В. М. Из дневника студента. Два дня в Кронштадте

On the day of our arrival in Kronstadt, Father John was not at home: he was taken to St. Petersburg, and he should not be home until the first hour of the night. The next morning he had to introduce everyone who arrived. We regretted that Father John was not in the city. But what was to be done? The rest of the day was spent exploring the city, and the evening before bed in prayer, preparing for the great Sacraments of confession and Holy Communion. I will never forget this evening. And you can never forget him. It was already ten o'clock. The room was in twilight. The entire front corner, almost from the floor to the ceiling, and a significant part of the wall are lined with icons. This is almost an entire home iconostasis. Up to ten multi-colored lamps glow in front of the icons, illuminating the holy faces of the Pleasers of God. In the room, dimly lit by the light of lamps, there were up to fifty people who came to Father John and stayed with us in the same house. The rule was read by student hieromonk Father M. Sighs were heard here and there. Many knelt down. Some are crying quietly. It was the first hour of the night when our prayer ended. With inexplicable peace and tranquility in our souls, we went to bed so that early in the morning we would be in the church for the service, which would be performed by Father John himself. We all lay down on the floor of our small common room on clean beds prepared for us by the caring hostess A.T. And with such an economical arrangement, we could only barely fit everything here. And there was nothing to think about beds. True, we were cramped and not entirely comfortable, but everyone’s souls were peaceful and calm, and in this cramped space we slept such a deep sleep that we were not always able to fall asleep when we were in a more comfortable environment. They offered us excellent premises with all amenities, they offered us free of charge, but we decided to live opposite Father John. And our apartment was the only such apartment in this place. At almost four o'clock in the morning we were already on our feet. In another place, I would have gotten up with difficulty, with a pain in my head and a depressing mood at such an early hour. And here we jumped up vigorous, cheerful, animated, as if we had been sleeping for a very long time. After praying, we went to Matins. Along the streets we met here and there groups of people hurrying from their apartments to the cathedral, as if it were some kind of designated assembly point. Despite the fact that there was almost another hour left before the start of Matins, there were already a lot of people in the church. Everyone was in a hurry to arrive earlier in order to get into the church and take a better place, closer to the salt and the grille, so that from here they could see and hear everything clearly. We were already led into the altar with great difficulty. By the beginning of Matins, the huge church, accommodating more than seven thousand people, was completely full of people. The singers were in the choir, and the cathedral clergy also gathered. Everyone was looking forward to Father John. “I’ve arrived, I’ve arrived,” they whispered at the altar. Father John entered the church through the side doors made in the altar. He is usually taken to the church on the fastest horse, so that the people cannot stop and detain him on the way. At the doors of the church there are special guards who try to give Father John the opportunity to quickly get among the people into the church. If Father John had entered the church through the western doors through the people, then, it seems, he would never have reached the altar. For Father John's passage to the altar, a special place was fenced off along the wall along the length of the entire church with a lattice. But this didn’t help much, since he was constantly stopped here too. They said there was such a case once. Father John wanted to bless someone through the bars when he walked into the altar with this place. They immediately grabbed his hand and began to cover it with kisses, passing it to each other. If Father John had not been taken away from the people by force, it is difficult to say not only when he would have come to the altar, but also in what form he would have come there. It is known at least twice that his finger was bitten until it bled, with the clear intention of biting it off completely, either as a souvenir, or as a shrine... They say that sometimes parts were even torn off from his clothes. Father John amazed me the first time. He seemed to me to be of medium height, agile, lively, with a preoccupied and stern face. It was clear that this was an extraordinary person, similar to many people whom we meet at almost every step. Listening to his orders, one could call him a harsh and, perhaps, rude man. Having ascended to the altar, he began to warmly greet first his colleagues, and then the “lucky ones” who had the opportunity to see him so close. We were among the latter. - Hello, brothers, hello! - this is what he said, addressing us. Approaching him for blessing with fear and embarrassment, we did not even think about kissing. “Let’s be brotherly, let’s be brotherly, brotherly is better,” said the good father and, blessing us, kissed each of us. He did everything hastily and quickly. Having greeted us, he put on a red robe and began Matins. They say red is his favorite color. Everyone watched his every move with great attention. They found everything unusual about him. Everyone was struck first of all by his exclamations. He pronounced them abruptly, sharply, loudly, emphasizing well-known words and giving each of them a special meaning and meaning. This is not our ordinary pronunciation - monotonous, melodious, deathly, but living, deep, full of meaning and animation. It is clear from everything that this word flows from the depths of a pure, deeply believing soul, full of unshakable confidence, strength and inner power. This word is flesh, the word is life, the word is action. And he also prayed unusually. In the heat of religious passion and delight, he sometimes completely abandoned the sign of the cross. Father John either only bowed, or, with his hands folded on his chest, directed his gaze to the sky, or he stood kneeling for a long time without any movement. One moment in particular struck me during his prayer. One day, during Matins, he approached the altar, knelt before it, folded his hands crosswise on the altar, and bowed his head on them. Under his hands, it seemed, he had all kinds of notes asking him to remember the sick and the dead. I looked at him from behind the columns. Her hair fell in strands over her shoulders; the whole of it was illuminated by a weak morning light, barely breaking through the thickness of the morning northern fog. He remained in this position for about ten minutes. It seemed from the outside that he seemed to have died and in front of us there was only his body, abandoned, discarded by his soul, like some kind of clothing. At these moments I vividly remembered those pictures that depict how the soul, after being separated from the body, contemplates it from heaven. The body there really seems to be like clothing abandoned, discarded by the soul. Oh, what a prayer this is, what a most sacred moment... Man leaves the earth and ascends with his soul to heaven, the inhabitant of the earth penetrates into the Higher worlds, the limited understands the secrets of heaven, the carnal becomes spiritual, the weak is strengthened, the mourning is comforted, the strong becomes even stronger. Looking at Father John praying, my thoughts involuntarily transported me even to the Garden of Gethsemane and imagined the Savior praying there for us. And in the altar, this great Christian sanctuary, they did not give Father John peace. First one, then the other, at a convenient moment, approached him with various requests and needs. Knowing well that each of those in the altar came here with some kind of hot, urgent need, Father John himself sometimes approached first one, then the other. He will ask about need, grief, and give good advice. It seems he gave money to some people. He will caress one and pat another on the shoulder. I read the canon on the choir myself, as always. It was impossible not to pay attention to this reading. Tenderness, enthusiasm, firmness, hope, hope, joy, sadness, deep reverence - everything was heard in this wonderful reading. Father John reads, as if he were conversing, talking with the Savior, the Mother of God and the saints, as if they were here in front of him, and not there, somewhere in the heights invisible to us, in the superstellar, cloudy worlds. The voice is clear, sonorous, sharp. Pronunciation is articulate, distinct, abrupt. He will read one word in a tongue twister, another in a drawn-out manner almost syllable by syllable, the third he will emphasize and highlight. Not a single word was read by him without meaning or meaning. He pronounces words that are more important in thought and content, even addressing the people, so that people can more deeply comprehend what they are reading. At the same time, he himself, of course, is entirely focused on what he is reading. Nothing will distract his thoughts at this time. He seems to experience everything he reads. Experiences victories over sin and evil committed by holy people, experiences human weaknesses and falls, experiences times of God's favor and mercy towards fallen and lost people. Much of what you read, apparently, is somehow felt, relates directly to oneself. What is happening in his soul at this time can be judged even by his appearance. The soul of Father John is so imbued with the thoughts contained in the sacred chants he reads that he cannot restrain himself from making a wide variety of gestures. While reading, he constantly seems to be worried and seems restless. It is as if a blissful smile will shine on his face when he reads about the heavenly glory of God, the Mother of God and the holy saints of God. It’s as if a deep prayer begins to fall from his lips when he reads about weakness, sin and human failures. You hear, as it were, righteous anger, deep disgust, when the words “Satan” and “devil” appear in the canon. You hear tenderness, deep delight when he reads about the great feats, victories over sin that the holy martyrs and ascetics accomplished. Sometimes he leans his head towards the book itself; sometimes he shakes it so decisively, so opportunely, so victoriously, so wonderfully solemn. Changes tones often. Finally, during the singing of the irmos or litanies, when he himself is not singing with the singers, he kneels on one or both knees right there on the choir; covers his face with his hands and prays, prays. He prays fervently, tenderly... So, it is not the painful nervous state of Father John that causes all these gestures and movements, as they once wrote somewhere, but the deep, soulful religious mood in which Father John is at these moments. Yes, it cannot be otherwise. Man is not a spirit; While we are in the body, every deep feeling, every fervent, sincere prayer will be reflected outside in one way or another. We will never hide our sincere, genuine feelings. After the sixth song and litany, Father John exclaims: “kontakion” and reads it loudly, like a victory song of Christians over our defeated ancient enemy. Having finished reading the canon, he quickly enters the altar and falls in deep prayer before the throne. Having strengthened himself with prayer, he again goes to the choir and reads “verses on praises” here. I will never forget another moment. They began to sing stichera in “verse”. Father John at this time was almost dressed to serve the Liturgy. The only thing he was missing was his robe. Quickly, swiftly, he ran out rather than out, he went from the altar to the choir, joined the singers and began to sing with them. He sang with enthusiasm, deep faith in every word, regenting himself, again emphasizing individual words and slowing down the tempo where it was necessary according to the logical meaning and content of the chant. The singers instinctively guessed these words, this tempo and beat, and echoed it with considerable skill and animation. The singing, not entirely harmonious at first, quickly became harmonious, strong, sonorous, powerful, inspiring, flowing throughout the entire church, filling the entire soul of the worshiper. How touching it was to look at the singers at this time! It was as if one holy early Christian family sang with its father at its head, sang its victorious, sacred, great hymns. Matins ended, they began to ring for the Liturgy. There were so many prosphoras at the proskomedia that they were brought here in whole large baskets. Father John himself could only take out a few prosphoras from each basket and read only a few commemorations and notes from the mass of them presented to the altar for commemoration by pilgrims who had gathered to the church from the most remote corners of Russia. And how else to do it? Prosphora is sometimes served up to five thousand, and three and a half thousand is quite common. During the proskomedia, many personally approached Father John and asked him to remember his relatives, to take out at least one prosphora, so that he did not have a single free minute. Serving with Father John were hieromonks and white priests in kamilavkas and without kamilavkas, with and without crosses, young and gray-haired. These were all “aliens”. Father John united everyone; Here were all relatives and friends close to each other, even if they were only meeting for the first time. Wearing a miter with a shining cross and a chain on his chest, with a slight pleasant blush on his face from inner warm prayer, Father John stood at the head of the cathedral of clergy who had gathered around him from everywhere. - Pray, fellow servants, that the Lord will grant us to perform divine service in peace. What profound words! How truly necessary it is for every shepherd to pray in these moments so that nothing will disturb his spiritual peace, so that he will always blaze like Seraphim, and with one prayer and thought he will further penetrate into the wonderful heavenly world. The Royal Doors are open. The first exclamation was made. The Liturgy began. So he suddenly, unexpectedly, impulsively takes the altar cross and lovingly kisses it, hugs it with his arms, looks at it so tenderly and enthusiastically, his lips whisper the words of prayer, kisses it three, four times in a row, clings to it with his forehead... His lips whispered something again. Father John pronounces exclamations in the same way as he reads the canon at Matins. In the voice one can hear firm faith, hope, and tenderness. The gaze is turned to a mountainous place. Sometimes he utters exclamations, closing his eyes and going deep into himself. It’s hard to even describe how focused and self-collected Father John was during the service. All the time he is immersed in such depths of the soul that it is as if he sees nothing, hears nothing, notices nothing that is happening around him. He is in his own special world. At this time he is alone and not like the other. Father John