the second floor. Soon the rain stopped, and with it came hope for an end to the disaster. The entire population of our hotel poured out onto the balcony, watching what was happening on the street and near the station, and there the water covered the canvas on which someone was running, something was collected and taken to one place: actions were extremely suspicious, showing that the canvas was not entirely healthy. Everyone shared their impressions and rumors, which grew every minute. It was reported that a hotel somewhere had been demolished - thousands of victims; Entire villages were destroyed. It's good that such rumors usually don't come true. And the remarkable thing is that amid all this pogrom, no sad faces were visible, no curses and curses were heard, so common during public misfortune. Everyone was joking and giggling. The poor man, whose huge pile of planted firewood was swept away by the water, was also giggling; all his property; The owners of the opposite house also giggled, whose two horses struggled with the current, in danger of drowning any minute. It’s somehow not customary for the Japanese to particularly show their feelings; in spite of everything they just giggle; whether he is happy or sad, angry or embarrassed, there is still the same expressionless smile. To some this seems insensitivity, extreme coldness of soul. No, this is not coldness or insensitivity (although with thin nerves, of course, it is difficult to withstand oneself like that), but simply Chinese decency ingrained into flesh and blood, almost depersonalizing a person with its mechanical structure. September 9. We are still sitting. Yesterday from noon the water began to recede, but now it is still ankle-deep even on our street. Residents are gradually returning to their houses rising from the water. There is destruction everywhere, silt, fallen plants. People are bustling about, washing dirty walls, straightening broken screens and overturned fences. Now they will have a lot of trouble and even more losses! The news comes one worse than the other. The track of the state-owned new railway is washed out and damaged almost along its entire length. And then the canvas is under water or damaged in places. It is heard that the flood was especially great in Ebetsu, that is, on the Poromuy plain. Something happened to our Evgeniy Sabanai and his relatives?! The trouble is, if the flood happened at night and unexpectedly, then they have absolutely nowhere to run: there are impassable swamps all around, no hills, no hills. Of course, there are no boats, there is nothing to sail away with unless they climb onto the roof, and the roof of their thatched hut is not a particularly reliable shelter. Another question that occupied us greatly was how we would get out of here. You'll have to go almost on foot all the way to Iwamizawa, and even there nothing definite is known yet. I put forward my previous plan: somehow make my way to the western coast of the island to Masika, where there is a church, then by boat to Wakkanai and back to Otaru. The map also showed the road through the Masike Pass, famous for its difficulty, but no one here, surprisingly, knew this road. Even at the post office they responded with complete ignorance. And Father Nikolai already did not like to ride horses, especially in the mountains. The horizon turned out to be quite gloomy. Sitting around doing nothing, and eating St. Anthony's food at that, was not at all interesting. By the way, about food. We were fed some very fragrant rice; but they say that it has also risen in price. The supply has stopped, and the reserves in the city are small, and even those were greatly damaged by the flood. In the evening, on this occasion, a “rice” riot occurred in Fukagawa, just like in Italy. Some merchant found it more profitable to sell rice for a well-known measure of thirty instead of 18 sen. And by nightfall a crowd had gathered and they scolded him for a long time; then, taking advantage of the darkness, they began to throw stones at him and his shop. The smart owner had to quickly hide, and his shop was torn apart by dissatisfied customers and the rice was scattered. September 10. A day of deliverance, or at least certain hope. At first there were rumors that a river steamer would come from below to take the Governor General, who was also imprisoned in Fukagawa. Father Nikolai went (it was already possible to somehow walk, although without shoes) to find out about all this, and soon a triumphant man appeared. The steamer is unlikely to come, but he came across one Anglican sergeant major who volunteered to tell us about the road and even take us to Uriugawa. Soon, just before lunch, the sergeant major himself arrived. We treated him to lunch and started talking. The road to Masika through the pass is not at all as scary as it was described to us. The road is wide, rough, there is a post office constantly passing there, there is a place to spend the night on the pass; The distance is very short, obviously our guide measured it only with his soldier’s feet. The name Uriugawa belongs, according to him, not to any individual village, but to the whole district. Our Christians lived in Tsiba-noogyo. We will have to walk to this place, according to the soldier, it’s also not very far, only four, although we need to describe a large circle. Afterwards, of course, there was much more, and it took us a whole day to travel. The sergeant major knew almost all the Christians living in the area, and, to our delight, he told us that in his village there was one Orthodox Christian, a soldier. This was a completely unexpected piece of luck: the road lay precisely to this village and, thus, we could visit our Christian, about whom we had no information. This rewarded us for the tedious sitting on the second floor and for all the difficulties of the future journey. We talked with the sergeant major about faith, in which he seemed to be very interested. He, in fact, was baptized by the Methodists, but then, in his own words, “for convenience” he converted to Anglicanism. “Here,” he says, “there is neither a Methodist catechist nor Christians, but there is an Anglican catechist, so I switched.” He apparently knows nothing about the difference between one and the other confession, although he is not a simple person at all, he has read a lot and generally loves to talk. He, therefore, is completely indifferent to what he believes in, what church he goes to. It will be “benri” (convenient) for him, and then he will convert to Unitarianism, as long as on Sundays he has somewhere to go and listen to singing with an organ. And after this, the Anglicans in every possible way deny the name Protestants! Only a Protestant who has lost all stability in his doctrine (after all, he himself is a judge in it) can be indifferent to such an extent. However, our interlocutor knew the objections to Orthodoxy and began asking us about them.. Father Nikolai consistently examined all these objections, explained to him the meaning of icon veneration, the teaching of our church about the communion of the living and the dead, about prayer for the latter, about tradition, about the sacrament of repentance, etc. The listener sat with his eyes open, all this was completely new to him, all this was presented to him by the Protestants in a completely different light and sense. Orthodoxy now seemed to him much more meaningful and vital, warmer than Protestantism; He was especially touched by the opportunity to pray for the dead, and everyone cannot help but be burdened by this abandonment of the dead to the mercy of fate. Where is the love that “never falls away”? Our listener left with the firm intention of experiencing Orthodoxy and even asked to give him an icon, as we give to our Christians. Maybe later he will completely believe. In the evening we found a cart, that is, a rural rattler, in the form of a box on two wheels, before Tsikushibetsu (“tonden”, in which the sergeant-major lived). The sergeant major, having learned about this, left on foot in the evening to meet him in his village and then escort him further. September 11th. At seven o'clock in the morning we finally sat down with Fr. Nicholas in the “basya” (cart) and, sincerely thanking God, we set off from our hotel-prison. The fat and healthy horse briskly dragged us along the streets, which were beginning to dry out a little. Everywhere - the consequences of the flood - fences that have not yet been repaired, overturned barns; they dry “tatami” (thick mats, the necessary furniture of a Japanese house; when changing apartments, they also transport tatami, like we have chairs, etc.; there are apartments with and without tatami, furnished and not), somehow cleaning up dirty houses. We approach the railway bed: the rails are demolished six fathoms from the track and turned over with the sleepers facing up. Obviously, communication will not be restored for a long time, and there may be more than one rice riot in Fukagawa. Fields followed the canvas. The luxurious fields now lay sadly on the ground, half covered with silt. Farmers will not soon recover from this disaster. It’s good that there were no casualties in Fukagawa. Soon, however, the soil began to rise, and little by little the traces of the flood disappeared. We were driving some kind of “tonden” along an arrow-straight and smooth road. But then the forest began and our “basya” began to make the most bizarre jumps. We bumped into each other painfully until we finally started walking. We were soon overtaken by two pedestrians, one of whom turned out to be our Alexander Usui, and we walked further together, talking among ourselves. In the middle of the forest there is a Japanese house - “tateba” (station, place of rest), “obaasan” bows warmly and invites you to sit down, and in “irori” a whole log is burning and smoke is pouring out in a column, how can you not be tempted?.. We sat down by the fire. The Japanese took out their pipes, and I, in order to keep up with the others, chewed dried cuttlefish (sold right there), and we quietly sat around talking about all the adventures. At about ten o'clock we entered Tsikushibetsu. The house of Kambe (sergeant major) stood at the very edge. As soon as we drew level, Kambe himself ran out of it, followed by our Orthodox Moses Ukawa and another third young man, who was recommended to those testing the teaching. We all went together to Moses' house. He is still a very young man, unmarried, living with his old mother, a stubborn Buddhist. But her children were all Orthodox: the eldest son, now deceased, was a fairly famous Chinese scholar in his district and served as a catechist in our church until his death. He left behind a whole library of various books and, among other things, recordings of lectures on theological subjects that the deceased listened to at the catechist school. At that time, the teachers were Bishop Nicholas himself and some other Russian missionaries. This entire library is now with Moses, which could not be more convenient for Kambe and other examiners. Moses himself also wanted to go to church service and entered the seminary, but did not stay there long. Now he carries out military service and is engaged in cultivating the land - an occupation that is completely beyond his strength with his weak chest. Therefore, the church service again beckons him. He started talking to me about the catechist school, about the possibility for him to go there. Of course, this is no longer the zeal of the first Christians, but... everywhere they ask for catechists, and you can’t really look into the soul of everyone; someone else, and with such a mood at first, later becomes a true preacher. Instead of an icon, Moses has a painting called “Moses Found.” We gave him a chromolithographed icon of the Mother of God. Kambe begged for an icon of the Savior. May God grant him to emerge from the twilight into full light. According to them, many listeners of faith could be found here. And here, therefore, a catechist is needed”: there are no laborers, although the harvest is plentiful... They left us for dinner, but we were in a hurry to Tsiba in order to visit the Christians there before dark and have time to get out on the road to Masik by nightfall; Kambe's calculations were far from being true. We drove three ri, from here to the river - one ri, and from there to Tsiba more than two ri; From here, therefore, the walk is even more than 15 miles. So we got into our “basya” and drove off, and Kambe and Moses walked with us. However, we did not have to travel for long: the bridge over the small river had collapsed, and we had to somehow cross it on a log, leaving the luggage to the drivers. About three miles away there is a large river, through which a ferry runs on a steel rope. We made noise on the shore for a long time until we were noticed from the opposite side and some shaved, muttering old man brought the ferry to our side. There was dampness and cold coming from the river, and it felt like autumn. On the other side there was a water mill. Two men were doing something near their cart, the boys were busy playing. No sign of any means of transportation. It was not so convenient to walk about nine miles with our suitcases. The old man called some young man, told him to carry my suitcase, and we followed him to the nearest village: there, the “dzimus” (government) will give you a horse. It was already two o'clock, and the end of the road was still not in sight. Father Nikolai ordered, first of all, to bring lunch from somewhere (even here, in a remote village, there is a hotel), and then he started talking about movement. It turned out to be not so easy. After long conversations and questions around the village, the senior member of the board finally took pity and gave us a guide and a government horse to load our luggage. We walked along with Kambe all the way, far ahead of the others and talking with him about faith, and about Russia, etc. He expressed his decision to convert to Orthodoxy, I convinced him to do it slowly, having thoroughly tested himself and his faith. His approach seemed very easy to me, so the matter could be resolved simply in a soap bubble. At about four o'clock we arrived in Tsiba and straight to the administration, where, as we knew, one of the local Orthodox served. His last name is Katoo (relative to the priest in Nemoro). Before them, two brothers lived here, both Christians. The eldest was especially jealous. In the boardroom, in the room where he lived, there were many icons hanging, and on Sundays, all the local Christians were sure to gather together and perform divine services. Katoo also knew how to sing church hymns. Now, unfortunately, the older brother is no longer there, and the younger brother, as far as one can judge from his room (he was not at home), does not show his faith so independently; he must have been afraid of the displeasure of his superiors. After waiting for Father Nikolai, who was late, we went to another Christian house, familiar to Father Nikolai for a long time (from the same village as him), the house of Jacob Ivan. And there was only Jacob’s old mother, a pagan, at home. The house, of course, was no different from other peasant houses, only an icon and an Orthodox calendar hung in the most prominent place. Jacob has been living here for a long time, away from the church, but, according to Father Nikolai, he keeps his faith unshakably, for which all his fellow villagers respect him, although they do not sympathize with the faith itself. Jacob soon came home from work. He is not yet an old man, although his children (Peter and Nina) are already adults. Without hesitation, my father called them “sey-na” (baptized name) to us: this is a very good sign. Usually the Japanese call each other by their old names, Japanese, and only in prayer do they remember their baptized names. Of course, if a name is rarely used, it will be difficult to remember. For ordinary Japanese peasants, especially women, Greek names sound completely elusive (and don’t our peasants distort sophisticated names)? However, good Christians force themselves to remember, there are even those who, in addition to Christian names; They no longer give their newborns any name, so they are entered into civil records. Jacob brought a huge watermelon from the melon patch, cut it and we treated ourselves... Excellent watermelon! This was my first time eating something like this in Japan. Jacob, pleased with the impression, said that their Tsiba is famous for watermelons. However, it was time to move on: it was starting to get a little dark. Jacob immediately found a cart from a neighbor, the same “basya”, and we, having said goodbye to him and those accompanying us from Tsikushibetsu, quickly drove off. About four miles along a flat road, and we were already completely in darkness, driving up through the forest to the lights of Ittai-betsu. This is, in fact, only a separate inn on the post road in Masik. The famous pass begins from here. Here we stopped for the night. The talkative hostess soon introduced us to all the details of our further journey. It’s a little 12 ri from here to Masike through rivers and mountains. They have riding horses, and they will also provide a guide, on whose cargo saddle we will place our luggage. Mountain pass and Masike town September 12. It wasn’t until eight o’clock that the packing ended and we left. “Anko” (the guy) rode in front with our suitcases, I followed him on a real English saddle, Father Nikolai and now must sit on the cargo one. The rough and wide road that the sergeant major painted for us turned out to be a somehow paved horse path through a densely overgrown gorge, along which a fairly decent mountain river rushes noisily. In the first 15 miles we had to ford it as many as eleven times! The horses had to be allowed to cross the river sideways, holding their chests against the current, otherwise they would capsize. Housing was found very rarely, it was increasingly wilderness. Sometimes we ride for a long time through thickets of some plant, like a fern, so tall that even sitting on a horse you can hardly reach its top. There is imperturbable silence all around, you can’t even hear the birds - only the clatter of horses can be heard. Finally, we drive up a huge rise for a long time: the road spirals along a steep slope. This is the highest point of the pass. A little more and we are at Nenara station; the same lonely inn, lost in the forest and mountains. Especially in winter, according to the owner, it is quiet and deserted, no people passing by, no one. We change horses. There was only one saddle here, and even then with a torn stirrup. It was provided to me. They loaded our luggage onto another horse and put Father Nikolai on top of everything, and the guide had to walk. The road became so swampy that our horses had difficulty pulling their legs out. However, everything turned out well, only Father Nikolai fell from the saddle once with all the luggage, and one of my legs ached from the fact that I had to keep it bent all the way on a tattered stirrup. We climb another remarkable ascent, and before us an amazingly picturesque view opens up of the valley below with a river, groves, peasant farms, and then the blue sea - the goal of our aspirations. It's rare to see such a majestic picture! We descend from the mountain for the last time, change horses at the bottom and drive quickly, quickly along a flat green plain, and then, turning south, along the seashore. Here, however, the horses walked at a walk: small pebbles cut their legs. We drove around bay after bay. All this is built up with fisheries, such as I saw in Nemoro. Finally, on the cape, across the bay under a high mountain, Masika appeared, in whose roadstead several ships were visible. We cross the mountain and descend into the city itself. At 6 o'clock we were already at the hotel, straightening our tired limbs. Masike 8, a fairly large city, recently beginning to develop, and with time it will become even more important: a railway is proposed to it along the very gorge through which we just made our way. All this, of course, will serve trade, but the main goal is military: they are afraid that one fine day the Russians will land... Our church started here quite recently, about two years ago, before only solitary believers lived. Catechist Abraham Yagi, now serving here, is the pioneer of the local preaching. Of course, no one was waiting for us here: it was impossible to notify us from Fukagawa, and according to the original plan, we were supposed to come here from the south by sea from Otaru. Therefore, immediately upon arrival, Father Nikolai went to church to tell about our arrival and gather Christians for prayer. Vespers was to begin at 9 o'clock. For prayer meetings, a house is rented - of course, a small one, of three rooms, but the screens separating them can always be removed and then you get a fairly spacious, oblong room, sufficient for prayer for at least forty people. Our “sensei” lives here, he is not yet an old man, he is overweight, but a good catechist. His wife left for her homeland to be with her dying father, and Abraham (“sensei”), in her absence, fell ill with “kakke” and has not been able to recover for a long time. This disease is specifically Japanese, not found anywhere else on the globe. The patient's legs begin to swell without much pain, and then the swelling rises higher, in rare cases reaching the chest and head. This degree almost inevitably ends in death. There is also a type of “kakke” without a tumor, which is considered more dangerous. What kind of disease this is, what its causes are, no one can still say with certainty. It has only been noticed that people who eat not pure rice, but half and half with wheat or barley, rarely experience “kakka” and not in such a strong form. This disease affects a person periodically: if you have caught it once, you must wait for a recurrence next year. Our catechist had been suffering from “kakke” for a long time, but this time the disease lingered for some reason and took on a dangerous form: without swelling of the legs. The patient could not walk, could not sit in Japanese style on the floor, and felt weak. He now had no one at home, and his position would have been very unenviable if his Christians had not taken care of him. One of them was always sitting in the church, taking care of his sick “sensei”, preparing dinner for him, cleaning and lighting the lamp, carrying his letter to the post office, etc. This church is still very small: only 23 people with children (two were now absent), and moreover, they all gathered from different places, some were baptized in Hakodate, in Otaru, or even in old Japan. In Masik, the metric is just beginning and so far only 5 baptisms have been recorded (one of them died). The weakness of this church is again that Christians are not accustomed to constantly gathering for prayer on Sundays or holidays. According to the catechist, no more than five people come on Sunday mornings, and up to eight on Saturday evenings. Each of them lived for a long time away from the priest and catechist, and without them the divine service could not be organized, so they lived, each praying alone at home. There are, however, regular visitors to the service. I served Vespers, three girls and two men sang. After the service I gave a sermon about the mustard seed. In order to encourage the church, they then decided to open “shimbokuquay”, and precisely start from tomorrow. Everyone, of course, asked about our misadventures during the flood, conveyed details of the disaster in other places: even now reliable calculations raise the number of drowned people to one hundred people. In reality, of course, there was more: in Hokkaido there are a lot of people, some of them are not brought anywhere. September 13. We had more free time than we needed, so we slowly walked around all five Christian houses here. In one house, a husband and wife had a huge quarrel and were almost ready to separate completely. And so began the long story of their reconciliation. At the same time, Father Nikolai showed remarkable patience and ability to deal with such somewhat eccentric people. Thanks to his efforts and the assistance of other Christians, this matter was arranged. Even in this case, the Japanese do not rely on strictly established rules. What would be easier for a husband and wife to reconcile, especially since they, apparently, were themselves afraid and did not want a final break? No, some kind of intermediary is needed who would take on the trouble, go several times from one house to another, then, having achieved success, bring the wife back to her husband’s house, etc. Another house: the father is a very long-time believer, but also in his old years he separated from his wife and moved here; There was no church here then. Here he took another pagan wife, and lived there, being listed in the “reitan”; no one had heard well where he had moved. Currently, he has been returned to the church again, his new wife and daughter are both now Christians. The third house of Hiranuma, some kind of official, or an old teacher, a man noticeably with great oddities, although not mentally ill. He is also an old Christian, he was baptized back in Hakodate from the “father,” that is, from Fr. Anatoly, to which alone the old Christians for some reason attach this Russian name. His wife and two eldest daughters were also baptized, the latter were also in our diocesan school, but without finishing the course they left, and now they have entered government schools as teachers. The eccentric father, constantly carried away by various fantasies, once became interested in Protestantism and even converted to it. But then, of course, he came to his senses and repented. He has a lot of icons in his house, and they are hung just like in Russian houses, a good lamp, and even (which I saw for the first time in a Japanese house) a dried willow tree was not forgotten; but alongside this they will grow up and consciously accept baptism. Amazing man. I had to talk to him a lot on this topic (and both the catechist and the priest had already convinced him more than once), but whether he would listen - that was the question. When a person is guided by fantasies and not common sense, it is difficult to reason with him; Even if he is convinced during the conversation, as soon as the interlocutor leaves, the old fantasies will float to the top again and the conversation will be as if it never happened. These two houses, as you see, are sick, barely recovered, they needed to be treated, raised. Abe's fourth house: the old mother constantly goes to church and prays earnestly; but her eldest son, immersed in the purchase, lost interest in the faith. You talk to him something about the soul, about salvation, at least there is movement on his face, apparently waiting for this matter to end; but one has only to touch upon questions of money and profit, and his eyes light up, and the conversation flows naturally, and there is no boredom on his face. What will happen to him and his wife if their pious old mother dies? The wife who quarreled with her husband is also the daughter of this old woman. Finally, the fifth house: the husband is the head of the post office, a very respectable man in the city and, it seems, wealthy. Together with his wife, he was baptized in Otaru many years ago. Both he and his wife were always zealous Christians who did a lot for the church. The wife, the leader in the house, also had great authority in the churches where her husband had to move for work. It was mainly thanks to the efforts of this good Christian couple that a church was founded in Masik. They have no children, they live only together. In their house we also met with a new student of the teaching, who was now almost completely prepared for baptism, only due to some family circumstances she could not be baptized this time. She always came to Vainai (the name of this house) before, and the hostess little by little turned her heart to listening to the teachings. God willing, under the influence of this good Christian woman, the new one will be a sincere follower of Christ. In addition to these five families, there are also single believers, some of whom we didn’t have to go home to: often the parents are pagans, and they don’t like Christianity, and sometimes a Christian is serving in someone else’s house, our visit would be inconvenient. September 14. The ship was only supposed to leave tomorrow, so we still had the whole day free. Late in the evening, the first “shimbokukwai” was appointed in the church, and before him the final reconciliation of the separated spouses was supposed to take place. Time passed, as usual, quickly, but business moved slowly, so only at nine o’clock in the evening could we open our “simbokuquay”. 