Митрополит Вениамин (Федченков). Отец Иоанн

It has always been especially difficult for me to start remembering the ever-memorable Father John: he was too tall; and I am a sinner. And only for the benefit of others I begin to describe my personal impressions of him. I begin to write in the hospital (in the city of Brooklyn), lying from illness. I will write down what remains in my memory from the books I read and from what I saw personally. His father, Ilya Sergiev, was a simple psalm-reader in the village of Sura, Pinezhsky district, Arkhangelsk province. His mother's name was Theodora. As far as can be judged from various sources, the father was a man of a balanced, meek disposition, and the mother, undoubtedly, was an extremely energetic woman, with the look of an eagle. The father had a delicate calligraphic handwriting, which was passed on to his son, but gusts of strength passed from the mother into the handwriting of the future lamp. In addition to the boy, there were girls in the family. The child was born frail, so they rushed to baptize him on his birthday, October 19, 1829, on the day of remembrance of the Bulgarian ascetic John of Rylsky, after whom the baby was named. When he began to grow up, they began to teach him to read and write and sent him to school. But the initial wisdom of adding letters into syllables was difficult for the boy. And so, the priest himself later said, he knelt down and began to fervently pray that the Lord would open his mind to learning. And suddenly it was as if some kind of film had been removed from his head, and he began to understand everything clearly. And he graduated from the Theological Seminary as the best student. Then, unlike my time (1900s), students studied conscientiously, and Sergiev was distinguished by his special diligence. By the way, I received a textbook on philosophy, from which a diligent student studied this science. The book was preserved in amazing cleanliness, and only here and there, in his beautiful handwriting, were notes made on what he read: it is clear that he assimilated everything seriously and deeply. But, in addition to the required subjects, Ivan Ilyich also read the Holy Fathers. He especially loved the works of St. John Chrysostom. Sometimes, while sitting reading his teachings, he suddenly began to clap his hands to Saint Chrysostom: he was so amazed by the beauty and depth of the oratory of the Great Universal Teacher. At this time, his father was no longer alive, and the young student, in order to help his mother and sisters, became a scribe in the office of the Theological Academy and sent the small allowance he received to his homeland. Here his beautiful hereditary handwriting came in handy. And the office premises, closed to others, gave the serious student an even greater opportunity to study in solitude his education and especially the Holy Fathers. Reading now (1948) Chrysostom and Father John, you clearly see how close they are, especially in matters of wealth, poverty, love, communion, and repentance. Apparently, he did not have any particularly close relationships or friendships with his comrades, much less cheerful friendly parties. Like the ancient Saint Basil the Great, he was respected and even feared by the students: he had no time for fun and no time for idle talk. Study, office and self-education took up all his time and attention. But in such silence and study, the spirit of parental faith grew in him, strengthened by the Word of God, enlightened, moreover, by Orthodox science and the holy fathers, and in general and in particular, nurtured by the Holy Orthodox Church. Towards the end of the academy, he first had a desire to take on the feat of missionary work in the monastic rank. But, taking a closer look at the surrounding life of the capital, he saw that there was no end to the end of pastoral and spiritual work around him. Therefore, I changed my mind about my first decision and settled on pastoring. As you know, the priest had to first marry the girl: there were almost no celibate pastors at that time; Yes, this, in general, is both more correct and wiser. At this time, the archpriest of St. Andrew's Cathedral, Father Konstantin, died in the city of Kronstadt; and he left behind an adult daughter, Elizabeth. According to old customs, especially if the deceased left orphans, the parish was transferred to the candidate who married the orphaned daughter. The custom is also good. So John and Elizabeth got married. But from the very beginning of their life together, the young husband begged his wife to live in virginity, like brother and sister. The history of the Church knows similar examples, albeit few. Sergiev also knew about them, but it was not they who resolved such a difficult issue, but a pure chaste soul and the strong will of the future shepherd. He wanted to devote himself entirely to serving God and his neighbors. If monasticism has already been rejected, then one must preserve virginity during marriage. Everyone understands what a difficult task the young student took upon himself. But he raised it boldly. The young wife did not accept celibacy in marriage so easily. Tradition testifies that she even filed a complaint against her husband with the diocesan bishop. But the young priest persuaded her to voluntarily agree with him: - Lisa! There are enough happy families without you and me. And we will give ourselves entirely to God and our neighbors. And she finally agreed. I personally saw her in the house during the life of Father John. During one visit to my father, a tall, gray-haired old woman, covered in old wrinkles, came out to meet us when my bell rang. I saw her for the first time. - Is Father at home? – I asked her. “Yes, Brother John is at home,” she answered meekly and quietly went to report to him. Then I realized that this was the glorious “wife” - the mother of the world-famous “Father of Kronstadt”. How simple and quiet she was! And she was always in the shadows, with such fame as her “husband”! Ordained a priest, Father John devoted himself to his work with his characteristic energy: divine services, classes in schools, visiting parishioners in their homes, composing sermons, home prayers, doing good to the poor - all this took him both time and energy. Soon he began to write down his special thoughts in a diary, under the title: “My life in Christ.” Divine services became more and more frequent; and he finally began to perform the liturgy daily: it became the need of his soul. All this gradually created a reputation about him as a completely exceptional shepherd. They began to invite him more often to private services in homes, especially where there was some kind of grief, sick people, etc. And miracles began to happen through his prayers. But there was one special moment in this last type of service. They invited him to serve a prayer service for the health of the sick. According to his custom, he served firmly and with faith. But one of his admirers who was present here said that the priest did not pray as he should, and as he could pray. He should pray with great boldness, with undoubted hope that what he asks will be fulfilled, and not