Блаженная Мария Ивановна

I should have written about Blessed Maria Ivanovna a long time ago. Yes, I still couldn’t get it together. She even reproached me for this in my sleep. I saw this dream when I returned to Diveevo from my last exile. At that time, I became close to the cell attendant of the great blessed Praskovya Ivanovna, Evdokia. I wrote a lot from her words, she told them mainly when they lived in Moscow. And then somehow I see Maria Ivanovna in a dream: “What are you all about: Praskovya Ivanovna, yes Praskovya Ivanovna! Are you forgetting me? It should be mentioned that when I was brought to the monastery as a child, I did not see Praskovya Ivanovna - it was the first week of Lent and they did not bother her. So I never saw her - she died in 1915. But she knew Maria Ivanovna well, but she told her a little about her. So I want to fill the gap. Moreover, she already remembered about Onesimus, and these blessed ones were very friendly: where there is about him, there should be about her. So, when Maria Ivanovna’s legs were still walking, she used to walk arm in arm with Onisim around the monastery. The blessed one had several favorites. She loved, for example, Kolenka, the son of our father Mikhail, and she loved him from his very birth. This good boy died at age 10, shortly before his father's arrest. Died of diphtheria. The second favorite is Mikhail Petrovich Artsybushev, she called him “Mishenka”. Immediately after her death, Mishenka was shot in Moscow before the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross. The blessed one had all sorts of funny things with Artsybushev. I note that Maria Ivanovna, as a very resourceful person, also had a sharp mind, and she loved to surprise people with something. Dorothea's cell attendant was angry with the blessed one; she supposedly gave her a headache. One day some military official came to Maria Ivanovna and wanted to come in. It was Soviet times, Dorofey’s mother warns Maria Ivanovna: - A strict man has arrived, don’t say anything in front of him in vain! Don't tell me about the Tsar... “I won’t,” answered the blessed one. As soon as the “strict” one entered, she burst out and began to feel: - When Nikolashka ruled, there was cereal and porridge! Even though Nikolai was a fool, bread cost a nickel! And now there is a “new regime” - we are all lying hungry. There was a hunger strike, and this was the speech. How can you not get a headache here? Another case. Before Archbishop Evdokim was defrocked - he fell into renovationism - Maria Ivanovna sang a song about him: “As Evdokim walks down our street with a bucket, his legs are thin, crooked...” (hereinafter indecent). He will sing, and again from the beginning. Mikhail Petrovich Artsybushev was devoted to the blessed one with all his soul, and being the director of the Astrakhan fisheries, he did nothing without her blessing. So, the doctors prescribed him to drink iodine. Go ahead and ask Maria Ivanovna what to do? She replied: “Iodine burns the heart, drink potassium iodide.” Mikhail Petrovich was struck by the very answer of the blessed one, because she is illiterate, and such erudition. – I graduated from the university. Somehow, after his departure from Diveyevo, Mikhail Petrovich’s sisters and mother tired of the blessed one, approaching her with the same question: how does he live, how does he feel? “Our little Mishenka got in touch with a gypsy woman. They were horrified because she always spoke correctly about Mishenka. When he came to Diveevo again a year later, the sisters decided to ask Mikhail Petrovich about the “gypsy woman”. In response, Mishenka burst into laughter. Then he said: - Well, blessed! I hadn’t smoked for many years, but then I was tempted and bought “Gypsy” cigarettes at a stall. I remember the blessed one sang: “Tomorrow there will be a holiday, Misha Artsybushev is a prankster.” She covered up her holy life with such jokes. But Onesimus still remained her greatest favorite. He was called "groom". I remember sitting with her - I couldn’t see or hear anything, Maria Ivanovna said: And indeed, Onesimus enters. She told him: He raises his hand over her and begins to hum something. And she is happy. Maria Ivanovna once wooed me for him: - Say: marry me. I remember once I asked Maria Ivanovna a direct question, and it concerned foreknowledge of something. She replied: “I’m not a fortune teller.” After the dispersal of the monastery, we were in dire need, but we lived close to her. Once we got ready for Sarov, we came to her house along the road. We climbed onto the rubble and looked out the window. The blessed one sits on the bed, crosses herself, and herself says: “Send, Lord, a benefactor; send, Lord, a benefactor.” And well, in Sarov I met people who began to help us. They sent white crackers and sugar