From the history of Russian elders

I. In search of the path of Christ. (From the history of childhood and youth of the Moldavian elder Archimandrite Paisius Velichkovsky). Russian monastic eldership in our pre-revolutionary past was little studied and insufficiently appreciated by Russian society. In recent years, thanks to a number of rogues falsely called elders, the concept of eldership has become especially clouded, confused and contradictory. So many lies and dirt have been heaped on the eldership that even the very word “eldership” has begun to be pronounced by many with embarrassment and awkwardness, and by others even with contempt and disgust, as something far from unscrupulous. Such a darkening of the concept of “old age,” however, is not surprising - anyone familiar with ascetic literature knows how difficult it can be for an inexperienced person to distinguish an imaginary elder from a true one. You need to come close and take a close look at monastic life, you need to become well acquainted with the patristic ascetic literature, you need to know the history of the eldership, learn the life and activities of its true representatives in order to correctly judge the eldership. Russian eldership, like Russian monasticism, is a highly original and unique phenomenon of Russian church-folk life, closely fused with the spirit and traditions of ancient Orthodoxy. It came from the very depths of people's life, from the most intimate and holiest aspirations of the Russian soul. The spirit of our Russian Orthodox piety was reflected with particular brightness in our eldership. It would be a mistake to see the essence of our piety, as some believe, in fanatical self-torture, or in formal ritual belief. Weighed down by the sinful filth and vanity of the world, the Russian soul longs to surround itself with such an environment, to give itself such impressions that with special strength and clarity would imprint on it the holy face of Christ and would unite it with Christ, would lead it to Christ. The ideal of Russian Orthodox piety has always been “sitting at the feet of Christ,” reverently listening to the Gospel narrative about His deeds and sufferings, and contemplating His Most Pure Face. Our piety is more contemplative than active, more individual than social. And it is not at all similar to the piety of, say, Lutherans, which consists of studying and consciously fulfilling the commandments of God, nor is it similar to Catholic piety, the main feature of which is obedience to the confessor. From this thirst to be near Christ flows our need to be near the Most Holy Theotokos, near the Holy Saints and all other partial features of our piety, our love for divine services, for prayers, akathists, for miraculous icons and relics, our custom of not depriving even infants of communion of the Holy Mysteries of Christ. All this is neither belief nor fetishism. All this is a manifestation of living and tender love for Christ. And we believe that the grace of God, like the sun, shines on everyone and warms everyone, and itself finds access to the human heart, whether it be the heart of a baby or a criminal, and that, in addition to the conscious following of Christ, which we, of course, do not reject, there is also a subconscious, mysterious communication with Him. Our monasticism and our eldership are deeply imbued with the indicated features of Russian piety. Having perceived this peculiarity of theirs from the Russian believing soul, our elders realized it, and with it they had the opposite effect on the people’s soul. How great the importance of monastic eldership was for the Russian people in pre-revolutionary times is clearly evident from the fact that tens of thousands of Russian people of all classes came to monasteries not only to venerate shrines, or cleanse their souls with confession and communion of the Holy Mysteries, and to morally relax and refresh themselves from everyday worries and the bustle of life, but also in order to open their souls to the elder, receive advice and guidance from him, and hear a gentle word of consolation. and encouragement, to find an indication of a way out of difficult business, family and personal difficulties, to approach Christ through the elder. The Russian elders never fenced themselves off from the world with an impenetrable wall, never shunned life with its sorrows, needs and worries, and the doors of their cells were at all times open to all “the grieving and embittered, who demand God’s mercy and help,” no matter what class of society they belonged to. The Optina elder hieromonk Leo, whose cell was always overcrowded with the sick and unfortunate, was pressed by the highest spiritual authorities allegedly for violating the “schema vows,” and he always answered: “Come and look at these unfortunates who are coming to me, and you will see whether I can close the doors of my cell in front of them?” This closeness of the elders to all those who grieve and suffer is beautifully noted on the grave monument of another Optina elder, Hieromonk Ambrose, where it is written: “I was weak, as I was weak, that I might gain the weak: I became all to all, that I might save all.” Of course, the elders had their stay in the monastery, outside our ordinary worldly environment, and lived a special, unique life, but this did not alienate them from common life, but only elevated them above it, and gave them the opportunity in their monastic environment to develop and preserve in themselves that bright, peaceful, joyful and loving structure of the soul, full of simplicity and humility, which is so lacking in worldly people and for which these worldly people are drawn to monasteries. cells. The Russian monastery elder, as V.V. Rozanov rightly put it, seemed to move his cell both to the peasant’s hut and to the master’s chambers in order to soften and transform their lives with the power of his wise and lovingly patient example and instruction. Russian