simply, as everyone else prays. These words - by the priest’s own admission - had an exceptional effect on him: he heard the voice of God in them - and from that time on he began to pray more boldly, as if personally standing before God and “demanding” from Him mercy, mercy and help to the unfortunate, suffering, poor earthly children of the Heavenly Father. There were many miracles in his life. Nobody knows their score. But the entire Orthodox and even heterodox world knows the Kronstadt Wonderworker. And in his diary he himself openly testifies more than once that the Lord worked miracles through him. Therefore, it becomes clear why they began to call him to all the places where there was need, grief, suffering. And first of all, they began to invite him to the multimillion-dollar St. Petersburg. But numerous groups of pilgrims came and went from all over Russia; hundreds of requests for prayers or advice flowed through the telegraph every day. His fame grew more and more. And they began to call him to other cities: Moscow, Kharkov, Kazan, Kiev, Vilno, Ufa, etc. The Royal Family also knew him. When Tsar Alexander III fell ill, the great man of prayer was summoned to the Crimea, to the Livadia Palace. The king received him with respect and love. Father John served the Liturgy and gave communion to the sick man. And although the Tsar’s days were numbered, through the priest’s prayers he received some relief. Finally, his fame grew to such an extent that cells of his special admirers and admirers were formed in different places in Russia, who even reached the point of sectarian enthusiasm that the priest is the incarnation of God himself. Such sects called themselves “Johnnites” after the priest’s name. Church measures had to be taken against them. And Father John himself publicly and in print condemned these madmen, but this did not always help... The days of revolution were approaching. Father gave his speeches against those who instigated it. He especially denounced Leo Tolstoy for his godless and anti-Christian thoughts and propaganda. But his church glory rose to such a height that Tsar Nicholas II appointed Father John a member of the Holy Synod: the only reward. But Father John was so busy and considered himself unworthy to sit among the bishops that he did not take advantage of his position and never took part in the meetings of the Holy Synod. Time did its job. Father John was approaching the end of his eighties. Shortly before his death, he suffered from illness. And on December 20, 1908, he gave his holy soul to God. Like a thunderclap resounded throughout Russia. But this will be discussed later. And now let’s add that a few months later, his spiritual “sister”, the servant of God Elizabeth, also quietly rested. I usually remember them together. Probably already in the second, and not the first year of my student life (that is, in 1904), I managed to go to my father. Why not the first time? – naturally, the reader will ask. Yes, it's worth asking about this. This is explained by the general spiritual, or rather, non-spiritual, state of Russia. Now, after the shocks of the revolution, it is customary for many to praise the past. Yes, there were a lot of wonderful things. But here’s the problem: we ourselves didn’t want to notice it. So it was with Father John. His name was famous all over the world. And we, the students, knew about it. And now we live near Kronstadt: in an hour or two we could be visiting Father John... But we, students, had no thought about it. What kind of mystery? It must be admitted that our religious appearance continued to be still brilliant, but our spirit was very weakened. And the “spiritual” became worldly. What, for example, were we, new students, interested in at first? We spent weeks visiting museums, climbing to the very top of the Isaac dome, visiting theaters, and making acquaintances with family houses where people knew how to dance. There was very little interest in the lectures: only two or three “on duty” people attended to take notes on the professors and so that there was no complete emptiness in the classrooms. Services were also attended at will. And only a small group bought themselves tables and kerosene lamps with lampshades; we placed them not in “entertaining” rooms, where there was no silence, but in classrooms, along the walls. According to a firmly established tradition, it was no longer allowed to speak here. In this silence, everyone studied their favorite subject: some with the Holy Fathers, some with Babylonian excavations, some with political literature (there were very few of these). And a group of praying mantises also formed; these also went to everyday services: in the morning - at Liturgy, and in the evening - to Vespers and Matins. This group was headed by the rector of the academy himself, then Bishop Sergius (later the patriarch), and the inspector Archimandrite Theophan (who died as a refugee in France). But there were literally only a few here. And student life went past religious interests. There is absolutely no need to think that theological schools were nurseries for apostates, atheists, and renegades. There were also only a few of these. And they were afraid to show their atheism even in front of their comrades, because we all knew each other well and did not attach any serious value to these atheists. But much more dangerous was the internal enemy: religious indifference. Most of us studied not for the priesthood, but to get positions as teachers, sometimes as officials, and only ten percent went into the pastorate, that is, for fifty to sixty people in the course, some five or six people. With such indifference in general, and to pastoring in particular, the indifference of students to the All-Russian luminary, Father John, should also be understandable. And then revolutionary times came: students were interested in politics, strikes; and Father John ended up on the “board” of the right: he was already out of time. And even the professors, more responsible people than we young people, were not at all interested in Father Kronstadt. One day, as a choir director, I had to start a conversation with the most learned professor, Archpriest Orlov, about theology. I referred to Father John. And he ironically told me: - Well, what kind of theologian is this?! I had to stop talking. There was a certain part of the capital's clergy who, together with their flocks, revered Father John. He was even more revered by the clergy in the provinces. But the most important admirer - as always - was our so-called simple people. Not paying any attention to the higher-ups, he walked, and rode, and sailed to Kronstadt for thousands and thousands of miles. By that time, the division between the people and the intelligentsia, and partly also the clergy, which could rather be classified as the intelligentsia than among the common people, had already been fully defined. This division was also in our schools... Moreover, even the bishops did not show much interest in Father John. I, however, know several names who revered him and tried to be in communication with him... But deep down in their souls, both bishops and priests