14 people gathered there (that is, with the exception of those who were absent from the city and left behind to do housework, almost everyone came). There were also reconciled spouses here. Before the start of the “shimbokuquay”, the women together made various preparations: peeled and cut apples into slices (there are a lot of them here), laid out “kvasi” (cake) on pieces of paper, ground cups, etc. The men had a dignified conversation at the “hibatsi”, tapping their pipes. At 9 o'clock, after a short prayer, the "simbokukwai" began. Nadezhda Hiranuma (the daughter of an eccentric old man) very clearly told the life of St. Evdokia, even brought out the edification in detail. Then Oyagi, who had just previously made peace with his wife, improvised. Its theme was approximately: “Remember your last and never sin.” After him I spoke about the patience of Job. After the speeches they began to drink tea, eat kvass and talk; First of all, they decided that “simbokukwai” would continue to be performed monthly on this 14th day in turn in Christian houses. Maybe it will revitalize the fledgling church here. As we see, it is in great need of such revival. What to do? It was made up of Christians who came together by chance from afar and were lost in paganism far from the church. It’s hard for them all to get on their feet right away, but with a catechist, with divine services, with constant visits from the priest, they too will become better Christians. Subsequently, the city of Masike will grow, even more Christians will come here, maybe then the church will strengthen and make a more noticeable impact on the environment. September 15. At seven o'clock in the morning we left on the Seiryu-maru (Blue Dragon) north to Wakkanai. Our blue dragon has been sailing the seas for a long time, about more than thirty years, and now he has very little left: and for ships, after all, there is an age limit, especially for those built, like ours, in half from wood. A strong north wind was blowing, it was cold and damp on the upper deck, and it was sickening to sit below, the ship was rocking. I was the only one traveling in the cabin. Around noon we landed at Yagishiri, a small island, just to somehow deliver the mail there. The place is completely open, the waves rage freely. The island is not very high, covered with already bare gray trees, through which the dry grass is strangely green. Along the shore there are small huts, fishing villages, probably, and in them it is now cold and damp, only in the “irori” thick firewood is burning, filling everything with its acrid, suffocating smoke. At about five o'clock we approached the island of Rishiri (at the entrance to the Strait of La Perouse) and, shielding ourselves from the wind, we stopped there to spend the night, which was no longer interesting at all. The local cold brought us to despair: there was no warm clothing, and the weather was Siberian. Father Nikolai took advantage of his stay in Masik to sew himself a cotton “khabri” and a “kimono” (the first, in terms of meaning, is a frock coat: somewhat reminiscent of a Greek half-duckweed: a wide dress with the same sleeves and diverging hems, its length is slightly above the knees. A kimono is like a robe that is tightly wrapped and tied with a belt). But it was impossible to sew anything for me, since a European tailor could not be found here. September 16. In the morning at three and a half o'clock we went further. In Oniwaka (a small village on the southwestern coast of Rishiri), the steamer somehow stayed at anchor in a completely open roadstead. We walk along the eastern shore to the rather nice little pier Oshitomari on the northern side. The place is too typical to be forgotten. This island is almost round, rising up as a high conical mountain, very reminiscent of the famous Fuji (here it is called little Fuji); but near Oshitomari, a hook-shaped cape is somehow glued to the island, low-lying and treeless, only green grass covers its smooth surface. At the end of this cape, quite unexpectedly, a single rock rises, like an artificial monument. There is a white lighthouse perched on this rock. The cape forms a good harbour, and in it many ships take refuge during the stormy winds that often visit this generally destitute region. We then cross the bay and land at Howler Island. On the southeastern shore there is the village of Kaisho, about 200 houses, modestly nestled against a forested mountain. The town, of course, is new and hardly has a permanent population, but on the mountain through the forest one could see the characteristic, protruding roof of a “tera” (Buddhist temple); in the most beautiful places there was a red “tori-mon” (a specially shaped gate), an indispensable part of the “miya”, a Shinto shrine. They say that the Japanese are generally irreligious. This may be true in very many cases; but to say so indiscriminately would be an exaggeration. The people undoubtedly believe, but their faith is limited only to childhood superstitions, but they have not had to seriously think about faith. He feels that there is something above this world, and he also feels the need for help from above. Meanwhile, the slightest touch of the mind on the thin web of religions known to it was enough for this web to scatter into dust. What could he do? Or, without touching the mind, without using it, bow to Kwannon or Inari, reasoning quite far-sightedly that if all this is a lie (as the mind tells him), then such worship will not cause much harm; if it’s true, then Inari-san may be useful and, in any case, will have no reason to send any disasters. Hence the superstitious veneration of idols with an inner consciousness of the stupidity and unfoundedness of such veneration. A person who is accustomed to thinking a little, of course, will move to direct irreligion, although sometimes in a moment of despondency or disaster, especially death, he can clasp his hands in front of the same stupid inari. Disbelief and superstition, after all, very often and very peacefully coexist in the same head. From Kayee it's a four-hour walk to Wakkanai, a city located on the western shore of Romantsov Bay. This is the northernmost tip of Yezo and, one might say, of all of Japan in general (except, of course, for the northernmost of the Kuril Islands). The island of Ezo also ends in a fork, the eastern horn of which is Cape Soya, and the western horn is Nosyapu; This last one is where Wakkanai lies. The shores of Ezo were always visible to our right, but when we began to approach the Strait of La Perouse, to the left, mountains also appeared in the north. This is our Sakhalin, a corner of our native Russia, however, a corner of such a kind that no one wants to go there even after many years of absence from Russia. Finally, we go around the long Cape Nosyapu cut off to the sea by steps and stop opposite the city. The bay is completely open and when the east wind blows (“na-kayamas”, as it is called here), strong waves arise and no ship can stand in the roadstead, let alone communicate with the shore. Then the ships flee either to Oshitomari, or take refuge under Cape Soya, on the opposite side of the bay. Our steamer was very far from the shore, and the boat ride took a tediously long time. The waves were very big, our longboat was diving. Several Christians met us on the shore, led by the catechist John Kozukuri (son of the talkative Jacob). A catechist is still a young man, unmarried; he looks kind of chilly, like he’s sick. They say that in fact he constantly sits near the hibats, wrapped in all kinds of blankets, and really doesn’t like to go out into the cold. How will it work in Wakkanai, a predominantly cold place? He moved here just a month ago, exchanging with Polycarp Ishii from Itsikisiri. The Christians took our things and we went to the church house through the crowded shopping streets. The city is quite large, there are more than a thousand houses, and it seems that it promises to be even more, because there is always fishing here; It is built in several orders along the cape, under a wooded mountain. Our church house is located in the very central part of the city, opposite it is the post office, not far away is the city administration, and next to it is the best hotel in the city, in which premises were allocated for us. A place very advantageous for preaching and, moreover, not particularly noisy, since there is no trade nearby. Immediately upon arrival, they began Vespers: I served, and the catechist and two Christians sang. Of the latter, one is the mistress of this house herself; They themselves live in the back half of the house (husband, wife and two children), and the front half is given over to the church, charging only half the usual price. For an unmarried catechist, such a comfortable apartment cannot be found: the hostess prepares his food, and besides, no one, even women, is embarrassed to go to the family home. The owners were people who were very attached to the church; they had been baptized a long time ago and have always been distinguished by their zeal everywhere. Even now, when my husband is at home (he was away in Tokyo when we arrived), he serves the church almost less than the catechist: he conducts the meter himself, and sings and reads during services, and cares about other believers, their faith and so on, no less than the catechist. By character, he is a special person, not like others: he has constant conflicts with his wife over money and property. How much of everything they have already lost, thanks to his extreme kindness, his constant readiness to help a needy person out of trouble and his amazing trust in people in financial matters. How many times has he been deceived in the most brazen manner, but he does not lose heart at all and pursues his line. Money is needed, not for us alone, but others need to be helped, that’s enough for us. His wife strives to collect, he stubbornly distributes. Moreover, judging by the stories, this does not happen from simple promiscuity or negligence, but deliberately, from his convictions. They, however, are still very wealthy people and do a lot for the church. His name is Pavel Nakanishi. As you can see, we also have servants of God here. In this regard, I cannot tell here another similar example of Christian consistency. In one of our most central churches (almost in Tokyo itself), about two years ago, one so-called “bringer,” like the local anarchists or simply “thugs,” only with a political background, was baptized. They are recruited from uneducated young people, students, etc. Their motto is extreme Japaneseism, which is certainly accompanied by jealous guarding of the honor of the Japanese sovereign and state from foreigners: Hence the various pranks against foreigners and Japanese who would decide to give in too much to foreigners. Now, however, this side of the activity, if not completely eliminated from the “suck” program, has, in any case, been obscured - at present, “suck” simply terrorize rich people or political figures for money, forcing them to vote in favor of the one who hires the “suck.” So one of these rather unprincipled and dissolute young people was baptized, having first, of course, listened to the teaching in detail. Faith sank so deeply into his broad nature that he immediately changed and from being a sucker became a sincere follower of Christ. In order to break all ties with his former life and comrades, he went north, to Aomori, and there began to live in a new way. He chose peddling trade as his occupation, delivering material from house to house, etc. But this was, rather, only an excuse to talk to the pagans about Christ or to find those who were toiling and burdened, whom he could help. Having come to some poor house, our Christian either left them part of his proceeds or, if necessary, gave away part of the goods for free. One day he comes into the house, and there his wife and small children are sitting and crying over her husband who has just died. She doesn’t have a penny of money, she has nothing to pay for the dead, nothing to pay for the grave and funeral. Then Alexy took out his only yen, bought what he needed with it, and paid where he should. He made the coffin himself, dug the grave himself, and carried and buried the deceased himself. Then, having sold the goods, he collected some money and sent the widow and children to her homeland, to her father. They observed Sunday sacredly, as did the visit of the priest. In such cases, he abandoned his trade and placed his whole self at the disposal of the church. He sang and read during services, went with the priest to Christian homes, and carried out various assignments. His life ended in a Christian way. Having caught a cold, he caught typhus and, with the admonition of St. In secret, he died quietly. Needless to say, with what sorrow our little church in Aomori parted with him. After Vespers, I gave a sermon on the text: “Blessed are your eyes that you see, for many prophets and kings wanted to see this.” It was said about our calling to Christ only by the grace of God, without any merit on our part; hence the need to carefully guard this undeserved gift, preferring faith and salvation to everything in the world. About 15 people gathered. All the believers in Wakkanai were 28 people with children, but of this number, five were not in the city. The metric records 35 baptisms; of these, 13 died or moved to other places, and four are unknown where they are. In general, the church is good, although, according to Father Nikolai, some Christians have noticeably fallen asleep, the reason for this is, of course, the catechist’s inability to deal well with such people, or the inability to influence people at all, as well as the remoteness of Wakkanai: the sea is often rough, ships sometimes sail incorrectly, not on schedule, and Father Nikolai visits only once a year. Of course, this is too little for young Christians, especially in such a trading place. Therefore, some Christians immediately began to complain to me about the rare visits of the “simpu” and asked him to come at least twice a year. It would also be good if the catechist sat less near the “hibatzi” and walked more around Christian houses; Then those who dozed off will perhaps wake up. September 17. We visited local Christians and were in nine houses. There are only three completely Christian families (with Nakashima four), the rest are either half Christian, or simply isolated Christians. In one house there is an elderly widower with a baby son, his wife died a Christian not too long ago, and the old mother still does not listen to her son’s convictions. The son is a zealous Christian, he loves to serve at divine services and read, although he is not able to sing. He wants to make his mother a Christian, and he tells her about the Orthodox faith, dissuades her from Kwannon-san; but the old woman only remains silent and does not believe in Christ. He turned to us with a request to talk to the old woman and during the conversation did not take his eyes off her face, obviously hoping to see at least a trace of interest in faith and, saddened, that the old woman only smiled and assented. To enlighten such a listener, the same old “obaasan” must be necessary, who could explain the teaching to her from her own special point of view. We visited the shack of an old Christian; his wife and two children are all Christians, they are baptized well and come to church quite regularly. Despite his poverty, he was chosen as the eldest and one of the best Christians in the “gi-yuu” (alas, we also try to choose the rich, unwittingly thus paying tribute to the spirit of this world). There is also a good Sasaki house: two brothers live together, the eldest’s wife is the daughter of a very old Christian from Hakodate, Dr. Yamanaka. She told us from her childhood how the Yamanaka family suffered for Christianity back then. Her sister died, there was no place to bury her: they were not allowed into the city cemetery, and one day, together with other Christians, they had to hastily escape from Hakodate from official persecution and fled on a Russian military ship to the western shore of Yezo, landing not far from the place where Otaru now stands. At 8 o'clock in the evening we served the all-night vigil: tomorrow is Sunday. I served, and Father Nikolai preached the sermon. About 18 people gathered, six of them pagans (some, it seems, of those who are inclined to listen). Therefore, the subject of Fr.’s sermon. Nicholas chose the necessity for man to worship God, because only with God can man have eternal life and his true bliss. Buddhists and Shintoists strive for exactly the same thing as us, they desire an eternal, blissful life in the kingdom of heaven - they think that nirvana is precisely this kingdom of heaven that their soul requires. Meanwhile, nirvana is nothing more than the internal state of a person, completely unrelated to the eternal afterlife, while Shinto, according to precise research by scientists, is only the capital, the seat of the emperor. The question is, is this what believing souls want? He spoke very consistently and intelligently, and, moreover, quite simply, applying himself to the listeners. Then there was a long general conversation; reasoned. The next day we were going to visit Christians in nearby villages. It was necessary to go to the very tip of Cape Soya, to the village of Siri-usu at 8 ri (30 versts), and to Ko-etoi at 2 ri from here. The Christians took the trouble to order riding horses for us, and Fr. Nikolai, who was not used to riding on a European saddle, carefully emphasized that horses were required to be of a quiet disposition and without the bad habit of trotting. September 18. At 9 o'clock Father Nikolai served lunch, and I spoke a lesson on the day's Gospel and the Apostle (What is the greatest commandment in the law? An example of love is in the Apostle Paul, who put the salvation of his brothers above his own salvation). At 11 o'clock our train started moving. In front, as usual, is “anko” (this time an elderly, graying man), then we are on our solemnly performing horses. The choice was truly worthy: they, it seems, were organically incapable of trotting a single step. As luck would have it, the wind, the famous “yamase” (eastern), blew straight into our foreheads and pierced our May suits to the bone. There is nothing to cover yourself with, since the road always lies along the sandy shore near the sea. And it raged and foamed, rushed wildly onto the low-lying shore, its white ridges ran far into the sand right under the horses’ feet. These, however, didn’t care; they had even forgotten how to be afraid during their long lives. It would have been very interesting to travel, perhaps, and the picture was one of a rare kind, but it was so cold that we could only see one place where we could warm up. We traveled two ri (seven and a half miles) for two whole hours, sincerely thanking our skillful voters. We stopped for lunch at Onodera's - the main Christian house in this village. The owner himself was not at home, but even without him there was someone to receive us and warm us. On the second floor they have a very clean, neatly decorated room, with images, a prayer table, a three-candlestick and liturgical books. Here the catechist, and without him Onodera himself, performs divine services on holidays. They gave us shelter in this room too. How nice it was to sit down at the hibazi filled with red coals! Having had lunch, we began to pack further, horrified at the thought that we would have to travel in the wind for as much as six miles, and by the evening it promised to be even colder. Fortunately, our fears for the most part turned out to be in vain: having crossed a fairly wide river on a ferry, we drove further under the mountain, the elevation of the cape hid us from the wind, and it was no longer so cold, at least the wind did not cut to the bones. We pass several villages, there are “mnya” everywhere (there are no Buddhist temples in sight). There are fisheries along the shore, now inactive. There are large fishing boats, pulled ashore and covered with straw and reeds: from a distance it is difficult to distinguish them from a hut. Not far from the shore, a small steamer huddled sadly; it is impossible to approach Wakkanai, and he does not have enough strength to go to the open sea. But here is the lighthouse, and with it the northernmost tip of Japan. On the other side of the strait the mountains of Sakhalin were clearly visible, only thirty miles away. According to stories, almost every year prisoners move here by boat. One day a party of thirty people arrived. They, of course, would be arrested immediately on the shore and sent to Hakodate or Ekohama to the Russian consul. He keeps them in a Japanese prison until the opportunity arises, and then sends them through Vladivostok again to Sakhalin. Behind the lighthouse, under the mountain, the village of Siri-usu stretches in one order. There are four Orthodox here: the Matsumoto house (husband, wife and son) and also the school teacher Luke. All of them were baptized far away in the flock of Japan and moved here for work, Matsumoto for several years, and Luka not so long ago. They live here completely alone, even the priest has not yet visited them because of the local winds and cold. We walked for a long time through the village to the board in which Matsumoto served. Luka also happened to be there, who then led us back almost to the very entrance to the village, where there was a brand new house, the meeting place of the local temperance society. This house stood empty (since they met once a month, and there was not a single member in the village), and our Christians prepared an overnight stay for us in it. Inside, the house was a spacious oblong room, lined with new tatami mats, but, of course, without any furniture, except for a small closet (also known as a pulpit for the speaker) and two unpainted coal boxes. They immediately brought two hibazis, lit the coal, and we felt warm and comfortable, although the wind penetrated through the thin walls and poor frames of the European-made windows. The owner of the neighboring inn took upon herself all the troubles regarding our food and overnight accommodation. Before we had time to fully recover from the cold, she had already brought dinner, having exhausted all her culinary art on it. I even cooked salted whale oil with some kind of sour sauce. It was, of course, impossible not to honor such efforts and not eat, although, admittedly, whale oil is not as good for food as for lubricating boots or heating. Luka sat with us all the time, treating us and talking. He is a man in his early thirties, undoubtedly a sincere believer, only soft as wax, and therefore sometimes carried away by the example of others. Something happened to him, and now he was under the priest's penance (here they are strict about this). After talking with the “simpu,” our Luka softened (there was reason to suspect that they sat on the board not only over tea) and even cried, asking permission to confess and receive communion. But “simpu” put it off until next time. After dinner, the Matsumoto family came and we all decided to pray together. Immediately Matsumoto brought his icon from home in the icon case, the cabinet replaced the altar; They placed the gospel, the cross, etc. on it. Father Nikolai, putting on a veil, began to serve vespers, and I replaced the choir (since none of the Christians knew how to sing). Our pilgrims prayed diligently and joyfully: it had been so long since they had heard or seen their own divine service. There was no one besides us, and no one could listen outside: from outside only the wind howled, from time to time shaking our temporary shelter. September 19. We stayed in Siri-usu until noon. Luka took us around the whole village, it seems more to show us to all his friends. We visited him at school. There is an icon hanging in his small room, but it is covered with a curtain: the authorities have banned any appearance of Christianity, although, of course, they know very well that Luke is a Christian. The students had already gathered in the classroom and were peering through the door with curiosity. Luke showed us to them too. Having put on his “hakamy” (wide trousers that are worn over a robe), without them you are not supposed to enter the classroom or go to the service in general, Luka led us into the classroom and commanded the students to stand up and bow. According to him, everyone here in the village is very interested in our arrival. Some time ago a general came here, then Admiral Ito came here recently; both of them carefully examined all these places in case of war with Russia. After them I appeared; well, therefore, this one also came for the same purpose, only, of course, from the Russian side. Therefore, it was necessary to walk around the village so that everyone would notice that we had no special plans. This kind of ridiculous suspicion is starting to get boring. We also went to the board of directors to visit the boss. He was just a local peasant, quite wealthy at one time, and the government entrusted him with keeping the post office here and performing other official duties. He is a special person, striving for fame. With his active participation, a sobriety society was established and maintained here, although he himself has nothing to do with sobriety. We talked with him about Christianity and Russia, I advised him to read about Christianity (however, he often heard about this from Luke and Matsumoto). Maybe later he will take this more seriously, although there is little hope: a man carried away by emptiness. At three and a half o'clock in the evening we were already back in Kotoi in Onodera's house. This time the hosts persuaded us to stay overnight; by the way, the next day was a holiday: we could pray together and perform a festive service. Onodera's son-in-law, Vasily, replaced the absent owner. He, too, is apparently a good Christian, caring about spreading the faith. This, however, is natural: being alone among a pagan society, of course, is difficult; the thought will involuntarily come to look for others with whom you could share your faith and hope and find mutual support and encouragement. Currently, there are ten Orthodox Christians in Koyotoi: seven people - the Onodera house (including two orphan boys after their brother), two spouses and another 16-17 year old boy, the son of a pagan. But of this number, only six people were present, the others were away (in Tokyo, Sapporo, etc.). In addition, an architect who was building a bridge across the nearby river temporarily lived in Onodera’s house. At one time he was a catechist and graduated from our seminary (he knows enough Russian). Now he and his young wife (daughter of Abe Gregory from Sapporo) had been living with Onodera for a long time. There is another Christian woman here, married to a pagan. She is the daughter of one of the very first Christians, also named Onodera, and was even born, it seems, into Christianity. But they did not pay enough attention to her Christian upbringing (the catechists did not start Sunday schools at that time, busy converting new believers), and now, after the death of her father, she completely lagged behind the church. She has lived here for a long time, but has never come to this Christian house, despite repeated invitations and notifications about worship. She was also notified before our arrival, they sent for her this time too, but the answer was still the same: “I’m busy with household chores, I can’t come, but if you want to say anything, I’ll send my husband, tell him.” This is how dangerous it is to leave Christian children without proper teaching in the midst of a pagan society. If possible, we served a festive all-night vigil - tomorrow is the Nativity of the Mother of God. I served, and even improvised the magnification, perhaps not quite smoothly translating the Slavic speech into Japanese and reproducing the chant quite freely. The architect, his wife and family sang. I then gave a lesson about the virtuous and harmonious family life of Joachim and Anna; agreement is achieved by the fact that both of them considered God highest and most precious and always remembered that they walked before His eyes. In addition to our Orthodox Christians, one pagan was also present at the service, along with Onodera the oldest settler of this place. He came with his little son and then talked to us for quite a long time about Christianity. Thanks to Onodera's influence, obviously, a deep interest in faith was awakened in his soul. He had already expressed a desire to listen to the