almost does not open the missal, since he knows all the prayers from memory. He often reads in a low voice. They say that the missal should not be, so to speak, a tugboat for the priest. His prayerful mood should go beyond the missal. The missal is only for beginners and those inexperienced in prayer. In the divine service of Father John there are some peculiarities, many of which, I think, the most important, are impossible to grasp. How interesting that would be! After all, these are all the fruits of a deeply religious mood of a pure believer and flaming soul, these are the best fragrant flowers on a lush flower, these are echoes from the “holy of holies” of his soul. I'll pass on some of them 1. Receiving the Gospel from Father Protodeacon at the Royal Doors, Father John said: - Peace be with you, brother, I preach the gospel. Think about it, what does this mean? What a deep thought lies here, how much feeling there is, what attitude towards one’s younger colleague... How little in this case many resemble Father John. Walking with the Holy Gifts during the great exit, Father John said in a low voice: “I brought him out of the city and crucified him.” And again, how deeply touching it is, as these lines testify to his deep self-collection and penetration into the sacred rites that he performs. His whole soul is filled and imbued with a church-liturgical atmosphere. There is so much soul, meaningfulness, faith in everything... After placing the Holy Gifts on the throne, Father John reads the usual prayer, adding to the church words about sending down grace on people the following deeply meaningful words: “In all nurseries of youth and adolescence, spiritual and worldly, male and female, city and rural, and on all non-student youth; - in all nurseries of spiritual, monastic - male and female, - on Your poor people, the widows, the orphaned and the wretched, - those who suffered from the burning of fire, floods, storms and cowardice, - from the shortage of bread and famine, - on all those who commanded me, unworthy, to pray for them and on all Your people.” Kissing the concelebrating clergy on both shoulders after shouting “let us love one another,” he said: – Christ is alive and active among us. I stood amazed by these words and involuntarily thought. Yes, here among us, and not there, somewhere in the distance, is Christ the Savior, not dead, not as some abstract doctrine, not just as a famous historical person, but alive, “alive and active.” He is among us. And even “act”. It became eerie, and my soul was involuntarily filled with great trepidation. I was ready to fall before the throne. After secretly reading the Creed, he adds the following prayer. “Confirm in this faith and with this faith my heart and the heart of all Orthodox Christians; sow faith and this aspiration to live worthy of life; unite in this faith all the great Christian societies that have miserably fallen from the unity of the Holy Orthodox Catholic and Apostolic Churches, which is Thy body and whose Head art Thou, and the Savior of the body, - overthrow the pride and rebellion of teachers them and those who follow them, grant them to understand with their hearts the truth and salvific value of Your Church and unite with it without laziness; gather together Your holy Church and those who are indignant at ignorance, error and the stubbornness of schism, breaking through the power of the grace of Your Spirit their stubbornness and opposition to Your truth, so that they may not perish fiercely in their opposition, like Korah, Dathan and Abiron, who resisted Moses. and Aaron, Your servants. All languages ​​inhabiting the earth are drawn to this faith, so that with one heart and one mouth all languages ​​glorify You, the only God and benefactor of all; in this faith unite us all with the spirit of meekness, humility, kindness, simplicity, dispassion, patience and long-suffering, mercy, condolences and rejoicing.” Everyone told me that something extraordinary happens to Father John during the Liturgy. And this is quite fair. The closer the minutes of the transubstantiation of the Holy Gifts come, the more and more the mood of the soul rises and begins to be reflected both in the voice and in the face of Father John. “The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ,” Father John exclaims enthusiastically. What is he experiencing at these moments? In his diary, Father John writes: "This apostolic benevolence could not be more timely pronounced by the celebrant, precisely at this time, that is, before the celebration of the Mysteries. The grace of Jesus Christ - merciful, cleansing, saving, enlightening, strengthening our soul, is needed at all times, and now, in these terrible, heavenly moments, when many heavenly warriors serve with us, tremblingly surrounding the throne of God - the grace of God, enlightening and strengthening the weak, scattered powers of the spirit, we especially need it for a possible understanding of the height and importance of the upcoming sacrament. Love of God and Father. At these moments, everyone needs to feel the boundless love for us, sinners, of God and the Father, Who so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, so that whoever believes in Him would not perish, but have eternal life (John 3:16); and love Him ourselves, with the Only Begotten Son and the Holy Spirit, rejecting all worldly passions. The communion of the Holy Spirit is especially necessary for us at this time, because without this communion we cannot love God the Father; for only by the Holy Spirit can we cry out to God with sincere love: “Abba Father” (Rom. 8:15). For only the grace of the Holy Spirit purifies, sanctifies, enlightens, pacifies and strengthens us for a worthy and fruitful presence during the most holy sacrament.” “Woe are our hearts,” Father John exclaims, turning to the people and raising his hands to grief. His gaze is directed to the sky, his spirit hovers where the throne of eternal truth and love stands. Secretly, Father John says: "Lift up with Your Holy Spirit all those who stand here for You, the God of our life, and cast away from our hearts all passions of the flesh and soul. And how can we not pray at these moments for the people? The people answer: imams to the Lord. But do we answer sincerely? No, or very few, because the hearts of most people are chained to the earth by various worldly passions. It is not easy and not suddenly that the heart will ascend. to heaven, to the Lord. In order to sincerely ascend with the heart to God, a Christian must constantly live in God, reflect deeply on the works of His providence, give them a true, saving value, assimilate them with soul and heart and be a heavenly citizen on Earth. But we come to the church with dispersion, with various worldly passions and lusts that nail us to the earth. But woe to us if we do not have woe in our hearts at such moments of the greatest miracles of God’s mercy to us! This means we are insensitive and senseless. At this time, we are required to have complete devotion to the Lord Jesus Christ, His Most Pure Mother, complete trust (faith), complete trust in all circumstances of life, in all petitions, thanksgivings, praises; at the same time, a pure heart, hatred of sin in all its various forms and ardent love for truth in all its manifestations.” “We thank the Lord,” Father John exclaims again. The first two words of the prayer: “Worship worthily and righteously” are pronounced loudly, and the last ones more quietly, falling completely silent at the end. During the secret reading of the prayer after the words: “You brought us from non-existence into being,” Father John adds to strengthen the grateful feeling: into a rational being and immortal in soul, that is, you brought us; after the words “thou hast raised us again who fell,” he adds: “and a hundredfold every day, raising up those who sin and those who repent.” After the words: “Before You raised us to heaven, and You bestowed the kingdom of the future,” he adds: “In our very communion of Your life-giving Mysteries, You already raise us to heaven: for where You are, there is heaven and heaven, and having given Yourself to the faithful, You, together with You, have already granted the Kingdom of Heaven, the Kingdom of the future, in pledge of Your Most Pure Body and Blood.” Take, eat, this is My body. When pronouncing these words, he places special emphasis on the word Body and on the words: for you we are broken. He pronounces his last words, turning his face to the people. Drink from her, all of you,” Father John exclaims with deep faith. While pronouncing these words, he repeatedly touches the cup with his finger, as if even hitting it with force. Again the words are emphasized: for you and for the many who are poured out. This is what can be heard in the priest’s voice at these moments: blood was shed for us, for you, for those very ones who are standing here at this moment, and not just for those who stood at the cross. It is shed not for some abstract humanity, but for living people, for every poor, wretched, rich, noble, man and woman. Your chest is barely covered with sackcloth, and blood has been shed for you. You have forgotten and rejected God, and this most holy blood was shed for you. Christ suffered for your sins here. After pronouncing the words of the establishment, Father John reads in some extraordinary delight: “O Divine One, O dear One, O Thy sweetest voice! And what does he feel in these moments? There is an abyss of love here,” he says, the love of the Divine for the human race. There is something to think about for everyone impartially delving into the destinies of God regarding the human race and into himself. A sacred thrill runs through all the members, throughout the entire being of every an unprejudiced person, not bound by worldly pleasures and lusts, when he listens with his heartfelt ear to these words from the lips of the clergyman. Oh, the most perfect love, all-encompassing love, the strongest love! cry, My body, and be strengthened by faith." What do we offer in gratitude to God for this love for us? Do we feed the hungry, do we give drink to the thirsty? Do we clothe the naked? Do we visit the sick and those in prison? But in the person of them, as His members, Christ Himself, our Savior, who sacrificed Himself for us, requires our help.” Yours from Yours,” Father John proclaims, placing special emphasis on the word about everyone, pronouncing it more drawn out than others. His soul feels how the people gathered in large numbers in this church need heavenly help, and he fervently prays for everyone. “When I pronounce the words: Thine from Thine,” he writes, “then I imagine the solemnity and greatness of this moment, when a bishop or priest, standing face to face with the eternal, perfect, unchangeable truth of the Heavenly Father, who punishes sin, offers on behalf of all and for all the one immeasurable, all-righteous, propitiatory sacrifice of Christ the Son of God, the only one capable of bending to the mercy of God the Father, redeeming the whole world from righteous curse and to seek forgiveness of sins and blessings for all believers, and forgiveness of sins and peace with the saints for those who have fallen asleep in the faith and hope of resurrection and eternal life - the Sacrifice by which all the saints who have pleased God from the ages were justified, and in thanksgiving for whom it is also offered.” Transformed by Your Holy Spirit. “Amen,” Father John proclaims in a sincerely believing tone and, as if to further reassure those in the altar of this truth, he adds: God has appeared in the flesh. The Word became flesh and moved into us. And his lips whispered something else, but I only managed to make out “surrounded by the angelic armies.” But even without words, from the expression on his face, it was clear that Father John’s thoughts were entirely occupied with the Holy Mysteries. Yes, it was and is - something to think about here. "Who will comprehend the greatness of the good deed given to us by our Lord Jesus Christ in the Sacrament of the Eucharist or Communion? Completely - no one, not even the mind of an angel. For this good deed is boundless and immense, like God Himself, His goodness, wisdom and omnipotence. What love for us sinners is expressed daily in the Liturgy! What closeness of God to us! Here He is here, on the throne, daily, essentially, by all Divinity and humanity, offered and eaten by the faithful, or brought by the priest into the homes of the faithful and offered to the sick. What a wonderful communication, what a dissolution of the Divine with our fallen, weak, sinful humanity, but not with sin, which is burned by the fire of grace. What happiness, bliss of our nature, accepting the Divinity and humanity of Christ God and uniting with Him. In this acceptance within ourselves with faith is our purification, sanctification, deliverance from our sins and enemies, our renewal, our strength, the confirmation of our heart, our peace, our freedom, our glory, our life and immortality. Oh, how many blessings are given to us from God through the Liturgy! How do Christians feel about it? Mostly with ordinary coldness, inattention, indifference. They receive Holy Communion very rarely, as if out of necessity and established habit, once a year. What are they depriving themselves of, what priceless divine treasure, what immortal, life-giving gift of God, what help from God! This is why there is no true life in Orthodox Christians today, life according to the spirit of Christ. That is why vices and disasters have multiplied. That is why all creation has armed itself against us in revenge on the enemies of God; all the elements: water, fire, air, and death in all forms.” Father John experiences deep feelings at these moments. His great reverence for the Holy Mysteries is also revealed in the fact that many times, slowly, without even the sign of the cross, he bows his head before them. Tears flowed abundantly from his eyes. First one, then another handkerchief he took out of his pocket and wiped them off. What did this wonderful husband cry about? There are no tears without deep emotional emotion. There are no tears without a feeling of love and living thought. If someone could, so to speak, analyze Father John’s tear, then what rich content could be found in it. Father John’s mood is so high at these moments that it is involuntarily transmitted to others and significantly increases the mood of everyone present here at this time. Many people come to an almost exalted state at these moments. I was told that some more than once saw angels above the throne at the moment of the transubstantiation of the Holy Gifts. The celestial beings are, as it were, co-servants of the earth-multiplier when he performs the sacrament. Strict with himself, Father John in this case is very strict with the laity. "During Thee, we sing to the whole church, all those present in the church must pray with the celebrants, so that the Heavenly Father will send down His Holy Spirit on us and on the Gifts presented - and read silently the prayer: Lord, Who is Your Most Holy Spirit. At this time, not a single soul should remain cold, but every soul should be inflamed with