felt the height of the priest. Eyewitnesses told me how the huge hall of the Noble Assembly, headed by three metropolitans, was waiting for Father John, who had promised to come to the spiritual concert. And when he entered there, thousands of people stood up, in awe that was stunning to the point of tears, as one person. The bishops kissed him, offered to sit next to him in the place prepared for him... And the concert began. Among the deep admirers of Father John was Archbishop Sergius of Finland, later the Patriarch of All Rus'. At that time (1908–1910) I was his personal secretary. And I remember that he started a custom both in Vyborg and in the Yaroslavl courtyard - to read the words of the priest every day instead of any teachings. And one of the monks, Father V-fiy, read us his simple but Orthodox conversations. This was already the beginning of glorification. And another theologian, Archimandrite Theophan, put his works along with the holy fathers and advised them to be studied as seriously as the ancient fathers. But we, students and professors, were not interested. God, how sad! How embarrassing now! And now we are crying from our poverty and from petrified insensibility. No, not all was well in the Church either. We became those about whom it is said in the Apocalypse: “Since you are neither cold nor hot, I will vomit you out of My mouth...” The times soon came, and many of us were vomited even from our Motherland... We did not value its shrines. What you sow is what you reap. That’s why I didn’t go to Kronstadt for the first year, but for the second year, together with two other comrades, juniors in the course. It was a cold November. But there was almost no snow. The cab drivers also rode in cabs. We arrived at the hotel of the “House of Diligence”, created by Father John. There we, as academy students, were received with attention. In the morning we had to get up early to be at the church at four o'clock. We were taken to the altar of the cathedral. St. Andrew's Cathedral probably accommodated five thousand people. And it was already full. In the altar, besides us, there were several other clergy and several secular people. Matins was started by one of Father John's assistants. And soon the priest in a fur coat entered through the narrow right side door of the altar - a gift from admirers. Having given her into the hands of one of the guards (there were many of them in the cathedral, as we will see), he, without looking at anyone, without greeting anyone, quickly and decisively walked up to the throne and just as quickly fell to his knees in front of it... I don’t remember: did he cross himself this time? Afterwards I noticed that he fell on his face more than once without crossing himself: obviously, this was what his fiery soul demanded. Sometimes, instead of a cross, he clasped his hands, and sometimes crossed himself. It is clear that for him the form had no binding meaning, as it should be for people who are burning in spirit: “man is not for the Sabbath, but the Sabbath is for man,” said the Lord. Of course, this right does not belong to us, ordinary and weak people, but to those strengthened in the grace of God; Therefore, no one should artificially imitate such giants... After this, the priest turned to those present at the altar and greeted us all very affectionately, giving a blessing to the laity. Then he quickly broke away from us and energetically walked towards the altar. There was already a whole stack of telegrams received during the day and night from all over Rus'. Father could not read them here right away. Therefore, with the same fervor, he fell in front of the altar, laid his holy hands on all these telegrams, lowered his head to them and began to secretly pray to the All-Seeing Lord to grant mercy to the petitioners... What was then done with these telegrams, I personally do not know: probably the secretarial persons sent answers to the addresses, according to the general instructions given by the priest. On special occasions, he himself composed texts for telegrams. But, in fact, the main thing was not in these answers, but in that fiery prayer that he offered before the altar or in other places where his requests captured him... Meanwhile, Matins continued to proceed as usual. After the Six Psalms, during the Great Litany, the priest, wearing only his stole, quickly went out to the right choir. This time it seemed to him that there was not enough light. And he, calling one of the church servants, took some money from his pocket and said out loud: Obviously, the semi-darkness of the church did not correspond to its fiery spirit: God is the God of lights! God of glory and bliss! - and therefore Father John sent for candles... The time has come to read the canons. According to the Charter, it is necessary to read two successive canons of the day of the week; and beyond this, the third canon is in honor of the saint whose memory was celebrated on that day. It was Wednesday. And, as I remember now, the memory of St. Alypius was celebrated on November 26th. And how the father read it! Not at all the way we, ordinary clergy, read: that is, smoothly, without expressions, in a melodious recitative. And we do this absolutely correctly, according to church teaching since ancient times: our reverence for the Lord and the consciousness of our own unworthiness do not allow us to be bold in reading; the dispassionateness of an even, calm, reverent performance of worship is more appropriate for our modesty. It is no coincidence that subordinates generally do not talk to their superiors casually or freely, but “respectfully report” in an even tone. This is especially noticeable in a military environment, where soldiers respond to their superiors, like church recitative, on “the same notes.” “...the law was not laid down,” says the Apostle Paul, “for the righteous...” And to Father John - with his burning energy, thundering faith; with thousands of people thirsting for his bold prayer; with their awareness of the needs, grief, sorrows, sins of these simple children of God; Even with the enormity of the church itself, which required a strong voice, Father John could not pray the way we pray. And he prayed extremely loudly, and most importantly: boldly. He talked with the Lord, the Mother of God and the saints... Father could neither enter nor exit through the church, as we all do - both priests and bishops. We can do this; but he couldn’t. The people would then rush towards him en masse and in a rush could trample him. I had to hear about a similar incident long ago, how the crowd knocked him down, tore his cassock into shreds “for blessing” and barely left him alive. And therefore it was necessary to choose a different path: they brought him from home by cab (and not in a carriage, as others write) to the garden, although it was only about a five-minute walk. And they took me away in a cab. There was not a soul in the garden: the high gates were locked. Father quickly sat down on the carriage; the cab driver immediately rushed through the garden to the gate. And the servants were already standing there, they immediately opened the exit, and the