teaching regularly; with God's help, he will come to church. In general, the village of Koetoi shows great promise for the future. People are constantly arriving here, the importance of the village is rising, and over time the railway should pass here, then this village will surpass Wakkanai. The people here are becoming more settled and at the same time still free from the traditions of old Japan; wonderfully favorable soil is formed for preaching and church. Onodera is planning to build a kwaidoo here, especially since you can get a piece of land from the government for free (under the condition that you must build something on it immediately, otherwise the land will be taken away). If only the catechist is diligent, there will always be listeners. September 20. We served mass and, having waited in vain for the rain to stop, set off again on horseback to Wakkanai. The wind was the same, the sea was even more furious, showering us with splashes, and on top of all this, rain poured down, which soon soaked everything that we were wearing. The journey had completely ceased to be pleasant, and we were traveling at yesterday’s pace. Only halfway through the journey I finally could not stand it and, leaving my companion, Fr. Nicholas, galloped forward: there was nothing left for me to get wet anymore. It’s not easy at home at the hotel either. The wind shakes the house itself and raises the ash from our “hibatsi” in a column. Cold and uncomfortable. Everything on the streets died out. The worst thing was that there was nothing to think about the ship, and with it, there was nothing to think about leaving here. It turned out that Fukagawa was the second edition. It was necessary to sit, literally, by the sea and wait for the weather. September 21. We are sitting. Rain and wind all day. The sea is still roaring, everything is white with foam. September 22. We are sitting. The rain has stopped; the wind seems quieter, but the sea is the same. Finally, about two o’clock, our friend “Seiryu-maru” appeared at the roadstead. We hastily got ready, but for about an hour we talked with the Christians who had come about the church, about the need for them to maintain it themselves, about finding students for the catechist, etc. Having said goodbye to everyone on the pier, Father Nikolai and I boarded a large longboat and jumped on the waves for a long, long time: the steamer this time stood even further than before. We left at four o'clock. We went again to Revun and Oshitoma-ri, where we stopped for the night. September 23. Today at dawn we handed over the mail and at about 7 o’clock we were already in Oniwaki (“they” means the devil, “waki” means side), and at 8 o’clock we set off further. A strong, contrary wind was blowing, the waves were huge, and the sea was spreading more and more. I spent some time on deck, and in the cabin, on the bunk, according to the Eastern proverb: “It is better to sit than to stand, and it is better to lie down than to sit.” But soon the rocking subsided; Half an hour before dinner I went up on deck: the sun was shining from behind, the waves were favorable. What kind of parable? We walk along some familiar shore. “Is this Yagishiri?” I ask the captain. “No, Rishiri; now we’ll get to Oshitomari.” We returned, therefore, from where we left this morning. So, of course, you won’t go far. In Oshitomari, there were several other small ships with us, including one white Russian one, which makes voyages near Sakhalin. We all timidly huddled behind the original Oshitomari rock and again waited and sat idle. September 24. Early in the morning we took off again and went. This time everything turned out well, although I had to again follow the wise Eastern proverb. At 11 o'clock we were in Masik. In the second hour we left from there and, having gone around the majestic Cape Vofui (Melespina), headed along Stroganov Bay almost directly south to Otaru. The weather soon improved, the wind died down and, despite the evening, it became warmer. A little before eight o'clock we were in Otaru. It was already completely dark; lights were burning in the roadstead and in the city. It didn’t take long for the constant “banto” in their colorful costumes to appear, and with their help we get down into the boat and in the darkness we go to a distant shore, passing the vaguely blackened masses of numerous ships sparkling with rare lights. Christians were already waiting for us on the shore (a telegram had been sent from Wakkanai), they sorted out our luggage and then led us for a long time through the dark streets of the city. Finally, we turn into an alley and hear our Orthodox singing: a Sunday all-night vigil was going on in the prayer house. The doors stood open, crossed flags were drawn above them in the dark (on the occasion of the holiday), two people stood in front of the doors, obviously strangers. We enter a very large room where about 40 Christians had gathered, many, especially the elderly, were sitting in Japanese style on the floor; a small choir led by a catechist sang quite harmoniously: “I have seen the Resurrection of Christ.” The chapel is arranged in the form of a church: there is a throne, an altar, even something similar to an iconostasis, that is, a dark blue curtain separates the altar from the rest of the church. We went straight to the altar. Father Nicholas put on his vestments and began to continue the service, but at the end I addressed the Christians with a welcoming speech on the text “Peace be with you” (a person who has found Christ finds eternal grace-filled peace, he is not afraid for the future, in the present he sees the providential Hand of God everywhere, his soul rests in unchanging hope, he no longer needs to seek or strive. Let the world worry, let it take up arms against the righteous, it cannot take from the soul of this peace in God. It is this peace that the Lord commanded the apostles to proclaim and send down). After talking with Christians and getting to know each of them, I looked at the metrics. This church has existed only recently, only about seven years. Until then, believers lived separately, keeping their faith in their families, but not revealing it publicly (many did not even know each other). Many of them hid icons, placing idols in prominent places: all this was out of fear for the sake of the pagans. Everyone knew that Christians lived in Otaru, but who exactly and where was unknown. Is it by chance that one of the believers will notice an Orthodox icon in someone else’s house and realize that he has come to a fellow believer? Thus began an acquaintance between previously unknown fellow believers. Both sides, of course, were glad to meet a fellow believer, and sometimes get together and pray together. However, there was one very sad exception: one of the Orthodox came to be photographed and, according to the custom among our Christians, hung his pectoral cross on his chest over his dress. Only many years later, when a church opened here and a catechist settled, did this Christian learn that the photographer was Orthodox. I was afraid, therefore, to admit my faith. About seven years ago, Rev. Nikolai with Fr. Arseny. Then it was decided to give Otaru a special catechist, and Pavel Matsumoto from Sapporo was transferred. When he came here, his first task was to gather the scattered sheep into one flock. This encouraged them all; having united together, they were no longer afraid of the pagans, they openly gathered with their “sensei” for prayer, for meetings, and visited each other. The church began to live its own life and, as such, began to attract new members from the pagans. During these seven years, 75 people were baptized in Otaru, 30 of them died or moved to other churches, 5 were “reitan”, 3 were unknown, and two turned out to be completely apostate. They were baptized in just the th month of this year. When did they have time to fall away?! The catechist is embarrassed, but must admit that they fell away almost immediately after baptism. They have, he says, very strong relatives and all are evil pagans, but the newly baptized (husband and wife) are simple, unlearned people, and that is why they did not resist. Here is a sad example of hasty baptism! They were not tested, somehow they were only brought to the point of agreeing to be baptized, and then, by the way, a priest who rarely visited them, they were baptized. Their hearts were not at all ready, perhaps, like Simon the Magus, they expected some kind of magic from baptism (for example, to look younger or get rich), or even just a cash handout, and such cases happened in missionary practice. The fault, of course, is the catechist and the recipients, who did not try to properly determine the spiritual mood of those being baptized. Currently, there are 88 Orthodox people in Otaru: of these, there are about forty-odd communicants per year; very few people gather for divine services, at most 20, usually five or a little more. There is no Sunday school mainly because there is no person among Christians who could help the catechist in this matter. The external impression, as we see, from this church was the most unfavorable; some zealot, perhaps, would doubt the sincerity of the conversion to Christ of all the local Christians... No, such a conclusion would be unfair: the local Christians are not accustomed to church order, but they firmly hold the Orthodox faith and, in their own way, are zealous for their church. Each of them, as far as possible, donates something to the church, they are always ready to respond to any church need: in the same way, they do not leave their catechist without help: some will bring a new dress for him or for the children (and he has a lot of children), some shoes, and some just rice or fish for the holiday. Even in other, apparently more serviceable churches, there is no such responsiveness. True, here too the responsive ones are predominantly those who go to divine services regularly. September 25. Sunday. Fr. Nicholas served as a liturgist, and I preached a sermon on the daily Gospel (John 3:13–18) “About Christ, our only Savior and Healer from all the wounds of the devil (by the way, about the need for communion).” There were the same number of people as yesterday, only the faces were all new: yesterday’s people must have been housekeepers. By the way, there was one Christian woman, Maria, who secretly ran away from her husband to church. Her husband is a wealthy and even educated man, but he does not love Christianity to the extreme and therefore in every possible way prevents his wife from being a Christian. She, however, still withstands his attacks and does not renounce her faith. Christian women also support her, visit her, invite her to their house, and by this roundabout route she ends up in church: and this time she asked her husband for leave with one Christian woman. She wanted to confess and take communion, but she couldn’t come to the all-night vigil today, her husband wouldn’t let her go to mass tomorrow. There was nothing to do, she had to be excused from the all-night vigil: it was better to receive communion at least without the all-night vigil than to be left without communion altogether. Moreover, it is still unknown whether she will be able to receive communion on Fr.’s next visit. Nicholas. For Russians, it may seem very unusual to receive such communion without preparation, but not everywhere you can demand everything; here in Japan there is no custom at all to fast, that is, to go to all church services for a week or so, and there is no daily service anywhere. They receive communion when the priest arrives, and the entire fast is limited to the all-night vigil on the eve of communion. But, as you see, even this little turns out to be impossible under our special living conditions. In the evening we served with Fr. Nicholas, a solemn all-night vigil with the removal of the cross (which Fr. Nicholas himself had never seen before, not to mention Christians). Then I gave a sermon on finding St. The Cross and the meaning for us of this tangible evidence of Christ's suffering (dondezhe light imate)... There were up to 30 people, including four adults preparing for baptism tomorrow. September 26. In the morning, six people were baptized, including 2 babies (the daughter of a catechist). Three adults - all from the same house: father, mother and younger brother of one of the best Christians here, Boris Ono. Boris himself, his wife and all their many children have long been Christians, they are all remarkably zealous for the faith, and are always ready to make donations. It has been their long-standing desire to enlighten the light of Christ to their elderly parents and brother, who live with them. Thank God, now this wish has come true, it was fun to look at this friendly family now, even more united. The fourth person to be baptized is the son of the Christian Matthew Saito, a young man of about 20, who was to be married to a Christian woman this afternoon. After the baptism, mass was celebrated in a cathedral congregation. All the newly enlightened received Holy Communion. Tain. Instead of the sacrament, the catechist took out some yellowed folios and began to edify those present from them, outlining the story of the discovery of the Cross. I note this feature that caught my eye because the Japanese are generally great lovers of speaking and are able to speak at any time and as much as they want, without even being particularly embarrassed by the lack of content. It is generally not customary to speak from a notebook, especially one that has turned yellow, especially for an old catechist. The crowd gathered again, quite a lot here, there were many children who didn’t even go to government school for the sake of the holiday, which is already a big donation for our Christians. The wedding was supposed to begin at two o'clock, so almost all of our pilgrims remained waiting in the church house, gathered in circles near the hibatsi and talking among themselves and with the newly baptized. Soon the groom appeared, dressed to the nines, in wide hakama, with large white coats of arms on the back and on the sleeves. The bride was wearing a long kimono, the hem of which trailed on the ground. The kimono, and especially the belt, were full of bright colors, and the hair on the head was dressed in the most bizarre way that only the Japanese can do it. The wedding was performed, of course, in the same way as in Russia, even the strange custom of not putting on crowns, but only holding them over the heads of those getting married, somehow took root here and spread (although the same Father Nikolai expressed to me his bewilderment about this custom). A remarkable coincidence: in the Japanese pagan wedding ceremony there is also a common cup, only there the newlyweds drink it nine times, and we have three. In 500 years, maybe there will be a scientist who will explain this coincidence by borrowing... The custom of mutual kissing caused a lot of trouble: the newlyweds had to explain for a long time how to put their lips together and what to do with them; both the priest and the catechist, with pursed and extended lips, very seriously held the young people by the backs of their heads and tried to bring their faces together for a kiss, and the young people, not understanding what they wanted from them, naively backed away from one another. The Japanese don't have kisses; even parents don't kiss their children. Having finished the wedding, Fr. Nicholas spoke for about forty minutes about the meaning and properties of the Christian family, the image and ideal of which is given to us in the union of Christ with the Church (Christ laid down his life for the Church, and this latter, for its part, does not cease to lay down its life for Christ: martyrs, ascetics, etc.). He spoke very edifyingly and eloquently, and in conclusion he wished that wonderful people would come from this union for the benefit of the church and the Japanese state. Having congratulated the newlyweds, the Christians began to go home, and Fr. Nicholas, the catechist and four witnesses were invited to the groom's house to celebrate the wedding. The room was decorated for the celebration, new, shiny “tatami” were laid out, gilded screens were placed, expensive “kakemono” were placed on the walls, ugly dwarf trees flaunted on an honorable dais, new “hibatzis” were filled with white ash. We sat in two rows on round “zabutons”, both the parents and the young man himself sat down, and his new mistress began to serve us food and treat us. They are the simplest people, artisans, but for the sake of their son’s wedding, they too dressed up; half of the things that decorated the rooms were probably taken from neighbors and other kind people for this day. After lunch Fr. Nikolai went straight to the station: he needed to go to Sapporo for something, but the catechist took me, before it was dark, to the houses of Christians. First of all, we visited the photographer I mentioned above. He is a very good photographer, perhaps the second best in Japan, but he is far from the best Christian; he never shows up to church, even on Easter; there are no icons in his house, and he is somehow reluctant to approach the blessing. According to the catechist, there is some special reason for such alienation from the church, he was almost even removed. We went to the recently baptized carpenter Job: he was not at home, his wife was a pagan; In the shop, an icon hangs in a place of honor, although it is hidden from prying eyes by a curtain. The next house is Dr. Shibuya: he himself, his wife and three daughters are all zealous visitors to worship services, the girls sing in the church choir for the main ones, in the same way, in donations for church needs, this house is now ahead of others. Meanwhile, there was a time when in this very house, “for fear of the Jews,” there were idols, and Christianity was hidden in every possible way and the instructions of the church were not fulfilled, and this was so until the catechist came to Otaru. This example shows how one should not rush to put an end to careless Christians, who apparently have forgotten their faith and baptismal vows. Who knows, maybe they too, under the influence of circumstances, that is, the providence of God, will come to life again and will be “vessels of honor.” The fourth house visited is Takezawa: husband, wife and child, poor people, but good Christians, although daily labor prevents them from being good in the church. September 27. We visited the other 5 houses in Otaru and, by the way, visited Boris Ono. He himself was not at home, but we were received with no less cordiality by his wife Seraphima, a very talkative, efficient woman, an excellent Christian. She, apparently, maintains the entire church structure of her family, because her husband is often absent. Her four small children, all devoutly crossing themselves, perfectly remember their Christian names, even the smallest of them knew that his “totsyan” (“ototsan”, dad) in the church is called Boris. Seraphima immediately bombarded the “sensei” (catechist) with various orders: to order a good icon for her in Tokyo, to get prayer books, and on the way she told us all the church news that she had just read in our “Orthodox Bulletin” and which we had known for a long time. A little later, the old man came - Boris's father, who had been baptized yesterday: he quietly rejoiced at his enlightenment, from which he had so stubbornly turned away for a long time. Just before dinner, I had to see another picture: the husband was a stubborn pagan Shintoist, or rather, he had forgotten everything for the sake of profit. Thinking that Inari-san will always give him a good profit, he clings to this Inari-san and does not want to hear about anything. The catechist tells him about God, about the eternal salvation of the soul, but he only smiles roguishly: maybe all this is true, but not so profitable, “have me renounced.” The wife is an old Christian who knows the faith very well; She would willingly go to church to pray and listen to a sermon, but her husband does not even allow her to pray in a Christian way at home. It’s especially bad that this pagan is trying in every possible way to wean his pupil, a Christian boy of 15–16 years old, from Christianity: he doesn’t let him go to church, he doesn’t let him see Christians, and he doesn’t let his wife tell him anything about Christianity. And so the catechist has to hover around this rude, overfed man in order to somehow maintain acquaintance with him and thus at least occasionally visit his flock. We sat for a quarter of an hour, speaking pleasantries to our arrogant host and trying in every possible way to persuade him to be more lenient towards the faith of his wife and pupil, at least not to interfere with their being Christians at home. It was sad and heavy in our souls when we left this house. After lunch we went to Temia. Previously it was a separate city, but now it has completely merged with Otaru, even administratively, although it lies in another province. Both cities stretched continuously along the seashore, squeezed between the sea and the surrounding mountains. People keep arriving, industry and trade are developing here, life is becoming cramped. A few years will pass, and here will be perhaps the most populous and richest city in all of Eso. We have 9 Christian houses in Temia. About two years ago they also had a special prayer house, and the catechist took turns performing all-night vigil and mass in both. But then this order was recognized as inconvenient, and it was expensive to maintain two houses of worship for a relatively small church. Now everyone is coming together. With a few exceptions, all the Christians were at home and everyone received us cordially. Two or three of them were baptized in Hakodate at the very beginning of Japanese Christianity and, what is especially important, they were always faithful to Christ, although they lived far from the church, among pagans. At the request of these houses, it was decided to have a catechist and a separate church in Otaru. In one of these houses, the Christians prepared dinner for the “sensei” and me, during which they entertained us with stories about their first days in Otaru, how they lived here, not knowing each other and hiding (though not all of them) from the pagans. The owner was a “gi-yuu,” that is, an elder in the church; naturally, the conversation turned to church affairs. Christians wanted to somehow arrange the funeral of their co-religionists in a more solemn way: Buddhists are buried very solemnly, Shintoists too, but our Christians have nothing like that: no magnificent tomb, no flags, no lanterns. When a priest accompanies, at least he goes in vestments, they carry an altar cross, etc. But there is not always a priest, one catechist in ordinary clothes goes without him, the coffin is carried on a simple stretcher, to top it all off, someone in Tokyo told them that it is not proper to carry out the cross without a priest, only a lantern is allowed, so they did, of course, wondering themselves, what does a lantern have to do with it when there is no cross. They really wanted to arrange all this somehow, so that the pagans would not despise our funerals, would not say that we were sending our dead away exactly what kind of goods. They have already bought a good cover, they have an external cross, a lantern, I advised them to arrange a good stretcher with decorations, with a canopy, I promised to lobby in Tokyo so that their catechist would be allowed to wear a surplice in such cases. In Russia, perhaps, such worries would seem vain, but here, with the Chinese worldview, which has reigned for centuries in all strata of society, the question of funerals is not at all an empty question: many, very many will judge faith by how believers treat their dead, especially since almost only in funerals does one or another faith appear openly before the eyes of non-believers. Therefore, the enemies of Christianity very often spread various absurdities about our burial (for example, that Christians crucify their dead). Christians also complained that the “simpu” (priest) rarely visits them, although the drive from Sapporo is only 2 hours, and, moreover, he never serves their liturgy, being content with mass, and giving communion to those who are fasting with spare Gifts. It must be admitted that such abuse of spare Gifts is indeed deeply rooted here. Previously, this was quite natural and excusable: where can one think about the non-empty celebration of the liturgy, when it was not possible to get flour everywhere, not to mention the fact that the person serving the liturgy himself had to knead and bake (in a saucepan on a brazier)? But this blessed guilt has now become an excuse: now in almost every decent town there is a baker who, after some practice, usually learns very well how to bake prosphora. You just need to order in advance. But... it is easier to serve the celebrant, therefore the impossibility of preparing prosphora and celebrating the Liturgy with sufficient solemnity involuntarily comes to the fore, and the believers receive communion with spare Gifts. This is a great temptation specific to missionary service and how easy it is to succumb to it, especially since an obliging mind will always find a suitable reason to justify such indulgences. And so the liturgy will be celebrated only in the missionary’s main apartment, then only when he has communicants; and then these communicants can be given communion with reserve gifts, and the liturgy can be celebrated only when the supply is depleted, that is, ten times a year, or even less. Needless to say, what a loss this is for the spiritual life of a person, especially a priest, and great harm for the church: where there is no public Eucharist, there, strictly speaking, there is no church, there communion becomes an exclusively personal, private matter, done when I need it and without any relation to my living and dead fellow believers. Moreover, where there is no liturgy, there is no communion for infants, and our Church rightly boasts of this communion, fulfilling the commandment of the Lord. Remembering this, our Christians always grieve that their infants are deprived of the greatest of the sacraments, and they always wish to give the infant a farewell message at least before death. Thus, we have to refuse Christians their most legitimate request. It is, of course, difficult to refuse, and this is where the new abuse comes from: they put a particle of the spare Gifts into unconsecrated red wine and introduce the wine to babies, sometimes even saying: “Honest Blood”... Of course, this cannot be tolerated, because this is not the Blood of Christ, but simple wine... And so it is always: for some very solid reasons a small deviation is made, it soon becomes a recognized fact, it is followed by abuse, followed by another, etc. Non-service of the liturgy can very reasonably be justified by the desire to deliver a better sermon, to explain some dogma or gospel commandment. Meanwhile, having strengthened himself with prayer, communion, and having risen spiritually, the priest will say the sermon much better, more convincingly, because he will speak from the treasure of his heart, and not from books and sermons that he has ever had to read on this issue. Therefore, we have to do our best to persuade our priests to celebrate the liturgy more often and, if possible, everywhere, without making excuses by the lack of a splendid place: every house of prayer is almost always clean and decent for celebrating the liturgy (every priest has a portable antimension). Having talked enough with the Christians and thanked them for the treat, we moved on and after a few houses we went to a solitary Christian, Isidore Katahira. He was baptized only recently and after long delays, because he had some kind of unforgivable shortcoming for a Christian. Now he is in “reitan”: he doesn’t go to church, he doesn’t even see an icon in his room. The first reason for such negligence was evident in the form of my wife looking at us fiercely, but this alone cannot explain everything. The catechist and I began to convince him to be more attentive to his life, to remember baptism, and urged his wife to listen to the teaching. But everything was like peas against the wall, our listeners only bowed rather coldly, and Isidore, moreover, still insisted that he knew nothing about my arrival and therefore could not be present in the church house at the meeting and during the service. The scene turned out to be quite difficult, and therefore we did not drag it out as much as possible. The catechist promised to come again soon, and we, having somehow said goodbye, with a constricted heart, went