love for God. At this time, may our souls be like burning lamps, like a censer burning and fragrant, like the smoke of incense, rising to the mountain: for at this moment a terrible, life-giving sacrament takes place - the transformation by the Spirit of God of bread and wine into the Most Pure Body and Blood of Christ, and God appears on the throne in the flesh.” After the exclamation: Much about the Most Holy One, remembering every Orthodox bishopric, Father John adds: “Remember, Lord, all the Orthodox bishops, bearers of Your Spirit, Your title and dignity, Your righteousness, Your power and Your judgment, Your holiness, Your immortality, Your new creation, Your lordship and splendor - all presbytery - and secretly adds: you have entrusted to him the ministry of reconciliation of people with God, repentance, restoration, renewal, enlightenment, blessing, multiplication of the race through the sacrament of marriage, sanctification and deification and all the heavenly sacraments, except for ordination - may it be worthy of its title, and may the right live and perform sacred acts and pleasingly bring prayers to You, the Master, for everyone and for all; remember in Christ the deaconry, which assists the priesthood and serves the heavenly mysteries, and every priestly office. We also bring to You this verbal service about the universe - about the Holy, Catholic and Apostolic Church, composed of all nations, and in the storm of this world, pacify the existing Churches and the prince of darkness and plant firm piety in them; about our Most Pious Sovereign, about his Spouse, about his Heir, the Hope of Your Church, and about the entire reigning House...” I’m not talking about his fiery prayer for the dead. It is distinguished by its extraordinary boldness and depth. The deacon began the litany before the “Our Father.” During the secret reading of the prayer laid down at this litany: We offer you our life... grant us communion... with a clear conscience, Father John adds the following: “For boldness before all your people, for the eradication of corruptive, flattering, annoying, violating, darkening, shaming, soul-destructive passions that separate you from you - for planting, returning, affirming in the souls all the true, life-giving virtues - in fulfillment of wisdom - to teach all people faith and Thy commandment, - to enlighten my light before Thy people, for they may see my good deeds and glorify You, our Father in heaven, so that I do not carry the great angelic, idolizing, sovereign office of the priesthood in vain - not into judgment or judgment. condemnation." Never forget another moment from this time. During the litanies, after reading the secret prayer, Father John bent over the throne and prayed in deep reverence. Then he took the paten with the Holy Body in his hands, raised it slightly above the throne and, fixing his gaze, prayed intently in front of it. Then he took the chalice with the Holy Blood in his hands, pressed his forehead to it, and prayed fervently for a long time. At this time he did not utter a single word, did not make a single movement, and his eyes were almost constantly closed. What depth of inspiration, mystical immersion in the mysteries of our life in Christ, what soulful contemplation of these mysteries! What a touching, touching, unforgettable picture. How it touches, elevates, excites, cleanses, enlightens the most callous, hardened, petrified heart. I lost heart more than once afterwards. But as soon as I remembered these minutes, an invisibly new, living stream poured into me from somewhere, and I came to life again in spirit. The exclamation: and grant us, O Master, ends with the words and verbs: Our Father. One cannot help but see deep thought in this addition. On behalf of all those present in the church, he confesses that God is the Father of us all and that we are all brothers to each other. How important it is to experience at least one moment these words that we often forget about our universal brotherhood, brotherhood not on paper and in thoughts only, but in reality itself. After reading the prayer: I believe and confess, Father John secretly says the following words: “The Lord is in me personally, God and man, hypostatically, essentially, immutably, purifying, sanctifying, victorious, renewing, deifying, miraculous, which I feel in myself.” So, for Father John, in these moments, Christ the Savior is not only with him, but also in him, Christ not as an abstract concept, but as a real, living Person, not just one idea of ​​Christ, a thought about Christ, but also the living action of Christ in him, felt in a real way by the heart of a pious shepherd. How many of us experience such thoughts and feelings at these moments? Here Father John partook of the Body and Blood of Christ. His face changed. There is no longer on him a trace of that fatigue and any kind of sorrow or sadness that could be seen when he just entered the church this morning. Extraordinary spiritual joy, extraordinary peace and heavenly calm, extraordinary strength and power were now displayed in every feature of his face. His face seemed to glow, as if emitting some kind of radiance. Now I understand well what the halo, depicted on icons near the head of the Holy Saints, means. Father John was now ready to work again without any fatigue from morning until late at night; he now stocked up on strength for all the day's work and worries ahead of him. Persons standing close to him told me that such a change happens to him every time he approaches the Holy Mysteries. They also told me that he draws strength from the Holy Mysteries to carry out that work, which undoubtedly exceeds all human strength. When all the concelebrants had received communion, Father John began to break up the Holy Lamb for the communion of the laity. He crushed the Lamb with extraordinary speed. The service book does not contain any prayers in this case. But so that during such a holy task his soul would not be disturbed by any idle thoughts, Father John again whispers prayers. I heard fragmentary expressions from the canon of Simeon Logothet “On the Crucifixion of the Lord and the Lamentation of the Most Holy Theotokos.” Finally, the time has come for general confession. We all left the altar and stood near Father John. An unusually majestic picture unfolded before us. From a fairly high altitude one could see the most distant corners of the vast church. There was a sea of ​​heads in front of us. There were, they said, at least five thousand people in the church. Just as the sea is agitated, so was this sea of ​​people agitated. A small push from one side or the other was enough for the entire mass of people to deviate in the opposite direction, then quite naturally, by itself, to maintain balance, they were directed in the other direction. At these moments, in front of us there was no longer a mass of individual people, but, as it were, one person, a single body, one living organism, moving back and forth. Father John came out of the altar to the pulpit in a humble form without a miter and began to speak a lesson before confession. He began it without our usual words “in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.” – Sinners and sinners like me! You came to this church to bring repentance for your sins to the Lord Jesus Christ our Savior and then begin the Holy Mysteries, - this is how Father John began his teaching. – Have you prepared to receive such a great Sacrament? Do you know that I bear a great answer before the throne of the Most High, if you approach without preparing, know that you are not repenting to me, but to the Lord Himself, Who is invisibly present here, whose Body and Blood are currently on the altar. Having said a few more heartfelt words, Father John continued: “Listen... I will read prayers of repentance.” And he immediately began to read them, turning his face to the people. “God our Savior,” Father John reads enthusiastically, loudly and touchingly, “forgive these servants of yours.” He reads the words of “these of yours” drawlingly, breaking them down into syllables. At the same time, with his open right hand he passes over the heads of those standing and praying below, as if separately pointing each one to the merciful Judge. Then everyone’s heart involuntarily trembled. Everyone felt that it was he, and not anyone else, who now had to give an account to God for the time he had lived, for all his deeds. Now he cannot hide behind others from this Judge. The prayer continues. The shepherd's voice rises and rises. Sometimes, during reading, he even more expressively, like a prophet of a formidable and righteous Judge, points his finger to the crowd, to one side or another of the church... All these and similar gestures are very touching, extremely clarify the meaning of what is being read and make a strong impression on the masses. Having read the first prayer of repentance, Father John declares that it needs to be “interpreted” and continues his teaching. He speaks, of course, without a notebook. He speaks simply, without any oratorical techniques. In one place he could not manage to construct a sentence correctly. The preacher paused for a few moments and then, declaring that he “said it wrong,” calmly continued his speech. His word was distinguished by inner strength and authority (1 Cor. 2:4; 4:20) and did not at all resemble a boy reading a well-memorized lesson. He spoke with deep faith in every word, ready to even suffer for every word, because he spoke everything from the heart, he said what he himself knew well from his personal experience. These were not just “good phrases” carefully collected from various collections and books. This is what he told the people. – In this prayer to God the Father, the First Person of the Most Holy Trinity, the All-Good, All-Holy, Omnipresent, All-Wise, All-Creator, Almighty, All-Ruling, Terrible of every creature, the Holy Church prays to the Lord to grant mercy to sinners and sinners, to forgive them their sins, all iniquities committed either through frivolity or thoughtlessness, willingly or unwillingly, he would forgive and have mercy, as he once had mercy on the prophet and king David, who sinned gravely before God. Walking one day on the terrace of his palace, he saw a very beautiful woman, a young Jewish woman, bathing, was captivated by her beauty and wished to make her his wife. But this Jewish woman was married. To fulfill his sinful desire, David sent her husband to war and ordered him to be placed in a dangerous place, where he was struck down by the enemy’s arrows. Thus, David achieved his criminal goal and, intoxicated with sinful passion, did not want to think about what a grave sin he had committed before God. But the Lord God had mercy on the sinner and sent the prophet Nathan to him for admonition and instruction. The prophet denounced the king for his lawlessness and urged him to repent. Then the king realized his grave sin and was horrified by it. Having sprinkled ashes on his head as a sign of humility, he began to cry bitterly and sincerely, fervently repent before the Lord. And the Lord heard his sorrowful prayer and forgave his sin. The Holy Spirit, who left him after his sin, again dwelt in him after his repentance and did not leave him until the end of his days. King David expressed his sincere and heartfelt contrition for his sins in psalms in which he thanked and glorified God. He left behind him the book of Psalms, most commonly used in the Orthodox Church. His 50th Psalm: “Have mercy on me, O God,” is a beautiful and irreplaceable example of heartfelt repentance. Brothers, King David was a pious man, meek, kind, wise, who had the gift of prophecy, he was a good man, but he sinned, did not take care of himself, and stole his only wife! A king, a prophet, a holy man - and he fell so deeply! Oh, how easy it is for a man to sin. You need to be vigilant to your soul, you need to always look after yourself, curb your feelings. We need to watch ourselves every day and hour, every minute and anticipate our sinful desires in advance and protect ourselves from temptations, for the devil, like a roaring lion, runs after us and looks for someone to devour. To do this, you need to think about and weigh your every step and every action. Another king, Manasseh, fell away from God and fell into idolatry, practiced sorcery, summoning spirits, was a spiritualist in the present day way, and taught his children the same. Ungrateful, proud, he despised the people who loved God, and caressed and brought closer those who were selfish and similar to themselves. With his iniquities he angered God; The Lord's patience is exhausted. During the war between the Jews and the Assyrians, Manasseh was taken captive, his hands and feet were chained in stocks, and a ring was put through his nose. In such a shameful form, like a beast, he was led through Babylon and thrown into a stinking dungeon, where he was kept for three months. Brothers, a person cannot live without punishments, these true visits of God, for which we should always thank God. Sometimes only punishment can sober a person, enlighten his spiritual eye, show him his real, and not his own imagined, position. And Manasseh, only while in grave captivity, came to his senses, recognized his sins before the Lord and realized his insignificance and powerlessness. Now he realized that he was a worm, that he had nothing to be proud of, because everyone is equal before the Lord. God created everyone equally, created from one finger and will turn everyone into a finger. And Manasseh began to pray earnestly, repent, and cry day and night over his errors. The Lord heard his prayers and forgave him. King Manasseh composed a prayer of repentance, which is now read during Great Lent at Compline. In the person of these two kings, David and Manasseh, who sinned grievously. The Holy Church presents to us, brothers, examples of sincere and deep-hearted repentance. The Lord God is the terrible Judge of the whole earth. He will not look at anyone's face: man or woman, boy or girl, king or commoner, gentleman or peasant, general or soldier, rich or poor. Everyone is equal before Him: He looks at hearts, looks at what a person’s hope is, what his faith is, what his deeds are. The Lord will demand more from high-ranking, educated people than from common people when they sin, get drunk or commit adultery. Brothers, oh how powerful sin is! Sins are thieves, robbers who constantly rob us. They usually dress themselves in noble, tempting clothes and make us poor before God and even His enemies. Which of us is without sins? Who isn't proud? Who isn't ambitious? Who hasn't offended each other? Who has not lied to his neighbor? The teaching, apparently, is simple, not artfully ornate, - the kind of teaching that any village priest can compose and deliver without much difficulty. I had heard a lot about Father John as a preacher, and was looking forward to his sermon. But I listened to the beginning of his sermon—may the great shepherd forgive me—with quite a lot of coldness in my soul and even disappointment. Apparently, the people were indifferent to the sermon. But then I don’t know what happened to me and this hitherto silent mass of people. Some