IV. Воспоминания

Priest Vasily Shustin 474 Father Barsanuphius of Optina In the world about. Barsanuphius's name was Pavel Ivanovich Plikhankov. He came from the Orenburg Cossacks, graduated from the Polotsk Cadet Corps and graduated from the Orenburg Military School with the rank of officer. In St. Petersburg, he graduated from Cossack officer staff courses. Participated in border battles in Turkestan 475. Served at the headquarters of the Kazan district. He was born on July 5 and considered Rev. Sergius of Radonezh as his patron. “I had to,” said Father, “to hold receptions for work, invite an orchestra, organize dances; there were cards and wine. This really bothered me. It would be better to use the money that was spent on these ceremonial receptions for other purposes. But my service at headquarters forced me to do this.” Father Barsanuphius spoke about his meeting with Fr. John [of Kronstadt] in Moscow: “When I was still an officer, my service had to go to Moscow. And then at the station I find out that Fr. John serves mass in the church of one of the buildings. I immediately went there. When I entered the church, mass was already ending. I went to the altar. At this time Fr. John carried St. Gifts from the throne to the altar. Having put the cup down, he suddenly comes up to me, kisses my hand and, without saying anything, goes back to the throne 476. Everyone present looked at each other and said afterwards that this meant some event in my life, and decided that I would be a priest. I made fun of them, since I never even thought of taking the priesthood. And now you see how inscrutable the fate of God is: I am not only a priest, but also a monk.” At the same time, Father Fr. Barsanuphius said, among other things: “You must not leave the church before the end of mass, otherwise you will not receive the grace of God. It’s better to come to the end of the mass and survive than to leave before the end...” Another Optina hieromonk, Varsis, told me that the same incident happened to him as to me, when Fr. John communed with me with two particles of the Body of the Lord. This, in his opinion, was an indication of his monasticism. Father Barsanuphius could not explain this incident, but said that it undoubtedly meant something important. In general, the Elder attached great importance to the actions of the priest after he received communion. “It happened to me several times,” the Elder said, “you serve mass, receive communion, and then go to receive the people. They express their needs to you. Other times you immediately find it difficult to give a definite answer, you tell him to wait. You will go to your cell, think it over, settle on some decision, and when you come to say this decision, you will say something completely different from what you thought. And this is the real answer and advice, which, if the questioner does not fulfill, will bring upon himself the worst misfortune.” This is God's invisible grace, especially clearly manifested in old age, after communion of the Holy Mysteries. And then Father fell ill with pneumonia. Doctors determined the situation was hopeless. Yes, and Father, and then Colonel Pavel Ivanovich Plikhankov, felt the approach of death and ordered his orderly to read the Gospel, but he himself forgot... And here he had a wonderful vision. He saw the heavens open and shuddered all over with great fear and light. His whole life flashed instantly before him. He was deeply imbued with the consciousness of repentance throughout his life and heard a voice from above commanding him to go to Optina Pustyn. Here his spiritual vision opened. He understood the depth of the words of the Gospel. I heard the elder Fr. speak several times. Nektary: “From a brilliant military man, in one night, by the will of God, he became a great old man.” This was Father's secret. It became possible to talk about her only after his death. To the surprise of everyone, the sick colonel began to recover quickly, recovered and left for Optina Pustyn. At that time Fr. was an elder in Optina. Ambrose. He told him to finish all his work in three months, with the understanding that if he did not arrive on time, he would die 477. And here Father began to face various obstacles. He came to St. Petersburg for his resignation, but they offered him a more brilliant position and delayed his resignation. His comrades laugh at him, payment of money is delayed, he cannot pay for everything he needs, he looks for money on loan and does not find it. But the elder, Barnabas from the Gethsemane monastery, helps him out, shows him where to get money and also urges him to fulfill God’s command. People oppose his departure, even find him a bride... Only his stepmother was happy and blessed him for his monastic feat. With God's help, he overcame all obstacles and appeared in Optina Pustyn on the last day of his three-month sentence. Elder Ambrose lay in a coffin in the church, and Father clung to his coffin 478. Elder Ambrose's successor, Elder Anatoly [Zertsalov], gave Father the obedience to be a servant under Hieromonk Nektarios (the last great Elder of Optina). Around about. Nektaria o. Barsanuphius went through all the monastic degrees for ten years, up to hieromonk, and studied theoretically and practically the Holy Fathers. In 1904 he was sent to the Far East to serve the infirmary named after St. Seraphim of Sarov, and upon returning from the front he was appointed abbot of the Optina monastery. This is where I found him. While attending religious student meetings in St. Petersburg, I had the opportunity to meet one student of the Theological Academy - Vasily Prokopyevich Tarasov. I thoroughly enjoyed his heart-stopping sermons. Once in his sermon he touches on the issue of eldership. Just at that time I was re-reading The Brothers Karamazov, and I was very interested in the type of Elder Zosima. I approached Tarasov and asked if he knew whether such gracious elders existed at the present time. He answered me that the eldership, by continuity, still exists, and such elders are located in Optina Pustyn. I had no idea about Optina Pustyn. To get acquainted, he advised me to read the biography of the elder Fr. Ambrose. I read it, and my desire was inflamed to definitely see these elders. It was not only curiosity, but also some kind of internal gravity; I felt especially spiritually orphaned after the death of Fr. John of Kronstadt. During one of Tarasov’s visits to our family, I suggested that we go together to Optina Pustyn. He agreed. Another student of the Mining Institute, Ivan Mikhailovich Serov, joined us. And so the three of us, at the beginning of the summer vacation of 1910, went to Optina Pustyn. Pustyn is located in the Kaluga province, two miles from the city of Kozelsk. It is located in a picturesque area, on the high bank of the Zhizdra River and is surrounded by a centuries-old pine forest. The last access to it is by ferry. When we arrived in the morning, there were no free rooms in the hotel, and the hotel monk suggested that we stay in an empty dacha that belonged to General Maksimovich. This was even more convenient for us: here we won’t embarrass anyone. A teenage boy brought us a samovar, and we relaxed, drinking tea and special rolls made from hard prosphora dough. It was 9 o'clock in the morning. We decided to immediately go to the elder. First we went to the hotel and asked where the elder lived here. He told how to get to the Skete and where you can see the elder Fr. Joseph, former cell attendant Fr. Ambrose. At first we thought that this was the only elder of Optinsky. A winding path through a dense forest led to the monastery hermitage. On the way we met novices and monks, and they all bowed to the waist with their eyes downcast. This silence, these silent bows somehow mysteriously acted on the soul, preparing it for something more. Then the Skete appeared, surrounded by a wooden wall. Directly there was a large, deep gate, above which rose a bell tower. In the depths of the gate on both sides were painted images of St. John the Baptist and the Egyptian desert dwellers. On the outside of the wall, on both sides of the gate, there were porches through which women entered the elders. Women were not allowed inside the Skete. We entered the Skete through a small gate at the gate and were immediately struck by the fragrance of the air, it came from the rose bushes and flower beds. Everywhere was immaculately clean. The gatekeeper immediately came out of the cell and asked us who we wanted to see. Having learned that we had come to Elder Joseph, he pointed us to his house to the right. The door was locked - we knocked. The cell attendant came to us and said that Father was very weak and was unlikely to receive us, but he still went and reported that three students had arrived from St. Petersburg. Elder Joseph allowed us to be admitted into the reception room. After some time, we saw a gray-haired, weak, short Elder. He brought us three leaflets from the publication of the Trinity-Sergius Lavra and asked us to forgive him for being very weak and unable to talk to us. He blessed us, each individually, and gave us a piece of paper. We went out, sat on a bench among the flower beds and began to read the leaves. I came across a piece of paper entitled: “What is culture,” where the idea was expressed about the harm of false culture on the spiritual development of a person, since it has a relaxing effect on the human will. Sitting in the garden, we did not see a single monk. It turns out that according to the rules, skete monks do not have the right to visit each other without the permission of the elder. Each monk and novice had a separate cell, and there were two such cells in each house. The houses were scattered among the fruit trees, small, white with green roofs. There was also a cemetery here. After sitting on a bench in complete silence for half an hour, we went to our dacha. On the way back, we met a young monk with an intelligent face, who, after greeting us, stopped and asked where we were from. “It’s nice to see,” he said, “such young people, students, striving for the one Truth of God, and that’s why I want to get to know you. Tolstoyan students often visit us here. Some of them - inveterate, stubborn, with great conceit - remain inaccessible to the grace of God, but sincere people, thanks to the prayers and conversations of the great elder Fr. Barsanuphius, become true sons of the Orthodox Church. Have you seen this Elder? We replied that we did not know about him, but were with Elder Joseph. “Elder Joseph will not give you that, he is very weak in health and only leads the sisters of the Shamordino monastery, which was founded by Elder Ambrose. Our elder, the elder of the brethren, is the abbot of the Skete, Fr. Barsanuphius. Now in the morning he is busy with business orders and letters, and he has been receiving since two and a half hours. Be sure to visit him and receive great consolation.” With these words he moved on. We returned to our place at 11 o'clock, just in time for lunch. Male pilgrims can attend a common monastic meal. But for the first time, they brought us lunch to our room. Lunch consisted of pearl barley soup, boiled fish and buckwheat porridge; The portions were very large, along with black rye sweetish bread. They brought wonderful kvass for drinking. After lunch we lay down for a while and went to explore the monastery. It occupied a fairly large area, surrounded by a stone wall at the four corners of which metal angels with trumpets were erected; The angels rotated in the wind and made a special creaking sound, which constantly awakened the attention of pilgrims. There were three large churches inside the monastery fence. The main church was dedicated to the icon of the Kazan Mother of God 479. The Optina elders were buried near the altar of this church: Macarius, Leo (Leonid), Anatoly, Ambrose (and later Joseph and Barsanuphius). A tomb was erected over each grave, and unquenchable lamps burned. Here, almost throughout the whole day, funeral services were performed by successive hieromonks. Right next to it, between the churches among the fruit trees, the remaining members of the monastery brethren were buried. When examining the monastery, I was surprised that I did not see any plate or mug for collection anywhere. Previously, under the influence of the judgments of our society, the conviction took root in me that monks are parasites and try by all means to rob pilgrims, threatening them with future torment if they do not show their generosity. Here the spirit of love and non-covetousness reigned, and everyone tried to serve you freely, although no one knew you. But for some reason everyone asked us if we were Tolstoyans. Having examined the monastery and visited the churches, we went through the eastern gate to the Skete to the elder - abbot of the Skete, Fr. Barsanuphius. His reception had already begun, and the doors were open. Through a small glass balcony we entered a corridor, along the walls of which there were benches. Usually, from time to time, the Elder’s cell attendant would come out here to the visitors and ask who they were and where they were from, and report to the Elder. But now, we haven't seen it. As soon as the three of us entered the corridor, the door from the Elder’s cell opened, and he, in extraordinary beauty, appeared before us - tall, stately, majestic, with a head covered with white silver hair without any shade of yellow. There was a gentle smile on his face. He spread his arms and said: “Finally, the trinity I had been waiting for for a long time appeared to me. What took you so long to come here? I was waiting for you. Please, please come here,” and received us into his cell. We approached him with trepidation for his blessing, he patted each of us on the head. He himself stood in the doorway, and ordered us to go forward and place ourselves wherever we wanted. I sat down in a chair near the iconostasis and began to examine the cell. It was small; in the corner there were several images with a lamp, in front of them stood a lectern. The furnishings of the room consisted of a table, a sofa and three armchairs. Part of the room was separated by a curtain, behind which was the Elder’s bed. Portraits of former elders hung on the walls. As soon as we settled in. The elder entered the room and immediately approached me: “Look what you are! I stood in the doorway and looked to see who would sit where, and you just sat down in the elder’s place!” I stood up in embarrassment and said: “Sorry, Father, I didn’t know, I’ll change seats now.” And he put his hands on my shoulders and sat me down again and said: “You wanted to be an elder, and maybe you will be one,” and he raised his eyes and began to look up... Then he looked at me and continued: “My heart aches for you, you will not graduate from college. I don’t know why, but you won’t finish.” Later, on my other visits to Optina, he told me: “Quit the institute and help your father.” But I was passionate about the institute, I wanted to acquire knowledge, so I told Father: “Let me study, I’m interested in this.” He looked at me with a smile and said: “Well, if you want, study,” but you still won’t finish.” And so it came true: first my illness, then the German war and, finally, the civil war, did not allow me to graduate from college. Father rang the bell. The cell attendant appeared and ordered him to put on the samovar and prepare tea. And he sat down with us and began to talk. At first he remembered St. Petersburg, where he was when he studied at officer courses: – It was a long time ago, I was then assigned to the Preobrazhensky Regiment and I kept going to church, to the Transfiguration Cathedral... I went to early mass every day. This is how my stepmother taught me, and how grateful I am to her now! It used to be in the village of 480, when I was only five years old, she woke me up every day at 6 o’clock in the morning. I didn’t want to get up, but she pulled off the blanket and forced me to get up, and I had to go, no matter what the weather, a mile and a half - to mass. Thanks to her for such upbringing! She showed her good persistence and instilled in me a love for the church, since she herself always prayed fervently. After these memories, he moved on to the topic of Tolstoy. Great evil is Tolstoy’s teaching, how many young souls it destroys! Previously, Tolstoy really was a torch in literature and shone in the darkness, but later his lantern went out, and he found himself in the darkness and, like a blind man, wandered into a swamp, where he got stuck and died. At the death of Tolstoy, Fr. Barsanuphius was, by order of the Synod, sent to the Astapovo station to accept the repentance of the dying man and to include him again in the bosom of the Church, but was not allowed into Tolstoy’s room by the people surrounding Tolstoy. It was always difficult for Father Barsanuphius to talk about this; he was very worried. While Father was talking with us, the cell attendant brought tea in glasses; He put honey from his own monastery hives, jam and olives on the table. The father began to treat them like a hospitable host, he himself put honey and jam on the plates. He ordered another voluntary donation of pressed caviar, spread it on white bread in a thick layer, and convinced us not to be shy. He himself went to the women’s quarters to bless those gathered, and from the men he did not accept anyone else for conversation, he only gave a blessing. Having learned that we had arrived here for a week and a half, he divided the days of our festivities and the days of our fasting. He also blessed us to go to the Shamordino monastery. Then, at parting, he took my head and pressed it to his chest, caressing me with great love and expressing regret that I would not graduate from college. This treatment of me by the Elder surprised me and touched me to tears - I did not know parental affection. The next day we again came to Fr. Barsanuphius at the reception hour. Again he invited us to his cell, ordered the cell attendant, Fr. Gregory, prepare tea for us, and he himself went to the reception room to confess to those who were fasting. We sat in his cell quietly, with reverence, occasionally only exchanging words. Finally, Father appeared again - bright, joyful - and began to treat us. Then he started a conversation about various sects: Khlysty, Baptists, etc. – Here are the Baptists-rebaptists, what a terrible sin they commit against the Holy Spirit by rebaptizing adults: they wash away the first baptism and destroy the grace of the seal of the gift of the Holy Spirit! After talking for an hour, he stood up and said: – I have the custom of blessing my spiritual children with icons. I have a lot of them in my drawer and a wide variety of them, and so I prayerfully take the first icon I come across and see whose image is there. Other times it says a lot. So the Elder took out the icon for me and looked at what image there was. It turns out that he came across an image of the icon “Quench My Sorrows.” – What kind of great sorrows will you have? - and, holding the icon, he thought. - No, the Lord does not open. He blessed me with it and again pressed my head with affection. And here, on the Elder’s chest, you feel the depth of peace and voluntarily surrender to it with all your heart. This love of his embraces you and protects you, and captivates you... “Tomorrow,” he says, “is Sunday, today go to the all-night vigil, and in the morning at 6 o’clock come to the Skete for mass.” He walked us to the porch and blessed us again. Arriving at our place, we heard the bell ringing for dinner in the monastery refectory and went there. The refectory occupied a very large room, since there were about 400 monks in the monastery. The tables were arranged in a large quadrangle; in the middle, on a raised platform, there was a lectern. On this elevation, the monks take turns reading the Lives of the Saints during lunch and dinner. On each table there was a utensil consisting of a wooden plate, spoon and fork. Black bread lay on everyone's plate. In addition, many vessels with kvass were placed on the table, and there were ladles with them. At the ringing of the abbot or his cell attendant, prayer was performed, and at the second ring, the doors from the kitchen, which was located nearby, opened, and novices carried large bowls to the tables. Each bowl was shared by four monks. Whoever wanted it put it on his plate, otherwise for the most part four of us ate from one bowl. After the meal, we went to our place to sit and gain strength for standing during the all-night vigil. The all-night vigil began at six and a half o'clock in the evening and ended at eleven and a half o'clock at night. All the monks had to gather for the all-night vigil, leaving their work. In the church, along the walls, there were raised seats. Almost every monk had a specific place. The monks closest to us gave up their seats to us because, they said, the service was long and we would be very tired. No matter how hard it was for us because we weren’t used to it, we still stuck it out and made it to the end. In the morning we got up at the beginning of the sixth hour and went to mass at the Skete. Elder Barsanuphius himself served. He served calmly, in an even, quiet voice. The situation itself, some darkness, dark gilded icons contributed to the emergence of prayer. After mass, letting us kiss the cross, he invited us to immediately come to him for a cup of tea. Here he treated us again, like a warm, hospitable host. He asked us about our city life and who we were acquainted with. Again, with great affection and kindness, he let us go and invited us to dinner at the skete refectory at eleven and a half o'clock, which we took advantage of. The order in the skete refectory was the same as in the monastery. Only the fasting regulations were stricter here: dairy in the Skete was allowed only during the oil week and Bright week, and the rest of the time everything was on vegetable oil; on Wednesday and Friday there was food without oil at all. Father Barsanuphius was present at the meal and seated the three of us next to him, and we ate from the same bowl. “We have healthy food here,” he said, “because everything is done with blessings and prayer.” Every morning at five o'clock the cook comes and asks for blessings to light the stove. Having received this blessing, he goes with a flashlight to the church of God, prays and takes fire from the unquenchable lamp in front of the miraculous icon of the Mother of God and then lights the stove with this fire. After lunch, the Elder went to his place to rest and told us to go and rest, and the next day he blessed us to go to the Shamordino Monastery. Having returned from Shamordin, we began fasting. According to the monastic charter, the laity had to eat food without oil two days before Holy Communion. A special table was always prepared there especially for fasting people. During fasting you need to go to all monastic services. And services there on weekdays were distributed in this way. From three and a half to five and a half hours, Vespers was held and the canons were read. Then at seven o’clock there is dinner, and at eight and a half o’clock there are evening prayers in a special church. Then they go and rest until twelve and a half o'clock at night. At half past twelve the bell rings for morning. The latter lasts until four o'clock in the morning. From four to five, the canons and prayers were read before communion. We were so tired during the night that we just fell asleep. After early mass, which ended at seven o'clock, we went to Fr. Barsanuphius. He put his hand on his head, and all the fatigue disappeared, and vigor appeared. He confessed to us during the day. At first, before confession, he usually held general conversations. Using various incidents from life, he pointed out the forgotten or doubtful sins of those present. There was one case with me. Our family had its own subscription in St. Petersburg to opera performances at the Mariinsky Theater. And so, it was a year before my arrival in Optina, our subscription included “Faust” with Chaliapin, just before December 6, the day of St. Nicholas the Wonderworker. I really wanted to listen to this opera with Chaliapin. Well, I think I won’t have to go to the Vespers, so I’ll get up early the next day and go to Matins. And I entered into such a compromise with myself. I went to the opera, in the morning, belatedly, I attended matins, and then early mass, and thought: “Well, today I honored the memory of the saint of God, St. Nicholas.” Although something pricked my soul, it was forgotten. And so Father, before confession, says that there are times when you do not even suspect your sins. Like, for example, instead of honoring the memory of such a great saint of God as Nicholas the Wonderworker, on December 6th and going to the all-night vigil, but then they go to the theater for self-pleasure. The saint of God is relegated to the background, and so the sin is committed. Then there was another incident, in the Golutvin Monastery. There, women and men fasted together, and Father talked in one reception room: there must have been about 15 people fasting, men and women. And so Father says: “One young lady fell in love with a young man, but he did not reciprocate her feelings and courted another. Then a feeling of jealousy arose in the young lady, and she wanted to take revenge on the young man. She took advantage of the fact that he always went skating at the same skating rink where she went. The thought flashed through her mind: “I’ll cripple him, so that my rival doesn’t get him either.” And so, when he rolled, she deftly tripped him, he fell back and broke his arm. But thank God, he could have gotten a concussion and died. And it would be capital murder. And such cases are often forgotten in confession. During this story, I felt that someone’s fingers dug into my shoulders. I looked around and saw that an 18-year-old girl, my relative, had grabbed onto me, turning white as a sheet. I thought that she simply felt sick from the stuffiness, and supported her. She then tells me: - But it was Father who described me! It was my secret, how could he know?! Father always had such conversations before confession, opening the souls of those present; at the same time, he did not look at anyone, so as not to embarrass and clearly indicate. After the conversation, the Elder conducted a general confession. He gave one of those fasting a breviary, which described the procedure for confession and the confessional prayer, which listed the sins common to each person. At the same time, Father demanded and attached great importance to the fact that the fasting person listened to prayer in church before confession. He refused to confess unless this prayer was answered. But sometimes he condescended to the person and read it himself before confession, which he did for me, a sinner. After this general confession, he confessed to each one separately, treating each one very carefully and with love, healing the soul of each one. (If, he said, we adhered to the resolution of the Ecumenical Councils, then penance should be imposed on everyone, and many should be temporarily excommunicated from the Church, but we are weak, weak in spirit, and therefore we hope for the endless mercy of God.) Blessing those who fast, he advised after Vespers, at which the canons are read, not to eat anything until the reception of the Holy Mysteries. In exceptional cases, he was allowed to drink one tea. I told the Elder what happened to me at Fr. John of Kronstadt, when I, who ate meat during the day, Fr. John allowed him to take communion the next day. Father Barsanuphius said: - Yes, oh. John was a great man of prayer, a daring ascetic; he could ask the Lord for everything and pray for everything, but I am a sinful person, I do not have such boldness and therefore I do not dare to allow violations of the rules for the laity in the monastery. But it’s not difficult to talk for two days, and besides, it’s often useful. Now go in peace. May the Lord help you to partake of the Holy Mysteries, and after mass, come and have tea with me. And we went calm and peaceful in our souls. At half past four we went to vespers, at eight o'clock we went to evening prayers and immediately went to bed, since at twelve o'clock we had to get up for morning. Thanks to Father’s prayers, we responded easily, partook of the Holy Mysteries at early mass, and went straight to the Elder to drink tea. He greeted us with joy and thanksgiving to God. He treated us and warned us that sometimes on the day of Communion there is a painful mood, but we should not pay attention to this and should not despair, since on this day the devil especially takes up arms against a person and acts on him with hypnosis. At the same time, Father said that hypnosis is an evil, non-Christian force. – Thanks to this hypnosis, the devil confuses us, the clergy, when we perform the Liturgy. He cannot approach the altar, which is surrounded by Angels, and so the devil inspires thoughts of doubt and blasphemous thoughts. But with prayer and God's help they are driven away. In the same way, the newly appeared game is football... Don't play this game and don't go to watch it, because this game is also introduced by the devil, and its consequences will be very bad. After tea he sent us for a walk. I did not advise going to bed during the day on the day of Holy Communion. On the advice of Father, we went for a walk before lunch, and in the monastery to visit another hieromonk, Anatoly 481, the confessor of the common people. This is also a wonderful old man, similar to St. Seraphim, hunched over and with a constantly cheerful face, as if it were imagining that he would now speak like the reverend. Seraphim: “My joy!” He received us very warmly and led us into his room. His cell was quite spacious, but all his tables and chairs were occupied with spiritual leaflets and images. He asked us where we were from, blessed us and gave us leaves. When he blesses, his reverent concentration is immediately visible. He usually blesses earnestly, several times, touching his forehead with his fingers to stimulate concentration. After the fast, we lived for two more days and parted ways. I went to Moscow, then to Kazan and the Sarov Desert. Before leaving, I asked the Elder for his blessing, but he was silent to my request. I repeated my request three times. Then he reluctantly said: This puzzled me somewhat, and when I arrived in Sarov, it turned out that there was black smallpox and there were dying pilgrims and monks. I stayed there for two days, but never went to Diveevo, because my driver refused to take me, saying that the road was very bad. Then I understood the Elder’s reluctance to this trip. About two months later I came to Optina again with my sister, on her personal matters. I have been to Optina more than once. One day, when I arrived there, the Elder felt unwell and asked me to walk with him around the Skete. Since he was weak, he put his hand on my shoulder and, leaning on me, went out into the garden. Then he showed me a row of trees - cedars, planted at some angles. “These trees,” he said, “were planted by Elder Macarius in the form of a wedge-shaped letter. On this piece of land, a great secret is written with the help of trees, which will be read by the last elder of Skete 482. Then he pointed to the trees he himself had planted. Finally, he stopped in front of the tombs of the monks and began to bless the graves. – These are the graves of my spiritual children. This is where a private associate professor of the Moscow University of L is buried. He was a mathematician and astronomer! Studying the higher sciences, he bowed to the greatness of creation and [its] Creator. A fellow professor and his wife, who was a doctor of medicine, mocked him. He was a student of the famous professor Lebedev. L.'s wife, while working at a clinic, fell in love with a professor and fled to Paris with her children. L. was very sad and after several years he came to us to find relief for his grief here, and here, by God’s permission, he became dangerously ill with pneumonia. The case was very difficult. I saw that he would soon die and suggested that he withdraw completely from the world and take