horse raced straight ahead, although there were people standing there waiting for the priest to “look at least once more.” And only out of fear of getting under the hooves or under the wheels, people involuntarily moved apart, and the priest flew “to freedom.” But even here there was an incident. Before my eyes - we followed him from the altar through the garden - some peasant rushed straight into the middle of the carriage, apparently wanting to receive a personal blessing. But while driving fast, he was instantly knocked off his feet and fell to the ground. I was afraid for him and, covering my face with my hands, shouted instinctively: And suddenly, to my fear, I hear a completely calm answer: - Don't be afraid, don't be afraid! Father's wheels do not crush, but heal! I opened my eyes: it was said by a thin old lady, really calm. The daredevil got up unharmed, shook off the dust and went on his way, and the people went on theirs: as if nothing had happened. I don’t know where the priest went: they said he went to St. Petersburg. In ancient times, confession was open: the sinner repented before the entire Church. But then this custom was replaced by the current secret confession. The reason for this was that not everyone had the strength of humility to scourge himself publicly in front of everyone; and besides, such a confession led innocent souls into temptation. But there are circumstances that sometimes force us to use general confessions. The main reason here is the huge number of communicants, when it is impossible for not only one, but even several priests to cope. One of two things remains: either not to allow those who wish to receive communion, and this is painful and unsaving; or make a general confession for everyone. What to choose? In ancient times, Christians received communion without confession at all and lived holy lives, except on special occasions. And this practice still exists in the Greek, Serbian, Syrian Churches. I have personally observed this in some parishes in Yugoslavia; I saw in the Crimea when Asian refugees from the Turks prayed in the chapel of the Simferopol Cathedral, and at one time their priest measuredly walked around the orderly rows and gave communion to everyone in a row, without confession. I heard from eyewitnesses how, after the liturgy, a humble Greek priest walked through the village with the Holy Chalice and gave communion to those who, due to economic obstacles, were not in the church: and these - mostly women - ran out of their huts into the street in what they were wearing, bowed to the ground and with childlike faith partook of the Holy Divine Mysteries. The picture of such primitive pure faith was touching. These and other examples show that the Church allows the possibility of receiving communion without confession and even considers this a normal procedure for good Christians; therefore, at every Liturgy she invites all the “faithful”: It has always been especially difficult for me to begin to remember the ever-memorable Father John: he was too tall; and I am a sinner. And only for the benefit of others I begin to describe my personal impressions of him. I begin to write in the hospital (in the city of Brooklyn), lying from illness. I will write down what remains in my memory from the books I read and from what I saw personally. His father, Ilya Sergiev, was a simple psalm-reader in the village of Sura, Pinezhsky district, Arkhangelsk province. His mother's name was Theodora. As far as can be judged from various sources, the father was a man of a balanced, meek disposition, and the mother, undoubtedly, was an extremely energetic woman, with the look of an eagle. The father had a delicate calligraphic handwriting, which was passed on to his son, but gusts of strength passed from the mother into the handwriting of the future lamp. Probably already in the second, and not the first year of my student life (that is, in 1904), I managed to go to my father. Why not the first time? – naturally, the reader will ask. Yes, it's worth asking about this. This is explained by the general spiritual, or rather, non-spiritual, state of Russia. Now, after the shocks of the revolution, it is customary for many to praise the past. Yes, there were a lot of wonderful things. But here’s the problem: we ourselves didn’t want to notice it. So it was with Father John. His name was famous all over the world. And we, the students, knew about it. And now we live near Kronstadt: in an hour or two we could be visiting Father John... But we, students, had no thought about it. What kind of mystery? It must be admitted that our religious appearance continued to be still brilliant, but our spirit was very weakened. And the “spiritual” became worldly. What, for example, were we, new students, interested in at first? We spent weeks visiting museums, climbing to the very top of the Isaac dome, visiting theaters, and making acquaintances with family houses where people knew how to dance. There was very little interest in the lectures: only two or three “on duty” people attended to take notes on the professors and so that there was no complete emptiness in the classrooms. Services were also attended at will. And only a small group bought themselves tables and kerosene lamps with lampshades; we placed them not in “entertaining” rooms, where there was no silence, but in classrooms, along the walls. According to a firmly established tradition, it was no longer allowed to speak here. In this silence, everyone studied their favorite subject: some with the Holy Fathers, some with Babylonian excavations, some with political literature (there were very few of these). And a group of praying mantises also formed; these also went to everyday services: in the morning - at Liturgy, and in the evening - to Vespers and Matins. This group was headed by the rector of the academy himself, then Bishop Sergius (later the patriarch), and the inspector Archimandrite Theophan (who died as a refugee in France). But there were literally only a few here. And student life went past religious interests. There is absolutely no need to think that theological schools were nurseries for apostates, atheists, and renegades. There were also only a few of these. And they were afraid to show their atheism even in front of their comrades, because we all knew each other well and did not attach any serious value to these atheists. But much more dangerous was the internal enemy: religious indifference. Most of us studied not for the priesthood, but to get positions as teachers, sometimes as officials, and only ten percent went into the pastorate, that is, for fifty to sixty people in the course, some five or six people. In ancient times, confession was open: the sinner repented before the entire Church. But then this custom was replaced by the current secret confession. The reason for this was that not everyone had the strength of humility to scourge himself publicly in front of everyone; and besides, such a confession led innocent souls into temptation. But there are circumstances that sometimes force us to use general confessions. The main reason here is the huge number of communicants, when it