home. September 28. In the morning we received a letter from yesterday’s Isidore: “Since I have served God poorly before and since I was not honored to be present at the prayer with simpu, and for other reasons, I am leaving the faith. Please let all Christians know this." I begin to question the catechist more urgently, and he must admit that Isidore has been abandoned for a long time: Christians are alienated from him for violation of marital fidelity, the catechist himself has not visited him for a long time, and he has never been a “simpu” at all; even his godfather stopped caring about him, so no one informed Isidore about my arrival. Of course, Isidore is not leaving the church because he was offended by this lack of notification, but it’s still not good that an extra reason was given. If a catechist and a priest had visited him, if they had taken proper care of him, perhaps Isidore would have survived; my unexpected visit, of course, could only anger him. The catechist strenuously promised to take care of Isidore and, if possible, return him to the church again. Any correction is very difficult, but, God willing, Isidore will be able to break the shackles of sin and come again to Christ, in whom he once sincerely believed. In the afternoon we visited the remaining two houses, visited the cemetery, which stretched over the city along the slope of the mountain, and admired the wonderful view of the city and the roadstead from there. In the city we passed by Protestant prayer houses. There are two of them in Otaru: Methodists and the so-called Church of Christ. There are no Catholics here, with the possible exception of individuals. The catechist assured me that the Methodists were not successful either. However, such assurances must be believed unconditionally. Returning to the church house, they found Fr. Nicholas, who had just arrived from Sapporo. The mysterious reason for his emergency trip was also explained to us; he brought himself a warm kimono (and more than one), a warm “haori”, a drape winged coat with a fur collar and, above all, a fur Eskimo hat with earflaps. This means seriously preparing for the journey ahead. It was all over in Otaru, so we began to get ready to set off; by the way, the steamer was leaving in the evening. O. Nikolai, who had the same prejudice against sea travel as against horse riding, began to frighten us with various sea fears: the ship is very small, and there are no amenities on it, and it won’t leave today, they only lure passengers, it’s not better to spend the night here and go on a stagecoach in the morning, although we’ll travel the whole day, but much more likely. But we already lost a lot of time, and the prospect of shaking all day along a dusty road in some kind of rudvan was far from attractive, so we still preferred this time the fickle rush of water. At 6 o'clock in the evening some of the Christians gathered, prayed together, said goodbye and then went in the dark with the whole crowd to the pier. The night was moonlit, clear, the sea was mirror-like, we got into the boat and sailed on our “Si-ri-bisi maru”, and the Christians waved their lanterns to us from the shore and for a long time in the silence of the night we heard their “sayo-nara”. The ship turned out to be, indeed, very small: only 70–80 tons, there were no separate cabins on it, only at the stern there was a common room for the “clean” public, to which they agreed to include us and the “simpu”. It was a semicircular cabin with narrow wicker sofas all around; those who came earlier and were not afraid of falling during the swing were placed on the sofa, while others, less happy or less courageous, were located on the floor in Japanese style on the “tatami”. I laid out my cassock, oh. Nikolay, a flannelette blanket, next to us at the feet and at the heads, across and along the cabin other “clean” ones occupied places, and soon the cramped cabin was filled with reclining people. It soon became stuffy, but, in fact, that was the extent of our inconvenience: it was possible to lie down, although it was not spacious. True, if there was a rocking, we would have to test the position of the cereal in the sieve. I was about to go out on deck to admire the beautiful night and the view of Otaru, but I didn’t walk around for long: the steamer was probably built on the model of some large one and was only proportionally reduced; If on that one for a canvas awning there were posts a sazhen high, then on this one they were set at two arshins. In general, it turned out, perhaps, very proportionately, but my head was sticking up and I had to walk, bent low and constantly afraid of hitting the rungs. Involuntarily, he abandoned both the moon and the picturesque Otaru and went down to his anthill to while away a sleepless night. At about 10 o'clock or so, "Siri-bisi maru", despite the intimidation of Fr. Nicholas!, weighed anchor and slowly went out to sea; Tomorrow morning we will be in Ivanai. September 29. In our cabin it was dark and stuffy, we could hear the heavy breathing of those sleeping or the low talk of those awake, and even the propeller, shuddering, led its endless song. We have rounded Cape Novosiltsev and are walking almost directly south along the coast. At first everything is quiet and safe, but the wind can be heard getting stronger, the ship is not moving smoothly anymore, the imagination begins to picture our cabin while rocking... We hear that they have dropped anchor. One of those who were awake went upstairs and from there brought not particularly comforting news: the excitement was intensifying and our steamer would remain here until it calmed down. We landed in Sakazuki. Fortunately, this news turned out to be wrong: after a while the propeller began to knock again and we again in our dark cabin began to await the consequences of the pitching, which either subsided or intensified again. Finally, in the darkness, the portholes (in land language, windows) became visible with a faint glow. Thank God it's dawn! I find my boots (the cabin is designed in Japanese and requires Japanese etiquette) and, holding them in my hands, I maneuver with difficulty towards the door, trying not to step on any of the sleeping people. It was cold and unwelcoming at the top. A strong onshore wind was blowing, our steamer leaned pathetically on its right side and somehow trampled its 5-6 knots right under the shore. We walked along majestic green mountains that rose in peaks in places. A village was burning on the shore, and smoke was spreading far, far across the sea, the dark waves of which were beginning to turn slightly purple. The glow of the fire was already fading, and dawn was rising from behind the mountains. It was not far from Ivanai, about 2 hours’ walk. I didn’t want to go back down to the smokehouse, but the wind just bit me to the bone. You hide behind the wheelhouse, but it is also built according to proportions, and my head remains outside, and I have to hold my hat. At almost 6 o'clock we arrived in Ivanai, a small town located along the coast under the terrible slopes of the famous Cape Raiden. The view was picturesque, but due to the cold and wind we were now not at all interested in views. The steamer rocked, the gangplank creaked on its hinges and banged against the side, and a fragile boat bounced helplessly below. Wind, cold, salty spray... Somehow we got into the boat (me in a May hat, Father Nikolai in a fur hat with earmuffs)... It’s good that we, as noble foreigners, were put in the boat before others. An old catechist, also in a warm hat, and two Christian men were waiting for us on the shore. After the first greetings, mutual recommendations and condolences about the weather and other things, we went to church. The town was still sleeping. Here and there, owners who had just woken up were shudderingly removing their night shutters or doors or diligently brushing their teeth. The church house is completely overgrown with either hops or wild grapes, so that the “kamban” (signs) are almost invisible. Two small windows peer out blindly through the greenery. An old man and an old woman, our catechist and his wife live here. They don't have children, but they have parasites and a whole herd of chickens in the backyard. Both parasites and chickens are a means to increase the meager catechetical budget. It is interesting that Christians generally look with disapproval on such extraneous activities of catechists: it is not proper for a church minister to indulge in huckstering. As a result, the catechist in Otaru was forced to give up such a chicken business. However, it must be said that, as everywhere else on earth, such fundamental objections are raised against those with whom there are reasons to be dissatisfied. Soon after our arrival, almost all the local Christians gathered in the church: about six men, two women and 5-6 children (not counting the catechist). At about eight o'clock the mass service began. I served, the catechist perfectly read the Apostle, the Blessed, etc. (later I learned that he always reads the same thing). But, my God, who is it that is tearing up the throat so mercilessly in the choir, confusing and covering everyone up? The voice is wild, crackling, either male or female, no tone, no notes, but a lot of courage and zeal; instead of the usual “Bless the Lord my soul,” such a roulade that even a Greek psalt would be envious. I turn around - it’s “Okka-san” herself and is so passionate about her singing that it’s funny to watch from the outside, but it’s a pity to stop: she’s too sincerely zealous. After mass, I said greetings and teachings for the day's Apostle Eph. IV, 14–17. Only 18 Orthodox people currently live in Ivanai. But four of them - the family of the catechist himself (with parasites), two houses (8 people) only recently, two months ago, moved here from Otaru. There are only two baptized people in Ivanai itself, and only most recently. In general, this place is still somehow asleep, which is to blame, according to Fr. Nikolai, the local “sensei”, who, together with his “okka-san,” was too keen on various business enterprises. However, now there is some hope for a brighter future for this church: the two houses that moved from Otaru are distinguished by their special zeal for the church and zeal for spreading the faith among others. God willing, the local “sensei” will also rise to his feet. At about three o'clock in the afternoon we went to the Christian houses, of which there are only four. First of all, the house of a former catechist, now a clerk. The wife and child were baptized, but the rest of the house: brothers, sisters, etc. - no, this is not a particularly good sign, especially for a former catechist. However, it is also good that with the cessation of church services he did not break off relations with the church at all, and this latter, unfortunately, is not uncommon. Neither his wife nor himself were at home; one of his brothers received us either unkindly or indifferently. He showed us around, showed us the Christian’s room, showed us the icon on the wall and left: this is yours, do what you want. Let's go further to John Imadat, a young merchant who recently received baptism in Ivanai. His old mother and her wife are evil, despicable Buddhists. A whole storm arose in the house when they learned that John was converting to Christianity. But John was not afraid, received baptism and began to persuade them to follow his example, even (can this be tolerated)? sold the luxurious shrine that had been in their house for many generations. However, nothing could be done with him: after the death of his father, he is considered the head of the house, at dinner he sits higher than his mother, on the street he walks ahead of her, he gets the first cup of rice, etc., in the end, even his mother cannot contradict him. When their child fell ill, John managed to baptize him clinically, but he could no longer bury him in a Christian way: his grandmother and mother did not allow him, but called his bonze. Today is just the 49th day after the death of a child, in Buddhist - a day of special remembrance of the deceased. While my father went to church, they called the bonze again, gathered relatives and served something. By the time we arrived, everything had already ended, the “boo-san” (bonze) and relatives had left, only the “butsudan” (goddess) stood wide open with various offerings: flatbreads, fruits, “kvasi”, a prayer book lay in front of it, the room smelled of Buddhist incense. “Butsudan,” however, was the most modest, without gilded carvings, without expensive decorations, and instead of expensive gilded idols (metal or wooden), now only a simple small “kakemono” hung with a painted Buddha in his usual sitting position... Having said hello, we sat down. The owner was embarrassed,” the mother and wife stubbornly sat near the “irori” (large brazier), looking at us from under their brows and not at all kindly. Much more is needed to soften the hearts of these apparently simple and believing women; the zeal and Christian tact of the catechist's wife are required. The icon was not visible: John himself removed it before leaving for church; he was afraid that the bonze might do something indecent towards it. It was better in the third house - Shibuya. Peter Shibuya – land surveyor; a very wealthy man and, at the same time, very zealous for the church. Wherever he was, he always attended church and was always the most efficient donor. “His house stands alone on the mountain above the city. The wind raged with terrible force, almost knocking me off my feet. But the location and view are amazing. Nearby is a plot of land intended by Peter for a future house of prayer, and perhaps even a church for the local church. Of course, these are just dreams; will they ever come true? But it’s nice to sometimes console yourself with dreams. Peter had recently become a widower, was left with three children, and now took another wife, the daughter of a zealous Christian (who had already died). The children of Peter know exactly their Christian names, they know that icons, when given, need to be kissed, etc., all this, of course, is an insignificant detail, but for us all this is a sure sign of how a person relates to his faith and church, how he raises children. The fourth house is that of Jonah Asitate, a young, hard-working mason who also recently moved from Otaru. He has only family - a wife and a little daughter. They obviously live very peacefully and in harmony, pray fervently, work a lot; the family gives the impression of a good Christian family, for which work is not burdensome. In addition, Jonah is a very smart and understanding person, he loves to read books, he loves to talk about faith, talk about it, and is not ashamed to reveal this faith in front of everyone. He is the most diligent and most useful assistant to the catechist; It seems that the local church owes some revival mainly to him. In the evening several people gathered at the church house. We sat near the hibatsi. Outside, the wind raged, threatening every minute to tear the roof off our wretched hut or topple down the “shoji” (screens covered with paper that serve instead of doors and windows) that were barely holding on. It was uncomfortable outside, but it was okay for us in the close circle... A listener came, a worker not yet old, simple-looking. “Sensei” decided to baptize him in a very short time, the listener himself also asked for baptism from Fr. Nicholas, bowing low to him. I have tested it several times. He doesn’t answer particularly briskly, but obviously he already believes. We talked with him about faith, about our salvation in Christ, about how we will live after death. He also spoke a lot about. Nikolai. I listened and listened, and I felt like I didn’t understand anything, even the words seemed unfamiliar. I hear: “Berusona.” What kind of “berusona” is this? It turns out that Fr. Nikolai began to expound to his listener one of the most difficult paragraphs of Macarius’s “Dogmatics” about the communication of properties in the person of the God-man. The Son is not the Son; the incarnate Son did not come out of the Holy One. Trinity, in one word he says: “Berusona” 9. The poor listener, in whose head not even a thought could arise about such abstract things, sat as if in a daze, with his head bowed and from time to time wiping off the sweat. He had heard about Christ before, believed that He was God, and now they wanted to explain some kind of “berusona” to him. Fortunately, the Christians soon got bored of listening to “berusona” and began to bow and say goodbye. We decided to postpone the baptism until Fr. Nicholas, and now for now they advised the listener to pray and prepare in every possible way for revival. If only this simple believer would not be scared off by the inopportunely put forward “Berusona”. We went to bed quite late with the determination to go to Kuchchan tomorrow, a village seven miles away (about 28 versts). September 30. In the morning we began to resolutely get ready for the journey: horses were ordered with lights. Christians gathered to see him off. True, we didn’t part for long: we’ll come back here again from Kuchchan, but it’s still necessary to carry out the ceremony, it’s a custom. We sat for an hour or two, began to complain several times about the wind, cold and rain, but still no horses. “Anko-san” (well done) and this time he was at the height of his calling, he was five hours late. In view of the approaching lunch hour with my companions, Fr. Nicholas and the catechist, the desire to leave had noticeably weakened, and indeed it was already late, we barely had time to get there before evening, and Christian houses there were scattered for many miles. Stayed here for another day. After dinner, Christians gathered, I told them about Rome with its catacombs, about Jerusalem; the catechist recalled his travels with Rev. Nikolai, with Fr. Arseny. Rev. Nikolai is an excellent horseman and loves to ride very fast, but our “sensei” is used to hanging out more with chickens; he feels far from free on a horse, and the horse pays little attention to him. Often in despair he had to cry out to the retreating bishop to come back and wait. With o. Arseny they crossed the terrible Raiden-zan, the mountain under which Ivanai stands. To penetrate further south, to Sutsa, you must either take a steamer or walk on foot through a pass that is rare in its difficulty. In calm weather, a small steamboat goes around this mountain, but it cannot go into the waves, there is only a dry path. You need to go up a scary steep hill. Crossing this pass is considered a feat, and until now there has been no rumor of anyone crossing it on horseback. In a storm, it is completely impassable: the wind knocks you off your feet. O. Arseny passed through safely, he only paid with his boots, but his legs could not heal for a long time. Soon they brought thick Japanese paper for “kakemono” and forced me to draw and write some sayings from memory. It is not so much the handwriting itself that is important, but its style, whether it is good or bad, it needs to be characteristic, so that the “fude” (brush) is visible. Such inscriptions are then hung in the room as decoration or put into a box, and they are then shown to guests, as we show, for example, an album with photographs. In the evening, “okka-san” and his Christian wife Shibuya spent a long time whispering among themselves about something, cutting and sewing something, and then solemnly presented me with a very long shirt with cotton wool. This is in the form of some adjustment to my unseasonably airy suit. Afterwards I thanked them very much. As you can see, we have no shortage of compassionate Christian women. October 1st. In the morning at 9 o’clock our anko appeared with four riding horses, and we (me, Father Nikolai, “sensei” and “anko”) set off. The horses, not yet tired, quickly carried us through the streets of the city, to the great chagrin of Fr. Nikolai and “sensei”, who preferred a more solid movement. Outside the city there is a beautiful, arrow-straight postal highway along which stagecoaches run to Otaru. We drive about three ri (12 versts), passing villages; You won’t even notice them: their houses are scattered across the plots of land. To the right, Raiden-zan rises in all its glory, its top now beginning to be covered with clouds: a sign of an approaching thunderstorm and rain. Three ri later - the village of Ozawa, where we leave the highway and turn onto a country road, driving through the forest, “kai-kon” (newly mined land), here and there a thatched shack, and occasionally an inn. But then the forest becomes thicker, the road begins to rise, it becomes more difficult and dirtier: we enter the large Kuchchan pass. The road zigzags up its slope, springs gush out everywhere, streams gurgle, the soil is clayey and viscous. The place would be completely uninhabited and deserted, but every now and then we come across peasants with whole caravans of horses: he himself sits cross-legged and sleeps on the front horse, another is tied to the tail of this one, etc. up to the seventh and more. They bring rice and other agricultural products. Rice, however, is still imported here, and it can hardly keep up at this altitude and in the cold. Having crossed the mountain, we enter a vast forest-covered plane, all divided into sections and little by little cultivated. Half an hour later and “Kane-dai”, a hotel whose owner and his whole family are our Christians. The catechist and priest usually stay at this hotel, and all services for the local small Orthodox community are held here. “We arrived safely, but a quarter of an hour later it started raining, oh.” Nikolai, who arrived an hour after us, could fully appreciate its charm. In Kuchchan we have seven houses, four of them are completely Christian, the rest are half Christian. All Christians – 20 people. They are scattered over such a distance that there is no way to collect them urgently. We sent a horseman to notify us of our arrival and scheduled a service in the evening (today is Saturday). The rain began to fall with terrible force, followed by hail, so large that it knocked branches off the trees. Everything that was outside was thrown under the roof. But even under the roof it was uncomfortable. The storm shook the Japanese buildings, the wind penetrated into every crevice. Our worship service turned out to be very unsuccessful: only the family gathered, and even they could hardly hear anything, the hail drummed on the wooden roof of our home, and there was no ceiling. To prevent the wind from blowing out the candles, we had to fence them off from the wall with a board, and even this did not help much, because dust flew freely through the floor towards us, and the wind whistled in all corners. And this happened all night. It was almost impossible to sleep, my limbs were numb. The worst thing is the awareness that time is being wasted and that, apparently, you will have to leave here without doing or seeing anything. October 2. Sunday. Slightly moving from the cold, we got up in the morning. Rain and hail drummed almost incessantly. The storm broke trees in the forest. Christians again could not gather for worship. Again there were only family members. After lunch it cleared up somewhat for an hour. Three Christians came, and we somehow whiled away the time until the evening, thinking with horror about the need to stay another night in this situation. It was comforting to know that the local Christians care about their church, want to build it here more firmly, and are going to build a “quaidoo” (house of prayer) with their pennies. God would give them a good catechist, but this place promises a lot in the future. Coming soon The railway will pass through Kuchchan, people will come here, and the people will have very desirable things in the church: farmers are always more permanent than others and therefore more useful for any private church. One of the listeners, a certain Taka-Hashi, also came. Previously, he lived in Ivanai and listened to the teaching and, working for the church, always took cheaper in the form of a donation. Now he is somewhat dependent on Suzuki (the owner of the hotel) and therefore does not break ties with the church. Of course, this connection is not the purest and worst, if it alone brings a person closer to Christianity, but... a person comes to Christ in different ways! Sometimes such a purely external, but prolonged contact with Christianity will ultimately make you think and thus open the way to faith. October 3. The morning was bad again, but it was impossible to sit idle in Guchchan any longer. We left with a shame. Fortunately, it was only stormy in the mountains: below there was only wind. We got to Ivanai without any special adventures. Just outside the city we met a Shinto procession. In front, a healthy fellow carries high above his head a wooden carved head of a mythical beast, like a lion's, behind him there are ten people, all in red aprons, in some kind of robes, supporting either a train or just a piece of material, apparently depicting the body of a lion. Lots of flags, drums. Two girls, beautifully dressed, whitewashed and rouged, with bear hair on their backs and heads, with fans in their hands: they represent spirits and must perform a religious dance during stops. A crowd of people, all cheerful and laughing. The black pointed hats of the “miya” servants and their white suits stand out. Finally, several carts full of laughing people; in the front cart there were three or four fat elderly gentlemen, and among them a good-natured, broad face with a gray, long, hanging beard and a Shinto hat. It must be the abbot of the village “mia” himself. Approaching the city, we had every opportunity to admire the raging sea. It was all white with foam, boiling as if in a cauldron. Obviously, we won't be able to get out of here tomorrow. October 4. In the morning, hopelessly, the catechist and I went ashore to look at the sea. It was still swirling and white, but among its waves, struggling and hobbling helplessly, a small steamer was approaching. Thank God, if not today, then tomorrow we will leave here further!.. This day, however, was not wasted. In the evening, Christians gathered, we talked with them about various differences, wrote “kakemono”, and then got down to business. They started talking about the maintenance of the church and, in particular, “quaidoo”. The catechist complained about the depletion of donations; Previously, there were generous and faithful donors in Ivanai, but they all left here, and now even for hiring a “quaidoo” the catechist himself has to pay extra, not to mention other church expenses (we need candles, incense, coal, kerosene for lamps, etc.). The young Christians readily responded and immediately decided to put the matter of maintaining the church on a more solid basis: everyone must declare how much he can and wants to contribute to this subject every month. Some have now indicated their contribution, including “okka-san,” sitting at the “irori” (hearth), responded that she contributes 20 sen a month from her chickens. All that remained was to wish that this collection, so successfully started, would serve as the real beginning of the independence of the Ivanai church. Asitate (a young mason) raised the question that it would be a good idea to open a “shimbokukwai” in Ivanai, as is done in other churches. This issue was also decided in the affirmative: to start “shimbokukwai” from the next Sunday and do it in turn in the houses of Christians on the second Sunday of every month. There were some purely Japanese oddities here too. Having decided on the meeting, they could not agree on what to call it for a long time. The common name (“shimbokukwai”) of. It seemed inappropriate to Nikolai. “Simbokuquay” can mean “a meeting for mutual acquaintance and friendship,” and Christians should already be brothers. They talked about this for a long time, until the same Asitate raised another question, really important: he invited everyone to donate to the benefit of Christians affected by the flood: Here for everyone there was something close to the heart and obligatory for the conscience. Everyone, as many as they could and wanted, wrote down donations, disputes over names and letters stopped on their own yourself. October 5. In the morning, just before dawn, the ship let us know that “kyu-ni” (hurriedly) were leaving. We rushed to get ready, somehow said goodbye to the owners and the visiting Christians, and before seven o’clock we were already in the cramped cabin of the ship. But the “kyu-ni” turned out to be Japanese: we languished from the rocking for almost three hours, until, after a dozen last and very last