monastic vows. For a very long time he had no information about his family. L, thought and agreed; A few days later, after cutting his hair, he died and took the schema. Now he is among the faces of angels! A few months later, one very exalted lady appeared at the Skete and began shouting: “Give me my husband!” At first I didn’t understand what she wanted, but then I understood that she was talking about L. I told her that her husband was among the Angels. With irritation, she expressed a desire to look at her husband’s grave. But I said that women are not allowed to enter the Hermitage, and therefore I cannot allow her to enter here. Then she began to talk about herself, to be proud of her knowledge: “I studied twelve foreign languages ​​and gained fame for my work abroad.” She thought that her scientific qualifications would open the doors of the Skeet. I told her that although she knows many languages, she does not know one, the most important language - the language of angels. She asked ironically: “Where is this language?” “To know him,” I said, “you need to read the Holy Scriptures. This is the language of angels." She announced that she had nothing more to do here and that she was immediately going abroad to lecture at a Swiss university. I asked her to write me a letter when her life was hard for her, and said that she would come here again. She laughed and walked away. A few months later she sent me a letter from Switzerland, where she wrote that she was very unhappy. Her common-law husband cheated on her and left her, taking her children with him. On my advice, she began to read the Gospel and found a lot of interesting things. In the letter she asked me several questions. To resolve them, I invited her to come to us. She came and lived with us for quite a long time, and then began to come several times a year and became a believer and kind. (Later I saw her. She became very modest, and when Father entered the reception room, she always came up to him and threw herself at his feet.) She was very rich and gave away all her property to the poor. What a change took place in her! The wisdom of the world appeared as foolishness before God. Then the Elder showed another tomb and said: “Here lies schemamonk Nikolai, nicknamed “Turk.” This is the amazing fate of a man... It was a general, a pasha, the commander of the Turkish troops. Did he think that he would rest here in Russia, and even in a monastery, in the rank of angels! This is a modern great martyr. During the war between the Turks and the Russians, he commanded the Turkish army. The Turks were fanatics and tortured Russian prisoners. Pasha looked at this torment and was amazed at the fortitude of the Christians and asked the soldiers why they were dying so joyfully? He wished to become better acquainted with the Christian religion. He secretly called an Orthodox priest and then was baptized, retiring to Persia. But the Turks, having learned about his betrayal of Islam, seized him and carved crosses on his skin on his chest and back and broke his bones. Pasha lost consciousness. Thinking that he was dead, the Turks threw him to the dogs. But God kept him. He came to his senses thanks to God, whom he loved with all his heart. Russian merchants passed by and picked it up. He told them that the robbers attacked him, robbed and beat him. The merchants, out of compassion, took him to Russia, to the Caucasus, and handed him over to a woman to take care of him. He gained weight and became unrecognizable. He was a hunched old man, leaning on a stick, dressed poorly, but having a rich soul, gifted with spiritual abilities. He managed to cross from the Caucasus to Odessa, and from there he went to travel around Russia as a wanderer to holy places. Heading to Moscow, he ended up in Optina. He really liked it here. He stayed here for a while and suddenly fell ill. They put him in a monastery hospital... During his illness, he became a monk and then recovered. He settled here in Skete. One day, while walking with me, he suddenly said: “Do you hear, father, the angelic music?.. It is a great bliss to listen to it.” I heard nothing, and he was simply surprised at my deafness. Indeed, this simple monk was ascended to Heaven even during his earthly life. He saw heavenly abodes and listened to heavenly music. This was his reward for his torment. Three months later he fell ill again and died in the schema. Only after his death did the brethren see how tortured his body was; that there really was a holy martyr, and the secret of his life was revealed. His grave in the Skete was not overgrown with grass. Father crossed himself and said: - Know that you shouldn’t say: if I remain a virgin and go to a monastery, I will be saved. There are a lot of temptations in the monastery and you can easily die. Simply pray: “Save me, O God, in Your own ways!” So tomorrow you want to partake of the Holy Mysteries of Christ: do not say: I will partake tomorrow, but say: if the Lord deigns to partake of me, a sinner. Otherwise, be afraid to speak. This is what happened to you in St. Petersburg. There lived a very rich merchant on Sergievskaya Street. His whole life was a continuous wedding, and for 17 years he did not partake of the Holy Mysteries. Suddenly he felt death approaching and became afraid. He immediately sent his servant to the priest to tell him to come and give communion to the sick man. When the priest came and rang the bell, the owner himself opened the door for him. Father knew about his crazy life, became angry and said why he was mocking the Holy Gifts so much, and wanted to leave. Then the merchant, with tears in his eyes, began to beg the priest to come to him, a sinner, and confess him, since he felt death approaching. Father finally gave in to his request, and with great contrition in his heart he told him his whole life. The priest gave him permission for his sins and wanted to accustom him, but then something extraordinary happened: suddenly the merchant’s mouth tightened, and the merchant could not open it, no matter how hard he tried. Then he grabbed a chisel and a hammer and began to knock out his teeth, but his mouth closed completely. Little by little his strength weakened and he died. “So,” the Elder noted, “the Lord gave him the opportunity to be cleansed of sins, perhaps through his mother’s prayers, but did not unite with him,” and with these words Father returned with me to his cell... Father, Barsanuphius had to leave Skete... I arrived in Optina just at this time. Father met me with joy, told me about his circumstances and told me how the day before the devil had attacked not only his name, but also his life: “One officer came here and began to demand a note from me stating that I agree to his marriage with a girl who is very religious, but unknown to me. He wanted to get married by deception. I categorically refused to give such a note. Even inscribe the Holy Gospel. Then he started shouting at me, finally grabbed the saber from its sheath and began waving it, stepping on me, and I, says [the priest, crossed my arms, standing in front of him. He waved and waved, but could not touch me. With a curse, he sheathed the saber and ran, but in his madness he could not find a way out of the Skete. Having met one monk, he ordered him to be taken out of the Skete and escorted to the hotel; he said that he had no right to go out without the blessing of the elder. Then the officer pulled out a revolver and forced him to go with him. Of course, I could bring a case against him, I know what regiment he is, and I could write to the officer’s court, but this is not our business, this is not a monastic matter, we must say: God’s will be done. - Go to Fr.’s cell. Nektarios 483 and say that I sent you. On the day of departure, Father served the Liturgy at the Skete and then said goodbye to the brethren at home. The farewell was touching, he bowed at the feet of almost everyone, and after bowing to some, he did not even want to get up. There were a lot of tears. At three o'clock he performed a farewell prayer and went to the station: he had things - one small hand bag. The weather was desperate, there was a terrible blizzard with sleet. It was impossible to go directly to the station, since the Zhizdra River overflowed. We crossed the river with great danger. His confessor and Fr. went to accompany Father to the station on a small ferry. Nectary. I was traveling with Father’s confessor, Fr. Theodosius. He was struck by the humility of Fr. Barsanuphius was touched all the way. We drove to the station instead of the usual hour - three and a half hours. On the way, Father became completely numb. Thank God that the train was late, and Father could warm up with tea. Tickets, by order of Father, were taken third class. But during the transfer, I agreed with the chief conductor and did not allow Father to enter the third class, and together with two cell attendants we were placed in a second-class compartment. Dear Father hardly slept, but at the same time he said almost nothing. Upon arrival in Moscow, Father went to the courtyard in which the bishop [Trifon (Turkestanov)] lived. When meeting the bishop, Father bowed at his feet. Father lived in this courtyard for six or seven days until the bishop elevated him to the rank of archimandrite. I lived in Moscow with my relatives and came to Father every day. Together with him and his cell attendants, we walked around and venerated all the shrines of the city of Moscow. One day, returning from the chapel of St. Panteleimon, Father walked in front, and I walked behind. Suddenly an unfamiliar young lady, very well dressed, stops me and asks if this is Father Barsanuphius. I said yes; she was surprised how Father could end up in Moscow. I briefly told her how it happened. She ran ahead and accepted his blessing and then escorted him to the apartment. Here, near the gate, Father told her to wait, he himself entered the dining room, chose the best orange and told me to take it to the young lady, but first asked me: “Who is this young lady?” I replied that I didn’t know, but Father said: “You should know this, take the orange and take her home.” I walked out of the gate, handed over the orange and Father’s wish. She asked me where I live. “Well,” she said, “it’s on my way too.” We got on the same tram, he took me to my place, and she drove on. When we said goodbye, she gave me her phone number and asked me to tell her when Father would be elevated to the rank of archimandrite. I promised her to do all this and fulfilled it exactly. She was in church and asked me to give Father some fruit. The next day, Father went to a new place of service in the city of Kolomna, to the Golutvin Monastery. When we approached Kolomna, the monastery was visible from the windows of the carriage. And Father, looking at the monastery, crossed himself, and said: “Here is my resting place; I don’t have long to live, as I have to endure my final trials.” The last commandment of beatitude is fulfilled: Blessed are you, when they revile you and destroy you and say all sorts of evil things against you, who lie, for my sake 484. At these words, something sharp pierced my heart and it became heavy; but Father looked cheerfully. At the station there were already monastery horses. We were met by the steward of the monastery with a golden pectoral cross. He sat down with Father, and I got into the next carriage with Father’s cell attendant. We were still far from the monastery when all the bells there began to ring back. Father immediately went to church. All the brethren gathered here. After the prayer service, Father greeted everyone and went to inspect the premises. Upon inspection, he found omissions and even ruin everywhere. The hotel was in disarray. “What should I do,” says Father, “where will I place the visiting pilgrims?” And so he ordered me and the cell attendants to go to the city and buy beds, material for mattresses and pillows and sew them. “I don’t have money,” says Father, “but there will be good people, go.” And here is a wonderful thing. To me, a man in a student uniform, they give me beds and material without any conversation, with complete readiness and without a penny of money. True, Father’s cell attendant was with me, but no one knew him or me. Upon arrival at the monastery, I began to sew mattresses and stuff them with hair and worked all day. Since the hotel was not equipped, I stayed in Father’s apartment. Father himself acted as an alarm clock: at half past midnight he came, woke me up and forced me, together with the cell attendant, to read the midnight office and the monastic rules. This lasted for two hours. Then I went to bed again. But at five and a half o’clock Father woke me up again so that I could get together with him for early mass. This went on for about a week. At first there was a lot of work, and I played the role of cell attendant, cleaned the rooms, ventilated them. Father made great reforms in the internal structure of the monastery. He established compulsory attendance at church services, and he himself was an example. Previously, not everyone went to the refectory, and the hieromonks did not even look in; they had their own kitchens in their cells. The housekeeper even had a cook. Father forbade cooking anything at home, and everyone had to eat common food at a certain time. When Father came to the refectory at the bell, all the ordinary monks were surprised that he was so close to them. The food was impossible: the cabbage soup was rotten cabbage and fish with a smell. The housekeeper did not come to the refectory, but Father sent a novice for him and forced him to eat lunch from the products that he bought. The housekeeper turned away, and Father caught him. No wonder the housekeeper wore silk robes, and goldfish could be seen in his room. “How is it possible,” said Father, “to give such food, such an infection... Immediately the whole spirit of the monastery changed. The priest took care of the clothes and food of the monks, and the monks, seeing such a fatherly attitude of the abbot, did not shun him, but came [and] with love and trust opened their souls to him, and he began to heal them. There was one alcoholic there, a hierodeacon; Thanks to the love and efforts of Father, he died like a great Christian. Father revived him with his humility. And in general, after two months the monastery became unrecognizable. Many workers from the Kolomna plant began to come to Father to seek consolation. Father told me: “If only you should open a school here at the monastery and teach the children of workers the Christian life...” But this was not destined to come true. I was overcome by all kinds of illnesses. At the beginning of 1913, I arrived in Golutvin with a sore throat. Father looked at me and said: “You need to get married, and all your illnesses will go away.” I looked at him in surprise. I didn't think about marriage at all. - Do you have a fiancee? – he asked. - Well, so I’ll marry you one girl, a wonderful one. She's going to a monastery. You must have seen her. She walks so humbly in a dark headscarf. She needs to live in the world and raise pious and honest people... Do you like her? After all, you saw her in Moscow. - Yes, Father, I liked her in Moscow, but here I didn’t recognize her! “She exhausted herself with the fasting feat. And so I decided this: tomorrow morning, at early mass, I will pray for you in front of the altar, and - what the Lord will reveal to me. If He pleases my desire, then I will call her to the choir and talk to her about you and herself, but for now I will not say anything... This decision of Father stunned me and I, excited, went to my hotel, intending to go to early mass the next day. I told the hotel attendant to wake me up on time. When they began to preach the gospel, he knocked on me. I jumped up and quickly started getting dressed... So what? It seemed to me that I got dressed immediately and went to church. I approach the church doors, and they are locked. I ask the first monk why the church is locked. Because, he says, the service has departed. What time is it now? Eleven o'clock! How? I was just getting dressed for early mass! I almost went crazy, lost my sense of time and immediately ran to Father. I could go to him at any time. The cell attendant let me in and said that Father was resting now, but would come out soon. I sat in the waiting room and I’m worried, I don’t know how. About twenty minutes later Father came out. He prayed, blessed me and sat me down next to him. I tell Father with fear that I have lost my sense of time—whether I fell asleep or lost consciousness, I just can’t figure out. And Father says: “That’s how it should be, you can’t be curious about such things,” and he began to tell me about Seraphim of Sarov. I’m worried, I want to know the result, whether he talked with this girl, but he looks at me searchingly and continues to talk about Seraphim of Sarov. “One young man came to St. Seraphim and asked the reverend for his blessing to marry a girl who remained in the village... And St. Seraphim said: “Your bride is here in the monastery, you will meet her at the entrance to the hotel.” He was surprised and said that she was not here. “Your bride has become the bride of Christ, and you are marrying someone else. Arriving at the hotel, he actually met one girl who looked at him intently. Entering the room, he found a letter on the table informing him that his bride had become nervously ill and died. He ran to the Monk Seraphim and with tears told his grief. And Father arranged a new marriage. This is how God's will is done. Now I will tell you about you: as I said, I prayed in front of the altar and after mass I called A.S. to the choir. I described you to her, said that I vouch for you and want to introduce you both closer. She doesn’t even want to hear about marriage, I convinced her for a long time and warned her that she would die in the monastery. Then she resigned herself and said: “Your will, Father, you know better.” I appointed an hour for her to meet at the reception hour, at three o’clock, and I also command you to come at three o’clock. I went to my hotel and at the entrance I ran into A.S. She immediately blushed all over, bowed her head and walked past me; and immediately I remembered the words of Father, as if from the reverend. Seraphima: “And at the entrance to the hotel you will meet your bride.” And so, it came true. “And why,” I think, “went to the hotel?” (For she lived in a village near the monastery.) It turned out that it was her brother and his bride who came to ask Father for blessings. At three o'clock I went to my father's reception room. Quite a lot of people gathered there. I sat further away, in a corner. My future bride and brother also came and sat far from me. In the middle stood a woman with a young man of about seventeen. With great sadness on her face she was waiting for Father. Finally Father appeared at the door. First of all, as he used to do, he went up to the image, prayed, and then began to go around and bless everyone. He blessed me, one by one, and moved on. Then a woman, standing in the middle of the room, rushed to him with the words: - Father, pray! I suffered with my son, cured his entire condition, but he still remains deaf and dumb, and this has happened to him since he was twelve. Father blessed him, looked at him and said: - He sinned one great sin, he needs to repent and fast, and again he will hear and speak. The mother was even upset for her son: how, after all, he is an exemplary boy, could he sin at the age of twelve! The priest turned to the young man and asked: - Do you remember what you did? He shook his head in bewilderment. “But, father, he doesn’t hear,” says the mother. - Yes, he doesn’t hear you, but he hears me. Then Father leaned over and whispered something in his ear, and his eyes opened wide - he remembered. A week later the young man was healthy. After talking with the woman, Father came up to me, took me by the hand and led me; walked up to my bride, took her with his other hand and led them both into the confessional. She was very shy, and he encouraged her. Her brother did not believe his eyes (he knew that she was irrevocably going to the monastery). Father placed us in front of the lectern, joined our hands, covered us with his stole and began to pray silently. Then he turned to us and said: “Here’s my wish: get to know each other better, and if you suit each other, then God bless your marriage.” Then, turning to my bride, he said: “And I command you to come to V.V. every day at five o’clock and treat him to tea.” And you open your souls to each other. Then he let us go and called her brother, who was leaving back for Moscow that same day. The day on which this conspiracy took place was remarkable for me. It was the day of my birth mother's death, February 1st. Exactly a year before, I was in Optina and told Father that today was the day of my mother’s death. He then stood in front of the image and began to pray. Then, turning to me, he says: - Look how she nods her head and how she thanks that her son did not forget her, but remembered and prayed. Do you see her joy? - Father, I don’t see anything. And Father looks at the image and seems to be talking. So, a year has passed since this incident, and again I have an event. Of course, there was also the blessing of the mother. For several days, Anna Sergeevna came to me at five o’clock. Talking to each other, we grew closer in soul. The conversation continued until 10 pm, and I accompanied her home. Every day we informed Father about our conversation, and he said to me: – How my soul rejoices that this happened. But you still need to meet her parents. There will be a wedding there soon for Anna Sergeevna’s brother, let them send you an invitation. Then Father ordered her to be taken to Moscow and after her brother’s wedding to go with her to St. Sergius at the Trinity-Sergius Lavra. Father greatly revered St. Sergius. I fulfilled my father’s wish, took my bride to Moscow and, upon receiving the invitation, came to the wedding... After that, I began to travel from St. Petersburg to Moscow every week. Our engagement was announced. My bride and I visited the Trinity-Sergius Lavra. And then, during the prayer service, I felt the presence of the living St. Sergius so close that I was overcome with horror. My fiancée felt the same way. There was a feeling of special unity: it was not for nothing that Father sent us here. My mood was joyful. Suddenly I receive a telegram to St. Petersburg that Father has become very seriously ill. I immediately quit my business and went to Golutvin. Father, life is bad. He was lying on the bed; When I arrived, he sat down and made me sit next to him, hugging me with his arm. With great interest, he began asking me about preparations for the wedding. – Did St. Sergius have any? – Yes, father, they were, and I felt awe. - Well, now everything is blessed; in three days, on Annunciation, let you have an engagement, and on “Red Hill” - a wedding in St. Petersburg. And after the wedding, the first visit is to me. Then he began to think, apparently feeling the imminent approach of death... And he began to talk about the grace of old age. – The elders are called seers, indicating that they can see the future: yes, great grace is given to the elders - this is the gift of reasoning. This is the greatest gift God gives to man. In addition to physical eyes, they also have spiritual eyes, before which the human soul opens. Before a person thinks, before a thought arises in him, they see it with spiritual eyes, they even see the reason for the emergence of such a thought. And nothing is hidden from them. You live in St. Petersburg and think that I don’t see you. When I want, I will see everything you do and think... When you have children, teach them music. But, of course, real music, angelic, and not dances and songs. Music contributes to the development of perception of spiritual life. The soul becomes refined, it begins to understand spiritual music. Here in our church they read the Six Psalms, and people often leave the church for this time. But they do not understand and do not feel that the Six Psalms is a spiritual symphony, the life of the soul, which captures the entire soul and gives it the highest pleasure. People don’t understand this; their hearts are made of stone. But music helps to feel all the beauty of the Six Psalms. - Here Father thought again. “And that’s how glad I am that I found a place for you.” May the Lord help you and strengthen you. My illness bothers me a lot... I saw that Father was very tired, I wished him health and asked for his blessing to leave. I didn’t know that he was so close to death, and I thought that he would still recover, but six days later he was gone. As soon as I managed to return to St. Petersburg after the engagement, I went back to Father’s funeral. Our entire wedding joyful mood was upset. Father stood in the church for eight days. He commanded not to bury him until the smell of decay appeared. His funeral service was conducted by Bishop Anastasius 485, who bowed to the ground before the coffin and cried that the earth had lost a wise mentor. The whole church cried along with the bishop. After the funeral service, Father was taken to the funeral in Optina Pustyn. Father's wish came true. His ashes rested in Optina Pustyn. I accompanied Father only to Moscow; I had to take an exam, and I went to St. Petersburg. According to Father’s will, our wedding took place on the “red hill”. On the occasion of mourning for Father, there were no dances, and that same day in the evening my wife and I went to Optina to visit Father’s grave for his first wedding visit. Arriving in Optina, we served a memorial service, cried, grieved, and asked the hieromonk who served: -Who is aging now? “Father Nectarius,” he answered. It was then that I understood why Fr. Barsanuphius, leaving Skete, sent me to Fr. Nectarius: so that I can get to know him better; he had already indicated to me in advance who should lead me after his death. Father Iliodor died on Christmas Day, which fell on Thursday last year. On Sunday, four days before his death, Fr. After the meal, Iliodor lay down to rest on the sofa in his cell... It was around noon... Before he had time to fall asleep properly, he saw in a subtle dream that the door of his cell opened, and the skete monk Patrick and with him Hierodeacon George 486 entered it. Monk Patricius had a long knife in his hands. - Give us money! – Patriky shouted. -What are you kidding? - Fr. asked him in fear. Iliodor. - What money do I have? “And, when that’s the case,” Patriky shouted at him, “so here’s to you!” - And he plunged a knife into his very heart up to the hilt. This vision was so vivid that Fr. Iliodor jumped up from his bed and, dodging the knife, hit the back of his head hard on the back of the sofa. He immediately woke up from the pain and rushed to see who was entering his cell. But there was no one in the cell or outside the cell doors. The day before his death, in the same half-asleep, Fr. Iliodor saw Hieromonk Savva, who was one of the three confessors of Optina Pustyn, who died in the summer of 1908. Father Savva appeared to him complacent and joyful. “What, brother,” Fr. asked him. Iliodor, you must have been scared when your soul was separated from your body? “Yes,” answered Fr. Savva, - it was scary; Well, now, thank God, it’s completely good! Following Fr. Savva, in the same vision, first appeared to the deceased Optina Archimandrite Isaac, and for Fr. Isaac - his successor, also deceased, Archimandrite Dosifei. Father, Isaac approached Fr. Iliodor and gave him a silver ruble in his hand, and Fr. Dositheus – two. “It wasn’t for nothing that I did this,” Fr. said on the eve of his death. Iliodor, telling his dreams to one monk. - I, brother, must be dying soon. On the day of death Fr. Iliodor was sent for obedience to serve the Liturgy in one village; the day before, he confessed to his confessor as a servant, and during the Liturgy he performed the Sacrament and received communion. Returning home that same day, Fr. On the occasion of the great holiday, Iliodor was at the so-called “general tea” with the abbot, he was extremely friendly with everyone, even more, as noted, than usual, and from there, with all the hieromonks, he went to the Skete to the elders to glorify Christ. At this time, my wife and I were leaving the elders and at the monastery’s Holy Gate we met him and the entire Optina hieromonastic army. Father Iliodor walked a little behind, and his face seemed too red to me. - Look, it’s hot! - he told me when we met and laughed. There were Christmas frosts outside. This was my last meeting with him in this world. Elder Fr. spoke to me afterwards. Barsanuphius: – I have with Fr. Iliodor never had a close relationship, and all our communication with him was usually limited to dry formality, and then only on business. On the day of his death, after the glorification, I, I don’t know why, suddenly turned to him with the following question: - Well, brother, have you prepared anything for yourself on the way? “The question was so unexpected both for me and for him that Fr. Iliodor was even embarrassed and did not know what to answer. I grabbed some candy from the tray - a festive monastic consolation - and thrust it into his hand with the words: “And think about what a path he has taken!” The elder told me this, as if surprised that his word came true. But I was not surprised: living so close to the Optina shrine, I stopped marveling at many things... Yesterday my wife and I went to the Skete, to see our confessor and elder, the monastery leader, abbot Fr. Barsanuphius 487. Before going to the Skete, I read Kireev’s article in Moskovskie Vedomosti, in which the author comes to the conclusion that, in view of the increasingly frequent cases of falling away from Orthodoxy into other faiths and even paganism, the community of the faithful will have to draw a sharp line between themselves and the apostates and withdraw from all communication with them. At the end of this article, Kireev reports a rumor that one of our most prominent apostates has the intention of turning again to the Church. I reported this to Fr. Barsanuphius. – Do you think of Tolstoy? - asked Father. - Doubtful! Very proud. But if this conversion takes place, then I will tell you something that only the sinful Barsanuphius knows. After all, at one time I happened to be the confessor of his sister, Maria Nikolaevna, who lives as a nun in Shamordina. Father sat, lost in thought, and did not answer me... Suddenly he raised his head and said: - Tolstoy - Tolstoy! What will happen to him, only the Lord knows. The late great elder Ambrose said to the same Maria Nikolaevna in response to her grief about her brother: “God has a lot of mercy: He may forgive your brother too. But for this he needs to repent, and bring his repentance before the whole world. Just as he sinned for the whole world, so he must repent before him. But when people talk about God’s mercy, they forget about His justice, and yet God is not only merciful, but also just. Just think: He gave His Only Begotten Son, His beloved Son, to die on the cross at the hand of the creature, in fulfillment of justice! After all, not only the earth-born are amazed at the mystery of this glorious and wondrous one, but also the entire heavenly army cannot comprehend the depths of this justice and the love and mercy associated with it. But it’s scary to fall into the hands of the Zhivago God! Just now, in front of you, I had a priest from the Zhizdrinsky district and he told me what happened in his parish these days. A village meeting was held at his place; On it, the priest, together with his parishioners, discussed the issue of building a church-school. This issue was discussed peacefully, and it was already agreed how much the parishioners would spend on this matter. Suddenly one of the members of the gathering, infected with revolutionary ideas, began to blasphemously and impudently vilify the Church, the clergy, and even blasphemed God Himself. One of the old men who was at the gathering stopped the blasphemer with the words: - What did you say! Go quickly to your father, repent, so that the Lord does not punish you for your wicked tongue: God cannot be scolded. “Your God will do a lot for me,” answered the madman. “If He existed, He would have torn out my tongue for such words.” And look, I’m intact, and my tongue is intact. Oh, you fool, you fool! Because you are stupid, that is why priests and everyone who is not too lazy rides on your neck. “I’m telling you,” the old man objected to him, “go to the priest to repent before it’s too late, otherwise it will be bad for you!” The blasphemer spat on these speeches, swore a nasty word and left the meeting home. His path lay across the railroad bed. He was lost in thought, or his attention was distracted by something, but before he had time to step over the first rail, a train ran into him and passed through all the cars. The corpse of the blasphemer was found with a cut off head, and from this disfigured head a huge, prohibitively long tongue stuck out, hanging to the side. “This is how God punished the blasphemer... And how many such cases,” Father added to his story, “pass as if unnoticed by the so-called large public, the one that only reads newspapers; but they are heard and heeded by the simple heart of the people and the heart of those - alas, the few! - who is born of the same spirit. These are the true signs and wonders of the living Orthodox faith; the people know them, and they have at all times supported and strengthened the people's faith. What apostates call Christian legends are actually facts of daily life. Be able, soul, to notice only these facts and use them as beacons of the stormy sea of ​​life, on the way to the Kingdom of Heaven. Take note of them too, S.A.,” our Elder told me, escorting me out of my cell and offering me his blessing. Once upon a time, Fr. Barsanuphius asked me: – Do you know what Kaluga means? I thought about the city of Kaluga and, not understanding the question well, answered with ignorance. “Kaluga,” said Father, “means a fenced place.” This is our city Kaluga. What do you think is protecting him? – The shrines of our region are the monasteries where the holy relics of the Kaluga wonderworkers rest: St. Tikhon of Kaluga: Righteous Lawrence and St. Paphnutius, Abbot of Borovsk, our holy monastery with its deceased great elders Leo, Macarius, Ambrose, Archimandrite Moses, Abbot Anthony and other hidden Optina saints of God. All this is Kaluga, and you are happy that the Lord brought you to live in such a fenced place. And know that very often the name of the area in which you live, the surname of the person you meet - in a word, the name or name in itself has a certain mysterious meaning, the understanding of which is often useful. Look, in the Old Testament almost every name means something: Eve is life, for she became the mother of all living: God Himself commands Abram to be called Abraham, “for,” he says, “I will make you the father of many nations, and Sarah - Sarah,” not “my mistress,” but “the mistress of many”... And so, throughout the Bible, the title and name always have a hidden and important meaning. The Lord Himself foretold for Himself a human name - Immanuel, which means “God with us”: and Jesus, “for He will save His people from their sins.” You see how significant and important this is. - But, besides this, so to speak, language of names and titles, there is also a language of numbers, also secret, significant and important, but not everyone is given the ability to decipher its secret. How great was the mystery of the incarnation of God the Word, and it was also contained in the mysterious reckoning of the generations of Abraham’s descendants: “from Abraham to David,” says St. Evangelist Matthew, - “fourteen generations; and from David to the deportation to Babylon, fourteen generations; and from the migration to Babylon to Christ there are fourteen generations.” Notice the number 14? It is repeated three times. – It is made up of doubling the number 7, and 7 is a sacred number in the Bible, and means the present century, and the future century has been assigned the number 8, by which this century is designated. Do you see that numbers also have their own language? - Well, you do well what you see: perhaps it will be useful to you someday. Today I read in Kolokol that an elderly archbishop of one of the oldest Russian dioceses, his feet entangled in the carpet of his office, fell and so smashed his head and face that he could not serve during all holidays, and even now he still lies with a bandage on his face and does not receive anyone 488 . At the end of October or beginning of November last year, one officer from the diocese of this archbishop was on pilgrimage in Optina; He came to see me and told me the following: - Shortly before my departure to Optina, I was at a festival of one monastery, closest to the provincial city where my regiment is stationed, and was invited to a meal by its abbot. This monastery is rich; there were many invited to the meal, and it was headed by our local suffragan bishop; he also performed the Liturgy that day. Among the honored visitors was a certain civilian “general” from the Synod office. Between him and our vicar there was a conversation about the fact that a blessing had been received from where, according to the archbishop’s proposal, for the restoration of the face of one miraculous icon of the Mother of God, located in the monastery of our diocese. All Orthodox Russia believes and worships this icon, and, according to legend, it was painted during the life on earth of the Queen of Heaven herself, St. the apostle and evangelist Luke. You see, the monastery authorities found that the face of the icon had become so dark that it was impossible to make out anything on it. Then restorers appeared from somewhere with their services, with some new method of restoration, and our old diocesan Bishop was persuaded to give his blessing for the renewal of the apostolic letter with new chapters 489. - How is this possible? – I interrupted. – Is it really open, in front of the believers? “No,” the officer answered me, “the restoration was supposed to be done at night, in parts: digging out old paints in small sections and in their place, like a mosaic, inserting new ones to match the color of the old ones, but in such a way that the ancient design was gradually restored.” “But this is blasphemy,” I exclaimed, “blasphemy no less than what was committed by the warrior of the iconoclast Tsar, who struck the most pure face of the Iveron Mother of God with a spear!” – So, as it turned out, the vicar bishop also looked at this matter, but his interlocutor, the “general” from the synodal clerks, did not have the same opinion about him. Meanwhile, rumors about this blasphemous restoration are already spreading among the people in some places, disturbing the conscience of the last remnant of the faithful... Won't you, S.A., stand up for the shrine doomed to desecration? I smiled bitterly: who will listen to me?! Nevertheless, after the departure of this officer, I gathered my courage and wrote a letter to one of the synod “generals”, Skvortsov, whom I once had to meet in Orel, in the days of Stakhovich’s proclamation of the notorious “freedom of conscience” at the missionary congress. Following this letter, composed in rather energetic terms, I wrote a long letter to the suffragan bishop of that diocese, Andronik (later the martyred Bishop of Perm), where the “restoration” of St. icons. I knew this bishop when he was still an archimandrite, I saw signs of favor from him and thought that my letter would be taken into account and, in any case, favorably. The tone of the letter was respectful, and the content was filled with warmth from the heart, since it is accessible to my insensitive heart. I wrote to the bishop and suddenly remembered that, starting a matter of such importance and living in Optina, I did not think to consult with the Elders. I exposed myself for this thoughtlessness, regretted that the letter had already been sent to the “general”, and with a letter to the bishop I went to my confessor and elder Fr. Barsanuphius in Skete. I went to him with my wife in full confidence that I would touch the heart of my Elder with my jealousy and, of course, I would receive the blessing to come to the defense of the miraculous icon. The elder father did not delay me in receiving me. “Peace be with you, S.A.! What do you say? – Father asked me. I briefly explained why I had come and asked permission to read aloud my letter to the bishop. Father listened attentively and suddenly asked me the following question: – Have you received the blessing of the Queen of Heaven for this letter? “Sorry,” I say, “Father, I don’t understand you.” “Well, yes,” he repeated, “did the Mother of God authorize you to come to the defense of Her holy icon?” “Of course not,” I answered, “I don’t have Her direct blessing for this matter, but it seems to me that the duty of every zealous Christian is to be ready at every hour to defend the desecrated shrine of his faith.” “That’s true,” said Fr. Barsanuphius, - but not in relation to the bearer of the supreme apostolic authority in the Church of God. Who are you to rebel against a bishop and tell him the course of action in the local Church entrusted to his governance by God Himself? Don’t you know the fullness of the bishop’s power?.. No, S., give up your idea and leave the entire judgment to God and the Queen of Heaven Herself - They will dispose of it as They themselves please. Do this for holy obedience, and the Lord, who kisses even human intentions, if they are aimed at good, will give you a special reward for both obedience and intention; but just don’t go to war against the episcopal rank, otherwise the Queen of Heaven Herself will punish you. What was left to do? I had to submit. “But what, father,” I asked, “what should I do with that letter that I sent to the synodal “general”? - Well, this is a private matter between you and him: a “general”, and even a synodal one, is not a divinely established authority in the Church of God, this is your equal, with whom you can treat as you wish, within the limits, of course, of Christian peacefulness and goodwill. “Leave judgment to God!” - this was the advice of the Elder. And this judgment was completed: not even two full months had passed since the day of this council, and the archbishop had already received admonition and responded for the face of the Most Pure One with his own face, deprived of the happiness of celebrating the Divine Liturgy on the great days of Christmas. “Sow the wheat, Father Timone!” Annual holiday of Optina Pustyn. We went to congratulate the elders on the holiday. Father Barsanuphius told [my] wife the following: “A young nun comes to me today and says: “Where,” I say, “mother, can I remember everyone?” No, I don't know. “You saw me,” he says, “in 1905 490, in Moscow, on a tram.” I was still a frivolous girl then, and you turned to me with a question: what am I reading? And at that time I was holding a book in my hands and reading. I answered: Gorky. You then grabbed your head, as if I had done God knows what. Your gesture made a strong impression on me, and I asked: what should I read? And then you advised me to read the priest Khitrov, and I knew both him and his mother, but I did not suspect that he wrote anything. When you gave me this advice, I objected to you with these words: what’s more, you’ll tell me that I should go to a monastery. Yes, you answered me, go to the monastery! I just smiled at these words - they seemed so incongruous to me. I asked: who are you and what is your name? You answered: my name remained in the monastery fence. Do you remember this meeting now? “Now,” I say, “I remember.” How, I ask, did you end up in the monastery? - Very simple. When we said goodbye, I felt that this meeting was not without reason, I thought deeply about its meaning. Then I bought all the books of priest Khitrov, began to read other books, and then gave a large contribution to the X ... in 491 monastery, and now I am a novice there as a ryassophore. “How,” I ask, “did you find me?” - And it was simple. I told my monastery priest everything about my meeting with you, described your appearance, and he told me: “This must be Father Barsanuphius of Optina.” So I came here to find out whether it was you or someone else? It turns out you are. What a joy! And I remembered the words of St. Seraphim, spoken by him to the hieromonk of the Nadeevsk hermitage, Timon: - Sow, Father Timon, the wheat of the word of God, sow it on stones, and on the fox, and in the bud, sow it on the rich earth: all somewhere and the seed will germinate for the glory of God. It was, I remember, in October or November 1909, when, after a late mass in the Kazan Church of Optina Pustyn, I first heard the gentle sound of her [Elena Andreevna Voronova] voice calling me by name... Whoever knew Princess Maria Mikhailovna Dondukova-Korsakova in St. Petersburg, knew this servant of God, and everyone who had any connection with the affairs knew both charity in the northern capital, especially in the matter of showing love and mercy to those whom the former Russian people called “unfortunate” - to prisoners in prisons, prisoners: into their embittered and sorrowful soul these two lights of true Christianity brought both the light of repentance and the joy of forgiveness - reconciliation with God, with their now enlightened conscience and with the people they hated and rejected them. Princess Maria Mikhailovna stood at the head of St. Petersburg prison charity; Elena Andreevna was her assistant until her death. Elena Andreevna, as mentioned above, was the assistant of Princess Maria Mikhailovna Dondukova-Korsakova, also a servant of God, which is not often found in this world. The sister of the former governor of the Caucasus, she, both by origin and connections, belonged to high society and, despite this, left “all the red of the world” in the name of love for God and neighbor. She did not marry and devoted all of herself to serving her suffering younger brother... Unfortunately, moving from a young age in a society where her own and foreign teachers, like Redstock, Pashkov and others, preached, she became infected with Irvinism, a sect of extreme reformist persuasion, denying faith in the saints of God and even in the Most Holy Theotokos. This greatly upset the Orthodox-believing soul of Elena Andreevna, but no matter what she did to convert the princess to Orthodoxy, nothing was successful, mainly because the princess, despite her purely sectarian judgments about the faith, considered herself completely Orthodox, went to church, fasted and received Communion... One person close to her, having learned that she was approaching the Holy Mysteries, and knowing her delusions, asked her: – Have you, Marya Mikhailovna, confessed your error? - Why are you an Irvinist? “Yes, I don’t consider this a sin,” answered the princess. Of course, with such a way of thinking, it was difficult for Elena Andreevna to act on the princess with a word of persuasion, and her love had to turn to a different method of influence - to help from above. She once came to Optina to visit her elder, Fr. Barsanuphius and tells us that when leaving St. Petersburg, she left the princess dangerously ill, with severe pneumonia - and the princess was already in her eighties. “I said goodbye to her,” he says, “and thought that I would never find her alive again!” Elena Andreevna had previously spoken to Father Barsanuphius about her grief, that she could not breathe into the holy soul of the princess the understanding of her delusions and therefore feared for her fate in the afterlife. Father Barsanuphius promised to pray for her. On this visit, Elena Andreevna, talking about the current state in which she left the princess in St. Petersburg, strenuously asked the Elder to intensify his prayers for her. Before leaving Optina, Elena Andreevna comes back to St. Petersburg to say goodbye to Fr. Barsanuphius and accept his blessing on the way, and Father brings her out of his cell into the reception room and gives her the icon of the Mother of God and says: “Take this icon from me as a blessing to Princess Maria Mikhailovna and tell her that today, just before your arrival, I prayed in front of this icon for the granting of mental and physical health to her.” It was about ten o'clock in the morning. - Will I find her still alive? – Elena Andreevna objected. “God willing,” answered Fr. Barsanuphius, - for the prayers of the Queen of Heaven you will find yourself not only alive, but also healthy. Elena Andreevna returned to St. Petersburg and her first duty was to the princess. Calling. The door opens, and the princess is in it: she opened the door herself, cheerful, cheerful and as if she had not been ill. - Is that you? – Elena Andreevna exclaimed, not believing her eyes. - Who resurrected you? “You,” he says, “left, I was very bad, and there everything got worse, and suddenly on the third day at about ten o’clock in the morning, for no reason at all, I immediately felt better, and today, as you can see, I’m completely healthy.” - At what time, you say, did this miracle happen? - At ten o'clock on the third day. This was the day and hour when Fr. Barsanuphius prayed before the icon of the Mother of God, sent to the princess as a blessing. With tears of ecstatic emotion, Elena Andreevna told the princess what had happened and gave her the icon of the Queen of Heaven. She silently accepted the icon, crossed herself, venerated it, and immediately hung it next to her bed. From that day on, Elena Andreevna no longer needed to convert the princess to Orthodoxy: with faith in the Most Pure One and the saints of God, the princess lived out her life and soon went to the Lord. She lived and died in the Orthodox way. Elena Andreevna, in a generally poor state of health, had very poor vision: one eye could not see at all, and the best ophthalmologists in the capital told her that not only would vision never be restored to this eye, but that the other eye was in the same danger. And poor Elena Andreevna began to notice with horror that her good eye also began to see worse and worse... It was a bitter February, I remember, 1911. Elena Andreevna arrives in Optina, weak and barely alive. – What is the matter with you, dear friend? “I came to you in Optina to die,” our cheerful friend always and in all cases of life answers, half-seriously, half-jokingly, and then she told us that she had just suffered severe pleurisy (this is due to her diseased lungs!). - But this is all nonsense! There's something wrong with the eyes - it will be worse. I'm afraid of going blind. Well, it’s all God’s will! There are snow storms outside, frosts of fifteen degrees - Sretensky frosts, and she arrived in a light, either fleece or “fish fur” coat, not even a warm scarf; in his hands is an old, once astrakhan muff, on his head the same cap - everything has been knocked down by the wind... My wife and I reprimanded, and she smiled: - What does God care about? No one like God! She lived for three or four days in Optina, said her fast, took communion, and received unction. He leaves, says goodbye to us and says: – And our Father (Fr. Barsanuphius) blessed me on the way to stop at the Tikhon Hermitage and there bathe in the spring of St. Tikhon of Kaluga 492. If we did not know the great boldness of Elena Andreevna’s strong faith, there would be reason to be horrified, and besides, Optina managed to teach us a lot from her spirit, and therefore, without any protest, we crossed each other, said goodbye, asking the reverend to remember us. Tikhon. Soon after Elena Andreevna’s departure, we receive a letter from her from St. Petersburg, writing: “Wonderful is our God and great is our Orthodox faith! For the prayers of our Father, Father Barsanuphius, I bathed in the spring of St. Tikhon at 10 degrees Reaumur in the bathhouse. When I put on my underwear, it stood stiff from the frost, like something tightly starched. I rode twelve miles from the source to the railway station in a cab in the same fur coat in which you saw me. My hair, wet from swimming, turned into icicles. I thawed out forcibly in the warm station and in the carriage, and - not even a runny nose! There was no trace of pleurisy left. But what a truly great miracle is the mercy of God and the saint, St. Tikhon, this is that not only my diseased eye has recovered, but also the other one, which died long ago, and now I see perfectly with both eyes!..” My wife and I went for a blessing to Fr. Barsanuphius. S.A. Voronova heard from him that on the night from Wednesday February 17 to Thursday the 18th he had a dream that left a strong impression on our Father. “I don’t like it,” he said to Elena Andreevna, “when someone starts telling me their dreams, and I don’t trust my own dreams.” But sometimes there are those who cannot but be recognized as blessed. Such dreams cannot be forgotten. This is what I dreamed on the night of February 17-18. See, what a dream - I even remember the dates!.. I dream that I am walking through some beautiful area, and I know that the purpose of my journey is to receive the blessing of Fr. John of Kronstadt. And now a majestic building, like a church, of unimaginable beauty and dazzling whiteness appears to my eyes. And I know that this building belongs to Fr. John. I enter it and see a huge hall made of white marble, in the middle of which rises a marvelously beautiful white marble staircase, wide and majestic, like the entire church of the great Kronstadt shepherd. The staircase begins from the ground with a platform, and its steps, interspersed with similar platforms, rush like a straight arrow into an endless height and go to the very sky. On the lower platform stands Fr. John in snow-white robes shining with bright light. I approach him and accept his blessing. Father John takes me by the hand and says: “You and I need to climb these stairs!” And we began to rise. And suddenly it occurred to me: how can this be, after all, Fr. John died, how can I walk with him as if he were alive? With this thought I tell him: - Father! You're dead, aren't you? -What are you saying? – he exclaimed in response to me. – Father John is alive, Father John is alive! - This is where I woke up... What an amazing dream, isn’t it? – asked Elena Andreevna Fr. Barsanuphius - And what a joy it is to hear from the lips of Fr. John's testimony to the immutable truth of our faith! Gifts of Grace from Elder Barsanuphius Father o. Barsanuphius had the gift of foresight no less than other elders. In him this gift was somehow especially openly expressed. In his entire appearance there is something similar to the great prophets or apostles, who reflected the glory of God on themselves with a bright light. It is difficult to say about the internal appearance in a few words. A true elder, and he was one, is the bearer of the prophetic gift. The Lord directly reveals to him the past, present and future of people. This is insight. This gift - to see the human soul - makes it possible to raise up the fallen, direct them from the wrong path to the true one, heal mental and physical illnesses, and cast out demons. All this was typical of Fr. Barsanuphius. Such a gift requires continuous abiding in God, holiness of life. Many saw the elders illuminated by light during their prayer. Elder Barsanuphius was also seen as if in flames during the Divine Liturgy. This was conveyed to us orally by a living witness... Truly, he became like his great predecessors and “stood in the victorious ranks of the great host of the army of Christ,” as he himself wrote in his “Desire” back in 1903, putting under the title the words from the troparion of the Midsummer: “Let him thirst, let him come to Me, and let him drink”: My desire has long been hidden in my soul: Cut off all ties with the vain world, To begin a different life - a life of heroism - Retire to the monastery of monks forever, Where I could cry and pray! Having escaped the rebellious and harsh environment, To bear sorrows and labors there without complaint And I thirst to quench new spiritual life, Repentance will bear worthy fruits, And courageously stand in the victorious ranks The great host of the army of Christ. Serendipity o. Barsanuphia was exceptional. Many cases are described by Fr. Vasily Shustin in his memoirs. Maria Vasilievna Shustina, the archpriest's sister, sent us the following story concerning their late sister. “To my 9-year-old sister Anna, Father Fr. Barsanuphius recited the poem: Then he continued: “A rich landowner came to Elder Ambrose with her beautiful daughter to ask for his blessing to marry a hussar. Elder Ambrose replied: “She will have a more beautiful, more worthy Groom. You'll see. He Himself will come on Easter night.” Easter has arrived. Everyone was excited, everything was baked and fried. When we returned from church, the tables were laden with food. The girl's mother sat down on the veranda, from which a wonderful view opened up. The sun began to rise. “There’s a troika riding along the road,” she exclaimed, “probably the groom?” But the trio rushed past. A second troika appeared behind her, but they also passed by. The daughter went out onto the veranda and said: “I’m somehow sad!” Bells were heard. The mother rushed to give orders, but immediately, hearing her daughter’s loud exclamation: “Here is my beautiful Groom!”, she ran back, and what appeared to her eyes? “Her daughter raised her hands to the sky and fell dead.” This story, as well as the poems about the bird of God, which “does not make a long-lasting nest,” were prophetic for Anya. When she was 19 years old, she liked one young man, then a second, even better one, but her happiness was not allowed to come true: during the civil war, she and her parents had to leave the farm in the Poltava province and move south. On the way, approaching Crimea, Anya fell ill with typhoid fever and died. Before her death, she managed to partake of the Holy Mysteries. This is how Fr.'s prediction came true. Barsanuphius." “Another time,” writes the same Maria Vasilievna, “the Elder warned one young nun not to be self-confident. But soon she herself volunteered to read the Psalter in church for the deceased and refused the cooperation of other nuns. At midnight she felt afraid, ran away and caught her clothes in the door. In the morning she was found on the floor in a nervous fever. They had to put her in a hospital, where she stayed for a year and returned with a gray head.” We managed to collect four cases of insight from Fr. Barsanuphius, discovered by him during the confession of his spiritual children. Elena Alexandrovna Nilus told us that one time, when she and her husband came to confess to the Elder (and he confessed them at the same time, knowing that they had no secrets from each other), he asked Sergei Alexandrovich if he had committed such and such a sin. “Yes,” he will answer, “but I didn’t consider it a sin.” Here the Elder explained to Nilus the sinfulness of his act or thought and exclaimed: “Well, you tore up the bill, Sergei Alexandrovich!” A young girl, Sofya Konstantinovna, who came to visit the Niluses in Optina Pustyn, complained to the Elder in confession that, living in someone else’s house, she was deprived of the opportunity to observe fasts. - “Well, why are you now tempted by sausage while traveling on a fast day?” – the Elder asked her. S.K. was horrified: “How could the Elder know this?” A similar incident happened with Sofia Mikhailovna Lopukhina, née Osorgina. She says that she came to Optina Pustyn as a 16-year-old girl. She was struck by the crowd of thousands around the old man’s “hut,” as the wooden houses where the elders lived were called 493. She stood on a stump to look at the Elder when he came out. Soon the Elder appeared and immediately beckoned her. He brought her into the cell and told her her whole life year after year, listing all her misdeeds, when and where she committed them, and called the characters by their names. And then he said: “Tomorrow you will come to me and repeat to me everything that I told you. I wanted to teach you how to confess.” Sofya Mikhailovna was no longer in Optina Pustyn. The next time she saw the Elder was when he stopped in Moscow on his way to Golutvin. He had aged a lot, had grown haggard, become bent... He said that it was obvious. God loves him if he sent such a test. A year has passed. She has already married Lopukhin. The elder died. Suddenly, her apartment rang: a very tall monk entered. He gave her two icons from the late Father: by his order, they were placed in his coffin and bequeathed to her and her cousin S. F. Samarina. Lopukhina never parted with her Kazan Icon of the Mother of God. The only exception was when she gave it to her husband, who was in prison. The third case of an equally miraculous confession occurred in Golutvin with Nikolai Arkhipovich Zhukovsky, now of advanced age, but still alive and living in France, just as S.M. is alive. Lopukhina, who gave full permission to publish her communication with the Elder. (Reported by nun Taisia.) 