eldership, like Russian monasticism, is not some kind of class, caste, narrow, self-contained institution. It is, as it were, some kind of spiritual center where all the elements of Russian life converge and unite. Let us point out the following remarkable fact: of the five elders of Optina Hermitage, who successively took the place of one another, the first, Fr. Lev was one of the merchants, the second, Fr. Macarius, of the nobles, third, Fr. Ambrose, from the clergy, fourth, Fr. Joseph, from the peasants, and the fifth, Fr. Anatoly, from the philistines. Although, as we said, Russian society in general is little familiar with eldership, and vaguely imagines its nationwide spiritual significance, information about it has long begun to penetrate into Russian society and Russian literature, and some Russian writers have long since entered into direct communication with monastic elders. So N.V. Gogol came to Optina Pustyn and corresponded with the elder Fr. Makariy. Ivan Vasilyevich Kireevsky had relations with the elders Philaret (Moscow) and Macarius (Optinsky) and, together with the latter, was engaged in the publication of patristic translations of the Moldavian elder Archimandrite Paisius Velichkovsky. The son of the Moscow Lutheran super-intendent, master of classical philology at Moscow University, Konstantin Karlovich Zederholm, took monastic vows at the skete of Optina Hermitage and compiled an excellent biography of the first Optina Elder, Hieromonk Leo. The Russian philosopher and writer Konstantin Nikolaevich Leontiev, who, among other things, wrote an excellent biography of Fr., came to Optina Pustyn to live and was under the guidance of Elder Ambrose. Kliment Zederholm. People came to Optina Pustyn in 1878 to get acquainted with Fr. Ambrose, Vladimir Sergeevich Solovyov and Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky, and the latter in his novel “The Brothers Karamazov” described Optina Pustyn, the monastery located near it, and the neighboring district town of Kozelsk, and gave an artistic, albeit pale, image of Elder Ambrose in the person of Elder Zosima. The irreconcilable enemy of Orthodoxy, the great Russian writer, Count L.N. Tolstoy, loved Optina Pustyn very much, visited it several times, visited Elder Ambrose, and in his letters expressed a completely inappropriate judgment for him that “if the living and faithful image of Christ has been preserved in the hearts of the Russian people, then they owe this to none other than the monastery elders.” Shortly before his death, experiencing severe mental discord, gr. L.N. Tolstoy came to Optina Pustyn and to his sister Maria Nikolaevna, a nun of the Kazan Shamordina Pustyn, founded by Elder Ambrose 12 versts from Optina, as if seeking in these monasteries a solution to his spiritual drama and relief from his melancholy. V.V. Rozanov wrote an excellent article about Elder Ambrose and the essence of Russian eldership. Thus, some spiritual connection had long been established between the monastery elders and the Russian intelligentsia. The Russian intelligentsia has trodden the path to the elderly cells. In the Optina Pustyn cemetery nearby lie the Russian philosopher Iv. You. Elder Hieromonk Macarius of Kireevsk and Optina. On the grave of Ivan Vasilyevich there are significant words inscribed, which I quote from memory and therefore not with all literalness: “I have loved and sought wisdom from my youth. When I saw that I would find nothing else, I came to the Lord.” This spiritual connection that has arisen between the Russian intelligentsia and the Russian elders is, perhaps, the most important and necessary thing that remains for us from pre-revolutionary Russia, from which, perhaps, a new spiritually united, enlightened Russia will grow and develop. It is precisely this spiritual connection that, perhaps, refers to the prophecy of F. M. Dostoevsky that the salvation of Russia will come from the monastic cell. Wanting to bring Russian society closer to the Russian eldership, we bring to the attention of readers several essays about the founder of the modern Russian eldership, the Moldavian elder Archimandrite Paisiya Velichkovsky, a native of Poltava. Elder Paisios is the true inspirer and leader of Russian monasticism in the 19th century. With his life, writings, and activity, he caused great revival and high spiritual uplift in Russian monasticism. He created eldership not only as a present fact (this existed before in our monasteries), but also as a school, giving it a solid foundation in the patristic ascetic literature, and establishing, through his students, the rules, techniques and traditions of eldership. He reminded monasticism of the purpose of spiritual life, which consists not in external exploits, but in internal approach to God, in “spiritual work,” in constant “attention to oneself,” in the fight against one’s sinful attractions, in sanctification and enlightenment of the heart through “smart prayer.” This goal cannot be achieved without renouncing one’s sinful will, without submitting oneself to the guidance of an experienced mentor, or, in his absence, to the guidance of the Word of God and the writings of the Holy Fathers. Noticing the lack of mentors experienced in spiritual life in his time, Elder Paisios took upon himself the enormous task of translating many patristic ascetic books from Greek and correcting previous erroneous translations. In this work of his, carefully executed, lies his great merit for Russian monasticism and his invaluable contribution to Russian spiritual literature. In the monastery he founded, under his leadership, dozens of people were engaged in copying the books of the fathers in translations corrected and newly made by him and his students, and these books, first in manuscripts and then in printed editions, were widely distributed throughout Russian monasteries. With his literary works, Elder Paisius aroused among the monastics