Salt of the earth

that is, the Legend of the life of the Elder of the Gethsemane Skete, Hieromonk Abba Isidore, collected and presented in order by his unworthy spiritual son Pavel Florensky A Warning to the Godly Brother Reader Father Isidore is no longer with us; is gone - he is gone. It smelled fragrant like a flower, and it’s boring now that it has faded. It shone for us like a clear sun, and the light dimmed. Was a stone of faith; – where is our support? One can be amazed at everything in him - love, meekness and humility; impartiality, directness and independence; unpretentiousness, unselfishness and poverty; clarity, peace, spirituality; finally, prayer. But what is even more amazing is his super-worldliness. I was in the world, and not of the world; was with people - and not as a person. He did not disdain anyone or anything, but he himself was above everything, and everything earthly hung low and pitiful before his quiet smile. With his gaze he destroyed all human conventions, for he was above the world - he was free with a higher, spiritual freedom. It seemed that he was not walking on earth, but suspended on invisible threads to another country; That’s why he was all filled with inner lightness, and everything ponderous and earthly, approaching him, itself lost its oppressive heaviness. With a slight smile, as if playing, he could upset the human conditions of life and - with impunity, to joy. He could allow himself to do things that were above the conditions of righteousness from the law, and he did it with such clarity that they were always marked actions. Simple and everyday things were not just like that for him; no, from this everyday and simple thing long roots stretched into other worlds, to the “new earth” 1. Now, with your thoughts and hearts drawn to “what our eyes have seen and what our hands have touched” 2, you involuntarily delve deeper and deeper into the life of Fr. Isidora. The significance of this life becomes more and more noticeable, and the work of writing becomes more and more difficult. That subtle fragrance of spirituality that always followed Fr. Isidore, indescribable in any words, especially since verbally, outwardly speaking about Fr. Isidora has too little. After all, his life was outwardly simple - in it you will not find any interesting incidents or fascinating words. Forgive, gentle reader, the inept attempt being made; and if o. Isidore will not seem to you like an Angel from heaven rather than a man from earth, then lay the blame for this not on the revered Elder, but on the ineptitude of the compiler of this Legend. You feel something; It seems that you are about to grab the true word about Fr. Isidore. But what is written each time turns out to be completely different from what it actually is. Isidore. Chapter 1, in which the pious reader is informed about the cell of Father Isidore So that you know, inquisitive reader, how Father Isidore lives, let’s get together to see him. We left the Monastery of St. Sergius of Radonezh, passed Posad and then crossed the field near the monastery ponds. Then, having crossed the bridge, God-loving Kinovia and the forest, we found ourselves between the monasteries of Gethsemane and Chernigov. Just before heading to the Elder, let’s not forget to pray in the underground church of the Chernigov Mother of God, the miraculous shrine of these places. After all, the Elder loves Her so much that he will certainly ask us if we visited Her, as he asks absolutely every guest of his. Well, now let’s go without embarrassment to the Skete of Gethsemane. We go up the wooden stairs and pass through the cemetery. Over there, you can see Fr.’s house. Isidora. The house in which Fr. lived twice (i.e. before and after Paraclete 3, about which, reader, see below). Isidore, where he died, is located in the right corner (counting from the main entrance) of the Skete, near the wall. Previously, this house belonged to the Athonite elder Samuil, among the hieromonks Ioannikios, and after Ioannikios - Fr. Abraham, who had previously spent many years underground, in the so-called “caves” adjacent to the underground church of the Chernigov Mother of God. House o. Isidora is a small log hut, consisting of a cell, in which with great difficulty four or five people sat closely together, and only on small benches, a “hallway” (as Father Isidore called it), in which two could barely sit, and a senichek; in addition, there was a cage adjacent to the hallway (in which Father Isidore kept a samovar). Both the Senichki and the cage were small: the samovar occupied the entire cage, and two people, and not fat ones, could barely separate in the entrance hall. The last two years of Fr. Isidora added a cold vestibule to his house, so small that two people could hardly stand in it. But this toy house has many nooks and crannies. You enter it - and it’s as if you remember and remember, but you can’t remember everything, some half-forgotten, sweet, dear dream. Everything is the simplest, most beggarly; and everything is special, warm to the eye, quiet. Things have their own eyes; and the situation about. Isidora greeted her with such cordiality and saw her off with such welcoming glances. As you enter, the holy icons are looking right at you. Each has its own story; each is associated with some important name, but important not here on earth, but in the Kingdom of Heaven. Under the icons is a stand with a Jerusalem mother-of-pearl cross, an old battered Gospel in a worn and shiny leather binding, and a lamp on a blue glass stand. All the walls of the cell are hung with photographic cards - all of people connected spiritually with Fr. Isidore, paintings, poems, pieces of candy. All this is a pittance, but Fr. Isidora nothing is fruitless. Everything is a symbol of the heavenly, everything reminds of the highest. Likewise, the venerable abbot of Mount Sinai, Saint Abba John Climacus, says that God-lovers tend to be excited by both worldly and spiritual songs for joy and divine love and tears, but sensualists, on the contrary, 4. I even think that if Fr. Isidora is not popular paintings, but real painting - the cell woman would have lost her meek grace: God loves humility, and His power is perfected in poverty. Behold, you have entered the cell. To the right of the icons is a window, and under it is a table with scribbled books, letters, and papers. To the left of the icons there is a bench, then a table on which lay the usually worn stole, armbands with frayed edges and various necessary things, and then a shelf. There are two windows above the table. On the windows there are, as Father said, “flowers”: jars with moss, cans of canned food, with some weeds weeded out by the gardener, the neck of a bottle, plugged with a cork and filled with water to serve as a vessel for some “flower,” a bottle with a broken willow branch; - you can’t remember everything that’s on Fr.’s windowsill. Isidora. In the hallway there was a small cupboard with dishes and a table on which tea was sometimes served. There are also wooden hangers made from gnarled sticks, like deer antlers; and Fr. must show them to the visitor. Isidore. If you walk right through the Senichki, you will come out into a small garden, no more than two arshins wide, divided between the monastery wall and the house, going around the house and fenced on the other sides by a high planked fence with a gate. This is the so-called “Inner Desert” of Fr. Isidore, where he retires for prayer and spiritual reflection. Tall willows grow above the “Inner Desert”, sometimes whitening the entire “Desert” with the fluff flying from them. And Father, with childish joy, looking around, says: “I have snow.” Still growing in the “Desert” are grasses, nettles, and onions weeded by the gardener; some are in cans picked up by the Elder from the rubbish, others are right in the ground. Toads and every living creature live here at the Elder’s place. There is a table on a stump of wood, another stump for sitting, a seat made of stones that the owner of the “Desert” stole here from different places. But everything that your eye sees here has its own symbolic meaning: the willow is the oak of Mamre, under which the forefather Abraham received the Holy Trinity 5; the stone seat is the Thebaid rock 6; branchy branches with a wooden cross between them, nailed to a tree (which is directly opposite the gate) in the corner of the “Desert” and resembling deer antlers - this, according to the Elder, is a vision of Eustathius Placis 7. There is not a single corner in the “Desert” without meaning. The very air is dissolved with memories of the lives of the Forefathers and Saints, and for Fr. Isidore, the events of Sacred and Church History are much closer, brighter and more vibrant than the bustle of the world. If you open the gate, you can exit from the “Inner Desert” to the “Outer Desert”, which lies in front of the house. This is an unfenced place, only slightly protected by trees and bushes. Here, under the canopy of trees, a round table is dug into the ground, and around it there is “furniture,” as Fr. Isidore, that is, “sofa”, “armchair”, “chair” and other things made of crooked branches and boards. O. Isidore put together this furniture himself. It's hard to imagine anything more awkward. In the summer, Father sometimes served tea in this “Outer Desert.” He would sometimes lead a guest to the “furniture” and say with a smile: “I also have a sofa. It's very nice to lie down and relax here. I often relax here. Fine". “Here, father, lie down,” he sometimes addressed the Bishop. And what a good place to lie - on branches, some of which rest with their points on the sides! Around the “furniture” there were several small beds: two with vegetables, and one with strawberries. A currant bush grew right there. Chapter 2, which tells how the Elder would have met the pious reader if the latter had visited the Elder when he came to venerate the shrines of the Gethsemane Skete That's all of Father's possessions, Fr. Isidora. Let us now go and visit him, patient reader. After all, he receives everyone kindly, untimely and well-timed, and even greets a stranger as if he had known him for a long time, as if he were close, as if he were family. You don’t seem to believe it, reader, but, really, everything is for him - close and dear; everything for him - father and mother, brother and sister, even more. We approach the door. If the key sticks out in it, it means the old man is at home. However, it is rare that he is not at home; and if not, then he will probably return soon. After all, he only goes to church, to worship, and, very rarely, to Posad, to the Bishop at the Academy, or to some of his other spiritual children. But, fortunately for us, the key sticks out of the keyhole, which means the owner is at home. We knock timidly with our fingers. Doesn't open. He probably doesn’t hear - he doesn’t hear well. And then, maybe - he already has someone - he confesses, or wants to talk in private. Let's knock harder. So it is,” he did not heed the knock, “perhaps because he was immersed in prayer. You can hear him approach the door with an old man’s gait and open it. He will never ask who is at the door; - accepts everyone, and although this has already caused him trouble, he still does not abandon the established order. It turns out - in a white canvas robe and a white canvas skufa. It often happens that he greets guests in white canvas trousers and in the same untucked shirt; over the shirt there is a paramant, and the legs are bare or in pistons, rarely in boots. He greets you and asks you to welcome him. We go in and undress. The owner shows off his clever hangers. We are baptized together with him on the icon and ask for his blessing. He blesses and kisses each of us, and then sits us down. For some reason, we all already felt that this blessing was not like others, that it was special. But no one will say what is special. At first it seems that she is in complete sincerity and conviction of the Elder; and it’s true: the Elder is deeply convinced that the blessing is full of power, and not at all an empty rite. Then I want to see the reason for the peculiarity in the internal, not saying unnecessary words about itself and yet obvious to everyone, Father’s love for the one being blessed; but this turns out to be not everyone. There is something, but the mind has no idea what. Finally, you give up reasoning and say simply: “This is the grace of God. Such power has always emanated from the saints.” With this rejection of a rational decision, you completely calm down, and then everything seems to be something self-evident. O. Isidore will always say something encouraging. If we came to him together, then he will remember the Emmaus travelers 8, if there are three of us, then this is especially good: “And God appeared to Abraham in the form of three strangers” 9. Sometimes Fr. Isidore will kindly note that it was us that he was waiting for, that today, as if on purpose, some tidbit was brought to him, or else that God Himself brought guests, because it is necessary to ask them to carry out this or that task, often almost invented for the occasion, so that the guests would cheer up. Yes! If we have not forgotten to bring him a gift, then we will not be shy in conveying: Father takes as easily as he gives, he will thank you and be happy. After all, he always has guests, but there is almost nothing to treat them with, and there will be plenty to give them as gifts (and the Elder does not let anyone go without a gift). Now, he begins to walk around the cell. New, first-time guests will certainly begin to explain the history of the various persons depicted on photographic cards. He will say some poems with religious content. Pay attention to your flowers. Then he will make you read aloud a poetic arrangement of psalms made by one blind priest, or invite you to sing together something from the book from the rite for the burial of the Mother of God, which takes place in the Skete of Gethsemane; He will even ask you to take the book home and make an extract from it so that you can sing from it later. He will say something from George the Recluse. He will mention N.V. Gogol (Fr. Isidore’s brother was a valet for Count Tolstoy and was present at Gogol’s death), whom Fr. Isidore greatly honors - mainly, it seems, for the intensely spread about. Isidore poems: To you, O Most Holy Mother, I dare to raise my voice, etc., which about. Isidore attributes 10 to Gogol. Then he leaves the guests alone, and he goes off to put on the samovar and prepare a treat, which he serves with all his heart. We prayed and started drinking tea, sitting down on Fr.’s bed. Isidora, some are in the chair, and some are on the bench. After the treat, Fr. Isidore gives something, teaches his prayer about the five plagues of the Savior, expresses his innermost thoughts (about which below), gives everyone handwritten leaves with prayers and poems, blesses and says goodbye. Chapter 3, which describes the treat of Father Isidore When someone comes to Fr. Isidore, then the gray-haired Ava will fuss and run around like a young servant, trying to feed and water the guest, whoever he may be. Ava is so afraid that the visitor will leave without being treated. The samovar is put on, everything that is there is pulled out onto the table in the hallway. And when inexperienced guests, embarrassed by these troubles caused to the Elder, stop him, ask and beg him to run less, the Elder always refers to the example of Abraham, who, for the sake of his hospitality, was honored to receive the Most Holy Trinity, and continues to run. Nothing can calm him down here, and those who have visited him several times no longer make any attempts to stop the troubles. If you stop him again, then Father will say, as always, that God can visit not only Abraham, but also us as a guest, and again he is busy. And God forbid you, reader, to be shy and refuse anything offered. Believe me, your refusal would hurt the Elder. He will tell you then that you cannot refuse love. Indeed, this is not a treat on the table, but materialized love. Given his poverty, everything he has is taken out to the guests; if he remembers something else, he will be all overjoyed, jump up and run after what he had forgotten. A piece of watermelon brought by a previous visitor, an apple, a cracker, gingerbread, a few candies - everything is shared by Fr. Isidore is divided equally among those who came. He will not leave anything for himself, citing the fact that he has already eaten. But if you ask him to take part in a meal, he is afraid of offending the guests by refusing and takes something for himself - as long as the guests are calm. O. Isidore likes to mix together what is considered unmixable. So, he had a pot of the famous jam - a mixture of the remains of ordinary cherries, wine berries, cranberries, raisins, kvass and, it seems, radishes. O. Isidore sometimes talks about how he prepared this jam and says with a smile: “Some people don’t like it, but I don’t mind, it’s delicious.” He treats this jam only to the chosen ones, the “perfect” ones, as he jokes, in whom he is confident; Otherwise, he gives ordinary jam. Indeed, there are reasons for this: those who are not accustomed to restraining themselves can hardly swallow a spoonful of ascetic jam. And o. Isidore eats a few spoons of it and praises it. Even in such little things as “furniture” Fr. Isidora, his “jam”, etc., one involuntarily sees a subtle, but very instructive irony over the luxury of the world - the Elder’s independence from the world, his supra-worldliness. “You think to surprise me, the bearer of the Spirit of God, with your furniture, your jams, your everyday comforts, but I don’t pay any attention to you with all your comforts, because when the Spirit is there, then both my furniture and my jams are good, but when He is not there, then all yours is worthless.” Here, I think, is what the Elder silently said with his “furniture” and his “jam.” However, this silent speech, being, so to speak, the very flower and juice of Christ’s foolishness, was outwardly completely different from it in its subtlety. But if the name of foolishness is applied to this subtle irony of the world, then Father Fr. Isidore can be called a fool for Christ's sake. This foolishness, it seems, was innate to