494 Father Abbot Innokenty (Pavlov), who laid the foundation for his monasticism in Optina at the end of 1908, told us about his first confession to the Elder. At that time, the head of the Skete and the elder was Fr. Barsanuphius. From Brazil, o. The abbot (now deceased) wrote: “He was a wonderful elder who had the gift of clairvoyance, which I experienced myself when he accepted me into the monastery and confessed me for the first time. I was speechless with horror, seeing before me not a person, but an angel in the flesh, who reads my innermost thoughts, recalls facts that I had forgotten, faces, and so on. I was possessed by an unearthly fear. He encouraged me and said: “Don’t be afraid, it’s not me, sinful Barsanuphius, but God revealed to me about you. During my life, don’t tell anyone what you are experiencing now, but after my death you can talk about it." About your elder, Fr. Barsanuphius, in a letter dated September 16, 1957 to Fr. Innocent also put it this way: “He was a giant of spirit. Without his advice and blessing, the abbot of the monastery himself, Fr. Xenophon did nothing, but his spiritual qualities and the great charm that he had on all his spiritual children can be judged by a short expression from his funeral tribute: “You cannot replace a giant with small trees.” Continuing his speech, Fr. Innocent said this: “In Optina during all fasts, and on Great Lent - twice, on the first and Holy Week, all the brethren, without exception, had to fast - confess and receive communion, and whoever wished, especially the elderly - more often. His confession had an irresistible, gracious effect on everyone, and also the so-called confession-revelation of thoughts, which was established in Optina on Thursdays. Once a week, on Thursday. The elder did not receive any lay people, and this day was appointed exclusively for the monastic brethren of the monastery and the Skete. The angelic Elder, dressed in a half-robe, stole and vestments, received everyone with great love, slowly asking questions, listening and giving instructions. At the same time, he had exactly the same attitude towards both the elders and the very last. Everyone was devoted to him with selfless love, and he knew to the subtleties the spiritual structure of everyone. It happened that after confession or such a revelation of thoughts, no matter how much grief, sadness and despondency oppressed the soul, everything was replaced by a joyful mood, and it happened that you flew from the Elder, as if on wings, from joy and consolation. And indeed, these were unforgettable moments not only for me personally, but, as you know, all his spiritual children experienced similar things.” We are also indebted to nun Taisia ​​[for] reporting the stories she heard, while she was still in Russia, of the Shamorda nun Alexandra Gurko, also the spiritual daughter of the elder Fr. Barsanuphia. In the world, she was a landowner of the Smolensk province. “I once collected,” said Alexander’s mother, “Father Fr. Barsanuphius spoke with several nuns, his spiritual daughters, about the battle with the spirits in heaven. For some reason, he sat me next to him, even insisted that I sit closer to him. During the conversation, while Father was talking about what kind of insurance monastics are subject to, I suddenly saw a demon actually standing nearby, so terrifying in appearance that I screamed furiously. Father took me by the hand and said: “Well, what do you know now?” The other sisters did not see anything and did not understand what happened.” Another story from Alexandra’s mother was this: “Once I was present at the service of Fr. Barsanuphius Liturgy. This time I had to see and experience something indescribable. Father was enlightened by a bright light. He himself was, as it were, the focus of this fire and emitted rays. The face of the deacon serving with him was illuminated by a ray of light emanating from him. After the service, I was with other nuns at Father’s. He looked very tired. Addressing one of us, he asked her: – Can you say: “Glory to God!” The nun was puzzled by this question and said: - Yes, is that really how they say “Thank God!” - Father exclaimed. Then I went up to Father and said: - And I can tell! God bless!! - God bless! God bless! – Father repeated joyfully.” Delving into all these wondrous testimonies, it bursts from my heart: truly, glory to God! Father John of Kronstadt saw in spirit in the person of Fr. Barsanuphia of the true ascetic. In the memories of Fr. Vasily Shustin was transferred as Fr. John kissed the hand of the young officer, the future elder and schema-monk, in the altar of St. Andrew's Cathedral in Kronstadt. Next we learn from the sermon of Archbishop Theophan of Poltava, delivered by him on August 21, 1929 in Bulgaria, in the city of Varna, about how Fr. John, appearing posthumously to [a certain] Pavel Ilyinov, sends him for complete healing to Elder Barsanuphius in Optina Pustyn and thereby glorifies him, pointing out that God has given him the gift of working miracles. The Elder’s close children have already witnessed this gift more than once. Here's an example. The Nilus couple, having once come to Elder Barsanuphius for a blessing, were present when he cast out a demon from a man brought to him. This time it took a lot of spiritual strength from the Elder. The possessed man was in a frantic rage, spewing at Fr. Barsanuphius cursed him the most viciously, calling him colonel all the time and ready to attack him. The elder then explained to the Nilus that it was a rare and difficult case when they had to deal with the midday demon, which is one of the most fierce and difficult to cast out. This demon is mentioned in the 90th Psalm in the Slavic text: “and the devil and the midday demon.” In the Russian translation, the text is changed, it says: “and the infection that comes at noon.” The story of Pavel Ilyinov is as follows 495. “In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit! Later, from the former, many demons were brought to Him: and he cast out the spirits with a word, and healed all who were sick. 496 Such words are added by the Evangelist Matthew to his narrative in the Gospel now read about the healing of the paralytic servant of the Capernaum centurion. They may ask: do the “possessed” exist at the present time, and if they do, is their healing possible? We will answer this question not with abstract reasoning, but with a statement of what really happened in our not so distant times and of which we ourselves were contemporaries and witnesses. In 1909, a rumor spread throughout St. Petersburg that the 16-year-old young man Pavel Ilyinov, possessed by some illness inexplicable to science, was brought to the Liturgy at the St. John's Petrograd 497 Monastery on Karpovka and here he was miraculously healed at the tomb of Fr. John of Kronstadt. It happened like this. During the Cherubic Song, he broke free from the hands of fifteen strong men who were holding him, and then flew through the air over the people to the western gate of the church and fell unconscious at the entrance to the church. They took him unconscious and brought him to the tomb of Fr. John. Here the patient woke up for a short time and then fell soundly asleep. During his sleep, Fr. appeared to him. John gave instructions, confessed and ordered to go to the Valaam Monastery. What happened in the dream? The patient, upon waking up, did not want to talk about it, and if not for the fragmentary words spoken out loud during sleep: “Father John, forgive, pray, I will do it,” then it is possible that the patient would have hidden everything. But when he heard these words from those around him and realized that they knew about what had happened, he revealed everything. This is what happened to him. He saw Fr. John sitting in a chair at his tomb. Father John told him: “You see me in a form in which no one has seen me. Serve a memorial service for me, as established by the Church. But the Great God wants to glorify me. The time will come, and prayers will be served for me”; then he blew on the patient, blessed him and added: “In due time I will tell you what you will need to do for complete healing.” And after these words he disappeared. Those around saw at this time how the patient was gnawing with his teeth the marble tomb of Fr. John and shouted in a wild voice: “Oh, great saint and prophet John! I’m going out, I’m going out... but not quite”... Of course, it was not the patient who screamed, but the demon that lived inside him. After this, Paul no longer suffered so much from his illness, but he had not yet fully recovered. In the same 1909, he moved to Vyborg, enrolled as a novice at the Valaam Monastery and lived at the bishop’s house in the town of Serdobol (on the Humpel estate). Here he performed obedience in the garden and served as a reader at the church. In 1911, October 19, on the day of remembrance of St. John of Kronstadt and the namesake of Fr. John of Kronstadt, the Lord deigned to show His new mercy to the sick Paul through Fr. John. This time the following happened to him. In the evening of this day, after the all-night vigil, Brother Pavel, while reading an akathist to the Mother of God, came into a state of admiration. A wondrous vision was revealed to his spiritual gaze. Initially, Fr. John of Kronstadt with the Monk John of Rila, then St. Paul of Thebes and St. Athanasius of Athos and many other reverend fathers. They all greeted each other with joyful cries: “Rejoice, John; Rejoice, Paul; Rejoice, Athanasius!..” And finally, the Mother of God Herself appeared behind them in indescribable glory, at whose appearance the choir of reverend fathers solemnly sang the song “To the Chosen Victorious Voivode...” After this, Fr. John of Kronstadt approached Brother Paul and said: “Now get out of your body and follow us with your soul.” It was very difficult for Paul to fulfill this command, but he fulfilled it and followed the Holy Fathers. “They showed me,” said Paul, “first the heavenly abodes and pleasures intended for the virtuous, and then the torment of sinners. Just as the glory and bliss of the righteous, so the torment of sinners defies description. When everything was shown, Fr. John of Kronstadt began to instruct me on how to live, and in order to receive final healing, he ordered me to re-enter my body and go to Optina Pustyn to the elder Fr. Barsanuphius." With these words, Brother Pavel ended his story and what he saw in a state of admiration. In November of the same 1911, he went to Fr. Barsanuphius, accompanied by the Valaam hierodeacon, named Barsanuphius. The elder was warned about the arrival of the sick man, received him, confessed him and gave him communion, and after this the final healing followed. Until 1912, the healed Pavel, already completely healthy, continued to live in Serdobol, and then was called up to serve military service. In 1914 he took part in the great war. Whether he is currently alive or died during this war and the revolution that followed it remains unknown. But he, through the hieromonk of Valaam Barsanuphius, who once accompanied him to Optina Pustyn, sent me his notes for publication ten years after his healing. From these notes written by him in his own hand, it is clear what illness he suffered from and for what reason. During his stay in Moscow, Pavel fell into dire need. He could not find work for himself anywhere, and all his relatives and acquaintances abandoned him. Dire need brought him to despondency and despair; Thoughts about suicide repeatedly came to him. At one of these moments, a mysterious old man suddenly appeared to him and said: “I will help you if you certify in writing with your own blood that you will be faithful to me both here on earth and after your death.” -Who are you that I should believe in you and trust you? – asked Pavel. “I am the same one,” answered the one who appeared, “whom your Church hates!” - “Okay, I will be faithful to you!” - said the young man, blinded by despair, and gave the required subscription. “Well, now you must throw off this extra burden from your neck,” said the mysterious old man, and at the same time pointed to the cross. The young man took off his cross and thus renounced Christ and sold his soul to the devil. For this renunciation of Christ and betrayal to the devil, an evil spirit entered into him, and from then on he became possessed. It was from this spirit of possession that Fr. healed him. John of Kronstadt, partly directly, and partly through the medium of the Optina elder Barsanuphius. From all that has been said, it is clear that those possessed by demons or possessed by unclean spirits still exist today. They are given over to the spirit of demons for their wicked life and especially for the sins of denial of God and blasphemy. But at the present time there are also righteous people who have pleased God, who have the power and authority to cast out evil spirits. The greatest of these miracle workers of recent times is Fr. John of Kronstadt. He pleased the Lord so much with his holy life that he is already listed in the heavenly monasteries as a venerable saint along with St. Anthony the Great, St. Paul of Thebes, St. Athanasius of Athos and St. John of Rylsky. It pleases the Great God, as he himself said, to soon glorify him on earth, as he has already been glorified in Heaven. The deeply instructive story about the youth Paul, in addition to its immediate meaning, also has a deeper symbolic meaning. This demon-possessed youth prefigures our unfortunate and long-suffering Russia. And she, unfortunate, like this youth Paul, was given over to the spirit of demons for her sins and for her wickedness. She was betrayed not because of God’s abandonment of her, but because of His special love for her. For the Lord loves him and punishes him: he beats every son he accepts, so that his spirit may save him 498. We have in Heaven a numerous host of holy miracle workers - both ancient and new, who have power over evil spirits. Let us pray earnestly that our unfortunate country will be freed from demonic violence. The face of the venerable prayer books in Heaven is headed by the Most Pure Mother of God Herself. Let us also pray to Her: Most Pure Virgin, as she has an invincible power, free us from all troubles, and let us call Thee: Rejoice, Unmarried Bride! Amen" 499. First trip to Optina Pustyn In May 1909, one of our friends offered to go to Kyiv, promising to take us for free, since her husband served on the Kiev-Voronezh Railway. My mother and I happily agreed to this proposal. The departure was scheduled for May 21 - the day of the feast of the Vladimir Icon of the Mother of God and Saints Equal to the Apostles Constantine and Helen. Before leaving, I went to see my friends to say goodbye. I came to Elena Sergeevna Petrovskaya, a ryassophore novice of the Seraphim-Diveevsky Monastery. We once studied in the same gymnasium, but she was much older than me, I loved her very much. At the time I am describing, she was passing through Moscow. The doctor, finding her extremely exhausted, sent her to kumiss. “Oh, Marusya,” she said, having learned about my imminent departure, “you come from Kyiv to Optina Pustyn. They say what wonderful elders there are, especially one, his name is Father Barsanuphius. One of our nuns went, and during confession Father revealed her whole life to her from the age of six. After that, she lives in body in Diveyevo, but in spirit constantly remains in Optina. “His face,” she said, “is such that, looking at him, you will cry with emotion.” I, who always loved the elders, the blessed and generally persons experienced in spiritual life, and after Father Barnabas 500 was spiritually orphaned, was inspired by the words of Elena Sergeevna. I began to beg my mother to come from Kyiv to Optina. Mom, who was generally afraid of seers, was sympathetic to my request and agreed to a trip to Pustyn. On May 21, we left in the evening at 9:30 a.m., and on May 23, at 7:00 a.m., we arrived in Kyiv. All the time on the train and upon arrival in Kiev (and I set foot on this land with sacred trepidation), I remembered the words of Elena Sergeevna: “Come to Optina.” We spent three days in Kyiv with the best feelings. I was in the caves three times, reverently prayed to each saint resting there, and begged them to help me with their prayers on my further path in life. Truly the saints of God helped. On May 25, at night, we left Kyiv and, having parted with our fellow travelers in Sukhinichi, we went to buy a ticket to Kozelsk, very worried, since we had very, very little money. But, to our joy, the ticket was inexpensive. In Sukhinichi we had to spend the night at the station. The train going through Kozelsk arrived in the morning, and we arrived in Sukhinichi at about 2 am. Somehow taking a nap on the moved chairs, we survived until the morning. From Sukhinichi to Kozelsk the train takes just over an hour. I was incredibly worried about what I had changed my mind during this time. Most of all I was afraid of confession. I didn’t fast in Kyiv precisely because I wanted to confess in Optina. At about 9 o'clock in the morning we arrived in Kozelsk. After a fair amount of haggling with the local cab drivers, who saw us as newcomers, we finally climbed into some kind of rattling carriage. The road near the station was disgusting due to heavy spring rains. But after half a mile the sandy soil began and the road leveled out. The two miles to the city were fields and meadows. Kozelsk seemed to me more like a small village than a city. I looked at everything with great curiosity. So we drove up a high mountain, and the driver, pointing into the distance with his hand, said: “Here comes Optina! Would you like to see? About two versts away, a high mountain covered with a dense pine forest opened into view, and on its edge a white-white monastery was beautifully located. It took my breath away - so this is where, perhaps, my salvation lies! I experienced a similar feeling when six years ago I approached the Seraphim-Diveevo Monastery, which I was so eager to enter. We arrived at the ferry located on the Zhizdra River near the monastery. The ferry monk told us that due to the heavy flooding of the river, only a small foot ferry operates. Having parted with the cab driver, we boarded the ferry in great excitement. Beyond the river, a small but steep climb up the monastery mountain immediately began. Having seen the hotel at the monastery gates, we headed to it. An old monk, a hotel keeper, Father Gervasiy, came out to meet us, and instead of giving us a number, he began to tell us that he had a coachman visiting and that they were drinking tea. We managed to get into the room by force. The hotel had recently undergone renovations and there was a strong smell of paint. Mom felt sick from this smell, and we asked to be moved downstairs, where it was very dirty, musty and damp, but there was no overpowering smell. Having put down our things, washed up quickly, we went to church. We came to the Gospel at late mass. We read about the Savior taming the storm. The whole atmosphere in which the service was held immediately attracted me. The small church, bearing the loud name Vvedensky Cathedral, wooden floors, a little gold and jewelry, the harmonious, “from the heart” singing of the monks and the earnest, unhurried service captivated me. After mass, I took my mother and my brother Seraphim to the graves of the elders. After praying and immediately falling in love with these graves, I noticed the women walking in the same direction. “Let’s go there, this is probably the cell of Father Anatoly,” 501 I said. We went - and we were not mistaken. There were a lot of people waiting. Immediately Father Anatoly’s cell attendant, Father Vasily, who had good, intelligent, thoughtful eyes, came up to us: “Where are you from, servants of God?” They said. “Father will be out now.” And indeed, almost immediately Father Anatoly himself came out - small, thin, very active, with an unusually kind, gentle face. Having blessed us, he immediately took us into the cell. This is a small rectangular room, in the front corner there is a shrine, along the walls there are icons, among them a very large Kazan Icon of the Mother of God, to the right of the shrine there is a sofa and an armchair, to the left there is a table with a lot of sheets and little books and a cabinet with books and wooden products of the Optina monks. Sitting mom and Seraphim on the sofa, and me in the chair. Father began asking where we were from and what we were doing. Mom began to talk about Seraphim’s desire to be a priest. “But he’s too playful,” she added, “I’m afraid nothing will come of this.” - And Vladyka Tryphon 502 - wasn’t he frisky, but he became a monk. It doesn't mean anything. “But my daughter is still going to the monastery.” - To the monastery? - Father turned to me. - Which one? I answered vaguely. – Just don’t rush and don’t go to Diveevo or Shamordino - they are very crowded. But about a hundred miles from here there is a community called “Consolation and Consolation” 503 or near Moscow - Golovin Monastery 504, Anosina Pustyn 505. Have you ever been there? - Yes, Father, it happened. – Father Alexander Pshenichnikov is founding a community, you can join him. Just don't rush. I left early, and my mother came and took me back. So until the age of 31 I lived in the world. We had our own trade in red goods... Will you stay with us and talk? “Well, come and confess at about two o’clock, and now I’ll give you some leaflets.” And Father began to generously give us leaflets and books. I remember well how Father gave me a little book in a yellow cover, “Being silent and not judging is no work, but a lot of benefit,” with the words: “Haven’t you ever read this book? Well, read it, it’s a good book.” According to my evil tongue, this book hit me not in the eyebrow, but right in the eye. We left Father; I felt very peaceful after the visit. We went straight to the Skete, it stands 120 fathoms from the monastery. Located in a wonderful forest with tall straight pine trees. A path leads to it, lined with crushed stone and strewn with yellow sand. The path made three bends, and Skeet appeared in front of us. I can't tell you how happy I was to see him. Something close and dear smelled from him. There is a small bell tower above the Holy Gate, the entrance to the Skete is all painted with images of holy saints, and on both sides of the bell tower there are poor huts, exactly the same. All this captivated me. We learned that to the right stands the former hut of Father Ambrose, and now the elder schemamonk [hieroschemamonk] Father Joseph, a former cell attendant of Father Ambrose, lives in it, as does Father Anatoly. At these hours the Elder received, and we entered the hut. It turned out to be very roomy and consisted of several rooms and corridors. Soon the cell attendant, Father Zosima, came up to us and asked where we were from, and about five minutes later he called us to Father. With trepidation we entered the former reception room of Father Ambrose. Father Joseph was lying there on the sofa. When he saw us, he rose to greet us for a blessing. Father was very weak, could barely stand on his feet and was yellow as wax. “Is there anything you want to ask?” - said Father. We were not at all ready for this; all our thoughts were occupied with one thing: rather, to Father Barsanuphius. “No, Father, we’re just looking for a blessing,” I answered, and we hurried away. It was very awkward... We left the hut and approached another one, to the left of the Skete gate. The door is locked. The gatekeeper, Father Alexey, tells us: “Father Barsanuphius lives here, he has been receiving since two o’clock, but now he’s still not there, he’s not far away, ten miles from here, and he’ll arrive on Sunday, not before.” This news struck like thunder, the bright sunny day immediately faded, and my heart sank. - Or maybe he will arrive earlier? – I timidly turned to the gatekeeper. “Maybe earlier, but it’s unlikely, I didn’t tell you to wait earlier.” Yes, you can stay with us, it’s good here. “It’s very good, there are no words, but we just need to leave on Friday.” - Well, if he comes, I’ll come and tell you. Where are you staying? Maybe, luckily for you, he will return earlier. Where are you from? We started talking. Father Alexy, it turns out, sold meat in Moscow for 35 years, and after burying his wife, he came to Optina to save his soul. His son and daughter serve in Moscow. Father Alexy spoke, but I didn’t have the strength to listen, I would have flown into Father’s hut, my heart felt that my salvation was close. At this time the enemy was not asleep. My teeth ached unbearably and throughout my stay in Optina they gave me no rest. There was nothing to do, we went home, had lunch and went to wander around the monastery. We went into the icon shop and met a wonderful monk, Father Pimen. He, it turns out, is extremely devoted to Father Barsanuphius, loves him with all his heart. We received the first information about Father from him. In general, the day without Father was not spent in the best way, and my teeth also gave me no rest. At one o'clock in the morning they woke us up for the morning. After the journey to Kyiv and back and several almost sleepless nights, this service seemed unusually difficult to us. It lasted for a little over three hours. After mass, they again came to the Skete in the secret hope that Father had returned, but everything there was mysteriously silent. The legless beggar Zinovy ​​was sitting on the monastery path. He confirmed to us that Father was not there, and they were not expecting him until Sunday, and even then it was still unknown. Sad, we went back and then learned from someone that it is customary to celebrate unction in Optina. We were happy and went to Father Anatoly. Father Vasily sent us to dinner. “Come at 12 o’clock,” he added, “you will receive unction.” And so they did. Twelve of us gathered. A good service, new feelings excited me: the Lord vouchsafed me not only to see what I had not been able to see before, but also to experience this Sacrament for myself. It lasted for an hour and a half. Father Anatoly was completely radiant during the unction, and Father Vasily was also good. That same day we decided to confess. We didn’t know anything then, like the most unreasonable children. They ate fish, didn’t go to services for everyone, and everything like that. At three o'clock they came to confession. Yes, I forgot to say that Father Anatoly blessed us with wooden icons: me, at my choice, with the Holy Great Martyr Barbara, my mother with the Kazan [icon] of the Mother of God, and Seraphim with Saints Tikhon of Zadonsk and Mitrophan of Voronezh. Seven of us confessed. Father took me by the hand, led me to the shrine, ordered me to kneel down and read aloud a general confession. After her they left me alone, and everyone left. I was on my knees, and Father was sitting. – Are your soul and body healthy? – he asked. And he started talking again about various monasteries and quickly dismissed me. I left less than satisfied. Mine came out of confession quickly too. The day passed in melancholy without Father Barsanuphius and in excruciating toothache. There was a strong thunderstorm in the evening. They woke us up again for Matins. Mom developed a severe migraine, and she decided to take communion with Seraphim at the late mass, while I was left alone at the early mass. It was on Friday, May 29, the day of celebration in honor of the icons of the Mother of God “The Never-Slumbering Eye” and “The Help of Sinners” in the Church of St. Mary of Egypt. After communion, I did not experience much spiritual joy, I was very tired and could not think of anything better than to come and go to bed while the late mass was going on, after which my people were supposed to receive communion. Towards the end of the mass I woke up and went to meet my people. And they, it turned out, had already managed to attend mass, receive communion and run to Skete, where, to my great joy, they were told that Father Barsanuphius had returned completely unexpectedly to everyone. As soon as we sat down to drink tea, a prayer was heard outside the door: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on us.” “Amen,” we answered, and Father Alexy entered. He prayed slowly and, turning to us, also slowly said: “Father Barsanuphius has arrived, I already told him about you, I say, the Moscow people are waiting for you here. He asked for his last name, but I didn’t know. “Well, okay,” he said, “let them come at two o’clock.” You’d better come early.” We began to treat Father Alexy to tea, but he refused and quickly left. I don’t know, I don’t even remember how I waited for two hours, how I came to the Skete and how I entered the hut, which this time was hospitably open. The first room, with many icons and a large portrait of Father Ambrose in a coffin, is intended for the poor. Then a semi-dark corridor with two small windows for visitors to wait. At the entrance to it, to the left, there is a prayer room. And right from the corridor - a small room with a marvelous, very ancient Tikhvin icon of the Mother of God, with many icons, instructive paintings, portraits, views, etc. In the same room there was a bookcase, benches and an old chair near the Tikhvin icon. In it, Father received visitors. The cell attendant, Brother Nikita, came out, very young, with an unusually clear, spiritual face and long, curly hair. He asked where we were from and asked us to wait. We waited for about twenty minutes. Seraphim was the first to stand next to Tikhvinskaya, then me, then my mother, and then about seven people. Everyone froze in anticipation, and suddenly... Father came out. I was dumbfounded, it never even occurred to me that the Lord would deign to see such an ascetic face to face, and not only see, but also become one of his spiritual daughters. Tall, fair, straight, wearing glasses, with marvelous dark eyes. He looked at all the people at once and approached the first, that is, Seraphim. - What a good name! – took him by the head. - Well, I wish you to be an Angel in the future. Blessed me. “What is your holy name?” - “Maria.” “What is your holy name,” he turned to his mother. - “Eugenia”... And Father went on to bless the people. From one Diveyevo nun I had a pound of tea and a letter to give to Father Barsanuphius. I decided to hand them over when Father went back, and I did so. Father stopped, and I thought: Father would probably be glad to have some tea. “I don’t know, Father, they told me this through another nun.” - God save her, but the tea is not for me, but for the holy monastery, yes, for the holy monastery. These words made my legs give way; I felt the Elder’s insight. Father took the package from me and went to the men’s quarters. Brother Nikita came out again and said: “Father has gone to confess to the brethren, he will come out in an hour and a half, take the trouble to wait.” Here the enemy rose up in me. Approaching my mother, I firmly said: “I won’t wait, I’m going to Father Anatoly to get his blessing for departure and I’ll go get ready for my room.” “And I’ll stay,” says mom, “you can stay too!” - But why? You've been dreaming about going to Optina so much, you're just afraid. - Not at all, but I have nothing to talk about. I fasted, received unction, what else remains? I quickly left. The enemy chased me as hard as he could. Seraphim also went with me. They began to discuss who was better: Father Barsanuphius or Father Anatoly, and decided that, of course, the first. “Isn’t it true,” I said in emotion, “Father Barsanuphius looks like an Angel of the Lord.” I myself walk and rejoice, I don’t know why, but a small trembling chills me to the bones. We came to Father Anatoly. His crowd, more than ever, barely found a place to sit and sat from three o’clock until half past six. They had already called for Vespers when I managed to approach Father. Seraphim, having stayed with me for an hour and a half, went to his mother and did not return. - Bless you, Father, we are leaving today! Without saying a word, Father Anatoly took me by the hand and pushed me towards the exit: - Go, go to church. And he went home. I thought and thought, and went to church, but I really didn’t want to. I had to stand for almost two hours, I couldn’t pray, I stood and thought: if only the service would end sooner. I also thought that if Father Barsanuphius had been as perspicacious as they say, he would have sent for me to church. And then I reproached myself for my eternal pride and conceit. At the end of the service, Seraphim came running. - Hurry up, go, Father Barsanuphius is calling you. - What’s your name? Father Anatoly, my confessor, sent me here, and I must stand for the service. I said this not at all out of obedience, but out of a desire to avoid going to Father Barsanuphius for as long as possible. A little later, my mother came hurriedly and also began to rush me to Father Barsanuphius. At this time Vespers ended, and we went to the Skete. I think I won’t be wrong when I say that it would be easier for me to walk across hot coals than to see Father. The gods took one step forward and two back. We walked for a very long time. On the way, it turned out that Father, having come out, began to receive people, bypassing his mother in every possible way, who wanted to talk exclusively about everyday matters. This continued until the arrival of Seraphim, to whom Father turned with the words: “Where is mother?” Seraphim ran after his mother, who was sitting on a bench near Skeet, and called her. Father received them both together and, brushing back the hair from Seraphim’s forehead, said: “A contemplative mind, good at studying, but bad at mathematics.” And he began to advise his mother on how to study. Then, when mom stuttered to be left alone, Father told her: “Please come out, I want to get to know Seraphim better.” And, leaving Seraphim alone, he spoke with him for 40 minutes, conducting an additional confession, revealing to him unconfessed sins. Letting go of Seraphim, Father asked: “Go get your sister, she’s in church, call her, I need to tell her something important, otherwise tomorrow it might be too late.” Seraphim said that I was with Father Anatoly, but Father sternly confirmed: “She is in the church.” Seraphim, still doubting, ran to Father Anatoly, where he found out that I was really in the church. Mom, after Seraphim left Father, again began to ask him, to which she received the following answer: “But I told Seraphim to go get his sister, I need to talk to her.” After these words, my mother stopped asking and followed me. We reached Skete. The enemy distracted me in every possible way and encouraged me to leave, but, having crossed myself, I firmly entered the hut. Mom stayed on the bench at Skit, Seraphim came in with me. There seemed to be only one nun in the corridor, who hastened to say: “Father, the young lady you called has arrived.” “I know,” Father Barsanuphius simply answered and, turning to me, said: “Enter the cell.” I went to Tikhvinskaya, and Father hesitated for a few minutes. I crossed myself at the icon of the Queen of Heaven and froze, although I tried to assure myself that Father would talk to me about the letter and tea from the Diveyevo nun. I convinced myself of this on the way to Skete. Father came in, I stood in the middle of the cell. Walking past me and approaching the table, he began to move something on it and, standing with his back to me, asked: – After all, it seems that you gave me tea from the Diveyevo nun? - How come you don’t