is impossible for not only one, but even several priests to cope. One of two things remains: either not to allow those who wish to receive communion, and this is painful and unsaving; or make a general confession for everyone. What to choose? In ancient times, Christians received communion without confession at all and lived holy lives, except on special occasions. And this practice still exists in the Greek, Serbian, Syrian Churches. I have personally observed this in some parishes in Yugoslavia; I saw in the Crimea when Asian refugees from the Turks prayed in the chapel of the Simferopol Cathedral, and at one time their priest measuredly walked around the orderly rows and gave communion to everyone in a row, without confession. I heard from eyewitnesses how, after the liturgy, a humble Greek priest walked through the village with the Holy Chalice and gave communion to those who, due to economic obstacles, were not in the church: and these - mostly women - ran out of their huts into the street in what they were wearing, bowed to the ground and with childlike faith partook of the Holy Divine Mysteries. The picture of such primitive pure faith was touching. These and other examples show that the Church allows the possibility of receiving communion without confession and even considers this a normal procedure for good Christians; therefore, at every Liturgy, she invites all the “faithful”: - “With the fear of God and faith, approach” to receive communion... Before we started. Saint Basil the Great says that in his time people received communion three and four times a week. And Chrysostom answers: – Don’t ask: how many times; but tell me: how are you getting started? Of course, the current method of fasting and receiving communion once a year also has its own meaning, so that believers approach holy communion with great fear, reverence, preparation, purification, repentance, and responsibility, precisely with the fear of God. But this custom is not at all a law, mandatory in all cases. During the difficult period of the last thirty years, our Church allowed those who wished to receive weekly communion, provided that it was blessed by the local confessor for those who wished. And it’s normal - before each communion, everyone needs to confess. And if there were many such people willing, then the confessor was allowed to make a general confession. But at the same time, it was suggested that anyone who has any special spiritual needs should then approach the confessor and open his soul to him in order to receive special permission. This was sometimes done in different parishes. But I want to tell you how Father John’s general confession took place in front of me. With youthful simplicity we addressed him at the altar: - Father! We would like to see your general confession. He answered with simplicity and love: - I just did it yesterday. But for your sake, even now I will show you how it is done by me. Before communion, Father John went out through the Royal Doors to the pulpit and preached approximately the following sermon. I present it in extract. – In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen! – he began with force. - King and psalmist David said: God came from heaven to the sons of men, see, do you understand or seek God? All who have turned aside, together with indecent things have been, do not do good, not even one (Ps. 53:3-4). In Russian: “The Lord looked from Heaven...” - etc. Father translated the psalm into Russian. Then he addressed everyone with the indication that in our time, everyone has fallen into sins... And he began to list them. Sobs, sobs, and then exclamations began to be heard in the church: - Father! Pray for us! Then the priest exclaimed to the whole church: A general cry of repentance arose in the church: everyone shouted out loud about their sins; no one thought about their neighbor; everyone looked only at the priest and into their souls... And they cried, and screamed, and sobbed... This continued for more than one minute... Then Father John gave a sign with his hand for the believers to quiet down. Pretty soon the noise died down. And the priest continued his sermon: "You see: how sinful we are all. But our Heavenly Father does not want the destruction of His children. And for the sake of our salvation, He did not spare His Only Begotten Son, He sent Him into the world for our redemption, so that for His sake He could forgive all our sins. And not only forgive us, but even invite us to His Divine feast! For this He gave us a great Miracle, gave us the Holy Body and the Holy Spirit for food and drink. The Blood of His Son Himself, our Lord Jesus Christ. This wonderful feast is celebrated at every Liturgy, according to the word of the Lord Himself: “Take, eat. This is My Body!” and: “Drink from it (the Cup), all of you, this is My Blood.” As in the parable, the father lovingly accepts his sinful but repentant prodigal son and arranges a rich feast for him, rejoicing in his salvation, so now the Heavenly Father every day institutes the Divine Meal for each repentant - holy communion. Come with full faith and hope in the mercy of our Father, for the sake of the intercession of His Son! Come and approach holy communion with fear and faith. Now everyone bow your heads; and I, as a priest, by the power of God given to us, will read absolution over you.” Everyone bowed their heads in reverent silence; and Father John raised his stole into the air above everyone and read the usual prayer of permission, making the sign of the cross over the entire church with the words “I forgive and permit” ... “in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit” ... Then communion began. To finish with “general confession,” I will recall several details and incidents in connection with it. When I was already a hieromonk, an old pilgrim I knew and an admirer of Father John came to me and told me the following: - I stood with the priest in the cathedral; and he told us to repent. I told him my sins out loud. And suddenly my neighbor hit me, in some kind of anger, on the cheek. I remembered the Gospel of Christ in order to turn my other cheek to the one who struck me. And he hit me on the other one too. – Why are you telling me about this? He was confused about the answer. I thought: “He probably wanted to boast about his supposed humility.” - And then it became somewhat clear why God allowed him to suffer shame twice. It turned out that he came to me with a question: “Did I do well to turn the other cheek to him?” “I don’t think so,” I answered. “It would be more humbling for you to think that you have not yet grown to such a height.” And it would be even better if you didn’t offend your neighbor in any way and didn’t drive him to the point of irritation and the first slap in the face. “How so?” he didn’t expect this turn. – We, imperfect ones, can upset our neighbors even with our piety. Demons are good at distinguishing between true and false holiness. They are afraid of the first, and they mock the second. Remember, the book of Acts tells how the demon dealt with the seven sons of the Jewish high priest Sceva, who conjured those possessed by the name of the Lord Jesus: the evil spirit said: I know Jesus, and I know Paul, but who are you? And a man in whom there was an evil spirit rushed at them, and, having overcome them, took such power over them that they, naked and beaten, ran out of that house. And the spirits obeyed the Apostle Paul (Acts 19:13–16). Therefore, I think,” I tell him, “it is better for us sinners to hide our goodness, if there is any.” Here is my opinion for you. The victim fell silent, but I was not sure whether he agreed with me. He, apparently, wanted to better remain with a good opinion of himself and “suffer” for the truth, than to recognize himself as unworthy of either one or the other. Yes, and in “good deeds” everyone needs to know their own measure. Good without measure is not good, teaches Saint Isaac the Syrian. When we were returning that same evening from Kronstadt to Petrograd, some simpleton from the pilgrims, who was at the same Liturgy with Father John, asked me on the ship: “I heard something, the priest called us all for lunch, but there was no lunch?!” Huh? I understood the naivety of this visitor’s soul and calmly explained to him that by “feast” the priest meant holy communion. And he repeated the lesson to the villager. He understood and calmed down: - That's it! And I thought he called me to dinner. Many years later, already abroad, I myself had the opportunity to be a participant in such a confession. But I must frankly admit that it did not produce on me the same effect, strength and peace that almost always accompany a separate, personal, secret, ordinary confession. And Father John had the special power of God. Miracles of Father John of Kronstadt The purpose of these notes is partly to write about what I personally saw or at least heard from reliable witnesses. I’ll write about this. His miracles were known throughout Russia. One mother brought her son, who suffered from eye problems. She asked me to take them to Father John. Father received them with me. The mother told him about her ten-year-old son. Father John took him, placed him between his knees and began, praying internally, to stroke his closed pupils with his large fingers. Afterwards, the mother said, the son never complained about his eyes. Another case was told to me by a son about his own father. I have already published about him in a short sheet about Father John. I remember again. My father was from a wealthy merchant family, the Shustins. His son was later a student of theological courses organized by me in Yugoslavia (Bela Tserkva). He was a pure and conscientious person, incapable of deception. Now he is a priest. And this is what he told me. My father fell ill with throat consumption. No doctors could help. Death was at the door. It was just in time for Christmas. In the past, they were preparing for the Christmas tree, but now there was no time for it: everyone was waiting for the end from day to day. The patient could no longer speak out loud. They sent for Father John as their last hope. And he was the successor of one of the merchant’s children. The priest arrived and asked why they didn’t send for him before? Near the patient’s bed there was a table with now useless medicines. He pushed it aside with his foot, the bubbles falling onto the floor. – Do you believe in the Lord Jesus Christ with all your heart? “I believe,” the patient whispered. – Do you believe that He is free and powerful to work miracles even now? The patient opened it. The priest blew into his throat three times with a prayer and said: - In three days, come to me in Kronstadt: you will talk and take communion. And he left. How to transport such a sick person to Kronstadt in winter? To certain death? But the patient ordered the priest’s command to be carried out. They took him and brought him... “And after that,” the son finished, “the father lived another twenty-five years.” The third incident occurred in Paris in 1933, on the second of April. On one Sunday it was planned to perform the baptism of an adult Jewish woman. She expressed a desire for this to be done after the Liturgy in an empty church... Everyone left. Only the clergy and successors remained. Besides them, I see two more middle-aged women. “Probably,” I think, “these are acquaintances of the person being baptized.” Just in case, I go up to them and ask if they know this Jewish woman? “Which one?” - “And this is the one we will baptize now.” - “We didn’t even know about it.” - “Why did you stay?” - “We have our own business for you.” - “Well, in that case, wait until the end of the baptism.” Crossed. They called it Euphrosyne. Dress her. They took me away. I approached two women. And this is what they said. One of them was the wife of the Cossack general O. And the other was the wife of a colonel: I have now forgotten her last name. And that night she had an extraordinary dream. “I used to be a believer when I was in high school. And then - higher courses, fellowship: I became an “unbeliever” without any particular reason, so-so! Then - marriage, revolution, evacuation: there is no time for faith. And I just stopped being interested in all this. And I didn’t suffer. But now I see a dream. A priest with a golden cross on his chest appears to me, and next to him is an old man, all in white. The priest menacingly says: “I am Father John of Kronstadt, and this is Father Seraphim of Sarov.” Then he sternly told me: “You have completely forgotten God.” This is sinful! Return to faith again. Otherwise you will feel bad!” - and they disappeared. I woke up. In the morning I ran to my friend General O. And she is a believer. And she showed me the icon of Seraphim, and then she found a picture of Father John. I saw them exactly in a dream. We now ask you to come to my apartment and serve a prayer service there. I took the singer, Br. G., and immediately fulfilled their request. Apart from these cases, I heard dozens of similar stories about Father John, but I forgot them, and did not write them down at the time. A long time ago I heard a story written down by Father John himself in his Diary. As is known, he returned from St. Petersburg to Kronstadt late; sometimes almost midnight. After prayers I went to bed. “If you pray well,” he advised in his Diary, “you will gain two or three hours of good sleep.” In the morning, no later than three o’clock, he was already getting up to read the morning rule for communion. This book - like everything else in his small apartment - was always in a certain place. But this time she definitely disappeared. "I searched for her for a long time in vain. And suddenly I noticed that during all this time I had completely forgotten about God. And, stopping, I said to myself: “Lord! Forgive me that because of the creature I forgot about You, the Creator!” And immediately the book was found.” I will no longer search for miracles in my memory. Miracles are not at all the main evidence of the height or holiness of a person. The Apostle Paul tells the Corinthians that if I perform miracles but do not have love, then I am nothing. So I can say: miracles without holiness are also nothing. The most important miracle was Father John himself! To go through such