in large boxes. We received such great support, and gradually everything improved for us. Once, very picturesquely, in her special, blissful language, she depicted near-death illness and death. Even Dorofey’s mother was horrified by such passions. I asked: – Maria Ivanovna, is it scary to die? In 1945 I worked in the Vologda region, on a collective farm. I was sad with my whole being, reaching almost to despair. And how not to despair? I was freed from the camp on October 1, 1942. Five years passed in prison, and for another two and a half years I could not get to my place. And on Maslenitsa I see the blessed one in a dream. She baptizes me all around: It turns out that in those days I was sent a challenge. A week later I received it, but my return was associated with such unusually difficult circumstances that if it were not for her blessing and prayers, I don’t know how I would have gotten there. Old style On March 23, 1945, I left the village. The road collapsed, and the snow was one and a half arshins thick! The foreman took me six miles, dropped off my things and went back. I had to somehow get back. I finally left for Annunciation, March 25th. The frost hit as low as 30 degrees. In my joy, I forgot to take a sheepskin coat and was freezing to death and, of course, caught a cold. I was carrying pork, and I wanted to check it and my things as luggage. They didn’t accept my things, but they gave me a ticket with four transfers. Miraculously, there were people everywhere who helped me carry my luggage. As soon as I got on the train, our driver was killed. It’s impossible to describe everything I suffered on the road. While still in the monastery, I heard from the blessed one: – And you will wander around Moscow. And you, mother, will be sent away. And when I wandered around Moscow after the dispersal of the monastery, I knew very well: they would soon deport me. And so it happened... Bishop Seraphim Zvezdinsky revered the blessed one as a great servant of God. She died at night, in a thunderstorm. Onesimus rejoiced. Once upon a time, three former friends came to see me at the monastery. She took them to the blessed one. I enter the first one. “Not that one, not that one,” and doesn’t want to talk. - Oh, here she is! Your mother is an old blind woman, go to your mother, otherwise she will die and you won’t find her. She did not pay attention to these words, and when her mother soon began to die, she was given a telegram. And she didn’t find her mother alive. To one young man who wanted to be ordained, she revealed his entire past life, after which there could no longer be any talk of him accepting the priesthood. In our monastery there lived a priest who caused great trouble for Mother Abbess. He had his own large party of sisters in the monastery. So they sent me to ask Maria Ivanovna what she thought about this priest? They only ordered not to tell the blessed one that she was sent from Mother Abbess. The blessed one greeted me with the words: - Go tell the abbess that father (and she named the priest) will soon leave here for Arkhangelsk with his entire family. Everything came true exactly, but only a year after the dispersal of the monastery. One friend asked me to find out through Maria Ivanovna about her son: his marriage was not going well and he was very worried. The blessed one replied: - He is an ascetic, he wears chains. She was outraged by her answer, but after a while he was arrested, he became seriously ill and died in the camp. Once I came to her, and a spoiled young woman was sitting with her. She sang, then told her that her sister-in-law had planted a demon under her crown and caused damage with a green belt. Maria Ivanovna ordered persistently: Then she ordered the rosary to be put on her. The enemy was clearly walking around in pain: first his arm would swell, then his leg, then his stomach. When they put on the rosary (very large), my neck swelled and began to choke. They took the woman to Sarov. The next morning Maria Ivanovna sat and clapped her hands: “Here he is, running, running.” In the evening they returned from Sarov and said that the sick woman was healed while walking from the source. Maria Ivanovna from Diveyevo seemed to see all this and clapped her hands. When I entered the monastery in 1924, I developed abscesses on my hands due to my thinness. I tried to anoint them with lamp oil from the relics, but still did not receive healing. I went to Maria Ivanovna to tell about this. She responded: How do you apply it? Just like that? Apply a cross and surround. I applied it like that and everything went away. She also ordered the warts on her hands to be smeared with zheltotel (herb celandine), and everything went away without a trace. Such was our blessed Maria Ivanovna. I was predicted about all the prisons. When