whistles, we finally went out to sea. It was only a little over two hours to go south. We walked around the huge ridge of Raiden-zan, which ended abruptly into the sea. Behind it is a depression, a vast and, they say, quite fertile plain, there is Siribetsu, Shimakotan, etc. Here and there there are our Christians. In one place lives a family of three brothers, all married, and they and their families are all Christians. I would like to visit them, but the stormy weather prevented me from doing so from Ivanai. We arrived in Sutsu exactly at 12. No one met us on the shore, we went straight to the hotel. At the same time, Father Nikolai expressed a rather minor assumption: the catechist must have gone to a neighboring village, now both the church house and the books are locked. You will only have to get around the Christians, but you will not have to perform any services or get acquainted with the official state of this church. The owner is a rather plump, elderly man with sideburns, a not entirely pleasant type of Japanese who has gotten his hands on dealing with missionaries. Mistaking us for Catholic priests, he recommended himself as Catholics and expressed his readiness to indicate who the Catholics were here and where they lived. Then, when we explained to him who we were, he, not at all embarrassed, began to praise the Orthodox Church and the sermon. It turns out that he was familiar with our sermon in this place from the very beginning. Our first catechist, having arrived here, could not find a room for himself: everyone flatly refused to accept “yaso-keo”, only our host generously allowed him to live in his hotel. People threw stones, broke windows, etc.; the owner endured all this, only billing a slightly increased fee for his generosity. Of course, thanks to him for letting him stay with him, otherwise, perhaps, there would have been no need to start a sermon here... He himself listened to the teachings of the catechist and now has the entire Bible (perhaps one of the Protestant missionaries gave him as a gift). At about two o'clock we went to the church house. It is built in a European style with windows, a small cross on the roof, and in general all the appearance of a church. The prayer room has a cruciform shape, based on the church in Hakodate. The room is quite large, seating fifty or more people. There is an iconostasis and an altar. But all this bears the stamp of some emptiness, as if abandoned. The catechist, fortunately, was at home, but did not notice when our ship arrived. They sent for the Christians; When they arrived, they began to serve Vespers. About ten people gathered, and only six of them were adults (including the catechist). “Sensei” and one of the Christians sang, each holding his own note and his own tune... And the prayer room is vast. Deserted and uncomfortable. ... It’s sad... And our pilgrims themselves stood somehow humiliatedly, as if apologizing for their small number. And once upon a time this church thundered throughout Ezo!.. It was a pity to look at these remnants of former greatness. It is sad to look at the sad faces of Christians. I remembered the prophet Elijah: “I am left alone, and they are looking for my soul.” He gave them a welcoming lesson on this topic, encouraging them not to lose heart, to keep their faith and mutual love, and to support each other. The living church will not remain barren; it will attract new sons to itself. After the service we looked at the metrics. There have been 119 baptisms recorded since the foundation of the church, but at present there are only 14 people, of which 8 are adults. A real pogrom... However, many were baptized from neighboring villages, where they later went to live. But still, the present is far from comforting compared to the past. This church has its own history. There was a fairly wealthy man here in previous years, Oobatake. It was not so much his capital as his character, frantic and unyielding, unashamed of anyone, that made him a very influential person in the city. Then the city of Sutsu flourished (now its glory has passed to other cities, especially to Ivanai). A terrible reveler and quarrelsome in paganism, Oobatake somehow believed in Christ and with the same swiftness converted to Christianity. The revelry and quarrels, of course, stopped, but Oobatake’s uncontrollable energy did not allow him to sit still: he flaunted his faith to everyone’s defiance, went around the city to see his friends - everywhere, hanging his baptismal cross around his neck over his dress. He started talking to everyone about Christ and convinced them to be baptized. Many were baptized thanks to his persuasion and insistence. Oobatake also built a prayer house and an apartment for the catechist in it. There were not yet enough Christians, but the house was built for the future. Every holiday there was a divine service. Almost everyone always gathered, even from neighboring villages they came: Oobatake didn’t let anyone get lazy. Church life was in full swing. But... “Do not trust in princes, in the sons of men...”. Oobatake died and everything went, if not to dust, then close to it. The fate of Oobatake himself is remarkable. This zealous Christian and builder of a house of worship died far away, moreover, in an area where there was neither a priest nor Christians. The pagans buried him. His wife, a Christian, immediately abandoned Christianity and now lives with the bonze in a Buddhist temple. She also has icons of her late husband, very good and expensive - he loved to arrange them. The daughter, who remained faithful to Christianity, asks her mother for her father’s shrine, but the mother demands three hundred yen for the icons! The other two doneri, also baptized, now live in Sutsu, but are completely behind the church and even go to tera and bow to Buddha. They are known in the city for often changing husbands. Only one daughter remained faithful to the church and Christ, now she is married to the land surveyor Shibuya in Ivanai. Amazing fate!.. Excessive zeal for the conversion of the family is sometimes, as we see, accompanied by very fragile fruits. The father must have thought to replace the sincerity of his daughters’ faith with his authority, his will, and it turned out badly. No one can come between Christ and man. If the conscience is not with Christ, then all efforts to artificially keep a person in Christianity are in vain. In the same way, many others who turned to the church at the insistence of the late Oobatake have now grown cold and “walk no more” with us. The church decayed and fell apart. To add insult to injury, the catechists who came here were not particularly zealous, and so everything went downhill. However, the decline of the city itself is largely to blame for this: the people from it dispersed in different directions, and many of the Christians dispersed throughout the surrounding area... There is no “Simbokuquay” in this church, and there is almost no one to gather: there are only four adult men (without a catechist). I advised the catechist to gather at least Christian children on Sundays and teach them the faith, for example, prayers, sacred history, etc. The evening was spent in the house next to the church, at Shigematsu’s (seven people, all Christians). This is the most venerable and oldest Christian here, who has seen the best church days. We talked to him a lot. He talked about the past; I told him what was interesting to him from the life of Russian Christians, from Greek church life, etc. The evening passed completely unnoticed. Already at night we went to our hotel. Old man Shigematsu himself walked ahead with a “cheotsin” (a lantern made of transparent paper on a long handle) and walked us home. October 6. In the morning, three of us went on horseback to Utashima, a small fishing village 3 ri (11–15 versts) from Sutsu. There are two Christian families there; they are also under the supervision of the local catechist. The road is all along the seashore and the most primitive one is a narrow path. Every now and then there are descents and ascents, the path goes along the slope in zigzags: you turn the horse, its tail hangs over the abyss. Very uncomfortable position. The worst thing is that the saddle was poorly sprung and on the descents it came off the horse’s neck, leaving the rider to maintain his balance and his own dignity, as he knows. The horses are remarkably calm and obedient... In Utashima we drove straight to the school (the village has only 50-60 houses, and the school is a beautiful building)! The teacher is a Christian, so is his wife and boy, and his adopted son. The owner himself was at first in class, then he came and acted somewhat embarrassed. It must have been because there was no icon in his rather nice apartment. It’s impossible, he says, he was about to hang an icon, there’s noise in the village, and his salary comes from the village. Of course, selfless zeal for Christ is not enough here, but... However, everyone knows that both he and his family are Christians. From here go to the other end of the village. There's John Izumi's shack. We found them having lunch. An old man, a real patriarch with a large gray beard, as Moses is depicted, sat with his whole family (nine people). All, with the exception of one adopted child, are Christians. Everyone earnestly, in Russian, accepts the blessing, folding their hands and kissing the priest. Apparently a family raised in Christianity, and this is mainly thanks to the old man himself. He knows the doctrine well, knows the customs of the church and observes them with zeal. At one time, this old man was a fairly wealthy man, but he gradually became poor and now somehow makes ends meet, making his way through fishing and... photography. The “studio” is open air with a vault of heaven instead of a ceiling, a screen - nearby mountains, descending steeply to the shack. Now we understand why John has a large frame above the door and several homemade photographs in it: this is a sign. Some good guys were filmed from. neighboring village. And in this desert there is practice for a photographer! Quite American... The old man catches fish like herrings, or maybe sprat. This fish goes completely into the kettles, is boiled there, dried, and in this form is sold to fertilize fields. One of the family members, an adopted son, is not yet a Christian. But he already knows the teaching and believes it, and has been praying like a Christian for a long time. He could have been baptized if Fr. Nikolai could come here more often. The catechumen did not have a Christian name. I gave him a small icon of St. Andrew the Apostle and named him Andrew. God willing, our Andrei will be a good Christian: there is someone to educate him at first. We went to dinner at the hotel, the old woman-hostess, smiling and muttering something, led us into a room. There are drawings on the walls - images of Buddha. On an honorable dais in the corner is an incense burner and a “kakemono” with the same Buddha. All this, however, did not reduce our appetite, and the rice - simply boiled, and even half and half with barley - turned out to be very tasty. Our old woman’s lack of culture was reflected in the fact that she did not want to take “chadai” (tea) from us. Having said goodbye to the Christians, we went to Sutsa, where we arrived at about five in the evening and spent time talking with the Christians until late at night. By the way, the issue of my further journey was resolved. On Sunday, the 9th, the steamer "Ura-to-maru" will be here, which will sail to Hakodate with a call at Esashi. In the latter there is a small community of Christians; it is necessary, if it is convenient, to visit them. Therefore, without wasting time, tomorrow we are going to Kuromatsunai, where there are also Christians. On Saturday we return here for the all-night vigil, on Sunday morning - the baptism of two children, then Fr. Nikolai remains here, and I go further. In Yesasi I wanted to go ashore, although I would hardly see Christians. This place is remarkable for its hatred of Christians. A city of about three thousand houses, more and more from the provinces of Kara, Itsigo; Buddhists are the most hardcore. Rich fanatics hold the entire people in their hands and rule them as they want. Nobody buys from Christians, houses are not rented out for the church. You can’t even go into a Christian church (that is, into the catechist’s apartment): now they pester you with questions about why you went, whether you want to listen to the teaching; with further suspicion of sympathies for Christianity, punishment will follow. Such strength of public opinion and customs in this corner of Yezo is explained by the fact that the Japanese have settled here for a very long time, they have settled almost like in their own Japan, the American freedom of individual, characteristic of colonies with an alien population, has been lost here. Therefore, in Esasi, either people who were completely newcomers, or those who were independent in their existence from trade and the neighborhood: officials, policemen, etc., became Christians. Of course, the local merchants also accepted, but slowly. Those of them who did not want to dissemble and hide had to move to another place: the world-eaters here did not give them the opportunity to stay with Christianity. One of the local (Sutsu) Christians was baptized in Esasi. The night before, having invented some excuse, he left home for church, and at night he cut and sewed a white baptismal kimono for himself. Even more people hid with icons. Father Nicholas and the catechist strongly dissuaded me from going ashore in Esasi and, especially, looking for Christians there: this would harm their trade reputation, etc. (I later learned that the local Christians, on the contrary, were glad to see us with the “simpu” and were very sad when we bypassed them). In the past, there was a church in Esasi, there was a catechist, and there was also a metric service. Now there are four Christian houses there, they live somehow, many of them have weakened in their faith. The metric, church icon and other things are in the possession of one Christian, whose wife and family are pagans. What will happen if this Christian dies? It is not good if the metric falls into the hands of pagans. It would be awkward to destroy it: the name of the church in the city of Esasi would be erased. It’s better to take the priest to your place: you can record it at home too. Thus, the story of Sutsu was repeated in Yesasi: with the fall of the city, the church also fell. It’s good that they weren’t in a hurry to build a big “quaidoo” there, like in Sutsu. At least, no traces of the former greatness are visible; the much-talked-about church house does not stand abandoned. October 7. In the morning we went to Kuromatsunai. From here it’s five miles (up to 20 versts) along an excellent highway, but we still had to ride on horseback. Here and there along the way Christians stopped. By the way, in the village of Sakaya there is one Christian house, two young spouses and a child. My husband was not at home. We sat and talked with my wife. They are recent Christians, but, by all indications, sincere believers. Only in the kitchen above the lintel there is a small “mnya”, a Shinto shrine... This is supposed to be “okka-san” (mother). Strange customs: Christian’s real mother, also a widow, does not live with them, he was adopted in this house and bears his last name and must leave his real mother and live with his adopted one. I remember the same incident in Ivanai. One Christian also has an adoptive mother, and his natural mother (a widow) only receives some benefits. “Of course,” he said, “I don’t have to feed her (this is my own mother), but still, it’s somehow not right to leave her.” Strange looks! Family ties, blood ties give way to completely external, legal relationships. The Japanese, however, notice this in many ways. And their famous genealogies are only so long and durable because they preserve, strictly speaking, only the continuity of the name, and not the family: only the surname is the same, and its bearers are sometimes not at all related to each other. In Kuromatsunai we all have five Christian houses (25 people). Two houses stand apart from the village on arable land. We stopped by their place first. You need to go across the river. There was also transportation here, but the boat was broken... There was not a soul on either side. After several minutes of our screaming, a man appeared on the opposite bank; this is our Methodius Kasavara. Having recognized us, he hastened to leave some part of his costume, jumped into the water and, approaching us, gallantly offered to lead our horses across the river. Methodius's hut (a small, very primitive straw hut) was nearby. His wife and four children are all Christians. They received us cordially and simply, not in a city way. Christians are apparently good. The mother knows how to raise her children in a Christian way, although she is a simple woman and still young. After two or three words, our hosts decided to cook a pumpkin for us, and while it was boiling, we went across the arable land, through boundaries and irrigation ditches to another Christian house, to Stefan Sato. This one also has four children, all small. Two of them have not yet been baptized (one was recently born). We arrange to have a baptism tomorrow at the church house. We talked with the owners, drank barley tea (roasted grains), ate boiled baked corn and went to Methodius to eat pumpkin. It was nice to spend a few hours with these simple people. Closer to nature, a person always somehow does better. In the village itself there is no prayer house in the proper sense, that is, a special rented building. Christians gather for prayer in the house of one of the Christian farmers, who is also a postman. In this house there is a large church icon, liturgical books, a font, etc. The local Christians are all well aware of church customs, and, apparently, are accustomed to coming together and praying. Everyone knows their job and their place. Everyone skillfully approaches the blessing: only Christians who have been close to a Russian priest or the very first Christians for a long time do this. The local Christians also have plans to build a special “quaidoo”, and even 30 yen are kept for this item (including 15 from Father Arseny, the missionary). Now they are waiting for there to be more Christians and more money. This is good: there is no hurry with “quaidoo”. In cramped conditions, don’t be offended, says the proverb. It is better to be late with it than to rush and then languish at the sight of an empty church. For the current number of Christians, a room in the Arikawa house is quite enough. At 8 o'clock they served the all-night vigil. I said in the conversation that Christians, having followed Christ, should not forget their eternal calling in their daily work, so that they would kindle their faith through constant communication with the church, through prayer and observance of church decrees. At about eleven o'clock the Christians left, and we, shivering from the cold, began to go to bed. October 8. At nine o'clock the baptism began, to which all the Christians came, even both houses and all the children came from the field. Then we sat down for a peaceful conversation near the “hiba-tsi”. It is gratifying to see mutual agreement and friendly relations between all Christians. In general, this church promises a lot in the future, if only current Christians remain in it. We had to go home, but our guide disappeared somewhere. They found him in a tavern, already drunk. Let's go back to Sutsa. I rode ahead again, the horse continued to rush into every path, and finally, having marked out a path for itself across a wide ditch, it jumped, but at this time the guide for some reason found it necessary to spur the horse on. Nikolai, she pushed mine, and the latter and I flew head over heels across the ditch... Thank God, on the other side there was soft arable land, it was comfortable to fall, and my horse fell very carefully, it must have gotten used to it, and did not at all crush its rider... After a sensation appropriate for the occasion, instructive explanations to the guide and some corrections, we moved on... On the way, we stopped by a Christian who had long ago lost contact with the Sutsu Church; it is considered the definitive "reitan". He lives in a very poor hut in a village on the seashore. Without taking off our shoes, we sat down on the threshold of his house (if you can say that about a Japanese house). We talked. He speaks very sweetly, he knows everything about the church, apparently very well, his face is guilty and fearful. From questioning, it turned out that he even subscribes to our church magazine “Sei-keo-Simpo” (Orthodox Messenger), which is a good sign, he does not break ties with the church, he is interested in its life and everything that happens in it, otherwise he would not have spent his last pennies on subscribing to the magazine. But never set foot in Sutsu Church. Father Nikolai then explained that this man’s past prevented him from appearing there: he sold the church land, gave the money on interest, hoping for interest, and the debtor ran away without paying anything, thus Endoo (our Christian) did not receive any gain, the church lost its property. Approaching Suts, we noticed: some rather large steamer, after diligent whistles, weighed anchor and went out to sea. Could this really be our Urato-maru, which I was going to drive further? At the hotel they were convinced that our fears were well-founded: it was, indeed, “Ura-to-maru”... We had to be heartily annoyed that we had succumbed to deception: we could have gone straight from Kuromatsunai to Hakodate by land. But now there’s no way to fix it, they wanted to travel faster and with greater comfort, but now the opposite is happening! In the evening they served the Sunday all-night vigil with a lesson on the day's Gospel. All the adults have gathered, yes, they say, there are almost no people here who are lazy about worship. October 9. At 9 o'clock we gathered in church and began the rite of baptism of two babies. Then a mass service with a lesson on the apostolic reading about generosity in alms (regarding the recent flood). The day was spent in conversations with Christians. We visited teacher Kuriyagawa. A huge family, all small children, and a small salary. Obviously they are in dire need. His eldest son studies at a government school, and eventually his father wants to send him to a seminary. It would, of course, be easier for my father: at the seminary they don’t charge anything for tuition and, in addition, they provide maintenance. After dinner, “sensei” and Kuriyagawa and some others came to our hotel and talked for a long time with me and among themselves. It is remarkable that their mutual conversation revolves mostly around preaching and church affairs in general - which catechist or priest, how he preaches, how Christians treat him, etc. We went to bed with the hope of receiving news the next day about the ship so that I could go to Esasi. October 10. There is no steamship and there is no sign of it. We spent the day complaining about the deceitfulness of the steamship operators. I decided to go on the first steamer, at least I had to make a circle again to Otaru. By evening Fr. Nikolai moved to the church house: tomorrow they are leaving with the catechist for Isoya, a village that we could not visit upon our arrival from Otaru. There are several Christian houses there, three brothers in particular are zealous, all married, but living as one family. After dinner, when, apparently, all hope of leaving had disappeared, the “banto” (doorman) came with the news that “Koorai-maru” had arrived and was immediately filming in Otaru... There was nothing better to expect, I quickly got ready and, accompanied by almost all the adult Christians and the owner of the hotel, by the light of several paper lanterns (“cheo-tsin”), headed to the pier. About seven o'clock I was already sitting on the matting in the stern of the steamer; There were several workers next to me, rather embarrassedly giving me more space. The room was cramped and low, and the steamer was small. What will happen to us if the sea is rocky?.. Fortunately, I didn’t have to stay on the lower deck for long. I went upstairs into the fresh air. It was dark. The ship was tilting heavily with the wind, spray flying onto the deck. Cold and damp. One of the captain’s assistants talked to me and promised to transfer me to Ivanai in the control room on the upper deck, where there would be space available. It’s only a two-hour walk to Ivanai, so I stayed at the top. The captain's mate had some acquaintance with Christianity, or, more precisely, with missionary work. Some of his relatives studied at a missionary school. It is very useful to send girls to the mission to be raised; they become “otonashiku” (meek). From his point of view, the Japanese was quite right: he needed a meek wife, and therefore needed Christianity. How often we hear talk among us about the usefulness of Christianity! How often they calculate the various merits of Christianity to a culture, a nation, and by this they want to prove that people should preserve the Christian religion and support the church. People do not notice that by doing this they only humiliate Christianity. One can and should be a Christian only for the sake of Christ, otherwise Christianity is self-deception and hypocrisy, otherwise there is no meaning in it. October 11. I slept very poorly in the booth. It was cold. And then the rocking with its consequences... Moreover, I was not the only one in the control room... But at 6 and a half in the morning, we, be that as it may, entered the roadstead in Otaru. At 10 o'clock I had already traveled from Otaru by rail to Muroran, the same route (to Sapporo) where I had passed a month and a half before. The surrounding view has changed since then. The tall grass covering the plain, then green, now turned white like a cornfield, the forest was painted in different colors, the oaks turned red, standing out in an original way against the white and yellow background. To top it all off, the whole day the sky was covered with some sort of greyish-brown haze, and the sun looked through it like a red ball, giving everything a strange illumination. Only our native birches were green in this fantastic red-yellow kingdom. I look for a long time at the low-lying Poro-Mui area, where the flood was especially great and devastating. Many people died here, and our Patriarch Evgeniy Sabanai and his family also suffered. In the evening at 8 o'clock I was in Mororan, and at 9 and a half we left on the Tsuruga Maru in Hakodate. The sea was like a mirror, the ship did not move. The night is warm, moonlit. Only the darkness had now descended into a thick fog, and we walked at the quietest pace. October 12. At around seven in the morning we were already in Hakodate, again enjoying its lively raid. Soon I was approaching our mission house. Everything was still quiet, the familiar chestnut trees darkened just as thoughtfully, and our old church huddled under their shade. The first evangelist of Orthodoxy in Japan, Archbishop Nicholas (Kasatkin) 10 1. Childhood and educational years of Archbishop Nicholas At the end of the 18th and beginning of the 19th century, over the vast expanse of the Russian land, the star of St. Seraphim. In the saint, our generation honors the greatest saint of ancient and modern Rus'. During the life of the saint, on October 19, 1829, on the northern outskirts of Russia in the village of Sura, Pinezhsky district, Arkhangelsk province, the future priest Fr. John of Kronstadt. It was given to him from above to become a great saint of God, who demonstrated in the world priestly righteousness, nourished by the experience of the Eucharist and clergy. And a few years later, in the remote village of Bereza, Belevsky district, Smolensk province, in the modest family of deacon Dmitry Kasatkin, a second son, the future archbishop, was born on August 1, 1836. Nicholas, named John in holy baptism in honor of the Forerunner and Baptist of the Lord. The baby was also given by the Lord to reveal himself as a torch of Orthodoxy, kindled by the Russian Orthodox Church on the distant islands of Japan. His childhood was unhappy: having lost his mother as a 5-year-old child, he experienced hopeless poverty and the grief of orphanhood. Early sorrows and hardships hardened the child, developing in him willpower and endurance, and developing an ardent religious disposition. Vanya Kasatkin attracted those around him with his lively mind, talent, and sociability. Unshakable faith in God and willpower were the key to overcoming in the future all obstacles to the preaching of the archbishop. Nicholas. The teenage years of Vanya, the future Archbishop Nicholas, were not easy either. Having graduated from theological school first, the boy entered the Smolensk Theological Seminary. As Vladyka Nikolai himself recalls, there were no railways then and, not having money for transportation, he and other poor seminarians were forced to trudge on foot through the slums for more than 150 miles to get to the walls of the seminary. Life in “Bursa” was not easy either, with cold and hunger, and the rude attitude of others. The harsh seminary life further tempered the gifted young man. Upon graduating from the seminary first in 1856, he was sent to the state account to the St. Petersburg Theological Academy, where he also stood out for his abilities and was intended to remain at the Academy and the professorial department. However, a scientific career did not attract the young man. His life path was determined from above by the Providence of God. Neither student comrades, nor professors of the Academy, nor the future archbishop. Nicholas did not even think about the apostolic feat that he subsequently performed. This distant pagan country, before the announcement of freedom of Christian preaching there, was little known even to educated circles in Russia. According to Vladyka, the desire to preach in Japan arose by chance, while reading a book he came across by a traveler and navigator of the late 17th and early 18th centuries, naval captain Vasily Golovnin. Golovnin, once traveling on a boat in search of water for the ship, landed on a Japanese island, was captured by guards, fled and hid near the shore with a Japanese fishing family. Captured again, he spent two years in captivity. Finally, in Tokyo he was able to explain himself through a Dutch sailor and was released. Returning to his homeland, Golovnin wrote his “Memoirs”. This book made a strong impression on student Kasatkin, especially the love of the fisherman’s daughter for the fugitive. He thought that in a people who did not know Christ and were so close to Him in relation to their neighbor, the preaching of the Gospel would be valuable. In 1860, the rector of the consular church in Hakodate, Fr., returned from Japan due to illness. Makhov. The Holy Synod offered a vacancy to graduating students Academy, with the wish to plant the Orthodox faith among Japanese pagans. There were those who wanted to go married, but this was not suitable. Reading the paper from the Synod did not make an impression on Ivan Kasatkin, and he calmly went to the all-night vigil in the academic church, where his soul was touched by the call of God and the decision matured to go to preach the Gospel to the Japanese and accept monasticism, which he had not thought about before. Rector of the ep. Nektary approved this impulse and, with the blessing of the St. Petersburg Metropolitan, on July 24, I. Kasatkin was tonsured in the academic church as a monk with the name Nicholas, ordained a hierodeacon on July 29, and a hieromonk on July 30. Advising him, Bishop. Nektarios said that with the ascetic’s cross he must take the wanderer’s staff, and with the feat of monasticism he will have to work as an apostle. 