interest and love not only for the study of the fatherly books, but also for their distribution and publishing, in which Optina Pustyn subsequently worked especially hard. On strictly monastic grounds, he gathered a large monastic brotherhood in Moldova, which served as a model for Russian monasteries. Possessing a special gift for organization and unification, he created in his monastery a kind of spiritual and educational center, like an experimental Academy of Spiritual Life, where many future Russian elders were educated, who spread the teachings and covenants of Elder Paisius throughout Russian monasteries. Such are the works and merits of Elder Paisius, the restorer of strictly cenobitic monasticism and the founder of the Russian eldership of the 19th century. The essays about Elder Paisius presented to our readers are extracts from the complete biography of the Elder, compiled by us for the 200th anniversary of his birth, which occurred on December 21, 1922, based not only on printed, but also handwritten materials that have not yet appeared in print. “I searched with great diligence for a mentor and did not find one. This made me feel great sorrow. For the salvation of the soul can only be successfully achieved with the help of a true spiritual mentor, who forces himself to live according to the commandments of God. (From the conversations of Elder Paisius (Velichkovsky)). Elder Paisiy (Velichkovsky) was born on December 21, 1722 in Poltava, into the old pious family of the rector of the Poltava Assumption Cathedral, Archpriest John Velichkovsky, who enjoyed general respect and love. By the name of St. Metropolitan Peter, whose memory falls on December 21, the child was named Peter. In the fifth year of his life he lost his father, and in the seventh year he was sent by his mother to the cathedral school, where he studied the primer, book of hours, and psalter. Having learned to read, Peter indulged in “voracious” reading of books. According to him, as a child he read all the Holy Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments, the lives of the saints, the teachings of St. John Chrysostom and St. Ephraim the Syrian. From early childhood, he was fascinated by the exploits of saints and especially desert dwellers and dreamed of living, like them, in the desert, in solitude, in poverty, in work and prayer, imitating the poverty and simplicity of Christ. Already at this time, all the main qualities of his soul were revealed in him: deep devotion to God, meekness, clarity, modesty, sometimes reaching the point of timidity, and at the same time persistence and inflexibility in achieving the goal he had set for himself, constant self-deepening, prayerful composure and tenderness of spirit. When he was 12 years old, his older brother, the former rector of the cathedral after the death of his father, died. Then the mother took Peter to Kyiv, to Archbishop Rafail Zaborovsky and asked to enroll her son in the priestly position of his father and brother. The archbishop liked the boy, and at his mother’s request, he made a resolution: “to be his heir,” and ordered Peter to be sent to the Kyiv Fraternal Schools, that is, to the junior department of the Kyiv Academy. Having entered the Academy, Peter studied very diligently for the first years, but then “the thirst for monasticism began to overcome his zeal for science.” Following Christ and strict fulfillment of the Gospel commandments became his cherished goal. Being only 14 years old, he set himself the rule: 1) not to judge his neighbor, even if he saw him sin with his own eyes; 2) do not hate anyone; and 3) forgive offenses from the bottom of your heart. At the Academy, he made friends with like-minded comrades: gathering somewhere, in a quiet and secluded corner of the Brotherhood Monastery, they spent whole nights in intimate conversations about monasticism and desert life and made promises and oaths to each other not to take monastic vows and not to live in rich monasteries, where it was impossible to “imitate the poverty of Christ” and save their souls “in all suffering and distress.” “It is better,” they said, to remain in the world than, verbally renouncing worldly goods, to lead a carefree and expansive life in a monastery, to the temptation of the laity, to the desecration of the monastic image, to the eternal condemnation of one’s souls on the day of God’s Judgment.” On holidays and on free days, Peter visited the Kyiv shrines - St. Sophia Cathedral, St. Michael's Monastery, Kitaevsky Skete and, in particular, the Holy Pechersk Lavra. Here he often stayed overnight, among wanderers and pilgrims, or in nearby caves, or in the Lavra courtyard near the bell tower. When the bell rang for matins, he and the people entered the “heaven-like” great Lavra church, where he was touched by the beauty of the service and wondrous singing. Visiting the holy caves, he was imbued with their deep silence and, as if alive, saw the Pechersk saints before him. In the fraternal monastery, Peter found his first spiritual leader, Hieroschemamonk Pachomius, who had previously lived for many years in the desert and wandering. Pachomius supplied Peter with patristic books and with his stories aroused in him even more the thirst for monastic achievement. Carried away by his mood, Peter made an attempt to become a novice at the Kitaevsky monastery, but he was not accepted there, fearing his mother’s wrath. Cooling down more and more towards learning, Peter, having reached the “syntax”, completely stopped studying. Then one of his comrades, his fellow countryman, went to the prefect of the Academy, who was then Sylvester Kulebiaka, and reported to him that Velichkovsky was not doing anything, and his mother was wasting money on him in vain. The prefect sent two students to bring Velichkovsky to him, and when he appeared, the following conversation took place between them. Why did you stop studying? – asked the prefect. Peter