she was still in the monastery, Blessed Maria Ivanovna told me: “You will wander around Moscow... But you, mother, will be sent away.” Which is exactly what happened next. She returned from exile in 1936. The monastery is in the world. Mother (Anatoly, who guided my spiritual life) then lived in Murom. Around the same time I had a dream: I was in the cathedral, standing on the right choir. The service is going on, I hear distinct singing, exclamations of the priest, etc. Suddenly the service stops, a pause forms. I leave the choir and see that the priests are arguing among themselves about something, which is why the service stopped. I head towards the exit of the cathedral and see two bishops entering it. I look - one of them is my Vladyka Peter. I bow at his feet, he lifts me up and holds me by the head and says: “Ah, the servant of God is a prisoner...” I answer: “No, Vladyka, I am not a prisoner, I have freed myself.” “You still need to sit.” “But I don’t want to, I was already sitting...” - “You need it.” I leave the cathedral, on the porch I notice a door to a side room, and my mother is sitting in it. I go up to her and say: “Mother, Vladyka just told me that I still need to sit,” and I wake up with the feeling that I saw everything in reality. It was 1936 - a time of calm. People returned from exile. But then ’37 rolled up. Then the following thing happened: the head of the Kazan Railway received an order, secret of course, to derail two military trains. He hesitated for a long time about what he should do - either they would imprison him or not, but in the end he finally let him go. There was a rumor that the trains were being derailed by tramps, cliques, gypsies, etc. And the nuns also fit into this category. They began to grab everyone and imprison them. That boss, it seems, was shot. The police were paid 5 rubles for each person caught. And I worked just on the railway. When all this happened, I couldn't stay there. The nun with whom I lived was taken to the “winter” Seraphim, after which I left for Murom. That day I came to my mother, and it was so hard for me that I even prayed: “Lord, I wish they would take me soon.” The Monk Seraphim said that such words do not go in vain to monks. I wanted to leave my mother; but she left me to glue wallpaper and spend the night. Suddenly they knock at 12, right at midnight. “Who came to see you?” Apparently I was being followed. While on the way, I noticed that some unpleasant guy was following me. Mother then lived with her spiritual daughter, a psychiatrist; later this woman took monastic vows and died in the schema. The security officers wanted to go to mother, but the doctor forbade them. She said: “This is my patient, I forbid you to go to her!” But they took me and the nun Raphaila, who was caring for my mother. They tell me: “Get ready, you’re under arrest. Let's go." I think: “How can I say goodbye to my mother?” And out loud: “You know what? Now I won’t go anywhere alone at night with three men across the city. If you want to pick me up, come in the morning.” They agreed and only took my passport, and ordered the hostess to bring me to them herself in the morning. So I got the opportunity to say goodbye to my mother. At parting I heard: “You will be given five years in the camps. You will work as an accountant. Pray that the Mother of God will forgive your sins. When they forgive, they will let you go.” In the morning, we, the arrested people - gypsies, tramps, punks, etc., were pushed into a car so tightly that we couldn’t turn around - we stood huddled close to each other and were driven away. The “troika” judged - three hundred people were convicted in three hours. No one delved into the cases; they were often tried in absentia. I was convicted under the article as a “socially harmful element”, the sentence was 5 years in the camps. My first link was under Article 58 – “counter-revolutionary organization” (served in a church). Now I found myself in a common camp with criminals, repeat offenders and punks. First they sent us south. The conditions there were tolerable - I worked in the accounting department. Then temptation came upon me, and in order to avoid temptation, I myself asked to go to the prison camp. There was no other way out. The stage turned out to be terribly difficult - to the Far East, to build the port of Nakhodka. Shock construction began with the construction of barracks on an empty bank. On top of that, I ended up in a men's camp. In sorrow, I wrote a letter to my mother, just two lines: “Mother, pray, I ended up in a men’s camp.” I don’t know whether the letter arrived or not, but the Lord strengthened me - all feeling disappeared, although I was only 35 years old. When men pestered me, I didn’t understand at all what they wanted from me. She worked as an