О. Иоанн вне Кронштадта

O. John in St. Petersburg. He served mass and is expected in one of the houses to visit the sick man. The crew is arriving. Father John, bright and smiling, gets out of the carriage. He is immediately surrounded by admirers, especially female admirers of all classes and ranks. They surround Father from all sides, kiss his hands, press him, push him... He smiles and only sometimes says reproachfully: “Mothers, you mothers.” He goes upstairs. Christian joy emanates from every movement. All of it is a refutation of the now false idea that church Christianity is a religion of “corpses”, deathly. The asceticism of the Kronstadt healer is not melancholy, not sadness, not despondency, not gloominess - it is the color of life, the play of the morning sun, the smile of a child. Asceticism is the joy of life, liberation from what oppresses the soul. Asceticism is not melancholy, not sadness, not despondency, not gloominess. Asceticism is the color of life, the play of the morning sun, the smile of a baby. “My joy! Christ is risen! Here he is entering the apartment. High on the 3rd–4th floor. Clean, bright room; in the middle there is a large table covered with a snow-white tablecloth, on it there is a bowl and other accessories for the blessing of water. The windows are wide open, and streams of golden, hot light burst through them, you can see the blue sky, and you can hear the cooing of pigeons nestling on the ledge. Sheaves of bright sun lay on the floor, on the carpet, on the tablecloth, playing in the water, in a bowl, on a plate, on a glass. “Oh, how nice, how fun it is in your apartment,” says the priest, blessing the owners and accidentally looked out the window. There was a small flower garden down there; in the flower beds one could see white asters and crimson petunias, yellow marigolds and other flowers were visible. Father John, already completely prepared to begin serving the prayer service, looked at the table and quickly asked: - Where are the flowers, where are the flowers? The owners, not understanding anything, looked at the priest in surprise. And he himself was already going down to the garden, from where a few minutes later he returned, carrying flowers in his hands and, cheerful and cheerful, began a prayer service, laying crimson and blue petunias, leftflowers and marigolds on a snow-white tablecloth around a cross sparkling from the sun. Father John begins the prayer on his knees, praying secretly, first alone, then he turns to those present with an invitation to pray. “Let us pray together,” he says: “The Lord said to His disciples: where two or three are gathered in My name, there I am among them, and there are many of us gathered here, and if we have gathered with faith and love, then He is undoubtedly present among us.” So, friends, according to your faith, may it be done to you! And setting an example for others, he begins to pray fervently, kneeling, sometimes with tears. “Lord Jesus Christ our God,” the words of the prayer are heard in the mute silence, “who for the sake of our salvation deigned to wear flesh, and glorified the wonderfully verbal nature, with your indescribable compassion and goodness, and who in true repentance turn from the depths of sin, promising to forgive... Good Lover of mankind, who made a creature with a single word and from it a man having created, take care of this, who by Thy ineffable love for mankind fell to himself and was a slave to sin, accepted and sanctified, so that the work of Thy hand would not perish to the end, having given this and Your saving commandments in memory of Thy coming and Thy commandments, and the Divine incarnation, heal this servant from the infirmity that holds him, heal, heal, strengthen, etc. He prays to give him, according to divine promise, power that heals infirmities and casts out demons. “Through my weakness, show Your strength!..” - his lips whisper. “He asked,” describes Fr.’s prayer. John is an eyewitness - with the irresistible power of love for one's neighbor. He knocked louder and louder on the cherished, promised door. He was completely transformed, his facial features lit up, his eyes shone mysteriously, trembling ran through his body, drops of sweat streamed down his forehead. Finally his prayer was heard. He felt a bright, wondrous, powerful force flow into him. He had known this feeling for a long time. He rose from his knees and headed towards the bed. Now there was no longer any excitement in him, no strange movements, no trepidation. He calmly walked up to the motionless patient and put his hand on his head. – Get up and let’s pray together! – he said quietly. There was no demand in these words, but they were said in such a way that, obviously, they could not be disobeyed. – I can’t move! – the patient said clearly. Then Fr. John laid his hand on him again and repeated once more: – Get up and let’s pray together! And the patient got out of bed, knelt down next to the priest, who began to read a prayer loudly. When the prayer was finished, Fr. John blessed the sick man, who was looking at him with tenderness, and then helped him lie down on the bed. – For God everything is possible! - he said calmly and with deep conviction, - just believe, just pray... “Ask and it will be given to you, ask and it will be opened...” Both life and death are all in the right hand of the Lord. After prayer Fr. John shares a meal with the owners and goes down to the carriage. However, he does not immediately get into the crew. Often, when he descends the luxurious staircase from the rich chambers, somewhere in the Swiss one he is caught by a poor worker or a “corner” tenant from the backyard; and so he, without any hesitation, goes down to her basement, prays, consoles, even shares modest portions after the luxurious meal that has just finished among a brilliant company, and then, having provided material assistance, leaves. Finding himself in one of the crowded houses of St. Petersburg, Fr. John, due to his infinite kindness, cannot refuse to visit any of its inhabitants. And it happens that, after walking through such a house for several hours, he unintentionally deceives a more important person who asked him to visit. How simple, affectionate and courteous Fr. John is with the poor, and he is the same in rich houses and in the chambers of dignitaries, without bearing even a shadow of partiality. In general, for Fr. John, everyone is equal, the rich and the poor, the smart and the rich, the giver and the beggar, the nobleman and the tradesman, Fr. John one honor, one place. The more a person is attached to the earth and earthly lusts, the less he will find a response to Fr. John, and vice versa, the freer a person’s heart is from attachments to perishable treasures, the closer and dearer he turns out to be to the Kronstadt shepherd... Father John travels in a wagon from Oranienbaum to Kronstadt on a winter night. There is some kind of “kinship of soul” here, an incomprehensible mutual attraction that cannot be determined by external observations. You see, for example, two old men in front of the “father”. One millionaire, who thrusts a wad of banknotes into the priest’s hand and bows humbly, and the other, a ragged beggar, stands with his gray head bowed... The first is scattered with compliments and pleasantries addressed to the priest, and the second is silent and only tears, one after another, roll down his wrinkled cheeks. There is such a difference between these two old men that only here, at the altar, could they come together, stand side by side... One moves in select society, his visits are received as rare and valuable attention, and the other is an inhabitant of night shelters, who, even when explaining to janitors or watchmen, respectfully takes off his hat... Here they are side by side. The millionaire is embarrassed by this proximity; he expects that Fr. John will immediately ask him to go to the altar, invite him to visit it, serve a prayer service... After all, he receives the bishop in his mansion, and then he did honor to the humble priest, he was the first to come to him, and suddenly you deign to stand next to some beggar, ragamuffin!.. So the millionaire made a pleasant smile, noticing that the priest was taking a prosphora out of his pocket, and prepared to cross himself piously... But the priest extended his hand with the prosphora to the beggar, put his left hand on his shoulder and spoke tenderly: - Here, dear, a prosphora. Where do you live, what is your name? The millionaire turns red, turns pale... He is ready to fall through the ground, his lips whisper something, and his legs mechanically back away... “Bless me, father,” he said hesitantly. But oh. John saw the same ragamuffin as the first one with whom he was now speaking, and hurries to extend his hand folded in a cross to him. He doesn't want to offend the rich man. No, God forbid: he knows how to understand and forgive even this rich man’s arrogance, out of pity he will even condescend to her; No, here he just doesn’t choose. He sees no one except begging hands and pleading eyes. Only children, the sick and the sinful enjoy his exceptional love.