him, and therefore not a single trait in such foolishness was invented, deliberate, or made. Sometimes food was prepared like jam, into which Fr. Isidore mixed salad, olives and whatever else he wanted. The mixture turned out such that when Fr. Isidore tried to treat her to it, but everyone refused, and Father, with a gentle smile, said: “Well, at least try it.” Both here and in many other cases, it is impossible to draw a line that separates his simplicity and love from his independence in relation to everything in the world. He overturned everything in such a way that it was impossible to see even a shadow of self-will or anything ostentatious here. Its simplicity was ironic; his irony was simplicity itself. He could overturn all existing conventions, look at everything with the eye of eternity; and - amazingly - he did it without offending anyone. He smashed everything his interlocutor had; he pushed everyone down from the heights of human complacency and placed them level with the ground; he trampled all conceit into the dirt. And (amazingly!) it was impossible to be indignant at this defeat: Fr. Isidore looks at him with childlike clarity, as if unaware of what he has done. Knocked down from all positions, and not a single ray of complacency, or pride, or pride will flash in his open, clear eyes. He did it and... as if it wasn’t him. He knocked down his conceit, but it’s unclear how he did it, or with what. It is best to compare this with a person charged with electricity: he touched his hand to someone, he felt a shock, but did not believe his eyes. After all, the one who touched him seemed like a simple person - and remained so. So is our Father: he sets off a spark, but he himself stands as before, in a white robe, or in a shirt and ports, smiling affectionately. So you’ll think again: “Just a good old man, and nothing more!” However, let's return to the story about Fr.'s treat. Isidora. One day they come to Fr.’s cell. Isidora's eminent guests find him at the samovar - Ava is boiling potatoes in the samovar. He offers the guests tea, but the guests, in order to get rid of such a treat, resolutely refuse. Then Fr. Isidore turned the samovar over, poured out the water and scattered potatoes on the floor. “Don’t be afraid of the water - it’s warm, it won’t be available now. “I’ll finish cooking the potatoes later,” he told the guests, and he began to put the samovar back on, realizing the reason for the guests’ previous refusal. Somehow he comes to Fr. Isidor the Bishop, and Father, in only his underwear, digs around his beds. The bishop laughs: “Well, a dandy, well, a dandy.” “Okay, okay, sit down, father,” the Elder laughs. The meal begins. I don’t remember whether it was this time or what other time that Fr. Isidore with His Grace Bishop E. in the “Inner Desert”. On the lame table there are glasses of tea in front of them and, in a rusty sardine tin, several crackers and one and a half old gingerbread cookies. They started talking, but at this time it began to rain, so that both the guest and the host hid “under the oak of Mamre” and continued the conversation under its shade. After the rain o. Isidore collects the tea utensils and finds the crackers left on the table floating in the tin. A few days later, the same Bishop again drinks tea at Father’s. And again the Elder brings out a tin of crackers, offering to eat what was left from the last time. “But they got wet then,” the Bishop declares in bewilderment. “And I drained the water and dried the crackers, now they are good again,” explains the Elder. Here is another incident that remains in my memory. One day, His Grace Bishop E. was walking through the forest near Bethany. Two Bethany seminarians come across them. “What are you doing?” asks the Bishop. - “We’re walking.” - “You’d better look at people instead of counting trees.” - “And who?” - “Have you heard about Fr. Isidora? A conversation ensued, and the Right Reverend led the disciples to the Elder. He met them, as always and everyone, with greetings and love, took out rye crackers each and gave them kvass to drink, and then talked. The seminarians left beaming and delighted. Yes, reader! You probably won’t believe that even now, when I write these lines, tears of gratitude and tenderness come to my eyes at the mere memory of these treats from Fr. Isidora. After all, these slices of watermelon, crackers or pieces of apple were not just food: no, they always seemed like slices and pieces of love and affection. Chapter 4, informing the reader about the gifts that Father Isidore gave to everyone with whom he came in contact If the extreme degree of passion for doing good can, not entirely accurately, be called passion, then about Father Isidore we can say that he had his own passion - the only one - namely, the passion to give. No one left Father’s cell without a gift. He never visited anyone without a gift, and never showed up empty-handed. He will always bring something with him: either a prosphora, or oil from the Mother of God, or a piece of paper with a prayer, or an icon. Even in someone else's house, he was never left worried about food. Sometimes he would come, for example, to the Most Reverend Bishop or someone else and pull out a radish tail, a frozen apple, a jar of jam, gingerbread or something else. When giving gifts, he did not think about the benefit, but showed his love, and therefore was not embarrassed by the insignificance of the gift; It happened that in the summer he would bring a cucumber from his own ridge or ten or fifteen of his own raspberries on a burdock tree and hand it over with joy. Even without seeing someone in person, he tried to give him a token of love - some kind of gift. Sometimes you’d come to him and he’d give him something, and then he’d give instructions: “Here’s another gingerbread, take this to Sergius. But the prosphora is for so and so.” One day someone came to him after the summer months of absence from Posad. The elder was delighted: “Ah, here you have come. And for you, how long have I been keeping two berries here on a bush?” And indeed, on the raspberry bush, despite the autumn time, two berries were still hanging. The elder picked them, put them on a leaf of some kind of grass and gave them with love. But then I remembered that I also needed to send the long-planned radish to His Eminence Bishop E. I went to drag her out of the ground. The one present at the time offers him his help, because old Avva can barely walk and pulls the radish leaves in vain. But Ava refuses: “Since it’s a gift, you have to make it yourself.” He pulled and pulled the radish leaves and tore them off. Stands over the radish in bewilderment. But then I found it. He ran for a knife and a mug, filled the mug with rainwater from the tub, began pouring water around the radishes to soften the ground, then dug the radish with a knife, pulled out the radish and, triumphantly, went to wash it in the tub. He washed it, wrapped it in clean paper and handed it over to the Bishop, with the words: “Let him eat it: it’s delicious.” And the Bishop, having received the radish, kissed it and hid it in a place of honor. But especially Fr. Isidore loved to give gifts to those who came to him. He was clearly suffering until he figured out what to give his guest. He will examine all his property and will not rest until he finds something suitable for a gift. And so - not only with the laity or outside the skete spiritual, but also with the monastery brethren. “I brought him dinner,” says one novice, “and each time he gave him three candies: “Here’s a consolation for you: you brought it, you worked.” But he had to buy it. I was ashamed to take the gift.” There are a lot of such cases, for who has not been consoled by Fr. Isidore, and having consoled whom he didn’t give a gift. As a last resort, if he had nothing, he was ready to give what he needed most, just to give it. Shortly before his death, he divided all his property. But this will be discussed below. Chapter 5, revealing to the reader how lovingly Father Isidore treated all people Showing love for people - rich and poor, noble and simple, official and non-official, pure (if there are pure people) and sinners, Orthodox and non-Orthodox, even non-Christians, even pagans - was for Fr. Isidora such, and even greater, necessity as breathing. He did good right and left, without thinking or thinking, simply and naturally - as if not suspecting that he was doing something special, something exceptional, the only thing. It never happened that he let a person go without telling him something edifying, comforting and encouraging. If he passes by, he will certainly say something good; If he sees a darkened face, he will certainly remove the sorrow. If anyone needed help, Fr. Isidore gave everything he had. If this was not enough, he asked - carefully, humbly, meekly, even shyly, from others. If this was not the case, he was ready to give away everything that came to his hand. And since those in need of help always crowded around Fr. Isidora, then nothing ever happened to him. As soon as he receives a few money from someone, the next day there will probably be nothing left of it. Knowing the impossibility of refusing help, Fr. Isidore, having received some three-ruble piece of paper, always hurried to exchange it for smaller coins, so that there would be enough for several people in need; otherwise he would have given all the money to the first person who came to him. He often sent money to different parts of Russia - to some one languishing in prison, to some soldier driven away far from his homeland, etc. Often he would give the newcomer his meager lunch, but he himself would remain without eating. “The poor man comes,” Fr. justified himself. Isidore, says that he hasn’t eaten for three days, and to prove his words he kisses my dirty hem. Well, why not give it to him.” But this is how Fr. justified himself. Isidore. Often he himself gave what he had, without waiting for a request. And he was often deceived. The monastery authorities made him a servant in the monastery, that is, the manager of the clothing and linen warehouse, and he distributed everything there. “The whole life of Fr. Sidora,” says one of the monastery brethren, “his whole life was based on love and dedicated to the poor. Who is poor, who is downtrodden, rightly or unjustly, come to Fr. Sidor, no one else. No one left him unconsoled. He gave everything away like the widow of the Gospel. At one time, one asked him for boots to go where, and then he disappeared. And o. Sidor walked around in shoes and stockings in winter.” Knowing that Fr. Isidore will still give away his clothes; the monastery authorities have stopped giving him new clothes. This is how he talks about Fr. Isidora has one brother from Skete: “He had childlike simplicity and unlimited love for people for a long time. There was poverty... No one can deny this. How many years have I lived here, and I haven’t seen a brand new cassock on him! No one will say that he saw Fr. Sidora in new boots; I wore what they gave me. But they didn’t give anything good because they knew they would give it away.” Indeed, Father did not even have a decent duckweed, and when it was necessary to leave the Skete, for example, to the bishop, to the Academy, Father borrowed duckweed from Fr. Abrahamia. And this duckweed was with the past, for Fr. Galaktion in the Lavra, and then bought Fr. Abraham. With him Fr. Isidore was pretty close. According to Elder Abraham, “Fr. Isidore was more attached to the worldly... He had all kinds of people.” All kinds of people - monks and priests, artists and teachers, students and seminarians, soldiers, townspeople, peasants, workers - whoever visited him. People came to him for financial help, for consolation, with perplexed questions, out of weariness of life, fearing punishment, with grave sins, out of great joy, wanting to give something to the poor, to make peace with enemies, to arrange family affairs, to heal an illness, to cast out a demon - why didn’t they come to him. He met everyone with love and tried to satisfy everyone. But he especially loved the outcast, even the guilty. If everyone has turned away from a person, it is here that Fr. Isidore began to show his love more than anything else. Here's at least one family. There were rumors about his various dark deeds - that he had deceived many, that he was being pursued by the police. But oh. Isidore treated him with some special care; sent them gifts; whatever I received, I gave everything to them; took care of them as best he could, and instructed others to do the same. This is probably why Fr. treated him with special tenderness. Isidore and to the Jews. Whenever you come to him, he always tells you something about one of the “Jews” attracted to Christianity through his love, as he used to say. He had “Jewish” godchildren, and he continued to take care of them for the rest of their lives. In his cell there hung a photograph of one such Jew with his family (I remember, a hairdresser), and Father always explained to new guests what a good person he was, as if he was afraid that they would offend his “Jew” and say something bad about him. One of these “Jews”, who was to be recruited, out of simplicity of soul (at least that’s how Father explained) did not show up where he should and left, for which he was sent to prison. From there he sent letters to Father, filled with melancholy and mortal horror, complaining about his miserable situation, begging for prayer and money, reporting that only the memory of Fr. Isidore and the icon he gave him do not allow him to commit suicide. ABOUT. Isidore was worried, as if it was about his own son, he sent the last thing he had, and asked those who came to him to send something to the “Jewish”, wrote to him in his barely readable senile scribbles. This is one of many cases; You won’t remember everything, and what you remember, you won’t be able to write: there was too much goodness in Fr.’s life. Isidora. In the same way, two years before his death, Father tinkered with a young Korean, despite the fact that because of this he was accused of receiving a Japanese spy. It often happened that for a long time he fed someone with his own lunch. So, he fed one all winter. But he stole the Elder’s alarm clock and, moreover, the Elder caught him in the act. O. Isidore complains to one brother: “Everything would be fine, Misha, nothing, only, here, he took a hammer, there’s nothing to hammer in a nail with.” The hammer, however, was later found. But when they later asked the Elder: “What, Father, was your alarm clock stolen?”, he, smiling guiltily, said: “I didn’t steal anything, but took it,” and switched the conversation to something else. Likewise, Fr. For about three years, until his death, Isidore worked with one worker whose arm was torn off by a machine. Father Isidore usually called him “armless.” He himself fed this “armless man” with a spoon, undressed and dressed him, got him money and repeatedly saved him from suicide attempts. He receives some alms - and, without wasting time, hurries to give it to the “armless man”. Whomever did Fr ask? Isidore for this cripple! No matter what the conversation was about, Father would certainly turn it towards the “armless” and begin to intercede on his behalf. The Elder had a lot of trouble with him. But, choosing a few from many, I will tell you, reader, about a certain case. One day he comes to Fr. Isidora is one student and sees this sight: a worker excitedly assures Father that he, a worker, must shoot himself or hang himself, because the revolutionaries supposedly sentenced him to this. The priest then turns to the student who has entered and complains about the worker. But if the “armless” one did not take the Elder’s words into his heart, would he really have listened to the student? So, of course, he did not heed his persuasion. Well, not having achieved peace, the Elder and the student kneel and pray for the cripple to come to his senses. Then Fr. Isidore hurries to Elder Barnabas in order to attract him to help; but oh. Barnabas, probably seeing what was going on, refused to participate in the conversation with the “armless man.” Then old, old Ava Fr. Isidore, together with the “armless man,” again trudges behind the monastery fence, to the student’s room, which he rented in the monastery hotel. Here they again treat the worker to tea, persuade, ask, beg him to leave his plans. Father invents more and more new means: he brings prosphora, gives it piece by piece to the worker, takes off from himself - the great shrine - his own mother-of-pearl cross, brought to Father from Old Jerusalem by a certain wanderer, and, having removed it from his neck, puts it on the worker’s neck; then he brings money from somewhere (he, of course, didn’t have his own - as always!) and gives it to the worker and tells him that the Lord sent this to you as a consolation. But a hardened heart is not hurt by love. Then the eighty-year-old Elder bows to the ground to the worker and asks him to come to his senses. The student and his young wife, who was present at this admonition, also bow to the worker. And the worker bows to the Elder. How all these requests would end is unknown to anyone except God. Suddenly the bellhop knocks and asks the student to vacate the room, because it has become known that the armless man was politically unreliable. The student had to pack his belongings and quickly leave the hotel. And Father stood at the gates of the Skete and, seeing off the leaving student and his wife, spoke in the words of the Savior: “Blessed are those who are exiled for the sake of truth” 11. Chapter 6, in which the Orthodox reader is told about the mercy of Abba Isidore, which likens man to the Creator and his Creator God, to all of God’s creation - to dumb animals and to earthly plants and to everything in which life breathes. Father Abba Isidore was merciful to everyone and even to foolish creatures. He cared not only for those who had the image of God, but also took pity on dumb animals; - I cared about the creature that sighs for man 12. He looked after and fed animals and birds; He even had reptiles: frogs, mice and rats. And if Old Avva was ill, then even then he did not forget his younger brothers - he forced others to feed his family. So, even before his death, I asked