2. Travel and early years in Japan Hieromonk Nicholas was not embarrassed by the long and extremely difficult journey. Having left St. Petersburg on July 29, 1860, he stopped by to say goodbye to his relatives and set off on his journey through Kazan. He traveled 2,000 miles to Japan through Siberia, shaking. in a tent and subjected to many hardships. At the end of September he arrived in Nikolaevsk-on-Amur, where he spent the winter, since sea navigation had ceased. In Nikolaevsk, the novice missionary met with the famous educator of Siberia, Bishop. Kamchatka Innocent (Veniaminov), future Metropolitan of Moscow. The latter taught his interlocutor a lot during the winter, drawing from his rich missionary experience. Seeing the poor, modest cassock of the hieromonk, Bishop. Innocent told him that the missionary must first of all influence the pagan Asians with his representative appearance. Ep. Innocent bought good velvet and cut Fr.’s cassock out of it himself. Nikolai. He also pointed out that preachers of Christ in Japan cannot help but wear a pectoral cross, and placed on the future missionary a bronze cross received for participation in the Crimean campaign. With the opening of navigation o. Nicholas departed on the warship Amur for his destination and arrived in Hakodate on June 20, 1861, after almost a year's voyage. Preaching Orthodoxy Fr. Nicholas in Japan historically continues the work of enlightening the pagans with the Gospel by the saints and reverend preachers of Ancient Rus'. Especially close to the enlightener of Japan, St. Stefan of Perm, enlightener of the Zyryans in the 14th century, who served and preached in their language and translated the Holy Scriptures and liturgical books into the Zyryans language. The young hieromonk arrived in Japan at a difficult time: the preaching of Christ was prohibited by law under threat of death. According to Fr. Nicholas, the Japanese looked at Christians as animals, and at Christianity itself as a villainous sect, to which only notorious sorcerers and villains could belong. The young hieromonk felt in his heart that there was a lot of harvest in this unknown country. “She was pictured in my imagination,” he said, “as a bride waiting for my arrival with a bouquet in her hands. The news of Christ will spread through the darkness, and everything will be made new. Crowds of flocking listeners and then followers of the word of God were depicted.” However, given the prohibitive laws and the extreme suspicion of the Japanese towards foreigners, there could be no thought of openly preaching the Gospel without knowing the language. One missionary's appearance on the street aroused suspicion, sometimes they even threw stones at him and set dogs on him. I had to limit myself to church services at the consulate. For the feat of apostleship, it was necessary not only to mature spiritually, but also to comprehensively know the country to whose enlightenment the missionary devoted himself; the main thing was that it was necessary to learn the most difficult Japanese language in the absence of modern textbooks. The hieromonk was doomed to loneliness in the Japanese pagan world. O. Nikolai especially appreciated the kind attitude of the consul in Hakodate Goshkevich. He always remembered him with love as a Russian pioneer in the study of Japan, the compiler of the first Japanese-Russian dictionary. They agreed on a common interest in learning the Japanese language. Looking closely at everything, especially at the Japanese assimilation of the principles of Christianity and missionary preaching, Fr. Nicholas at first made an unfavorable impression, which he expressed in letters to Metropolitan. Isidora. But, hoping for God's help, he began to expect a change for the better. The hieromonk’s work was greatly facilitated by his amazing oratorical talent and majestic, attractive appearance. Soon the Russian missionary led all Christians in Hakodate. Without distinction of religion, Christians rallied around the Russian priest, and the small Christian community unanimously defended itself; then the arriving missionaries led the heterodox communities. According to Fr. Nicholas, he decided first of all to study, as far as he could, the local language. It took a long time to look closely at this difficult language. The Japanese were afraid to give him lessons. Finally, the teacher was found, but ran away two days later, afraid of meeting a foreigner on the street. 14 hours a day about. Nikolai, in addition to studying the language, read and researched everything, trying to penetrate the soul of the Japanese people. The student’s zeal was so great that one teacher was unable to work with him: two, even three teachers began to come one by one. A whole 8 years were spent on unnoticed feats of teaching before the start of the great apostolate in Japan. Vladyka Nikolai achieved an amazing knowledge of the Japanese language, both written and spoken, explaining it freely, beautifully and forcefully, although with a foreign accent. In 1907, Archbishop. Nicholas in Tokyo, before a meeting of thousands of listeners, gave a two-hour speech, several times interrupted by applause, when Vladyka used examples and comparisons, from the point of view of the Japanese, unknown to Europeans. The Japanese press noted that Archbishop. Nikolai knows Japan better than the Japanese themselves. 3. The beginning of the founding of the Orthodox Church in Japan With the help of God Fr. Nicholas managed to plant the seed of the Orthodox faith in the souls of the Japanese. A story has been preserved about the first conversion of an ardent opponent of Christianity: he was the pagan priest Savabe, who met with Fr. Nicholas at the consul Goshkevich, whose son the Japanese gave fencing lessons. Once the priest, especially excited against the preacher of Christianity, was ready to rush at him with a sword. “Only God’s help saved me then from inevitable death,” recalled Vladyka Nikolai. “I was saved only by a miracle: an unexpected revolution took place in Savabe’s soul.” “Why are you angry with me?” Father Nicholas asked the priest. “You, foreigners, need to kill everyone, you came to spy on our land, and with your preaching you will harm Japan more than anyone.” The intelligent and developed Sawabe was sincere and answered the missionary’s question in the negative. In the end, Sawabe agreed to listen to Father Nicholas, stipulating that nothing would come of the sermon. The hieromonk began to speak with inspiration, passionately and for a long time about God, about sin, the soul and its immortality. The priest listened with his arms crossed on his chest, and his face, instead of anger, gradually began to express attention. Then he took out a book and began to write down, and when leaving, he promised to come. Father Nicholas especially explained to Savaba that one cannot judge Christ by the behavior of foreigners: a whole abyss lies between true Christians and imaginary friends of the teachings of Christ. Conversations became more frequent, about what. Nicholas wrote to Met. Isidore: “A priest of an ancient religion comes to me to study our faith. If he doesn’t grow cold and die from the death penalty, we can expect a lot from him.” Father Nicholas informed the Metropolitan that Sawabe was going to translate the Bible into Japanese from Chinese, they were waiting for the necessary books from Beijing. Finally, on April 20, 1865, Fr. Nicholas writes: “The priest is looking forward to my baptism: his only goal in life now is to serve the fatherland by spreading Christianity.” Father Nicholas gave his listener a book of the New Testament, but Savabe did not dare read it. However, he found a way out by reading the Gospel quietly during the service in a pagan shrine and simultaneously knocking on an ordinary drum. “No one thought that I was reading foreign heresy,” Sawabe later admitted. Two other students were found. Rumors spread throughout Hakodate about a secret sermon by Fr. Nicholas. The students were in danger, they decided to run away.. Previously, Fr. Nicholas secretly baptized them, calling them Savabe - Paul, Sakai - John, Urano - Jacob. This was the foundation of the Orthodox Church in Japan in 1868. The second convert, the doctor Sakai, was a friend of Sawabe, who began his conversion. Sakai was educated and eloquent. It was difficult for Savabe to compete with him; he often resorted to Fr. for help. Nikolai. Finally, Sakai himself came to the missionary, who convinced him of the greatness of Christianity. John Sakai became the second luminary of Orthodoxy in Japan. That year, a political turning point was taking place in Japan. Despite all the difficulties, the three first Japanese Christians took advantage of opportunities to preach Christ, although they themselves, dismissed from service after baptism, were in a difficult situation. Arriving in the city of Sendai, Sawabe began to preach Orthodoxy to his friends. The forced flight of the first Christians from Hakodate was beneficial to the nascent church. Pavel Savabe and John Sakai were Fr.'s helpers and joy from the very beginning. Nicholas. He said in 1907 in Tokyo: “I recognize my unchanging Sawabe.” Bishop Nicholas spoke of John Sakai: “He is always looking in the city for someone to talk about Christ.” The cultural life of the country moved forward quickly. Although the ban on preaching Christianity remained in force, the government softened its views on it. Preaching became freer. The first success inspired Fr. Nicholas. He began to preach in Japanese houses, looking closely at the family life of the Japanese, trying to plant the seed of Christ in his soul. “First to conquer with love, and then to carry the word” was the guiding principle of the Apostle of Japan. O. Nicholas never condemned the religion of the Japanese; even among the Buddhist priests he had friends. Having already moved to Tokyo, the missionary once went to a Buddhist temple to listen to the famous preacher. The bonzes wanted to seat their guest, but, according to Japanese custom, there was no seat, the senior priest took off all the decorations of the main altar and politely invited the horrified hieromonk to sit on it. This is a clear indication of the Japanese people’s respect for Fr. Nicholas is already in his young years. Later archim. Nikolai wrote: “What is needed here is the heart, the ability to empathize with the needs of your neighbor; to feel the sorrows and joys of your neighbor as if they were your own.” Fr. himself Nicholas saw the reason for his success, on the one hand, in preparing the Japanese in general to accept Christianity, and on the other, in preaching Orthodoxy, and not Catholicism or Protestantism. The success of the sermon was such that Fr. Nicholas could calmly leave the young church in the care of new Christians in 1869 and go to Russia to petition the Holy Synod for the opening of a Russian Spiritual Mission. To the homeland o. Nicholas arrived in February 1870. The Holy Synod recognized the petition of Hieromonk Nicholas as worthy of respect and asked the Ministry of Finance to allocate the amount necessary for the Mission - 6,000 rubles annually and 10,000 rubles. at one time. The Ministry of Finance agreed to accept half the expense at the expense of the state treasury, i.e. 3,000 rubles. annually and 5000 rub. at one time. The other half was allocated by the Holy Synod at the expense of printing capital. A special Russian Spiritual Mission in Japan was formed to preach the word of God to the Japanese, consisting of a chief, three fellow hieromonks and a clergyman. The work of the Mission was established in four cities: 1) Nagasaki - the cradle of Christianity in Japan, 2) Tokyo - the eastern capital, 3) Kyoto - the capital in the center and 4) Hakodate - the residence of the Russian consulate and the church attached to it. Fr. was appointed head of the mission. Nicholas in the rank of archimandrite, assistant to the candidate of the Kazan Theological Academy, widowed priest Grigory Vorontsov. The Head of the Mission was given the right to petition the Synod to replenish the Mission with missionaries until they were fully staffed. The mission was subordinated to the Kamchatka diocesan authorities. The cornerstone of the Orthodox Church in Japan was laid by its founder himself. Father Nicholas drew up special instructions for missionaries, which were approved by the Holy Synod. Missionaries must preach the word of God in Japanese, translate the Holy Scriptures and compile textbooks on the Law of God in Japanese for children. The missionary's doors should always be open to the listener; he should go wherever success in preaching the word of God is possible. Before leaving Russia, Fr. Nikolai came to say goodbye to his old father, whom he constantly took care of while living in Japan. In March 1871, he returned to Hakodate as head of the Mission and became the head of his small community. The abandoned seeds of the faith of Christ during his absence bore abundant sprouts and shoots. It was a joyful meeting with Pavel Savabe, Ioann Sakai and others who successfully preserved the young community; The Church of Christ grew. The sermon remained secret, and Pavel Savabe and John Sakai led it during walks outside the city. O. Nikolai could say; “Here it is not the preacher of the faith who needs to chase after drowning souls, on the contrary, he is being chased, he is being sought.” Priest Grigory Vorontsov fell ill and returned to Russia. The archimandrite became needed again. Nikolay's assistant. In December 1871, a candidate from the Kyiv Theological Academy, Hieromonk Anatoly, arrived at the Mission. The fraternal life of the community was reminiscent of the times of early Christianity. Archimandrite Nikolai wrote about Hieronymus. Anatoly that he could not wish for better assistants. Having moved to Tokyo, the archimandrite was not afraid to leave the newly arrived hieromonk with three catechists in Hakodate. Transferred to Osaka, Fr. Anatoly built a missionary house, a church, and a catechist school. Unfortunately, he died in the prime of his life, being an archimandrite - rector of the embassy church in Tokyo, leaving behind a fond memory among Orthodox Japanese. The period of stay of the archim. Nicholas in Hakodate, especially 1861 - 1869, is only the preparatory stage of his activity; The missionary's main work during these years was focused on studying the language. 4. Spread of Orthodoxy in Japan With the move and justification of the archimandrite. Nicholas in Tokyo in January 1872, the second period in the history of the Orthodox Church in Japan begins. The Head of the Mission now deployed his preaching and administrative abilities to the fullest extent. Then in Tokyo, foreigners had to occupy a certain quarter (concession). The work of preaching was complicated by the fanatical patriotism of the Japanese and their suspicion of foreigners. From the first acquaintance with the Russians, the Japanese suspected Russia of an attempt on the independence of their empire and from the beginning of the 19th century they studied ways to counter the imaginary conqueror. However, there were special reasons for the success of the preaching of Russian missionaries. The main thing: the first Orthodox Japanese were out of any connection with politics; from the beginning of the sermon until the death of the archbishop. Nicholas (1912), Orthodoxy was accepted mainly by the poorest Japanese, there were very few representatives of the aristocracy, and there were no rich people at all, and the Orthodox Church was extremely poor. The words of Archimandrite himself are interesting. Nicholas, who wrote in 1869 that in just 8 years the Orthodox Mission, with two permanent missionaries and a lack of funds, was more successful than the Catholic and Protestant missions combined in 20 years with hundreds of missionaries and large funds. Dissatisfied with their various religions, the Japanese soul was drawn to Christ. At the beginning of the 17th century. the number of Christians in Japan was more than one million 800 thousand, almost a third of the population, with thousands of churches. The first preacher of Christ in the Land of the Rising Sun was, in 1549, the Catholic monk St. Francis Xavier. He had no gift for learning the language, but successfully preached through a Japanese translator, in the baptism of Paul. After the death of Francis Xavier in 1551, preaching grew, but the edict of 1558 expelled all missionaries within 20 days; preaching was prohibited, but it did not stop. In 1637, another edict decisively expelled all preachers of the new religion. A terrible persecution of Christians broke out, causing them to revolt in the mountains. Shimabur and resulted in the murder of 37 thousand Christians in the city; There were many followers of Christ who went to torture and death, on crosses, by the sword, in boiling cauldrons, in the sea. A string of crosses stretched along the edges of the roads, with entire Christian families crucified; In total, up to 280 thousand Christians were tortured and killed. A catacomb church was created without priests, which existed secretly until the 19th century, when in the 70s. The law of freedom of Christian preaching was declared. And now in Japan there are 30-40 thousand descendants of these catacomb early Christians, who have not reunited with Catholicism and are headed by a special hierarchy of laymen. The reason for the terrible persecution, according to Archbishop. Nicholas, after St. Francis Xavier lay primarily in the Christian missionaries themselves. The archbishop saw in the history of Japan the hand of Providence, which saved it from the politically intriguing preachers of Christianity who came to the Land of the Rising Sun in the 16th century. According to his principle of refraining from public condemnation of heterodox faiths, Archbishop. Nicholas rarely spoke about the Japanese attitude towards Catholicism and Protestantism. Also in 1869, he wrote: “The Japanese seem to be showing an inclination towards Orthodoxy.” The reason for the spread of Orthodoxy in Japan, according to Archbishop. Nicholas, was the preparedness of the souls of the Japanese to accept Christianity and the complete freedom of Orthodoxy from connection with politics. O. It was difficult for Nikolai to find premises in Tokyo; Finally, he was sheltered by an English friend, but only for the night. I had to wander the streets all day, eating in Japanese canteens. The kind and good-natured attitude of the Japanese convinced the missionary only of temporary and accidental hostility towards foreigners. Finally, an apartment of two small rooms in the attic was found, where Archimandrite. Nicholas began secretly preaching Orthodoxy in the capital of Japan. Need was hot on the missionary's heels. His salary, like “a drop in the bucket,” almost all of it was spent on supporting officials fired for converting to Orthodoxy, on the salaries of catechists (preachers) and, in general, on helping the poorest Christians. He himself could not leave for the provinces and showed hospitality to all listeners, often at his own expense. The letters of a missionary to Russia, who never complained about his poverty, are interesting. “Screaming for help is one thing I can do, and I screamed. Imagine my situation: God, it's so hot! And in the morning, before noon, and in the evening from 5 o’clock, 20–30 people come to lessons in the Law of God in my home. One room in the attic, 11 square meters. feet according to exact measurements. Its height is such that a person of my height can barely stand in it at full height. Calculate how much air there is in such a home. Foreign missions have flooded the country with their literature, and the Orthodox do not even have inexpensive typographical fonts. Crosses glitter on foreign churches and bells ring. “And we would need a church,” our poor chicks say, “there is nowhere to pray, to pour out our souls before God. But we will have it soon: they will send it from Russia! And the land, cracked by drought, is not waiting for rain as much as we are waiting for your help, revive and encourage us as soon as possible, if not directly with help, then with hope for it.” His hope for a bright future in Japan, Fr. Nikolai captured in print in the same 1869: “The dawn of new activity is breaking for the clergy, that activity will not only be domestic, it will be global; God willing, I will not be abandoned and I am here alone, doomed to fruitless, lonely labor. It was with this hope that I came here 7 years ago. I've been living here for 7 years; My most fervent prayer is for its realization.” In addition to personal confidence, Archimandrite. Nicholas in the success and triumph of Orthodoxy, the guarantee of his future in Japan was the unshakable, courageous, firm faith of the Japanese and their highly moral life. The virtues of the Japanese fed the energy of the activity of the head of the Mission, who had to not encourage, but, on the contrary, restrain the zeal of the Orthodox Japanese early Christians. Jealousy could still be punishable by prison and even torture. Archim. Nikolai observed a gratifying, promising phenomenon. As soon as the seeds of Orthodoxy were sown, and its followers sealed their faith with suffering, the commandments of Christ became the rule of their lives. The example of the first-born of Orthodoxy in Japan, Pavel Sawabe, is especially instructive: “Before my eyes,” wrote Fr. Nikolai, “the process of giving birth to a new life by the grace of God was taking place, and behind my eyes another process was already taking place - testing, strengthening the strength of the newborn.” Disasters befell Sawabe with his announcement. Having lost her mind, the wife set fire to the house, all the property was burned; the former priest left his position at the idol; Poverty and the need to support his sick wife and her relatives forced Savabe to leave his seven-year-old son in the idol, whom he did not have the means to ransom. Imprisoned for preaching, he, having received freedom, again preaches Christ. The house built by the parishioners burned down. Savabe remained poor. At the first call, Fr. Nicholas, leaving his family, he comes to Tokyo to go to preach in the province of Sendai. There, he and others were soon imprisoned in such a damp dungeon, from which they rarely leave without completely ruining their health. Released, he again, without knowing rest either day or night, preaches Christ. “Poor Savabe,” writes Fr. Nikolai, - works for Christ, as rarely does anyone in the world work, but receives only the burden of sorrows. Are there really no good people to take part in Savabe’s situation?” - cried Fr. Nicholas asks to help a former priest to ransom his son from the idol. And the second converted Japanese, John Sakai, having converted to Christianity, immediately abandoned all his habits and weaknesses and, after baptism, from a pagan became an ascetic. Among those baptized, Fr. Nicholas in 1878 was also John Ono, later a famous preacher. During the persecution in February 1872, more than 120 people were interrogated in Sendai, many even before their baptism, and all courageously professed Orthodoxy, even children 10–12 years old, who amazed non-believers with their answers. Jacob Takai, sent to Archimandrite. Nicholas in Tokyo, having learned about the persecution, returned halfway to Sendai and voluntarily went under arrest, declaring during interrogation: “If you consider me a criminal violating the law prohibiting Christianity, I am ready to die for the true faith.” In the same year, persecution broke out in Hakodate, the cradle of Orthodoxy, caused by the Easter ringing, according to Russian custom, throughout Bright Week in the consular church. Many curious people came to the ringing, the catechists began to preach, explaining the main events of the Old and New Testaments using icons. Some of the catechists were put in prison by the governor, some in a fortress. Orthodox officials were expelled from service, Orthodox Christians were expelled from the city, the printing house at the Orthodox Church was closed, and the activities of the Mission's publishing house were temporarily suspended. This was the last outbreak of hatred towards Christianity. In 1873, the old prohibitory decrees against Christians were abolished, and a new era began in the Land of the Rising Sun - freedom to preach Christ. With the announcement of the constitution, a Christian was elected as the first chairman of parliament. During these very years, the Apostle of Japan wrote that the will of God to enlighten Japan was becoming more and more clear, more and more people were coming to the missionaries to listen to the word of God, and the number of converts was growing every day. “The Lord allowed us to experience persecution, but the cloud had already rushed past, and just as a thunderstorm revives the beauty of nature, so the past trial inflamed the already zealous heart of the children of God. What work for God will not be crowned with success? The building of the Church and the preaching of the word of God throughout the country became unhindered. Various schools with the study of foreign languages ​​were opened in Tokyo, and Archimandrite. Nikolai began teaching Russian. The missionary's premises on the outskirts of the capital were small and unsuitable for preaching. The mission took a perpetual lease on a site on Surugadai Hill, the central point of Tokyo. In 1873 Construction of a large house with the Mission's house