accountant, although she didn’t like to count. Then they assigned me to a pharmacy. The manager there was the wife of one of the camp leaders. She needed an honest person whom she could rely on: alcohol at the pharmacy, etc. She was recommended to take me. She turned out to be quite a kind woman, and I became friends with her. We took turns sitting in the pharmacy, on duty. The working day lasted from 9 am to 5 pm, then I sat at her house until 10 pm. As someone unescorted, I was allowed to do this. One thing bothered me: “thanks” to the fact that I had such an article, I had to sit with the punks. At the manager’s house, I helped with something, because she had two children, or I just knitted. Then she went to the barracks. There were 30 women huddled there, and all around there were thousands of men in similar barracks. All the women except me were involved with men. And yet, for some reason, they were terribly afraid to walk at night, even several people went to the toilet. I walked everywhere alone, and it wasn’t scary at all. Once I even asked a repeat offender I knew if, in his opinion, I should be afraid of anything. He said: “It’s in the wild where you need to be afraid, where they don’t know you. But here everyone knows you, and no one will touch you.” I was only afraid of the dogs that were let out at night. Everyone was amazed: how is it that a 35-year-old woman has no connection with anyone. It was as if the camp authorities had discussed this once and were also perplexed. However, one with shoulder straps said: “She’s too cunning, she covers her tracks well.” Maybe they decided on that. Of the terrible events that had to be experienced in the camp, the most terrible was the suppression of the “Polish revolt”. It was like that. Our camp was adjacent to the Kolyma transfer - from there people were sent to Kolyma. And so the Polish officers found themselves in one of the stages. The event took place around 40–41. The Kolyma transfer is a disastrous place. There was almost no chance of returning from there. And then one day an angry captured officer approached the head of the camp to find out something. A conflict ensued. The Pole swung at the head of the camp, and he gave the sign to shoot at the people. Machine guns began firing from the four corners immediately. The Poles ran out of the tents in which they lived to find out what was going on, and fell under bullets... Over 70 people were killed in a few minutes. This is the result of the “revolt of captured Poles.” At this time I was returning at night from the sanatorium to the camp. I see that the Kolyma transfer station is illuminated by floodlights, as bright as day. Suddenly bullets whistled overhead. I sat down on a stone - the bullets continued to whistle. At first I didn’t understand what was happening, but the next day I found out that they were shooting at the camp. One person took a swing, and they dealt with 70!.. Unfortunately, the friendship with the head of the pharmacy did not last long, about two months. Then they removed her husband, they even wanted to give him a prison sentence, and they prepared me to be a witness. The security officers persuaded me, but I refused. A second term threatened. But by the grace of God everything worked out. Maybe another camp commander, an old security officer, helped, to whom I said: “Who am I doing bad to? What do they want from me? He replied: “Nothing, don’t be afraid.” Since then they have not touched me. They again made me an accountant in the sanatorium, and my predecessor was transferred to general work; they say he drank a lot. I was also in charge of the hospital kitchen. It turned out that that accountant did not write everything down. Most likely he didn’t understand why he did it. I started writing everything out as it should be. As a result, the cook will come and say: “Why did you order so much, there was always less. I won’t get that much.” “I wrote out as much as required, I am responsible for the signature. Get it." As soon as he leaves, the storekeeper is on the doorstep: “We won’t give out that much.” And I tell him: “I wrote it out, and I answer – give it out.” They believed in integrity. Then they mutually invented with the cook how to better feed the prisoners. In general, the food during shock construction was quite good. There were many barrels in the storage facilities where chum salmon and pink salmon were salted. After all, when the fish went to spawn, a lot of them washed ashore. They collected in reserve. This fish could only be salted or boiled. If you fry it, it becomes hard, like wood. And so cook Yashka and I invented how to feed the prisoners more exquisitely. Yashka turned out to be a wonderful cook. This completely red-haired Jew first served 4 years for profiteering. And when he got out, he killed the