know her name? – Yes, I received this tea from my friend, a nun, she is now in Moscow, she is being sent to kumiss. – Very weak lungs, fear of consumption. - So, it means that the Diveyevo nun asked your friend to somehow give tea to Optina, and her friend gave it to you? We were silent. Then Father went up to Tikhvinskaya and sat down in a chair. I was confused, I thought, why is this, only the elders in confession order me to kneel. And Father will laugh when he recognizes my thought: – Our rule is this: we sit, and around us, out of humility, they kneel. I just collapsed, let alone stood up. - Closer, closer, even closer. I stood very close, I even had to look away - I was so close to the priest’s face. Father took me by both shoulders, looked at me infinitely affectionately, like no one had ever looked at me, and said: - My dear child, my sweet child, my precious child! Are you twenty-six years old? “Yes, Father,” I was amazed again. – And how much suffering you have seen in your life! - And he hugged me tightly. “You are so young, and you have shed a whole sea of ​​tears in such a short life.” And again he pressed me tightly. I felt that my heart was melting and something inexplicable was happening inside me. My whole soul reached out to Father, I felt that this was exactly what I had been praying for all my life, this was exactly the kind of person who would open my soul himself. “Yes,” Father continued, “you are twenty-six... How old were you fourteen years ago?” “Twelve,” I answered, thinking for a second. - Right. And from this year you began to have sins that you began to hide in confession. Do you want me to tell you them? “Tell me, Father,” I answered timidly. Then Father began to tell me year by year and even month by month about my sins as if he was reading them from an open book. There were cases when he did not directly point out sins, but asked if I remembered this and that. I answered: “This couldn’t happen. Father, I know for sure.” Then the Elder meekly pointed to my heart, saying: “Do you really think that I know this worse than you, I see your whole soul better than you.” And after such words, I instantly remembered the sin. I couldn’t remember only one incident in my eighteenth year, and Father left it for now. The confession, therefore, lasted about 25 minutes. I was completely destroyed, destroyed by the consciousness of my greatest sinfulness and the consciousness of what a great man was in front of me. How carefully he revealed my sins, how afraid he was, obviously, of hurting me, and at the same time how powerfully and severely he denounced them. When he saw that I was suffering cruelly, he moved his ear very close to my mouth so that I would just whisper: “Yes.” Or he would just as quietly say something particularly scary in my ear. – All your life you should be grateful to the Lord, who brought you to us, to Optina. I don’t even know why the Lord is so merciful to you? Could you die now? – And you would go, you know where? Straight to hell. “That’s how everything in me froze.” But in my conceit I thought that I stood out among everyone with my Christian life. God, what blindness, what spiritual blindness! I stood up and went to the lectern. - Repeat after me: Create a pure heart in me, O God, and renew a right spirit in my womb. Where do these words come from? – You will read this psalm morning and evening every day. What icon is in front of you? I remained silent, I couldn’t see. - Tikhvinskaya. Repeat the prayer after me. – I started repeating. The prayer was apparently composed by Father Barsanuphius himself. I know that she was repentant, that I asked God for help in the future, that I promised to improve, but as I said the prayer, I forgot her first words. When I bowed my head, and Father covered me with the stole and began to read the prayer of permission, I felt that such an incredible weight was being lifted from me, it was becoming so easy for me that it was even unusual. It was as if I was filled with some kind of rot, dust - and they shook me out. I couldn't stand it and burst into tears... I cried so much that I thought I would choke and drown in tears. She could not kiss the cross, and with her head bowed under the epitrachelion, she remained there. Father brought the cross very close. Then, taking me by the hand, he said: “You will no longer reveal these sins to anyone in confession, they are forgiven there,” and he pointed his hand to the sky. “Aren’t you, my child, glad that everything happened like this, and the Lord revealed your sins to me?” “I’m terribly glad, Father, all my life I prayed for such a person to be sent to me and I came to you for this.” - Well, the Lord heard your prayer. - Father, we arrived in Optina, you were not there, and I had to confess to Father Anatoly. – Did he treat you? - I didn't understand. – I ask if he treated you, he sometimes puts his hand on his head. – You know, I was supposed to come tomorrow, but I felt that there were perishing souls, and I came today for you. I began to kiss his hands and shoulders, and he began to bless me and gently press me to his chest. I couldn’t raise my head from tears. Father blew on my forehead, as if expelling the remaining dirt. “Raise your head, baby, let me look at your eyes.” They were so swollen from tears that they could hardly look at the light. - How my heart was disposed towards you, how I loved you, and I don’t know why... God is preparing you for something great. Send a ruble to St. Petersburg, order the book “Blessed Monica” 506 from Tuzov’s store, its author is known. The book is very good, if you read it, you won’t regret it, it’s definitely written for you, you’ll see yourself there, all of you there. Then Father began asking about my service, my salary, and various everyday matters. Then he started talking again: - Why, why did I love you so much at first sight? And your soul is disposed towards me. From tears, tenderness, and joy, I could hardly answer in the affirmative and began to kiss my father’s hands again. - After everything that the Lord has revealed to me about you, you want to glorify me as a saint - this should not happen, do you hear? I am a sinful man. You won’t tell anyone what I revealed to you in confession, and you won’t tell your mother. And when mom asks why she was crying, you’ll say, the priest confessed, they talked heart to heart, well, about her sins, and she cried. There are many, many of your friends who are dying precisely because they do not speak in confession, but there is one of your friends, I don’t know her name, but there is one, her death is close, she needs to be saved. So you send everyone to Optina to pray and send them to me: come to Father Barsanuphius for a blessing, and it’s my job to save. I had your brother Seraphim, I fell in love with him, I liked him, he was a good boy, and, it seems, he liked me too. Didn't he say anything? - Why, father, he really liked you, we kept talking to him about how good Father Barsanuphius is! – The Elder pressed me tightly: – My treasure, my precious child, child of God, God help and save you! Father blessed me many, many times and let me go. I went out into the corridor, there was no one, I went to the beggars - it was also empty, I leaned against the wall there and began to cry. Then I became scared that I stayed here when Father told me to go. After praying, I left the hut. Mom, who was sitting with Seraphim and the nun on a bench near the Skete, saw me crying and quickly ran up to me. - Did he tell you to go to the monastery? “No, no, there was no talk about it, but I never thought that I would see such holiness,” I could barely say through sobs, immediately forgetting Father’s instructions not to glorify him to anyone. Through my tears, I began to convey something to my people, and we quietly approached the eastern monastery gate, where Father Pimen met us. Bowing low to me, he said: “You are coming from Elder Barsanuphius, I see, I congratulate you with joy. If she’s crying, it means everything is fine, God help you!” After parting with him, I told my mother: “Let’s walk around the forest a little until I calm down, it’s awkward to walk so tear-stained.” We will stay another tomorrow, I cannot leave without seeing Father again. Mom, who grieved immensely that Father did not take her, despite intense requests, said: “I definitely want to stay myself, maybe tomorrow Father will take me too.” “And also,” I continued, “I agree to live from hand to mouth, just to get out here for a day.” “We’ll arrange that,” said my mother, “you’ll come for a week in July.” I didn’t feel then that this was my spiritual homeland and that I would be here often and for a long time. We returned to the hotel. I couldn’t eat anything, I didn’t sleep well either. The next day I barely waited until two o'clock. There were quite a few Bogomolets-intellectuals at that time, and literally everyone who had seen the Father’s attitude towards us the day before considered it their duty, if not to talk to us, then at least to look and whisper to each other as they passed by. And some simply came up and asked to write down the address. I managed to find out that Father loves flowers very much, and I decided to pick him a bouquet of lilies of the valley, which were in full bloom. Seraphim also collected lilies of the valley. We arrived at Father’s at two o’clock. I didn’t want to go into the second corridor, but Brother Nikita said that the first room was for beggars. Then I entered the second room and stood in the most modest dark corner. Everyone's eyes turned to us every minute. Mom stood closer to the window. Seraphim is opposite me. Father soon came out and while still on the threshold, looking around everyone and seeing me, he smiled tenderly, to which I responded in kind. It was as if Father was rejoicing that yesterday’s conversation bore fruit so quickly. Blessing mom. The priest quietly said: “Peace be with you,” so that none of those standing nearby heard it. Approaching me, Father, blessing me strongly and widely, said: - Peace and salvation to you, when will you come to Optina? - Father, I wish I didn’t have to leave at all! - How, have you forgotten that you have classes in Moscow until half of the summer? - Yes, Father, so when to come? - Well, maybe I'll be alive in September... - How I started crying! - What you? What you? I’ll be alive, and you’ll come for Christmas, and you’ll come next summer – I’ll still be alive. - So bless me to come in July, when my classes end. - God bless. Okay, come in July and stay with us for a month. We will be glad, we will be very glad. Father first of all took Seraphim to Tikhvinskaya, where he forced him to pray and then gave him a nine-course prosphora, saying: “I have been preparing for you for a long time.” Seraphim, in turn, gave flowers to Father. Returning from the beggars, Father slowed down his steps near me, and I, taking advantage of the convenient moment, handed him a bouquet. - Father, take flowers from me. - God save you, where did you get it, here? “You see what grace we have!” - Yes, Father, don’t even say so. Taking the bouquet. Father again turned to Seraphim: - Seraphim, come in the summer, your little sister is getting ready, and we’ll be glad to see you. “I’ll come, Father,” Seraphim announced joyfully. Then Father went up to Tikhvinskaya, and I, wanting to see what would happen to my lilies of the valley, came closer to the door. Slowly, Father put the flowers in the water, then, taking a pretty basket with wax flowers from the table, he headed back to us. In my pride, I decided that this basket was intended for me, but Father passed by. I immediately began to feel reproaches in my soul: “You have always been distinguished by conceit, what kind of treasure did you find to receive such gifts?” But it still turned out that Father’s love was limitless. Approaching my previous place, Father asked Seraphim: “Where is little sister?” The Great Elder came up to me and simply said, handing me a basket: “Take this as a keepsake of me.” I began to kiss his precious hands. Then Father said, blessing me deeply and firmly: “Remember whoever trusts in God will never be put to shame.” Father bowed low to me and, without turning back to face the people, walked to Tikhvinskaya and locked the door behind him, the crowd literally carried me out of the hut in a wave. Comforted, purified and infinitely happy, despite the unbearable toothache, I went to my room to get ready. We walked to the station. We were late for the first train and had to wait three hours. Finally, having reached Tikhonova Hermitage 507, we went to get a free ticket, which our friend was supposed to leave with the cashier. Imagine our horror when we found out that there were no tickets for us, and there were 159 miles left to Moscow. We have money for three of us - 1 ruble 10 kopecks. We turned to the cashier, and he asked the chief conductor to take us to the 40th verst, where a gentleman served as the chief, who promised to give us tickets. But the day before he left for Moscow and did not return. What to do? At least go on foot! Luckily for us, the chief conductor turned out to be a nice and kind person and allowed us to get to Moscow for free... Thus, through the prayers of the great living and dead elders, my spiritual rebirth miraculously took place. Glory to our God! Amen. Novice Elena Shamonina The first time I saw Father Fr. Barsanuphius in 1907 and I will never forget this first meeting. My trip to Optina was preceded by the memorable events of 1905-1906, which so terribly turned so many minds upside down and confused many, it would seem, not weak heads. These years found me as a nineteen-year-old student, a person with unsettled concepts, an unstructured worldview and a head filled with the writings of Russian and foreign authors, of which there were many in those days on the topic: “Freedom of speech, press, faith and other freedoms.” For a long time I rushed from person to person, from book to book, from Tolstoy to Bebel, from both to Bishop Theophan, from there to the writings of people who tried to combine the most terrible destructive ideas with the gospel teaching - and I could not stop at anything, I could not find peace or a foothold in anything. How many times have I tried to force myself to believe some teaching that attracted hundreds of followers, but as soon as I compared it with the beautiful image of Christ the Savior, as I had imagined Him since childhood, all the “ideas” crumbled to dust: no, there is no Savior here, He would not bless these thoughts, these views... And again the search began, again the languor of the spirit, again the tossing from book to book, from person to person. I even reached such a state that I turned to God, praying for help, for light, for deliverance from the darkness that had engulfed me - there was still no light. Only occasionally, like a bright ray in the darkness, like a glimpse of clear sky among menacing clouds, did the memory flash of how I was almost still a child in Sarov, and here was the image of Father Seraphim with his joyful love - he beckoned me to him. But Fr. Seraphim died a long time ago, and now how can there be such a person or one similar to him? Now everything is valued for money, and who needs my poor head, confused in thoughts, teachings, my soul, crying for something that it itself does not understand? And how can you talk about your longing with anyone? Who will understand me when I don’t understand myself? Yes and oh. Seraphim was a monk, but what are monks now? And the antics of many of my acquaintances came to mind, ridicule of the aimlessness of monasticism, the supposedly inactive life of monks, and the licentiousness of monasteries. No, there is nowhere to look for peace... Almost by force, kind people sent me to Optina Pustyn, where I arrived in the summer of 1907. I went to the Skete and ended up in a “shack” to the left of the Holy Gate. There weren't very many people. The cell attendant ordered me to go into a narrow corridor where several nuns and two or three lay women were sitting. Involuntarily succumbing to the mood of reverent expectation, I somehow retreated into myself; my heart sank, but could I admit to myself that I was afraid of something? Of course not! And I took courage and turned over in my mind those “questions” that need to be asked if I can only talk to Fr. Barsanuphius. The door creaked, and in a white cassock, with which gray hair and beard merged, with a serious and concentrated look hidden behind dark glasses, Father came out and began to bless those present one by one. Everyone knelt down in front of him, but this custom seemed strange and humiliating to me (oh, how much young ambition, pride, pride and misunderstanding of where I was, who I was in me then!). Blessing me, Father asked my name, surname, place where I live, and then, going around everyone, invited me to talk. I entered the prayer room, and the image of the Savior involuntarily caught my eye, looking into my soul, and there, next to it, was St. Seraphim. However, I noticed it later. During the conversation, Father asked me who I thought brought me to Optina, and I answered that, probably, the Monk Seraphim, whom I somehow especially fell in love with after a trip to Sarov. “You said it right, but here he is looking at you,” Father pointed to the image of the Reverend. When I entered the prayer room, Father sat down in his chair, sat me down on the sofa and began a conversation that seemed ordinary to me: how old am I, what rank am I, where did I study, how did I graduate, what do I do, and so on. Why did I come to Optina? When I started talking about my confusion about various books I had read. Father interrupted me and ordered me to buy the works of Abba Dorotheus from the shop today and start reading them. “You will like this book,” he ended the conversation and ordered to go to the room, rest, and come again at seven in the evening. I left the hut for the monastery and thought that I was not mistaken, expecting little from meeting Fr. Barsanuphius. A man like a man, he didn’t even listen to my perplexities, whether he should resolve them... I’ll buy a book and at seven o’clock I’ll go to the shack again, but it’s already obvious that I won’t find anything here; and even then, to say that the monastery elders can satisfy the gray, ordinary people, how can they understand the thoughts of an intelligent person! I bought the book indicated to me, and from the very first pages I was overcome by a feeling far from similar to what I experienced during other readings: my soul greedily swallowed the water, without which it was exhausted, and was ready to choke on this speech - although sometimes not entirely clear to me, but so simple, so direct, so unlike the intricacies of intelligent writers. Something new began to live in my soul. It was a pity to break away from reading at seven o’clock and I didn’t want to go to the Skete, but I came for these conversations, I had to finish everything. Let's go. There was no one in the corridor, and I sat down, waiting. Behind the wall, in the living quarters, cups were being tapped. “They drink tea,” I realized, and this seemed tempting to me: after all, ascetics shouldn’t drink tea, they eat bread and water... No, I ended up with an ordinary person, it’s even annoying that I wasted money and lost time; Well, still, at least I could breathe fresh air from the city stuffiness, and the Optina singing somehow touched my soul, and the Zhizdra river rustled so quietly and welcomingly, and the Optina pines hummed so soulfully, and the spirit was somehow calmed, the worries subsided, thoughts flowed more calmly, I wanted to pray. While I was thinking this way, proving to myself that I had at least gotten something from this trip, Father came out and called me to follow him. Bravely and cheekily, I entered the prayer room and expected the same ordinary conversation that was being had in the morning, but only Father’s appearance somehow changed: he looked somehow closed, concentrated, and for some reason my heart sank, anticipating something incomprehensible. And any unknown is scary. I tried to talk about something, but Father interrupted my speech: “Wait, leave it,” the voice sounded serious and authoritative, and I felt that I could not help but obey this vaguely felt power, despite all the courage and swagger of my intelligence. – How old are you now? - an ordinary question, but again strange: this morning we talked about my age. “So,” and the eyes from under dark glasses look at me, I feel that this gaze penetrates me all, that these eyes read in my soul and conscience, as in an open book, “and a new shame covers me, and I want to close this book, shrink, so that not everything is visible to this penetrating gaze.” What was I afraid of? It seemed that my conscience did not reproach me for anything big, and how many times, coming to my confessor for confession, did I not know what to talk about, what to be ashamed of, when life flows so decently, so simply? And I was scared of something. - So, nine years ago, how old were you? - Well, nine years ago, when you were twelve years old, you committed a sin! “It hit me like a whip.” “No, there was no sin,” I object sharply, and my whole soul shuddered, and a terrible struggle began between me, brushing aside the reproof, and Father, insisting on it with amazing patience. - Think! Remember! Try to remember! “But I stubbornly refused: there was no sin!” Then a phrase is said, so ordinary, but shedding new light into the darkness of my conscience: “Maybe you didn’t consider it a sin, maybe you didn’t even tell your confessor about it in confession?” And suddenly I remember a whole period of life, long forgotten, long experienced. I remember fasting at the institute, the eve of confession, thinking about the past year and finding doubt about one experience: is it a sin or not a sin? This is not a sin at all, I decide, and the event is silent, the confession has passed, and now this doubt has been thoroughly forgotten and no longer comes to mind. And only now, many years later, all this suddenly surfaced. - Well, now do you remember? – a stern voice sounds, sounds more like a statement than a question. But should I, with my pride and self-esteem, admit something bad to this person? And it cannot be that the event that came to my mind happened exactly at the time indicated by Father - and if this coincidence does not exist, it means he was mistaken, and I can bravely defend myself. And again the feverish work of thought: where did we live nine years ago? Who did you meet? How was that summer? And a new fear: yes, it was then, it was at the age of twelve that I lived with those people, it was then that this event happened. - Now you completely remember! Tell me this sin! - And new torment: it’s so shameful, so humiliating, so unexpected - and I stubbornly refuse, I refuse. – I didn’t remember anything! There was nothing! I carry out the order unquestioningly, and having returned to the chair on which the Elder is sitting, I somehow find myself on my knees in front of him. In an inexplicable stubbornness that I cannot overcome, I continue to defend my innocence, and then, finally, to the mournful question: “Why don’t you want to tell me this?” - I answer: “Yes, I’m just ashamed!” And again the languor... Trying to avoid the piercing gaze of Father, I accidentally glance at the large image of the Savior hanging in the corner, but He, too, seems to be looking at me reproachfully, and He is waiting for something - and I turn away from the icon. - Why did you turn away? Look to Him, ask Him for strength; Look how kindly He looks at you. Cross yourself! “And my hand, as if hanging on it like a pound, barely rises to make the sign of the cross.” - Now speak! And I started talking. But what I said was only the beginning, only the end of that thread, having grabbed hold of it, Father began to unwind the whole tangle of my past life, which, as it seemed to me, was simple and clear. Something completely unexpected happened to me: sin after sin, disgusting thing after nasty thing, mistake after mistake were remembered, said, and all of this piled up over my head, everything accused me, pressed me to the ground. Finally everything is said. The conversation is over, and I look at my judge, looking confused, just not understanding what happened? What did he do to me? “Tell me,” I hear the stern voice again, “could you die without reaching Optina?” Or in the morning, before they came to me? Or here, in the corridor, while I was busy in the men's half with the monks? - And if I let you go to the hotel now, could you die in the night? “And how can you show up there with everything you have on your conscience?” I can't let you go. We must confess now! There was no need to object. Father slowly put on his clothes, led me to the lectern in front of the icon, ordered me to kneel down, and gave me a sheet of general confession to read. When I got to the words: “And something else,” Father stopped me. “Repeat after me: I sinned before You, Lord, in this and that way,” and the proper names followed for the deeds that horrified me so much. This is over too. My head did not rise from the shame that crushed it. The priest put on the stole and read the prayer of permission. - Maiden Elena, rise up! – he said later, and I got up from my knees, understanding his phrase, of course, only in the literal sense. Seeing exactly how narrowly I understood his words, Father, giving me the Cross, added: “Not only so that you get up from the floor, I told you, no, but you need to get up from sin, from your old life to a new, better one - and to this life, maiden Elena, rise up!” The confession is over - and where did the strict and impartial judge go, who so mercilessly exposed to me the unknown ulcers of my soul. Father has definitely changed, his eyes look caringly, fatherly, and his voice sounds affectionate. - My child, how are you feeling? Do you feel better, is it easier? – I was silent. – How do you feel now? - I’m terribly tired! - I couldn’t help but admit, and it’s true, it was as if I had climbed a huge mountain, my legs were shaking so much and I was so suddenly physically exhausted. – Wouldn’t you rather be tired? After all, what a struggle they endured! Sit down, relax, or better yet, sit on the sofa and put a pillow on it. Sit here until I come. And Father went off somewhere. This gentle tone, this thoughtfulness again stunned me. After that shameful, terrible thing that the Elder saw in my soul, after I became disgusting to myself, - instead of deserved condemnation and contempt, he had a caring, fatherly word for me, so unclean, sinful, and not a sound of reproach, not a shadow of condemnation... Soon Father returned and ordered me to go home or to the cathedral, where that evening an all-night vigil was celebrated on the occasion of a church holiday. I left his cell an hour and a half after I entered it, but I came out completely destroyed. It was not only the people who were ashamed, but even these brooding pines of the Optina forest; It seemed that they knew how unclean and nasty I was. Where did my intellectual arrogance go - all the mental questions and bewilderments faded into the background, and instead of reasoning about the good of all mankind and so on, the question arose about the salvation of my poor soul, which I still did not know at all, which I kept somewhere under a bushel and which in all its nakedness was shown to me quite unexpectedly by this wonderful Elder. The next morning, after late mass in the monastery, going up to venerate the Kazan Icon of the Mother of God, I saw Father Fr. coming out of the side doors of the altar. Barsanuphius, apparently praying in the altar at mass. Yesterday’s impression was so strong, I felt so insignificant in front of him that I didn’t dare not only approach him, but even raise my eyes to him. I lowered my head and remained motionless, waiting for him to pass me. Probably, it was not hidden from the watchful eyes of Father, from his loving heart, that I was experiencing at that moment. I stood without raising my head, and suddenly I felt a blessing hand quietly lay on her. Father crossed me without saying a word and left. I experienced a strange feeling as I prepared, with Father’s blessing, for communion. May they forgive me for recalling here a fable I once read as a child: an ant climbed onto a cart of hay and, seeing that everything - both people and horses - was shorter than it, magnified its height. But when he became very presumptuous, the wind blew and carried him into the sand, under the feet of people and horses, and then he realized how small and pitiful he was. So I felt so self-important and carried away by an ant - and my view on everything immediately changed: those whom I looked at disdainfully from the height of my imaginary mind, education, and especially vanity, inflated by education and the spirit of the time - all of them rose above me, but I actually found myself under everyone’s feet and didn’t dare look anyone in the eye, because it seemed to me that my shame, that everyone knew my sin, and if they didn’t reproach me with it, it was only out of mercy. Later, reading the Holy Fathers, I learned that only then is the beginning of spiritual life possible, only then is the first stone laid in its foundation, when you realize your own insignificance. Then I did not understand what Father had done to me, and I was only surprised at a feeling I had never experienced. I began to prepare to receive the Holy Mysteries, then I communed, and I will never forget how clearly I recognized my own sinfulness then, how I clung to the word firmly spoken by the Elder: “God will bless you to partake.” The fast has passed. But anyone who thought that after that I calmed down completely, resigned myself and took a new path would be mistaken. In order to fully describe Father’s long-suffering and how difficult it was for him with us, I will tell you what followed next. And something similar happened to the incident from the time of the eldership in Optina. Macaria. I remember that from Father I had to hear how merchants and pilgrims used to roll up to the Skete, riding from Kaluga on horseback solely for the purpose of talking with Fr. Macarius, and on the threshold of the Holy Gate they meet some monk with the following speech: “Are you going to Father Macarius? What kind of hunt is this? Is he an old man? So, monk, there are many!” The merchants obeyed and turned their horses and left without visiting the Elder. Apparently, there is always such a diligent adviser, and there were such for me. “Father, Barsanuphius? What kind of old man is he?” – the monk said two or three phrases, some unknown women added, and the work of the enemy of our salvation began. I didn’t realize that I was confusing myself, giving free rein to my thoughts, and it got to the point that after a few days Father Fr. Barsanuphius turned out to be a very, very bad person in my eyes, guilty of many sins. I still don’t understand how I could let myself do this. It’s interesting that this new look at the Elder not only did not bring me peace, but I was completely exhausted in my soul. And even then, it was terrible to be deceived again in one’s quest: it seemed to find a person and then lose him again; and I cried, as if I had buried something dear, I was tormented, but I didn’t know how to help myself. Completely exhausted, I decided to go to the Shamordino Monastery and announced this to Father: – I came to say goodbye, tomorrow I’m going to Shamordino. - Well, if you decide, go... Then I did not understand all the incongruity of my behavior, I did not understand that they came to Optina to the elder not with a ready-made and arbitrary decision, but with a request to bless, one way or another, and with a willingness to obey his decision. I did not ask for a blessing for the trip and did not receive it - I went to Shamordino and spent several days there in terrible languor, not finding any joy in either singing or worship, and finally, completely exhausted, I returned to Optina for my things, since it was time for me to go home. Before leaving, I went to the Skete to “say goodbye” to Father Barsanuphius, believing that this was required by simple politeness, no matter how low he “fell” in my eyes. But when, having arrived at the Skete, I learned from the cell attendant that Father was not at home, and that he would return in two days, my heart somehow sank, the thought that I could leave without seeing the Elder seemed very scary to me, and I vaguely realized that it was not just a matter of politeness. I came in three times to find out if Father had returned, when finally the cell attendant told me to come this evening, for luck, maybe he would return. This was already the deadline for me; I couldn’t delay leaving any longer. Arriving in the evening with another woman, we learned that Father had arrived, and they let us in to wait for him. Soon the Elder came out and called us both to his prayer room together. Having seated us side by side on the sofa, he began the following conversation: – Well, did you like the new cathedral? - Is the meal delicious? Did they feed you well there? – Are the nuns affectionate and friendly? – Glory to You, Lord! Have you rested your soul? “I couldn’t stand this phrase, which sounded ironic in my ears, and blurted out, looking at Father, who was thoughtfully fingering his rosary and looking at us with some concentration: - No, Father, I didn’t rest at all! - What are you talking about? Haven't you rested yet? But the cathedral is good, and they sing well, and the nuns are affectionate, but their souls are not rested?.. What a miracle: the cathedral is good, they sing well, the meal is delicious... but their souls are not rested... What does that mean? The cathedral is good... I felt like I was on hot coals, and the calmer Father was outwardly, the more difficult it was for me, and finally I could not stand it and declared that I seemed to know how to explain this “miracle,” but I only wanted to talk in private. Father asked the other praying mantis to come out, left me alone and began to look at me questioningly. - Well, what do you tell me? - and the eyes look deeply into my soul, and their expression is somehow compassionate and concerned. “Father, I think the reason I was so exhausted in Shamordin was because I was angry with you all the time there.” - What are you talking about?! For what? Maybe I'm guilty of something before you? Then forgive me! I was not at all expecting this humble request, and I felt ashamed and ashamed, and it became clear to me that all those accusations against the Elder that had piled up in my mind during this time were fading. - No, you are not guilty of anything against me, but I just thought badly about you! - Did you think it was bad? what exactly? - Well, I won’t tell you that! After all, I thought offensive things about you! - Why don’t you tell me? I am your spiritual father, and you need to tell your father everything. - No, I wouldn’t say offensive words to my father, and I won’t tell you! - Lock the door! - again the door is on the hook, again I’m on my knees, again the struggle, but this time the matter is complicated by the fact that now all the monstrous thoughts against Father somehow crumbled, lost all semblance of truth, and I felt that they were all just nonsense, just a lie, and that I myself was turning out to be an outrageously ungrateful creature, infinitely guilty before the Elder. And the more clearly I realized the absurdity of my accusations, the more clearly I felt all the moral beauty of the Elder and the more offensive it was to stop relations with him, which, in my opinion, would inevitably follow if he found out how I mixed him with dirt in my thoughts. It seemed increasingly impossible to tell him all my thoughts, but Father persistently demands this recognition and expects it. Finally I gave up. Standing on my knees, turning away from Father, whom I couldn’t even look at out of shame, I said: “That’s what I thought about you,” choosing the most offensive one from the arsenal of accusations. I was waiting for the flash, but Father remained standing, putting his hand on my shoulder, and only calmly and thoughtfully said: - So that’s what I am!.. One! Well, what else? - That's what (another slander followed). I rolled downhill and with despair, clearly realizing that everything I was saying was nothing but lies and slander, I brought accusation after accusation, and Father bent his fingers: “Three... four...”