church began. The funds (32 thousand rubles) were mainly collected by Admiral Prince. Putyatin, who concluded the first Russian-Japanese trade agreement in 1855. A 6-grade theological seminary was established, the best of the graduating seminarians were sent to Russian theological academies. To train catechists, a catechist school was founded, where people from 18 to 60 years of age who devoted themselves to preaching Christ could enroll. At the expense of the prince's daughter. Putyatina and gr. Orlova-Davydova opened a girls' school in Tokyo for 100 students. Since the 70s of the 19th century, the life of the Mission has followed a smoother and more reliable path. In 1878, the young Church already had 6 Japanese priests, 27 catechists, and 51 assistants for preaching in the provinces. According to the report of the Chief Prosecutor to the Holy Synod in 1878, “these evangelists of the faith are imbued with the spirit of apostolic zeal.” Back in 1875, the Council of the Orthodox Church in Tokyo elected two Japanese as the first candidates for the priesthood: Paul Sawabe as a priest and John Sakai as a deacon; they were dedicated to the bishop. Paul of East Siberia in Hakodate. The church grew with a great lack of funds. In 1878, the head of the Mission himself raised the question of the need for a bishop in Japan, which was recognized by the Holy Synod. Requested by telegram for his consent to become a bishop, Archimandrite. Nicholas replied: “If a bishop cannot be appointed from Russia, I agree.” Having departed for the second time to his homeland, Fr. Nikolai visited St. Petersburg, Moscow, and Kyiv. The meeting with his relatives, the visit to his native Academy, and the sympathy of those around him inspired the missionary. But soon he got tired of the noisy life in the capital and was drawn to Japan. March 3, 1880 in St. Petersburg, archimandrite. Nicholas was elevated to Bishop of Revel and Japan. The Bishop recalled the experience of consecration: “During the performance of the sacrament of consecration without the will of a person, the soul is confused. The whole being is under the influence of the right hands eight hierarchs, as was the case today, one feels transformed: one stands up completely different from how one knelt before the Throne.” As always, he prayed “for the enlightenment of this country with the Light of the Gospel,” that is, for his beloved Japan. The new bishop did not forget the words of the Metropolitan Metropolitan when presenting the staff: “For the rest of your life, serve the task you have taken upon yourself, and do not allow another to have your crown.” “May I always remember this in the midst of my thoughts.” The consecration was noted in the press as a very significant, very gratifying event in the Russian Church. The first Bishop of Japan holyly fulfilled the word of the High Hierarch of the Council of Bishops who ordained him: soon returning to his Mission, he never saw his homeland again until his death on February 3, 1912. Vladyka Nikolai spent some time collecting funds for the Mission, especially for the cathedral in Tokyo. Having visited the shrines of the Russian land for spiritual strengthening, he made reports about Japan in Moscow. According to the testimony of listeners, the stories about Christianity in Japan of that period made a gratifying impression, reminiscent of reading the Acts of the Apostles. The missionary’s love for Japan, alien to him in all respects, which he spoke of as his native country, was striking. A curious legend was given by the Bishop himself, which circulated about him in Japan: that Bishop Nicholas was the son of a Japanese man who fled from the persecution of his government to Russia and was married to a Russian. The Bishop never lost his conviction in the bright future of Orthodoxy in Japan, which is the key to the success of his preaching. The Bishop in Russia also thought about the choir for the future cathedral, and brought with him to Japan the regent Dmitry Pavlovich Lvovsky, who later remained there in the rank of deacon, also until the end of his days. In 1884 in the Church there were up to 10 thousand Orthodox Japanese, 160 church buildings, 65 parishes, a bishop, 12 priests, 2 deacons, 75 preachers. The matter of archpastoral guardianship of Bishop. Nicholas is the famous Cathedral of the Resurrection of Christ in Tokyo. Since 1884, construction lasted 7 years. The church became an adornment of the entire Christian world in the Far East. Its construction was very difficult due to frequent earthquakes in Japan and almost continuous fires in Tokyo. The foundation took a whole year to build, the walls for 5 years. Everything was firm and thorough, but nothing, according to the Lord’s word, was luxurious. The consecration ceremony of the church took place on March 2, 1891. The construction with internal decorations cost 500 thousand rubles. Moscow turned out to be especially generous, collecting 200 thousand. Both the sacristy and the utensils, according to the testimony of Fr. Vostorgov - everything in the cathedral reminded me of Moscow. 19 Japanese priests and more than 4,000 Christians came from all over the country to attend the celebration. A mixed choir of 150 seminarians and students of the theological school sang under the direction of Lvovsky. Some newspapers noted the excellent singing. The church fully corresponded to the bishop’s thoughts. Nicholas: “The cathedral will be memorable: it rightly arouses the attention, curiosity and surprise of those living and visiting Tokyo.” The consecration took place orderly, calmly, without hostile agitation. This hostile agitation during its construction, due to the proximity of the hill to the imperial palace below it, was a test for the bishop. Nicholas, confusing even some Orthodox Japanese, who considered the construction an unjustified expense. The Japanese church continued to expand. In 1898 there was one bishop, 35 priests, 148 catechists, 24,260 Orthodox Christians, 246 churches and houses of worship throughout the country. According to the table 1887–1904 On average, about 1,000 people were baptized into Orthodoxy annually, the most in 1888 - 2,420 people, with 16 priests and 139 catechists. Even in the most difficult year of the war, 1904, 656 people were baptized. 5. The structure of government of the Japanese Orthodox Church The Orthodox Church of Japan in its internal governance was only formally dependent on the Holy Synod, possessing almost autonomy. Its structure is striking in its patriarchy. In Japan, church councils were held annually with the participation of lay people, even women, elected as deputies of church communities. Usually the councils met from June 30 to July 4, and were divided into large ones, with the participation of laity and representatives of church communities, and small ones, consisting of clergy and partly catechists. The usual range of activities of the cathedral: 1) elections, appointments, management of the activities of catechists, 2) issues of church administration, 3) distribution of material resources between churches. Interesting is the testimony of a participant in the councils of the head of the Mission in Korea, Archimandrite. Chrysanthes: “The enormous missionary experience of such a giant of spirit as Rev. Nikolai will immediately encourage the sufferer, destroy the depression of spirit, and dispel the dark clouds on his soul.” These annual councils of the Japanese Orthodox Church, in the absence of them in Russia under the Holy Synod, deserve special attention. In a country with such a small number of Christians, they needed to be in constant living contact for the success of preaching, and the need for fraternal meetings was especially felt. According to Bishop Nicholas, “everything happens there in the spirit of simplicity, mutual competition in preaching the Gospel, alien to envy and rivalry.” The first council was held in 1874 in Tokyo, 8 members participated, i.e., the entire existing clergy. At the second council in 1875, the first Japanese were elected as candidates for priest (Paul Sawabe) and deacon (John Sakai), already with 40 members, 24 clergy and 16 deputies of church communities. Subsequently, the number of council members reached 150. The council was initially convened in Tokyo. In 1887, it was considered convenient to convene it alternately in Tokyo for the northeastern communities and Osaka for the southwestern. In case of emergency, a council of the entire Church was convened in Tokyo. When convened in Tokyo in 1891, the cathedral met in the Church of the Resurrection. It opened with a prayer service by St. Peter and Paul; then followed the bishop's speech, emphasizing all the events of the past year. Everyone was allowed to attend the meetings without the right to vote, including non-Orthodox people and even pagans. At the closing of the cathedral there was again a prayer service and a farewell speech from the chairman. The main governing body of the Orthodox Church was the church council, chaired by Bishop. Nicholas with members - Tokyo catechists. In addition to preaching the Word of God, for its dissemination, the Mission published publicly available brochures and books, both original Japanese and translated from Russian. Without a good knowledge of the language, bishop. Nicholas could not directly manage all the affairs of the Mission, which he himself monitored in all its manifestations. Usually from 6 to 12 hours. The Bishop listened to the report of the Japanese secretary, read long Japanese correspondence, sometimes personally dictating answers or giving guidelines. Constantly and directly observing the entire life of his Church, Bishop. Nicholas traveled annually to communities throughout Japan, usually for two months. In recent years, he has traveled throughout his missionary area, over 2 thousand miles, baptizing, preaching, helping in word and deed. Bishop's tours were not a government audit, but a purely apostolic visit by a shepherd to his flock, usually accompanied by their priest. The memories of contemporaries have been preserved. An announcement was posted about the arrival of “Nikolai”. The flock arranged a heartfelt and touching meeting for the Bishop; the procession went to the church or to the house of prayer, where the arriving archpastor performed a short prayer service with a word, then read the lists of baptisms, marriages and deaths for the year. Christians spoke freely at the meeting with projects and questions; Baptisms were often timed to coincide with the arrival of the Bishop, and the Japanese favorite word “Objection,” which was always allowed, was often heard. At the end it was suggested to ask questions. The catechist, priest, and bishop gave speeches that usually lasted an hour and always made a strong impression on the listeners. Bonzes also sent students of Buddhist schools to meetings, which often caused chaos, but this rarely happened under the Lord, who also enjoyed great respect and authority among his opponents. The bishop's attention was especially drawn to children - the future support of Orthodoxy in Japan. He gathered children around him everywhere, talking affectionately, instructing, asking them about the main events of the Savior’s life. The Bishop was entirely in the interests of the smallest community. He usually spent 2–3 days everywhere and visited Orthodox families. From morning to night the work of Christ was in full swing; when everyone went to bed, the bishop did not sleep; At night, he carefully wrote down in a memory book everything he said and saw during the day, read extensive Japanese correspondence from other churches on long sheets of paper, then folded into a tube, and composed replies to letters. As soon as it was light he got up, in the morning he walked around the houses again or left for another community. 6. Divine service of the Orthodox Church in Japan With great labor Bishop. Nicholas, missionary work was created in Japan, based on the prayer of the saint. According to the reviews of his contemporaries-prayers, Vladyka served slowly, soulfully, and had an exceptional gift of preaching. His prayer involuntarily captivated not only ordinary visitors to the cathedral, but also Russian archpastors and pastors visiting Japan. A wonderful description of Easter night in Tokyo by Metropolitan Sergius of Japan, then assistant to Vladyka Nicholas, has been preserved. Evening of Holy Saturday, additional lanterns in the Mission courtyard; according to local custom, Easter cakes are decorated with red 8-pointed crosses; each community has its own room; everything brought for consecration is intricately arranged or elegantly decorated in some way. In a special room, under a lantern, pictures from the life of the Savior are shown. In the cathedral they apply to the Shroud during the reading of the Acts of the Apostles. At 12 o'clock there is no ringing at night, it is not prohibited, but simple prudence dictates not to wake up the sleeping population with them - after all, the million 800 thousand residents of the capital are not yet with Christ. With special Japanese lit candles, a procession of the cross goes out into the street: in front, in pairs, pupils and pupils of theological schools, choristers, deacons, 5 priests, finally, Bishops Nicholas and Sergius, behind them are officials of the Russian embassy and a crowd of believers. There are also people among the spectators who carefully and seriously look at what is happening, sometimes asking furtively: “Can non-believers come?” These are the future "Nicodemus". There are some with hats, but most without them. No laughter, no jokes. The temple is filled almost completely with Christians, among whom pagans also intervene. The faces of believers are joyful during the jubilant Easter hymns, and their souls become joyful. The service ends at 3:30 am. morning. The Bishop himself blessed the Easter cakes and Easter, until 6 o'clock. making Christ, giving each one an egg, of course, without kissing, which is not customary in Japan, but with several ceremonial Japanese bows. The Bishop usually distributed 600–800 eggs. Also, during the consecration of the cathedral in Tokyo in 1891, a silent large crowd with naked heads watched the procession. Prot. Vostorgov, who visited Japan, said: “When you look at these Orthodox Japanese standing decorously, reverently in the church, at the mothers bringing their children to the Holy Chalice, at the elder archbishop bending down to teach the Holy Gifts, you clearly see the power of Orthodoxy, its applicability to every place and time, its spiritual beauty that captivates the soul.” The selection of clergy in Japan took place at church councils that elected candidates. The Orthodox Japanese were very zealous about their elections; there were often disputes, even quarrels between communities that wanted to get the same candidate. An interesting review of the Orthodox clergy in a Japanese-English newspaper on February 10, 1890: “Piety, self-denial and noble zeal cannot find a better personification than the life of Bishop. Nicholas and his companions. We cannot find a more striking example of sacrifice on the altar of service.” Ep. Nicholas said that in Japan there was no dead, external, mechanical, formal attitude towards religious duties. In Moscow, Vladyka cited as an example Fr. Paul Sawabe, the first-born of Orthodoxy in Japan, who, overcome by religious feeling during the liturgy, became so immersed in prayer that the service stopped; this, however, did not tire the praying Japanese. “In terms of their love, they are definitely one family,” said Vladyka after touring a community on a Japanese island. Local fishermen considered the word of the elder of the Jacob community to be more reliable than a receipt. Bishop Nikolai did not attach as much importance to any of the diverse manifestations of the Mission’s activities as the translation department, seeing in it the essence of his missionary work. The Archbishop said that at present in no country can the work of the Mission be limited to verbal preaching. Given the special love of the Japanese for reading, a believer needs a book in his native language, in good style, carefully, beautifully and cheaply published. Vladyka observed the great benefit of Mission publications for preachers in disputes with heterodox missionaries. The printed word, according to Bishop’s conviction. Nicholas, should become the soul of the Mission. For the last 30 years of the Lord’s work, every day, exactly at the appointed time, an employee, Nahai-san, came in, sat next to him on a low stool with a cushion and began writing translations; work lasted from 6 to 10 hours. evenings, with the exception of the days of evening services and holidays, with the doors of the cell closed to everyone, which opened only for the silent servant Ivan-san, who served tea. The Bishop often repeated: “Even if the sky opens, I do not have the right to cancel the translation work.” The Bishop said to his interlocutor and friend Dmitry Pozdneyev, who stayed in Japan for 5 years: “I say not out of pride, but out of deep consciousness that in reality I can now translate liturgical books better than anyone else.” The Reverend wanted to focus his attention on this most important need of the Church. The Council of all the clergy of Japan, during the absence of the Bishop at the meeting, unanimously decided that not a single Japanese was capable of replacing the bishop. Nicholas in his work on translations. The Japanese language, with its hieroglyphic writing, is extremely difficult. Bishop Nicholas was very strict about the translation, correcting it a lot (for example, the Lord's Prayer 3-4 times), sometimes giving it to Orthodox Japanese scholars for review. At first, Vladyka also used the Chinese translation, but this did not satisfy him. According to Pozdneev, Archbishop. In his translations, Nikolai was a completely original worker, who, according to his principle, never read Catholic or Protestant translations. “It is better to overcome the difficulty of Japanese writing from your personal understanding of Orthodoxy,” he said. Vladyka did not want to submit to foreign translations, taking ready-made terms from them. The result of the translation work of Archbishop. Nicholas had a special theological Orthodox dictionary he developed in Japanese - a valuable contribution to science. Archbishop's terms Nicholas were accurate translations of Slavic and Greek words, and his Japanese represented complete news in Japanese literature. The archbishop always had Greek and Slavic texts and various necessary books by Russian theologians and scientists at hand. He looked through the interpretations of St. John Chrysostom. Assistant Nahai-san was chosen among Japanese Orthodox scholars for his deep knowledge of hieroglyphic writing, enormous hard work and devotion to Orthodoxy. Sometimes establishing one hieroglyph cost several hours of work by two workers. Sometimes archpastoral messages were sent throughout the Church asking the faithful to speak out about the translation of the corresponding text. Archbishop Nicholas also did not allow vulgar simplification of translations, preferring that the believer, with some effort, comprehend the correct, albeit more difficult, text of the translation. Translation activities developed widely with the Mission's move to Tokyo in 1872. The Orthodox worship opened there required the translation of all liturgical books. Father Nikolai began with the translation of the Sunday Circle, the Colored Triodion, the Lenten Triodion, and gradually the entire circle. At the same time, a translation of the Gospel was underway, published several times. All parts for the annual cycle of worship have been translated from the Old Testament. The cherished dream of the Apostle of Japan was the publication of the complete Bible. In 1910, 2 years before his death, Vladyka told Pozdneev that he needed another 5 years to complete his work. The assessment of the archbishop’s works is indicative. Nicholas by a modern American missionary: “Whatever they say about the translations of the archbishop. Nicholas, there can be no doubt that his translation of the book of the Acts of the Apostles and the Gospel of John is undoubtedly superior to all existing ones.” Under the control and supervision of the archbishop, at the Mission, Orthodox Japanese who graduated from the Theological Academy worked on the translation of the Gospel and liturgical books, and subsequently students of the seminary were also involved. 8. Theological seminary, catechetical school and women's spiritual education All religious educational schools in Japan, including Orthodox ones, were considered private; their completion did not give any rights recognized by the state. In 1882, the Mission built the buildings of a theological seminary and a women's school. In 1897, a beautiful new seminary building was built with $10,000 donated by the Heir, Tsarevich Nikolai Alexandrovich, who visited Japan in 1891 during a trip around the world. Unfortunately, the Tsarevich's stay in the Land of the Rising Sun was overshadowed by an attempt on his life in Otsu near Kyoto by a political fanatic, a Japanese policeman. This happened on Monday of St. Thomas Week, April 23, 1891. At the initiative and request of the Japanese themselves, thanksgiving prayers were held on the occasion of the salvation of the Heir (the future Emperor Nicholas 11). Bishop Nicholas, among other people, arrived in Otsu from Tokyo on a special emergency train. The heir told the Lord that he had overcome the temptation to hate the entire Japanese people because of one Japanese. The Japanese usually entered the seminary before baptism. The seminary course was seven years, with a special pedagogical class for training teachers. All teaching was conducted in Japanese, using Russian textbooks, which over time were also translated into Japanese. The seminary was first taught by Russian missionaries, then by Japanese who graduated from theological academies in Russia and a seminary in Tokyo. The original rector was the archimandrite himself. Nikolai, who taught dogmatic theology in high schools for a long time. Vladyka invested a lot of his meager personal funds in the cause of spiritual education, while he himself walked at home like a hermit, in a rough patched cassock, and walked along the streets with a cane in his hands. The catechetical school usually accepted Japanese adults for 2–3 years of study. An interesting description is of an Orthodox preaching house in Japan in the 90s of the 19th century, under the sign: “House for preaching the Orthodox faith.” Everything there was poor and simple. There was an icon on the wall of the room, a Gospel book in a small cabinet, and a catechist’s table in the corner. The catechist walked around the country on foot all year round, serving several communities, and the poor country roads contributed to the rapid wear of his shoes. The catechist's salary was negligible. In 1907, the school was closed, and only those who graduated from theological seminary could become catechists. In his district messages, Archbishop. Nicholas wrote that the Church cannot do without schools, otherwise the number of its ministers will become scarce, therefore the Japanese Church must be ready to accept them for its maintenance. The Archbishop always regretted the insufficient number of women employees of the Mission. In addition to Princess Putyatina, Maria Cherkasskaya, who later left for Palestine, was also an employee of the Mission. Orthodox Japanese women turned out to be excellent missionaries. Sometimes they were elected deputies of their community to the cathedral, and they helped wounded and captured soldiers a lot during the Russian-Japanese War. Princess Putyatina came to Tokyo to serve as a deaconess at the Mission in 1884. On her and gr. Orlova-Davydova's funds were used to open a women's church school in Tokyo for 100 students according to the program of Russian diocesan schools. The program was somewhat adapted to the practical life of a Japanese woman. Young catechists sometimes placed their brides in the school, later finding good assistants in preaching in their wives. There was an icon painting class at the school. Some churches were decorated with icons of Japanese writing. Another church girls' school in Kyoto typically taught 20 doctrines. 9. Publishing house and library of the Mission Archbishop Nicholas attached particular importance to the printed dissemination of the Word of God and theological and religious literature in Japanese. Already in 1896, the catalog of Japanese publications included 123 books and brochures. The Bishop proudly noted the ever-growing publication of Japanese Orthodox theological books and brochures. In 1903, 15 of them were published. In 1910, 19 editions. According to contemporaries, in 1912, without exaggeration, all Russian theological works recognized as classics were translated into Japanese. Archbishop Nicholas considered an excellent means of bringing Japan closer to Russia, especially for Japanese youth, by studying the Russian language and becoming familiar with our literature. “Let them translate and read our literature; Having learned Russian literature, one cannot help but fall in love with Russia,” he said. Unfortunately, it is precisely this side of the archbishop’s activities. Nicholas, so important for the cultural rapprochement of the two peoples, was especially little known in Russia. A number of works by Russian writers were translated into Japanese, ranging from Derzhavin, Pushkin, Krylov to Turgenev, Leo Tolstoy, Chekhov and others, ending with K. Balmont and Boris Zaitsev. A teacher at the Na-Bori-Semu Seminary published a history of Russian literature and a seminary course. Nabori was an excellent translator from Russian. The Mission had several periodicals at different times: the semi-monthly official journal of the Mission from December 15, 1880; a monthly publication of a women's school with theological and religious articles useful to Orthodox Japanese women; “Orthodox Conversation” is a monthly magazine exclusively containing articles, speeches and sermons to develop the Orthodox thinking of the Japanese. In 1912 Pozdneev said: “The Library of the Japanese Orthodox Mission is a truly amazing institution. How did the archbishop manage? Nikolay, only God knows how to put together such a wonderful collection of books.” The library was located in a special building with all precautions against fire. There were over 12 thousand volumes, mainly Russian, along with French, English, and German books. In addition, there was a rich collection of Japanese and Chinese publications. The Vladyka himself was in favor of the librarian. For the Japanese, the library was a sanctuary, where only persons devoted to scientific knowledge and endowed with the full confidence of the archbishop were allowed. Thanks to such a careful and loving attitude of the Bishop towards the book, the library was preserved in excellent condition. Only in recent years did Vladyka transfer his book creation into the hands of the rector of the seminary, Senum. From the very beginning of the Mission, Archbishop. Nicholas attached great importance to the transfer of Russian Orthodox sacred music to Japanese soil. The Bishop’s collaborators in this area were Tikhai and D.P. Lvovsky, who survived the rank of deacon at the Mission of Archbishop. Nicholas. The fruit of the long labors of both regents was the use of church singing in Japanese. The Orthodox choir in Tokyo, with one hundred mixed voices, before the death of the Bishop in 1912, became an adornment of the capital, competing with the choir of the highest music school. The icon painting department and the orphanage - evidence of the Bishop's living love for Japanese children - were created in the very last years of his life. 11. Archbishop Nicholas and the Orthodox Church during the Russo-Japanese War According to the same testimony of Pozdneev, the situation of the Orthodox Japanese and Bishop. Nicholas with the announcement of the Russian-Japanese War became extremely difficult. At the very end of the last century, the young Mission suffered the Sino-Japanese War, which greatly exacerbated the hostile suspicion of the Japanese towards foreigners and, especially, towards new Christians. The bishop and the congregation were faced with the question of two types of moral obligations for Orthodox Japanese during the war. Among the Orthodox Japanese, patriotism is crossed with natural gratitude to Russia, which brought them Orthodoxy. It was so easy for the young Church to go astray. Extreme patriotism would disturb the conscience of the Orthodox Japanese, which demands peace with the teachers of Orthodoxy; excessive sympathy for