informer and received another 10 years. Now, as he said, he knows why he’s in jail. When I was transferred to another place, they began to feed the prisoners as before. In the meantime, the head of the pharmacy was replaced. A civilian pharmacist was put in her place. The old accountant immediately began to offer him his help. And I fell into disgrace because I called him, a civilian, by his first name and first name. This bothered him. As a result, the previous accountant was replaced in my place. True, then the pharmacist realized what it meant to lose an honest person. He conveyed his bows and greetings, and the job was done. There was a stage ahead. They sent me on a ferry along with the “mothers” to Vladivostok. On the way, one guard was kind to me and helped me avoid being transported in the hold. They covered us prisoners with a tarpaulin (from the rain), and we all lay there on the deck. Sailing through Fox Island, which looked like a rock in the sea, the ship stopped and stood off the coast the whole night. It was very beautiful all around: wild stones entwined with vines. An island, an ocean, waves beating against a rock, seagulls – what is not pristine beauty? I kept reciting the psalm “Lord, you have tempted me...” I read it all the way. After all, we might not have reached Vladivostok. There were many minefields in the sea back then; in a storm, mines were torn off their fastenings and they could end up in any place. There was such a case in the ocean. Several imprisoned nuns were settled on one island so that the punks would not offend. They lived there alone. And then one night a storm broke out, and a mine exploded on their island and hit a rock. No one was hurt, only all the nuns could not tear themselves off the floor out of fear. Finally, our barge-steamer stopped on the approach to Vladivostok Bay. All the approaches there were mined, and we had to wait for the pilot, who guided the ship between the minefields. There was such a case before us: a steamer with freed prisoners stood and stood, hummed and hummed, but the pilot still did not appear. And the ship went without a pilot, went and was blown up by a mine. Hundreds of people died. Maybe someone got a scolding, but people died... The most terrible test for me during my prison years was the Vladivostok transfer. I sat with the punks for four winter months. The shipment is packed to capacity, the conditions are terrible. They gave us a mug of water per person per day - drink and wash. In the corridor there was a large barrel into which they poured slops, but sometimes they also urinated there at night; and the people on duty washed the floors with this water; there was no other water. The stench was terrible. A light wall separated the male and female halves of the prison. A hole was made in it, which was closed for the day. At night, “grooms” came to the women’s quarters with huge knives. I always tried to maintain the purity of my soul, but I had to learn the full depth of human fall. There were such bandits there... A neighbor on the bunk told, though not without a shudder, how she took part in a “wet case”: a bandit stabbed a child in a cradle and enjoyed licking the blood from the knife. Those were the people there. It happened that you would wake up from screams - someone was being beaten, or robbed, or stabbed, you would turn on your other side, cover your ears and go back to sleep. As soon as I stood it, I don’t know. What kind of nerves can there be after this? And there was also this thing in the camp - a barracks for syphilitics. Somehow a new stage arrived, no place was prepared for him, and the camp authorities decided to place those arriving in the barracks, and send the syphilitics into our barracks. And they locked themselves from the inside, they didn’t let us in, they said: all the good places in the zone are occupied, where are you driving us, where should we sleep, under the bunks? Let's not go! Then the authorities ordered them to occupy any places they chose. And at night we are sleeping, suddenly there are terrible screams, a crowd of syphilitic women rushes in, themselves covered in ulcers, dirty, and they begin to throw everyone off their bunks or jump and squeeze between people. It turns out - punks. And then they sat together. They drank from the same dishes, washed in the same bathhouse - as soon as the Lord saved, I don’t know. True, I fell ill with scabies - I was covered all over with scabs. And to this day, as soon as anything happens, the itching begins. And what did the punks get up to in the bathhouse! They take everyone to wash, in the bathhouse there is one gang for each. The punks run forward to capture two gangs. The syphilitic woman sits in one and washes herself from the other. I had to run headlong to grab a gang for myself. But the older people were lagging behind, and they didn’t have enough gangs. By the time the punks wash themselves and they get the gang, then water, everyone is already taken away. The punks constantly lost all their clothes, so the prison authorities did not know what to dress them in. When they began to be transported (to Kolyma), they did not want to go into the car, they squealed, scratched, bit, and swore. The guards took each one by the legs and arms, swung them around and threw them into the car, otherwise they couldn’t control it. One, nicknamed One-Eyed, ran away and hid. Because of her, everyone was detained while they were looking for her. The search continued for a long time. We discovered it by accident - she climbed between two tents and sat there. As soon as they pushed her into the car, she scratched, bit, and squealed. We're lucky. We breathed a sigh of relief - we subsided! Suddenly at night they bring me back. It turned out that the ship did not wait for them and left. But in general, we later became friends with the criminals. Later they even stopped swearing in front of me. For the last year of my imprisonment, I was assigned to general work. At first it seemed like nothing, but then I was sent to the state farm. I couldn’t cope there, I couldn’t keep up with everyone. And then it was Mother’s Day of Remembrance. I think: “Mommy, if you have even a little boldness, pray for me, I can’t stand it here.” After some time, I was transferred to an easier job. There was also a moment when I fell ill with scurvy, and somehow it became very difficult for me. The day of dad's memory has arrived. That day I was transferred to a farm to receive milk. Of course, they were soon removed from there, but within a month I managed to improve my health. The term was ending, and in the last two years I have not received a single letter from home. The last letter came before the war from my sister. She reported that she was going somewhere and outlined the road. Then - silence. The time has come to be released, but I don’t know where to go, or whether anyone is even alive. It was the day of remembrance of St. Seraphim. I chose a moment, went into an empty vegetable store to pray alone, and I said: “Father Seraphim! You completely forgot me. There has been no news from home for so long. Help me! I arrive at the barracks, and they hand me a letter from my sister. The whole camp came running to watch. No one has received any letters from us for over a year. First for me. Liberation has arrived. It was then that I remembered the words of my mother: “Pray to the Mother of God to forgive your sins. When they forgive you, they will let you go.” I didn’t pray, I thought the time would end and they’d let me go. And when it ended, that’s when the hardest part began. It took two and a half years to get home! At first we were settled in Vladivostok along with the punks. There were four beds in our room: I and three other women lived. Every evening up to 18–20 men would cram into this room. I went to the kitchen, and when I was completely exhausted, I went to lie down on my bed, covered my head with a blanket and fell asleep. I didn’t know what they were doing there. One night I woke up to their bed collapsing. Even in the camp, the criminals were already embarrassed to swear in front of me, but here the abomination did not subside. I found a prosecutor in the city and began to say that I had accidentally been charged with a criminal offense, that I used to have a 58th (if only they would have placed me separately from the punks). The prosecutor started shouting at me that with Article 58, could I be in the border zone? It turned out that it was my fault. I could only somehow move on the Mother of God holidays. Once I left two days before the Annunciation, I had to return from the road - there was no way through. And we went to the Annunciation itself - we drove through. You can't tell everything. I will try to paint a picture of the spiritual past with small strokes. Evgeniy Poselyanin, the compiler of Ascetics of Piety, lived with an unbelieving sister in Petrograd before his death. And then he sees a dream about how they call on the phone, and then they come at night and take him away. I woke up in the morning and went to see my confessor, Fr. Boris. He confessed and received the Holy Mysteries. That same night the dream literally came true: they called me on the phone, then they broke in, searched me, took me away and took me away. After some time, my sister found out that he had been shot. She was an unbeliever and did not perform his funeral service, and did not tell any of the priests about it. After some time, his confessor, Fr. Boris, serving in the church, goes out to cense on the pulpit and suddenly sees a Villager standing on the choir. When the priest came