. Finally I fell silent. - “And what else?” - “It seems there’s nothing more!” - I answered and expected that now we would say goodbye dryly, and I would leave, never to return here, I expected Father to say something like this phrase: “It’s very sad that I am like this and that you had to be so disappointed in me. What to do... look somewhere for another person...” - and so on. But I hear Father is silent, fiddling with something in his pocket, and I don’t even dare raise my head to look at him. – Christ is Risen! – I hear. I looked (and this happened after Peter’s Day) - in Father’s hands there was a golden egg on a ribbon, and he was all bright, joyful, affectionate. – Christ is Risen! My child, my child, how could you take these thoughts for your own? They are undoubtedly not yours, they are all from the enemy! And Father began to say how the enemy hates the leadership of the elderly, how he tries to deviate a person from this saving path, and how the very temptations, similar to those I experienced and found at the beginning, upon entering this path, serve as proof of its truth. Like a mountain rolled off my shoulders, that dark wave in which I almost drowned subsided, and Father Barsanuphius became close, dear, and bright. Having received a blessing for the beginning of a new life, life in the name of God, having received the icon of the Mother of God “Quench my sorrows”, with the instruction to especially take care of it all my life, so that after my death it would be placed in the coffin with me, I left Optina. Only when I returned to my usual activities did I understand what had happened to me: the world, which previously had a price in my eyes, lost its attractiveness; activities and affairs that previously seemed so important have lost some of their meaning; having previously experienced previously unfamiliar experiences of repentance, prayer and communication with God, the soul was no longer satisfied with the toys that had previously amused her, and the main place was taken by Optina, her prayer system and, as her best fruit, the old man’s cell and in it this Father, who knows some kind of life-giving word, who knows how to enter the soul, who knows how to hate sin and pity the sinner and fan the spark of God’s light, which was already completely extinguished under the ashes human vanity and sin. Everyday life began, and my soul was still eager to go to Optina, the strength for life was drawn from the letters I received, and I was supported by the thought that vacations would come - and I would end up in Optina again. Then I’ll have time to talk about what was forgotten on the first trip or what is due now, after it. The expected holidays arrived, and I again came to the Elder. I was eager to go there with all my soul, and when I found myself there and was left alone in the hotel room, a new temptation attacked me, my thoughts began to swirl again. It was as if someone was whispering in my ears: “Why did I come here? To talk to the Elder? But nothing will come of this, of course.” True, during this six months so many questions arose, my whole life fell apart, I began to look at everything differently, I had to re-evaluate everything - but is it really possible for another person, a stranger, to convey and express those torments and doubts that I myself cannot understand? How to speak? Where to start? Don't know. I know one thing for sure: if from the first words I feel that Fr. Barsanuphius does not understand me, I will return home with nothing. And the chorus of this whole song is the same: didn’t I come for nothing? Is there any point in shaking in a train car for two nights, leaving your family for the holidays, traveling hundreds of miles away - and all this for the sake of a conversation with one person? Are there not enough people there, near me? And again, somehow everything I had experienced in the summer was forgotten, the image of the perspicacious Elder, who saw my whole soul, faded - and under the influence of the surging doubts, I came to the conclusion that it was just time to run away without waiting for a meeting with Father. And I had to convince and deceive myself: Elder - Elder, but isn’t Optina beautiful in itself? Her divine services, her chants, her detachment from the world, especially noisy and bustling during Christmas time - won’t all this bring bright moments to a hungry soul? Let the Elder tell me nothing new, but at least in the Optina atmosphere of spiritual joy about the born Lord, the spirit, exhausted by the hustle and bustle of the world, will perk up. Before going to Father, I tried to concentrate and wrote down in the form of a note what I would like to talk about, and left this note at home. Arriving at the usual time, that is, at two o’clock, I received a blessing and advice: to go home now, and in the evening at about seven o’clock to come again. That's what I did. And here is my first one-on-one conversation with Father during this visit. How good it was in the prayer room then! The lamp glowed slightly like a green star in front of the image of the Savior. Outside the window, Skeet was sleeping in his winter sleep. There was no one in the house. It was blowing strongly from the window, and Father sat down in a chair near the stove, and I sat at his feet, on a low bench. To my great surprise and bewilderment, Father began to speak himself, without waiting for my questions. He said that many world celebrities visited Optina and talked with the elders in this very cell where we are now sitting. So, Dostoevsky was here and had long conversations with the Elder 508. Dostoevsky was troubled by many questions, and he spoke to the Elder about them. So, for example, Dostoevsky complained about this: Father slowly and in detail tells me his conversation with the Elder, the painful questions he had and the answers he received to them. But I’m still worried that Father talks about Dostoevsky, but I have a lot of my own, sick and painful, and I want the story about Dostoevsky to end as soon as possible, so that I can talk about myself, ask my questions. However, my father’s story little by little began to touch me to the quick. Dostoevsky posed questions that were not indifferent to me, and, in the end, forgetting about my thoughts and the notes in the issue, I listened with keen interest to how the most seemingly insoluble problems were simply solved by the Elder. The conversation is over. The tired Father rose from his place, blessed me for the night, and I left, pacified by this quiet conversation, the light of the lamp, the breath of Divine grace, felt near Father. Upon entering the room, I immediately caught my eye on a piece of paper left on the table with a summary of my questions, and I took it up with the thought: maybe tomorrow I’ll be able to talk about them. But what was my amazement when I saw that most of these questions had already been answered, that these were the questions Dostoevsky proposed in his time and received answers to. So that’s what Father did, that’s why he didn’t listen to me, he continued his speech; and, therefore, he only hid behind the name of another elder, hiding his insight, with which he answered me before I asked, and outlined and expressed my perplexities, attributing them to Dostoevsky, more clearly than I myself could have done it. But I doubted whether he would understand me? And again I had to reproach myself for my lack of faith, and most importantly, I somehow realized that Father knows my burden before I try to express it in words. And my heart felt light. On my same visit, during one of the conversations, Father took off his cell cap from his head and put it on me. - Let me see what kind of nun my little girl will be? – I took it as a joke, because I had no thoughts about monasticism. Even more, at the beginning of my acquaintance with Father, I asked him whether, in his opinion, it was possible to be saved in the world, because “I cannot go to the monastery, and I will not go,” as I directly told him. I would like to quote Father’s answer: – You can be saved while living in the world, only... be careful! Imagine an abyss, at the bottom of which a stormy stream is bubbling: terrible monsters constantly poke their heads out of the water, opening their mouths, preparing to swallow anyone who falls into the water. You know that you must certainly cross this abyss, and across it there is a narrow, thin perch. What a horror! What if the perch breaks under you or your head starts spinning and you fall straight into the mouth of terrible monsters? How scary! Can I cross it carefully? “With God’s help, of course, everything is possible, but it’s still scary.” And suddenly they say to you, look over there to the right, just two or three steps away there is a bridge built on solid foundations, with iron railings - why tempt God, why risk your life, and isn’t it easier to go that safe way? Do you understand me? The abyss is the sea of ​​life that we all need to cross, the perch is the path of the layman, the bridge, fenced on all sides, solid and stable, is the monastery. I then replied that if this bridge is inaccessible to me, then with God’s help I will cross the perch. And Father agreed with me. That was the end of the conversation about the monastery for now, and that’s why now the priest’s joke with the cap surprised me. And let me tell you: a whole four and a half years passed after this joke until it actually came true. And there was still a lot to go through until then. This second trip to Father finally tied me to him, and in the future, at the first opportunity, I tried to get to Optina. I clearly remember these trips, and especially the first minutes after arriving at Father’s. Life in the world went its own way, but in our time it is difficult to live a day in the world and maintain purity of thought and conscience. The worries of your own and others, the vanity and noise of everyday life, constant deviations from what you yourself consider to be the only true thing - and remorse for these deviations, the desire to live a real life for the sake of Heaven and God, but in reality - life for the earth and earthly things. And all this, piling up day after day, completely suppressed the spirit, and it seemed that he could no longer perk up, no longer return to bright and holy ideals. In such a state, you used to go to Father, and the closer the minute you saw him, the more terrible it became from the knowledge that he would see my whole soul, see all the spots that had darkened it during this time. I’m ashamed to look into his eyes, I’m afraid that, having become convinced of my incorrigibility, Father will no longer want to deal with me. You used to come to a familiar shack, hide somewhere far away in a corner, so that you wouldn’t be so ashamed, so that you could hear Father’s voice before he saw you, and you waited. All around, women beggars, whom Father himself gave alms every day, and when he was tired, through the cell attendant, are holding their conversations while waiting. Children come and go, also waiting for the Old Man, who often has either candy, or gingerbread, or just a kind word for them. Some people are especially distinguished by Father. So, one tiny girl is known under the name “Anna Sergeevna”, another, already quite big, about ten years old, is nicknamed “mathematics” by him, and she is entrusted with the responsibility of equally distributing Father’s alms among the beggars. The girl bears the imprint of seriousness, and she calms down her mischievous friends: one feels that she values ​​the Elder’s trust, and recognizes herself as responsible not only for herself, but also for them. The corridor, barely lit by two windows, is completely full. Visitors occasionally talk to each other, a cell attendant will go into the prayer room to straighten the lamp - everyone is waiting. Then the door from the living room creaked, everyone stood up and fell silent: “Father has left!” Father is out!” And everyone is waiting for him to pray in front of the Tikhvin Icon of the Queen of Heaven, talk and bless those waiting there, in the front, more honorable room, and then quietly walk along the corridor, stopping with the new arrivals, saying a kind word to the despondent, blessing everyone. Finally, Father reached the threshold of the last room. In a white cassock, in a half-robe, with a rosary in his belt, all light, white - hair, beard, white cassock, and a pale, pale face. The beggars are crowding, those who have come for blessings are bowing at their feet - it’s my turn. The vigilant eyes of the priest look deeply, deeply into the soul. – One means – with God. Are you healthy? - God bless you, Father, I’m healthy. - All glory to God, then? And there, in the heart, is everything also glory to God? - What a terrible question! What to answer? And Father himself answers: - Apparently, we will fight to the grave, and we can’t still say that in our hearts everything is glory to God... well, at least we will fight! And it also happened that you would arrive very embarrassed, tormented, and Father knew this for sure and, blessing others, would look at the newcomer and seem to light up all over with quiet affection, as if he would be delighted - and would not say anything, but his soul would immediately brighten. And a strange thing: one or two words, like: “Thank God that I came, we’ll figure it out with you, what happened there,” and the sad consciousness of complete incorrigibility disappears somewhere. It occurs to me that if Father has not yet despaired of me, then there is no need for me to despair: “Reh, behold, now I have begun,” - again it seems possible to start a new life, to start in a good way. You will somehow calm down and settle down in a shack. Books and leaves are laid out on the table, and a monastery flower garden looks out the window. The Queen of Heaven from the icon looks so lovingly, but also a little sadly, as if grieving over our weakness, weakness, troubles and misfortunes. The clock on the wall is ticking, and everything is so peaceful, so quiet all around, although there are dozens of people waiting in the corridor. The priest receives visitors one after another in his prayer room. He will walk from there several times to the men's quarters, and along the way he will stop with one or the other of those waiting, by the evening the people will begin to pour out, and Father will worry that we are tired, that we are hungry, and orders us to be given a treat: wonderful skete kvass and bread. And then he will say: “You’re tired, go and rest, and then come at seven o’clock and we’ll talk.” We used to rejoice at these words the most. This is how these precious evenings that the Elder gave us, despite his fatigue after a whole day of work, come to mind. Father himself sits in his chair, and he will place us somewhere, and begin to speak, and we will remain silent, afraid to utter a word from his conversation. Taking to begin with some text from the Holy Scriptures, or an excerpt from some book, or even a poem by a worldly writer, Father spoke quietly about the same thing, about the only thing needed, about the salvation of the poor human soul, about the Kingdom of Heaven, about the fight against the enemies of our salvation. The lamp is glowing before the image of the Savior, the prayer room is immersed in twilight, freshness and fragrance emanate from the window, and the sound of Father’s voice goes straight into the soul, waking it up, encouraging it, refreshing it. Knowing well the souls of his listeners, Father knew how, in his conversation, unnoticed by others, to touch upon what was painful for one or the other. And it seemed to everyone that Father’s conversation was addressed specifically to her. Everyone left with the desire to carry on longer, not letting it go out, that fire that was lit in the soul by the skillful hand of the Elder. I remember one incident now. One nun, Father’s spiritual daughter, came to Optina. We knew each other, and therefore, rejoicing at the opportunity, we talked a lot about life with each other. By the way, this nun, who suffered many temptations from the sisters of the monastery, told me that it is very difficult to escape in the hostel, since the clashes of the sisters among themselves interfere. Not so in solitude - there salvation is much closer to man. Therefore, she decided to go into seclusion: “I’ll build myself a small house and shut myself up in it.” When I asked how the Elder viewed this decision of hers, she replied that she had not told him about this yet and for some reason was afraid to tell him. Somehow earlier I had to hear from Father about the danger of a solitary life for young ascetics, and therefore I persuaded my friend to definitely ask Father before deciding for herself. “Okay, I’ll go to confession and ask,” she decided. This conversation took place during the day, and it almost continued in the evening, while we were drinking tea before going to Father. We arrived at the prayer room and settled down to wait for the Elder, who soon came out and, as usual, began to speak. In the middle of the conversation he suddenly asks us: – Does any of you know nun E.? “Quite a few of those present knew her.” - After all, that’s what a temptation is with her! It seems like she’s a serious nun, so she fell for the enemy’s bait! He writes to me: “It is impossible to be saved in a monastery, I want to go into seclusion.” Lord my God, after all, what doesn’t come to a person’s mind! I wrote to her: “Which shutter do you need? And where will you shut yourself up? Are you going to build some kind of hut for yourself?” And Father chuckled for a long time, shaking his head and wondering how the absent nun could succumb to this hostile thought. And after the conversation, when we were walking from the Skete, my friend just sighed: “Oh, Father, he hit the nail on the head! Well, Father!” And, it seems, she no longer thought about the shutter... And there were a lot of such cases. The conversation is over. The night has long enveloped the Skete, the forest, the path along which we need to go. Father gets up from his chair and prays, he prays for all of us. Then he blesses us for the coming sleep. Late. The elder is apparently tired, but he has a kind word for everyone: are you dressed warmly, won’t you catch a cold, are you afraid to go? It’s a pity to leave this blessed cell, and quietly, one after another, we get out onto the porch, and Father came out behind us, raised his head, admiring the starry sky, the sleeping forest... “Peace and salvation to you,” he bows to us, and the door slams, and we stand and wait for the hook to click, and the light of the candle from which Father saw us off disappears in the window. But the light doesn’t go away: the figure of Father appears outside the window. He holds his candle high, and it brightly illuminates the forest path along which we must walk. We will bow to Father, he will cross us again, and we will walk along the path, looking back at the light in the window. After all, in fact, our whole life went like this: Father stood with a light in his hand, and we, weak children, hobbled along the roads and crossroads of the world, and no, no, let’s look back at the light - and life will not be so scary when you know that this light is burning somewhere. It's scary to walk through the forest when the window of his house doesn't light up. And now: our Father has gone to rest, and the light has gone out in the window - we are afraid to go through the forest! The fasting in Optina is also memorable to me. It used to be that the day of confession was appointed, and all the confessors gathered in the prayer room. In the first years, Father usually forced one of the confessors to read a general confession of sins, and then invited them individually for confession and prayer of absolution. In recent years, Father more often read the confession himself, or, rather, confessed for us in his own words, only as a plan, using the sheet of confession that he held in his hands. Slowly, one after another, he named the sins with which we offend the grace of God, and often, naming the sin, and looking at someone present, he explained under what circumstances, how it could have been committed - and, it seemed, he read again in our souls. It happened that we would go in for a prayer of permission, but there was nothing to add, everything was said in front of everyone, but in such a way that no one understood it except the person responsible. Along with fatherly affection and tenderness, Father had other ways of senile guidance, and rather decisive ones. If he knew how to caress and warm a person’s soul, then he also knew how to teach, probably wanting to temper and strengthen the spirit of his spiritual children. Father himself somehow let slip about this side of his “nurturing.” Once, having arrived in Optina after a long period of time, I lived for several days and still could not get to Father alone. Finally, the day of confession was set. While waiting for her, I was very worried: a lot of time had passed, I had experienced even more, and confession scared me. I arrived at two o’clock, but three, four, five hours pass - Father receives visitors one after another, but walks past me and doesn’t look. Finally I couldn't stand it anymore. Father forgot, I think, and when he passed by me, she asked: - Father, have you forgotten that you ordered me to confess? - No, I haven’t forgotten, I remember everything perfectly, just please be patient a little. It seemed to me that I asked the question humbly, but Father detected a tinge of impatience in my tone. Much time later he remembered this and similar incidents. “I walk past and see that it’s all boiling,” Father said to another person, but in my presence, “and I think to myself: nothing, let it boil, boil, boil - it’s better to cook!” And Father sometimes boiled for a long time! I remember one time I came to him to decide on a change in my place of service. This question was connected with so many circumstances, it affected the interests of people close to me, I could not solve it without advice, and it was impossible to put it off any longer. My journey took place at the end of the sixth week of Lent. On the way from Moscow to Sukhinichi, our train was very late. And in Sukhinichi we missed the train to Kozelsk. I had to sit at the station for almost a day, and this coincided with Palm Sunday and the Day of the Angel Father on April 11, when I especially wanted to be in Optina. Meanwhile, I had to spend the night at the station and sleep side by side on the floor in a cramped and dirty ladies' room. I remember, exhausted by the previous sleepless night, the excitement on the way, I, like a helpless child, was ready to cry at the station from the consciousness of complete powerlessness to change my situation. By evening, however, the station master had mercy on us and sent us to Kozelsk with a freight train. I arrived at the place late at night, and the next morning the spiritual daughters of Father who knew me, who had seen him the day before, greeted me with questions: what happened to me yesterday? It turns out, accepting congratulations. Father said with concern: - But L., poor thing, is now crying in Sukhinichi - God help her! I came. Father received me kindly, ordered me to fast, confessed, but postponed all business conversations until Easter. Passionate days have passed, which have a particularly strong impact on the soul precisely in Optina, where you acutely feel the sorrow of Christ’s Cross, and then warm yourself in the rays of joy about His Resurrection. The first day of the holiday passed, receptions began in the hut, and conversations about leaving began. My classes have already started at Fomina. I asked Father to see me alone for a separate conversation. - How can you not accept it? I'll definitely accept it! What are you saying that you just need to say “one word”? “You can say two, three, or ten,” Father reassured. But day after day passed, and I still didn’t have to say a word. Father conducted conversations with everyone together, received some people separately, but he did not have a free minute for me. Meanwhile, returning home without resolving the issue of a place seemed simply impossible to me. On the eve of my departure, Father announces that he has very little time, that he will not talk to me, that I must briefly state on paper my main business, and he will answer. This order upset me very much, since I was expecting a face-to-face conversation. However, I had to obey. I stated my case in a rather harsh tone and sent this letter to the Skete. The next day I had to leave, but Father unexpectedly, through others, gave me permission to stay an extra day. I arrived at three o'clock. The reception of those who remained in Optina for a few more days began, but it was still not my turn. Do you really have to leave like this? And at home, from the first moment, questions that are so painful will flare up again, without the resolution of which it is impossible to take on anything. Hour after hour passed, the monastery struck for vespers, and Father began to send everyone out to church. “Go and pray,” I hear his voice. Gradually everyone who was near the prayer room left, leaving me alone in the depths of the corridor. Father went to the men's quarters and, passing by me, suddenly stopped and said so seriously and sharply: - I read your letter! – I was silent, waiting for what would happen next. “Listen, I read your letter,” Father repeated even more sharply and dryly. I was somehow confused and didn’t know what to answer. Just losing patience. Father with a sharp movement sat me on the bench. - Sit here! - And he left. I was left alone, not at all understanding what Father would do next, but did he leave me for some reason? That’s right, he’ll take my letter, come out, call me to the prayer room, and I’ll get an answer to everything, everything. If only there weren't too many people again, they wouldn't interfere! As if in response to my selfish thought, the cell attendant came out, told me that Father asked me to wait a little, and locked the front door. So, I sat alone on a bench, sensitively listening to every movement behind the wall in the men’s half. Half an hour passed. Steps. My heart froze. The cell attendant came out again: “Father told me to tell you that he doesn’t have time to come to you today, he sends you a blessing in absentia and asks you to see you tomorrow at the usual time.” They poured a tub of cold water on me: this is how I talked to the Elder, this is how I got a solution to all my questions - and tomorrow I have to leave. I’m ashamed to admit, but I was just angry with Father, upset, and just about ready to run away. Only on the day of departure was Father finally able to find a moment for me, and I left somewhat reassured. However, the shock was not in vain for me. A new temptation arose: it began to seem that Father had nothing to do with me, and he did not see what was happening to me, and that this was not the guidance of an old man, but mere torment. Summer has come. The end of my classes. Previously, I rejoiced at this time and the opportunity to go to Optina, but now I was not drawn to anywhere, and it was even scary to think that I would come again for drills, “for withdrawal,” similar to what I had to endure at Easter. Not understanding the old man’s guidance, I was embarrassed by Father’s manner of pretending that he didn’t see me, didn’t notice my condition, and didn’t care about my torment. The helpful thought also added that he was demanding from me an impossible feat, which I was absolutely incapable of, that life under his leadership was beyond my capabilities, and was it even necessary? All these thoughts chilled me, fatigue after the working winter added doubts, and I, not daring to write everything in truth, complained to the Elder in a letter about my exhaustion, but still asked for a blessing to come to Optina. Having sent this letter, rolling downhill in my thoughts, I decided that I needed to give up my father’s leadership, trips