them, outwardly shown, would arouse the suspicion of their compatriots. The bishop's position was even more difficult, having to make personal decisions and lead an agitated flock. For a long time he had received numerous letters with the constant question: Should Orthodox Japanese actively participate in the war? Should the bishop have blessed his flock for the war with Russia? Back at the council in 1903, the Bishop gave a positively definite answer: “Fighting enemies does not mean hating them, but only defending your fatherland.” With the declaration of war, it is the duty of the Orthodox Japanese, although they accepted the faith from the Russian Church, to fight with Russia. The mood of the fanatical press was extremely hostile. All Orthodox Japanese were declared traitors and demanded the death of the bishop. The church was accused of political connections with the Russian government. Other newspapers wrote against Orthodoxy itself, seeing in some of the sacraments of the Church even a criminal offense. For example, in renouncing at baptism the errors of Buddhism, disrespect for the rituals of which was punishable by law. On the contrary, the government's attitude was quite correct. A circular from the ministry was sent out throughout the country, strictly observed by local authorities, on the non-mixing of religion with politics, freedom of Christian worship and rituals. The cathedral building was guarded by police and sometimes by troops. Bishop Nicholas wrote to the rector of the church in Berlin, Fr. Maltsev that Christians everywhere live peacefully, are faithful to their Church, worship is performed without hindrance, and preaching continues, although with very meager success. However, even in the war year of 1904, 656 people were baptized - clear evidence of the solid foundations of Orthodoxy in Japan. Should the bishop have remained in Japan, attracting the suspicion of the Russians? But how can one abandon the flock at the most dangerous time, with the constant possibility of falling away from Orthodoxy and the destruction of the Mission itself? The bishop, exposing his life to mortal danger, decided to stay. Upon the declaration of war, at a meeting on February 7, 1904, the flock unanimously asked Fr. Nicholas, whose life belonged to the Church, to stay with Her, assuring that they had taken measures for his and the Mission’s safety. The bishop replied that he had personally decided to stay in the same place near the cathedral, hoping that the activities of the Mission would not be disrupted, preachers would continue to preach the Gospel, students would continue to go to school, etc. He himself, the Bishop said, would take care of church administration and translations. He emphasized the duty of Orthodox Japanese to pray for the victories of their emperor and thank God for granting victories. “Christ himself shed tears over the fate of Jerusalem, and we must follow in the footsteps of the Teacher.” About himself, Vladyka said: “I, as a Russian subject, cannot pray for Japan’s victory over my Fatherland.” Therefore, throughout the war he did not take part in public worship, completely devoting himself to church work. According to Vladyka, during these years he did not read newspapers with rejoicing about the victory, with ridicule of Russia; having interrupted correspondence with his homeland, he was doomed to complete loneliness, with no one to utter a word with about the fate of Russia. According to Fr. Vostorgov, the Japanese not only did not blame him for his ardent patriotism, but were imbued with even greater respect. He earned such trust from the government that even during the war he traveled throughout the country unhindered. Bishop's district letters breathe the spirit of evangelical universal love. Nicholas: “The Lord was pleased to allow a rupture between Russia and Japan. May His holy will be done! In addition to the earthly Fatherland, we have the Heavenly Fatherland, to which all people belong without distinction of nationality, children of the Heavenly Father, brothers among themselves. This Fatherland is our Church. I will not part with you, I will remain in your family as in my own.” Everyone has their own duty to the Heavenly Fatherland. The Bishop indicated that he would pray for the Church, engaging in its work and translations. Priests will diligently shepherd the verbal flock entrusted by God, preachers will zealously preach the Gospel to those who have not yet known the true God. “All those who live peacefully at home and go to war, grow in faith and excel in all Christian virtues. Nevertheless, we will fervently pray for the restoration of the broken peace as soon as possible.” It is especially important for the universal spirit of the apostolic preaching of Bishop. Nicholas second district letter dated February 29, 1904 with a clearly and clearly defined attitude of the Orthodox Church to the royal power: “The Russian emperor is by no means the head of the Church. The only head of the Church is Jesus Christ (Eph. 1:22; Col. 1:18), whose teaching is carefully preserved intact by the Orthodox Church - and the Russian emperor, in observance of this teaching, is the same respectful son of the Church as all other Orthodox Christians; nowhere and never has the Church assigned him any authority in teaching and has not considered or called him its head.” This error in Western Europe, from ignorance of the Russian Church, spread to Japan, where it spread widely. “For you, he is nothing more than a brother in faith, just like all the Russians who share the same faith with you. The Russian Emperor does not have even a shadow of any religious power over you.” As a brother in faith, the Russian emperor only wishes the Orthodox Japanese to be good Christians, to observe all duties, as well as faithful devotion to their country and their emperor. The Church taught the Japanese about this view from the very beginning of the Orthodox Mission. Since the beginning of the war, the Orthodox Japanese fervently prayed for victory to be granted to their emperor; the warriors heroically went to defend their fatherland, asking for blessings and prayers from their priests. The Orthodox seminary, using the contributions of its students, compiled and donated tens of thousands of copies of Japanese-Russian phrase books to the army; An Orthodox girls' school sent its teachers to provide charitable service to the wounded. All Orthodox Christians joyfully donated and helped as much as they could for military needs. “Isn’t it as clear as day that Orthodoxy not only does not harm patriotic service to one’s fatherland, but, on the contrary, elevates, sanctifies and thereby strengthens it?” the Russian Orthodox bishop rightly asked his Japanese flock. The Bishop’s consolation in these sorrowful days was the reciprocal love of the flock, vividly shown to him on all sides. None of the Japanese ever increased his grief by expressing their national pride and joy. At the Council of 1904, outlining the entire difficulty of the situation of the Church, the Bishop exclaimed that thanks and praise should be given to God for the Church: it continues to exist peacefully, Christians zealously observe their duties. We must also thank the imperial government for its care. 12. Help of Orthodox Japanese to Russian prisoners of war During the war, the Orthodox Japanese, led by their archpastor, wrote the most beautiful page in the chronicle of the Mission by organizing spiritual consolation for Russian prisoners of war. The Orthodox Japanese showed themselves to be truly merciful Samaritans in relation to their fellow believers, enemies on the battlefield. According to the testimony of the prisoners, Vladyka Nikolai was their guardian angel, which they spoke about with tears. Russia knew so little about Orthodoxy in Japan that it was a complete surprise for prisoners of war who found themselves in a distant country to meet a Russian bishop and Orthodox clergy there. The unforeseen activities of the Mission were carried out by Bishop. Nikolai with the usual systematicity, love and was distinguished by diversity. On March 4, 1904, the Association for Spiritual Assistance to Prisoners of War was established; All Orthodox Japanese became its members with a certain monthly contribution. Anyone who provided help or donation was also accepted as members, without distinction of religion. The service of prisoners was entrusted to priests known to the Partnership who knew Russian. A detailed job description was drawn up. The government also reacted sympathetically to her, and many prominent Japanese signed up as members. A characteristic review of the Fellowship by its member, an English pastor: “During the current war, the Japanese Orthodox Church is performing such a highly humane public service that no one else is able to undertake, and we can only thank her.” At first, the prisoners were served by three young priests, who were especially active and knowledgeable of the language. The Mission's spiritual assistance expanded when the number of prisoners exceeded 73 thousand, served by 17 Japanese priests, including Rev. Paul Savabe, 7 deacons; even catechists were interrupted from preaching in places where prisoners were concentrated. The Bishop said that the Japanese Christians did not complain about this, rejoicing at least in this way to testify their gratitude for the care of their mother, the Russian Church. The bishop's letters of appeal are touching. Nicholas to help the prisoners in whatever way they can: a kopeck, an icon, a newspaper, etc. The Bishop especially asked for silver crosses on the body, costing 15 kopecks with a strong silk cord, but the Mission usually did not have money. He also asked for books. There were many illiterate soldiers among the captured soldiers; primers, grammars, anthologies, as well as literary and scientific books were needed for the officers who organized literacy schools and an excellent choir at the camps. The Bishop believed that this choir was even better than their cathedral choir in Tokyo. He supplied the priests with everything necessary for worship, and decorated the premises of prisoners of war with icons. In 1904, the Mission's reserve library distributed 2,211 religious books, 5,272 pamphlets, and 1,172 scientific and other books to prisoners of war. Evidence of the prisoners' love for the Japanese priests was the icons, vestments, and petitions for rewards presented to them. Captured officers wrote to their homeland with love about the bishop. Nicholas, and his encouraging letters to prisoners of war, like a shrine, were passed from hand to hand. About the Japanese priest, Fr. Sergius, a captured officer wrote to Bishop. Nicholas, that they rarely serve in Russia as reverently as he does, and his sermons captivate hearts. For their part, the Russian prisoners, with their humble resignation, piety, reverent attitude towards the sacraments of the Church, and their comradeship, served as a good example to young Japanese Christians. The Easter greeting of the Orthodox Japanese to Russian prisoners was especially touching: “In the light of this holiday, we turn to you. In this light, shining from above, the difference of nationality disappears. Those who have entered the circle of this radiance are no longer Jew or Greek, Russian or Japanese, but are all one in Christ, all constitute one family of the One Heavenly Father. A good mark will remain behind you; it will be indelible for our Church. Returning to your dear fatherland, tell them there that you met a small Church, brothers and sisters in faith, in a distant foreign land.” Ep. Nicholas did everything to give the prisoners the opportunity to spend Holy Week and celebrate Easter in an Orthodox atmosphere. Donations from Russia made it possible to give each person 2 eggs and candles; The Chief Prosecutor of the Holy Synod, K. P. Pobedonostsev, personally paid for the candles. 13. Last years and death of Archbishop Nicholas The highest rescript on October 9, 1905 gave such a high assessment of the Apostle of Orthodoxy in Japan: “Having devoted your service to the gospel of Christ from your youth, you have chosen a field for yourself in a foreign faith, spirit, and language to our Japanese people. Here, by the blessing of God, from those who came to you and sought the light of our faith, a small church flock gathered around you, and you showed before everyone that the Orthodox Church of Christ, alien to worldly dominion and all tribal enmity, equally embraces all tribes and all languages ​​with love. In difficult times of war, when the weapons of war are tearing apart the friendly relations of peoples and their rulers, you, according to the covenant of Christ, did not abandon the flock entrusted to you, and the grace of love and faith gave you the strength to withstand the fiery test of war and, in the midst of the hostility of the war, to maintain the peace of faith and prayer in the Church created by your labors. By this you have attracted the respect of not only the Russian Orthodox people, but also those of other faiths and foreigners.” March 24, 1906 His Eminence Nicholas, in view of his outstanding work in planting and spreading Orthodoxy in Japan and his Christian exploits during the last war with Japan, was elevated to the rank of archbishop with the title “Japanese”. The Lord did not forget the Russian soldiers killed and died in distant Japan, erecting monument churches on their mass graves with donations collected in Japan and Russia. To a church-monument near the mountains. Osaka Empress Alexandra Feodorovna sent 5 thousand rubles. It seemed that the Russian-Japanese War ended the trials of the Apostle of Japan. His awarding with the rank of archbishop encouraged and pleased the Church, which the good helmsman carried unharmed during the days of the war. They began to understand the archbishop in Russia, where societies for the study of cultural rapprochement with Japan were formed (the first of them was the Imperial Society of Oriental Studies), which elected the archbishop. Nicholas as an honorary member. Back in the 90s. he was elected an honorary member of his native St. Petersburg Theological Academy, which wrote about Orthodoxy in Japan as a brilliant page in the history of the entire Orthodox Church. The general admiration for a highly moral personality is caused by the exceptional feat and service to the Church of an ideally tuned and inspiredly focused preacher and teacher in our time. Faithful in his declining years to the ideal of enlightenment, the Bishop also created a Japanese language school for Russian children from Eastern Siberia; some of these students were his consolation in the cause of cultural rapprochement between Russia and Japan. The Vladyka’s bitter test was the aggravated need of the Church, since due to internal unrest in Russia, donations from the Motherland ceased. At the Council of 1907 there was a difficult mood, many shepherds cried, and it was necessary not to expand, but to contract. Naturally, the question arose about a successor to the elder archbishop, who dreamed that such a successor would be a Japanese bishop. For the fullness of church life, monasticism is necessary everywhere. The archbishop and his staff acquired a plot of land for a monastery in the Hakone Mountains. But unfortunately, the dream of national Japanese monasticism, which was close to being realized, failed. Therefore, I had to think about a deputy archbishop from Russia. Back in 1903, the Bishop wisely indicated that his successor could only be someone who knew the language and customs of Japan well, and who had studied them on the spot. In 1907, Bishop arrived in Tokyo. Andronik, who returned to Russia after 6 months. Then Vladyka waited in vain for an assistant and almost lost hope of receiving him. When “unexpected joy,” as he put it, a telegram from St. Petersburg Metropolitan Anthony arrived that the rector of the St. Petersburg Theological Academy, Bishop, was earnestly asking for help. Sergius (Tikhomirov). The Bishop immediately responded with a telegram: “Please appoint.” Appointed on March 21, 1908, as assistant to the head of the Mission in Japan, His Eminence Sergius, Bishop of Kyoto, arrived at the Mission in the summer. He quickly learned the language and preached beautifully; Earlier than a year after his arrival, he began touring communities without an interpreter. Archbishop Nicholas wrote about his assistant that the Reverend Sergius, it seems, is completely accustomed to Japan, shows himself to be an experienced missionary, and his service here is both useful and extremely necessary. The significant day of 50 years of service in the holy order of the Apostle of Japan was approaching, who had the highest award for an archbishop - a diamond cross on his hood and high Russian orders. The bishop's chronicle has been preserved. Sergius, who lovingly followed the life of his boss day after day. The Holy Synod congratulated the venerable hero of the day. In its greeting, the St. Petersburg Theological Academy reverently bowed to the greatness of the 50-year ministry of the Japanese saint, which began in the academic church of the 12 Apostles on the very day of their memory. Calling its honorary member for 20 years the most chosen of the chosen students, the Academy asked him for prayers for the new life opening up before it. Unfortunately, Vladyka met the day of his 50th year of priesthood on June 30, 1910, already unwell. Japanese from all over the country gathered in Tokyo for the elder’s anniversary; there were over 120 priests and catechists alone. The archbishop carried on his usual work, listening to reports from visiting priests about communities, catechists about preaching, and even kindly spoke to an old woman from remote areas of Japan. On the day of the anniversary itself, Vladyka served the liturgy, a prayer service, then was at a ceremonial dinner with honored guests, at a musical evening, and even at a meeting of girls’ school students, chatting animatedly there. The next day, the reception of deputations with the reading of greetings lasted over 4 hours. Lunch again in the mission yard with hundreds of guests. The Bishop especially warmly proposed a toast to the Emperor of Japan. Overwork and nervousness aggravated his heart disease and asthma. It became clear to those close to her that she was incurable. The Bishop could still serve with great effort on the first day of Christmas 1911, telling Bishop. Sergius: “I have already turned white and weakened. These are two periods of our church history - receding and impending. Well, may God grant you to serve here no less than I.” The next Christmas, 1912, the illness became so severe that it forced Vladyka to allow himself to be taken to St. Bows in Tsukinji. Newspapers published bulletins about the progress of the disease, many Orthodox Christians visited the ill archpastor. Bishop noted touchingly. Sergius: “The Lord left, as if the red sun had gone away. Everyone walks around cloudy, like on an autumn St. Petersburg day.” It was difficult for Vladyka to comply with the strict regime in the hospital; he was drawn back to his native Hill. The patient said: “I have so much work that needs to be completed before I die. There’s no point in wasting time in the hospital.” On January 23, he was transported to the Mission, where on his deathbed he tried to translate the Colored Triodion, constantly worrying about the unfinished translation of the Holy Scriptures. The last days of the saint have come, who said: “I feel that I am getting weaker every day. After all, since I can’t work, what kind of life is this? What do I need this for? – he pointed to his exhausted body. Continuing to work beyond his strength, the archbishop signed a report to the Holy Synod on the state of the Mission on January 30, and on the eve of his death he spoke for a long time with the bishop. Sergius about the 10-year work plan of the Mission, and on February 3, 1912, he peacefully reposed in the Lord. “I cried bitterly at the Vladyka’s bedside,” noted Bishop. Sergius. At 7 o'clock 15 min. In the evening, 12 funeral strikes, unusual for the Japanese, were heard from the Mission bell tower. At the ringing of the bell, the inhabitants of the seminary and girls' school came running in tears. According to the established rite, when the deceased archpastor was placed in the tomb, they wiped him with oil (from the tomb of St. Joasaph of Belgorod); dressed in all bishop's clothes; Bishop Sergius placed on him his mother-of-pearl panagia from Jerusalem with the Resurrection of Christ. This was symbolic, since the deceased erected a cathedral and several churches of the Resurrection of Christ and, while ill, raved, repeating the word “Resurrection.” The coffin was transferred to the Cross Church located above the apartment of the deceased, where funeral services were held with numerous worshipers. Ep. Sergius was especially shocked one night when Japanese school students, about forty, gathered at the tomb of the deceased with the Gospel and a candle in their hands, as if for the last lesson of the Law of God and the reading of the Gospel. So the Lord, as if from the grave, still enlightened Japan with the light of Christ. Elders and mothers with infants came at night, sitting on blankets in the church. The telegram of the Holy Synod, signed by Metropolitan Anthony, transferred temporary control of the Mission to Bishop. Sergius and ordered that the body of the deceased saint be given an honest burial with all splendor. The telegram ended with the words: “By the prayers of the archbishop reposed to the Lord. Nicholas, may the Lord send His mercy to the Orthodox Japanese Christians in their bereavement.” Sent condolences from the “Apostle of Altai,” Archbishop. Macarius, future Metropolitan of Moscow; Condolences came from all over. An admirer of the Vladyka, Mrs. Sinelnikova, wired 2 thousand rubles for his burial. The sad rite of burial was solemnly held, 4 funeral liturgies on 4 altars lasted from 5 o'clock. until 10 o'clock 30 min. morning. In the Resurrection Cathedral, the liturgy was celebrated by Bishop. Sergius, then followed by farewell to the deceased saint. Funeral service at 11 o'clock. morning was done in Japanese. Only His Eminence Sergius, Head of the Mission in Korea, Archimandrite. Pavel and others Bulgakov said some prayers and exclamations in Slavic. The church was crowded with worshipers. Hundreds of wreaths were laid. During the funeral service, a wreath was laid from the Emperor of Japan - an extremely rare honor for a foreigner. Present in the church were: the Japanese prince, ministers, the Russian envoy, foreign and heterodox representatives, etc. Along the path of the funeral procession, tens of thousands of Japanese gave their last bow to the Apostle of Japan. In a strong wind, with banners lowered, we moved to the cemetery. Pupils and pupils of theological schools in uniform clothes walked in pairs with a palm tree in their hands - a symbol of the triumph of preaching Orthodoxy in Japan to the deceased. Many catechists wore surplices. The Bishop was buried on February 9, at his own request, in the Yanaka cemetery, where, during the singing of “Eternal Memory” at 3:30 a.m. day the coffin was lowered into the constructed crypt. By evening, the grave was already decorated with camellias, cypresses, palm trees and other plants. Faithful to his boss, Bishop. Sergius had the idea to build a monument there such as the soul of the Lord awaits: above the grave there is a 2-story Church of the Resurrection of Christ. Dedicate the 2nd floor to St. and the Wonderworker Nicholas (May 9 - the day of remembrance of the Bishop). Here it would be possible to perform services and conversations with pagans, that is, the grave would preach Christ. Metropolitan Nestor narrates how 5 years before his death, the deceased, seriously ill and caring about an unfinished translation of the Holy Scriptures, exclaimed: “Death, let me live another 5 years so that I can finish my work.” Death then retreated from him. In Tokyo, the municipality discussed the issue of the name of a bridge being restored after destruction by an earthquake. They wanted to call it “Nicholas”, since it went from the cathedral called “Nicholas” to the church of the revered bonze. They decided to call it “Bridge of Saints”, since both Orthodox Japanese and pagans revered the archbishop. Nicholas to Saints. In the obituary of the Right Reverend Nicholas in the Church Bulletin of February 3, 1912, it was said that his name is associated with a brilliant page in the history of the missionary activity of the Russian Church of modern times, in which apostolate and asceticism did not dry out. Prot. Vostogov, in his speech before the memorial service on February 5, 1912 in the Church of the Missionary Society in Moscow, said: “After the emperor, there was no person in Japan who enjoyed such fame in the country.” “Nicholas” was the name of the Orthodox Cathedral, the Mission, and Orthodoxy itself. “Judging by humanity, it becomes a pity that Russia gave away its most precious thing - a great holy man. But our eye should not be envious, especially spiritual gifts, remembering that in the Church of Christ there are no Greeks and Jews.” As an honorary member of the Russian-Japanese Society and the Imperial Society of Oriental Studies, he especially vividly and impartially depicted the image of the deceased Dm. Later The deceased was an apostle who left behind over 30 thousand Orthodox Japanese and over 200 churches. According to reviews of those who knew the Far East, Archbishop. Nicholas is the greatest figure in Japanese missionary history. He is also a major statesman. Russia will always be proud of the name of Archbishop. Nikolai Kasatkin. He is an ascetic, kind, sympathetic, full of love. Along with his gentleness, he was a man with an iron will, an administrator who found a way out of every difficulty. Along with sociability, through long bitter experience, he acquired restraint. It was difficult to earn trust and his frankness. He could also be cold, even harsh with people whom he considered necessary to educate with strict measures, punishing and stopping. With childish naivety, he combined the broad ideals of a great statesman's mind, endless love for the Motherland, suffering with her suffering, tormenting her with torment. The essence of the personality of the archbishop. Nicholas in broad and holy ideals and inexhaustible diligence. Dm. Later, he deeply correctly said about the deceased: “What penetrated him was what he kept within himself for no earthly purpose.” Ep. Sergius in a letter called him “the great Equal-to-the-Apostles Nicholas.” In 1908 He gave in print the following assessment of the last years of the preaching of the Apostle of Japan: “Over 1,000 baptisms in each last year is evidence of the Mercies of God already poured out on the Japanese field, and a guarantee of its further prosperity if the working people continue to work, but do not sleep.” The fruit of half a century of preaching work by Archbishop. Nicholas is a modern Japanese national Church, numbering up to 35 thousand Orthodox Japanese and 5 thousand foreigners and served by the Japanese themselves in their native language. This is a diocese of the North American and Canadian Metropolis, now headed by His Grace Irenaeus, Bishop of Tokyo and All Japan. There are about 500 thousand of all Christians in the country, constituting only 0.5% of the 90 million pagan population, “a spoonful of salt,” in the words of Metropolitan. Sergia (Tikhomirova): “A spoonful of salt gives taste to food, a pound of salt protects food from rotting.” Abraham, archimandrite, “The first evangelist of Orthodoxy in Japan, Archbishop Nicholas (Kasatkin)” // “Eternal”, Paris, 1956, No. 7–8 p. 20. “Patriarch Sergius and his spiritual heritage,” M. 1947, p. 20. In the spring of 1893, Hieromonk Sergius received a decree from St. Petersburg about his transfer to Russia. "In the Far East." Letters of a Japanese missionary, Sergiev Posad 1897. In our edition we reproduce their text from the 1909 edition. The publishers considered it possible to bring the names of some Japanese cities and settlements into line with modern spelling and to unify the spelling of some Japanese words found in the text. For information on the life and apostolic works of Archbishop Nicholas, see the appendices to this publication. The last council in 1897 announced an increase in this norm by 2 yen: 10, 12, 14. The sermon was not public. About him above, in the Itsikisiri metric. Lies on the western shore of the island. Ezo is somewhat north of Cape Wofui or Melespina (on European maps). The text is printed according to the publication “Eternal”, No. VII–VIII, Paris, 1956. You might be interested in: