Воздействие о. Иоанна на душу людей. Борьба с пьянством

BEING gifted through the sacrament of the priesthood with great grace-filled power, Fr. John performed numerous miracles not only in the area of ​​the body, but also in the area of ​​the spirit. The charming and beneficial influence of the good shepherd is noticeable even among ordinary people. Many, many intelligent people have changed under the influence of Fr. John. Hundreds and thousands of educated people report with delight their impressions and conversations with Fr. Sergiev. One of the most serious ailments of the Russian people (not excluding the intelligentsia) is drunkenness. O. John - friend of sobriety From the first days of his pastorate, Fr. John tirelessly fights the disease of drunkenness. Father! - said Fr. Ioannou one writer - I have always, and now especially persistently, advocate against drunkenness and people getting drunk with vodka. But there are people who are indignant at this, they say that I am biased, that I am exaggerating, that drunkenness... The shepherd’s eyes sparkled, he took him by the hand and said with inspiration: - Write, my dear, write! Write more, write more! Don't listen to anyone, don't look at anyone! I bless you for this! You will receive merit from the Lord the more you write! There is no evil so great and disastrous, there is no enemy as powerful as public drunkenness. Your editor is doing well for rebelling against this enemy of the Church, morality, family and people, young and old. Oh, you know, I saw a kind, good family man who got drunk and rushed at his wife with a knife, almost stabbed her, and the wife is so meek and kind. Only wine, one wine turned this family man into a beast! And how many similar examples! Drunkenness is not only obscenity, it gives rise to a host of other vices and crimes; it corrupts entire villages, villages, cities! An idiot child ends up with a father who drinks heavily. The chronically ill child, it turns out, was killed by a drunken nanny. The young drunkard turns out to be the son of a drunkard father who brutally beat his children when he was drunk... A consumptive mother, a victim of her husband’s drunken orgies. The relaxed “25-year-old man” is the hero of reckless revelry. A “beggar-millionaire” is often a former spendthrift and debauchee who has squandered his inheritance with debauchery. Who is not struggling with this disease now? And the government, and the zemstvo, and private people. Various hospitals are being set up... In his sermons, Fr. John writes against drunkenness with extraordinary energy even for him. No one has ever been born a drunkard, but has become one in life,” Fr. writes in one place. John. – Of course, often hereditary predisposition plays a role here, but the root and cause of evil lies within, in ourselves. If the power of faith is powerful enough to raise us from our deathbed, then it is powerful enough to force us to drink in moderation, that is, to stop at that glass after which we cease to bear the image and likeness of God and approach the animal... And one more thing: we must not fear, but despise the enemy. A bad warrior who is afraid of meeting the enemy. If you run from vodka as from your powerful seducer, then sooner or later you will fall into his clutches... On the occasion of the fire that destroyed the ninth part of Kronstadt, Fr. John said: “What has brought this calamity upon us? Our sins and iniquities. For, no matter what Sunday or holiday, in our city there is drunkenness, debauchery, foul language, disorderly fights, shouting, robberies, true Sodom and Gomorrah. But, after the crazy fun, many were met with great grief when they saw their property in flames. Many honest people also suffered for the sins of the wicked. So the righteous Lord instantly sends a fiery flame to us... And we all do not come to our senses. We all continue to ignite souls with the hellish flames of passion. We all continue, with extreme carelessness, to play with fire, these smoking tubes made of paper and stupefying plants, and walk with them very seriously through the streets, alleys, attics and basements... Is fire really a toy? By the way: there are already few places left untouched by fire. By the way: if all the drinking houses and tavern establishments in our cities on Sundays and holidays are open from morning to evening, and the Russian people will blasphemely drink and get drunk, smoke and get high on holy days designated by God, then it is no wonder that in some century the Russians themselves will burn out their cities. And how many of them have already burned out?”... About the power of influence of Fr. John's attitude towards drunkards is best expressed by the following incidents. Timber exchange clerk A.V., drinking heavily, was walking along the Obvodny Canal somewhere near the Warsaw Station. He sees people around one house. What is this? - Father John. Only the gates are locked and they won’t let you in. “I,” says the clerk, “was completely drunk, but I wanted to see the priest. I'm knocking on the gate. “Vasily,” I shout, open it.” I shout, either at random or something else, but I see they open it. They let me into the yard. I see the priest going to the carriage. I stood by the carriage, opened the door for him, and tried to stand up straighter myself. He got into the carriage and looked. And I ask myself... Father, don’t say out loud what a drunkard I am... Don’t embarrass me... And I’m trembling all over... Then I looked into his eyes, and his eyes were looking at me, not just angry, but endlessly deep, the further you looked, the deeper, and they burned with such fire that I felt terrified. I grabbed my head, not wearing a hat, they say, I: it became so scary. Father was angry, obviously. Then, apparently, he had mercy. - “Why are you drinking, my dear?” Here, look,” says Mr. Zhivotov, the author of the book “Drunkards at Fr. John,” one of the members of the Andreevsky guardianship, - at this ragamuffin in rags, with a wasted, exhausted, swollen and painfully pale face. Only 8 years ago he was a merchant of the first guild, had houses, horses, and a luxurious apartment. Can you believe this? - But what happened to him? - Nothing more than drunk. I got drunk thanks to the situation I found myself in. There's nothing you can do about it. – Now he came to Father John. Father takes part in it, prays with him; Apparently he is feeling better now. This is his second week without drinking and he has regained consciousness. But what was he doing?! – Tell me more about his past and introduce me to him. We approached the ragamuffin. He looked at me in fear and immediately somehow shrank and retreated into himself; Apparently, he felt very awkward and embarrassed. - Do you know me? – he asked, looking down. - No, I’m seeing it for the first time. And what? – I don’t want to meet those who knew me before, before when I... “Ivan Petrovich B-v,” my interlocutor introduced me to the ragamuffin. “What kind of “Ivan Petrovich” is he, just a rogue B-v, he whispered. “You are not the first and you are not the last,” the member of the guardianship told him; - you are happier than others who have not left their terrible path. And you are now on the road to a holy future. We went into a separate room in the “House of Father John” and ordered tea to be served. “Tell us your past,” I turned to B-v: “it’s edifying to listen to those who have just embarked on your path.” - Okay... I don’t have a secret. Listen. “I received a house and fifteen hundred thousand in capital from my father. In addition, they gave me three hundred thousand for my wife. It seems that the fortune is large, and with such funds I could not only live my life comfortably and provide for my family, but also benefit the fatherland as a citizen, entrepreneur, industrialist, manufacturer, capitalist... After all, I am an educated person, I was in the service. B–v thought about it. Large folds formed on his forehead, and tears appeared in his eyes. - Damn all these liqueurs, rederers and clicquots! Oh oh! With what joy would I now agree to draw out all my veins, give up all my blood drop by drop, sacrifice my life, just to return this past, to return not so much money as my soaked conscience, honor, morality, strength, vigor of body and spirit! Now! Why now?! Because here in Kronstadt, in this modest, quiet monastery of the Kronstadt shepherd, my spiritual eyes were opened. B-v clenched his teeth, and his face reflected unbearable torment, that mental pain in comparison with which physical suffering seems trivial. - So I’ll tell you... Donon, Contan, Pivato and “Bear” are witnesses that I paid 3 rubles. per piece of cigars and 2.5 rubles. for a glass of old wine. They are witnesses that I gave, sometimes for several days in a row, 400–600 rubles for lunch or dinner “for two.” But this is not enough; I rewarded my companions so drunkenly that I had to pay with bills, although I never kept less than 2-3 thousand in my pocket. One restaurateur will tell you how for six days in a row I did not leave his apartment, of course, in the company of nice company. What about my three trips abroad? It's better not to tell details! When my cash ran out and I had to pay bills, I mortgaged the house, but did not reduce expenses at all. It seemed to me that there was no other way to live! All this is impossible, and I mortgaged the house with a second mortgage, began mortgaging papers and diamonds. This lasted for about a year, until the creditors came at once, sold the apartment and things, and my wife, children and I moved into a furnished room. No funds, no hope ahead! I immediately switched to fusel milk, began to drink voraciously, and from step to step I reached the lodging house; my wife goes to do laundry every day. B-v began to sob and leaned back in his chair. - God, God, what a disgusting, vulgar way of living, but my tavern life is even nastier and meaner. And this “deceased” Fr. John saved by the power of his prayer and the power of pastoral influence. The rescue happened like this. Father John noticed B-va in the crowd at the “House of Industriousness” and himself ordered him to approach. It is difficult, almost impossible to convey the impression that the Kronstadt shepherd made on him, and the feelings that he experienced at this significant moment. Even at the entrance to St. Andrew's Cathedral, B-v heard a clear, ringing voice reading the clock. This voice penetrated into my very soul and acted like a healing balm on a wound. Each word echoed in his brain, and B-v repeated it mentally, feeling that this voice, these words were producing an internal revolution in him. Like wax near the fire, sorrows and anger melted away. The gloomy mood was replaced by some kind of quiet, joyful state. He gradually forgot everything present and was carried away somewhere far, far away, into a good, unknown world. There was no need to ask whose voice it was. I read about. John. B-v did not take his eyes off the royal gates. He couldn't pray. After all, he had not been in the church of God for exactly twenty-three years, and for 23 years his lips had not uttered a prayer! B-v was never an atheist and even less an enemy of religion, but simply treated faith completely indifferently, and he did not have to think about the church, prayer, God, the Savior. All this did not come to mind, there was no time to concentrate, and there was no desire to ask religious questions. He lived like thousands of others live. And at that moment something unprecedented was happening in his soul. He felt an unfamiliar attraction to something unearthly. The soul was torn into some indefinite space, where there is nothing perishable, everyday, ordinary. Before our eyes were drawn the images that we were taught in childhood, but which had long been shrouded in fog: the image of the crucified Savior, the meek face of the Mother of God, a legion of angels singing hymns of praise. Oh, how good my soul felt at that moment! He trembled all over from an excess of new sweet feelings and fell to his knees, transporting his thoughts to heaven, to the throne of the King of kings, the Lord of lords. The liturgy began. Again the familiar distinct voice. But B-v did not get up from his knees and did not want to take his thoughts away from the sky. Never in his life, in the best years of his revelry, had he felt so light, joyful, good... He did not dare to turn to God in prayer, considering himself unworthy to enter into a conversation with the Heavenly Father. But I never wanted to return to earthly things. He was sorry to lose this mental contemplation of heavenly greatness. He remained a mute witness at the foot of the heavenly throne. The liturgy ended, the people became agitated, everyone moved to St. communion. He had to get up too. Then he saw a priest with a cup - a very ordinary priest, thin, short in stature, with a beard and blue, gentle eyes. Could he doubt that it was him? Yes, out of a thousand priests, he would recognize him by those eyes and that facial expression! The image of the priest and his gaze fixed on him were so vivid in his brain, as if in reality... “Go to the House of Diligence,” this image told him... Where? What is the “House of Industriousness”? He stopped on the street, began to look around and saw a large sign: “The House of Father John”... People crowded there... B-v also ran... They were let into the common hall, where there were already about 200 pilgrims... B-v pressed himself in the very back near the wall... Half an hour passed... The general movement and excitement of heads announced the arrival of Father John... A familiar voice was heard behind the bars enclosing the icons and devices for water blessing. B-v did not dare to go to St. cross. It seemed to him that Fr. John will drive you away, scream, and anathematize you. He huddled more and more against the wall, hiding behind the backs of others. And suddenly again the same gaze, piercing to the depths of the soul. Again he’s definitely beckoning, calling. This time he didn't think so. He saw that the crowd parted to give him way, and his neighbors grabbed his hands: “Why aren’t you coming, Father is calling you, come quickly.” All the blood rushed to his head. He seemed to be on fire, stopped seeing and hearing, and woke up only when he felt Father John’s hand on his shoulder and heard his quiet voice: - You came to me. Well done; let's pray together. You are very unhappy, but the ways of the Lord are inscrutable... We do not know which way He will lead us to Himself. But you go to Him, and this is great happiness for you. Just don’t go astray from your path. May the Lord strengthen you... How long have you stopped drinking?.. – Have you stopped drinking? – he asked again. - But how do you, father, know that I drank and stopped drinking? “It’s not difficult, my son,” answered the priest, “to recognize the unfortunate drunkard in you.” You are not an evil person, the Christian in you has not died, but the enemy defeated you, took you into his hands and this is where he brought you. But it could have been worse. The enemy could destroy your soul. You could die in sin, without repentance. Thank the Lord for His mercy and ask for His help in the fight against the enemy! Father John took him aside to St. icons, and B-v knelt down. For the first time in 23 years, B-v raised his eyes to heaven, and his lips whispered the words of prayer. Oh, what a fortune he had! He was trembling with some kind of joyful excitement. My soul felt as light as it had never been before. Tears were rolling down my face. At that moment he made peace with everyone in the world, with all his enemies and enemies. He wanted to hug them all, so that they would all feel as good as he did at that moment. - Good Lover of Humanity! Who made the creation with one word and created man from it, visit this fallen servant with Your ineffable love for mankind, so that the work of Your hand will not perish completely... Lord! Your name is Love: do not reject me, a misguided person. Your name is Strength: strengthen me, who is exhausted and falling. Your name is Light: enlighten my soul, darkened by worldly passions. Your name is Peace: pacify my restless soul. Your name is Mercy: do not cease to have mercy on me. With every word of the prayer, tears of tenderness, repentance and joy choked the poor drunkard more and more, until he finally burst into tears. He had a hysterical fit. When he came to his senses, Fr. John was no longer there. The room was empty, only a member of X's guardianship remained near him at the request of the priest, who had to go. – Father said that one of these days you should come to confession and receive Holy Communion. He has secrets. If you don’t have money, the priest left you 10 rubles,” said Mr. X-V. These ten rubles were very dear to B-va, because he and his family had already been starving for several days. My wife got 50 kopecks from somewhere. him on the way to Kronstadt, and she herself was probably left with her children penniless. Happy, joyful B-v returned home. His family had not seen him like this for a long time. Now they moved into a bright room, bought food and boots for the children. At the housewarming party, everyone prayed together. Previously, it was not customary for them to read prayers; recently they did not even have an icon. The children did not know “Our Father.” Now we decided to pray together every morning and evening. This day passed quietly, peacefully and happily. The next morning, B-v went to Nikolskaya Square and hired himself as a day laborer to roll firewood. This was the first money (1 ruble 10 kopecks) that he earned through his labor. Until now, he only lived, spent and wasted. He didn’t even make money, didn’t want to make any kind of profit, having significant funds at his disposal, and, to tell the truth, he wouldn’t have been able to make money; after all, he knew absolutely nothing, couldn’t do anything, and didn’t learn anything. Now he truly earned money, pushing loaded wheelbarrows from 7 o'clock. morning until 9 pm. And strange! He did not feel any heaviness, did not feel tired, and was eager to work, as if he wanted to make up for what had been lost, lived, passed, and drown out his conscience. Simple physical work was even more pleasant for him because he could mentally concentrate on his new impressions and be transported far, far into the blue sky, where the throne of the Almighty, the kingdom of peace and goodness, appeared before his eyes. Oh, how good it is to live with your soul, as much as possible there, there! How empty and insignificant all our “angers” seem when you transfer your thought from heaven to earth! There is eternity, glory, peace, service to the throne of the Creator, but here today the bread is poorly baked, the vodka is diluted with water, or the glass is a penny more expensive, etc. And because of this, people are ready to raise a scandal, make noise, fight, sue... What about spiritual joy? Can it compare with earthly joy? He had a permanent box at the theater, was familiar with many “stars” of ballet and operetta, drank the best overseas wines like water, and as a result, he yawned, suffered from headaches, was bored and often regretted the time and effort spent. Any pleasure was expensive and desirable until it was impossible to get it, and as soon as it was received, I felt emptiness and boredom. Is this real joy, pleasure? And now, when he prayed, and when his whole soul trembled, all the fibers of his body went numb in a quiet, gentle peace, when his heart was filled with an enthusiastic impulse - he was truly happy, happy in a way that he had not even had an idea or concept of before. And this happiness did not depend on anyone, no one could steal it, it was always with him, with him and in him. Sometimes you consider yourself “happy” in the company of some beauty, he thought. But this beauty flies away, leaves an empty wallet, and happiness turns into a mirage. And what kind of “happiness” is this when it brings only suffering, illness and disappointment. The new happiness that he found is not only permanent, lasting, unchangeable, but it is also eternal. This happiness makes death itself joyful... For three days B-v rolled firewood... Strong, healthy, cheerful, cheerful, he seemed to be completely satisfied with his fate... The family cheered up, were well-fed and also happy. A ruble and a ten-kopeck piece without drunkenness was enough for all modest needs... They even had savings, so on the fourth day B-v did not go to work, but went with the first steamer to Kronstadt to Fr. John... - First correct your life, and then proceed to St. To secrets, - the words of the priest sounded from God... But he seems to have fixed his life! He reconciled with the whole world, with all his friends and enemies, with his surroundings, with his work... He reconciled his soul with the church, whose prodigal son he had been for 23 years! But he still had a difficult task ahead of him - to make amends for the past, to make amends with good deeds. How can I, a simple woodcutter, although I graduated from high school and once owned houses, do any good to anyone? What good deeds can I do? With such thoughts, he boarded the first ship and went to Kronstadt. Father John celebrated early mass in the church of the city council on the day when B-v arrived in Kronstadt with the first steamship. The service has already begun. B-v made his way into the church with difficulty and stood at a distance. There were a lot of communicants in the church. It was not difficult to distinguish them by their festive attire and particularly reverent mood. B-v knelt down. He felt completely calm, like a man who had been looking for something for a long time and found it, and, after a surge of first joy, managed to get used to the thought of the find. His calmness bordered on a state of complete happiness and contentment. If you asked him at this moment what he would like most, he would answer: to stay here. He was no longer afraid to raise his thoughts to heaven, to be present in spirit before the throne of the Most High and to pray fervently and heartily. On the contrary, he felt as if he were in his own, close and dear home, as if he were in a dearly beloved fatherland. Nothing disturbed his tranquility, poisoned his most rosy mood and did not upset his nerves. He even came to terms with his past, as if it were inevitable and impossible to return! As soon as Fr. John left with St. cup, B-v hastened to leave the church. - But will I really not see my dear father again? Will I not receive his blessing? - he thought. -Where did you go? – someone called out to B-va, calling him by his last name. He turned around somewhat frightened at the call. In front of him was member of the guardianship X. “I defended mass, I want to go to the ship,” answered B-v, as if mechanically. - Wait. Father wanted to see you. Go to the "House of Industriousness". You know, a place has been found for you: to manage the house and run the agency for foreign asphalt. Nice place. - Have mercy. I don't know anything and I can't do anything. I still can't learn to drive a car! Thank you comrades for teaching and helping. - After all, it is the priest who recommends you. You try to justify his trust: he is very disposed towards you... - Oh, if I were ordered, under pain of death, to drink a glass of vodka now, I would not agree for anything! Just remembering the past makes me tremble with horror. - This is wonderful, but you remember that your body is weak, and the enemy is strong and watches you every minute... The temptation is greater than we think, and therefore we often perish where we least expect it... Try to see your priest more often, fast more often and pray as much as possible. Remember, the priest said: “Prayer is living water with which the soul quenches its thirst”... - Yes, I’m happy to never lose sight of my father... - But they wanted to go without receiving a blessing... Let's go. They entered a separate room at the House of Fr. John" and remained waiting. Father John came only an hour later, and immediately wanted to see God. - Well, how are you working? I prayed for you. God gave you repentance. You can completely improve your life now. B-v fell to his knees and pressed himself against the shepherd’s clothes. His soul was filled with happiness. – When do you plan to fast with me? - Father, I can’t do it yet. I'm not worthy. - Repent, repent. Come to Christ with faith and repentance, and He will give you peace. When you are ready, come, I will confess you. Do you have any enemies, have you offended anyone? Remember and reconcile yourself before proceeding to St. Secrets. B-v was silent and cried quietly. “The Lord said: “Where two or three are gathered in My name, there I am in the midst of them.” Here you and I are two, and the Lord is among us. In the presence of the Lord, I wish you to part with your vicious life forever, stop drinking and carousing, begin a new working life and glorify His most holy name! Father John put his hand on the poor man's head and crossed him three times. A nervous tremor passed through B-va’s entire body. It seemed to him that he had received a new force from outside - powerful, indestructible. When he rose from his knees, the priest was no longer there. B-v didn’t drink anymore. His affairs quickly improved. In those days when B-va was surrounded by luxury, wealth, a crowd of flatterers and hangers-on, he did not feel as much consciousness of his own dignity as he does now. Of course, this dignity related entirely to spiritual communication with the Savior, but, nevertheless, it indirectly influenced him. He treasured and revered this “communication” as the greatest treasure and guarantee of his existence. His wife and children were resurrected to a new life, younger and healthier. Schools were already planned for the children, no one knew any more need for anything... Here is another similar example. There was a rather large silver coin in St. Petersburg. He was a family man and at the age of 32, when he had four children, a wife and an old mother, he began to drink heavily. At this time, his business was going brilliantly. He had capital and many profitable customers. He had up to 25 apprentices working in his workshop, so his production could be called almost factory-like. Pyotr Ermolaevich was a quiet man, a good family man, and although of a weak character, he was kind and partly even pious. He began drinking in the company of friends, learning to spend whole evenings with them in taverns. As he became a regular guest of the tavern, his company of drinking companions increased. He learned to drink more and more, was less and less involved in his work in the workshop, was bored with his family, was angry and irritable at home, stopped following orders, etc. Thanks to this, his company lost its reputation as a neat, efficient and conscientious workshop. The number of customers began to decrease rapidly. The best apprentices refused to serve, in a word, everything went into decline. All this influenced P.E. even more, and now he began to drink heavily. He comes home insensibly drunk, had a half-dollar hangover in the morning and went to the tavern, where he sat for whole days. Little by little it came to the point of closing the workshop. P.E. drank his own and other people’s things into drink, beat his wife and children for no reason, stole even necessary items from the family, and sold them for drinking. He had to switch from the tavern to the tavern, because in the latter vodka was half the price. At 2.5 years old, only one memory remained of Pyotr Ermolaevich’s prosperity and freedom!.. His wife somehow managed to go home with the children to the village, and P.E. became a real “golden miner” in rags, spending the night often under a fence or, at best, in a shelter. In dens and disgusting slums, P.E. met people like him, hungry, ragged drunkards, who once lived no worse than him: in prosperity, freedom, happiness, almost wealth... For about 5 years, P.E. was considered a bitter drunkard, drinking away every penny he could get his hands on. He tried to serve, but after the first paycheck he disappeared. He was again greeted with black eyes, a swollen face, and shaking arms and legs. Several times he ended up in the beggar committee, in hospitals, and once they even suspected him of theft, although he still did not go as far as committing a crime. It seemed that P.E. had lost everything. Of his former drinking companions and acquaintances, no one recognized him, and his appearance seemed to say that he had no choice but to ask God for an end to his suffering life. Even in the good times of his life, P.E. heard about Father John of Kronstadt. In one of the moments of involuntary (due to the absence of a “piglet”) sobering up, he remembered the Kronstadt shepherd. “And something just fell inside me,” says Pyotr Ermolaevich, “so it became fun, joyful in my soul.” During all the time of my drunkenness, I never had a more pleasant mental sensation... I fell to my knees, tried to pray - I couldn’t; the words of the prayer did not come to mind... I decided to immediately walk to Oranienbaum, and from there somehow make my way to Kronstadt. No sooner said than done. P.E. headed to the Baltic station. It was summer. It began to get dark, and Pyotr Ermolaevich set off along the sleepers into the night... He walked briskly. There was a lightness in my soul, as it had not been since the beginning of the tavern seat. All the thoughts, all the hopes of this half-man, who had almost lost his “image and likeness,” focused on Father John, whom he had never seen before and about whom he had never thought before... Now he is already in Oranienbaum. Not having a penny of money, P.E. wanted to go back. But some inner voice forced him to mix with the crowd and run to the pier... “Father John, Father John,” he heard all around. It took a lot of work for P.E. to squeeze through the crowd in order to look at his “deliverer,” on whom his entire future now depended. Pyotr Ermolaevich has now become so close to the thought of his rebirth through, Fr. John, that losing this hope for him meant losing everything... So he saw the approaching shepherd, whom the crowd seemed to be carrying on their shoulders... He saw this clear face of the priest, with an expression of great love, and trembled all over with excitement, overwhelmed by some kind of reverent awe... Father John at that time caught up with him... Unable to remember himself from the excess of feelings that overwhelmed him, like a sea tide, and not being able to utter a word, P.E. fell to the ground at the feet of Fr. John. Sobs squeezed the chest of the unfortunate drunkard, his eyes darkened. “Father,” groaned P.E., with difficulty catching up with the retreating father. John. Father John stopped and turned to the ragamuffin running with small steps. They met face to face... P.E. felt the eyes of the “father” on him. He could not withstand the surge of feelings and fell at his feet, tightly grasping Fr.’s cassock. John. “Get up, my dear,” the shepherd said affectionately, but firmly, almost imperiously, let’s go to the ship. P.E. jumped up, as if from the action of an electric current, and, not daring to raise his eyes to the priest, walked behind him. On the way there were people on the way who were eligible for blessing. It seemed to P.E. that they were looking at him somehow with hostility, as if he had done something wrong to them. Here is the ship. Father John, without turning around, walked along the ladder onto the ship. P.E. behind him. Soon after the steamer left the pier, the sailor turned to him with the words: - Come to the control room, the priest asks you. Father was sitting in the cabin when P.E. entered, barely moving his legs and hanging his head low. “Hello, come closer,” said Father John in his soft voice, “what is your name?” “Peter,” I whispered, not daring to move. - Well, come, Peter, sit here with me. Father John showed me a seat next to him, and I mechanically carried out his order, despite the fact that I considered sitting next to the priest almost sacrilegious. - Tell me your past. How did you get to these rags? Peel, right? “I drank, father,” I repeated, sobbing. - It’s okay, calm down. Remember that all things are good for those who love God... If you have lost everything, but remember and love God, you have not lost anything yet. It’s not good to get to this rags through a tavern; but who knows what paths the Lord leads us to Himself. Perhaps, otherwise you would never remember about God, about His glory, for which we must live. Every breath praises the Lord, and the grass also praises Him, but you are a man, the father of a family, perhaps the owner of many workers, you yourself have forgotten God and prevented others from praising Him... The more the priest spoke, the lighter P.E.’s soul became. His heart beat with such force, as if it wanted to burst. The whole being was filled with some kind of joyful trembling. – For a person, spiritual rags are scary, not perishable ones. In rags you can be deeply happy and prepare for yourself eternal life, but in poverty of spirit no earthly treasures will give a person either happiness or salvation... The conversation continued in the same direction. P.E. became more inspired with every word. The sobs subsided, and firmness, even some confidence, was heard in the voice. The transformation from a timid, humiliated, downtrodden ragamuffin into a man with a strong will, determination and almost enthusiasm took place so quickly that P.E. needed only a suit to become completely unrecognizable. P.E. still remembers this transformation as the greatest moment in his life. He grew up in his own eyes. He felt in himself that human dignity, which he was obliged to protect more than anything else in life, and in his soul he felt an influx of unprecedented joy. When the ship docked at the pier, P.E. no longer hid in the darkness and did not hang his head low. On the contrary, he stood up straight, throwing his head back slightly, and every movement was accompanied by such confidence, as if someone had just promoted him to advisor in commerce or awarded him a large order... “You find somewhere to stay for the night, and tomorrow come to early mass in the cathedral.” We will pray with you, then you confess, take Holy Communion. Tain and go back to St. Petersburg. Father John extended his hand to P.E., and he felt the presence of pieces of paper. - Take this, it will be useful to you. You need to get dressed and clean up. P.E. wanted to say something, to protest, but a crowd had already poured onto the ship. Father John found himself surrounded in one minute, and P.E. could no longer get to him. Pyotr Ermolaevich found 94 rubles in his hand. He had not had such a sum for several years, but the money did not please him at all, and he completely indifferently put it in the pocket of his holey jacket. Somewhere on the tower clock it struck two. In Kronstadt everything was closed and quiet, the streets were deserted. It was beginning to get light... P.E. went wandering, looking for St. Andrew's Cathedral. We had to walk for a long time until the high dome and bell tower of the white cathedral emerged on the lighting up horizon. The vast area, the beautiful iron grille, the immaculate cleanliness and the powerful appearance of a huge, completely new, as if a cathedral had just been built, made a gratifying impression on P.E. He climbed the steps to the porch, knelt down and began to pray... The ragamuffin stood for a long time in this position, but could not concentrate his thoughts on God, could not forget everything around him and surrender to prayer. With the first strike of the bell, a line of pilgrims flocked to the cathedral. Along all the streets adjacent to the cathedral, a wide variety of people walked in whole parties. Women with children, merchants, officials, officers, old and young. P.E. was amazed: as if on Easter Sunday, the people were rushing to matins. When the service ended, the people did not “rush out of the church,” as always happens during a “casual analysis.” On the contrary, everyone remained in their places and only crowded closer to the pulpit. Everyone was waiting... Some for blessings, some for confession, some had a request to the priest, in a word, everyone had some kind of “business”. “Come on, I’ll confess you, and tomorrow, at early mass, you will receive Holy Communion.” Tain,” said Fr. John Peter Ermolaevich. They walked towards the lectern. Confession was accompanied by lengthy instruction from the pastor, after which he knelt next to the confessor and prayed. Having then blessed the confessor, the priest said: – Go in peace and try not to sin. First of all, do not allow sinful thoughts: after thoughts, bad deeds will come, then it is more difficult to fight. If you feel the weight of the struggle and see that you cannot cope with evil on your own, run to your spiritual father and ask him to introduce you to St. Tain. This is a great and all-powerful weapon in the fight against drunkenness. Do not be ashamed to call your sins by their real name in front of the priest and do not hide it in your soul. Otherwise, it is impossible to receive forgiveness and strength in the struggle. The Orthodox Church does not deny St. to any of its sons. Sacraments, and the liturgy is celebrated with us daily. Go. Subsequently, Pyotr Ermolaevich spoke a lot and willingly about his “strong emotional shock” after confession. The next day he received Holy Communion. Tain, having previously changed his appearance. In Kronstadt, he bought himself underwear and a dress and returned to St. Petersburg a quite decent gentleman. First of all, he rented a small apartment, bought a workbench and the remaining 13 rubles. sent to his wife, asking her to immediately go to him with the children. – I, by the grace of God and the prayers of Fr. John of Kronstadt, became a man again,” he wrote to his wife. – Come back to me, forget and forgive the past. I am firmly convinced that the Holy Orthodox Church will not consider me a lost, lost son. With God's help, I hope to lead the working life of a Christian. He wrote the truth. On the second day after returning to St. Petersburg, he easily got a job for one store. For his neat and impeccable workmanship, at reasonable prices, he was soon overwhelmed with work, so in the very first month he hired apprentices, and a year later he had his own workshop again. The wife immediately complied with her husband's demand and did not repent of it. Pyotr Ermolaevich’s behavior not only did not give her any reason to be dissatisfied with him in any way, but, on the contrary, she could not have wished for greater care and consideration. Every Sunday and holiday the family went to church, every evening was dedicated to reading St. scripture and prayer. Growing up children were sent to educational institutions. Not a single poor person was refused help by P.E. The local parish church was the subject of his special care. He gilded vestments and church utensils, repaired chandeliers, bought icons, in a word, did everything in his power to decorate and splendor the church. – The Church gave me everything; “Will I regret anything for her,” he often said. Two years later, Pyotr Ermolaevich opened his own store, and recently bought a stone house. He clearly saw that every sacrifice he made for the church, every help to the poor was returned a hundredfold, in the form of good orders, profitable jobs, and therefore did not skimp on good deeds. The more he gave away, the more he gained, justifying the word of St. Scripture - the hand of the giver will not fail. Before Fr. John passed through thousands of such victims, he constantly listened to their confessions about those terrible dramas in life that occurred thanks only to drunkenness. And oh. John, therefore, always castigated drunkenness with harsh words. “Brethren,” he said, “drunkenness is a snare of the devil, a poison of the devil: for drunkenness destroys human souls, and with their souls their bodies.” What are drinking houses? Snares of the devil. In houses they put some kind of dish with fly agaric water to drive away flies; the flies drink it, get drunk and then die. Drinking houses are similar to this. Wine taken in excess is a murderous thing; and man is greedy; this is his natural weakness, inherited from the first people. Wine sellers, forgive me, aren’t you murderers? How so? Very simple. A person, especially a simple, uneducated one, and everyone is weak and sinful: it is easy to lead him into any vice. And the owners of drinking houses are driving the poor people into drunkenness. But, woe to that man, says the Savior, to whom temptation comes; for the Son of man, the Son of God, has come to seek and save the lost. 55 Woe to those who build and multiply drinking houses. People are dying both physically and mentally, like flies from fly agaric liquid, from the proliferation of drinking houses and wine sales, and the owners of these houses are guilty of their death. And who are these perishing? – Children of the Heavenly Father; children of the Lord Life-Giving, who gave birth to them in the baptismal font. Have ears to hear, let him hear! If the owners of drinking houses and those who allow them to build many of them want to earn mercy at the Last Judgment of the Lord: let them immediately cleanse the drinking houses of wine, and let them turn them into residential buildings or for other real needs: it’s time to stop playing with wine and destroying the souls and bodies of the poor people. And you, people of the Lord, immediately stop drinking and ruining yourself and your families, so as not to destroy your souls and bodies. In the name of the Lord, I beg you to stop drinking, especially on Sundays and holidays. The Lord's days must be sanctified by abstinence, prayer and virtue, and not desecrated by drunkenness, rioting, foul language and other indecent acts. Do not corrupt yourself with drunkenness; remember that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit not made by hands; but if anyone corrupts God’s church, God will corrupt him, 56 that is, here he will subject him to illness and at death to the most stinking corruption, and in the next century to eternal corruption in eternal fire. Do not get drunk with wine, for there is fornication in it: but rather be filled with the Spirit, speaking to yourself in psalms and songs and spiritual songs, singing and making melody in your hearts to the Lord. 57 Amen. It is difficult to convey in words (said one deep admirer of Fr. John) the change that occurs in the villagers who visited Fr. John. Where previously there was shouting from abuse and quarrel, it was replaced by friendly relations: women come together, remember the high moods they experienced in Kronstadt, read or listen to books given to them, collect eggs, linens and money among themselves to send to the poor. The charming and beneficial influence of the good shepherd is noticeable not only among ordinary people... Dozens of intelligent people have changed under the influence of the word of Fr. John. Hundreds of developed, educated people report with delight about their impressions, about their conversations with Fr. Sergiev. “Those who labor and are burdened” came to this spiritual light, to this representative of heavenly truth on earth - they came to him with their grief and need, with their incessant anger and with insane doubt. And the speech of the good shepherd, full of Christian love, consoled the sad, gave strength for struggle, inspired patience, softened anger, and brought peace to the restless soul. And the hand of the same sad man, the father of the poor, helped them in their material needs. How many people have been saved by Fr. John from the fatal outcome, kept from debauchery, returned to the path of truth. How much good has been sown - countless facts testify to this... Unmercenary Fr. John did not even know the differences between people, helping everyone in the name of Christ. The late Kiev hierarch, the highly revered Metropolitan Platon, once said: “Our earthly partitions do not reach to heaven.” Fr. also held this view. John, helping also the Gentiles, many of whom, under the influence of the simple speech of the shepherd, prompted by an inner feeling, joined the Orthodox Church. There were many examples when the Kronstadt shepherd helped Jews and Mohammedans both in deed and word.