answered firmly and definitely: “I stopped studying for three reasons. The first reason is that, having an unshakable intention to become a monk and realizing the uncertainty of the hour of death, I want to take monastic vows as soon as possible. The second reason is that from external teaching I do not feel any benefit for the soul, since I hear in it only the names of pagan gods and sages - Plato, Aristotle, Cicero... Learning wisdom from them, modern people have become completely blinded and retreated from the right path: they utter smart words, but inside they are full of darkness and darkness, and all their wisdom is only in the tongue. Not feeling the benefit of such a teaching and fearing that I myself might be corrupted by it, I left it. The third reason is as follows: looking at the fruits of this teaching in the clergy of the monastic order and noticing how they, like secular dignitaries, are in great honor and glory and in all bodily peace, adorned with expensive clothes and ride on beautiful horses and in excellent carriages (I do not say this as a condemnation, let it not be!), I am afraid and trembling, as if I myself had been in the world for a long time. Schools and having learned external wisdom and becoming a monk, not only do not fall into such, but even worse infirmities. It is for all these reasons that I left external teaching.” The prefect became angry and threatened Peter with merciless corporal punishment. Then Peter decided to flee from the Academy. Having waited until summer, he came to Poltava to see his mother for the last time. Being the only survivor of 11 children, he was the subject of her boundless love and all her hopes. Peter tried to talk to his mother about entering a monastery, but these words led her to such despair that he had to remain silent, without, however, giving up his intention in the depths of his soul. The mother had a presentiment of the grief ahead of her and, when the summer ended, she accompanied her son to Reshetilovka (36 versts from Poltava), and here, shedding tears, she begged him not to give up his studies and not to leave his mother. Peter also cried and, falling at his mother’s feet, kissed her hands and asked for her mother’s blessing. His mother blessed him and they parted. No matter how painful it was for Peter to leave his mother, in his soul he experienced deep peace and joy, realizing that he had overcome the strongest bonds of the world and, free, could now completely surrender to the One God. Upon arrival in Kyiv, he began to look for a way to fulfill his intention. His goal was to surrender to a wandering life, go to a deserted and silent place, find an experienced spiritual mentor and, under his guidance, spend his life in poverty, work, prayer and reading the Word of God and patristic books. At this time he was about 18 years old. First of all, Peter decided to go to Chernigov, where at that time his first leader in spiritual life, Hieroschemamonk Pachomius, who was already mentioned by us, lived, and ask him for advice and guidance. Leaving his things in an apartment in Kyiv, Peter agreed with an old boatman, who took him on a fragile boat along the Dnieper and Desna to Chernigov. October was already approaching, and Peter had to endure a lot of troubles and hardships along the way. Finally, he reached Chernigov. Pachomius received him with love and sent him to the Lyubech Monastery, located on the banks of the Dnieper, on the Polish border. At that time, there was a very good and experienced abbot Nikifor in the Lyubech monastery. He kindly received Peter and immediately gave him “cellar” obedience, entrusting him with managing the monastery storeroom. Peter lived in the Lyubech Monastery for about five months and here he experienced both his first monastic joys and his first temptations. When he received from the abbot his first monastic cassock made of coarse cloth, worn and dilapidated, he brought it to his cell as the greatest treasure and, before putting on it, kissed it several times. For spiritual guidance, the abbot gave Peter a book by St. John Climacus. Peter liked this book so much that he decided to copy it for himself, taking advantage of the night time free from obedience. Not having a candle, he prepared long splinters, by the light of which he copied the book. Smoke from the torch filled the room and made it difficult to breathe. Then Peter opened the window for a while, ventilated the room and got back to work. During his stay at the Lyubech Monastery, he copied more than half of the book. Sometimes the abbot appointed Peter to read at meals. And when some particularly touching life happened, and Peter read it in the way he had been taught at school, many of the monks became moved, cried and stopped eating. And some even got up from the table, surrounded Peter and listened with tears. It was good for Peter to live in Lyubech. But temptation came, and he lost his peace of mind. The monks noticed his youth and kindness. And almost everyone, not only ordinary people, but also hierodeacons and hieromonks, began to come to him and beg from him - some for wheat flour, some for millet, some for oil, etc. Seeing how they humbled themselves before him, Peter, out of shame, could not look them in the face, and, drowning out his conscience, did not dare to refuse them their requests. The cooks began to come to him and, taking advantage of his weakness, begged him to give him a double portion for the meal, assuring him that this would make the meal better. All the brothers were very pleased and praised Peter for his concern for them. Peter expressed feigned joy, but in the depths of his soul he was tormented that he was distributing monastery supplies without the knowledge and blessing of the abbot. How it would have ended is unknown, but only at one time the good abbot Nikifor was transferred to another monastery, and in his place was appointed the “learned man” German Zagorovsky, who