a life, to do good with your prayers, to live unceasingly in God - this is the highest miracle! And besides, how to live? While in Paris, I once visited the Russian library in a Catholic monastery. And there I came across the Diary of Father John. Having started reading it, I soon came across its entry on New Year’s Day, 1898. He writes thanks to God for many things. And at the end he wrote words that could shock anyone: he thanks God for his immaculate life!!! “For an immaculate life!” God, God! Who among us could dare to not only say, but even think such words?! Literally no one. And he spoke and wrote it down forever... How old was he then? Already seventy!.. This is a miracle! Live to old age in “purity.” The miracle and its worship, especially the daily Liturgy. The point is not just that he served them daily, but that he grew spiritually to this church height - to the Liturgy. Liturgy is the pinnacle and focus of all Christianity; Liturgy is the completeness and completion of all other services. And if someone has reached this peak and lived by it (and not just served), that means he has reached the peak of Church life! This is an even greater miracle! Man was not only preserved from sins, but also reached the heights of heaven, for Father John considered and called the Liturgy “Heaven on Earth.” And if we knew nothing more about Father John other than this height of his Liturgical service, then we could say about him: “He was a holy servant of the Church of God!” As far as was known, although the priest was sick more than once, it was relatively few and rare. When necessary, he consulted doctors. The Apostle Paul even gave advice to his disciple Timothy when he was sick: for the sake of stomach and your frequent ailments, drink a little wine with water... But Father John did not always obey the doctors’ orders. For example, one day the doctors ordered him to eat meat during fasting: otherwise he would face bad consequences. He refused. The doctors insisted. Then the priest said that he would ask for his mother’s blessing by telegraph. This spiritual eagle responded with a telegram: “It’s better to die and not break the fast!” Of course, Father John obeyed his mother unquestioningly. I think that such an imperative order could have been given by one of a thousand, or perhaps millions of mothers! And it is not surprising that she gave birth to a man of such fortitude. The history of the great saints shows us that they also had great mothers: Saints Basil, Gregory, Chrysostom, Augustine were born from glorious mothers, Saint Sergius of Radonezh, Saint Tikhon of Zadonsk, Saint Seraphim of Sarov were raised by strong and holy in spirit mothers. Filaret of Moscow and Theophan the Recluse were born from pious parents. And in general, if we look through all the Chetya-Minea (I did this once), we will see that either both parents of the saints were godly, or one of them, mostly the mother, and sometimes the grandmother. And only in very exceptional cases did holy children have bad parents; for God everything is possible! No wonder it is said in the Word of God that for the piety of parents the Lord blesses their descendants up to the twentieth generation! And he punishes them for their sins - up to the third and fourth generation (Ex. 20). But something else always surprised me about Father John: his amazing strength in carrying out the incredible work of shepherding. Just think: from three o'clock in the morning until eleven or twelve at night he was busy. Busy with people. We ourselves, from our own experience, know how difficult it is to tolerate people in general. Man is a heavy creature! For it is sinful, broken, corrupted. If the Lord Himself once exclaimed: "...how long will I be with you? How long will I bear with you?" – then it’s all the more difficult for us. And we like to retire from people at least for a while, to “take a break” from them. Therefore, they build separate houses, separate rooms, close the doors; they work in offices, but are in a hurry to go home, and even at home they ask “not to disturb” them. But Father John had neither privacy nor rest almost around the clock! And who have you been with? With the sick, with the unfortunate, with the suffering... This is especially difficult. In Paris, I sometimes had to visit insane asylums that accommodated up to five thousand patients. In one of them, the head doctor, a practicing Catholic, told me in his office – I ask you: pray for me! With these unfortunate people, it seems to me that I myself am starting to go crazy! Just think what kind of effort in general, and especially prayer, people demanded from Father John: after all, almost everyone was waiting for a miracle! Easy to say! And the Gospel says that after healing the bleeding woman, Christ felt “strength emanating” from Him." Probably something similar happens in other miracle workers. What enormous strength was needed to endure all this every day, months, years, until he was almost eighty years old! This is what amazes most about Father John. But Divine grace supported him in such a continuous feat. The service of daily Liturgies, unceasing heartfelt prayer, invoking God's power during prayer services - this strengthened and probably renewed his natural strength. In addition, I think he was pleased that he was constantly among believers, that is, among the best people! But what a struggle the “angel of Satan” waged against him! He constantly writes about this in his Diary! And it is not surprising that the priest from time to time went on vacation: either to his homeland, or to his friends... Even the apostles, after preaching, needed this, and Christ Himself took them to a place secluded from the people. And his prayer itself required a huge expenditure of energy. Serving is easy for us ordinary people; but to pray the way he prayed requires strength! Or give sermons: we explain to the listeners evenly, like a lesson in a classroom, but every word he said was on fire. Once in Serbia, an old and sensible pilgrim asked me (in Serbian): - Father Vladyka! What does it mean? One will say “God”, and “nema nishta” (there is nothing); and the other will also say “God”, and “the fire is burning” (the fire will light up)? So with Father John, everything was always with “fire”. And it was precisely because of this that his prayers were strong and his sermons were effective. The latter, in their content and from an oratorical point of view, did not represent anything extraordinary. As a teacher at the St. Petersburg Academy, I once assigned a topic for a course report: to identify a preacher by his sermon. And I hid the author, of course. This time, three speakers gave the following feedback on the sermon: - The author is a priest of some provincial town. Nothing special. - An ordinary preacher. Ordinary sermon. – No, I feel the author is a special person. But I can't understand him. – But this is the great Father John of Kronstadt! – to the general surprise of the entire audience, I said. Then the question arose, why are his sermons so simple and ordinary? The answer was clear: the power of his words was not in the originality of his thoughts and not in