closer, he opened his jacket, and Fr. Boris sees a bullet wound on his chest. Father Boris asks: “When did this happen?” In response, Evgeniy Nikolaevich points his hand at the icon of the Three Hierarchs. The priest says: “I need to burn incense; wait, I’ll be right back,” and goes to the altar. When I returned, there was no one on the choir. In the village of Puzo (now Suvorovo) lived blessed Evdokia, completely ill, she could no longer walk. And the old woman had a high spiritual life. Several praying mantises lived with her. In 1918, a punitive detachment came to the village of Puzo. All the women were first brutally beaten in the house, then taken outside the village to the cemetery and shot. The sick old woman was carried in her arms. Their names: Evdokia, two Daryas and Maria. One of the women who lived with the blessed one ran away, and another was away. The grave of the martyrs is located in the cemetery in this village. Bishop Theodore stayed in the Danilov Monastery. He moved there after being rescued from the Trinity-Sergius Lavra in 1905. Immediately after the revolution, both he and Vladyka Guria were arrested and kept in Tagansk prison for four years. The boss there was the brother of Menzhinsky’s wife. They say that he was a decent man and helped the prisoners a lot. When I received the order to prepare a cell for His Holiness Patriarch Tikhon, I decided to come to the Patriarch at night to warn him. Maybe he remembered how in childhood he was taught to fold his hands, walked up to the blessing and said: “I am the head of the Tagansk prison. I have been ordered to prepare a cell for you." The Patriarch replied: “Please prepare.” But at that time the Patriarch was not put in prison, but was imprisoned in the Donskoy Monastery. And there were up to 12 bishops in the cell. They served in the prison, and since there was no deacon, everyone took turns proclaiming the litanies. The Metropolitan started, the rest took turns. Pious people brought prosphora and vestments from the outside, and the guards handed them over. When I first arrived from Siberia, I immediately went to the relatives of my Bishop Peter (Zverev). It turned out that he was also in prison, but the next day his relatives should have permission to visit him. I had no hope of obtaining such permission, since it was only given to close relatives. And so they went on a date, and I remained standing at the prison gates. Suddenly a man comes out and asks me: “Who are you going to?” I say: “To Zverev.” He says: “No permission?” I answer: “No.” This man turns around and says to the sentry: “Take me to Zverev without permission.” It turns out that it was the head of the Tagansk prison. Vladyka, of course, was surprised when he saw me. He was then in the prison hospital. Before Vladyka Peter was sent into exile, another three-hour meeting took place on the platform. The Bishop said to his children: “If I could show you my heart... How suffering cleanses the heart!” The end of Bishop Theodore’s term came and he was released. At that time, Moscow was filled with renovationists. All clergy and laity faithful to Orthodoxy grouped around the Danilov Monastery. It was 21 years old. Bishops from everywhere were exiled to Moscow. Literally in every church there is a bishop. In the Danilov Monastery, the so-called Danilov Synod was formed with Metropolitan Seraphim Chichagov at its head (formally he headed it, but the actual head was Bishop Theodore). Soon the Patriarch was released, which was greeted with universal jubilation. And the repentance of the renovationists began. When Metropolitan Sergius of Stragorodsky came to repent, the Patriarch, seeing this middle-aged bishop, reproachfully said: “Okay, those are boys, but what are you?” Alexy Simansky also brought repentance, then he was still a hieromonk. Fr. lived in the Danilov Monastery at that time. Simeon (archimandrite). In his youth he was very cheerful and loved to dance. One day, a cheerful company of young people decided to visit Elder Gerasim. The elder blessed Fr. Simeon to become a monk, and he immediately accepted him. In 1905 he was shot in the spine. During the operation o. Simeon did not utter a sound, which even converted the previously unbelieving nurse, who said that only a believer could withstand such terrible pain. After the operation, the archimandrite remained completely disabled. The entire lower half of his body was lost. When he felt well, he was put in a wheelchair and carried into the church, where he sang in the choir. He had a beautiful voice, he even sang “May my prayer be corrected.” He confessed to the people who were guided by Bishop Theodore. I did this while lying in bed on my stomach. He was sent to prison in 1936 or 1937; he died in Tver at the beginning of the war (1942). Eternal memory to him.