began to rule the monastery “imperiously.” Having recognized the character of the new abbot, the brethren fell into fear and began to flee from the monastery. It was Peter's turn. For a small mistake, he was so beaten by the abbot himself and was so frightened by him that he decided to follow the general example and hide from the monastery. In the sixth week of Lent, having agreed with another novice, they crossed the ice of the Dnieper at night, safely passed the Polish guards and began their wanderings along the right bank of Ukraine, heading south. And on this new journey Peter had to experience many dangers and sorrows. At that time, the situation of Orthodox Christians in right-bank Ukraine was difficult. They were persecuted by Uniates and Polish landowners. The Haidamachina was rising. Polish teams went everywhere, pacifying and catching the Haidamaks. When Peter and his companions had already gone far to the south and in one village asked the local sexton about how they could get to Moldovlachia, they heard the following story from him: “I do not advise you to go there at the present time. Now we have soldiers traveling along all our roads to catch robbers, and if you fall into their hands, you will be in trouble. They hate Orthodox Christians. Recently there was such a case in our village. My predecessor, fearing denunciation from the enemies of the Orthodox faith, while reading the Creed during the liturgy, inserted the word “true” in the eighth member of the symbol instead of the Uniate “and son”, and in this way for some time covered up his Orthodox reading of the Creed. However, over time, he was nevertheless reported to a local landowner that he was not reading the creed in Uniate. Having learned about this, the landowner took the soldiers with him and came to the church during the liturgy. When the sexton stepped into the middle of the church to read the creed, the landowner came close to him and began to listen to his every word. The sexton understood the purpose for which the landowner approached him and began to read the symbol especially slowly, loudly and solemnly, and when he reached the eighth member, he was filled with the grace of St. Spirit, shouted even louder and more clearly: “And in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the Life-Giving One, who proceeds from the Father...”, discarding the word “true”, which he had previously added out of cowardice. Hearing the words of the symbol spoken by the sexton, the landowner became enraged, and, not allowing him to finish reading, rushed at him like a wild animal, grabbed him by the hair, threw him to the ground and began to trample him underfoot, and then ordered the soldiers to drag him out of the church and beat him with sticks. The sexton's mother was informed about the incident. She ran to her son and, shedding tears, convinced him not to lose heart, but to give his very life for the Orthodox faith. After long and severe beatings, the valiant martyr for the faith gave up his soul into the hands of God...” After listening to this story, Peter and his companions fell into fear and did not dare to continue their journey. They turned east, to the monasteries located on the banks of the Dnieper. Along the way, Peter met a desert dweller, and it seemed to him that he had finally found the desired spiritual mentor. This hermit lived on an island of one river. His name was Hesychius. He was distinguished by his great zeal for reading and copying his father's books. Once, having learned that in a remote monastery of the Chernigov diocese there was a patristic book that he had not yet read, he went there on foot, with great difficulty begged the abbot of the monastery for this book, brought it to his island, copied it and took the book back. Noticing the high life of this old man, Peter began to ask him to allow him to live with him on his island. But Hesychius did not agree to accept him: “Oh, child,” he said, “I am a sinful and unworthy person. I am unable to direct my own poor soul to the path of God, so how can I dare to accept you? I beg you, do not burden me with your request.” In vain Peter did not leave this elder for three days and, shedding tears, so that his whole face was swollen from tears, begged Hesychius not to push him away from him, Hesychius remained adamant. He lovingly released Peter, predicting to him that in his own time and in another place he would find his way of salvation. Having said goodbye to the elder, Peter came to the Medvedovsky Monastery of St. Nicholas the Wonderworker, and here he was cordially received by the abbot. A month later, he was tonsured into the first degree of monasticism - the ryassophore - and he was given a new name - Plato. The abbot indicated Plato and the elder for spiritual guidance. But when Plato asked the elder to give him a cell rule, the elder replied: “You, brother, are a scientist, therefore I do not define rules for you, but as God instructs you, keep the rule in your cell.” Having mentioned this in his notes, the elder sadly concludes: “So I was left, like a lost sheep, without a shepherd or mentor, and spent my entire subsequent life in self-rule and self-will. And nowhere did I have to live in obedience to any father, although, as I see, the structure of my soul in my youth was very favorable to obedience.” Plato lived in the Medvedovsky Monastery for about six months. The monastery was closed by the Uniates, and the church was sealed. The worship service stopped. The monks dispersed. Not knowing what to do, Plato joined two novices heading to the Kiev Pechersk Lavra and, after many difficulties, came with them to Kyiv. Thus, having passed through the left and right bank of Ukraine in search of silence and spiritual guidance and finding neither one nor the other, Plato returned to where he had come from. Instead of a poor, deserted stay, which his soul had longed for since childhood, he found himself in the great, rich