a family friend about the health of the cat. “Well,” he says, “has the cat recovered?” – I’ve recovered. - “Well, thank God, thank God.” It happened: a cat would bite some bird, and it would lie on the road. Father Isidore will bend down with difficulty and will certainly pick up the wounded woman. Here is a sparrow with a damaged wing that lives in the Elder’s cell until he is cured. Somebody once asked him: “Father, aren’t the mice bothering you?” The elder smiles: “No, nothing, they don’t interfere. I give them dinner and lunch, and they sit quietly. It used to happen: everyone was scratching the cell. And now I put something for them to eat, near the hole, and they don’t even run. No, nothing, they don’t interfere.” “I now have a guest, I don’t live alone,” the Elder once said to the Bishop. The bishop looked, questioningly. “The frog has come running to the Hermitage,” explains Fr. Isidore with a joyful smile. “They are running away,” says the Bishop. “Yes, she ran away and then came back. Now I’ll sing to her, talk to her, and she won’t run away.” And indeed, on one of the stones of the Thebaid (which the attentive reader already knows about) sat a large frog. Abba, bending his gray beard low over the dumb creature and looking straight into the eyes of the frog with his clear eyes, sang to her in an old voice the psalms of the Meek King David. Another Abba, Saint Macarius the Great, repeatedly says that just as the sun, illuminating with its light both impurity and dirt, does not become defiled, but remains pure, so the grace of God enters every soul and remains unsullied 13 . So, from Abba Isidore of Gethsemane, grace-filled power came to everything that came close to him, to man and to cattle, and yet Abba remained supra-mundane, with the help of the Mother of God, “created above the merging of the world.” The Elder had a special love for plants, herbs, flowers, and everything generated by the earth. He would sometimes see weeded weeds, pick them up and plant them in his “Inner Desert” or in his room, in a sardine box found somewhere on the road. He did this because he pitied the silent and quiet children of the earth. For the same reason, he poked nettles into the “Desert”. For the same reason, he picked up broken branches and put them in the water. The elder did not allow others to destroy God’s creation in vain. “After the rules, we somehow got together,” says one of the monastery brothers. - And the Elder had grass growing under his window - (they make sikalki from it) - reindeer moss. And without asking, we cut it off. Father Isidore comes out and says: “Who did this?” The one with me says: “Mikhail cut it, but I brought it.” - “Well, pray for the Church of the Resurrection.” He kneels down and prays. Then Fr. Isidore calls him to his place and gives him three candies as consolation for what he told him sternly. And o. Isidore looked after this reindeer moss and watered it.” Much more could be told to you, reader, about the Elder’s mercy to all creation. But what has been told is enough to testify that he was truly a mourner for the world and an abba (which means: father) not only for people, but also for everything that breathes and lives on earth. Chapter 7, showing how meek and gentle and peace-loving Abba Isidore was, and also telling about his forgiveness of any offense inflicted on him Father Isidore was independent and free. But he was full of meekness and gentleness, forgiveness and non-judgment. He did not condemn anyone, was not angry with anyone, he endured everything; there was no end to his forgiveness. If he noticed that someone was irritated or offended by him, he immediately asked for forgiveness, even if he was not guilty of anything. If someone insulted him with a word and, despite all the efforts of Father, the heart of the offender still did not soften, then Father would quietly go aside and wait for a favorable opportunity. And he also encouraged others to do what he constantly gave them an image of. If words of condemnation were spoken in the presence of Father, then he meekly, but firmly and with authority stopped them - he stopped them so much that no further words could be said. If he saw that someone was in a quarrel with another person, or even that their mutual love had simply cooled, then he always encouraged them to make peace and ask for forgiveness - he encouraged the one who was talking to him, even if he was completely right. Father Isidore asked for it, begged for it, finally demanded it, demanded it quietly and meekly, but persistently and decisively, so that no one would dare disobey this Elder. What happened between this spiritual Father and his spiritual children is known only to those who spoke, and their Heavenly Father. And not a single person about. Isidore did not let this matter slip with even a single nod of his head. These denunciations sank forever in the spiritual depths of the Elder, like a pebble in a deep lake. After the matter was over, it was as if he had completely erased it not only from his soul and memory, but expelled it from existence itself. This means that now there is none of this, and there is nothing to talk about. But it’s worth telling you, reader, a few incidents from the life of Father himself. There was no time for him to keep, feed and support one expelled seminarian for a long time. But the seminarian turned out to be ungrateful and a bad idea came into him from the primordial enemy of the human devil: he decided to kill the Elder and rob his beggarly property. In the absence of the Owner, with whom this seminarian lived, he began to rummage everywhere, looking for money. Then Fr. comes. Isidore. The seminarian, here, swings a knife at him, demanding: “Give me the money!” However, Fr. has money. Isidore was not there. After all, he gave everything to the first person who asked. So, while the seminarian, with a knife in his hands, demanded non-existent money, the brethren came running and defended the Elder. Father Abbot says to the Elder with reproach: “Why do you accept them (i.e. those in need)?” “Father, you can’t demand God knows what from me, an old man! After all, this is my only consolation!” So Fr. didn’t do anything with him. Hegumen, Fr. Isidore continued to let in people who sometimes treated him badly. But only Father carefully hid the latter; and this was somehow discovered by chance. What happened next? Here's what: the seminarian was put on trial, but Fr. Isidore saved his villain from punishment. At the trial, when they began to take Elder Isidore’s testimony, they asked him if he wanted to stab you. And Father: “No,” he says, “he didn’t even think about stabbing me.” Well, the court, of course, is surprised: “But how did he swing a knife and shout that he would kill him?” - “He was screaming... You never know what they’re screaming about, unless they definitely want to kill you.” The seminarian was told at the trial that he was being released because of Isidore’s testimony. Here's another case that happened one day. Father Isidore was insulted once in the kitchen. He came to the kitchen to ask for something, and his assistant Fr. The cellarer so rudely refused what he asked. Think for yourself, reader, would a person like Father Isidore ask for anything extra? But, if he really asked for too much, who dares to judge him? And then he was refused so rudely that the insult was obvious. Whether for this sin, or for some other reason, it so happened that the offender, soon after the said incident, became very ill, lay down on his bed and was near death. As soon as I found out about that Fr. Isidore comes to his offender to ask for his forgiveness: “I supposedly insulted you, I asked for it - which, perhaps, was not necessary...”. After that, assistant Fr. The cellarer recovered. Father o. Isidore not only forgave others for their sins against him, but also covered his brother’s sin with his love - he tried to hide it from others. For example, a frequent visitor was a certain novice, or layman, who wore novice clothes. Father constantly gave him tea, helped him, fussed over him. But this “novice” did wrong to Fr. Isidore: he will come to one of those who honor Father and ask for something on behalf of Father. It is not known whether Father knew about this, but one day the matter was discovered. The said “novice” comes to a certain spiritual son, Fr. Isidora and on behalf of Father Isidora asks for envelopes, postal paper and stamps. He says: “Okay, today I’ll be with Fr. Isidora, I’ll bring it myself!” He comes to Father, hands him a package and says: “Here, Father, you asked...”. And Father denies: “No, I didn’t ask...”. “My brother told me so.” The priest thought for a moment, then immediately realized that there was an abuse of his name, but he wanted to cover up his brother’s sin. Greatly embarrassed by the unexpected discovery, and with a clear sense of shame on behalf of his brother, he decided not to insist that he had not asked for postal supplies. “It’s good that you brought the papers, I’ll need them,” he said, took the bundle and turned the conversation to something else. So he did not betray the sinner, did not condemn him. And not only Fr. Isidore forgave others’ offenses, but he also encouraged others to do the same. Making peace was a necessity for him. Here is one example of this, and from this example the reader will learn at the same time the attitude of Fr. Isidore to the famous elder Fr., who later became his spiritual son. Barnabas. A certain deacon, a student at the Theological Academy, says that shortly before the death of Father he visited the Elder. This latter was reading at that time the Biography of Fr. Barnabas and therefore spoke about this book, approved of it, but, by the way, pointed out the inaccuracy of the story placed on page 17. This is how Fr. relayed this incident. Isidore. One day to Fr. Barnabas, then still a novice Vasily, received a visit from a familiar soldier. Father Barnabas warmly received him and gave him the Holy Gospel as a souvenir, which he himself received as a gift from his Elder Daniel. The latter, having learned what had happened, called his novice and asked him about St. Gospels and when Fr. Barnabas told the whole truth, then Elder Daniel became angry and did not order the novice to show himself to him. This is where Fr. helped. Isidore. Fr. came with deep sorrow. Barnabas went to his friend and teacher (Fr. Isidore taught Fr. Barnabas to read by lines, that is, by accents) and told his grief, seeing no way to correct what had happened. But oh. Isidore was found. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I have this Gospel; you take it and give it to the soldier who is still at the hotel, and take yours from him. Then together we will go to the Elder to ask for forgiveness.” And so they did. On his knees before the Elder Daniel, he begged for the forgiveness of his friend Fr. Isidore, while the guilty one cried. The elder softened at such a touching request and reconciled with Fr. Barnabas. Chapter 8, from which the sincere reader will see that great humility about the Holy Spirit is combined with great independence Let it be known to you, attentive reader, that great modesty and deep humility dwelt in the heart of our Father, Elder Isidore. He rarely spoke of his works to God for, and then only for, edification; generally hid them. He never showed off, never spoke about himself in such a way as to place himself above his interlocutor. He hid his goodness not only from others, but also from himself: he did it and, as it were, forgot about what he had done. Truly, according to the word of the Lord Jesus Christ, Our Savior, his right hand did not know what his left hand was doing. Therefore, he never thought about himself, but always considered himself to be nothing and was quite sincerely confident that there was not a single person worse than him. Sometimes in the heart of the interlocutor, who was sitting with Abba Isidore, joy leapt up at the contemplation of this dense heavenly beauty; It happened that an exclamation escaped from the lips: “Father, how good you are!” But Ava denied it with a bewildered look: “Well, he’s a good man, he’s a bad man.” There was no pride in Ava. He could ask everyone, he could even kneel before everyone, he could kiss the hand of everyone if spiritual healing required it. He humbled himself without tension and without breaking down - simply, as if self-humility was an ordinary thing. But great spiritual humility was combined in Fr. Isidore with great independence. For this Elder there was no person before whom he would be proud, no matter how insignificant and despised and sinful this person was. But for the Elder there was also no such person for whose sake he would betray himself, no matter how influential and official he was. In front of everyone, Ava said what he thought; and especially before famous people. And let it also be known to you, reader, that Abba was not afraid of anyone, did not seek for anyone, did not forget his human dignity for anyone, always felt autocratic, free and obeyed only God. So, even when he was a beardless and beardless cell attendant of the Viceroy of Lavra Anthony, he once intervened in his conversation with Metropolitan Philaret of Moscow 14. The Great Hierarch and the wise Viceroy sat over tea and thought together about the need for an Ecumenical Council and about unification with the Catholics. But the question arose as to who would take precedence at the council. It was foreseen that neither the Orthodox nor the Catholics would be willing to give in, and the council would not take place. Enter Fr. Isidore with a tray filled with tea utensils. “And the Mother of God, that’s who will be the First. So leave the chairman’s seat unoccupied: it will be for the Mother of God.” All my life I cherished Fr. Isidore had this idea about the need to unite the Churches, and church division was for him a personal pain and personal insult. “We are all children of one Mother, we cannot see the suffering of our dear Mother,” he mournfully recalled some verses to memory, and he did this very, very often; apparently, the thought of the division of the Churches greatly bothered him. Sometimes he added: “But everything is one office, because of one letter: we are Catholics, and they are Catholics. We must pray to the Mother of God. This connection will take place through her, but it cannot be accomplished by human forces.” Father connected the union of the Eastern and Western Churches with the final destinies of the world and sometimes, pointing to the anti-Christian movement taking place in Russia and abroad, he said his more hidden and more intimate, mature thought: “The times of the Antichrist are near. Soon there will be such persecution of Christians that we will have to hide.” At these words, Fr. Isidora could not help but believe that this was truly so. His cloudless face became foggy, his clear smile disappeared for a moment, his eyes looked seriously, penetrating the future. It was scary: something was coming, something was approaching... But this moment passed - and the prophetic, prophetic seriousness hid, melted, disappeared. However, this single moment set the mood for a long time. The thought of church unity, in connection with these menacing forebodings, was one of the Elder’s most cherished thoughts. Once he even wrote letters about this thing to Emperor Alexander III, Gladstone and Bismarck. The letters were in pencil, barely literate and, of course, in Russian. The Elder also sent Gladstone and Bismarck some of our liturgical books and a prayer to the Mother of God compiled by N.V. Gogol. It is not known whether the parcels and letters sent to other countries reached, but what is known is that the letter to the Emperor reached the Court and from there a reprimand was sent to the Skete. Subsequently Fr. Isidore himself spoke repeatedly about his exploits and laughed slightly at the unexpected outcome of the matter. But he continued to be fearless and independent. He himself reported other incidents from his life that illuminated his independence with a bright light. During the vicarage of Leonid (there was such a Vicar of the Trinity-Sergius Lavra), the monks were overcome by fear. Leonid was previously a military man and brought military morals with him to the monastery. For example, there is a known case of how he forcibly removed from the ground the last ascetics who had been saving themselves in caves (where the Chernigov Mother of God is now) for many years, and forced them to eat with everyone else. “What kind of posts are these!” said Fr. Viceroy. Everything trembled at this shepherd, who did not want to break with the colonel in monasticism. From here it will be clear to you, reader, that Fr. Isidore, fearless as always, was soon on Fr. Viceroy. The Elder is called, he enters the viceroy's chambers. Fr. Leonid waits for the Elder to come right from the door to kiss his hand, but Fr. Isidore first begins to pray at the icons. O. Leonid flushed all over, and he found a reason to vent his anger. The fact is that Fr. Isidora's right arm was somewhat damaged since childhood, so he could not reach it to his left shoulder. Well, oh. Leonid shouts at him: “Fool! You don’t know how to be baptized!” O. Isidore, clear, calm, looks at Fr. He says straight to the governor’s eyes and simply, without any challenge: “I’m not afraid of you.” He loses his temper and curses. But oh. Isidore declares again: “But I’m not afraid of you.” It seems about. The governor almost pushed the Elder out the door with his own hands. But, they say, this incident had a sobering effect on him, and after that he became more restrained. About his encounter with Fr. The viceroy Father himself told the story with a smile, depicting the whole conversation in his faces. Another similar incident relates to his life in the monastery of Paraclete. O. Isidore decided to install a bulkhead for himself in order to create a closet for excess rubbish. But his superiors, already an old man, began to suspect: “Why?” yes “For what?” The true meaning of these questions was that they wanted to slander the Elder. Then he directly states: “In order to keep women here!” For this answer he was expelled from the Paraclete. Knowing the directness of Fr. Isidora, his courage and independence, was carefully protected from him by all high-ranking persons who visited the Skete. Imitating the founder of the Skete, Saint Philaret, Metropolitan Sergius of Moscow lived here for a time 15. With a staff in his hand, he sometimes walked around the Skete easily. And so, at this time, Father Isidore was guarded in every possible way so that he would not somehow get involved in a conversation with the Metropolitan. They guarded, but once they did not guard. Our Abba Metropolitan met and said to him: “Here, father, what I’ll tell you: they write, in the newspapers, that there is famine in India; Indians are starving, but we have plenty of everything. Send the money (i.e., from the Lavra) there.” Fearing that such a conversation would not be repeated, the metropolitan cell attendant ordered in advance: “When Fr. Sidor, don’t let him in.” Shortly before his death, the Elder again went against everyone. This is how the matter happened: between the Iversky Monastery on Vyksa, founded by Elder Varnava, and the Skete, where Fr. Barnabas, a dispute arose about who owned the body of the Builder. Barnabas himself asked to be buried in the monastery he built, but Skeet wanted to keep the Elder’s body for himself. Then the Iveron nuns reached the Court, and from there a request was made which of the brethren were in favor of handing over the body, and which were against. Only two old men spoke out in favor of extradition, one of whom was Fr. Isidore. And in death, Father remained true to himself. Before his death, Abba himself came to one of the older brothers, on whom the well-being of the needs of the brethren depended and who, as they said, was distinguished by hardness, despite his illness, and presented an icon of the Mother of God, called “The Softening of Evil Hearts.” Here, in this gift, everything was united: tenderness for the brethren, and the desire to influence the hard-hearted with affection, and an appeal to the prayerful help of the Mother of God, and a firm, albeit subtle, hint to the sinning brother. As always, meek Fr. Isidore was not afraid of reproof. But he made his reproofs with such love that it could hardly even occur to the one being rebuked to be angry with him. Chapter 9, in which the writer makes an attempt to tell the reader about the asceticism of Elder Isidore If you, a reader who is forgiving of this Legend, want to know something about the feat of the Great Elder, then, to the best of my ability, I will inform you of what I know. But let it be known to you that Fr. Isidore kept his feat in great silence, as if in the Inner Desert of his innermost man. In ancient times, a certain brother, coming to the Skete to Abba Arsenius of Egypt and looking through the door, saw Elder Arsenius all as if on fire and was horrified by his vision 16 . So we can contemplate the feat of Elder Isidore only by secretly looking into the gate of his Inner Desert; What I can say is accidental and fragmentary. Father Isidore never interrupted his fast, he constantly fasted with pleasant fasting and abstinence of words. Of course, he always had to abstain from brushes and drinks, due to the lack of these drinks and drinks. After all, he had nothing, and if they brought him anything, he gave to others not only what he brought, but, sometimes, his own meal. However, even the little that he had, he did not eat in such a way as to enjoy the natural and lawful sweetness of the food, but deliberately changed its good taste for a worse one. As he himself said: “It’s impossible for everything to be completely good.” It was already told to you about the jam that Fr. Isidore, and about his salad. And in this chapter, listen from Fr. Ephraim, Hieromonk from the Savvinsko-Zvenigorod Monastery, a story about raspberry jam. “I’m not at all surprised,” writes this spiritual son and friend of the late Elder, “I’m not at all surprised that no matter how much they ask the Skete Fathers about the life of Fr. Isidora, they all find it difficult to say anything clear that would make it possible to recognize him as an ascetic elder. How soon will you guess something ascetic from such an incident? During my residence in the Lavra of Sergius, I remember once, during the Assumption Fast, Fr. Isidore. Comes to me. I prepare tea and start serving it to him; For tea I serve raspberry jam, perfectly prepared. The old man eats tea with jam and remarks: “The jam is very good; after all, they say it’s also good for colds.” I say: “Yes, eating raspberries is considered a warming agent and a diaphoretic,” and I suggest that he take the whole jar with him to Pustynka. The elder looked at me and the jar so, a little inquisitively, and said: “It’s a big jar (there were 5-6 pounds of jam in it), but if it’s not a pity, I’ll take it, we can save it for the winter.” I carefully wrapped the jar in newsprint, then tied it with a napkin, and Father took it home in a bundle with other supplies. Just the very next day after visiting the Elder, there was wonderful, completely summer weather, and Lavra Hieromonk Fr. Theodore, also sincerely devoted Fr. Isidora, they decided to take a ride to the Paraclete Hermitage and visit the Elder. We arrived and knocked, as usual, with prayer on the door of the cell. The door opens, and Father greets us with his angelically bright, good-natured smile and greeting: “Dear guests! Welcome! Look how you missed me so quickly! Well, let’s go to the stumps 17, I’ll bring a samovar there, and we’ll drink tea there.” Suddenly I accidentally saw in the sensibilities on the shelf the jar of jam given yesterday, in which there was already less than half of the jam, and in the rest fresh cucumbers cut into slices... I couldn’t resist, I shouted: “Father, isn’t it a sin and a shame for you to spoil good jam and chop cucumbers into it?!..” The elder answers me graciously: “And you - don’t get too excited!.. It’s impossible for everything to be completely good... you’ll enjoy it very much... But this way, half and half, it’s nothing.” I ask: “Where did you put the jam?” Did they split it among other banks or something?” - “Yes, that’s it, I laid it out: yesterday when I came from you, I put it in a tea cup and took it to an old man here, a blind monk, Fr. Ammonia, and gave a little to Ignash the canonarch, and a little to Vanyusha the bell-ringer - they’re all your friends, it seems?” I answer that I have never even heard of them. - “Well, I told them that Serenya (my worldly name is Sergius) gave them jam, and remember him in prayer... So it will be good.” I say: “Father, you wanted to save the jam for winter?” - “Well, here you are again repeating all your thoughts... Go to the tree stumps and drink tea; and there’s nothing else to treat you with: no one was expecting you today.” This is how the elder fasted. But he valued prayer more; lived and breathed and fed on it. He constantly read the Jesus Prayer in his mind, as Elder Abraham testifies. In the corner of his Inner Desert he often prayed for a long time, kneeling on a large stone, competing with Seraphim, the Wonderworker of Sarov. Every all-night vigil and every liturgy, he remained kneeling on the cold floor, in the lower tier of the church of St. Philaret the Merciful. He constantly remembered the Lord Jesus Christ and often, with deep heartfelt tenderness, repeated the prayer about His five plagues, which the reader will become familiar with below, if God blesses the writer to finish the Legend. However, about the most important thing in Fr. Isidora (consider his feat of prayer) don’t even know what to say. Breathing is necessary for a person; but if they asked you, reader, to tell about the breath of your father according to the flesh, how much would you say? – Not much, because breathing is too natural for a person. So, for Father Abba Isidore, prayer was too natural. We did not notice in him this inhalation of the grace of God into ourselves, just as you did not notice the inhalation of air into yourself by your father according to the flesh. It would be a different matter if your father in the flesh breathed air, and our father in spirit breathed grace occasionally: once or twice a day, or, moreover, a week. But this was not the Elder’s prayer life. Everyone felt that Fr. Isidore does not stop praying either in conversation or in household chores; and yet no one dared to ask him about it. Yes, to tell the truth, these questions seemed idle and unnecessary. Chapter 10, which aims to point out to the reader the spiritual freedom of the gracious Elder Isidore, and also tells how he was abused Abba Isidore's deep humility did not preclude his decisive independence from human opinions. In the same way, his asceticism did not deny the fullness of spiritual freedom. Truly, Father realized that “the Son of Man is the Lord of the Sabbath” and that “the Sabbath is for man, and not man is for the Sabbath” 18. It was not legal, but free. He lived by statute; but under every circumstance of his life, he knew what was the spirit of the church charter and what was the letter. And, if necessary, he freely and authoritatively violated the letter for the sake of preserving the spirit. That’s why one could hear opinions about him: “I didn’t see anything special in his life... He didn’t live particularly strictly: he used everything. I’ve also been to the bathhouse, but be careful. He was not ashamed of the bathhouse - to be in the bathhouse. And he drank wine.” But there were also direct violations of the charter. So, one day Elder Abraham comes to a certain house, to a family, and it was a fast day. The elder is offered: “Would you like some scrambled eggs?” “No, I’m afraid,” Fr. refuses. Abraham. “And we fed Fr. scrambled eggs. Isidora." In order not to cause trouble to the hospitable hosts, Father Fr. Isidore grew fat on a fast day. The Elder repeatedly said: “It is better not to fast than to offend a person by refusal.” Another time both Elders were together in the same house. It was a fast day again. The elders are offered butter. O. Isidore spreads it on bread and eats it, but the other Elder does not take what is offered. “Why don’t you eat?” asks Fr. Isidore. “I order you to eat.” “I’m not your spiritual son,” Elder Abraham objects. One day, during the first week of Great Lent, the Elder himself informs the Bishop: “Here, father, forgive my sin, I was humbled in the first week of Great Lent.” “How is that?” asks the Bishop. “There was some milk left, it was a pity to throw it away, so I drank it.” So oh. Isidore was humiliated twice in the first week of Lent, and this happened just a few years before his death, when he was already of old age. But who knows how to understand these cases? Perhaps he was accustoming himself to the ultimate humility? Or – which is also possible – did he teach humility to his interlocutor? And from the wine o. Isidore did not refuse. He said: “Insulting a person with a refusal is much worse.” At meals, when offered, he drank a glass and sometimes another half; In his old age he drank three, but never agreed to drink more than that. He didn't seem to adhere to the usual rule either. The bishop sometimes asked him: “What rule do you follow, Father?” “I don’t have any rules,” answered the Elder. “Why not? After all, you served with the charter officers.” - “So, no. When I asked the Elder on Athos (Fr. Isidore lived at one time on Old Athos) about the charter, he said: “What are your rules? I don’t have one myself. Here's a rule for you - constantly say: “Lord, have mercy.” You’ll forget a big prayer, but you won’t forget this one, just two words.” Such a simple rule,” Fr. finished smiling. Isidore, “and I can’t do even that.” However, you need to understand the meaning of these words. Father Isidore did not at all reject the charter and he himself read not only “Lord, have mercy,” but also much more; but by his answer he at once demonstrated his great humility and his great freedom of spirit; and taught others the same. Sometimes he left the Skete without asking. One of the Elders said: “We had one recluse, Fr. Alexander. O. Isidore was close to Fr. Alexander, - they confessed their sins to each other. O. Isidore treated sins lightly. It happened: if you met him outside the Skete, you would ask: “Father, did you ask?” We began to ask Bishop E., but the Abbot would not let us in, he said: “He will laugh at you; I’ll tell him.” And o. Isidore then says: “After all, he, the Abbot, has his own policy,” and he continued to go to the Bishop.” How free-spirited Fr. Isidore, you can see, reader, at least from the fact that during confession, sometimes, with an epitrachelion on his chest and one bracelet on his hand, Father went to look after the samovar, and forced the confessor to read his sins in private from a list of them pasted on cardboard. Soaring above the world, Father could enter it with impunity. He did not despise the world, did not disdain it and was not afraid of it; he simply always carried within himself a power that gave him the ability to overcome the world and let it purified into his consciousness. The temptation of the world was not tempting for him, and the charm of the world did not seduce his pure heart. One day, says the above-mentioned Fr. Ephraim,” he enters his cell and sees a novel by Paul de Kock on his table. O. Ephraim guesses that one of the monks planted this book on him as a mockery. But at this time Fr. comes. Isidore, and it turns out, to the extreme surprise of Fr. Ephraim for putting the book here Fr. Isidore. “Do you know what kind of book this is? Where did you get it from?” the amazed owner of the cell asks the Elder. Father Isidore then explains that the book was brought to him, probably as a mockery, by one of the brethren. “You are a scientist,” Father turns to Fr. Ephraim - I’m passing it on to you.” - “But she’s indecent.” “Nothing, nothing, read. Whatever is bad, throw it away, and put the good in your heart,” the Elder objects. This is how free-spirited Abba Isidore was. He did everything easily, without tension, as if he were playing. And in every spontaneous movement of his soul, power was felt - greater than the attempts and efforts of other people. Yes - in front of everyone. And what he did, remaining face to face before God, who knows and who can comprehend except his Interlocutor. Chapter 11, giving the reader information about what happened during confession with Elder Isidore No matter what day or hour you come to Fr. Isidore, he will never refuse to confess you. Moreover: when asked, he, depressed by age and illness, does not refuse to come to confession at home, in Posad, although it is three miles from Skete to Posad. “About about. Isidora, says one Elder, was constantly hovering around with all sorts of sins. Well, these are living illegally... He had all sorts of people with swords. He was in danger during the strike 19. They come and say: “Well, we killed so many people, but it depended not on us, but on the authorities...”. He had enough spirit, he could promise anything. I see some people come out with swords - I got to know these people.” - “Did you, Father, talk about how someone hacked people to death?” Even a few days before his death, barely having the strength to rise on his bed, Elder Isidore still confessed. The desire of the penitent to be cleansed is what Fr. turned his spiritual gaze to during confession. Isidore: he gave little instruction of any kind. The spiritual simplicity of the Elder softened even old wounds in the soul. Sometimes he himself said: “People come to me. A person carries sin with him for 20 years, but he will tell me.” Even with a simple meeting with Fr. For some reason, Isidore’s gaze warmed the upset soul, calmed it, as if piercing it all through with a gentle ray of sunshine. When did anyone have an unclean soul, and Fr. Isidore will meet his sinful brother, look him in the eyes - it was impossible to meet his radiant gaze. So, one day someone, with a burdened conscience, fell on his knees before Abba, asking for prayer; and he saw Ava for the first time. One of the hermits told about his meeting with Father in the garden: “He took me by the hand and looked into my eyes... It seemed to me that he saw right through everything. I raised and lowered my head, and he said: Usually about. Isidore gave the confessor a special list of sins and forced him to read it out loud and at the same time mentally note to himself what he had sinned. It even happened that during such a reading he left his cell, wearing a tattered epitrachelion and one worn-out robe, to prepare a meal for his confessor. Never got angry; if it was a sin, I grieved with you, but was not angry. He treated everything calmly, simply and evenly, and only said lovingly: “We need to pray more.” In particular, he advised turning to the intercession of the Mother of God. But invariably, he pointed out to everyone the effectiveness of the prayer for the five plagues of the Savior and taught how to pray with it. The Elder’s confession, simple in appearance, was completely special due to some elusive spirit of eternity. Usually during confession you see a person in front of you. But here it was quite the opposite: the confessor saw himself not in the face of a person, not even a witness of the Lord, but in the face of Eternity Itself. Something immutable looks at you, sees you, and at the same time, does not look and does not see. You confess, as it were, to the Universe. No complaints, no reproaches, not even a single movement on the Elder’s face. There were no special questions. In a word, each confessor knew for sure that he had entered the kingdom of freedom. So - in relation to the laity and in general all non-skete. In Skete, Fr. Isidore was not the appointed confessor for everyone, although - earlier - for eight years he confessed to the hieromonks. However, it often happened that the Confessor appointed from the Skete, in the hope of correcting one or another brother, treated him harshly or even expelled him: “Don’t come to me anymore.” The sinner was ready to fall into despair or become bitter, and so, with sorrow in his soul, he resorted to the help of Fr. Isidora. Father accepted everyone, and from one glance from the Elder, the desperate and bitter soul softened. But oh. The confessor was angry with the Elder, who acted contrary to his intentions, and even complained to Fr. Abbot, saying that it is impossible to correct the brethren this way. But oh. Isidore, despite the prohibitions, still could not help but accept those who came to repent and, seeing desperation, acted with love, and not with severity. He did not impose penance, but, on the contrary, tried to console, encourage, calm and bring peace to the soul. So, one of the brothers sometimes drinks. O. Isidore accepted him and drove away evil despair and hopelessness. But it also happened differently. It happened that they came to Father not because Fr. Confessor, but simply wanting to get rid of the expected penance. And the Elder accepted such people, but prescribed penance. “This,” he said, “is for a double sin: for running away from the confessor and for the one for which the brother came to repent.” I had to eat sausages alone: ​​they offered it at the Lavra, I didn’t want to refuse. My brother was afraid to go to Fr. The confessor comes to Fr. Isidora, tells about what happened. “Are you full?” asks Ava Isidore. - “I’m so full: I only ate three slices.” “Well, here, three hundred bows.” - “Why, Father, only three slices?..” “No, otherwise I won’t forgive you. Then go to the confessor. Three hundred bows." - “I ate a little, they offered...” “For a double sin: for the sausage and for the fact that I wanted to avoid the Confessor.” But even in this severity of the Elder there was a lot of gentleness: Fr. Isidore knew that the Confessor would appoint more than three hundred bows. The penitent had to agree to the assigned penance. Chapter 12, which contains “Talk about the Stone,” that is, the story of a certain professor about how he visited Fr. Isidora and what happened from here One day, a certain professor called to him the writer of the Tale - which you, dear reader, lies before your eyes - and began to talk about how he visited Elder Isidore and how the Elder confessed him. The memory of this confession greatly agitated the professor’s soul; For a long time he could not find the right words, so he repeatedly returned to the beginning of his story. After some time, he managed to stop the tears that were constantly welling up from the idea of ​​Fr. Isidore, and collect his thoughts a little. Then he - still not satisfied with his words - ordered his interlocutor to write down the following narrative, which he called / “I’m afraid of intelligence,” he began, “I’m afraid that my words might seem like Fr. The intellectual simply liked Isidore. This is not exactly... The essence of the matter is that I (a certain professor, a certain intellectual, a certain patient, write as you know) bumped directly head-on into this Elder, and there was nothing between me and him, between me and Christ. I went to the Elder, maddened by church issues, maddened by politics, maddened by the Bishops, maddened by Merezhkovsky, maddened by the Theological Academy with its professors. But no matter how much rationalism and anger I carried with me, it all melted away in Fr. Isidora. Then the same thing happened; then I was sick again. But down to the smallest details, before a clear idea of ​​clothing, eyes, etc., the impression of this blow against something solid remained and remains. Kelly, flowers, doesn’t smell like anything. The air is clean. You breathe freely. I don’t know how to describe cells; I usually don’t remember the details. But there was something terribly bright, clean, light in the cell - something absolutely amazing. Now I’ve gathered my thoughts somewhat and will tell you about my visit in order. I entered the cell, knowing what a cell was. I was about 50 years old. I saw monks and priests, both of them. I came with a feeling of formal humility, sent by the Bishop to his confessor; and the point is not that I was consoled, as I would have been consoled by the first priest I came across, whom I recognize, dictating this, as my father and judge in the matter of confession and my relationships. No, that's what it was. I entered with a friend into a small cell in the corner of the monastery. I was struck by the clarity, purity and simplicity of what surrounded me, and it seemed to me that everything would be as it had always been, that a dear, decent monk would receive me kindly and decently, that I would confess decently, and everything would be as it should be. But here’s what was wrong: it suddenly seemed to me that in this cell, in its simplicity, there was infinite power. I myself did not know what it was about, and with all my doubt I said to myself: “You,” you recite, you are nervous, you draw pictures for yourself.” Then the Old Man, clearly understanding - this now I know - who I am and what I am, met me like a stupid, ignorant monk, and in a conversation of several minutes, when I wanted to prove and explain something to him, I clearly saw that I could not explain or tell him anything. I saw that if I began to explain to him, right now, having entered the cell, he would briefly and clearly answer me that I was smarter than him in theology, in philosophy, in everything, that I knew everything better than him, starting from philosophy and ending with the catechism, and that why I was brought to him, the Elder, to look for something and ask. Then I felt that I had come to look for someone else, and I just began to cry. The Elder responded to my crying with prayer and the fact that “those who mourn will be comforted.” And again I realized that this answer, both prayers and for those who cry, says to me: “This is what I answer you and what you would answer yourself, since you came to me for a catechetical or homiletical answer.” I felt ashamed again. Then I simply and definitely felt that, by God’s grace, I was where I needed to be, and I asked the Elder to confess me and the friend who had come with me. It was then that I experienced what I call the impression of the Church. The elder stood up and, as he was dressed - in an untucked shirt, ports and pistons on his legs - calmly stood up and said: Taking out the epitrachelion, he put it on himself; He fastened an old brocade handrail onto his shirt with his power and blessed God. Then he, turning to me and a friend, demanded that we begin reading Psalm 50, the Creed and prayers. I could barely read these Psalms and prayers, although I knew them in three languages, stumbling from word to word and feeling, when I was corrected, that strength supported and guided me. When we read the prayers, he handed me a book from which I could read the statutory confession of sins. At the same time, he looked at me and at my friend standing next to me and told me with his gaze that, according to his power, he did not need my chatter and detail, that I should read together with my brother standing next to me what was written here, repenting and confessing what I heard and saw. I was ashamed that I emphasized certain words of the confessional prayer. It seemed to me that the Elder was telling me: “Why is this necessary? Why do I need, smart girl, your logic and your understanding?” When he read the prayer of dismissal, I could only tell him one thing: “It’s in my soul right now,” I don’t understand why, “Christ is risen from the dead.” “I trampled death upon death and gave life to those in the tombs.” Then I cried again, and he again told me that I would be comforted, and when I left, he kissed my hand. I know only one thing: that I saw the Stone and on it the Church 20, and that later I attributed all sorts of confusion to that minute. And I can’t say anything more than this greatness. This will forever remain with me as a great blow. The Church opened for a moment and then disappeared - the Church in ports and golden bands and stoles on the Stone. Never anything like this... After all, Fr. Isidore was an “unimportant” confessor, as we say, not popular. I knew and saw confessors and elders—“men,” as they say, and “smart men,” as they say. But the fact of the matter is that I, an aristocrat, did not see either a man or a clever girl in him. The fact of the matter is that all my definitions were not useful to me. And I repeat again: “He is neither this nor that; he is more than that. He is not Barnabas (I didn’t know him, but I heard that he somehow knew how to handle things like a man). He is not the sophisticated confessor that I saw so many of in Moscow. He is something average, that is, great, which cannot be reduced to my definitions. I know one Bishop. He is also gracious. But he must be coerced, grace must be coerced from him. And there, with Fr. Isidore, there was some extraordinary lightness in the relationship. To make it clear what I'm talking about, I'll explain my words again: The so-called “men-priests” are unusually easy. I know very well how easy it is to confess to whatever peasant peasants you want - either fools or Black Hundreds. But you always leave something with you as a plus, something you feel that they cannot understand and understanding of which you do not dare demand from them. This is not the case here. Here the lightness is direct and immediate. It's terribly rare to not have a double curtain. And my entire impression is summed up in this: I, an intelligent, educated, learned person, know all the conventions with which one can approach another confessing soul. But I was confused by all these conventions: there was nothing of this in that soul,” oh. Isidore was not there.” This is how the narrator ended his story. Chapter 13, from which the reader learns what Elder Isidore taught in his conversations Abba Isidore did not like to give instructions, nor did he like to reason like a scientist. And he not only guarded himself, but also stopped others: “Don’t be too curious about this thing,” he used to say; “It’s dangerous for a monk to be too curious.” And he spoke harshly about the “Dogmatics” of Metropolitan Macarius of Moscow 21 and said about its Author: “So I drowned myself because of this,” that is, because of the desire to squeeze living faith in the grip of reason. Father was so cautious in his discussion of faith. “I was a little shy against their (i.e., Father Isidore and Father Barnabas) prejudices,” says a certain Elder. “Such, folk. They don’t know anything, and oh. Barnabas, and Fr. Isidore. They do not satisfy the catechism of Macarius. And I from Fr. Barnabas I hear complaints about Metropolitan Macarius. They do not know how to separate dogma from morality. Dogmatic theology is one thing, and moral theology is another; and there is also an accusatory... The elder who spoke these words is right in his own way. Indeed, Father did not study theology, because he had a spiritual life in God and spiritual knowledge of God, and in this Divine life it was impossible to draw a line separating different subjects of school teaching. In Father’s soul, any order established by division into books, chapters, departments and subdivisions was violated, because a different order reigned in it - an order that is given not by teachers and professors, but by the Holy Spirit. And I often wanted to ask about Abba Isidore: “How does he know the Scripture without studying?” I repeat to you, dear reader, that the strength of Abba Isidore was not in wise words, but in the spiritual strength that accompanied his words, even the most ordinary ones. But if you are still curious to know what he was talking about. Isidore, then, I’ll give you a few examples; however, when reading them, you must firmly keep in mind that the words of Abba Isidore, taken regardless of who pronounces them, retain almost nothing of Isidore in themselves and fade like blue flax flowers torn from the stem. “I remember,” says the previously mentioned Fr. Hieromonk Ephraim, I remember: when the letters of Metropolitan Philaret to the Viceroy of Lavra Archimandrite Anthony 22 came out of print, and in one of them I read the Bishop’s note: “Isidore answered well,” I, at the first opportunity, appeared to Fr. Isidore, asked him what he answered to the Metropolitan, and the Elder told me the following: “Three of us came to the Vladyka for ordination: me as a hieromonk and two more monks as a hierodeacon. The Bishop began to ask from the youngest, and, turning to the youngest, asked: “How do you hope to be saved?” And he answered: “With humility.” And the Lord said: “Do you have much of it?” and asked another: “How do you hope to be saved?” "Through your holy prayers." “Where did you learn to be a hypocrite like that?” and then he asked me: “By the suffering on the Cross and the death of Our Savior Lord Jesus Christ.” The Bishop crossed himself and said: “Here, remember this answer and remember it always.” The same person writes about Fr. Isidore: “He was deeply imbued with knowledge of the dogmatic truths of the holy Orthodox faith and to questions about such he always gave completely correct answers, based on sayings from Holy Scripture and the Holy Fathers.” Most often, Abba Isidore spoke about the Mother of God, about the Church and about the suffering on the cross and the death of the Savior. All this, however, was not for him separate questions, but somehow combined into one. He often compared the “birth” of the foremother Eve from the side of Adam with the “birth” of the Mother Church from the side of Christ. Adam's wonderful dream. Isidore equated the removal of a rib from Adam to the mysterious sleep of the Lord with the piercing of the Lord in the side with a spear; He timed the miraculous flow of blood and water from the wound of Christ to coincide with the very birth of the Church 23. And, somehow, this birth of the Church was combined in his mind with a wound in the heart of the Mother of God from the weapon that passed through him. For Father Isidore, the suffering of the Mother of God was somehow connected with the grace of the Church. “Christ gave birth to the Church,” he sometimes added, “and we became one together.” The pinnacle of the theology of Fr. Isidora was his Jesus Prayer, which included these thoughts as a hint. The reader will learn this prayer from the next chapter. The Elder revered and loved the saints of God, and his relationship with them was deep, heartfelt, and living. The elder always lived in soul among the saints - he was close to them as to relatives and even more. But special respect to Fr. Isidore had to Rev. Seraphim, the Wonderworker of Sarov, to the monk George the Recluse, to Tikhon of Zadonsk and to someone else. And he usually referred to these bearers of grace-filled life in conversation: The Elder did not like to speak on his own behalf. Often with deep tenderness he repeated after St. Seraphim: “My joy, my joy! acquire a peaceful spirit, and thousands of souls will be saved around you” 24. When it came to idle words and especially angry ones, he pointed to the power of the word and at the same time often recalled the poems of St. George the Recluse 25: You, my spirit, hurry towards eternity. He said even more often, usually at parting: beware of anger and idle words - and you will be a Christian theologian, and sometimes the first two verses are slightly different, like this: keep yourself from anger and from idle words - and you will be a Christian theologian. Father Isidore also loved to speak - and with great animation - a poetic arrangement of one of the psalms, which he had read in some magazine, and which he liked very much. At the same time, he became all excited and read expressively and with force. Sometimes he gave the guest a thick book - an arrangement of psalms into verses, compiled by some blind priest, and, drawing attention to this last circumstance (“he’s blind!”), asked him to read his rather ponderous verses out loud. I remembered Derzhavin’s ode “God” on other occasions. But most often he spoke with great warmth about N.V. Gogol and recited by heart a poetic prayer composed by Gogol to the Most Holy Theotokos. Every time, first, the epigraph will be quickly pronounced: “No one flows to You, shame comes from You, Most Pure Virgin Mary, but asks for grace and accepts the gift of a useful petition.” Then he began the prayer itself: “To You, O Most Holy Mother, I dare to raise my voice,” etc. 26 For some reason he loved this prayer very much. He also recalled a poetic prayer about the Cross of Christ: “Glorious is the power of the Cross of the Lord she is brilliant everywhere,” etc. One of his favorite prayers was the following passage in the works of St. Dmitry of Rostov 27: And “My dear Jesus, sweetest heart, e Joy is one in sorrow, my joy! Say to my soul: “Your salvation is mine, O cleansing of sins and entry into heaven! m It is good for me to cleave to You, God, Oh, I hope for mercy from You. n But who will help me in my troubles, a sinner, - And if not You, O All-merciful Jesus God? x I want to be one with You, Let me always have You, Christ, in my heart! and Deign to dwell in me, appear to me for good, Do not disdain the many sinners, the unworthy! and my stomach disappeared in illness without You, God: You are my strength, and health, and much glory. I rejoice in You and am glad, and in You throughout all ages, my God, I will boast.” But most often, Abba Isidore forced those who came to him to sing with him “Blessed” in the 5th tone from the Service for the Burial of the Mother of God, performed in the Gethsemane monastery on August 17, for the Dormition and Ascension of the Blessed Virgin Mary. “Blessed Lady, enlighten me with the light of Your Son. The council of angels was surprised, in vain you were counted among the dead, your soul betrayed into the hand of God, and ascended with God, Most Immaculate, with divine glory into heaven,” etc. This is how the gray-haired Elder Isidore sang to the Virgin Mary. And, at the end of the poems, he asked his guests to copy them for themselves and sing them more often at home. Father Isidore constantly insisted that purity and peace and meekness come from the Mother of God and that She Herself, the long-suffering one, will come to the aid of those who call upon Her. He invariably asked his guests whether they had already been to the Mother of God (of Chernigov, in the underground Church), and if the guests denied it, then Father asked them to go to Her to pray. When to o. When two friends came to Isidore, he always expressed his joy and approval, seeing their friendship, but at the same time persistently repeated each time that it was necessary to live in peace: “We strengthen brother from brother, he finished, as if he had foreseen the possibility of each one breaking apart and falling apart. When someone complained to Abba about illness or some misfortune, the Elder, almost with envy - if I may use this inappropriate word - used to say: “You see how God loves you, he remembers you.” One brother was sick. Elder Isidore meets him once and asks: “Well, Misha, how are you making peace?” “Don’t you know that if God visits you with some kind of illness or misfortune, it means that He loves you? Now the Lord visits us with illnesses, and this will be imputed to us.” Chapter 14 is the most instructive, for it teaches the reader the grace-filled Jesus Prayer of Elder Isidore, which has the potential to bring considerable spiritual consolation to anyone who begins to read it wisely Whoever comes to Fr. Isidora, Father taught everyone to pray the Jesus Prayer, composed by him or, perhaps, revealed to him from above. And Father himself constantly prayed with it. The Elder attached much importance to this prayer (the inquisitive reader will read it below) in the fight against thoughts and considered it full of grace-filled power. One can guess from something that he himself recognized her in a certain vision; but he did not expand on the origin of the Prayer, although he strongly advised everyone to read it. Peace of mind, taming irritability, malice and anger, driving away lustful thoughts and passionate dreams - these are the needs for which this Prayer for the five plagues of the Savior and for weapons in the soul of His Most Pure Mother best helps. This is what the Elder said, and as proof he sometimes referred to how this prayer once shook the demons that possessed a woman. The elder read this Prayer, turning his face to the icon case. He pronounced the first part slowly, as if with some expectation, and at the same time looked at St. Crucifixion. While pronouncing the second part, I contemplated the icon of the Most Pure Virgin. This part of the Prayer was pronounced by him quickly, with animation and joyful hope. And, having once said this little prayer, the Elder even changed in appearance. It was as if some light was shining from his eyes, and he himself shone with that banquet joy, which can only be learned from the Song of Songs, and even from the Marriage of the Lamb in the Revelation of St. John the Theologian. The gracious effect of prayer was visible first of all on himself. He knew it. That is why he so often asked others to be treated with this medicine. “Cross yourself wisely,” like this, “and the temptation will pass,” he told his visitor when he complained to him about temptations, sadness or grief, and at the same time the Elder crossed himself while reading the Jesus Prayer. “If you get up, then say this (a prayer followed), turn to the Mother of God. She herself is pure, she loves cleanliness, and she will help you.” With these and other words, Elder Isidore urged to pray the Prayer for the five plagues of the Lord Jesus Christ and for the weapon in the heart of His Most Pure Mother the Virgin Mary. But while the Elder was alive, for some reason this prayer was poorly received by both the monastery brethren and the laity. It’s something surprising, but almost no one even remembers it, although it’s not difficult, and it’s not long, apparently. Some even considered it indecent that such a “common people” prayer, as they said, and, moreover, not taken from a book, was taught by the Elder to everyone he met, educated people. “I composed a prayer myself,” said one of the brethren. - He will come to the name of the river, I am surprised how he has the courage. Where he is visiting with me, well, he imposes his prayer and notebooks” (i.e., the sheets that have already been mentioned). This was how it was during the life of the spirit-bearing Elder. But as soon as he departed from this world, many realized that they did not know the Prayer for the Five Plagues, they copied it for themselves for prayerful use, and others memorized it. And many testify to the great grace-filled power of Elder Isidore’s prayer, especially against bad thoughts and absurd dreams. “The prayer for the five plagues of the Savior is so strong,” says one of the monastery brethren from his own experience, “such that the demons cannot resist it.” Here, God-minded reader, is this last earthly gift of our Father, the whitened Elder Isidore. Read it for the health of your soul and body and teach it to your neighbors, for the sake of the memory of the Elder, may the Lord have mercy on you through his prayers. Prayer for the five plagues of the Savior, which Elder Isidore taught his spiritual children to pray Place your hand on your forehead and say: Lord, crowned with thorns on Your head, to blood and marrow, for the sake of my sins; Lowering your hand to your right leg, say: Jesus, pierced in the right foot with an iron nail for my sins; Place your hand on your left leg and say: Christ, pierced in the left leg with an iron nail for my sins; Raising your hand to your right shoulder, say: Son, pierced in the right hand with an iron nail for my sins; Moving your hand to your left shoulder, say: God, and pierced into the left hand for my sins; and pierced into the rib with a spear, bleeding blood and water from the rib for the atonement and salvation of our souls; Turning your face to the icon of the Mother of God, say: And the weapon will pierce your soul, so that from many hearts a source of repentant and grateful heartfelt tears of all humanity will open. Chapter 15, written for this purpose, let the humble reader know that Elder Isidore was not alien to the gift of clairvoyance and miracle-working Is there any need to remind you, God-minded reader, that neither the gift of clairvoyance, nor the gift of miracles, or any other, by itself, instills the Spirit of God in a person? As a good Christian, you, of course, tirelessly revolve in your mind that the Kingdom of God is righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit, and not miracles or prophecies or healings, as many wise men spoke about in the writings of the Fathers. But you also don’t know that the lover of God, who seeks the Kingdom of God for himself, receives, along with the Spirit, His gifts. And the Savior said: “Seek above all else the Kingdom of God, and all this will be added to you.” Truly this was Elder Isidore. He never chased after what people marvel at, but, like a certain wise merchant, most of all he sought the precious margarita of his soul. God reigned in her, and with God - spiritual joy and abundant life, promised by the Savior to His disciples. But this living moisture, endlessly pouring out from Isidor’s heart, made transparent, as if from a crystal vessel overflowing, created signs and gave the Elder unknown powers. For those who visited the Elder, there was no doubt that he sees and knows what is hidden by man; however, these obvious signs were imputed as nothing against Abba himself, for who would look at the decoration of the king’s palace in the presence of the king himself? And Father was reluctant to talk about his spiritual gifts, because he considered them a natural consequence of living in God. So, when they told him about his insight, he answered calmly: “God is with us, He is close to us, He sees with our eyes.” Not once, not twice, not three, but many times, and not just one of Avva’s disciples, but many were convinced that Abba, when visiting him, was the first to begin talking about the matter for which they came to him. You come, and he greets you with advice about the very thing you wanted to ask him about. Such incidents seemed so common to the disciples of the Elder that no one bothered to write them down, and now they have disappeared from memory. But here, for example, are several such stories that accidentally survived for the edification of those who did not have the chance to see the Elder. Someone was leaving far from Sergievsky Posad and, on his way back, there was an unexpected meeting that made him vaguely worried. The fact was that he met the wife of one of his acquaintances, and she spoke about the difficult moral state and despair of her husband. It would have been necessary to get off the train at the nearest station and see this acquaintance, but for some reason such a thought did not come to mind, or perhaps, as they say, the devil closed it with his tail. Arriving in Sergievsky Posad directly for the liturgy, this same name during the divine service suddenly realized that he needed to immediately go back to catch up. And since the train left for that city late at night, someone had time to go to Elder Isidore for a blessing. The weather was changing when he approached Father’s house. The priest met him at the door and, not having time to give his blessing, said to the one who had not yet arrived, pointing to the snowflakes circling in the air: “Look, look, good deeds fly like flies! We have to go quickly, otherwise there might be trains!” Then he confirmed the need to go that same night, gave his blessing, and even himself wrote a letter in his senile, trembling and inept letters to the one in need of help. Here's another story. One day a certain spiritual son of his (named Fr. G.) comes to Elder Isidore, confesses and then gives 2 rubles. O. Isidore takes this money. Then the thought flashed through the giver: “Why is he taking it: he knows that I am poor.” O. Isidore did not say a word to this thought. But during further conversation, someone came - from the poor - to whom Fr. Isidore ordered to come for money in the evening, although there was no money at that time. The priest hands over 2 rubles to this petitioner and adds: “Here comes a kind man who gives you money.” Then, seeing Fr. G., says to him in private: “Don’t be embarrassed that I took 2 rubles from you: prayers through them, through the laity, will reach God more easily than from you and me.” This case about. G. interprets it as undoubted insight. If anyone came to Fr. Isidora, with sin in his soul, if anyone had a quarrel with a loved one, or a cooling of love, then Father always spoke about this thing himself, or with two or three questions he forced him to confess and repent. This became such a common occurrence for everyone that when someone persisted in sin, they tried not to catch the Elder’s eye. Life in another world was the ordinary life of the Elder. Often in his dreams he saw the Mother of God, the Monk Seraphim and other saints, and the Elder listened to their beneficent suggestions. Here, for example, is how Elder Isidore’s acquaintance with Bishop E began. “Until 1904 I was not able to see Fr. Isidora,” says Bishop E., “although I heard a lot about him while still a student at the Academy. Our first meeting was in May 1904. It was a wonderful day, I went out into the Academic Garden. A bent old man, with a stick, in a scufe, plops towards you. He meets and says: “Father, are you the Eminence?” – I’m very glad to meet you. - I’m on business: tonight the Mother of God appeared and said: “Didn’t you take the blessing from the new Right Reverend?” So I came..." With his high mood, Father also understood the signs of the dumb creature. He repeatedly told, for example, how a ball of fire once appeared in a church in his homeland, scorching the iconostasis, and in this ball Father saw a miracle of God, after which he left the world. And smiling slightly, the Elder invariably added: “Perhaps they will say that this is so, it happened by itself. But I thought differently...” This is true in reality. Others, free-thinking (let the God-loving reader not be tempted by such!) will say in a scientific manner that it was “ball lightning.” Well, so what? Can't God speak to us with ball lightning? In His hands is all creation, through which He tells us: but our heart has grown coarse, and so we do not understand the words of God. Father, Fr. Isidore listened to the creature with a pure heart; for him the word of God sounded in creation, and therefore the whole world was filled with wonderful signs and secret suggestions for the Elder. For him, the spirit-bearing one, ball lightning was a miracle: an earthly soul will not see the sign of God even at the end of the world. The wicked man who desires to live without God is punished by the fact that the eyes of his heart darken; he no longer sees or knows God and does not understand the signs of His wrath, and therefore nothing pushes him to look around and repent: he lives as if in a dream, but he himself does not understand it and takes his sleepy dreams for true reality. This is not at all how the Elder lived, always sober and alert in spirit. He listened to God's creature, and God's creature listened to him. Invisible threads connected him to the innermost heart of the creature. Not only was peace a sign for Elder Isidore, but the Elder himself was a sign for peace. And indeed, something happened around the Elder that does not happen around others. He himself told, for example, such a case. On the day of the Dormition of the Mother of God, when access to the Skete is not prohibited for women, one day a certain woman comes to him and complains of a constant headache. “And cross yourself wisely,” the Elder said to the woman who came and taught her his prayer about the five plagues of the Savior. The woman began to make a reasonable sign of the cross, but as soon as she raised her hand to her forehead, she shook and fell to the ground, writhing, with black foam appearing at her mouth. Then Father ordered this woman to be taken out of the Skete to the Chernigov Mother of God, to the underground church. There the woman received healing from her illness. Chapter 16, about the cross of Elder Isidore and how little those around him understood him The Elder’s entire life was not an easy cross, but the Elder patiently bore his cross. From this cross-bearing, more than from anything else, one could be convinced that Fr. Isidora has his own, special, supra-worldly world, in which he draws his strength and his strength. Life in God seems to us possible only if various conditions are met; We maintain our balance when we are supported by public respect, when we have wealth and other similar, perishable blessings, like Abba Isaac the Syrian, likened to pus in the saints of our Father. And for Abba Isidore, his faith was a living, self-effective force that never left him. Everything with him was the opposite of ours. A former servant of a manor house, he never mentioned his former owners with a single unkind or even bitter word. Moreover, as long as the princess was alive, he came to her every year with prosphora and a bundle of bagels on a sponge. He talked about how he was persecuted - so evenly and with such a cheerful grin, as if it was not about him at all. And they persecuted him always and everywhere. He had to leave Old Athos because there was no money. In the Paraclete Hermitage, he gathered children from neighboring villages, gave them tea, taught them prayers and gave them a few kopecks from his beggarly funds. This is what the authorities did not like, and about Fr. They began to tell Isidora that he allegedly got drunk and took women to him; finally, they made up a story about him, kicked him out of the Pustynka and transferred him to the Gethsemane Skete. In his life he was constantly persecuted. And for what? - For confessing the brothers who were ready to fall into despair because of the severity of the confessor; for accepting strangers; for giving bread to the poor; for going out without asking to console someone in Posad; for being straightforward with his superiors. As much as the younger brothers loved him, the older ones treated him just as carelessly, with a few exceptions. She did not like his independence and directness and seemed unbearable, despite the great humility of the Elder; the lack of ostentatious fasting caused disdain for him as a poison and drinker; but what harmed the Elder most of all in the eyes of the brethren, who considered themselves scholars, was his simplicity and “lack of education.” Some even considered him strange, kind of a fool and crazy, and called him an “eccentric” - this is when they spoke condescendingly about him. Fr. was sixty years old. Isidore became a monk - and during this time he did not even receive a legguard. The eighty-year-old Elder lived alone in his hut and had to do everything with his own hands, because he did not have a cell attendant. He was so neglected that during his illness his face was covered with a layer of dirt, and Bishop E., who visited him, picked out lice from his gray hair. Only six days before his death, the Elder received help. Poverty, sickness, neglect, insults, persecution - these are the thorns that overgrown the Elder’s life path. But even in these thorns, he retained such calmness, such joy, such fullness of life, which we do not have and will not acquire under the most favorable conditions. What is the most interesting thing in Batyushka? - There is no doubt that he remained a Christian in every situation. His Christianity was his unchanging element, not connected with the world and its natural and social conditions. Christianity for him was not the orbit of life, but its very essence - not the pattern of life or its decoration, but the very fabric of life. Misunderstood during life, the Elder remains, it seems, misunderstood even after death. Until now, those around him had not yet realized what treasure they had lost. But the light of the Elder shines all the more radiantly in the night of unreason. Chapter 17, which contains meager information from the biography of Elder Isidore, about the place of his birth, about his further life and about the spiritual influences to which the Elder was subjected Now, dear reader, you know what Abba Isidore is like, and therefore you probably want to know how he became what he was. To satisfy your question, I will tell you the little of the Elder’s life story that I know myself. Abba Isidore was born in the village of Lyskovo, Makaryevsky district, Nizhny Novgorod province and was named John in holy baptism. His parents were courtyard peasants of the Georgian princes; They were called Andrey and Paraskeva, and by their last name they were Kozins. John later called his last name in two ways: either Gruzinsky, or Kozin, but usually Gruzinsky. The exact year of John's birth is unknown. According to Elder Abraham of Skete, John was born in the same year in which the Venerable Seraphim, the Wonderworker of Sarov, reposed. And John himself, shortly before his death, repeatedly spoke about the conversation with his mother on the day of the repose of St. Seraphim that was etched in his memory. “A wonderful fragrance spread,” he said. I asked my mother what it was from, and my mother told me: Elder Seraphim died.” After 2-3 days, news came of Seraphim’s death. If we rely on the first message, then the year of John’s birth should be considered 1833. And if we accept the second message, then we must think that John was already quite a number of years old in 1833, since only he could remember the event of this year; then, as John himself believed, it will be necessary to take 1814 as the year of birth. One way or another, a ray from the radiance of St. Seraphim entered John’s life. While still carrying John in her bosom, his mother went to Sarov to see Elder Seraphim; The saint called her out from a huge crowd of people, bowed to her in front of everyone right down to the ground and predicted that from her would come a great ascetic and that his name would be Isidore. And subsequently, in Skete, Abba Isidore had a very close relationship with one of the disciples of Elder Seraphim. Very little is known about John’s childhood, adolescence and youth - what he himself told. This, first of all, includes his participation in the home theater of the Georgian princes. He played “Filka” and other funny plays; It seems that John’s love for poetry and art arose at this time. But despite the taste for such worldly amusements, the young man did not forget his soul. Even then he desired monastic feat. “My father and mother used to go about family affairs at night,” he said shortly before his death, “and I would turn to the wall, look at the picture of the saints Zosima and Savvaty, and I would see green meadows and monasteries.” From one sign these youthful thoughts turned into a firm decision. One day the young man John was praying in the Church of the Intercession in his homeland. Lightning in the form of a full moon, as the Elder himself later described, shining brightly, passed along the iconostasis and burst with thunder. No accidents happened to people, only the iconostasis turned black. This sign (the old-timers remember it) had an effect on John; as one of the brethren put it: “Lightning struck, and it warmed him up.” “My thought went to Athos,” said the Elder himself. However, this idea could not be realized then, and John entered the Gethsemane Skete, established by Metropolitan Philaret. Here he again met with his fellow villager, Viceroy Anthony, who also came from the village of Lyskova and was the illegitimate son of Prince Gruzinsky. By the way, it should be mentioned that, judging by some data, namely: by the surname “Gruzinsky”, which John bore and called himself, by the thin build of his body, and finally, by his somewhat oriental nose and face, one can suspect the complex origin of John. It is not incredible that he was also of a princely family. Viceroy Anthony took John to his cell attendant. Then John was still a beardless and mustacheless young man. He served Fr. To the viceroy, half-written, he wrote a cave synodikon about health and repose, read it in the church and sang in the choir in a light bass voice. Here he met Fr. Abraham, who later attended his cell in his place with Fr. Antonia. U o. He saw the governor more than once, Metropolitan Philaret of Moscow, and many other remarkable figures of that time. At first, Viceroy Anthony was very friendly with brother John; Perhaps this friendship was also facilitated by family ties. But later their friendship cooled. The governor approached Metropolitan Philaret and devoted his mind to ambitious thoughts. And Brother John spoke about. There was too much truth for the governor and, most importantly, it reminded him of the past - of the time when Anthony was a serf paramedic for Prince Gruzinsky. The governor began to feel burdened by his fellow countryman and said: “He is too heavy for me.” That time when Fr. Isidore believed the beginning of his feat was quite special in the history of Skete. The relationship with the Sarov Wonderworker was still vivid in memory. A whole host of true monks shone to the world from the depths of the forests where the Skete now stands; many great people from the laity came to their light to warm their souls, gain strength and vigor. There was no brick fence then; they lived apart and each carried out a special feat. Some of the ascetics descended into the bowels of the earth, and here they dug up an entire monastery with a church and even a well. Here, at the ringing of an underground bell, underground monks with candles came out of their cramped grave cells, in which one could barely lie down, and gathered through narrow damp underground passages for night prayer. They read psalms and sang alleluia, and then went to their cells. It was stuffy in the underground church, so wooden pipes were laid out from it. Sometimes at night I listened to the singing of the monks and Fr. Anthony. From time to time, Metropolitan Philaret also lived in the Skete. In 1860, Brother John was tonsured into the mantle at the same time as Fr. Herman, now abbot of the Zosimova Hermitage, which is beyond the Paraclete. Both of them, i.e. John (in the monasticism of Isidore) and Herman, were received from the Holy Gospel by the Elder of the skete hieroschemamonk Alexander, whose spiritual son a little later Barnabas (who died in 1906) became. It is a noteworthy coincidence that this trinity of spiritual Elders - Isidore, Herman and Barnabas - turns out to be connected with each other by bonds of spiritual brotherhood, and Fr. Isidore, as spiritually born from the Elder Alexander before others, was revered by them as the eldest and therefore, after the death of Fr. Alexandra, took the place of their spiritual father for his orphaned younger brothers. At this time, the Paraclete Desert did not yet exist. When it was erected for lovers of the strictest solitude, Fr. moved there. Isidore. Here he was promoted to hieromonk. In 1863 he was ordained a hierodeacon, and in 1865 a hieromonk. He never rose above this; out of his humility, he refused the schema that was offered to him in his old age. There was a time when Fr. Isidore was going to America to preach together with Bishop John. The governor even sewed him a new fur coat for his long journey; but for some reason this trip did not take place, and the fur coat left for America without its owner. About 5 years after his entry into the Paraclete, Fr. Isidore fulfills his long-standing desire - to move to Old Athos. He stayed in this radical hotbed of monasticism for one year. That year, the Athonite elders set out to one day erect the Cross at the very top of the glorious Mount Athos: Fr. Isidore. But, for lack of funds to purchase a cell for himself, Fr. Isidore soon had to leave the monastic state and return to his homeland. Here he again settles in the Paraclete, but not for long, for he suffers persecution, slander and exile. Then he moves to Skete, where he lives forever until his blessed death. Of the events of this time, only the appointment of Fr. Isidora was the confessor for all hieromonks, which followed the death of Fr. Barnabas, in 1906. Chapter 18, which tells of the blessed death of Abba Isidore This is how the quiet life of Abba Isidore passed. And his death was unprecedentedly quiet. One might even think that he did not die, but simply gradually fell asleep; his breathing became weaker and finally disappeared completely: he breathed, and with his breath his life flew away. Until his very last minute, he did not lose his usual cheerfulness and clear consciousness, remaining sober on his deathbed. Even his memory of faces, names, excerpts from spiritual poems, and various private circumstances of various people did not weaken in him. His illness - hemorrhoids, diarrhea and bleeding - was painful, but he never complained to anyone. When they asked him about his health, he, with a constant smile, answered: “Nothing, thank God, nothing, everything is fine.” His body was completely withered, his hands melted away and became like whips covered with leather. The disease caused severe destruction in the body. His face, usually quite plump, was very thin and haggard, his cheeks were sunken, his nose became pointed. In the end, the Elder did not even have the strength to smile. Only the eyes - the clear eyes of the bright Father - shone like bright stars - with a radiant, amazing light. While Ava’s exhausted body lay still in this world, his eyes seemed to shine from there. Whoever is worthy to see them knows that there is a blessed death. The Elder’s illness began long ago; but from Holy Week of 1907 it became more noticeable, and from Dormition Day of 1907 the bleeding became so intensified that it forced the Elder to stop attending services, except to receive the Holy Mysteries. From the Filippovsky Post he took to bed completely, and even then it was possible to foresee the fatal outcome of the disease. Abba ate almost nothing and that made him even weaker. During the last week of his life, he only took a little cold water - from a teaspoon. In the remaining days before his death, he taught those who came to him even more zealously and persistently, repeating his favorite thoughts. Most often he repeated the prayer already known to the reader about the five plagues of the Savior. Constantly reminding about the poor, he said: “The haves must give to the have-nots.” He said: “The righteous will punish the sinner with mercy” and “He who is merciful lends to God, and God will pay everything back.” He asked the leaders to be sympathetic to the poor and sick, to the spiritual and to the worldly. He spoke about mercy: “Mercy is praised in judgment.” He continued to be interested in church affairs; He insisted on uniting with the Old Catholics, said not to be proud of who is first, and again pointed out that the Mother of God would sit as President at the council. I said goodbye to my brethren, my spiritual children. He gave instructions to each: to help one or another of those under his care; He asked not to forget the poor, distributed his meager property, and blessed them. He gave instructions to one: to exchange the ruble for small change and distribute it to the poor. It was clear that this farewell to the world was very tiring for him, his body already half dead, but he did not want to stop his last activity. When, three days before his death, Bishop E., his spiritual son, came to him and asked if he was afraid of death, Father answered with a smile: “No, I’m not afraid, why? Thank God - nothing, thank God - nothing,” and made the most careful orders, as if taking care not to miss even a small thing from his misery. He offered the bishop to choose whatever he liked: he gave him his staff and half-mantle. Although he no longer moved, he himself suggested to him: “Come on, I’ll confess you”; then, despite excuses, he confessed and, with the words: “I’m leaving,” handed him his confession book, torn and oily from long use. Even on his deathbed, the Elder remembered that he should render the last service to his spiritual son. He remembered and said to the cell attendant: “I have six potatoes there. Give them to the poor." He made the same order about the remaining jam and even took care to identify a slice of bread. O. The Elder says to Israel: “I would like to be laid in my epitrachelion, but I regret it: it’s too good. You ask the sacristan for another epitrachelion, a worse one, to put on me, and take this one to the Right Reverend (i.e., Bishop Evdokim).” And the epitrachelion, which Fr. regretted for himself. Isidore was old, old, shabby and shiny. Fr. confessed with her all his life. Isidore did not part with her all his life, but before his death he parted with her. This is the highest sacrifice of love, for we cannot even imagine what the epitrachelion is for the Elder. Two days before his death, on February 2, at 4 am, Fr. Isidore wanted to partake of the Holy Mysteries. After early mass, at about 6 am they came to him with the Holy Gifts and communed him. “Father, you are dying!” “That’s enough, that’s complete,” he objects affectionately, “have you thought about what you’re saying? God has no dead - everyone is alive. He who believes in Me will not die... I do not die... God is not the dead, but the living.” The next day, at 2 o’clock, two students from the Theological Academy came to him and brought him 10 rubles. Father Isidore ordered the cell attendant, Brother Ivan, to give him a box, put money in it and instructed him to distribute it to the poor. After lying down for a while, he asked the cell attendant: “Go, brother, for a confessor.” The confessor came at 7 pm, looked at the patient and said: “You are bad, breadwinner-father.” “It’s very difficult for me, so I want to join. If I spend the night, you come on my Angel Day” (February 4th is his Angel Day, and he remembered this). At about 8 o'clock the confessor left. Brother Ivan, who was with Father, began to read the Lives of the Holy Fathers and the Gospel of Fr. Isidora. Looking at Father, Brother Ivan noticed that he was fiddling with his fingers and said: “Let me trim your nails!” Then the cell attendant again began to read the Holy Gospel, but Father said to him: When the cell attendant handed him the cross, Fr. Isidore protected himself with this cross and blessed the one who gave it, and then handed the cross back to the cell attendant. Again Brother Ivan read the Holy Gospel somewhat and saw that Fr. Isidore became bad. Then the cell attendant asked the Elder for forgiveness and prayers, and then read out the Holy Gospel. But oh. Isidore interrupted him: “Brother Ivan,” he said, “put out the fire.” But the cell attendant did not fulfill this request and only asked: O. Isidore began to breathe quickly and again said: “Put out the fire.” Then Brother Ivan blew out one lamp, and he himself went out into the hallway, because earlier Fr. Isidore told him: “Don’t look at my death: the great Anthony was dying - he sent his disciple for water, and he himself died. The Monk Seraphim was finished - he locked his cell, and he himself died. So they are all saints: no one saw their death. And you go, read a book or go to bed.” While still healthy, Abba Isidore used to tell his disciples that it was even a sin to watch a person die, and referred to St. Paul of Thebes and many other saints. The Elder’s demand to extinguish the fires was not a random whim. No, it was a long-held and matured conviction that when you die, you need to fully concentrate, completely free yourself from everything worldly, gather within yourself and be alone with God. What the Dying Man did in these last minutes, what he felt and thought in silence and inner peace, not disturbed even by the familiar sight of a wretched cell and the humble ray of a lamp - this is not only impossible for us to know, but even if we did know, we would still not be able to comprehend it with our minds. Ava's soul could do things that are beyond our understanding. But then, brother reader, it is noteworthy that with his great humility, at the moment of death, face to face with God, Fr. Isidore compared himself with the ascetics filled with the Spirit and, moreover, in such expressions as if this comparison were commonplace. In another it would be self-proclaiming and unbearable impudence. But in the mouth of Fr. Isidora’s great boldness appeared so natural that it even went unnoticed. This dying testimony given by Father about himself has great value for us, for who could appreciate the spirit-bearer and understand him better than he himself. So, brother Ivan put out the fire and went out. Father was breathing quickly. Brother Ivan lay down on the floor in the hallway, dressed, and, listening to the breathing of the Dying Man, dozed off. It was half past ten. Recovering from the drowsiness that had come over him, he suddenly jumped to his feet and began to listen. It was quiet in the cell. He approached Father. The Elder's mouth was open. Brother Ivan felt the body; the body was still warm. He realized that the Elder’s soul had gone to God. It was then 11 o'clock in the evening. Brother Ivan ran to wake up the hieromonk Fr. Israel. This last one came and served a memorial service. So, at 11 o’clock at night on February 3, 1908, on the eve of the day of his Angel, the great Elder of the Gethsemane Skete died. He was most likely about 84 years old. Chapter 19, informing the inquisitive reader about the honest burial of Elder Isidore, as well as what his face was like after the blissful peace from life in this world and what his grave was like The news of the death of Abba Isidore spread throughout Sergievsky Posad the next day, and then reached Moscow. On February 5, at 8 a.m., the Elder’s extensive spiritual family gathered for a final farewell in the monastery church of Philaret the Merciful. There was Bishop E., and some from the Moscow hierarchy, the monastery brethren, some students of the Theological Academy and other laymen; Somehow even several women entered the church, although they do not have access to the Skete. It was solemn, but also sad, because everyone painfully felt that such help had left here, such as would never be seen again in life. Here and there they cried bitter tears. The funeral service was performed by the Bishop. When the funeral service for the Elder was performed, the bishop called the people closest to the Deceased to the coffin. The Elder's coffin was surrounded by a tight ring; and then the Bishop slightly lifted the black air from Father’s face. The elder lay as if alive - haggard, with a diminished face, but without the slightest sign of decay. It was as if the hand of death had never touched him. A light smile illuminated the closed lips; the chest seemed to still be breathing. A deep peace and silence wafted from this coffin - not the cold of the grave, but the fragrant coolness of a clear evening. Like the setting sun over the white mature fields, the Old Man was in his grave. It was not the majestic silence of the dead man and not the solemn aloofness of the deceased that could be seen here, but the bliss of peace in God: Father Isidore was here, sleeping, not at all scary, not at all creepy - quiet, very quiet, meek, very meek. With his gaze, during his life, he always gave consolation and peace. But Father Isidore has never been like this. In a hood pulled low over his forehead, with his head slightly tilted to the left, clear and bright (but not deathly pale, not waxen), he lay inexpressibly good - so you wanted to ask him for a blessing and tears themselves fell - no longer from melancholy and bitterness, but from pure tenderness and delight at the beauty that had conquered death. This was the first coffin we saw that wasn't creepy. And in it lay “flesh-bearing spiritual beauty,” if the reader allows us to remember the words of St. Gregory of Nyssa, “sabbath-keeping beauty 28.” When the funeral service ended and all those present said goodbye to the Elder, Bishop E. said a funeral oration over this unpainted pine coffin, over this treasure that went to the Gethsemane Skete. He briefly told what the reader already knows about Elder Isidore, and then began to determine the significance of the late Elder for the history of monasticism. The Bishop pointed out that this Elder was the last flower of the ancient Thebaid, the last representative of monasticism. “We,” the Bishop said approximately, “now have no monasticism; it still needs to be created. Father Isidore was the herald of this future monasticism, which had already begun in distant Thebaid. Amen". They poured out some oil. The coffin was quickly nailed down. There were sobs from some of the old people - the deceased's associates. And they carried Father to his last home, passing his wooden house along the way and serving a memorial service here. It was cold and snowing. For a short time the sky went wild, and then the weather began to storm again. But, despite the cold wind, no one wanted to leave this yellow mound, built near the chapel in the brotherly cemetery. Winter has passed. Spring has passed - spring without Father Isidore. By summer, his grave was cleaned up, covered with turf, flowers were planted, a wooden white cross with black inscriptions and an unquenchable ruby ​​lamp were placed. This is the cross on the priceless grave. On the front side of the cross it is written: “The body of R.B. Hieromonk is buried under this cross. Isidora. Fast. to Skete in 1852, deceased. in 1908 on February 4th. His life was...” (the number was deliberately erased because it was written incorrectly). Cheap icons hang here: St. Seraphim, St. Theodora, Mother of God of Czestochowa, a copper crucifix and others - all voluntary offerings from unknown worshipers of the gracious Elder. On the back of the cross it is written: “Lord, receive my spirit in peace.” A glass lantern made of tin, painted green, hangs on the cross. A lamp burns in it, just as unquenchably as Elder Isidore burned with an unquenchable lamp before the Lord Jesus Christ. Chapter 20, the last one, which the reader, due to lack of time, may not look through, because from it he will not receive new information about Elder Isidore One day a certain brother asked Saint Niphon of Constantinople 29: “As the Saints have now multiplied throughout the whole world, will it be the same at the end of this age?” To such a question, the Blessed One answered him: “My son, until the very end of this age, the Prophets of the Lord God, as well as the servants of Satan, will not become scarce. However, in the last time, those who will truly work for God will safely hide themselves from people and will not perform signs and wonders among them, as at the present time, but will follow the path of action, dissolved in humility, and in the Kingdom of Heaven they will find themselves greater than the fathers who were glorified by signs; because then no one will do miracles before human eyes that would inflame people and encourage them to strive with zeal for exploits. Those who occupy the thrones of the priesthood throughout the world will be completely unskillful and will not know the art of virtue. The same will be the leaders of the monastics, for everyone will be overthrown by gluttony and vanity and will serve as a temptation for people rather than as a model. Therefore virtue will be even more neglected; the love of money will then reign, and woe to the monks rich in gold, for such will be a reproach to the Lord God and will not see the face of the Living God... Therefore, my son, as I said before, many, being possessed by ignorance, will fall into the abyss, being mistaken in the breadth of the wide and spacious path.” This prophecy was given by the Constantinople Saint. And so, remembering Father Isidore, you involuntarily repeat to yourself the ancient prophecy: “In the last times, the saints will safely hide themselves from people.” It rises even more powerfully in the soul when you think about the words of Abba Isidore that the last times are coming and that soon there will be such a persecution from which Christians will again need to hide in the depths of the earth. After all, Father Isidore, with his God-wise simplicity, managed to hide himself not only from the world, but even from his closest brothers and fellow monks. Father Isidore didn’t have anything remarkable, but that’s what’s remarkable, that there was nothing remarkable. He was truly the bearer of the Spirit of God. This is why the remarkable of Abba Isidore was and continues to be elusive to our words, intangible to our minds. Whole and united in itself, Abba becomes completely contradictory when we try to express him in words, to say: here, he is such and such. Yes, he is a faster; but he is also a fast breaker. Yes, he is humble, but he is also independent. Yes, he is detached from the world; but he loves all creatures like no one else. Yes, he is the one who lives in God; but he is the one who reads newspapers and writes poems. Yes, he is meek; but he is also strict. In a word, for reason it is one complete contradiction. But for a purified mind, he is one like no one else. Spiritual unity appears as a rational contradiction. He was in the world - and not of the world. Didn't neglect anything; and always remained in a mountainous place. It was spiritual, spirit-bearing, and from it one could understand what Christian spirituality is, what is Christian “not of the world.” It is not for nothing that the revered and experienced Elder of the Gethsemane Skete, Fr. Barnabas had him as his spiritual father and even called him “the second Seraphim,” and Elder Abraham, who labored in the “caves” and has been living in the Skete for 55 years, speaks of Fr. Isidora that he “generally showed the meekness of a dove.” “I have never met anyone like this Elder at this time,” is the confession of many of the brethren. Much more could be said about Abba Isidore of Georgia, but the long narrative has probably long since exhausted your patience, indulgent and meek reader. Forgive me, the unworthy collector of this Legend, for the fact that, due to my poor inability, the fragrant image of the Elder was never captured in these writings. Having praised the Lord God for the wonderful sign given to us in Elder Isidore, I lay down my pen with fraternal gratitude to you, as some faithful companion of this joint journey through the spiritual meadow, in the clean air, blessed with sublime aromas. May a quiet peace, similar to that which unremittingly and inexhaustibly glowed in Elder Isidore, descend into your soul, reader, and may the unfading light of joy shine in you. Amen. The end of the Tale of Father Isidore. Additions: leaflets distributed by Father Isidore Prayer composed by Gogol to the Most Holy Theotokos; Fr. loved to read this prayer. Isidore. It is not included in the Complete Works of N.V. Gogol, but from the words of Fr. Isidora was published in the Russian Archive, 1899, book. 8, A. A. Tretyakov and in “Moskovskie Vedomosti”, 1909, No. 65, K-im. Father Isidore knew her from his brother, the valet in the house of Count. A. P. and A. G. Tolstykh (Moscow, Nikitsky Boulevard, now the Katkov house), where he lived in recent years and where Gogol died “No one flows to You, shame comes from You, Most Pure Virgin Mary, but asks for grace and accepts the gift of useful petition.” To You, O Most Holy Mother! I dare to raise my voice, Hear me in this sorrowful hour, Please accept my warmest prayers, Deliver my spirit from troubles and evils, Shed tenderness into my heart, Guide me on the path of salvation. May I be alien to my own will, I am ready to endure everything for God. Be my shelter in my bitter fate - You are the refuge of all the unfortunate, Prayer book for us all! Let's hear God's 30th voice of judgment, When time closes eternity, The sound of the trumpet will raise the dead, And the book of conscience is all a burden Wall You are faithful and a fence! I pray to You with all my soul: The verses are “blessed” in the 5th tone. They are sung in the Gethsemane Skete on August 15th - on the Dormition of the Blessed Virgin Mary. They were often repeated by Fr. Isidore and invited his disciples to sing them alone and together “Blessed Lady, enlighten me with the light of Your Son.” The council of angels was surprised, in vain you were imputed to the dead, but betrayed your soul into the hand of God, and ascended with God, Immaculate, with divine glory into heaven. How do you dissolve joy with tears, preachers of God; the twin has come, we admonish from above, inviting the apostle: you see the belt, and understand, the Virgin is risen from the grave. The disciple, who did not believe in the Lady, in the resurrection of Thy Son, now assures others of Thy uprising, saying: weeping is the time of the end, do not weep, but cry out the resurrection of the Virgin. To the God-bearing, Virgin, disciples gathered at Your tomb and weeping, Thomas appeared and spoke, saying: Why do you think with the living living things? He is risen again, like the mother of God. “Glory to the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.” Let us worship the Father, and His Sons, and the Holy Spirit, the Holy Trinity, in One Being, calling from the seraphim: Holy, Holy, Holy, art thou, Lord. “And now and ever, and unto ages of ages. Amen". Having given birth to the life-giver, you passed on to an ageless life: joy, Virgin, in sorrow you gave a place as a disciple, the Virgin who rose from the grave for three days, like the Lord. “Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia, thank you God.” Three times. The power of the Cross of the Lord is glorious. In heaven, in hell, on earth. Through this, man ascended to God; He was given power over death. The cross spills on the ground; The Life-Giver crucified on it The great former Sufferer Himself, He takes the suffering under shelter. Help comes from the cross His power is observed in us The ability to love one's neighbor. With the cross we conquer passions And we create peace in our souls; We not only save their souls For eternal and holy life, From the disasters of this earthly life. With the cross we break the nets, And we turn the plan into dust. Walk, brother, with the power of the cross, And in life bright and dull Who always walks with the power of the cross And he runs to her with faith, He will soon rise to holiness He is not afraid of the shadow of death The soul in him strives for the Lord, We will all love the Lord's cross, Let us cling to him with hope; We will always be saved by Him, We will find our bliss in it. Tell them as often as possible, That the cross is the great gift of Christ! That he is an instrument of salvation, And grace is hidden in it, What are the secrets of wonderful redemption We wouldn't be able to see without him. They will learn from you first, How to honor the cross of the Lord, Let them kiss every day Life-giving cross of Christ And with a tender heart they comprehend, How he is always ready to save. Let them grow with this custom For the benefit of the entire Russian land And God's mercy is attracted To yourself and your entire family. They will become stronger in life’s labors; Evil plots will not harm them; They will be given success in business. And will flourish from the power of the godmother All our Orthodox people Will become famous from generation to generation. And the Lord Himself will love him, And through him the whole world will excite And he will call on the strength of the godmother. To the Lord Jesus, Appeal in the sorrow and temptation of monastics To You, O God, I cry, Do not leave me, O Good One, You kindle the darkness of temptations And enlighten me the way to You, You are the fallen thoughts Sunday Send, O Master, Thy light to me. Estates, house - I despised everything, The love of my sisters and brothers And everything that is in the passionate world has matured. And in these places I settled down, So that my mind can see the heavens. But how will I seek You, Master, I, a sinner, took it upon myself. They told me to go on the road with the cross, And I went on the road voluntarily, And I thought that was enough And I lost my way on the way; It is difficult for me to follow the Creator. I tore my clothes in the desert, And I fell among the robbers in it, Oh God is merciful and strong, Present yourself at this hour of my soul! You see, God, there is no strength, May Your light enlighten my path. I will see, my Creator, You, I will forget the great journey, That everyone met me along the way And all the labors have been taken up by me, I have not passed, my Redeemer, You said that “My yoke is good I believe, my God, and I know To me, God, with Your help I can, Lord, go. My path to You, my Creator, But I believe, my God, and I know He met the elder of the Gethsemane monastery of the Trinity-Sergius Lavra, Hieromonk Isidore Florensky, in 1904. The first characteristic of Fr. We meet Isidore in Florensky’s letter to his mother dated November 8, 1904: “I went to visit my elder Isidore. I went to him with bewilderment, but returned easily and joyfully, with strength. He is a very simple man, one of the former serfs of Count Tolstoy (not a writer), but he understands many things much better than learned theologians, so you are happy to listen to the thoughts that are most dear to me from him - thoughts that many do not understand. ...Father Isidore is all white, affectionate and joyful - as if he is glowing... I was especially fascinated by his childishness. For example, I wrote to Alexander III in pencil a long message that the Church is One and Holy, that it pains us to see how our Mother is divided because of “bureaucracy”, because of one letter - this is about the fact that we, Orthodox, are Catholics, and supporters of the Western Church are Catholics...” Elder Isidore died on February 4, 1908, and throughout Florensky’s studies at the MDA he mentored him in life. The significance of Elder Isidore in the life of Florensky is so great that later researchers noted: “The combination of the guidance of two elders,” writes Abbot Andronik, “the learned theologian saint (Bishop Anthony) and the simple hieromonk (Abba Isidore) - gave to the work of P. A. Florensky that characteristic spiritual aroma by which the lines of his books are easily recognized. In his life's journey, these two confessors constituted for him the only fertile ground, outside of which he, with exceptional talents, could not stand. ...With the death of Father Isidore, the period of spiritual feeding of P. A. Florensky (Hegumen Andronik (Trubachev). Pavel Florensky - student of the Moscow Theological Academy (manuscript)) disappeared irrevocably. First published in Christian magazine. 1908 (No. 10–11) and 1909 (No. 1, 5). Published as a separate edition in 1909 by the publishing house of the Holy Trinity Sergius Lavra. Published from the 1908 edition. Notes compiled by S. L. Kravets. This refers to the men's hermitage of St. Paraclete, assigned to the Trinity-Sergius Lavra and located 8 miles from the Lavra. Our Reverend Father John, abbot of Mount Sinai, Ladder, in Russian translation, 75, 60 (Sergiev Posad, 1908. P. 122). A huge black rock located in the coastal (Red Sea) part of the Thebaid Desert, the cradle of monasticism. See: Lives of the Saints, in Russian, set out according to the guidance of the Chetyih-Mineas of St. Demetrius of Rostov. Book 1. September. M., 1903. pp. 363–364. It was not possible to establish that these lines belonged to N. Gogol. Words from the seventh prayer to the Most Holy Theotokos (Morning Prayers). Archimandrite Anthony, in the world Medvedev Andrei Gavrilovich (1792–1877), in 1831 he was appointed by Metropolitan Philaret of Moscow to the vicar of the Trinity-Sergius Lavra; stayed in this post for 46 years. Filaret, Metropolitan of Moscow, in the world Drozdov Vasily Mikhailovich (1783–1867), became metropolitan in 1821. This refers to Metropolitan Sergius, in the world Lyapidevsky Nikolai Yakovlevich (1820–1898), Metropolitan of Moscow since 1893. Lives of the saints, in Russian, set out according to the guidance of the Chetyih-Menya of St. Demetrius of Rostov. Book 9. May. M., 1908. P. 256. In Pustynka, near the Elder’s cell, in the garden, there was a round table and around it were chairs made by the Elder from wooden stumps and twigs. That is, during the revolutionary movement. Metropolitan Macarius (Bulgakov) (1816–1882), Metropolitan of Moscow from 1879; his work “Orthodox Dogmatic Theology” in 5 books. first published 1849–1853. See: Letters from Metropolitan Philaret of Moscow to the Abbot of the Holy Trinity Lavra of St. Sergius, Archimandrite Anthony. In 4 parts. M., 1878–1885. Famous words of Rev. Seraphim of Sarov, included in all his lives. See, for example, The Life of St. Seraphim of Sarov (Modern edition) // Literary studies. 1990. Book. 5. P. 140. Teachings of Rev. Seraphim about the acquisition of the Holy Spirit is contained in his conversation with N. A. Motovilov about the purpose of Christian life. Georgy the Recluse (in the world - Georgy Mashurin) (1789–1863) - an ascetic of piety, labored in the Zadonsk Mother of God Monastery. This and other prayers will be placed below in the Appendices. Spiritual Alphabet//Works of St. Demetrius of Rostov. Part 1. Ed. 3. M., 1857. The source could not be determined. This refers to Saint Niphon (c. 1370–1460), Patriarch of Constantinople, expelled from the pulpit for denunciations and hiding under the mantle of a simple monk on Mount Athos.