their oratorical presentation, but in the strength of his spirit: his words breathed fire... Just as the Serb said: one will say “God” - and “there is nothing”; and the other will say the same word “God” - and “the fire has burned down.” The Apostle Paul also wrote, our strength is not in persuasive words, but in the manifestation of the spirit and power! And Father John spent colossal energy in his service to God and people. But despite all this, he lived to be almost eighty years old. According to King David, “if he is able,” that is, with special strength, a person can live eighty years. Everything comes to an end. Shortly before his death, he fell ill. Before that, I managed to be with him twice more. Once, when I was already a hieromonk, I was invited to serve him at the Liturgy. He presided. I stood before the throne on the left side. And as soon as he exclaimed with his usual power: “Blessed is the Kingdom of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit,” a clear consciousness pierced me like lightning, expressed in my mind in the following words: “God! What a spiritual giant he is!” And contemplating this with obviousness, I, in thought, closed my mouth with a missal. “What a giant.” Suddenly he extends his left hand to me, moves the book away from his lips, and says authoritatively: He probably saw through my secret thoughts about him. My last visit was approximately six months before his death. My colleague at the academy, Hieromonk Sh-m, and I visited Father John because of my friend’s illness. Father came out to us already weak. Having invited us to sit down, he asked us wearily: “And what do you want from me, an old man?” “Father,” I answered freely, forgive me for this, Lord! – if you were a simple old man, then Russia would not come to you. “Well, well,” he waved his hand, not wanting to argue. - Tell us something to save our souls. Then he picked up the cross that was hanging on my friend’s chest, and, looking at it, began to pray. Then he began to kiss him repeatedly and for a long time; he pressed him to his forehead and kissed him again. Then he did the same with my cross... All this happened silently for several minutes. Then he said: - Monks, monks! Don't look back! Remember Lot's wife! Then I asked him this question: - Father! Tell me, where do you get such ardent faith? - Faith? – he asked again and thought for a minute. Then he answered with firm clarity: “I lived in the Church!” – What is it like – you lived in the Church? – I asked. “Well,” he continued with some surprise at my question, “what does it mean to live in the Church?” I have always been involved in church life... I served the Liturgy... I loved reading liturgical books and menaions in church. Not the Chetii-Minea (Lives of the Saints), although they are also beautiful! – and the liturgical menaions, stichera, canons... Here! I lived in the Church! Unfortunately, I did not write down the entire conversation in detail at the time, but these words about the significance of the Church were engraved in my memory for the rest of my life. Having thanked the priest, we left... Soon my friend died at a young age. I... am still alive, by the grace of God. And I often remember his words... Father John's illness did not go away. We were waiting for the end. And on December 20 (Old Style) 1908, the priest died. This news instantly spread throughout Russia. He was buried in the convent he created in St. Petersburg, “on Karpovka.” I was unable to get into the church for the funeral service, and I walked far behind the coffin in an immense crowd of people. All movement here was stopped. But the hearts of thousands and thousands of people breathed: in one place they sang “Rest with the Saints,” another group began “Eternal Memory,” others began “Holy God” - a funeral... A great groan stood over these spiritual children of the priest. Sometimes I heard shouts: “We’ll never see such a father again!” - Dear father! Pray for us! And again the singing of a multitude of voices... It was difficult to hold back tears amid this general sadness and sobs. In the basement floor of the monastery church - light, lined with white marble - a white marble tomb was prepared on the floor. And here they laid the honest relics of the holy priest. Now, instead of Kronstadt, the pilgrimage “to Karpovka” began. Daily services... Regular funeral services. Miracles again. Universal veneration. The Holy Synod decided to consider the day of Father John’s death as a non-educational day in theological schools. The Tsar addressed Russia with a special manifesto - about his importance and veneration. And the people carried the memory of him in their hearts and wrote it down in “memories”... Thus began the glorification of the priest in the Church. And we won’t have to wait long for this to end with his canonization as a saint. Three years ago (1948) I was in Leningrad and learned that the monastery “on Karpovka” was closed, but everything there, including the tomb, remained untouched. Reverend Father John! Pray to God for us sinners! ...So I wrote down what I remembered about him. No matter how you describe it, it still cannot give such an impression of him as the living, authentic words of the priest himself... - “With the fear of God and faith, approach” communion... Before communion, Father John went out through the Royal Doors to the pulpit and delivered approximately the following sermon. I present it in extract. The purpose of these notes is partly to write about what I personally saw or at least heard from reliable witnesses. I’ll write about this. His miracles were known throughout Russia. One mother brought her son, who suffered from eye problems. She asked me to take them to Father John. Father received them with me. The mother told him about her ten-year-old son. Father John took him, placed him between his knees and began, praying internally, to stroke his closed pupils with his large fingers. Afterwards, the mother said, the son never complained about his eyes. “I used to be a believer when I was in high school. And then - higher courses, fellowship: I became an “unbeliever” without any particular reason, so-so! Then - marriage, revolution, evacuation: there is no time for faith. And I just stopped being interested in all this. And I didn’t suffer. But now I see a dream. A priest with a golden cross on his chest appears to me, and next to him is an old man, all in white. The priest says menacingly: “I am Father John of Kronstadt, and this is Father Seraphim of Sarov.” Then he sternly told me: “You have completely forgotten God.” This is sinful! Return to faith again. Otherwise you will feel bad!” - and they disappeared. I woke up. In the morning I ran to my friend General O. And she is a believer. And she showed me the icon of Seraphim, and then she found a picture of Father John. I saw them exactly in a dream. We now ask you to come to my apartment and serve a prayer service there. Reverend Father John! Pray to God for us sinners! ...So I wrote down what I remembered about him. No matter how you describe it, it still cannot give the same impression of him as the living, authentic words of the priest himself...