special mood, invisibly descending from somewhere into the souls of the listeners, began to take possession of the crowd. At first only light sighs were heard here and there; here and there one could observe a tear slowly rolling down the face of the touched listener. But the further time passed, the more deep sighs could be heard and tears could be seen. And Father John, seeing them, reminded them most of all in his teaching. And I began to feel something unusual in myself. From somewhere, from some unknown depth of my soul, something began to rise within me, enveloping my entire being. Behind me and opposite me, on the right choir, stood hitherto apparently indifferent, more curious faces. But here they are kneeling and shedding tears. And my callous, hardened heart melted. A tear rolled down from my eyes, a pure, repentant tear, a holy tear, a gracious tear, a life-giving tear, a saving tear. And what was going on among the people at that time! They shouted from all sides: - Father, forgive me, father, have mercy; we are all sinners; pray, pray for us. The sea was raging. It became so noisy that nothing more could be heard from Father John’s speech. “Hush, hush, listen,” Father John shouted loudly, imperiously calling everyone to silence with his hand. For a few moments this great noise fell silent, but then it sounded again with renewed vigor, starting first somewhere in one place, and then gradually covering all those praying. Just as strong thunder rolls across the vast sky, so people’s cries for prayer, forgiveness and pardon rolled from one end to another across the huge church. With considerable difficulty it was necessary to establish silence in the church. Father John begins to read further the second prayer before repentance. He also reads it with deep feeling and expressiveness. Having read the prayer, he again began to “interpret” it. – In this prayer, which I have just said, the Holy Church prays to the Chief Shepherd that He, the Most Merciful, will forgive our untruths, our sins, have mercy, deliver us from eternal torment, forgive our lawless intentions, our thoughts and lawless actions. The Holy Church prays to Jesus Christ, the Son of God, who took upon Himself the sins of the whole world and washed away the impurity of our souls with His Most Pure Blood, to have mercy on us, like two gospel debtors who themselves could not pay a large debt to their creditors, like the harlot who washed the feet of Christ with her tears and wiped them with her hair. The Lord God saw her true repentance, her desire to atone for her sins and, having granted her forgiveness, released her in peace. In the same way, all those who sincerely repent of their sins today will receive forgiveness and deliverance from eternal torment. We are given a lot of time in life to come to our senses, so that we can grieve, grieve, and cry for our souls. But people are lazy, they don’t want to take care of their souls, they don’t want to fight the sins that, like thieves and robbers, break into their souls, they don’t want to fight them, drive them away. The Lord God does everything for those who love Him, but those who boldly push away the right hand of God do not wish good for themselves and go to their own destruction. And without God we cannot exist for even one second: we owe everything to Christ for our life, our breath, the air we breathe, the light of the sun, our food, our drink. We owe Him endlessly; we are His unpaid debtors. We are called to be a “holy nation,” a “people of renewal,” a “royal priesthood.” After all, we are told: “Be holy, as I am holy.” At this, the same uproar arose among the people again. “Father, father,” they shouted from everywhere, “forgive me, pray.” And again it was impossible to make out anything. “Hush, hush, listen, hush,” said Father John. Little by little, silence reigns in the church again, interrupted from time to time only by deep sighs and a tear silently rolling down the face of the listener. “The Lord God, the terrible and righteous Judge,” Father John continues his interrupted speech. “He did not have mercy on the fallen angels who were proud against God Himself, but condemned them to eternal torment.” We sinners sin every minute and with our sins we anger the Lord. Why do we need such leniency? God the Father sent His beloved Son into the world. Who took upon Himself the sins of the whole world, suffered for the sins of people, and removed from people the curse that had weighed on them since the fall of the first people. The Lord Jesus Christ, through his suffering on the cross, delivered us from eternal torment. Only the Son of God could do this, not man. God the Father gave all the power of judgment over people to Jesus Christ. The Lord Jesus Christ gave the power to the apostles, and then to the bishops and priests, including me, the sinful priest John, to allow those who repent, to forgive or not forgive their sins, judging by how people repent. If a person sincerely repents, with contrition of heart, then the priest absolves him of his sins. On the contrary, if a person does not repent sincerely, then the priest does not absolve him of his sins so that he comes to his senses. So, in order to receive forgiveness of sins, you must repent sincerely, ardently, and heartily. What kind of repentance do we have? We are all just plucking the tips and stems of sins. No, the roots, the roots of sins, need to be torn out... What is repentance? Repentance is a gift of God, bestowed by God for the merits of His beloved Son, who fulfilled all the righteousness of God. Repentance is a gift given for self-condemnation, self-accusation, self-reproach. Repentance is a firm and unwavering intention to leave one’s former sinful life, to correct oneself, to be renewed, to love the Lord with all one’s soul, to be reconciled with God, with one’s conscience. Repentance is firm hope, hope that the merciful Lord will forgive all our sins. He who does not repent becomes an enemy of the church. Just as rotten twigs or branches fall away from a tree, so unrepentant sinners fall away from the Head of the Church of Christ. Christ Himself is the Vine, and we are branches feeding on life, the juices of this Vine. Whoever does not feed on the juices of this wondrous Vine will certainly die. The schismatics perish in error, the Pashkovites also perish, and the Tolstoyans also perish. They are all unrepentant sinners. They themselves perish and drag others to destruction. Brothers and sisters, do you repent? Do you want to improve your life? Are you aware of your sins? Are you too lazy to pray to God? Did you drink, commit adultery, deceive, break oaths, blaspheme, envy, cheat, be malicious, slander, steal? Yes, we have many, many sins, brothers and sisters, it’s impossible to count them all... The word is over. Addressing the people, Father John now speaks authoritatively and loudly: - Repent, repent of what you have sinned! What happened in those minutes is impossible to describe. The tension reached the highest degree and equally captured the entire mass. These were no longer quiet and calm people, but a raging sea. The flames of fire that engulfed the inside of the building make themselves felt first with insignificant tongues of fire escaping from inside here and there, and with thick clouds of smoke. Then, having made its way out, it rises up with terrible force and almost instantly spreads throughout the entire building, quickly flying to neighboring houses. At these moments, a person can only silently almost look at what is happening in front of him. The crowd looked something similar at the moment. There was a terrible, unimaginable noise. Some cried, some sobbed loudly, some fell to the floor, some stood in silent stupor. Many confessed their sins out loud in front of everyone, not at all embarrassed by the fact that everyone heard them: “We’re not praying, we’re swearing, we’re angry, we’re angry, we’re angry,” and the like could be heard from all parts of the church. It was touching to look at Father John at this time. He stood there, deeply moved and shocked by everything. His lips whispered a prayer, his gaze was turned to the sky. He stood silently, with his arms crossed on his chest, standing as a mediator between the heavenly Judge and repentant sinners, as an earthly judge of human consciences. Large tears rolled down his face. He covered his face with his hands, but even from under them large tears dripped onto the cold church floor. What was he crying about? Who can depict his state of mind at these moments? Father John wept, uniting his tears with the tears of the people, like a true shepherd of the flock of Christ, he grieved and rejoiced in his soul for his flock. And these lost, sinful sheep, seeing tears on the face of their beloved shepherd and understanding the state of his soul in these moments, were ashamed even more of themselves and burst into even greater sobs, cries, groans, and a pure river of tears of repentance flowed even more abundantly to the throne of God, washing polluted souls in their streams. The huge cathedral was filled with groans, screams and sobs: it seemed that the entire church was shaking from the stunning cries of the people. “Repent, repent,” Father John repeated from time to time. Sometimes he turned his gaze to any one part of the church and everyone there felt his gaze on them. Immediately, voices began to be heard louder in this place, standing out noticeably in the general chorus of voices and infecting the crowd even more. Then again the same tone reigned everywhere, only to intensify again where Father John turned his gaze. How powerfully he controlled this entire mass of people - he was like some kind of magician or sorcerer. If Father John had told the people to follow them in these moments, they would have followed their shepherd everywhere... The penitents remained in this state for at least five minutes. Finally, Father John wiped away his tears with a red handkerchief and crossed himself as a sign of gratitude for the people’s repentant tears. “Hush, hush, brothers,” his voice is heard. It will not be long before the desired silence reigns in the church. But little by little everything becomes silent. Only sighs can be heard, and tears stream down the cheeks of those praying here and there. “Listen,” Father John says drawlingly. “God has given me, like all priests, the power to bind and absolve a person’s sins... Listen, I’ll read the prayer of permission.” Bow your heads: I will cover you with the stole, bless you, and you will receive forgiveness of sins from the Lord. Thousands of heads humbly bow and a prayer of permission is read. Father John takes the end of his stole, passes it through the air in all four directions and blesses the people. What a solemn and mysterious moment! Heaven and earth are reconciled; sinners with the Sinless One. After the prayer of permission, everyone felt especially at ease. It was as if a huge burden had been lifted from everyone’s chest. These minutes vividly reminded me of the moments of a happy, joyful, pure and carefree, holy childhood. Joyful, freed from the heavy burden of sin, the people sighed freely and with tears of gratitude looked at the meek, shining with spiritual triumph face of their good shepherd father, who so virtuously led his sheep from the dark wilds of sin onto the bright path of virtue, to the radiant house of the Heavenly Father. People who deserve all attention and trust told us something very interesting regarding the general confession of Father John. At a time when the people bring sincere and deep repentance for their sins, some of the pilgrims see the Savior blessing the people and absolving them from all sins. This was recently reported even in the press. This is the religious upsurge of the spirit of the people at these moments, this is the extent of its tension! This was followed by the removal of the Most Pure and Life-Giving Mysteries of Christ. After everyone loudly read the prayer: “I believe, O Lord, and I confess,” the communion of the Body and Blood of Christ began, graciously accepted by purified and reconciled souls with God. What was going on around you at this time? The people rushed in a wave towards the Holy Chalice. How much awe, delight, and quiet joy could be seen and read on everyone’s faces. What scenes, never even seen by me anywhere, were constantly repeated here. Here's what I saw and heard: - Lord, grant me the honor to partake of the Holy Mysteries. - Dear, golden priest, sacraments. - Father, darling, communion. - Father, communion. I'm sick. Kidneys hurt. I'm dying. - Father, I’m not well either, take communion. - Father, sacraments; I didn’t take communion for two weeks. Here an old woman stands on her knees to the side, not far from Father John, and asks in an unusually plaintive old woman’s voice, barely uttering the words with her toothless mouth: She seemed to freeze, frozen in this position. And it seems that no one will hear her in this almost universal confusion and noise. But now she is heard. “Oh my God, the sacraments,” I suddenly hear not far from me. “I’m not God, but a simple person,” Father John answers calmly, without any excitement or embarrassment, but firmly and decisively. The entire surrounding atmosphere was filled with affectionate words addressed to Father John. It was as if she was entirely woven from these words alone. They bring the children to receive communion. There, somewhere in the distance, a sudden noise is heard, almost reminiscent of an assault or battle. It is the townspeople who want to get through all sorts of bars and through the ranks of the police in order to receive communion. Some, more daring and brave, having pushed aside the simple, timid village peasants, already manage to make their way to the very feet of Father John. But, alas, the priest not only did not give them communion, but also threatened that, in case of new noise on their part, he would even excommunicate them from holy communion for three months. “Kiss the Chalice, thank God,” Father John said to many, giving them communion. Thank God! And how often, indeed, do we forget to do this... How many tears I saw standing next to Father John. For some, tears flowed instantly when they approached the Holy Chalice. It was as if some source opened up for them right away. Peaceful, everyone left the Chalice. And there, in the distance, a dark, gray mass was slowly moving forward, advancing on the front rows. I thought there would be no end to it. Everything shifted in this crowd. From the outside, it seemed as if one huge monster was moving, gradually advancing on you. There was once a very sad incident. On May 17, an event occurred that is impossible to talk about without tears of bitterness, regret and shame. A misfortune has occurred that loudly cries out for the lack of our morals. The point is this: Father John of Kronstadt, having notified everyone of his imminent departure to his native village of Sura (Arkhangelsk province), served a farewell mass. The people flocked to the church up to five thousand people, and when the venerable shepherd came out with the Holy Gifts to commune all this multitude of people who had brought repentance in the midst of general confession, the crowd surged forward and crowded with such uncontrollable force, created such a terrible commotion that in an instant, from being in a good and prayerful mood, it turned into something amazing. The faces, which had been red and covered with sweat for a minute, suddenly turned pale and distorted; desperate cries of suffering and fear were heard - calls for salvation... The stuffiness became unimaginable, people's clothes turned to shreds, many, especially women and children, fell, and their bodies were trampled by the back rows that piled forward. The iron lattice of the soleya could hardly withstand this terrible onslaught. Fortunately, a military team that happened to be nearby, under the command of a bailiff, managed to come to the rescue: they began to carry the mutilated out of the church into the fence. Stunning scenes of suffering took place there: some, in a semi-insensible state, were given communion by the priests who served Father John; others - the maimed, disfigured - were given first aid; one woman, crushed to death in the cathedral, was carried here - already a corpse. Filled with grief and horror, Father John went out to the people and, in a trembling, deeply shocked voice, reproached the crowd for their insane behavior. “Do you know,” the shepherd concluded his excited speech, “that perhaps the repentance of several thousand of you will not correct the sin of this one death!” Pray! The communion of the large crowd continued for more than two hours. Here the Holy Gifts are taken to the altar. Here again the priest appeared with them in front of the people... “Always, now and ever,” echoed loudly throughout the entire cathedral. And almost everyone at that time thought: oh, if only this were so in reality. When the Holy Gifts were transferred to the altar, Father John fell down to them and stood there for a long time. Then he stood up and fell down again. It was as if he did not want to part with them, he could not enjoy seeing them. After a prayer of thanks, Father John went out to the pulpit with a cross and with a joyful exclamation congratulated everyone on the acceptance of the Most Holy Mysteries of Christ, which forever and ever serve as the sanctification and purification of our souls. The people, beaming with joy, with boundless and enthusiastic love for their dear mentor, unanimously, sincerely, warmly thanked him for his congratulations. Having venerated the holy cross, everyone hurried to their homes to meet there the dear shepherd, who daily visits his flock in apartments for visitors. Having unmasked himself, surrounded by a significant number of people gathered in the altar, the priest began to look through more urgent letters and telegrams. Taking money out of the envelopes, he casually shoved them into all his pockets. And some of them were distributed here and now to various people. Answered various questions. I signed two cards for someone. They bring more. - I won’t sign anymore. This is vanity. Why be vain? - Father, sign it; Father, sign it,” they pray to him. Having cut the antidora, he began to distribute it to those present with the words: – Take it and eat it with prayer; this is better. The priest was called to bless one intelligent young lady. She had lost a little girl whom she loved very much and for whom she therefore mourned greatly. Father patted her on the shoulder, began to stroke her head, look into her eyes, caressed her, caressed her: - What are you doing? What you? What's wrong with you, dear? - Come on, come on, don't cry. She'll be better off there. Eh, you poor thing. God will send you five more and better children. - Don't cry. Won't you cry? “I won’t,” the lady says almost calmly. “Thank you for your obedience,” Father John answers firmly. All this was said so warmly and sweetly that the lady completely calmed down and went in peace to her home. The husband, delighted with everything that happened, gave the priest a wad of money with the words: The lady went home with her husband, and those who watched this whole scene began to crowd towards Father John again, asked for blessings, fervently kissed the hands, the cross and even the priest’s clothes, fell to their knees in front of him, and begged him for something with tears. Many asked to visit them separately, naming their apartments. They did not even allow him to leave the church. When we were getting ready to go home, it was already almost twelve o'clock. And sometimes in St. Andrew’s Cathedral the service from five o’clock in the morning continues, thanks to the mass of communicants, even until half an hour past two. We didn't stay at home for long. We barely had time to drink a glass of tea, or even just cold water, when we had to rush to the photograph of P. P. Schauman. This day was a particularly happy day for us. Father John gave us his word to come with us. We did not walk, but rather ran into the photograph where Father John usually took pictures. We did not seem to feel any fatigue after such a long service and after so many hours spent in great tension. We wandered a little through the unfamiliar streets of Kronstadt to safely get to Schauman’s photograph. They were already waiting for us here. Father John was not yet there; and it would not be long before he could escape from the hands of the huge crowd of people besieging him in the church. While awaiting his arrival, we began examining large collections of photographic cards. Reviewing all these cards and groups, I could not help but pay attention to one circumstance, very curious and remarkable. There was, it seems, not a single card in this sea of ​​cards on which Father John would have been photographed in exactly the same way. Regardless of the card, he had a different expression on his face. At times this difference reached such proportions that it was difficult even to recognize Father John. Anyone who had not seen him would certainly not have recognized him here. Interested in this, we asked people who know Father John closely what explains such a difference in photographs depicting the same face. It turns out that we noticed something very true and characteristic. The expression on Father John's face changes frequently and sometimes with amazing speed. That's why it comes out so differently on cards. I partly noticed this myself while watching Father John during the service. Time passed almost unnoticed during these elections amid enthusiasm, reasoning, comments, and advice. Suddenly there was a voice: “He’s coming.” Almost all of us rushed in a crowd to the entrance to meet our dear priest here. Although we did not tell anyone that Father John would go from the cathedral to take photographs with us, there was already a decent crowd of people standing at the entrance of the photograph, waiting for his arrival. In some unknown way, people have already discovered our secret. Having quickly blessed some, Father John went into the house. We surrounded him. One of my comrades and I grabbed him by the arms and began to quickly rise to a dizzying height, almost under the clouds, where the photograph itself was arranged. Father John, despite his sixty years, was not at all behind us, fleet-footed youths. He was cheerful, constantly smiling and affectionately joked about our diligence along the way. Although it was a high climb, we did not walk long until we reached the photographic tower, which was lost almost under the heavens. Here we are. There was no end to our delight. Father John talked tirelessly, sometimes with everyone together, sometimes with everyone separately. Talked about a lot of things; talked about us. We shared with the priest our impressions and gratitude for the greatest consolation he gave us today in church. They started to seat us. Father John took a place of honor in the middle, with us youngsters next to him. Each of us wanted to sit next to him: everyone crowded and huddled close to him. To please us and distribute us with greater economy, we were arranged as follows. One of us sat down right on the floor at his feet, bowing his head slightly on Father John’s hand. He considered this position a great reward for himself and would be ready to sit “at his feet” all the time. Two sat next to Father John, two stood behind him, and the rest occupied less valuable places, but they were not only happy, but also proud of it. While we were being seated, Father John good-naturedly joked at the photographer, who often ran up to him, straightening his cross, his cassock, or his head, finally asking him to make a cheerful expression on his face. This came out, as they say, by order. How pleasant it was for all of us at those moments, how good everyone felt in their souls. Everyone wanted these minutes to never stop, so that we could be in this wonderful, fatherly, sweet environment all the time. While the photographer was busy with us, the conversation did not stop. Father John was asked about one thing and then about another. But then one of our companions asked him such a question, during which everyone somehow became especially subdued, became quiet and began to follow the further conversation with extraordinary attention. One of our people asked how Father John looked at monasticism and whether he would bless him to choose this path of life. I waited with bated breath for an answer. The proposed question was also my vital, burning question, on the resolution of which I worked a lot, both theoretically and practically. My comrades, whom I loved and respected with all my heart, also helped me resolve this issue. I was told a lot about the pros and cons of monasticism. Out of love for me, most advised me to get married, painting the most fantastic pictures of the happiness of family life and what a good family man I would be. They even said with what pleasure they would then come to me for tea. Of course, they did not fail to mention that this is the age of steam and electricity, that the end of the 19th century is approaching and the 20th century is coming - the century of freedom and complete happiness. Inspired, concentrated, clear and separate, Father John answered the tempting question as follows: “I don’t know anything better in the position of a young man than to give all of himself to the service of the Church with all his almost untouched and untapped strength. There is only one thing you need to take care of in order to walk your life’s path piously. If you feel this way, God will bless you. Father John said nothing more. I wanted to ask him the same question, but in this way I was completely unexpectedly warned. Having heard such an answer, I already considered it unnecessary to ask Father John about the same thing a second time. Now I was moving from the area of ​​hesitation to the area of ​​more definite thoughts about my future path in life. And indeed, as it turned out later, I did not need to ask Father John about my path. Last year I received from him a diary “My Life in Christ” with a handwritten signature and well-wishes. To this day I keep this book as a shrine. In the same year, I received a letter from Father John in which he informed me that, at my request, he had sent rich silver-gilded holy vessels, vestments, airs, and icons to my homeland. As one would expect, all these items were very valuable: each one brings his own best gift to Father John. His letter to me ended with the words: “Your most humble servant,” and so on. What confusion and trepidation filled the soul of the young student when he read these lines... He will never forget this great humility of the shepherd. When my time came to finally choose the path of a new life, Father John sent me as a blessing a small icon of St. Mitrofan in a silver-gilded robe with a deeply heartfelt and invigorating inscription. May the Lord protect him for many, many years. Perhaps it was only thanks to him that I firmly and decisively followed the path of life that I am now walking. Another of our comrades, during the removal, asked Father John for a blessing to serve the church as a priest, and he received this blessing. Let me note by the way. Of our entire squad who filmed with Father John, only two did not put on sacred robes. Others either took monastic vows or became priests. And these two, who later gave themselves to the world in the broadest sense of the word, were people of secular origin. By chance they ended up in the Academy and felt like guests all the time... Therefore, leaving the Academy, they got lost somewhere in the whirlpool of a busy social life, from the charms and temptations of which they did not want and could not renounce. Finally we were removed. Father John quickly got up and went to quickly be with those who were waiting for him down there with such zeal and patience. We closely surrounded him on all sides and did not walk, but almost ran with him down the steep stairs, supporting him along the way by hand and continuing to besiege him with various questions. And there was something to ask: each of us was loaded with relatives and friends to a sufficient extent with various requests to Father John. Halfway through our journey from under the cloudy spheres to the ground, we had to pass a room in which we examined and bought photographic cards of Father John. In this room, contrary to all expectations, a table with little “consolation” awaited us. The mistress of the house earnestly asked Father John to bless the meal. Father John gave in to her persistent requests. We were, of course, invited to share his “comfort.” Father John poured himself a glass of wine, also poured a glass for each of us and clinked glasses with everyone, while expressing various good wishes to us. There was no end to our delight. We did not retreat for one minute from Father John. One asked for a glass of tea, from which he had just sipped a little. Another asked him to put sugar in a glass, a third to bless the glass. This is what everyone who is with Father John almost always does. While treating us, Father John asked us not to be shy and to eat everything offered to us by our hospitable hosts. At the same time, he expressed a very remarkable view of food. "Many," he said, "are proud of a good meal, a table, and, eating rich dishes, they seem to be performing a sacred act. Food for them is some kind of deity, which they bow to, whom they serve. But what is higher: man or food? Of course, man. Everything will decay, everything will be destroyed, only one person will remain to exist. Therefore, we should not revere food, no matter what its quality, but look at it as if from above. By tasting the best products of nature, we honor them by taking them into ourselves.” With such a view of food, a person will no longer serve and worship it slavishly. And indeed, with such a view of food, the center of gravity completely shifts. Food will be at the feet of a person, no matter how luxurious it may be. We overwhelmed Father John with purchased cards, asking him to sign them for us as a souvenir. We felt sorry for Father John, because he had to write a lot. But, on the other hand, each of us wanted to bring cards to our relatives and friends with his own signature. At this time, Father John, at my request, signed a large portrait intended for one professor of our Academy, whom I especially deeply honored and respected. Of course, I delivered this portrait to its destination. Having satisfied a good half of our requests, Father John left us to go to the people who were there, on the street, patiently waiting for him. We almost followed him to our apartment, where he promised to visit us too. When we arrived at our apartment, all the rooms were already full of people. The crowd was tense. And it’s clear why. Soon they will be speaking “mouth to mouth” with him. Soon they will touch his clothes, hear his voice addressed to one or another in particular, defining the personal grief of each person. None of them had ever seen their dear father as close as they were soon to see him. Such closeness somehow involuntarily electrified everyone. There was a large crowd at the gate of our house, which the police did not allow into the yard. Otherwise, there would have been a terrible crush and no one would have seen anything and would not have had time to ask the good priest about anything. We didn't have to wait long for our dear father. The familiar “coming” was heard, and we all rushed to meet Father John again. They picked him up from the stroller by the arms and began to squeeze through the crowd with him. Seeing our zeal, Father John smiled and, joking good-naturedly, said: - We must enter to you through narrow gates and a narrow path. The conversation began again; question after question poured in again. Everyone was in a hurry to ask what they did not have time to ask Father John in the photograph. Father John continued to answer us all willingly. At that time we showed him a letter from one of our acquaintances, infected with the spirit of Stundism and Tolstoyism. Being a sincere person, he fervently asked Father John for permission to his perplexities. Father John began to read this entire long message aloud. It spoke about the soullessness of our worship, about its detachment and isolation from the reality of life, about the need to reform our entire life, bringing it closer to the life of sectarians, distinguished by strict morals, wealth, good undertakings and many other bright sides. At the same time, Father John said many remarkable and worthy things. Many deep, vital and very truthful comments. He spoke about the great significance of our worship, that very service that the young skeptic so diligently denied, about the great, unparalleled significance of the Christian church... Further, Father John told us about the divine service he had just performed, about the extraordinary joy with which it fills the soul of the clergyman, about the power that it gives to everyone who prays. They talked about the masses of people who were now in the church, and about the possible influence of the shepherds on them, about the great power of shepherding, unsuspected by many, which no other force in the world can compare with. He spoke about the conditions of shepherding and asceticism at the present time. "Life is not bad even now. The living conditions are the same, and the people are the same as before; we just need to work and carry out the same feat that the early Christians did. And in the distant future, life will not change at all. Workers and activists are always possible and will always be welcomed by everyone. I say again, you just need to work and work on yourself day and night. The Kingdom of God is on earth, within us, and not somewhere out there, in distant spaces suns and constellations, not on some mysterious islands unknown to us.” Father John also gave answers to all the other perplexities that our young co-questioner expressed in his letter to him. The answers struck us with clarity, vitality and truthfulness. We all admired them. And one could not help but be surprised when, with amazing simplicity and ease, all conflicts, apparently insoluble, were resolved, all syllogisms, apparently the most indestructible, were eliminated and smashed into dust. In every word of his one could hear an amazingly deep faith: we listened “not to pretentious words,” but saw “a manifestation of spirit and power.” Such a word involuntarily, somehow mystically captivates listeners and tunes them to a new tone. People who own such a word are the leaders of the people and the sovereign rulers of human souls and hearts!.. While we were talking with Father John, the cordial and hospitable hostess prepared a small meal and asked Father John to bless it. No matter how much Father John was in a hurry, he agreed to spend a few more minutes with us. Like P.P. Schauman, he affectionately treated us all with gifts from his admirers. There was one glass on the table, but there were many of us. Father soon got out of this difficulty. - Gentlemen, you and I have one cup of life: and there is one cup on the table. Let’s drink from the same cup,” he said. He poured himself a glass, drank a little from it and began to treat us one by one with what was left there, pouring the glass again when there was very little left in it. Approaching each of us, he said something sweet, cordial, affectionate, and kind. Some of us were approached twice, others three times. He came up to me twice. How simple, sweet, cordial and kind everything was here. Then Father John cut the white bread himself and began to treat it to all of us in turn. Blessings and good wishes were heard. First one head, then another, the youths disappeared in the arms of their dear father. He kissed some on the forehead, on the head. How good it was for us then. We all had not only one soul, but also one body. None of us wanted these minutes to ever stop. But Father John had long been awaited in the neighboring rooms. We took a lot of his precious time. No matter how pleasant it was for us, it was time to say goodbye to us. Having blessed us once again, Father John left us and went into the next room. Touched to the depths of my soul by everything I had just seen, heard, felt in my heart, I went out into the yard. It was a beautiful sunny day. The air is abundantly filled with freshness, surrounded by blossoming greenery everywhere. It was somehow unusually soft and warm. Behind the gates, which were locked, the voices of people were heard waiting for the priest. As I stood in deep thought, turning over in my memory everything I had seen, something flashed in the air not far from me. This something rushed past me so quickly that I did not even have time to clearly distinguish its outlines. I went to the place where, after this aerolite, a dull sound was heard from the fall of this “something” on the damp ground. What happened? When I approached that place, I saw a pilgrim rising from the ground with a knapsack over his shoulders, shod in bast shoes. The poor man so wanted to get into the fenced courtyard that, not being able to get into it through the gates, he decided to “climb in somewhere else.” He climbed a tree and wanted to climb over the fence from it, but somehow he stumbled and traveled in an unexpected way to the ground, only managing to turn over in the air with his knapsack. But soon... Father John was already leaving our house, surrounded by people and flooded with sunlight. His face seemed preoccupied, his gaze was directed somewhere into the distance. It was as if he didn't see the crowd. Everyone crowded towards him, caught his hands, grabbed him by the skirts of his cassock, asked him in several voices, others fervently prayed for something. All these are ordinary scenes where Father John appears. Father not only blessed and gave spiritual alms to the poor sufferers and martyrs of life, but also generously endowed many with material alms. Finally, we sat down dear priest. The gates opened, a strong, playful horse quickly rolled the carriage. We followed our dear guest with our eyes for a long time. A motley crowd ran behind him, surrounding his carriage on all sides. As if it were some kind of special honor guard. From their fast running, the bags of those running were dangling over their shoulders, hats and scarves were flying off, and their hair was flapping. At first, many did not lag behind the horse, still surrounding the carriage on all sides. Then the crowd began to thin out. Many began to fall behind a little and return back. But there were several such fast walkers who did not lag behind the horse by a single turn. Father John hid from us, surrounded by these few, but very zealous companions. They say that such zeal moves Father John to tears, and he sometimes stops in the middle of the road to caress those running behind him. At first it seemed to me very cruel of Father John not to pay attention to such a zealous crowd and not to meet their ardent desires. But then I realized that only deep love for people forced him to do this at these moments. If he began to stop everywhere and everywhere, then he would not even visit a hundredth part of those sick and unfortunate who are waiting for him everywhere, he would not have time to say at least two or three words to the thousands of people who came to him from everywhere. At these moments I involuntarily remembered one story. One secular person told one archpastor that the apostles walked on foot, and today’s archpastors ride on four-wheeled carriages. The archpastor wittily remarked to his interlocutor that then the flock itself ran after the shepherds, but now you can’t catch them even on all fours. Even now, far from in early Christian times, so many people follow Father John that he is even forced to flee from the crowd on the fastest horse, so as not to be completely taken prisoner by it. Many outsiders, I heard, blame Father John for his popularity. But the question is: is he looking for her? He is not looking and has not been looking. On the contrary, he everywhere and always avoids any manifestation of gratitude, hiding from various deputations and popular demonstrations. When he saw the crowd of thousands meeting him, he repeatedly said: – What should I do with them? Teach me where to hide from them... Father John tried to ask his admirers from the church pulpit to behave more modestly and not arrange triumphs for him. In rare conversations with representatives of the press, he simply almost begged them not to print about cases of healing by his prayers and not to write about his activities at all. Finally, he came up with various secret entrances and exits, but all in vain! The more he avoided publicity and popularity, the more he was persecuted. In the end, having given up on everything, he became completely indifferent to everything around him and did not seem to notice what was happening around him. Whether he is crushed by the crowd, he will stand and wait until someone frees him, or the besiegers themselves become more lenient. Whether they meet him or see him off, he bows, patiently listens to everything and, like an outside witness, goes on his way. During all thirty-five years of priestly service, Father John not only never caused any demonstration, but did not even give the slightest reason to suspect him of wanting to become the subject of demonstrative celebration. Moreover, when he only noticed a desire on someone’s part to exploit his popularity, he abruptly and decisively broke off his relationship with them. Where was Father John going so quickly now? Many were waiting for the peace of the day, but he was not waiting for Father John. And those who had worked little rested at noon, only Father John had no time to rest. He was eagerly awaited by those who had come from afar and stayed in the House of Industriousness, in private apartments, and in hotels. And sometimes there are so many people who come that they even huddle in attics, haylofts, and the porch of the cathedral. No apartment can accommodate them all. He had to visit everyone, say a word of affection, consolation, encouragement to everyone, provide material and, perhaps, other help, more important and sometimes more necessary and valuable... And in the evening, without going home, he had to go to St. Petersburg, where many were also expecting him, and his prayer, and his help, and his word of affection, encouragement and consolation were needed there. For Father John’s journeys from Kronstadt to St. Petersburg and back, there is even a special steamship of the merchant P. A. Motin, “Dear”, given at the entire disposal of the priest. As a result, the priest never has to waste time waiting for ships that leave the pier only at certain hours and minutes. The same merchant takes him to the shore on the ice on a sleigh in winter with extraordinary speed. By car, Father John travels mostly with courier trains. Quite often, even a special separate train is equipped for it. But, despite these exceptionally happy circumstances, which give him the opportunity to move unusually quickly from one place to another, Father John manages to visit little by little - and even then not everywhere. This is how Father John's Day passes. From early morning until late at night, he is always in public and on his feet. The life of Father John is not divided into public and private, like that of all people in general. He has no private life of his own. It belongs entirely to the people. A general, engineer, scientist, orator, minister, returning home, ceases to be a general, scientist, orator, minister. Each of them at this time devotes himself to family, acquaintances, innocent entertainment, and hours of relaxation. This never happened to Father John, they say, not once for thirty-five years. Returning home after long and tedious work, he finds a lot of people wanting to see him, dozens of new urgent invitations, hundreds of letters and requests. Each of us, who has our own corner and home, has a certain hour to refresh ourselves with food. Does Father John have such time? - I asked some in Kronstadt. They say he only comes home for breakfast or lunch a few times a year. Where does he have lunch? Everywhere and nowhere, always and, one might say, never. Due to the multitude of visitors, he can never set an hour for visiting and almost never gets to attend any supper. Therefore, he has to patiently be content with little. There he will eat some fruit, here he will drink a glass of tea, here he will eat a piece of bread or a few cookies. It often happens that during the whole day he does not have to eat properly. But he does not seek this, being completely content with the little that God sends him here or there during the day. Father John sleeps surprisingly little. It is not even always the case that three or four hours of deep night a day belong entirely to Father John. Quite often he spends them in a railway carriage, in a carriage, and sometimes he does not sleep at all. What a gigantic work! And he has to endure this labor not for just one day or several days, but for whole months, years, decades. Involuntarily I remembered at these moments our constant complaints about nerves, lack of sleep, malnutrition, and the notorious overwork. If each of us worked as hard as Father John works, I don’t know what would happen to us and what stories we wouldn’t come up with in our justification and apology. Maybe some people could not stand it just by imagining such work and would get sick. They talk a lot about the miracles of Father John. I have not seen them with my own eyes, but I fully believe the stories about them. In my deep conviction, this difficult life of Father John alone represents the greatest miracle. Only a person with grace can endure for so many years such a mass of continuous labor, tension, and so many different kinds of hardships. Oh, if only we could do at least a hundredth part of what Father John does throughout our entire lives, apparently without any labor or effort. Oh, how happy we would be then! Ivan Shcheglov. With Father John of Kronstadt I would like to tell you about my trip in the smallest detail, because when in the center stands such an extraordinary person as the Archpriest of the Kronstadt St. Andrew’s Cathedral, John Sergiev, then involuntarily everything that concerns her acquires significance. My trip to Kronstadt coincided with August 28, that is, the eve of the celebration of the day of “Beheading of John the Baptist.” At three o'clock in the afternoon I left St. Petersburg by boat, at four o'clock and thirty minutes I was already in Kronstadt and almost at the same time, the next day, I was returning back. But the impressions I made during this short period turned out to be so new, strong and varied that only after almost six months I was able to sort them out with due conscientiousness. On the Kronstadt pier, among the confusion of droshky arriving and departing, two pot-bellied stagecoaches, like our so-called “cuckoos” that go to the St. Petersburg Side and to the Intercession, were dozing complacently. One of these “cuckoos” was heading towards St. Andrew’s Cathedral, that is, the place of service of Father John and, therefore, to the final goal of my journey. I have already been warned that on Cathedral Square itself the arrival of the stagecoach is always awaited by the owners of temporary furnished shelters, of which there are more than a dozen and which, of course, exist solely in the name of Father John. It was not without difficulty that I found one seat in the “cuckoo,” and after about a quarter of an hour the stagecoach stopped on Cathedral Square. Looking out into the light of God, I saw five or six women in dark headscarves, fussily looking for guests between the passengers getting out. More than others, one small, lean woman, all in black and with a black scarf on her head, inspired my confidence, and from a distance she looked exactly like a nun. She smiled so touchingly, respectfully and with such touching tenderness she convinced me not to doubt people and to stop in the next alley at Matryona Markovna Snegireva’s, that I handed her my travel bag and obediently followed to the address. Mrs. Snegireva’s home was located two steps from St. Andrew’s Cathedral; The room allotted to me was distinguished by its coziness and cleanliness, and in addition, from its only window - on the contrary, in the corner two-story house, one could see two curtained windows at the top, marking the modest apartment of Father John. The room allotted to me - a narrow one, with one window, cluttered on one side with a folding bed, and on the other with a painted chest - resembled either a monastic cell or an old merchant's chapel: in the corners, on the walls, in the piers there were images, icons, paintings of religious content, photographs of Father John and portraits of various clergy. The entire corner on the left side of the window was occupied with images, and the entire right one was decorated with images. After drinking tea, I went to the famous St. Andrew's Cathedral. The all-night vigil proceeded in its usual order: the choristers sang regularly, the priest served splendidly, and the deacon retained a rare sense of proportion with his extensive vocal means; but there were few people in the church, and one could not help but feel a tense, decorous, everyday mood in the air. Even the church itself, it seemed to me, in the absence of its inspired shepherd, looked lonely and as if abandoned. At the end of the service, I headed back to my “monastery” and, passing through the kitchen, asked the hostess and Feodosia Minaevna (she was the one who met me on the pier), who were diligently busy around the stove, to give me something to eat. For some reason, my request led both women to extreme confusion, and in very vague words, accompanied by constant apologies, they made it clear to me that it would not be entirely convenient to have a large dinner before tomorrow, since the priest sometimes at the end of mass, if there are many visitors, invites those who wish to “unite with God,” that is, he makes a general confession and then partakes of the Holy Mysteries. I contented myself with a portion of iced tea and a piece of rushwood for the night. On the window I found a book, previously unknown to me, “Description of the celebration of the thirty-fifth anniversary of Father John” - a touching and instructive description, and immersed myself in reading, occasionally listening to women’s voices behind the door of the next room. It was already quite late, and, finishing reading the last page of the book, I was already thinking about going to the side room, when my neighbors suddenly started singing some kind of song in a friendly chorus. At first, I must admit, I was puzzled by this circumstance, but after listening carefully to the words of the song, I made a completely unexpected and touching discovery: it turned out that the song being sung was nothing more than a free transcription into voices of a poem written for the anniversary of Father John by a Kronstadt beggar and included in the anniversary collection that I had just reviewed. The poem by a representative of the Kronstadt beggars, distinguished by its extreme naivety of form, but poured out from a sincere heart, obviously found an echo in the kindred hearts of the common people. This harmonious chant is still heard in my ears, tenderly resounding in the silence of the night... To my shame and chagrin, I overslept. It was already a quarter past four when I finally woke up to the loud knocking. The room was still in twilight, but from the courtyard I could already hear the dull sounds of the cathedral bell as a stern reproach, and Feodosia Minaevna had long been waiting for me outside the door, completely ready to go. I quickly got dressed and resignedly, shivering from the morning cold, followed my obligatory leader, who knew some secret ways to penetrate the most advanced place in the church. But, halfway from the cathedral, she met some gossip in a knitted scarf, whispered anxiously about something and suddenly turned sharply into an alley to the right. It turned out that Father John this time served mass in the Duma church, where today there was a “chapel”. I had to rush to the Duma. Along the dim streets of Kronstadt, past sleepy houses with sleeping janitors and closed shutters, groups of people hurriedly moved from all over to the same place. If we had waited five minutes, we would have had to return: the Duma church was already packed. Feodosia Minaevna excitedly whispered in my ear that the priest was already serving, while simultaneously blinking at me expressively at the free passage on the right, near the bars. I hastily handed her the memorial that was in my pocket, with the greatest difficulty I squeezed forward to the indicated place... and finally saw Father John... He stood in the right aisle, in front of the singers, with his back to the worshippers, in front of the icon entwined with flowers, and, impulsively making the sign of the cross, proclaimed the canon to John the Baptist. I intentionally write “proclaimed,” and not “read,” because Father John’s prayer had very little in common with the usual reading of most priests... Loudly, sharply and nervously, as if tearing every word from his heart, he pronounces the prayer, and from these sounds, filling the restrained silence of a crowded church, there really is a breath of something holy and higher. Everyone and everyone powerfully feels that this is not a simple reading in front of a revered icon, but, as it were, a living conversation with a visible and existing Being. “Holy Great John, Forerunner of the Lord, pray to God for us!” - the clergy interrupts his last words, and I strain all my hearing to make out the next ones. “To the Baptist and Forerunner of Christ!” – a familiar, soulful voice is heard again. - “Always immersed in bodily passions, direct my mind and tame the waves of passions, so that in the silence of the divine I will sing songs to Thee!” Oh, this is “I will sing songs to Thee!” If only I were able to convey how it was pronounced!.. I am sure that from this fiery exclamation more than one heart trembled in the church. But now the canon is read, Matins is over, and Father John turns to face the people for a blessing. Is this really Father John? I see in front of me an ordinary village priest, of average height and thin, with gentle, childish-light eyes, a light brown beard and an ugly, pure sexton braid hanging out at the back of his head over the collar of his cassock. Here Father John retires to the altar, mass begins, and I still cannot get rid of the strange, dual impression he made. In the middle of the mass, during the reading of the Gospel, the sun looked out of the church window, and one of its slanting rays flooded the entire interior of the small altar with light. Father John, standing on the right side of the throne and brightly illuminated to the waist, stood out as if in a frame, and his whole figure then - with reverently concentrated facial features, prayerfully crossed hands on his chest, in the sparkle of priestly vestments - was captured with some indescribable, downright unearthly luminosity. No, such moments can only be noted and carried into the heart for life, but the pen to describe them is hurtful and helpless. By the end of the mass it became clear that there would be no “general confession”; nevertheless, there was no shortage of communicants and communicants, and what was especially striking was the abundance of women in scarves and warriors, with babies in their arms. Already at the beginning of the “cherubim”, a whole line of these scarves and warriors stretched out, patiently and persistently paving the way to the pulpit... To my surprise, the rite of communion for little birthday boys and newborns took place in silence, without the usual roars and squeals in such cases. But there were so many little communicants and communicants that I thought: “Lord, there will never be an end to this!” However, Father John soon retired to the altar, and the young priest continued communion. Almost simultaneously with the departure of the priest to the altar, a church watchman pushed forward past me with a tray on which stood a whole mountain of telegrams and letters. Finally, at the beginning of ten o'clock, mass ended; but the people not only did not think of leaving, but rallied even more closely and stubbornly in their places, impatiently awaiting the priest’s exit. A good three quarters of an hour passed. From time to time the altar door opened slightly, and one could catch a glimpse of Father John sitting in a chair by the window, now deep in reading sent telegrams, now confessing to someone, now giving orders to his assistant, a young blond psalm-reader, who either entered the altar for new orders, or went out to the crowd crowded around the church grille, besieging him with various requests and questions. Just in front of the pulpit, where Father John served, a small free passage was fenced off with a special grille, guarded at the exit by two church guards. I stood on the side of the bars and, not without envy, watched the lucky ones who, in one way or another, squeezed into the coveted fence. I, too, began to be tempted to somehow penetrate the treasured lattice to take a closer look at Father John, when suddenly the entire huge crowd filling the church swayed like one person, and a joyful whisper ran through the rows like an electric spark. Indeed, one of the side altar doors opened slightly, and Father John appeared on the threshold. What happened here, I refuse to reproduce! As soon as he appeared, the entire crowd rushed in his direction in an uncontrollable wave, crowding and crushing each other, and those standing behind the bars instantly found themselves on the very pulpit and almost knocked him off his feet. With the assistance of the psalm-reader and two watchmen, Father John quickly moved to the left aisle and took a step forward to pass from this side. It was not to be... In an instant, the same crowd, as if pushed by some elemental force, quickly darted to the left and, stretching its arms forward, interrupting each other, shouting and crying, crowded around the church grille, blocking the path of the priest. What they were shouting about, what they were begging for, it was impossible to make out anything; the prayers and cries merged into an unclear, deafening and confused cry. Father John, squeezed into a corner, stood submissively pressed against the wall, and his tired face showed either painful melancholy or endless bitterness at the sight of this frantically restless crowd at his feet. Two policemen who were near the watchman and several merchants stood on both sides of the path and, stretching a thick rope along the entire line, formed something like a living trellis, which looked very stable and impressive. But as soon as Father John moved forward, the rope broke with a crash, the merchants and policemen were thrown back in an instant to the opposite end of the church, and the crowd, mingling and knocking each other down, surrounded Father John with a dense, impenetrable wall. Now Father John suddenly seemed to disappear, and for some time he was not visible at all. Then suddenly this whole worrying and screaming wall swayed to the side, and I saw Father John - deathly pale, concentrated and sad, slowly, step by step, as if in a merciless vice, moving forward, with visible difficulty freeing his hand for blessing. And the closer he moved to the exit, the more persistent, merciless and loud the crowd became... This sight simply took my breath away, and I involuntarily half-closed my eyes. When I opened them, Father John was no longer in the church, and the church itself was now completely deserted. Only in the corner before the “eve” was some God-fearing old woman praying on her knees, and an old watchman was gloomily sweeping the floor, on which were scattered pieces of rope, ladies’ thread gloves, a piece of a knitted scarf and other traces of a recent hurricane. My eyes met the sympathetic gaze of the old man. - Lord, what is this?! Is it really always like this with you? The watchman sighed sadly. - Eh, dear master, if only it were always like this... But then, suddenly, on the eve of the Dormition, people found themselves - because they knocked the priest off his feet. - That is, how was it “knocked down”? - And so, they completely dropped it to the ground and walked over it like an ant. “It is known, lamb of God,” he stood up, crossed himself and at least said a word. The old man just waved his hand and began sweeping. I admit, I came out completely depressed by everything that had happened. But I no longer found Father John on the street, which clearly showed that he had safely made it home today. The people calmly dispersed in different directions, and only a group of beggars made noise at the entrance, obviously sharing the priest’s mite. Feodosia Minaevna was waiting for me right there with a bundle in her hands and obvious anxiety in her face. She warned me that I had to hurry home quickly, because the priest would probably be visiting “shelters” today, and that I had to be ready every minute, because no one knew who he would call on first. We set off on a quick march home. The apartment, in anticipation of the arrival of Father John, took on a completely festive look. All rooms were washed, cleaned and tidy. Everything around was shining: the frames of the icons were shining, the tablecloth of the prayer table was shining with its whiteness, the copper handles on the doors were shining, even the bent tin candlestick standing on my window was shining in the sun. But the most important radiance was, of course, on the faces of the pilgrims and pilgrims gathered in the spacious room next to my room. (Thanks to a separate room, I won the privilege of a separate prayer service with the secret hope of talking with Father John for at least five minutes face to face, while my neighbors were counting on a common prayer.) The pilgrims were dressed in a festive way - in bright scarves and colorful calicoes. There were only about six men: one merchant, one soldier, two artisans, some haggard man with a blue chin, apparently a provincial actor, and finally some official of a department unknown to me with a teenage son in a high school uniform. While waiting for Father John, I walked from my room into the corridor and back, went out into the spacious courtyard adjacent to the outbuilding, and even beyond the gate - and each time I was amazed at the phenomenal mobility of Feodosia Minaevna: she stood in the middle of the street and, somehow, like a Cossack, shielding herself from the sun, peered into the distance to see if she could see a droshky with Father John; then suddenly she would disappear completely elusively into the next alley, then fly out of there headlong through the gate and onto the porch and, putting her hand to her lips like a trumpet, she cried: “I’ve passed to the Meshkovs!” or: “Prayers with the Glushkovs!” And then another time her piercing cry was heard from the yard: “He’s coming! He’s coming!” - and everyone rushed, pushing towards the windows, and saw how the carriage with Father John and the psalm-reader flashed past, perhaps to the other end of the city. At every cry, I ran out into the yard and invariably found Feodosia Minaevna at the gate in a tragic pose, with her scarf slid to the side, tearfully whispering: - What is this? Past again! Again!.. There were as many as five such false alarms. Every time, walking along the corridor, I came across a picturesque group: at a large garbage tub, covered with a board and turned into a desk, sat a shaggy young man in a faded jacket with torn elbows and, constantly ruffling his hair, vigorously moved a pen over a sheet of white paper; On the sides of the curly-haired man stood motionless two strapping women, both holding a nickel in their hands and with some kind of tender attention following the lines being written with their eyes. The young man turned out to be a scribe, copying poems about Father John for those who wished and, on occasion, even composing them; the women were sisters, both from distant provinces, and the nickels were prepared as a reward for poetic work. This time the poem belonged to the clerk himself and, if it was not distinguished by a special harmony of rhymes, it was written sincerely and, most importantly, expressed, in the words of the women, “the very feelings on which everyone was anchored.” The title read: Dear Father, Father John (Kronstadt). On the day of the Angel, October 19, 1890. The most humble offering. Since the poem itself is quite long and verbose, I limit myself to extracting only its initial stanzas: Our good shepherd John, People from different countries come to you He hurries to pray at the pulpit. Needless to say, the poet was flattered when I asked him to rewrite this poem for me, giving him a double fee. By the way, from his words I understood that he was not the only one composing such poems dedicated to Father John, and that there was quite an extensive literature, most of which migrated with pilgrims and pilgrims to the most remote cities and villages. While the poet was diligently scribbling a second copy of his poem for me, I sat down nearby, waiting, when Feodosia Minaevna flew into the room and joyfully shouted: In an instant, everyone present jumped up from their seats and began to rush around the room, pale and lost. But, alas! Father John actually arrived, but went upstairs to a nearby shelter, to see some visiting sick lady. The excitement subsided. The landlady quickly entered my room, slammed both halves of the door leading to the common room, and barricaded them with a chair. Then she leaned close to my ear and mysteriously whispered to me: - Father will certainly come to you first... So if you have any special business with him, I can warn him. I thanked her and explained that I intended to tell Father John about my business in private. The hostess was not at all embarrassed and remarked matter-of-factly: - No, because what I mean is that the other one will be lost out of habit and will not be able to type the right words, but the priest, you know, has no time! Well, God is merciful, everything will turn out well! - she sighed and, leaving, she added, as if to herself: - Mark my words, it will come to you first! And she slammed the door behind her, into which Father John could enter any minute... I looked at my watch: the hand showed half past two... I felt my heart: it was beating intensely and joyfully and anxiously... Another ten agonizing minutes passed, which seemed like an eternity to me, and suddenly I heard some dull noise in the corridor, someone’s piercing scream, frantic cries: “Father, save!.. Father, bless!..” - and the door to my closet swung open... As I remember now, he entered very quickly, with a young and hasty gait, with a burning, piercing gaze, with a bright blush in his nervously trembling cheeks, with a light brown lock scattered across the back of his head... In his figure, in his movements, in the first sound of his voice, some kind of indescribably wonderful inspiration was felt. A completely new Father John appeared before me than the one I had seen just a few hours earlier in the Duma church - and in that one elusive, stunning moment I suddenly understood him completely, in all his greatness, as perhaps I never would have understood him in other, calmer moments... I don’t know why, but I’m terribly offended that I don’t remember what color of cassock he was wearing then and what crosses adorned his chest... Yes, I don’t remember any of this, because I was completely captured by only one thing: how he entered, how he looked, and how, after that, an authoritative and fatherly-heartfelt voice was heard near me: - Well, tell me, what do you need?.. Of course, I said what I needed, of course, Father John read a prayer and had an interview... and, of course, the kind reader will allow me to remain silent about the intimate details of all this. I think it will be quite enough if I say that I was completely depressed and destroyed by the great heart knowledge of the Kronstadt shepherd!.. Yes, this man, who had just entered and saw me for the first time in his life, after just five minutes spoke to me as if he had lived under the same roof with me for a good ten years... And in addition, in what voice he spoke! From which the heart of a child opened and softened like wax, and involuntary tears squeezed the throat and prevented it from escaping in words of simmering gratitude. At the end of his short interview, Father John kissed me firmly on the forehead and said: – Thank you for your trust, my dear!.. Thank you for your trust!.. Will I ever forget the incomparable, touching tenderness with which these words were spoken? This is the subtlest, most indelible impression of my life, and it can only die with me!.. My poor neighbors! How exhausted they must have been during my interview with the priest, although, in general, it did not exceed twenty minutes! There was no doubt that they were eavesdropping behind the door; that is, in fact, they were not eavesdropping on the content of the conversation, which was being conducted in a low voice, but, obviously, they were trying to approximately guess by the sounds of voices and movements whether it would soon end. When Father John pronounced his final words loudly and clearly, the chair barricading the next door began to move, the halves of the door creaked pitifully and, suddenly, quite unexpectedly - so that I barely had time to grab the chair so that it would not fall at the priest’s feet - they swung open noisily, and a multi-headed, discordant crowd crowded the threshold, eagerly following the slightest word and movement of Father John. “Father... will you come to us soon?” a woman’s cry burst out from the crowd. Father John stood up, shook his head and walked into the common room. But the crowd was now so crowded around Father John that it completely shielded him from me, and throughout the prayer service I did not have to see him, but only hear him. However, I did not lose hope of seeing Father John closely again, and when the prayer service ended and a familiar hand with a sprinkler appeared over the heads of those praying and began sprinkling holy water around, I began to squeeze through to venerate the cross. Just as according to the Gospel, the first are always last, so I now found myself one of the last in the tail of the pilgrims. I barely managed to venerate the cross, because the women surrounding Father John squeezed him so tightly from all sides that he, as in church, had to retreat to the opposite corner of the room. - Well, why do that?.. Well, let me go! – Father John meekly protested. But nothing helped, and the crush only intensified: one woman shoved some letters at him “from the province, from sick relatives”; the other - a ruble note in memory of the soul of some Kondraty, probably the deceased husband; the third, apparently a merchant, for some reason was putting in a whole bundle of apples and the like. In a word, without our hostess Father John would have had a very bad time. Unceremoniously pushing aside the believing women and affectionately saying: “Darlings, this can’t be done! It’s even completely impossible!.. Give the priest a break! Give the dear one at least a cup of tea!” - She squeezed her way to the priest, carefully took him by the elbow and led him to the tea table. Meanwhile, the psalm-reader took letters and money from the women and asked each of them what was the matter. Finally, not without some danger, a boiling samovar was carried over the heads of the pilgrims - and tea was poured. But that was not the case. As soon as Father John raised the cup to his lips, the crowd, seized by a new impulse, rushed in his direction and almost overturned the tea table. Father John immediately put the cup back, blinked at the psalmist and quickly headed towards the exit. Of course, the crowd rushed after him, through the kitchen and the corridor to the meadow of the yard, where a one-horse droshky was waiting at the gate for Father John. My God, who wasn’t there! The entire spacious courtyard was filled with people, ranging from ladies with plush reticules and hats to a bunch of half-naked and drunken tramps walking completely freely in front of the gate. This bunch of barefooters among the rest of the well-dressed crowd left a deep impression. I couldn’t help but feel that all these outcasts of the world, who barely dared to show their beggarly rags to the light of God and who at other times were hiding in distant and dark corners, here, under the hand of Father John, seemed to recognize themselves as equal brothers in Christ, and in their sparkling eyes from under their brows I caught a joyful spark of fleeting triumph. Needless to say, it was not so easy for Father John to get to his carriage. Hastily blessing the people, giving change to the tramps who squeezed through to him, quickly answering the requests and questions that rained down on him from all sides, he finally found himself near the droshky. The young psalm-reader, who accompanied Father John, with a deft movement picked him up and placed him in the droshky. In the blink of an eye, he found himself on the droshky himself and, tightly grasping the priest in view of the crowd excited around him, shouted to the coachman: “Let’s go!” This quick maneuver, however, did not prevent some hunchbacked tramp with a torn collar from climbing onto the droshky and sitting at the very feet of Father John, and clinging to the back of the droshky seat from some crying woman in a billowing red skirt. The horse rushed, the crowd fled... and the carriage with Father John, the young psalm-reader, the skinned tramp and the crying woman hanging from behind with her red skirt, disappeared from the eyes of the public. Having recovered a little from the influx of impressions I had experienced, I inquired when the ship was leaving for St. Petersburg. The ship left at four o'clock sharp; I only had half an hour left at my disposal - there was no time to hesitate. I paid the hostess, thanked her for her troubles and, having collected my belongings, accompanied by her low bows and great wishes, left the house. Feodosia Minaevna caught up with me at the gate and, not without a second thought, of course, volunteered to carry my bag to the first cab driver. Walking along the now completely deserted alley, I involuntarily stopped my eyes on a familiar window that belonged to the modest apartment of a Kronstadt shepherd. “You don’t know where Father John is now?” I asked Feodosia Minaevna. “And now he is praying in a hotel with a visiting general.” “And then he will serve two or three prayer services “with the townspeople” and leave by boat for Rambov. – And from Rambov to St. Petersburg? - And from Rambov - to St. Petersburg. – When will he come back? - Yes, at one o’clock after midnight, not earlier. But he will certainly return, because he is celebrating early mass tomorrow at “Industriousness.” - Come on, Feodosia Minaevna, is Father John really sleeping?.. Really, I can’t believe it!.. Feodosia Minaevna smiled mysteriously at my question. - Well, there’s no way to determine this... It’s just like when you have to. He, you know, has a very special dream, as people say - “a well-fed dream.” Another time he sits with his thoughts on the ship, suddenly throws his head back and falls soundly asleep for half an hour... But what do you think? And here the dear priest will not be given peace. They’ll start walking around and whisper: “Father has fallen asleep! Father is sleeping!..” And just like that, the cabman is coming to meet us,” Feodosia Minaevna unexpectedly concluded and rushed forward to bargain. A quarter of an hour later I was already approaching the steamship pier... The words of Father John are given in the author's note.