and noisy Kyiv Lavra. At that time, many ascetics of high life lived in the Kyiv Lavra, about whom Elder Paisius talks in detail in his notes. At the Lavra they loved Plato, he was given obedience in the engraving workshop, and on holidays he had to sing in the right choir and read akathists and canons for pilgrims. In the Lavra, Plato met with his relatives from Poltava, who had come to Kyiv on a pilgrimage, and learned from them about the fate of his mother. After Peter left Poltava, his mother, without receiving letters from him for a long time, was very worried and often cried. When the news reached her that he had disappeared from Kyiv, she went to look for him in the harsh winter. She walked around all the Kyiv monasteries and monasteries, but nowhere did she find the slightest trace of him. Tired, broken and exhausted, she returned home. She spent whole days and nights in melancholy and tears, and finally, in despair, she decided to starve herself to death. No amount of persuasion could get her to eat a small piece of bread. She reached the point of complete exhaustion and was unable to get out of bed. At this time she had a vision. She saw herself surrounded by evil demons who were preparing to take over her soul. In horror, she demanded an akathist to the Mother of God and began to read it. Raising her gaze to heaven with prayer, she saw an angel above her and heard his words: “Crazy woman, what are you doing! For the sake of your reckless love for your son, you turned away from God and your Creator and decided to starve yourself to death and destroy your soul forever. Know that your son, not without the will of God, chose the monastic life. And don’t grieve about this, but submit to the will of God and renounce the world yourself and go to a monastery!” Hearing these words, the patient joyfully exclaimed: “If this is the will of God, then I will never grieve for my son again.” From that moment on, she calmed down, came to her senses, began to eat little by little, and finally completely recovered. Having recovered, she entered the Poltava Convent, where she lived peacefully and calmly until her death. Having experienced failure in his search for silence and spiritual guidance, Plato began to gradually get used to Lavra life and writes in his notes that he would never have thought about leaving the Lavra if there had not been an unexpected meeting with a school friend, with whom they once spent whole nights in conversations in the fence of the Brotherly Monastery and swore oaths to each other not to settle or live in rich and noisy monasteries. This comrade reminded Plato of their vows and persuaded him to undertake a new journey. With the greatest precautions, under the guidance of an experienced guide, the fugitives headed towards the Polish border. But the guide turned out to be a traitor and warned the mother of comrade Plato about their flight, and she, with the help of her relatives, detained her son at the border, leaving Plato to continue his journey alone. During Lent of 1743, Plato came to the Motroninsky Monastery. There at that time lived the Moldovan Elder, a Russian native, Hieroschemamonk Michael, who fell in love with Plato very much, often talked with him, gave him books to read and, finally, after the Easter holiday, sent him along with his other disciples to Moldovan Latvia, where he himself was going to come soon. Travelers passed through Polish Ukraine with fear, fearing encounters with military patrols. However, everything turned out well. Having reached the Dniester, they crossed the river by boat and entered the borders of Moldovala. Elder Paisius's first stay in Moldovala lasted about three years. These years can be called the best, happiest time of his novice life. In Moldovala, he found both the desert silence he desired and experienced mentors in spiritual life. Due to the unpleasant conditions for monasticism in Russia at that time, the Moldovan monasteries and monasteries were crowded with Russian monks of high life. Walking around different monasteries, Plato looked closely at the life of the elders, listened to their conversations, and learned from them. In the skete “Dolgoutsy” Plato saw Elder Dosifei, who lived away from the skete, in a secluded cell, in a very picturesque area. The elder had a small vegetable garden, which provided food for him and his unanimous brother who lived with him. The friendly and reverent elder taught Plato to firmly adhere to the commandments of Christ and not to deviate in any way from the rules and teachings of the Church. In the Treistena monastery, where Plato was actually sent by Hieroschemamonk Michael, he found 12 brothers living together in a dormitory, and about 15 living alone around the monastery, each in a special cell. They all earned their food and clothing through the labor of their own hands. Here for the first time Plato heard church services performed strictly according to the Athos rite “with great reverence and fear of God.” In this monastery, Plato found his fellow countryman, a native of the Poltava regiment, schemamonk Proterius, a great lover of birds. He taught them to flock to his cell. When he opened the window, birds flew into the room and pecked the grains he had prepared. When Proterius went to church, birds flew after him, and some sat on his shoulders and head and sang loudly. When he entered the church doors, birds flew up to the roof of the church and waited for him to come out. As soon as he appeared, they surrounded him again and escorted him to his cell. Elder Paisios tells in his notes how he learned to cook food and bake bread in this monastery. Meanwhile, Hieroschemamonk Mikhail came from the Motroninsky Monastery to Treisteny and with him, to Plato’s surprise and joy, the very same comrade who persuaded him to flee from the Kiev-Pechersk Lavra. It turned out that he managed to lull his mother’s vigilance, and he sailed by boat from Kyiv down the Dnieper, and