to Optina, spiritual life, which is so difficult, and live a simple, intelligent life “like everyone else.” Without waiting for an answer to my first letter, I sent a second, where I said that I could no longer live like Father, and that visiting him and not obeying him I considered empty hypocrisy, that I could not live without those secular pleasures and activities that everyone enjoyed and which were forbidden to me, and that I decided to come for the last time to look at the monastery and Father, say goodbye and leave forever. This letter was omitted, and on the same day a short answer to the previous one was received with advice, due to my fatigue, to postpone the trip to Optina for a month. I read this advice and left on the same day: after all, I was burning my ships, I was only going to say goodbye to Father, and it doesn’t matter whether it’s one more or less disobedience. As I approached Optina, my rebellious mood melted; I did not leave Sukhinichi with such a firm decision to “say goodbye and leave forever” with which I left home. And when they hired a horse from Kozelsk, when peasant fields flashed before me and the Optina bell tower glanced from a distance against the backdrop of its evergreen forest, then it already clearly sounded in my soul: “You stupid, stupid! How could you forget that here is what fills your whole life, that here everything is dear to you, and if not here, then you will not find peace for yourself anywhere. Where do you go from here? All the high-profile decisions were shattered to smithereens, doubts somehow faded away - I wanted to be glad that I was getting to my homeland again, as I often wanted to call Optina Pustyn - but I was traveling without a blessing, and my last letter would arrive before me. How will my homeland meet me this time? And wouldn’t Father find it necessary, taking me at my word, to send me back to the world, which, as I suddenly realized, would never, ever give me peace and satisfaction. What a stupid, reported child I felt as I approached the monastery hotel! I came to the Skete and sat down in the first room, behind the women who came for alms: who knows how Father will meet me? Most likely, he will say: “Have you come to look and say goodbye for the last time? Well, look - and goodbye! In this case, I will go out, and no one will see me disappear forever from Optina. I pressed myself against the doorframe, and my heart ached: could this be the last time I’m here? And where will I lay my poor head now? There was a stir in front, everyone stood up: Father came out. Because of the tall woman who completely obscured me, I looked at the door of the corridor, waiting for the Elder to appear in it. Here he is on the threshold, but instead of, as usual, beginning to bless those waiting and give gifts to the poor, he looks over the crowd, apparently preoccupied with something: “Let me in, servants of God, let me pass, let me in!” The servants of God look around in all directions in bewilderment, not understanding what the Elder wants from them, and, obeying his order, they part on both sides, forming, as it were, a corridor, at the beginning of which Father stands, and at the end, not obscured by anyone else, I find myself. A minute passed, as if waiting, when I felt that Father was looking intently at me, without moving from his place, and then I had to approach him, although at that moment I was ready to fall through the ground. – Did you receive my letter? – (Here it is, it has begun! Will something happen now?) – Where did you write about the end of this month? – And yet you’ve arrived now? “Father, I couldn’t wait any longer, it was unbearable.” – And thank God that she came! It was God who made you come. It was good that she came now. Go and sit in places you know! And here I am again in the corridor, again those waiting are whispering around me, again Father passes by us from time to time, walks by and, shaking his head, says, either to himself or to those around him: - Come on, what kind of misunderstanding can happen: a person writes to me - I’m sick, I don’t have the strength to travel, and I don’t have any money, - well, I answered to postpone the trip, - after all, I wouldn’t put her in debt? And she took it and came and said: “I’m so sick,” and Father chuckles. Father did not mention my second letter (“to say goodbye forever”) all day, and then, the next day, in response to my question about it, he replied that my letter had been “received and destroyed.” - This, God save you, Father! This ended the episode of my “farewell to Optina,” and it seems to have further strengthened my roots in the fertile land of Optina. The next day a new consolation awaited me. Many rich people used to bring gifts, things, and treats to the Elder, which were not only used by himself, but were distributed to spiritual children. I also decided to bring him something, and I grabbed a bag of mint gingerbread, knowing that Father loves to give them to poor children, and sometimes to his adult “children.” But on the first day after my arrival, when I was not sure whether Father would accept me, there was no time for gifts, and I sent them only after returning from Skete, in the evening. The next day, going out for a blessing and heading to the poor, Father, passing by me, said with concern and quite clearly: “I need to go get some gingerbread,” and soon he came out of the closet door with a bag I knew in his hands. “If you want, follow me,” he said barely audibly, and I followed him into the corner of the first room, filled with poor children. Father began to give them gingerbread cookies. “God bless you, Father,” the children squealed. – There’s nothing to thank me for! I’m not giving this to you, it’s not mine, this girl is giving it to you, you need to pray for her! - Father, what is her name? – asked the girl, who was smarter. - Yes, I’m not talking about what to call! And you just pray for the girl, pray that just as she comforts you, so the Lord will please and comfort her. Do you hear? - We hear you, Father! God save the girl! This scene was very characteristic, and the fate of my gingerbread cookies, and everything that was brought to Father by people devoted to him, he accepted with one hand and distributed with the other, rejoicing at the opportunity to console both those who give and those who receive, and putting aside gratitude from himself: - I’m not giving you mine! Pray for those who gave to me. This unexpected scene touched me very much: it was at this time that I needed someone’s prayer, because I felt that I was completely confused in myself, and this prayer of children who were strangers to me for a “girl” unknown to them made me very happy. The Lord hears children's prayers - He can hear this one too. This summer Fr. Barsanuphius kept me in Optina longer than usual, and the storm I endured taught me a lot. Remembering my adventures and feeling guilty before Father, I finally understood what I had not understood for years: that when we come to Optina for spiritual alms, we have no more right to the attention of the Elder than all these women who come to him for alms. How grateful they are for every penny they receive! And they have no right to grumble even in case of refusal! We should feel the same way, that is, give thanks for everything we receive from the Elder and not allow our thoughts to grumble and upset our souls. Cases of insight and spiritual experience of Fr. Barsanuphius was led to think that he knows better than me where to lead me, what to say and what to teach me, and my job is to draw lessons from everything - both good and seemingly unkind (like [his] Easter severity) - firmly remembering that he is consciously educating me with both his word and his silence, attentive care and seeming complete neglect. I don’t know if I was able to clearly explain the essence of the change that took place in me, but from that time on a completely new period of leadership began. Previously, I needed private conversations, the constant attention of the Elder - now I was glad to have the opportunity to sit and listen to phrases from Father’s conversations with others. Previously, even the slightest reproachful remark from him about me would cause an explosion of grief, resentment, and even murmur on my part. And now I cannot forget my ingratitude when I almost completely escaped from Optina - and I did not hear a word of reproach for it. Whatever the Elder says now, no matter how harshly you treat me, it will still not be enough for me, I deserve even more. And it used to be that I spent whole days in the corridor, and rarely did I leave without a lesson. Did Father feel the change that had taken place in me and therefore went, so to speak, to meet me halfway, or before he acted in the same way, and I, due to my inattention and fussiness, missed a lot of things, not knowing how to use his words thrown in passing, but now I spent whole days watching, listening, learning. I still remember several of these lessons today. One time two nuns arrived and told Fr. Barsanuphius received news of the death of his spiritual daughter, who died of consumption. Before her death, she was tonsured into the schema, confessed, received communion and died. She was conscious until the end and asked her request for forgiveness and blessing to be conveyed to Father. How the Elder’s face brightened at this story! And how soulfully he said several times: “Blessed soul!” And immediately, turning to the icons, he prayed for her repose. Another time, and also in front of everyone, Father spoke to a young girl who had been educated in a monastery orphanage and was planning to go into the world: – You can’t do this! I don’t argue, there are people living in the world and being saved: God is able to save a person everywhere, but the girl, who has already lived in the monastery fence and is about to leave it, is in terrible danger. The enemy hates monasticism, and if one of these goes into a world where there is neither a monastery fence nor sisters’ prayers for protection, and where the enemy attacks her with redoubled force, then her death is almost inevitable. Stick to the monastery. I remember from afar a lady who arrived, mourning her beloved son, who, it seems, shot himself. I remember her sorrowful complaints, her tears and the priest’s quiet speeches to her, and when she walked away, the words he said thoughtfully, as if to himself: “What a sorrow! No, perhaps it’s better not to get married.” One lady asked for a blessing to travel to Jerusalem. - To Jerusalem? Which one? Old or New? – After all, how many Jerusalems are there? - No, not two. One is old, in Palestine, the other is new, near Moscow, and what is the third? The heavenly Jerusalem is in the sky, and there is a fourth one - the one in the heart. This is the one that needs to be found; and go to it. God bless you and everyone else! An old peasant woman from one of the nearest villages pitifully explained to Father that she had nothing to live for: she was married and had children—she gave birth to eighteen people—who died, and those who were alive grew up, but they didn’t want to feed their mother, and they beat her. The old woman cried and asked to help her. And again Father remarked, without addressing anyone: - This is what it’s like to get married: you raise children, and then they beat you, and in your old age you are left alone. Perhaps it’s better for you not to go out! Another old woman, also coming for alms and talking to Father, repeated several times: “Old lady, Father, old lady!” Father smiled: - Old lady? Maybe just an old woman? “Old lady,” she remained true to herself. - Well, so be it! - and Father turned to the middle-aged lady present here: - Perhaps you wouldn’t be called an old lady? - No, Father, you can call it! - Well, what about you? – he turned to me. - No, Father, perhaps it’s impossible! - It is forbidden? What about sins? – the Elder looked at me thoughtfully. Of course, I had to take my words back, and he added: – Due to our sins, we are all “old ladies”, we are all sinners, we all need redemption, renewal, and we receive it by communicating with the Lord Jesus Christ through the Sacraments. Here's an update. You know, it is said: your youth will be renewed like an eagle! 509 One day two women came for alms. Having gone, as usual, to the men’s quarters, Father took money out of there and, in response to the renewed requests of the women, began to tell them that he could not give them much, but would give them two kopecks. One of them thanked her for this, and the other asked for more, because she couldn’t feed her children on two kopecks. She spoke a lot and at length about her poverty, but the Elder interrupted her and continued to insist that he would give both of them two kopecks. Then he called one of those present and gave her two fifty kopecks, loudly saying: “Here you go!” Give them two kopecks!” She gave it away. Seeing silver in their hand instead of the promised copper, the women began to thank the Elder, but Father objected: “But I’m not giving mine, just as she (through whom he gave) did not give hers. God bless!" And then he told us, when the women were no longer there, that the elder Fr. Ambrose loved to give this way, through third hands: “And to those who receive joy, and to her, who gives, joy!” It was good that summer in Optina, but suddenly thunder struck: Father fell ill at the beginning of July. I remember that on July 10, he was going to talk to me about something, but in the morning he didn’t have time because of the people and ordered me to come after Compline, at about five o’clock. I arrived at the appointed time to the empty hut and soon heard my father’s steps. He came out to me, pale and serious: “For God’s sake and for your sake,” he said and led me to the prayer room. Having briefly spoken about my case, the Elder complained of his exhaustion and ill health. He said that today, after finishing the reception, he went to his half completely exhausted, with his head burning with heat, and only the cell attendants brought him some relief by applying cold ice to his head. “I’ll go to bed now,” said Father. During the conversation, he put his hands on my shoulders - his hands were cold as ice, and I still remember how cold they were even through my clothes. And she left with the confidence that the Elder would go to bed. Indeed, the next morning at mass they were already praying for the health of the ill Abbot Barsanuphius, and at two o’clock the cell attendant told those who came that Father had fallen ill and that there would be no reception. The tedious, hard day dragged on. Something has not changed my mind during this time. It was especially difficult for us because there was nowhere for us to get reliable information, and we suffered, rushing here and there, like sheep without a shepherd. Finally they decided to contact Father’s confessor, Fr. Theodosius, who was going to the Skete, and he promised us, when returning back, to notify us of the form in which he would find the Elder. The second half of the day passed in agonizing anticipation of Fr. Theodosius, who did not return for a very long time. Four, five, six, seven hours passed, it began to get dark, all the monastery gates were locked, and Fr. Theodosius is still not there. What does it mean? Is it better for Father, and they started talking to him? Or worse - it was creepy to think about it. Finally we saw Fr. Theodosius and rushed to him. I really wanted him to calm me down, to say that Fr. It’s better for Barsanuphius that his fears were in vain, but we didn’t hear anything like that, and Fr. Theodosius promised little good. Somehow he hesitated at our intolerable questions, and then said: “Father is very sick, and now I have tonsured him into the schema.” Father was so weak that at the end of the tonsure he began to urge: “Hurry, hurry!” This news made the same impression on us as the message about unction and communion makes in the world. To be tonsured into the schema is to be tonsured to death, flashed through our minds, and we were completely at a loss. Seeing our grief, Fr. Theodosius added sympathetically: “I would be glad to console you, servants of God, with something, but how to console you? Bad Father! It is impossible to describe how we spent the night. One thought stuck like a nail in my head: alive? Or maybe it's already over? And all night we listened for fatal blows from the bell tower. The next day they again prayed for the sick person, and then the spiritual children served a prayer service with an akathist to the Kazan Icon of the Mother of God and the Heavenly patrons of the Elder - St. John the Baptist, St. Barsanuphius, St. Apostle Paul, St. Ambrose. By evening we learned that Father had become stronger. The next morning there was another rumor: The old man was worse. They served a memorial service for the deceased elders of Optina in the hope that they would pray to God for the sick. And another day of languor. We knew that Father was in bed, and yet at the usual time of his reception, at two o’clock, everyone involuntarily reached out to the Skete and sadly dispersed, having heard the same phrase: “Father is sick and there will be no reception.” I had to witness scenes that emphasized how much people needed the Elder, how much his absence was felt. People who came for a short time from afar to talk with him did not want to leave the gates of the Skete, sent through the cell attendant requests for at least a blessing in absentia, and asked for an answer to their questions. It was a pity to see the grief with which they left and left, unable to wait for the Elder’s recovery. On the third day of Father’s illness, when we came to the Skete at the usual time, a thunderstorm struck with heavy rain, and we did not know where to hide from it. Then the familiar door opened and the cell attendant came out with the message that the Elder had given his blessing to let us into the first room to warm ourselves. And we were glad to feel ourselves again under our father’s roof. After some time, on behalf of Father, he brought us a whole plate of sweets and small books, which he distributed to us. We warmed up, dried out, the thunderstorm subsided - and the same cell attendant came to tell us that Father had now given his blessing to lock the door - and we went back to our hotels. And the next morning, after early mass, Mother Domna, a cowgirl nun who had been in the hut on business that morning, appeared in my room. With a mysterious look, she unwrapped the package in her hands and took out several butter crackers. It turns out that Father sent her these crackers through the cell attendant with a request “for God’s sake” to bypass his spiritual daughters and take this “consolation” to them. And how dear was this sign of the Elder’s attention to us, who did not forget us even in illness! Several more days passed, and the Elder came out for the first time, pale, weak, but bright. “I was dying and through someone’s prayers I was resurrected,” he said to one of the spiritual children, “I thought that I would never get up again.” When Fr. Theodosius offered me the schema - my heart skipped a beat: this is death - it means that the end is not today or tomorrow, and I will have to appear before the Throne of God. What will I come with? What will I answer? I looked back - there’s a gap here, there’s a mistake here, it’s not finished, it’s not done, just mistakes! Scary! Well, apparently, the Lord had mercy and left more time for repentance. It was terrible to listen to these speeches: if Father, looking back at his life, saw only mistakes and mistakes in it, then what will we see in our past, if only we get the proper visual acuity? I remember this summer because it was on this visit that my life decisively changed and the word “monastery” was said firmly and definitely for the first time. I wrote above that the Elder reassured me about the possibility of salvation in the world. I also mentioned his joke when he put his cap on me to see how I would look like a nun. But then we didn’t talk about the monastery. And in one of the letters, in response to my question about monasticism. Father wrote to me: “I did not send you either to the monastery or for the monastery, but live as you lived and try not to sin.” Meanwhile, when I came to Optina, I met with nuns and heard speeches by Fr. Barsanuphia came to them, listened to their conversations among themselves, and little by little began to look at monasticism with completely different eyes. It no longer seemed to me an unnecessary and outdated institution, and it often occurred to me that the life of a nun is much fuller and more meaningful than the busy fussiness of the world. And I decided to ask Father again - should I enter a monastery? This was a year and a half after my acquaintance with Optina began. And I received a very sharp answer: “And I forbid you not only to talk about the monastery, but even to think about it. Leave it alone. You are only annoying yourself with the monastery. Live as you lived and save your soul.” I did not dare to disobey the Elder and remained silent for a year and a half, but I could think about how to force myself not to think, when my thought more and more persistently returned to the forbidden subject. In addition, constantly, unnoticed by me, a wall grew between me and the world, separating me from it, and this alienation grew stronger. Father cut off worldly pleasures from my life one after another, prohibiting first one thing and then another. First, the theater, which I loved very much, then light literature, then worldly concerts (however, the Elder left serious classical music to me) were forbidden to me. The hardest thing was to part with theater and novels, and I did not obey immediately. In a moment of rebellion against the Elder, succumbing to the thought that spiritual life was beyond my strength, that I needed to live as everyone around me lived, I took a ticket and went to the theater or pulled out forbidden books hidden in the closet and read hundreds of pages in one gulp. But it’s strange: the theater, which previously gave me great pleasure, the book of a previously beloved writer, left behind in my head only some kind of fumes, a dope, through which remorse gradually broke through: the “novice” of the Elder, his spiritual daughter, and thus fulfills his commandments! I felt ashamed, my soul was burdened by the consciousness of my guilt - and as a result, a letter of repentance was written. I still have his answers, like this: “God will forgive; I am glad that the theater does not give you the same pleasure, I advise you to stop visiting it in the future.” But to my shame I must admit that I had to ask for forgiveness more than once. One day, angry with myself for my spinelessness, which prevented me from falling behind light reading, I asked Father for his blessing to transfer or donate somewhere my library, which consisted of Russian classic fiction writers. I explained this by saying that, standing on my shelves, these books are a constant temptation to me, and it would be easier for me to put them out of sight. Father looked at me so thoughtfully: “You will sacrifice, and then you will become bored. No, leave it, let it sit in the closet.” So these books remained with me and more than once were the reason for my disobedience. Finally, I got tired of this rushing from the world to Optina and back, I got used to living without forbidden pleasures. Then secular acquaintances began to disappear. The elder said: - Don’t be in this house anymore... Talk to those people less often and as quickly as possible, in short... Break up with these people completely, even if you meet them on the street, don’t bow. This too is done. And I found myself in the world, as if in a desert: no worldly joys, no communication with worldly people... And what kind of communication could there be with them when their joys were forbidden to me, and my activities were completely alien to them. The rosary, the Psalter, the Lives of the Saints - all these things were little used in the circle where I moved, and I had to, as Father once said, handing over the rosary: ​​“Carry them with you, but so that, God forbid, whoever does not see them,” - in a word, I had to hide my life in every possible way from others, living in the world, to live not in a worldly way. Every day it became more difficult, and such a divided life became unbearable. So, I couldn’t help but think about the monastery, but I didn’t dare say the word “monastery” just until the summer when Father was tonsured into the schema. I remember it, and life, this time, was somehow special. Usually, when I arrived in Optina, I fasted once, many times twice - Father did not allow me to partake often. I remember that once during a conversation he started talking about frequent communion and the fact that some, citing the example of Christians of the first centuries, still demand permission to receive communion, if not daily, then weekly: “They do not understand that those Christians were constantly preparing for death, often right from the Liturgy they were taken to prison, everyone expected that not today or tomorrow it would be his turn to suffer for his faith in Christ. Then they lived more soberly, then their life was, one might say, a continuous fast. It is not surprising, therefore, that they often partook of the Holy Mysteries. We don’t live like that, and we don’t have to be equal to them. Therefore, in our monastery the brethren are supposed to receive communion six times a year, once each Lent, and on Great Lent and Philippi - twice. Deviations from this rule are rarely allowed, and each time with the blessing of the elder and the abbot, so that sometimes the brethren are surprised: - Why is such and such a father approaching the Chalice? – And those who know what’s going on explain: “He had a terrible temptation, he saw demons in a sensual form and was very exhausted. So Father blessed him to get ready.” So, the Elder did not allow me frequent communion until the summer in question. But this time everything went somehow differently. I arrived a week before Petrovki, and Fr. Barsanuphius blessed me to prepare without waiting for the fast: “Otherwise there will be many confessors later, I won’t have time to bother with you then.” Lent has arrived, and Father says with concern as he comes out for the blessing: “The Feast of John the Baptist is coming soon, it would be good to prepare for this day.” Two days passed after June 24, and again: “Peter and Paul are coming soon, I should join in on this day,” so over the course of a month and a half I had to take communion four or five times. Who knows, maybe. Father saw that I was already very exhausted and exhausted in soul, and wanted the grace of the Lord to strengthen me - only I had been living in Optina for the second month, and the Elder kept postponing my departure from holiday to holiday and kept forcing me to prepare. And I especially remember the last confession of this summer. There were quite a lot of us confessors, and Father appointed all of us to come in the evening. When we gathered and he led us into his prayer room, there were so many of us that we could barely fit in the small room, and I found myself far away in the corner by the door. Father slowly put on his clothes, quietly repeating: “Blessed be God, and blessed be God again,” then he turned to one of those present, standing closer to the window, “did you notice this picture?” - and handed her some kind of canvas. “And look,” he invited the other. Then, looking around everyone, he called me from the corner. - Go look at the picture. A rather large canvas (the work of the late Father Daniil Bolotov) was a portrait of a nun, judging by her clothes, a novice lying in a coffin. - Father, she’s dead! – exclaimed one of those looking at it. – Who told you that she’s dead? How dead is she? – as if dissatisfied, the Elder objected. “But this is a coffin,” she insisted, continuing to peer. - What, what is a coffin? She is dead in body, but in soul... Look at her face: how peaceful and beautiful it is, you can immediately see that she is a celestial being. “If you join a monastery, you will be like this,” he added unexpectedly. His interlocutor hesitated somehow in confusion, and Father suddenly turned to me, although I was standing behind him: “What do you tell me about this?” Something trembled in my soul. Before, however, I talked about the monastery, but somehow not really, without checking myself, and for the last year and a half I was forbidden to even think about it - and suddenly now this unexpected question. I felt as if I had all sorted myself out internally; I somehow felt that a lot had to be decided in this minute. - Bless me, Father, I’ll go! – that’s all I could think of to say. -What are you saying? – the Elder asked as if in surprise. “If you bless me, I’ll go,” I repeated. - Well, are such important issues resolved so quickly? Do you know what the deacon says when he comes out with the Holy Gifts? “With the fear of God!” So it is about monasticism - you have to think with fear and trembling, but then suddenly... - Father, this is not sudden at all, because I’ve been thinking about this for a long time! - Well, no! We still need to get to know you better. How many years have you been coming here? Three years! So, the fourth time you think about it, the fifth time you travel, then things will be different, and, God willing, I will “make it,” the Elder finished and began confession. Thus began my conscious “severance” from the world, but I still had a lot to go through, and I brought a lot of things on myself with my impatience and inability to obey without hesitation the first word of the Elder. The fact is that from this summer troubles and misfortunes befell me, and I often remembered Father’s words that a person only thinks about moving away from the world, and Satan begins to take revenge on him for this intention, raising all sorts of temptations against him. The words of the Elder that in two years I would be in the monastery could not leave my head, and it was difficult to live in the world, internally already detached from it. In a word, I didn’t have enough patience, and less than a year had passed when, while in Optina on Easter, I started talking about monasticism again. “You will be in the monastery, just not now, but in a year, in two, in five,” Father stunned me. I made it until the summer, when I arrived in Optina at the same time as the nun I had previously met at the Elder’s. We lived in the same room, I complained that I would have to suffer in the world for a long time, and she explained that she knew for sure: if I had asked to join the monastery this year, their abbess would have accepted me. And, in her opinion, it is better not to waste time and ask now. I remember how then everything seemed to be at the same time, and the conversations, and the priest’s speeches, and the Gospel read in church - everything pushed me to think about the monastery. Finally, not daring to speak personally, I wrote to Fr. Barsanuphius received a letter, which she conveyed through the cell attendant. There, citing all my arguments in favor of my speedy entry into the monastery, I also mentioned the conversation of a nun I knew. Having given the letter, I settled down to wait at least until Christmas, not expecting that Father would get to him soon. But the next day, during the general blessing, Father turned to me: “I read your message, although not everything yet, but I understood the main thing: I understood the ultimatum you were giving me, but I need to read it together and add something personally.” Remembering the case when Father expressed his intention to “talk in person”, and then deliberately or out of oblivion left it unfulfilled, I thought that the same would happen with my letter. The nun also said: “It’s good for you, now Father will answer you, although not now, maybe in a week or even by Christmas, but you will know the final decision.” Father appeared again in the corridor where I was sitting, and said in passing: “Yes, we need to talk about your important issue in person!” - and left, and walking back a few minutes later, he somehow insistently repeated: “Listen, we need to talk about your serious letter today.” Immediately something suddenly fell within me, I was terribly frightened, as if something new and irrevocable was about to happen. It became so creepy that I couldn’t sit alone and called my friend. “It’s not for nothing that you were scared, it means that there will be some kind of decision soon,” she said. But everything inside me was trembling, and I was ready to run away without looking back, just to somehow delay the upcoming conversation. Like a person sentenced to death, who is already being led to execution and who keeps consoling himself that the end is not so soon, that there is still this street to go, another turn, three more lampposts... so I reassured myself: that’s how many confessors there were! Father always accepts new arrivals for confession earlier - it won’t come to me soon... Suddenly the Elder appeared at the door and, passing the confessors who were waiting for him, said loudly: “Where is Helen? Let’s go talk about your serious issue.” Neither alive nor dead, I entered the prayer room and knelt down. Father took my letter out of his pocket, preparing to read it, and suddenly asked me: “You’re wearing a honeycomb,” and he gave me a “Spiritual Honeycomb,” a piece of paper with instructions from Fr. Ambrose. But did I have time to read? I clutched the piece of paper in my fist, and the Elder began to read my message out loud and, reaching the place where I mentioned the nun’s words, he quickly said: - Call her here! - and before I had time to come to my senses and fully understand what was happening here, I heard the following conversation: “Mother Evdokia, our sister in the Lord, the maiden Elena, expresses a desire to enter a monastery, and I think that this desire is now quite mature. Did you say that our mother abbess would have taken her? - I told you, Father! We have... - Yes, now take it and go with her. Support her there at first. - When should we go, Father? - Yes, even today, well, or tomorrow. However, at the end of the conversation, departure was postponed for another five days. - Father, when they appoint you to dress her, dress her yourself! Things turned so unexpectedly quickly, as I had never even dreamed of, and questions immediately arose: what to do with my relatives, who all do not sympathize with monasticism and who will be terribly affected by my departure? Who will you visit in Moscow, which you will have to pass through? How can I stay here until I leave? With his answers, the Elder completely disconnected me from the world around me: to his spiritual children who know me and are here in Optina, I should not say anything about the monastery, and motivate my departure simply by the desire to go for a ride. Not to write a word to my family until my entry into the monastery is finally decided. Do not visit anyone in Moscow. I will never forget the feeling with which I left the prayer room. Joy that the tedious wait is over; the consciousness that your whole life is breaking down; fear of the waiting unknown; a feeling of dying for everything old came over me. I was not allowed to talk to anyone except the nun dedicated to my affairs. That day I was somehow nervous all the time, we talked for half the night, but by morning the mood changed: half asleep, my relatives began to imagine themselves, their grief about my decision, their grief, their hope. In the morning I was completely exhausted. Terrible thoughts surrounded me from all sides. Pity for my family, self-pity, horror of the poverty awaiting me and many other fears. And just like a chorus of voices shouting in your ears: “Come to your senses before it’s too late! What are you doing? What are you deciding on? And it so happened that all this happened on Tuesday, Father’s cherished day, on which he did not receive anyone - which means that for the whole day I was left to myself. I can’t remember this day without horror - they’re probably going crazy. The next day, Wednesday, going to the Elder, I almost decided to ask him for a reprieve, but at the blessing, without allowing me to say a word, he said: - Well, on Sunday for a new life? So! To a new life! – The question sounded so firmly, Father’s eyes looked so seriously that my cowardice subsided somewhere, and I answered: For the rest of the time before my departure, the Elder, constantly speaking to me in front of others, strengthened me with individual words, imperceptible and incomprehensible to others. My situation was strange. Many of Father’s spiritual children knew me, I met and talked with many, both in the hut and in the hotel, but I didn’t dare tell any of them where and why I was going. Meanwhile, life around went on as usual. People quarreled and made peace, made plans, grieved, rejoiced, but I felt that all this, all the everyday life in which I had previously so willingly participated, had moved away from me somewhere, everything had lost its interest in comparison with what was happening to me, and which no one around me knew. It was as if I had died, but people continued to live around me. And it was strange to me how people could be interested in the trifles of everyday life, when I was all in awe of the importance of what was happening to me. Finally the day of my departure arrived. I had to go to the Iversky Monastery alone; Father kept the nun at his place. On the day of departure, he spoke to me again: “Rely on the will of the Mother of God and prepare to accept everything with gratitude. Ask the Queen of Heaven to express Her will through the abbess. If mother accepts you, it means that this is the will of the Mother of God, and if she orders you to wait another year, then this is the will of the Mother of God.” The last time I received a blessing on the road from the Tikhvin Icon. I asked the Elder to pray for me. He suddenly turned to the icon and just crossed himself, holding me by the shoulder. But you should have seen how his eyes lit up at that moment, how impulsively he pressed his fingers to his forehead, making the Sign of the Cross. I even felt terrified: at that moment the Elder was completely in prayer. He crossed himself, crossed me, abruptly, as if breaking away, walked away and slammed the door to the men's quarters behind him. I left and set off on my way, completely shocked by the impression of this silent cry of the Elder for his weak child. So I left, and left on the mountain. All my friend’s calculations turned out to be wrong, I was not accepted into the monastery, and I spent about three weeks on this trip. What was especially difficult was that, guided by I don’t know what reasons, Mother Superior did not immediately and completely refuse me, but delayed my entry into the monastery for a year, offering to stay at the hotel, live and take a closer look at monastic life. For about a week, I must have remained in blissful ignorance: I was in church, at meals twice, in workshops, where I met several sisters - and I became more and more attached to the monastery and got used to the idea that this was the place where, with the blessing of the Elder, my future life would improve. A delay for a year - and that didn’t scare me so much. I thought that during this time I would have time to prepare my family for the thought of my departure, and it would not be as unexpected as it would have been this year. And suddenly, completely unexpectedly, from a conversation with one person close to the abbess, I learned that by an imaginary delay we must mean a final refusal. This was confirmed during my personal meeting with the abbess, and I again felt that the ground had gone from under my feet. Having lost almost a month of vacation time, having spent almost all the money prepared for summer vacation, with the prospect of a new working year ahead, completely morally broken, I, like a mouse in a trap, was ready to bang my head against the wall of my monastery room. Where was I supposed to go now? In such a state, to appear to a family who knew nothing about my adventures was unthinkable, and when I wrote to Father at that time, something like the following words came out from under my pen: “Father, do you feel what it was like for your daughter?” Having received the Elder’s blessing to return to him, I left Iverskoye and again came to the hut, but in what condition? Mentally breaking with my family and the world, I felt that I would live there as if I were dead among the living. An unsuccessful attempt to enter a monastery took away my hope that I would ever be able to forget that. The act of the abbess, as if she had deceived me, undermined faith in the human word in general. But the main thing is the failure of the enterprise with Father’s blessing, the refusal where the Elder was confident of a positive answer (although in fact, as I wrote above, this was not the case), they took away my faith in Father’s foresight. My last support was falling. The Elder greeted me with unusual cordiality. At the general blessing, as if deliberately bypassing me, he came up to me last; but I can’t even look at him: tears have flooded my whole face, I stand, not moving, so as not to cry loudly. And Father, blessing, asks: “All glory to God?” Well, what a “thank God” when I was completely exhausted from grief - and didn’t answer anything. Father continued: “Everything is before the eyes of God! The Lord saw everything past and present, and sees the future. Thank God for everything! Dry your tears. Your guardian angel will take these tears to the Throne of God. Now I’ll give you some candy.” One visiting lady asked for a blessing to treat us, several new arrivals, with the honey she had brought. “God bless. Where is L.? After you have tasted some bitterness, you must also taste some sweetness.” Later, having received me alone, the Elder remembered my letters: “Well, so is your letter! Have you read “Taras Bulba” by Gogol? There, when Ostap was being led to execution, he shouted into the crowd: “Father, do you hear?” - and the father responded to him: “I hear, son, I hear!” So do you: “Father, do you hear?” - “I hear everything!” After listening to my story about my adventures, Father said: “Mother says that the hour of God’s will has not yet come for you to enter a monastery, that you must wait and rejoice. - Well, there’s no joy in me at all. Father! - How can you not be happy? Isn’t it a joy when they tell you that in a year you will be in a monastery and that this is the will of God, the will for us is always good and perfect! And the Elder told me how he himself patiently waited for the two-year period assigned to him by Father Ambrose to prepare for the monastery to pass. “When I told about this postponement to one abbot I respected, he confused me: “What is he, a saint or something? So, can he guarantee that in these two years you will not die and he will live?” He confused me, but I had unlimited faith in Father Ambrose and therefore I just waved it off: “I don’t know!” This story reminded me of the temptation that had come over me, and I complained that lately I could not hear the funeral service, that the fear of death was attacking me. “It’s an amazing thing—until I was getting ready to go to the monastery, I wasn’t afraid of death, but as soon as I got ready to go to the monastery, the fear of death came,” the Elder laughed. - Yes, I don’t want to die in the world. - You won't die! And I wouldn’t want you to die before the monastery. No, you won't die! You still need to wash yourself in the bathhouse and whiten yourself before they call you to a final answer. No, you will still be in the monastery! Then Father taught me how to stay at home, with those around me, so as not to expose my desire to leave the world to ridicule. He forbade me to tell anyone at home about my intention, but not to deny it outright, but to get off with a half-question: “Who told you that? You never know what they say? – So Father Ambrose told me to do, and the grace of God covered me, and no one knew about my departure from the world until I left Kazan. But to directly deny or refuse - God forbid. This ended our conversation, and on the same day, pointing to one of my spiritual daughters, the Elder said: “Now she has become completely Optina. Well, what kind of it will be – Iveron or another – that’s God willing!” Father blessed me to speak, and despite his affectionate welcome, I was all bent under some kind of weight, something dark was oppressing my soul. On the eve of communion, completely exhausted by the struggle with this inner darkness, I asked Father to anoint me with blessed oil, as he often did. Besides me, there were several other people in the prayer room, so it was inconvenient to talk about my state of mind, but, nevertheless, taking advantage of the moment when Father anointed me, I quietly asked him to pray that this darkness, which had completely filled me in recent days, would move away from me. Father, looking deeply, deeply into my eyes, said three times in sympathy: “Lord, have mercy! Lord, have mercy! Lord, have mercy!” - quietly, just for me. Then he began to say: “May the Lord strengthen you. May the Lord make you glad...”, took out a large book (breviary or Psalter - I don’t know), took out from it a cap from the relics of St. Mitrophan of Voronezh, as I was later told, put it on me and began to read over me a touching prayer, read over the sick before communion at home. Having finished, he blessed me repeatedly, asked me for a handkerchief and, like a child, wiped his entire face dry until there was no trace of tears left. Then he sent me off to Vespers. The dark power somehow subsided, and I calmed down and became quiet. Now, remembering that time, you can’t help but be amazed at how the Elder, surrounded by a crowd of people, overwhelmed with letters and matters related to the management of the Skete, got the time and energy to bother with us, as he did with me that time: only the most tender mother can care for a sick child. Understanding very well that the failure to enter the monastery was my main soreness, Father constantly reminded me of monasticism and expressed confidence that sooner or later this intention of mine would come true. Either he will give a piece of paper with an admonition “not to seek the monastic image, but not to shirk from it,” then, together with another spiritual daughter, a nun, he will bless with rosaries, then, looking at her and me, he will quietly say, pointing at her: - Real, real... And he pointed at me: “Future.” Then we realized that we were talking about a monastic robe, for her the present, for me the future. Once I found the Elder blessing the people and giving everyone paper icons. Handing one girl an image of the holy Queen Alexandra, he asked what her name was. “You see, I didn’t know that your name was Alexandra, but you got your Angel.” What does it mean? The fact that the holy Queen Alexandra loves you, and you must love her, live well, obey your mother. The same thing happened with one Anna, who received an icon of the holy prophetess Anna. “Do you notice,” Father asked me, “how the saints themselves go to those who bear their name?” Apparently they love them. And your saint loves you, so she puts you on a narrow and thorny path - and you will walk along it, God willing. In the evening of the same day, the Elder left me in the corridor, and he went to the men’s quarters. At this time, one of his spiritual daughters, a noblewoman, no longer young, arrived from Shamordin, who, with his blessing, went there with the goal of becoming one of the sisters. She arrived joyful and excited and told us that she was already a novice, accepted “without a hitch” and released to pack her things and finish things off in the world. This lady joyfully and animatedly talked about her journey, and I was overcome with melancholy and envy: here are people entering the monastery “without a hitch,” and I... At that time, Fr. Barsanuphius called out to me. When I approached him, he crossed me, turned me to the image of the Queen of Heaven and said: – Everything is full of peace and joy around You... what next? - And over you! – I finished. “Well, that’s it,” and he left to confess to the nuns. It was amazing how my dear Father felt in spirit how far peace and joy were from me at that moment, and he wanted to cheer me up. Among the confessors were two novices of some monastery, from which one ran away, and the other was about to run away. The elder spoke to them for a long time during the blessing and turned to the runaway woman with the words: “There is an old song - “Oh, you poor branch, where are you sailing? Be careful, you unfortunate thing, you will end up in the sea! There you won’t be able to cope with the stormy wave...” And he expressed the idea that a laywoman in the world could still be saved, but the enemy would attack a nun who went out into the world with bitterness and would directly tear her to pieces. I had to talk a lot with these girls, and a new confusion arose in me, what if life in the monastery is as unbearable as they say? What if I can't stand it? And thought began to work again, and the peace of mind disappeared again. At this time Fr. Barsanuphius took me alone and began to say: “Here again you will return to the world, to this agitated sea. I wanted to take you from there, but apparently God doesn’t want it yet. Don’t be discouraged, everything is good with Christ. And everything will be there, thank God, and someday you will enter a monastery!” I asked him if, in his opinion, I was fit for the monastery? The elder laughed: “To ask like that is the same as asking: am I fit for the Kingdom of Heaven? We ourselves are no good, but with the Lord Jesus Christ, with His help, we become good. However, now you don’t want to go to the monastery or for the monastery, but work as you worked, and wait for the Lord to call you! And He will call, I believe that you will be in the monastery!” He asked if I needed money, if I had spent enough, and promised to prepare it for me on the road: “You’ll give it back later.” As he saw me off, he again spoke about his love for us: “And when you come as a nun, then I will love you even more.” Blessing, he bent down and spoke into my ear the program of life: “The heart is pure to create, do not look at men and do not condemn anyone. Just? It's clear?" I stayed like this for more than a month under the wing of the Elder, until I became so strong that I could not give myself away when I returned to my family, and was able to take up my studies. This summer and the ordeals that befell me then will forever remain in my memory, and also because it was my last summer in Optina under Father. Now, looking back, I cannot help but admit that, strictly speaking, I myself was to blame for many of my troubles. Exactly a year before, as I wrote above, Fr. Barsanuphius clearly and definitely set a deadline for me to enter the monastery: “You’ll train for the fourth year and train for the fifth, then things will be different.” But I, having waited for the fourth! year, lost patience, wanted to turn things around faster - and paid for it. And then I only remembered the instruction I heard from someone that when turning to the Elder for advice, one must treat his first word with faith, without entering into an argument with him or trying to change his decision, since with arguments and human considerations one can lead him astray, and his second word may be erroneous - which is what I experienced on myself. Guilty all around, I was almost angry with the Elder for sending me to the monastery to suffer torment. I was never able to speed up God’s destiny, and at the end of August I returned to my family, to my place of service. And my last year in the world began - the fifth year of my acquaintance with the Elder began. When I returned to my city, ordinary worldly life turned out to have an elegant side to me: my family greeted me kindly, my usual work, and moments of relaxation somewhere at a lecture or reading an interesting book - everything seemed all the more attractive the more vividly I remembered that I had almost left all this. And then the old doubts about the Elder’s foresight, about the truth of the path he had outlined for me, the tempting thought: “Wait, have pity on yourself, have pity on your family,” and so on. All this overwhelmed me. Without horror, I could not remember that this summer I had almost taken an irrevocable step, and I trembled, lest the Elder would plan to send me somewhere again. Fears began to set in: how will I receive a letter with a new order today? Well, how will a new withdrawal begin? and I felt terrible, terrible at this thought. It got to the point that the former joy from every news from Optina, every line from Father turned into fear, and I sighed with relief when the postman passed by our house without visiting us. No letters, thank God! And then it occurred to me how to change the address in order to completely disappear from Father. I came to the point that I was ready to even flee to America for fear of the future. But you can’t get to America with ten rubles, and all my travels remained only in my imagination. Soon everything took a new turn: troubles and misfortunes began again from all sides. The alluring mask fell off the world and its temptations, and the severity of the summer adversity passed, and I again felt ashamed of my cowardice. Christmas has come, my last Christmas in the world and with Father in Optina. Despite the fact that I repented of my sins to the Elder in writing, he greeted me with fatherly affection. But when I told him that I was ready to go to America to escape from him, he grinned: - To America? Who would you run to? To the Iroquois, perhaps? Or to Lake Tana? - And then he said, half jokingly: - Well, how can you frighten a person like that, say such terrible things - you see, she’s going to America! Yes, when I heard it, my hair stood on end! And a few days later, going out for a blessing, he called the high school girl and me and gave us each a postcard. Hers is a postcard with a Christmas theme, and mine is a copy of Kaulbach’s painting “Renunced.” She portrayed a very young nun, a Catholic in costume, thoughtfully watching two butterflies playing in a ray of sunlight. – Do you like this picture? – I really like it, Father! “I knew you’d like it, so I decided to give it to you.” Only here the nun seems to be non-Orthodox. - Yes, Father, this is a Catholic. – Catholic... Are you Orthodox? - and to my affirmative answer he added: - Well, thank God! Take this picture for yourself, read the caption on it! - That’s how it is, I know, the internal renunciation has already been accomplished, and the external, God willing, will be accomplished! And it was said so firmly that this picture served me as an anchor of salvation for a long time. It was a hard Christmas and probably many people remember it. I do not undertake to describe the events that took place then, leaving this to be done by more knowledgeable persons, but I cannot help but note that the arrival of His Eminence Seraphim, the rising rumors, the passions and anger that arose made Optina far from being like Paradise, where I was accustomed to rest from worldly anger 510. Some rumors reached us more heavily than others... “Father will be sent to the command,” they said today. “Father is going into seclusion,” they reported tomorrow. “Father is being made an archimandrite somewhere in another monastery,” new news appeared. And the last one was no less frightening than the previous ones. To appoint the seventy-year-old Elder, who was already apparently weakening every year, as archimandrite, to place on him the burden of independent governance, to tear him away from the Skete, where he laid the foundation, it was felt that this would be tantamount to death for him. During these difficult days, the Elder reassured us and encouraged us: “There is nothing to be afraid or worry about, thank God, everything is fine. Don’t be embarrassed - Vladyka is good, he should have been stricter, but he is good, gracious,” Father told us when we came to him, excited by the harsh speeches of the Right Reverend. - Be sure to accept the saint’s blessing from him. The saint’s blessing means a lot!..” The Lord has left. Christmas time has passed. Saying goodbye to Fr. Barsanuphius, before leaving, I, as usual, asked for blessings to come for Passion and Easter, and beyond all expectations I received a refusal: “You’ll come in the summer, otherwise why on earth would you go for just three days?” - Yes, not for three days, but for two weeks. Father! - I tried to protest, - after all, I used to fast with you on Strastnaya, here! - Well, that was before, but now you can’t come, and I won’t have time for Strastnaya: there will be such boiling water here - it’s a disaster! No, you'll come in the summer! With that, Father let me go, but, to tell the truth, I didn’t believe that this would happen. I thought: the Elder is frightening, but Passionate approaches - I will receive a blessing to come and celebrate Easter in Optina. But it turned out not to be so. During Great Lent, I received the news that Father was being transferred as an archimandrite to the Golutvin Monastery. Archpriest Vasily Vasilyevich Shustin (1886–1968), Orthodox missionary, spiritual writer. He was born into a pious family and was preparing to become an engineer, but failed to graduate from the institute (St. Petersburg Electrotechnical Institute). During his student years he was spiritually nourished by Fr. John of Kronstadt and among the Optina elders (V. Shustin was the spiritual son of Elder Barsanuphius). During the First World War he fought in combat positions, during the civil war he fought in the ranks of the Volunteer Army. He emigrated first to Bulgaria, then to Serbia. Living in the Serbian city of Belaya Tserkov, he taught physics in the Cadet Corps. Together with other Russian refugees, he put a lot of effort into the construction of an Orthodox church, where he was ordained a priest. Here, in Bila Tserkva, in 1929, with the help of Hieromonk John (Shakhovsky), the memoirs of Fr. Vasily Shustin “Record about Fr. John of Kronstadt and the Optina Elders." Later, the text of the memoirs was supplemented and expanded by the author and provided to Ivan Mikhailovich Kontsevich, who worked on the book “Optina Pustyn and Its Time” in the 1950s–1960s. The last thirty years of Fr. Vasily Shustin spent time in northern Africa, in Algeria, heading the Russian parish there. (In the same place, in Algeria, in 1935, Fr. Vasily married I.M. Kontsevich and Elena Yuryevna Karpova.) Fr. Vasily in Cannes on August 6, 1968. (Currently his ashes rest in Nice.) Memories of Vasily Shustin are presented in the form in which they were preserved in the private archive of I.M. and S.Yu. Kontsevichi. Although there are some inaccuracies in these memoirs (see the notes about them), they still retain for us the value of the living word of a contemporary of the great Elder, an eyewitness to the events of the last years of his life. There is no such information in the Elder’s biography. According to other sources, this episode is attributed to a visit to Fr. Barsanuphius (then P.I. Plikhankov) of St. Andrew's Cathedral in Kronstadt. See conversations of December 27, 1909, October 22, 1911 and March 26, 1912. There is probably an inaccuracy here. P.I. Plikhankov arrived in Optina Pustyn on December 21, 1891, on the Nativity of Christ, and Elder Ambrose passed on to the Lord on October 10. The main church of the monastery is the cathedral in honor of the Entry into the Church of the Blessed Virgin Mary. The burials of the elders are located behind the altar of his chapel in honor of St. Nicholas the Wonderworker. Venerable Elder of Optina, Hieroschemamonk Anatoly (Potapov: 1855–1922). In Optina Pustyn since 1885, he served as cell attendant, Rev. Ambrose, then – Rev. Joseph: already at that time many turned to him for advice. From the beginning of the 1900s he began to serve as an elder, caring mainly for the people. He had an unusually kind and merciful heart; they called him “the comforter.” Canonized as a locally revered saint in 1996, all-Russian in 2000. About him, see: Life of the Optina Elder Anatoly (Potapov). Ed. Vvedenskaya Optina Pustyn, 1995. This skete legend has not been interpreted to this day. Venerable Elder of Optina, Hieroschemamonk Nektariy (Tikhonov; 1853–1928). In Optina Pustyn since 1873, he lived for 25 years in a cell at the skete church, in semi-seclusion, engaged in prayer, reading spiritual books, scientific and fiction literature. In 1912 he was elected Elder. After the closure of Optina he lived in the village. Hills of the Bryansk region, where he died. Canonized as a locally revered saint in 1996, all-Russian in 2000. About him, see: Life of the Optina Elder Nektarios. Ed. Vvedenskaya Optina Pustyn. 1996. In fact, the funeral service for Elder Barsanuphius was conducted by Metropolitan Tryphon (Turkestan). One of the main rebels against Archimandrite Xenophon. Both monks, Patrick and George, have nothing in common with the Optina spirit; they are unpeaceful, cunning and carnal people. – Note by S.A. Nilus. At the beginning of printing my notes, I designated his name with the letter V. He was still alive then, our beloved Elder, and it is impossible for us, Christians, to speak about living ascetics of piety except in secret. – Note by S.A. Nilus. Archbishop of Novgorod Gury. Vapes - paints (church glory). Father Barsanuphius was then returning to Optin from the Manchurian army, where he was sent as a clergyman to one of the units. See also the note to the conversation of December 27, 1909. Tikhonova Hermitage (30 km from Kaluga) was founded in the 15th century. Rev. Tikhon of Kaluga (his relics remain there to this day); was famous for its strict regulations. She was visited by St. Venerable Martyr Grand Duchess Elisaveta Feodorovna. The monastery is famous for its miraculous spring, similar to that of St. Seraphim of Sarov. (Now being reborn.) “Khibarki” were actually the names given to the extensions to the elders’ cells outside the Skete. Here the elders received female persons who were forbidden to enter the Skete. Kartsova is the sister of E.Yu. Kontsevich), author of the famous book “Orthodox Women’s Monasticism.” Sermon of Archbishop Theophan of Poltava // Orthodox Rus'. Holy Trinity Monastery: Jordanville, 1952. Petersburg (name “Petrograd” - since 1914). This instructive story is told in more detail and in greater detail in the spiritual essay by Sergei Fomin under the lengthy title: “About the great sinner Pavel Ilyinov, novice of the Valaam Monastery, Knight of St. George, red commander and St. Petersburg janitor, miraculously healed through the prayers of Father John of Kronstadt and Elder Barsanuphius of Optina.” M.: Pilgrim, 2001. Rev. Barnabas of Gethsemane. See note 5. Optina Elder Rev. Anatoly (Potapov), who at that time was the confessor of the pilgrims; his cell was located at the hospital Vladimir Church. Metropolitan Tryfon (in the world Prince Boris Petrovich Turkestanov; 1861–1934) in 1887, after university, entered as a novice in Optina with the Venerable. Ambrose. In 1890 he became a hieromonk, and in 1901 - a bishop. See also note 249. Apparently, this refers to the community (future monastery) “Consolation and Consolation” in the Kaluga province, Ferzikovsky district, on the Dugna River - 105–110 versts from Optina Pustyn. The monastery was founded at the beginning of the 20th century. Sofia Evgenievna Grineva (future schema-abbess), spiritual daughter of Rev. Barsanuphia, who visited Optina Pustyn since her adolescence. Kazan-Golovinsky Monastery (9 versts from Moscow, 2 versts from Khovrino), founded in 1876 by Moscow merchant Nikita Ignatievich Sidorov near the village of Golovin, hence the name of the monastery. Borisoglebskaya Anosina hermitage in the Moscow region, in Zvenigorod district, founded in 1820 by Princess S.I. Meshcherskaya (Abbess Evgeniya). Based on the height of its spiritual life, the monastery was called “women’s Optina.” (Now being reborn.) Blessed Monica is the mother of Blessed Augustine, Bishop of Hippo († 430; commemorated June 15), author of the Confessions. F.M. Dostoevsky talked with Elder Ambrose in the house to the right of the monastery’s Holy Gate. On this see also: Kontsevich I. M. “Optina Pustyn and its time.” Chapter “Autumn. Optina Troubles and the Death of the Elder.”