then made his way to the Motroninsky Monastery. The arrival of Elder Michael at the monastery brought great joy to everyone. Everyone loved this elder very much, who was their common spiritual mentor. With his arrival, life in the monastery became more animated. The elder used to gather the brethren on the grass under the trees on Sundays and holidays after lunch and have a conversation. Here everyone could turn to him with their questions and he answered them. He spoke with great animation, and often with tears. He especially loved to persuade the brethren not to succumb to the spirit of the times, not to lead a “fearless” life, but to sacredly keep the law of Christ and the covenants of the ancient fathers of the Church. He sometimes had similar conversations in the evenings: on a bright moonlit night, the brethren would gather in the same clearing near the church and listen to the elder until midnight. These conversations had a great influence on Plato - they inspired him, excited him and strengthened his determination to serve God completely. But he understood that Christian life is not limited to conversations, even the highest and most sincere ones. Christ demands from us that our wishes and decisions be certainly reinforced by a living, albeit small, deed: “He who creates and teaches, he will be called great in the kingdom of heaven.” “He who is faithful in a little will be faithful in much, and he who is unfaithful in a little will be unfaithful in much.” Therefore, Plato tried to implement everything he heard immediately, to the best of his ability, in his life, and in this way through experience and life to achieve greater and greater spiritual growth, to acquire more and more spiritual experience. However, Plato's peaceful life was disrupted by one unexpected temptation. The head of the monastery settled Plato in a cell that was located not far from the monastery, but quite far from the church. While living there, Plato once fell asleep so soundly that he did not hear the bell for matins; it was a Sunday. When he woke up and came to church, it turned out that they had already read the Gospel and sang the canon. Out of shame, Plato did not enter the church and returned to his cell, shedding tears. He did not go to the liturgy, but moving away from his cell, lay on the grass and cried. When, after the liturgy, the brethren gathered for a meal, everyone was surprised at Plato’s unusual absence from the church. Finally, Elder Michael said: “Fathers and brothers, I ask you for the sake of the Lord - let’s wait a little with the meal and send to find out what happened to our brother Plato.” The sent monk (Athanasius, a copyist of books) found the crying Plato with some difficulty and began to ask him what had happened to him. Instead of answering, Plato only began to cry harder. Finally, after much persuasion, he could hardly explain to the monk the reason for his tears. Then the monk began to calm him down and convinced him to go to the meal, where neither the elder, nor the boss, nor the brethren wanted to sit at the table without him. Plato did not agree to go and begged to leave him. “With what face,” he said, “will I appear before the eyes of the brethren after everything that has happened!” But the monk did not lag behind him and finally convinced Plato to go to the refectory. When they entered the refectory and Plato saw the elder and all the brethren in front of him, sitting at the table waiting for Plato, he fell to the floor and burst into tears. Having learned from the monk the reason for his tears, the elder and the brethren approached him, lifted him up, began to console and calm him down, sat him down at the table and persuaded him to eat. But Plato, from shame, grief and tears, could barely eat a small piece of bread. When, after the meal, Plato went to his cell, the elder detained the brethren and said: “Look what jealousy and what fiery sadness this young brother of ours has! He involuntarily had to skip prayer, and how saddened his soul was, how bitterly he grieved and cried. You too pray to Christ God with all your soul, forcing yourself to obey all His commandments, may the Lord give you all the same zeal and fiery sadness for God!” From this incident, Plato made it a rule for himself throughout his stay in the monastery not to go to bed to sleep, but to sleep sitting up. During Elder Michael’s stay in Treisteni, Elder Onuphry came to him for a meeting from the remote mountain monastery “Karnul”. He told the brethren a lot about his life in the desert, about the beauty of his place, about its healthy air and clean, tasty water. His stories aroused in Plato a strong desire to see his monastery and so, with the permission of Elder Michael, Plato and several other brothers went with Onufriy to Karnul. They walked through great forests, the highest mountains and deep valleys, and on the third day they reached Onufriev's monastery. Onuphry lived in a secluded cell on a mountain, about an hour's walk from the monastery. Plato and his companions were placed in a monastery, from where they went daily to Elder Onuphrius. The elder’s cell stood on the edge of the mountain, from where a wonderful view of the surrounding mountains, valleys and forests opened up. Below the cell flowed a source of bright, clean water, and the elder went down the steps there to fetch water. The elder spent his time in prayer, reading, psalmody and handicrafts, making excellent wooden spoons, cups, plates and boxes from linden bast. Plato and his companions, coming to the elder, listened to his stories about his life in solitude, in inaccessible mountains and deep gorges, where in the summer months he had to store food for himself for the whole winter, since for eight months, due to the impassability of the roads, he did not see a human face at all. The elder spoke “about mental and physical passions, about the terrible and persistent mental battle with demons, about their unimaginable intrigues and tricks...” If, he said, the philanthropist Christ had not protected his people, not one of them would truly have been saved. But whoever falls to Christ God with faith and love, with humility and tears, is soon given indescribable consolations, peace and joy in the Lord and ardent love for God: witnesses to this are unfeigned tears from great love, self-reproach, humility and insatiable gratitude to Christ God, so that from love for God a person becomes insensitive to the blessings of this world.” Listening to the speeches of Elder Onuphrius, Plato became more and more inflamed with love for God and the desire to live in the desert. Under the influence of the growing feeling in him, he went into the depths of the forest, fell to the ground, beat himself in the chest and with tears asked for help from Christ - God, pronouncing his vows. In his cell, he was constantly engaged in prayer, reading the Word of God and the paternal writings, daily he carefully examined his conscience, lamented his sins, and daily laid the foundation for his correction and spiritual ascent. It seemed that Plato’s life had finally turned out the way he wanted - he was surrounded by a deep desert silence, he had an experienced spiritual leader and a devoted, unanimous friend. But “the ways of God are not the ways of men, and the thoughts of God are not the thoughts of men.” Plato had to go through another preparatory period of his life, to be left only to himself for a while, and in this loneliness and, it seemed, complete spiritual helplessness, to finally mature for his future spiritual activity, and from a shy, timid, weak youth to turn into an independent, firm and wise leader of the life and conscience of those seeking his spiritual help. The following circumstance contributed to the new change in Plato’s life. Plato began to hear alarming rumors that the elders, despite his youth, were talking about elevating him to the rank of priesthood. A strict guardian of church rules, Elder Dosifei from the monastery of Dolgoutsi was the first to hear about this. He came to the monastery where Plato lived and, calling him to him, said: If you want to accept good advice from me, then let me tell you a few words. Plato replied that he would accept the elder’s words as inspired by God himself. Then Elder Dosifei said: I want to inform you that our common spiritual mentor, who should come here soon, Elder Schemamonk Vasily, had a student named Paisiy. He grew up with the elder from childhood and the elder loved him very much. Paisius surpassed everyone with his mind and his life. Due to our lack of priests, the elder convinced him against his will to accept the priesthood before the age established by church rules. Paisius died three years ago. The elder does not cease to grieve for him, partly because he lost his beloved student in him, partly because he lost his priest. When he comes here and sees you, he will undoubtedly want to take you to the monastery and, through your confessor, will ask you if you have any obstacles to accepting the priesthood. And if there is no such obstacle, he will persuade you to go and live with him, and if you go, he will persuade you to accept the priesthood. And if you listen and accept the priesthood before the age established by church rules, then you will not find peace of mind for the rest of your life, since you will find yourself in violation of the church commandment established by St. Apostles and St. Cathedrals." After listening to the elder, Plato thanked him for the warning and replied that, knowing his unworthiness, he intended not to accept the priesthood throughout his life. The elder liked these words and he joyfully said: God help you, brother. Elder Dosifei’s warning was not in vain. Soon, indeed, the especially respected elder Schemamonk Vasily, who was still in Russia the mentor of the above-mentioned elder Michael, came to the monastery. Schemamonk Vasily drew attention to Plato and instructed the head of the monastery to find out from him whether Plato had any obstacles to his accepting the priesthood, and when he learned that there was no significant obstacle, he asked the head to persuade Plato to come to live with him in the Polyanomerulsky monastery. The boss began to persuade Plato, but he, remembering the warning of Elder Dosifei, resolutely refused. Then Elder Vasily, guessing the reason for the refusal, ordered the boss to tell Plato that under no circumstances would he force him to accept the priesthood before the established age. To this Plato replied that he decided in his heart not to take on such a terrible and responsible dignity upon reaching the established age. Having heard this answer, Elder Vasily no longer insisted on his proposal. “This is the reason,” Elder Paisios notes in his notes, why I did not have to live with Elder Vasily in his monastery, although I really wanted this.” This incident was of decisive importance for Plato. He saw that the elders had an intention to make him a priest, and this extremely confused, alarmed and frightened him, since it was supposed to disrupt the entire life plan he had planned for himself. Deeply aware of his unworthiness, always striving for a modest and unnoticed life, always wanting to be a student and not a mentor, Plato was aware that the service of the priesthood was an impossible feat for him and would prevent him from realizing the path of life he had cherished since childhood. This made him think deeply. While outwardly continuing to lead his former way of life, listening to the conversations and instructions of the elders, and carrying out his obedience, in the depths of his soul he had already outlined and pondered a new step in life. He decided to leave the Moldovlakhian monasteries and retire to the Holy Mount Athos to find the deepest and inviolable silence there. Bratislava I. III. 1925, Forgiveness Resurrection. You might be interested in: