Цена святости

Even during the life of Holy Vladika John, the righteous Bishop Savva of Edmonton collected information about the great ascetic, so amazing for our time, who had departed from ancient genuine Christianity beyond recognition, which is why Vladyka John, who sought to imitate the ancient ascetics, seemed strange. But it was our almost new pagan reality of the fashionable world that became strange and alien, and not Vladika John. Bishop Savva tried to capture this parallel, but alas, he did not have time. He was finished off by the church internecine enmity of envious people who considered St. John backward and unsuitable for our time. Standing Ep. Savva, according to our observation, even cost him his life. His heart could not stand it, and he died, handing over his archive to the Brotherhood of St. Herman, who eventually published it in the form of two volumes of the Chronicle of the Veneration of Blessed John. Subsequently, in Russia, freed from communism, the brotherhood published one volume of more than 900 pages - “Blessed St. John the Wonderworker,” which has already undergone several editions both in Russia and in different countries, in different languages. Of course, all for the glory of God and the good memory of the holy man. But, unfortunately, not everything published about him is of equal value. There is also something that, although not intentionally, distorts his true appearance due to “jealousy beyond reason.” The word printed is not accuracy, the so-called “pious fiction.” If we agree with all this, then the original will be distorted, and those who accuse believers will be right, while the main motto of the holy hagiographer Demetrius of Rostov is: “Let me not lie against a saint.” To avoid this, I would like to describe my personal direct contact with the saint, which took place during the last years of his life in San Francisco. It cannot be said that Father Seraphim and I were his disciples or even that St. John was our confessor. But for us he was not only the main authority, the highest image of the archpastor, the inaccessible ideal of a saint of universal significance, as if emerging from the holy antiquity of Orthodoxy, but also clearly persecuted by small, short-sighted, arrogant people who did not see that before them stood a living representative of the departed Holy Rus'. Moreover, not silent like a ghost, or like just a two-dimensional icon, against the backdrop of a motley picture of the historical Byzantine epic, but a living figure, driven by pastoral energy, putting into practice what we are used to only reading about in books, but did not expect that this constant worker of prayer can speak authoritatively, in different languages, be in different countries, like at home, and demand, admonish like a native, comfort, laugh, cry and love compassionately. Alive, inspiring with church antiquity and always accessible to everyone, that’s how he was. I was shy in front of him and filled with fear and awe. Father Seraphim admired and rejoiced that such a miracle man turned out to be on his native American soil, and that he sets the tone for his young contemporaries how to understand Orthodoxy and live by it, being united with both the holy past, patristic wisdom, and with eternity. Outwardly, he was not like others, but when communicating, he instantly became more accessible, more understandable, more like one of his own. And this made us happy, because... we felt a supportive understanding, unanimity, although we understood that we were just hatched chicks and could barely stand on our feet, and that he was pushing us in spirit into his amazingly interesting world of saints, divine services and the reviving history of the successor Holy Church. Bringing this modest volume to the attention of readers, as an insignificant drop of information about the holy man of our time, we ask the readers of St. prayers for the rising young generations of Orthodox bearers of our holy heritage, our heritage - “suffering Orthodoxy”, in the words of St. Gregory the Theologian, to whom our Holy Master was, according to the remark of the historian N.D. Talberg, similar. But with the difference that Vladyka John did not have even a minute of that external peace, like St. Gregory, when he could retire and walk in the lap of beautiful nature, and, plunging into silence, distant from the noise of the world, have a “conversation with his own heart.” But our Theologian conducted such a conversation with God at night, secluded in the silence of his wretched cell. There, while praying for his flock and his orphans, he reflected on God and His ways, especially in connection with the Russian people. How to protect him from the viscous paths of worldly temptations. This side of his works is well expressed in his writings, which have not yet been truly collected and researched, which we will present to the young scientific world of the future Rus'. In the meantime, let’s remember the past... May the reader forgive us for the clumsiness of presenting the long-ago days of my youth and cover us with his blissful condescension, remembering that all the events described on these pages were experienced as if in one breath. From the moment a little stranger appeared from the other end of the world, and before his eyes grew into a great representative of ancient Byzantine Rus', full of strength and glory, power and enthusiastic awe, putting the shy, insecure author on a bold path that brought abundant fruit in the field of Christ among heterodox and godless America. Before I entered the seminary, “John Maksimovich” was known to me only as “John of Shanghai.” I was not part of the circle of those who knew him, and at that time I was not even aware that he no longer lived in Shanghai. At that time, grief associated with the disease came to our family; I knew that this same John from Shanghai helps and heals, but I had no idea how to find or even contact him. At that time I didn’t even know what a bishop was or that he was one. Having finally received his address, I wrote to him asking him to pray for us, but received no response to either of the two letters. It was only when I was already studying at the seminary that I was lucky enough to meet him in person. This event occurred thanks to the assistance of my true benefactor, Father Vladimir, under the following circumstances. This happened in November 1959. We seminarians were preparing for the name day and birthday of Fr. John of Kronstadt. The canonization of this righteous man was postponed, although all preparations for it were ready back in 1952, and everyone was expecting that at any moment - to everyone's joy - his solemn glorification would take place. At that time, I used to go to Father Vladimir every morning for a blessing for the coming day. It was a cool morning, and right before breakfast I ran to his office. I knocked energetically on the door, and Father Vladimir quickly opened it, pressing his finger to his lips, and announced that Archbishop John of Shanghai had arrived from Europe last night. He closed the door behind me, took a deep breath, and told me something that left me in a state of awe. Last night - it was already quite late - from the window of his cell, located on the fourth floor directly opposite the church, Father Vladimir saw a car drive up, from which appeared the familiar, short, slightly hunched silhouette of Archbishop John, holding on his chest the icon of the Kursk-Root Mother of God. First, he, accompanied by several of our fathers, entered the church. The street was covered with a thin layer of snow, but Father Vladimir clearly saw that Archbishop John was wearing only sandals; and in strong gusts of wind (the weather in upstate New York is cold in November), his bare legs were visible. Since the day of his monastic tonsure, he had not worn trousers or socks, despite the cold weather. Since it was late, Father Vladimir assumed that everyone was already asleep and would greet the dear guest in the morning. With a feeling of gratitude addressed to God, he turned to the icon in the corner of his cell and continued to pray. He could not sleep from excitement when suddenly, in the silence of the night, he heard someone’s leisurely steps on the lower floor, stopping every five steps, and then continuing. He heard the movement move onto the stairs, fortunately its cement steps echoed quite loudly. And then steps came from the fourth floor and began to approach his door. He knew that these were the steps of Archbishop John, who stopped in front of each monastic cell to pray and bless, to bless its occupant with the holy icon. Everyone had been asleep for a long time. But Father Vladimir’s heart began to beat when the heavy steps of the holy hierarch slowly approached his cell and stopped in front of the door. Father Vladimir, holding his breath, stood nearby at the closed door and clearly felt the care and love of the hierarch for each individual member of the monastery and seminary. At that moment, when the steps stopped just a foot from his door, Father Vladimir prayed for all those who needed prayer. Then the footsteps resumed, stopping near each monastic cell and gradually moving away, until finally they descended to the lower floors and became silent. Leaning to the window, Father Vladimir could see how the holy Vladyka walked around all the buildings of the monastery in which the monastic brethren lived; a cowshed, a distant barn, a seminary building located across the road, an icon-painting room, a library and others... And then, to his surprise, he again heard footsteps on the stairs; and again Archbishop John slowly walked around the long corridors of the main building, and this continued all night. In the morning, the Archbishop was present at the Liturgy and blessed everyone who came up for his blessing. Having barely finished his story about what he experienced last night, Father Vladimir said that he heard familiar steps and this was my chance. If Vladyka John visits our office now, then I should ask him to pray for my sick sister. He told me that when meeting the Archbishop, I should bow to him, ask for his blessing, give him a piece of paper with the name of the patient and give him a small monetary donation for his orphanage. When I replied that I had no money, Father Vladimir took a couple of dollars from his desk. Suddenly the door behind me swung open, and Father Vladimir joyfully exclaimed: “Holy Master, bless us!” I turned around. In front of me stood a hunched monk of incredibly short stature with disheveled gray hair, wearing a black hood on one side and with a rather stern expression on his face. In fact, his whole appearance was so stern, even fierce, that when he stood right in front of me, still exuding the cold winter air, I began to tremble. I knew that before me stood a saint who had come from another world, a living martyr from suffering Russia. And although I knew very little about his life, about his miracles and ascetic deeds, I felt that something extraordinary was concentrated in this fragile, bent, but energetic mysterious old man. Remembering Father Vladimir’s instructions about how I should address the holy hierarch, I knelt before him, asking for a blessing, and, overcoming fear and confusion, asked to pray for my sister. There was no one next to him, and because of this my trepidation was not so strong when his first words echoed irritated dissatisfaction with the fact that I had fallen on my face before him, that is, as before a mortal man. Without looking at me, he repeated three times that I should stand up and write my sister's name on a piece of paper, and refused the two dollars that I thrust into his hands. I don’t remember what happened next, because I was very scared and even began to stutter. Seeing my confusion and feeling the sweat on my palms, he looked at me and smiled to reassure me that everything was okay. I realized that Father Vladimir’s advice to prostrate was not to his liking. I was overwhelmed with happiness from hearing my sister’s name from his lips three times. He pulled out several notes with prayer requests from his pocket and added a note to them, which Father Vladimir managed to quickly scribble and put in my hand. After that, he asked me a few questions and asked if I would join the other seminarians at tomorrow's service in the church in Utica dedicated to St. John of Kronstadt. After exchanging a few words with Father Vladimir, who handed him our new publications - and after a small argument caused by an attempt to pay for them, and Father Vladimir's assurance that this was a free gift, the Archbishop shuffled out the door. With a feeling of joyful jubilation in my soul at the thought that I had spoken with a saint, I turned to Father Vladimir and asked him to tell me something more about Archbishop John. But I did not hear anything that my dear benefactor, Father Vladimir, said then, because I was deeply impressed by the meeting with a person not from this world. Father Joseph, our regent, took me with other singers and we arrived in Utica quite early and sang the entire Liturgy perfectly, without any errors. My attention, meanwhile, was riveted on the strange-looking figure of Vladika John, who looked even smaller than when I saw him in the office. When they dressed him, I saw that he was extremely thin and bony, and what looked like a large belly was in fact a bag filled with the relics of saints, which he always carried on himself. It contained an icon, wrapped in purple velvet, with the relics of his distant relative St. John Maximovich of Tobolsk (1785). His cassock was bright blue, made from thin, cheap Chinese "poor man's cloth." His outer vestment, the sakkos, also looked peculiar. Although it was a bishop's vestment, it was made of white canvas, on which were embroidered small crosses in purple and orange by the hands of children from his Shanghai orphanage. His miter, instead of being a shiny, spherical, magnificent decoration demonstrating episcopal grandeur and luxury (although in essence it should be an image of a crown of thorns), was a rumpled, slightly loose cap, which rather looked like a large, oddly shaped skufia, with small cheap paper icons sewn onto it on all four sides. His entire robe was larger than his own height, and it seemed as if he was suspended from it. His hair was disheveled, his expression was very angry, his lower lip was hanging down, and his small black eyes were often closed. But the worst thing was his speech. Truly, I could not make out even one phrase from his sermon. But at the prayer service, when he sprinkled St. water, his whole image was transformed - his eyes lit up with some kind of inner light, and it seemed to me that his soul rejoiced with the children, whom he abundantly watered with the newly consecrated agiasma. We returned to the seminary in a state of deep satisfaction, as if we had received some kind of new impetus in our lives. Archbishop John went back to France. I figured that in all likelihood I would never see him again. But immediately after graduating from the seminary, I was, as it were, mysteriously called to serve the Church, when St. John specially called me to California ... Two years later, in the summer of 1961, the day after graduating from the seminary, I set out on a pilgrimage to Alaska on the island of St. Herman to his holy relics, having previously received a blessing from Metropolitan Anastassy, ​​who told me: “God bless you. Go with God and bow down for us before the righteous Apostle Herman, for our old age no longer allows us to go anywhere on such a long journey. Pray for us and tell our Archimandrite Gerasim.” This memorable pilgrimage revealed to me a clearer picture of true spirituality and set me on the path sanctified by Elder Herman for the rest of my life. Before setting off on my journey, I received from Father Vladimir a blessing for the journey with the icon of Saints Sergius and Herman of Valaam, given to him as a blessing from his elder Father Philemon of Valaam. He even blessed me with his rosary. Both the icon and the rosary were placed on the tomb of the relics of Elder Herman. Along the way, I stopped in Seattle, at the home of the parish priest, Fr. Andrei Nakonechny at St. Nicholas Cathedral in the guest room on the second floor (second door on the left). I went to Canada to visit the monastery of Archbishop Joasaph (1955). Wandering across the Canadian prairie and visiting monasteries, I grieved over the loss of the rosary and could not be consoled, since the blessings of Balaam and Elder Herman were on them. Abandoning the hope of finding them, I returned through Seattle to San Francisco, where I was supposed to show de-positives about my trip to Alaska to Archbishop Tikhon, Fr. Nectarius, and then Abbess Ariadne and her sisters. Mother Superior placed an advertisement about my lecture in the newspaper. I had to arrange a screening at her convent, as she intended to gather all the students at the parish school and all the local youth. The day before this event I started to get nervous. Suddenly Mother “expressed hope” that I would not refuse to “share” my lecture with Archbishop John, who had just arrived from France. She also informed me that a special reception would be held on the occasion of my lecture. I was both honored and afraid that I would be speaking in the presence of such an important person as Archbishop John. But she assured me that the Lord is very kind, sensitive and the heart of a child beats in him, and therefore, if I make the performance childlike, I will be successful. I arrived a little earlier than the appointed time and had barely crossed the threshold of the monastery when I received a call from Seattle - it was my friend Georgy Kalfov. He was an altar boy of Archbishop John in Shanghai; when he was fourteen years old, Archbishop John healed him. He had already told me a lot about Archbishop John, who was, according to him, constantly persecuted - which was always difficult for me to comprehend until I experienced the same myself. As I walked up the steps to the church, I heard Mother Superior call out to me, hurrying me to the long-distance telephone, which was in her cell under the church balcony. When I entered the room, I saw Archbishop John sitting on the phone and beckoning me to come closer. He handed me the phone before I could receive his blessing. While the Archbishop was holding the phone, the first thing George said to me was: “Where are your rosary?” I admitted that I had lost them, and that this loss was irreplaceable. At that moment, Archbishop John, still holding the telephone receiver in his hand next to my ear, pulled my rosary from his pocket. George explained that the Archbishop had stayed in my room in Seattle and found the rosary there and was now returning it to me. Seeing my rosary in the hands of Vladyka John, I instinctively reached out to them, but he, allowing me to grab onto them, pulled the find towards himself, as if not wanting to part with them, and thus pulling me towards him. And at the same time he said the following: “Will you come to San Francisco so that we can work together?” I nodded and pulled the rosary towards me, but he, looking straight into my eyes and smiling, pulled them towards him again. Georgy, having heard what was happening, told me in a serious tone into the phone that with this gesture Vladika John was calling me to him. I immediately realized that it was God’s Providence that was drawing me, unworthy of this honor, to come and be where Archbishop John was! Abbess Ariadne, observing all this, confirmed that it was God’s will that my rosary returned to me through Archbishop John. And she was not mistaken, because throughout my subsequent life his blessing accompanied me. My lecture was a success. After I finished, Vladyka John concluded it with his word and left. The nuns, the spiritual daughters of Bishop John in Shanghai, told me many stories about him, and I listened to them and enjoyed sweet pies. Before leaving, the Archbishop insisted that I speak to his former orphans at the St. Tikhon Orphanage on Balboa Street and contacted the head of this orphanage, Maria Alexandrovna Shakhmatova, about the date of my speech. Without delaying the matter, I went there the very next day, and my first visit and acquaintance with this righteous woman left an indelible impression on me for the rest of my life. She became a mother to hundreds of teenagers. She knew how to find the right psychological approach to everyone - a kind of warm connection with young souls. I immediately liked her for her good sense of humor and deep insight into the inner world of youth. During the trip, one of my tasks was to find new candidates for our seminary. During all the stops, I did not hesitate to direct all conversations in this direction. But it was Maria Alexandrovna who first raised this topic; she spoke, and I listened and answered her questions. She was a dynamic person. She lamented that her children were losing God in the soulless worldliness of America. I wanted to learn from her more about Archbishop John, who seemed to me to be my hero in my imagination. But before delving into stories about the Archbishop, she made me promise that I would do everything possible to convince one of her students to enter the seminary. She wanted me to meet him the very next day, which I did. The stories Maria Alexandrovna told me revealed to me the righteousness of the highest order, which Archbishop John personified. In fact, it was her teaching that was for me the starting point for understanding the life of Archbishop John. She witnessed his ascetic activities in Shanghai, almost from the very first moment of his stay there in 1934. She stood almost at the very beginning of the Archbishop John Orphanage in Shanghai. Her own daughter lived in the same shelter. She saw how the Archbishop brought himself to exhaustion, founding this shelter, which he dedicated to his beloved saint - St. Tikhon of Zadonsk; from him he drew the first inspiration for its creation. Living conditions were difficult, and the needs of children whose parents were fleeing the communists could not be met. The young Bishop almost immediately gathered several women and asked them to found a committee of trustees, rent a house and open a home for orphans and for children whose parents needed help. How amazingly St. John was able to gather and feed these children! Previously, these children were malnourished, experienced all sorts of deficiencies, and were afraid, until Vladika John appeared and often personally took them to his orphanage and school. Each of these children had their own tragic experience of suffering behind them, and they were comforting! Maria Alexandrovna told me some of these stories. For example, about a boy named Pavel, who witnessed how the communists killed his father and mother right before his eyes and cut them into pieces. Because of this mental trauma, the boy was speechless and could not even say his own name. He looked like a captured animal, afraid of any person, trusted only his fists and hissed. He was taken to an orphanage that was already overcrowded and had no room for another child. Because the boy was so scared, they decided that he was abnormal and refused to accept him so that he would not scare other children. When Archbishop John found out about this, he demanded that the boy be accepted. Hearing about the refusal, he insisted on his personal meeting with the child. They had not even suspected before that it was a Russian boy, since he only muttered and hissed something, like an animal locked in a cage. Having arrived, Vladika John sat down opposite the still shaking boy and said: “I know that you lost your father, but now you have found him again - and it’s me.” And hugged him tightly. There was so much power of love in these words that the boy immediately burst into tears and spoke! In Shanghai slums, there have been cases where dogs have eaten alive infant girls who were thrown into trash cans. When the newspapers began to write about this, Archbishop John asked Maria Alexandrovna to buy two bottles of Chinese vodka, which made her cower in horror. But her fear only intensified when he demanded to accompany him to these slums, where the murder of an adult was commonplace. Fearless as ever, the young Bishop insisted on this journey through the dark, narrow alleys of the most dangerous areas of the city. She recalled the horror that seized her as they wandered in the darkness of the night, meeting only drunkards, dubious characters, snarling dogs and screaming cats along the way. She carried the bottles in her hands, following him with trepidation, when suddenly there was a dissatisfied roar from a drunken man sitting in the dark entrance; At the same time, they heard the faint squeak of a baby coming from a nearby trash can. As the Lord rushed in the direction of the child's cry, the drunkard let out a warning moo. Then Vladyka turned to Maria Alexandrovna and said: “Give me the bottle.” Raising the bottle in one hand and pointing to the trash can with the other, Vladika John expressed his proposal without words. The bottle moved into the hands of the drunkard, and Maria Alexandrovna grabbed the child. This fearlessness, however, was not acquired without deep inner struggle. They say he returned to the orphanage that night with two babies in his arms. One of these babies was the first girl in the orphanage, Valentina, who still lives in San Francisco. She continued to tell me. I listened with bated breath. Vladika John never ate during the day. Every day he served the Divine Liturgy and received communion, after which he spent an hour in complete silence in the altar, painstakingly washing the sacred vessels. Then, regardless of the circumstances, he went around all the city hospitals, visiting Orthodox Christians in them, as well as non-Orthodox ones, if they needed him and longed to meet him. He gave communion to the mentally ill. Sometimes he even served the Divine Liturgy in hospitals, and in different languages, depending on the need: Greek, French, Arabic, Chinese, and later English. He dined only after midnight and never went to bed; he did not even allow himself to lean against the back of the chair. Of course, he often dozed off, as he exhausted himself to the extreme. But while he was awake, he always prayed for everyone who asked him, and his prayers reached God! And that is why he was also known as a miracle worker. One day at midnight, Maria Alexandrovna, for some reason, climbed the bell tower. The door leading there was on the top floor of the parish house. The wind was blowing and it was cold. Opening the door, she saw St. John. He was in deep prayer. A frosty wind blew through his cassock, and he, standing above the roofs of houses, blessed the houses of his parishioners from above. She thought, “While the world sleeps, it continues to prayerfully watch, like the ancient prophet Habakkuk, guarding his flock in his fiery intercession with God, so that no evil will harm his sheep.” Deeply shocked, she left. So she found out what he did on the long winter nights, when all the people were resting in their comfortable, warm beds. “Why was this necessary?” Maria Alexandrovna asked me a question, looking intently into my eyes. “Who asked him to do this? Why this self-sacrifice when his presence was so necessary everywhere? And she herself answered these questions, breaking my silence: “Inexhaustible love for God lived in him. He loved God as his Father, as his closest Friend. He felt the need to talk to Him, and God heard him. This was not some kind of conscious self-sacrifice. He simply loved God and did not want to exist separately from Him.” “Once during the war,” continued Maria Alexandrovna, “the poverty of the orphanage reached such limits that there was literally nothing to feed the children, and there were at least ninety of them in the orphanage. Our staff was angry because Archbishop John kept bringing in new children, some of whom had parents, and therefore we were forced to feed someone else's children as well. One evening, when he came to us, exhausted, exhausted, cold and silent, I could not restrain myself and told him everything that was in my heart. I said that we women can no longer put up with this, seeing these little hungry mouths, not being able to give them anything to eat. I lost control of myself and raised my voice in indignation. Not only did I complain, I was filled with anger that he made us endure this. He looked at me sadly and asked: “What do you need most?” I answered immediately: “In everything, at worst in oatmeal. I have nothing to feed my children in the morning.” Archbishop John looked at her sadly and went upstairs to his room. Then she heard him praying and bowing, so hard and loudly that even the neighbors began to complain. Her conscience tormented her, and that night she could not sleep. She dozed off only in the morning, and was woken up by the doorbell. Opening it, she saw an unfamiliar gentleman, who looked like an Englishman, who said that he represented some kind of grain company and they had extra supplies of oatmeal, so he would like to find out if it could be used for it, because, as he heard, there are children here. And they started bringing bags of oatmeal into the shelter. While this continued, doors were slamming restlessly, Vladika John began to slowly descend the stairs. Maria Alexandrovna could barely utter a word when she caught his gaze. He did not utter a word, but only with his eyes, with one meek glance, expressed reproach to her for her unbelief. She wanted to fall and kiss his feet, but he had already gone upstairs to continue the prayer, but now a prayer of thanks. Having told this story, Maria Alexandrovna spoke to me about one young man, Volodya, whom she wanted me to convince to enter the seminary. She asked me to take care of him. This young man had a difficult childhood, and from childhood he was always inclined towards mysticism. He was constantly silent, thoughtful and sad. While other boys ran around and played, he sat with his chin in his palm and peered into the distance. She asked: “What are you thinking about, Volodya?”, and the boy always answered the same thing: “About God!” According to Maria Alexandrovna, he was destined by fate to become a religious person. The way Vladika John found this boy is also an example of fearlessness and a feat of love for suffering humanity. One day, Vladyka asked Maria Alexandrovna to prepare to go to a brothel. She refused in horror, but he just smiled and said that it had to be done. It turned out that there lived a Russian woman who chose this “profession” and who had two children living with her in extreme need. A six-year-old girl and a nine-year-old boy needed to be pulled out of this atmosphere. Maria Alexandrovna, who resolutely protested, realizing that she would achieve nothing anyway, finally agreed to go there with the righteous Bishop. Arriving at the place, they were escorted to the woman's room. The mother was absent, and the children sat alone - they did not go to school and were deprived of healthy food. They began to persuade the children to come with them, telling them about their shelter, which had food, a playground, and its own school. The boy was convinced, but when his mother returned, she became violently indignant and showered them with abuse. However, they managed to take the boy. The girl stayed and later followed in her mother’s footsteps. Volodya went with Vladyka and grew up in an orphanage. When we met, he was 23 years old. As soon as he saw me, Volodya immediately asked me to go with him to visit his friend, a graduate of Berkeley University, who at that time was writing a philosophical work. We agreed to meet on the day of the Feast of the Entry into the Church of the Blessed Virgin Mary in the church; I wanted to take communion that day, so we agreed to meet in the cathedral. It was, as usual, a cold but sunny day, which is so characteristic of San Francisco. After Holy Communion, we walked for a long time and came to a semi-basement room, and there I met my future comrade-in-arms Eugene Rose, later Father Seraphim. Approaching the house, we knocked on the window and went into the basement. The sounds of the adagio of Mahler's Fifth Symphony could be heard. In a dimly lit room, by a blazing lamp in front of the icons, stood a tall young man in a dark sweater with a pipe in his hands. According to my custom, I greeted with the words: “Peace to this house!” And only then did he cross the threshold. To my greeting, the owner replied: “Amen,” that is, he caught the gospel saying. Without being embarrassed, I immediately asked where his socket was. Pointing his finger at the wall, he was surprised, but I, without embarrassment, inserted my portable slide projector and began showing thirty-three slides on the wall with my comments, which included an explanation of the photographs of living representatives of Holy Rus' who are now in America. There was a panorama of holy monasteries, monasteries, islands in Alaska, St. Herman, the hermit elder Fr. Gerasim, Canadian nuns, schema nuns, Novo-Diveevo, students of the Optina elders and, of course, ended with Archbishop John Maksimovich. I felt that my words were received with interest because everything was new to the listener. When I finished, my master said only one thing: “What a revelation!” This was all new to him. What struck me was that in the corner of the house of the young “beatnik” there were icons, and in an important place hung a portrait of Emperor Nicholas II, hanging like an icon! He turned out to be a great lover of historical Russia, but did not know about its manifestation in today's America. His veneration of the martyred Emperor Nicholas II aroused interest in the fact that my father, who died from the Communists in Vorkuta, was also a martyr, and that I am a living representative of that Russia that is inaccessible to the Western world because of the Iron Curtain. That's how we became friends. I asked my friends to introduce Eugene to Vladyka John when he arrived from France. And by the beginning of Great Lent, Eugene accepted Orthodoxy and was awaiting my arrival in order to do something to familiarize his peers with Orthodoxy. He wrote the book “The Kingdom of Man and the Kingdom of God,” inspired by St. Augustine’s book “On the City of God.” He was interested in the other side of apostasy, i.e. what gave rise to apostasy - retreat, i.e. nihilism in action in the twentieth century. Having met Vladika John, Eugene became interested in making knowledge of the otherworldly side of Archbishop John accessible to the modern movement of rebellion against civilization, that is, the “beatniks”. When Archbishop John finally arrived in San Francisco and became the ruler, he brought Eugene closer to himself and to church services. At first he sang in the choir, but Vladyka told him to read downstairs in the choir. After the death of Vladyka Eugene, they asked him to sing in the choirs, then Saint John appeared to him in a dream and again repeated that he should not sing there, but read in the choir. In the year of his death, Vladyka tonsured Eugene as a reader, and over time, Eugene became a hieromonk, and through his church writings brought abundant fruit in the spiritual field through the prayers of St. Vladika John, especially for the Americans of his generation. I have always wondered if I would have ever met Father Seraphim, and would have known the world of his works, if Vladyka John had been afraid to stain himself with the shame of crossing the threshold of the “house of sin” for the sake of saving lost souls, for the sake of saving the young soul of Volodya? Of course, as a true servant of the Lord, the Lord knew what he was doing. Thanks to this fearless love of the holy shepherd, love for God and all humanity, all people without exception, Father Seraphim received the opportunity to become not only Orthodox, but also to become a church writer, and even a reverend father, so to speak. And Volodya’s further story is as follows. He responded positively to my call to enter the seminary. Having become a seminarian, he fell in love with monasticism, was a typesetter in a printing house and devoted all his free time to typing all five volumes of the Philokalia of St. Theophan the Recluse. Amendments and additions were made by Presbyter Fr. Mikhail Pomazansky. This was a great feat for the young man, especially since he was oppressed; he had to do typing in the printing house at night. At this time, an Athonite monk appeared in the city of Boston, who founded his monastery with the Athonite charter. Many young people went there, including Volodya. His love for the Greek language and the spirit of Athonite monasticism captivated him so much that he left his monastery and entered a new one. Soon he was tonsured into the minor schema and the abbot named him Theodore, in honor of St. Theodora Sikiot. According to Athonite custom, monks are tonsured immediately into the great schema. Volodya was also made a schema-archimandrite and sent to Greece to serve the daily liturgy in a nunnery on the island of Onusos. He wrote that it was beautiful there, and when he left the monastery to his cell, he had a photograph of Vladyka on the table, and it smelled so fragrant throughout his cell. Volodya stayed there for several years, but his health forced him to return to America, where his native Russian monastery did not recognize his schema-archimandrite. In another, St. Tikhon's, monastery, he lived as a simple monk, and over the years he returned to his shelters in San Francisco and, being unsociable by nature, retired into his narrow world, and recently died as not a world-recognized solitary, but a benefactor for our Brotherhood. It is not known exactly when he suddenly died, but in these numbers the Church remembers the earthquake in Constantinople in 447, when one boy was raptured into heaven and heard the Trisagion there and, returning to earth, told how the angels praised in heaven. Volodya died in 2003. He was of Jewish origin. When he was tonsured a monk, the very next night, in a subtle dream, Vladyka John appeared to the abbot who tonsured him, hugged him and thanked him for giving monasticism to his orphan. The abbot testified to us with his conscience that from this visit he felt incredible joy and smelled a heavenly aroma that lasted long after awakening. For my final presentation on the “slides” (“magic lantern”) at the House of St. Tikhon, I went down to the main hall, which was already crowded with many young people. Both Archbishops Tikhon and John were present, as well as the future Bishop Nektary. I spoke joyfully and for a long time and saw how Archbishop John sincerely laughed at my stupid jokes that were addressed to young people. At the end of the conversation, the venerable Archbishop Tikhon, who, because of his bent form, gave the impression of a man who had risen from the grave, thanked me heartily. Archbishop John smiled and said: “Come back to us” and something else that I could not make out. I thanked them both and, feeling as if I was leaving my home, I left California, determined to return. This marked the beginning of my move to California. And although I went back home to Boston, a year later I moved permanently to San Francisco, where by that time Archbishop John had already been appointed provisionally reigning Bishop of Western America, and Archbishop Tikhon soon died. I painted an icon of Elder Herman and wanted Archbishop John to pray over it in his church at the Shelter of St. Tikhon. By November 1962, I arrived in California, full of ideas regarding the Brotherhood of Elder Herman, and went straight to Archbishop John for guidance. When I arrived at the House of St. Tikhon with the icon of Fr. Herman, Vladyka immediately took her and placed her in the altar in a high place. He said that he would keep it there and pray until the brothers found a suitable headquarters for the Brotherhood, and then he would return it to us. I had to discuss with him the creation of our Brotherhood, the future of Eugene Rose as a member of the Brotherhood, touch on the topic of the mentally ill Alexander, his spiritual son and my friend, and more. He had a lot to do, so I waited until midnight to talk to him. After a midnight lunch, he received me in his office, which was also the headquarters of his diocese. He sat down in a chair and sat me down on the chair opposite him; He pulled me closer to him and asked me to tell him everything from the very beginning. And I wanted to say a lot. I was full of hopes and ideas. My life was just unfolding. I wanted to serve the Lord with all my heart and soul. The only question was how. I began to pour out my soul, thanking him for the opportunity given to me here... when I suddenly noticed that his eyes were closed and he was snoring lightly. Confused, but knowing full well how tired he must be, I stopped. At that moment he opened his eyes and said completely soberly: “Continue!” I started talking again, and he continued to snore. Feeling the futility of my monologue, I began to pray; but he immediately opened his eyes, pulled me close to him, so that there was not more than a foot between our noses, and with absolute seriousness demanded that I continue. I complied and boldly expressed all the major issues that I needed to resolve. While I was talking, he was sleeping and snoring. When I stopped, he asked if I was finished. After answering in the affirmative, he answered, one by one, point by point, all the questions I asked while he was sleeping. I was amazed and realized that he was not sleeping - only his body looked asleep from exhaustion. Based on these answers, we created our Brotherhood of Rev. Herman; Family problems were resolved, I got a good job, was able to buy a house for my mother overlooking the bay, and over time, became a monk and founded with Fr. Seraphim monasteries for men and women in California and Alaska. And all this thanks to the prayers of the holy seer, Archbishop John, who, listening to me “in his own way,” prayed for me and my ideas and begged. With the blessing for the creation of the Brotherhood, which I received from Vladika John during the above-described conversation with him, when he was sleeping and I was speaking, a plan for the Brotherhood was drawn up. After reading our plan, the Master blessed us with these words: “Your intention is clearly a good deed. We must make every effort to implement it, asking God for His all-powerful help. If God wills, things will work out. God bless you." With love Arkhp. John. August 28, 1963 Then I expressed the desire that our store should be the main business of our Brotherhood, and expressed the hope that it would be next to the cathedral. The Bishop said that we need to come to an agreement with the cathedral kiosk so as not to compete with each other. When this was settled, I asked if it was possible to sell on Sundays, because... work on this day is not allowed, to which he replied: “In our time, selling spiritual books is not trade, but missionary activity.” And he sent the fathers of Archimandrites Nektarios and Spyridon to serve a water-blessing prayer service in our store to open it, and appointed them to be our leaders, who after his death also became our monastic mentors and “elders from the mantle,” according to the foresight of the Lord. My icon of Elder Herman, painted with a halo in case of glorification, remained in the altar. Before her, Vladika John prayed that we would find a suitable headquarters for the Brotherhood. When a store was found next to the cathedral under construction, we carried it on foot, several blocks away, directly from the altar to the store and placed it in a corner in front of the printing machine. Every year, on the day of remembrance of Elder Herman, Vladyka, accompanied by vested subdeacons, himself in a small omophorion, came to our store, took the icon and solemnly carried it, holding it high above him, into the cathedral, laid it on the lectern, and first a requiem service was performed in front of it, and then glorification was sung as to a glorified saint. It ended with the singing of a troparion, already compiled long ago, the author of which, in all likelihood, was St. Tikhon, the future Patriarch of All Rus'. Vladyka John concluded with the word that the miracles of Herman of Alaska anticipate his official canonization and that one of them is in reality in a store next to the cathedral, where missionary work is carried out in the name of St. Herman. Then they carried the icon back. Orthodox word. "The Orthodox Word" The store opened in 1964, and by the end of this year the opportunity had already matured to publish its own magazine, which Vladyka John called “The Orthodox Word.” I asked him to be our censor, knowing that due to the fact that the magazine would be in English, we would have opponents or envious people, and we wanted to be outside of church politics, but to stand guard for the Original Orthodoxy. He blessed and said: “Print, I’ll look later.” I objected that then it would be too late if we wrote something inappropriate. His stern gaze made me tremble, and I fell silent. We printed three issues, inviting him to read them first, but he waved them off, saying that everything was fine. At this time, Pope Paul IV arrived at the UN building in New York and delivered a speech in which he ecumenistically emphasized the universality of all religions. The image of a religious leader among representatives of modern apostasic humanity aroused anger among the Orthodox, and Eugene wrote a short but important article in which he likened the Pope to the Antichrist. The reaction to this article, although not violent, was with obvious dissatisfaction on the part of liberals, who believed that it was incorrect to express themselves this way and threatened to boycott the magazine. I ran to Vladyka and dragged Evgeniy with me. We arrived at night, and I said: “Why, Vladyka, did you allow us to publish such a harsh article?” Evgeny was silent. Then Vladyka looked at me seriously and said: “Have you graduated from the seminary? Was your teacher Vladyka Averky? Do you know how he expressed himself on this topic? To which I nodded affirmatively. Then he said something like this: “In our time, every Orthodox Christian is responsible for all Orthodoxy, and the entire Orthodox Church is responsible for the Orthodox Christian; you should not wait for decrees, but know for yourself what to print. You were trained for this in seminary. You must act boldly for the Truth." And he added that he himself agreed with Archbishop Averky. Eugene was triumphant (they say, “yes, you need to stand heroically for the truth”). I then realized that the life of our Brotherhood from now on will be a feat of standing alone. Vladyka treated us to his midnight dinner and said goodbye. Later he will tell others that we are “on the right path.” We haven’t lost any subscribers, but even more than that, we’ve gained many new like-minded people. Vladyka often came to us to find out how our work was progressing, and also asked us to participate in the diocesan publication “Orthodox Blagovestnik”. He demanded that we publish small articles in each issue, and Evgeniy always wrote in English. If we were late, he personally called several times, demanding that we deliver on time. Then I thought, what is so important in our articles that the bishop himself should be so worried? But then I realized that he was seeing the light, because our entire future would be connected precisely with the printed word, and then this was not clear. In connection with the “Orthodox Blagovestnik”, it should be noted that after the death of the Vladyka, the new ruling bishop did not want articles about Vladika John to be published in it, since he was afraid that criticism might arise in relation to the persecutors of the Holy Vladyka, who then occupied important positions, and did not want anything about the Vladyka to be published at all while his enemies were alive. Those who knew the situation objected to him: “But then his friends will die too! Will there be nothing to print? “Then you can print whatever you want,” was the answer, i.e. and fantasize, you can guess about it. And after the death of Vladika John, with the blessing of Bishop Nektary, I continued to edit and published various innocent articles and memoirs of those who knew Vladika, although this also alarmed those in power. St. Bishop John sent us a guardian angel in the person of Bishop Nektarios. Once Vladyka Nektary came to our forest very sadly and confidentially informed us that persecution was being prepared against us, and for three reasons: 1) because we still publish about Vladika John, 2) for our stand against the “Dogma of Redemption” and 3) simply out of envy. What should we do? Bishop Nektary replied: “If you, having received a truthful message about Vladika John, do not print while living in a free country, then this will be a sin.” I objected: “What can we do, we’ll get screwed for this!” He crossed himself and said: “And glory to God.” So we printed and suffered. The canonization of Father John of Kronstadt was being prepared even before the revolution, and throughout the years of the Soviet period, miracles accumulated abroad, and it seemed natural to glorify him, if not in Russia, then abroad. Under Metropolitan Anastasia, a year of canonization had already been appointed, but due to the fact that Father John of Kronstadt was associated with the monarchy, all local churches, to please the communists, refused for fear of recognizing this holy cause. When Metropolitan Anastassy died, this question was raised again. Vladyka John was supposed to take his place as metropolitan, but since he had many envious enemies, turmoil arose and the bishops were divided into two equal camps. Vladyka John came to the youngest of the bishops, who had recently arrived from Australia (and before that from China), Philaret, at night and said: “Tomorrow I will be elected metropolitan, but I will refuse in your favor, so that the first thing you do is glorify Fr. John of Kronstadt." In the morning it was like that. The newly elected Metropolitan Philaret declared that he would accept the First Hierarch's crucifixion on the condition that he would be glorified throughout the Orthodox world by St. Father John of Kronstadt. It was decided to celebrate the celebration of glorification for each diocesan bishop in his dioceses. A liturgical commission was convened in San Francisco; Bishop John composed a kontakion, which was included in the text of the service. Icons with a halo were painted many times before glorification, and they were found in almost every Orthodox family. By this time, veneration of dark forces had increased in America in the form of the Helloween celebration, which was popularized by the media. The date of glorification on the eve of October 19 (old style, November 1 new style) 1964 was approaching. The long-awaited event was celebrated by our Brotherhood, which released the second issue of a magazine entirely devoted to this topic. We came to the cathedral for the all-night vigil, expecting a large crowd of believers for such an event, but, strangely enough, the cathedral was almost empty. I was amazed, I couldn’t understand what had happened. After the all-night vigil, having arrived home, we were drinking tea, when suddenly servant Pavlik Lukyanov came running to us and said: “We were just at the ball with Vladyka!” And, laughing, he told us the following. After the all-night vigil, Vladyka John told him, as if he were his driver: “Let’s go to the ball”! Pavlik was surprised, but at the insistence of Vladyka he took him to the Russian Center, where dances were held that Saturday evening. They went up to the second floor. With anger, the Lord opened the door with his staff, entered and saw that his flock, dressed in all sorts of appropriate costumes, was dancing, celebrating Helloween. Angrily, loudly knocking his staff on the floor, he walked around the entire room. The music stopped. Some ladies in embarrassment rushed to him for a blessing, but he angrily pushed them away with his staff and, in the complete confusion of the dressed-up crowd, without uttering a single word, he left, accompanied by sobs from the ladies. The next morning, thunder struck: in full vestments, a strong word was spoken to them from the pulpit and penance was imposed on all the guilty cathedral members. This made a grave impression on Eugene and showed him how strongly the opinion of this world affects those who are not firm in the Orthodox faith, although outwardly they take an active part in church life. This lesson remained with Father Seraphim until his death, for it was an indicator of the power of nihilism in modern life. Although the bishop’s courage was similar to something similar from the life of St. Tikhon of Zadonsky. One day, late at night, Vladyka appeared to us just at the moment when we were preparing to publish an article about Fr. John of Kronstadt, and I drew an icon that seemed very successful to me. When the Vladyka entered, I exclaimed, “Holy Vladyka, look at what a successful resemblance.” To my surprise, Vladyka made a very sour face and snorted in my direction: “Nothing like that! It doesn’t look like it at all, it needs to be remade!” I was very offended and ashamed, and I hoped that he would smile and forgive me. But that was not the case. I promised to redo it, but he left dissatisfied. This was an example of how the Lord humbled my pride. One day Vladyka came to us, looking for some little book. We gave it to him. He pulled out a small wallet from his pocket and began rummaging through the change to pay the exact amount, including tax. We thrust this book at him, refusing the money, but he hissed, so we jumped back in fright, looked at each other, but remained silent. He carefully laid out the coins on the counter, took the book and, blessing us, left satisfied. This also made some sense. Another time at night, the Bishop came to us and brought an icon of the English saint St. Alban (305) and photographs of the ancient cathedral in which his tomb is located, and told us for a long time about the ancient saints of Great Britain and Western Europe. This topic was known to us, but it was not yet available in our Orthodox church circles. He even told us about the list of Western Orthodox saints who were not included in the calendar of the Orthodox Churches: neither Greek nor Russian. This list was given to the Council of Bishops, but they did not include it anywhere in the calendar. This visit served as the basis for our Brotherhood to begin translating the book of St. Gregory of Tours “Vita Patrum”, which was published 10 years after the death of Vladika John. The appearance of this translation (already in Russian) became a very valuable contribution, since since its writing in the 6th century this work has not been translated either into English or into other languages. Thanks to this overnight visit, we became excited about the publication of the “Orthodox St. Germanic Calendar,” which also contains Western Orthodox saints not included in any other calendars, as well as the most complete list of local saints of different Orthodox Churches: Romanian, Serbian, Greek, etc. In this calendar we also placed in italics the names of ascetics or righteous people who have not yet been glorified, but are awaiting their glorification (many have now already been glorified). We have been printing this calendar for 30 years. Being an archpastor in Western Europe, which in ancient times was enlightened by holy Orthodoxy, Vladyka, naturally, greatly revered the ancient saints, universally recognized before 1054. He created a whole movement for the restoration of local Western Churches - Dutch, French, etc. He was the initiator of the consecration of Bishop James of Holland and John-Nectarius of the Gallic-French Church. We took part in the latter’s consecration because this happened in San Francisco. This story is a whole chapter in the biography of Vladika John. But for now we’ll just say that in this case, Vladika John again found himself abandoned by his own brother bishops. After the death of the Lord, the movement of veneration of ancient Western saints died out. But thanks to Vladyka John, the saints of the ancient saints nevertheless entered the lives of modern Orthodox people who are interested in their spiritual heritage. In the cathedral, on the right side of St. Nicholas, there was a small shelf attached, in front of which during daily services the Bishop stood, supervising the service, and at Compline he read and forced others to read canons, troparia, kontakia to various daily unknown saints, for whom he had texts on different pieces of paper. And he pulled them out of his pockets. When he died, Maria Alexandrovna Shakhmatova asked me to come to his office and take from his archive what seemed important to me. All I found was a stack of small pieces of paper, a collection of troparions and kontakions for Serbian, Romanian and other saints. When he read these canons at Compline, of which there were sometimes 5-6 per evening, it was interesting to see how close these unknown saints were to him, he knew various details about them; and what a shame that I didn’t give this treasure to anyone. Regarding this small lectern, which was attached to the iconostasis, he also confessed near it. When he confessed to me, at first I was very afraid, because I knew that he was perspicacious. We all confessed, knowing that he knew more than we knew about ourselves. He confessed simply; he did not require any special fasts before communion, promoted frequent communion of the Holy Mysteries, and the person left after his confession joyful. Once I stood in line and waited. The reader disappeared somewhere, and there was a gap in the service, I did not think to go and replace him, but when Vladyka saw me idle, he made a very stern expression on his face and reprimanded me. After that I was more careful. One day, while having a midnight meal in the company of Vladika John at his invitation, I witnessed a scene that shocked my mind and did not fit into the “normal” modern framework. I needed to see the archbishop. Vladyka John asked me to stay late, as he was busy until midnight. Maria Alexandrovna prepared the usual lunch, which consisted of cabbage borscht and some kind of vegetable dish. Archbishop John sat at the head of the kitchen table. To his left, near the wall, sat Father Mitrofan, next to whom I was sitting. Opposite Father Mitrofan was Bishop Savva, from Canada. Behind Bishop Sava, in the kitchen, next to the stove, stood another woman; there was a thick layer of lipstick on her lips, and she was complaining to Maria Alexandrovna about something in a whisper. As we were eating soup, I noticed that Father Mitrofan was giggling and looking over Bishop Sava’s shoulder at this woman. Then, to my horror, I saw Vladika John leaning forward over his plate, so much so that his beard was dipped in the soup. Instead of putting the spoon in his mouth, he used it to deliberately pour soup over his mustache, on which slices of cabbage were stuck. I couldn’t believe my eyes, since there was no reasonable explanation for the fact that he, “missing” his mouth, was pouring soup on his own mustache. Bishop Sava, who was sitting opposite me and did not have the opportunity to see this woman standing behind him, was, to put it mildly, very embarrassed. He pulled out his napkin and politely offered it to Vladika John, who displeasedly threw it aside. Father Mitrofan simply enjoyed this spectacle and, winking, nudged me with his elbow. I didn't know what to do. Coughing, I pretended not to notice anything, but the performance was quite frightening, since the Vladyka continued to stare intently at the woman with lipstick on her lips. Then suddenly the woman gasped, Maria Alexandrovna whispered something, and the performance was over. Then Vladika John took a napkin, wrapped it around his beard and went into the bathroom, leaving the door open. He washed his beard thoroughly, then returned and finished his dish. Bishop Sava, who did not know about the lesson that Vladyka John taught to the painted woman, remained perplexed. While Father Mitrofan whispered to me that the woman had truly learned something. Why was it necessary to stage such a performance to teach a woman not to follow fashion trends, which is as absurd as decorating her mustache with cabbage? Everything was done absolutely without words. Perhaps this was also for the proud me - as a lesson in self-abasement? But this was not foolishness. One day, when I was getting ready to serve, I entered the altar, and when Vladika John saw me, he pointed at my tie with his finger. I didn't know what he meant. Then a boy took me aside and told me to take off my tie because the Archbishop doesn't allow altar boys to wear a tie. Then I noticed that none of the subdeacons had ties. It was later revealed that the real reason he forbade wearing ties in the altar was that a tie represents a hanging loop, which symbolizes death, while the altar represents the heaven of life. Again, there was a deep meaning in this, and in subsequent years Father Seraphim and I myself always followed these instructions, passing them on to our servants in Platina. Archbishop John never spoke at the altar. When something was wrong, he would just click his tongue as a sign that corrections needed to be made. And the clicking continued until the matter was corrected. The same sound was made in the altar so that we would not speak. There was always silence in the altar. Once, when they were already preparing to install crosses on the domes of the cathedral, the Vladyka’s servant boys came running to our store and said that they were opening the entrance to the domes and then would close them forever, and that now it would be possible to climb there, and that the Vladyka would go there too. Of course, we dropped everything, closed the store and ran to the cathedral. The Lord was already standing at the elevator. We entered the elevator in a crowd, but then for some reason the boys and Evgeniy suddenly ran out and the elevator began to rise. I was left alone with the Lord. In bewilderment, I looked at him and froze! He prayed and looked sternly through me, straight into my soul. At that moment I knew that he saw right through me, and I became scared from the realization that we seemed to be ascending upward, and I was so sinful before the judgment of God. After all, I was left alone in this mysterious moment, naked before God and this terrible superman. I saw him, caught him in a moment of prayer whirlwind. He stood nearby, but at the same time he physically lifted himself off the ground... Something otherworldly opened up to me. I was overcome with horror and could not look at him. At that moment it seemed to me that he was rising, I was descending. How they used to see St. Seraphim of Sarov praying, rising from the ground through the air, and, as I later learned, Vladyka was also seen this way. The elevator stopped. He left. But I didn’t go to the roof to look at the view of the bay from there; I saw something higher than the roofs of the houses. On the contrary, I ran to my room and, still in fear, burst into tears. What I felt when I found myself locked in an elevator alone with a praying holy man cannot be described, but I must remember, for in moments of tedious everyday prose we must strengthen ourselves with a fiery faith in the Omnipresent God, who has become accessible to us earthly thanks to those unearthly like Vladika John. From time to time, criticism reached my ears about the fact that Archbishop John goes barefoot, which I personally could witness during his home evening, or rather midnight, meals. Mainly, he was accused of serving barefoot at the altar. I have never seen him not have sandals on his feet while on duty. But he never wore socks. Be that as it may, one day during the morning Liturgy I happened to be in San Francisco on the occasion of the Remembrance Day of St. Joseph of Belgorod, a saint whom I loved very much. He was the heavenly patron of Archbishop John's youth circle in Shanghai. I arrived in the city and I needed to visit the House of St. Tikhon in the morning. When I entered, the Liturgy had already begun. There were only three of us: Archbishop John served, Father Leonid (Upshinsky) sang, and he asked me to serve. The Bishop silently blessed me to put on the surplice, and the service continued. I was immersed in prayer, and at the same time the fear that I would make a mistake at the altar did not leave me. Suddenly I noticed that Archbishop John was barefoot; at that same moment it immediately dawned on me that this was the day of remembrance of the Prophet Moses, who was told from above to take off his sandals, for he was standing in a holy place. But the altar is the Holy of Holies for all, and I am near it with my shoes on! Then it dawned on me that it is the one who is shod who shows insensitivity to the holy place, and nothing else. I remember how my legs began to seem to be on fire, and I began to pray in tears to God to forgive me for my rudeness towards this holy place and misunderstanding. That Liturgy was almost impossible to understand. Almost throughout the entire service, Archbishop John made exclamations so unintelligible, as if he were muttering in a foreign language. I remembered the apostolic times and prayers in special languages. I wondered if this was not quite natural, since St. Moses also had a speech impediment? And here is another day of his memory. The service was short and ended soon, but for me, in its depth, it seemed like something like a glimpse into eternity. There was no one in the church except the three of us and probably angels, and sometimes I regret that I cannot pray and cry like I did that morning. My brethren were as absorbed in the service as I was, for we, like the Prophet Moses, felt that we were on “holy ground.” And when I now hear people talking about the “strangeness” of the fact that Archbishop John performed the service barefoot, I remember with nostalgia that Liturgy, so dear to me, with all its humanly “ruinousness” and that indescribably peaceful touch to another world, to eternity. We did not always see Vladyka John enthusiastically joyful, as he was once when we came to the shelter. There was some kind of celebration there then, there were many shelter people having fun and joking. Vladyka John was sitting between two windows in a purple cassock; he was also laughing at some joke when we entered. Seeing us, he stood up, called us to him, and told us the good news that the Icon Society was being created in defense of the ancient writing of icons, and that its chairman would be Fr. Spiridon. A treasurer is needed, as well as people for other positions. He pointed his finger at me, but I screamed: “Well, what kind of accountant am I?” - and everyone laughed. It was fun for me to see Vladyka surrounded by his children. We were happy too. In the end, Eugene agreed to this position, and continued to occupy it until his death. Someone started singing. Two of his orphans were musically gifted: Boris and Nikolai Masenkov. The first served as regent for many years at St. Nicholas Cathedral (with Bishop Mark of the Moscow Patriarchate), and the other subsequently created his own wonderful choir and traveled with it all over the world. They sang something from the operetta “Ivanov Pavel,” which was composed and first staged at the beginning of the twentieth century by my grandfather Alexander Mikhailovich Fokin. We started talking about this, then Vladyka by the way said that his favorite opera was “A Life for the Tsar” by Glinka. When the attention of the youth was diverted from the Lord, he brought me closer to him and pointed to one of the shelters, with a sharply expressed Chinese face, and told me that if I became his close friend, it would make the Lord very happy. Although I did not know Kostya, I understood well my peers who had no roots in the new country, i.e. the psychology of those who find themselves in a foreign land, like myself. Then he called Kostya, introduced me, and in a joking tone wished us to be friends. Laughter was heard from behind, and the youth again surrounded the smiling Lord and took him into another room. Then I started talking to Kostya, and it turned out that he clearly had the problem of an inferiority complex. Although he had friends in the orphanage, because of his origin he felt confused and sad, and no matter how hard I tried, I could not dispel this melancholy and ingrained sadness in him; it was dissatisfaction with oneself and shame for oneself in front of everyone. We agreed to meet with him very soon. Seeing the Lord rejoicing and laughing like a child, I left, forgetting about Kostya and his sour cloud that hung over him. A few months later I remembered Kostya, and we met. But, despite all my attempts to cheer him up or eliminate his sad mood, I could not achieve this. Afterwards I saw him several more times, trying unsuccessfully to attract him to our fraternal activities, but I did not see him again until the death of Vladyka. After the death of the Lord, we met by chance, but he was even more unsociable, with the same boring look as before. Vladyka once told me that the spirit of despondency in teenagers is not demonic possession, and that Orthodox psychiatrists are needed. Maria Alexandrovna asked me not to forget Kostya, but I, having no common language with him, could not interest him in anything, and soon after her death, I heard the sad news that Kostya had committed suicide... What pain he caused to the Lord who loved him so much! What a great feat Vladika John performed, trying to inspire almost extinguished souls, despite all his workload with various urgent matters! I always mourned the fact that I could not establish at least some contact with Kostya, but my memory of him remained associated with the rejoicing archpastor among his chicks. I forgot to say that when we entered the Vladyka that time, a large reddish dove was flying around the room back and forth. Either he sat on the Lord’s shoulder, or he was chased by laughing orphans. It was a symbol of the fluttering soul of the righteous, which raised children rejected by the world with love. I also remember about the dove, which Vladyka nicknamed “Ghoul”. With an injured paw, he flew to the Vladyka and lived by the kitchen window. When the Vladyka performed the rite of the Great Blessing of Water on the feast of Epiphany, I remember that at a certain moment the Vladyka released Gulya into the air, and he freely fluttered and circled around the courtyard, which was between the garages of the shelter, just under the kitchen windows, from which Maria Alexandrovna was looking at him. All this happened to the squeals, laughter and happy clapping of young people, former orphans of the Lord, and now adults, with their children. And the Vladyka generously sprinkled everyone with holy water, he himself was cheerful, as were the children. After the death of the Lord, the dove disappeared. It is appropriate to note here that Vladyka, being a monarchist by conviction, always prayed for the Kings, always remembering the “Blessed Kings.” For example, he always demanded that the cathedral choir sing like this: “Lord, save Your people and bless Your heritage. Granting victories to the Blessed Kings against resistance, and preserving Your residence through Your Cross.” Archbishop Tikhon of San Francisco began to build a large new Cathedral in the area of ​​the city where most Russians from China settled. With great zeal, the collection of funds for the construction quickly increased, and the walls and iron frame had already been erected, when Archbishop Tikhon retired due to illness, and he was replaced by Archbishop Anthony of Los Angeles, a man of harsh character, who on a whim stopped the construction, demanding from the parishioners a financial review of the construction matter. There was great confusion, it got to the point that all the people left the cathedral in procession and came to the convent to take an oath of fidelity to the construction of this cathedral. In order to calm the indignation of the people, the Synod sent a temporary deputy from France, Archbishop John, fortunately that his entire former Shanghai flock had gathered in the city of San Francisco. Here, Vladika John was showered with condemnation from his old enemies, who, out of envy, legally accused Saint Vladika John of covering up budget dishonesty. A civil trial took place, in which Archbishop John’s brother-bishops spoke out against him. The matter was aggravated by the fact that after the death of Metropolitan Anastassy, ​​the head of the Church Abroad in seniority was to be Archbishop John. But the envy of his fellows played into the hands of the San Francisco accusers. It was obvious how the Lord silently, but strongly experienced this test that befell him, and the people of the shelter also suffered. One of them, Boris, came to the Vladyka and said that they could no longer look at such injustice and remain with the persecutors, and asked to bless them to go to St. Nicholas Cathedral to Bishop Mark (Moscow Patriarchate), for which the Vladyka blessed them. Vladyka John was put in the dock. Bishops close to him in spirit sat next to the righteous man when American judges had to decide the fate of the Orthodox righteous man. Evgeny and I took all the events to heart, and although, of course, the Bishop was acquitted (as evidenced by the documents placed in “The Orthodox Word” No. 175–176 for 1994, pp. 109–141), however, many Orthodox Christians were shaken in the steadfastness and justice of church organizations. After the court hearing, where Eugene was present, he returned and told me such a thoughtful phrase, which became the basis of his predictions about the future of the Church: “The Church is an organism, not an organization. Every church organization, insofar as it is an organization, will eventually bow to the Antichrist.” And when I saw Vladika John after the trial, I asked him who was to blame for this turmoil, and received the following answer from Vladika John: “The devil!” And the rest was kept silent. Here it is appropriate to quote the exact words of Vladika John, defining what the Church is: “The Church is the unity of rational beings (angels and men) who believe in the Lord Jesus Christ. And religion is the totality of feelings and thoughts towards the Supreme Being and their external expression.” In 1966, on the eve of St. Tikhon of Amathun (1425), the joyful Bishop John came to our store and with a mysterious smile asked us the question: “Will you be at the shelter this evening?”, since this is the day of the angel St. Tikhon of Zadonsk, the heavenly patron of the shelter. At this time, we were in a hurry to print the next issue of our magazine, which we were late with. But Vladyka looked us straight in the eyes, and, nodding his head affirmatively, expected a positive answer from us. I was just standing at the printing press and typing when he arrived. We were in a terrible hurry, and although we mentally understood that being present at the shelter at the vigil was important, our work was urgent. We promised something, and he left satisfied. However, by the time of the Vespers I did not have time to print my quota, and Evgeniy went alone. There, after the end of the service, Vladyka asked Eugene if I would be at the Liturgy the next day? But neither Evgeniy nor I were able to get in. Both in the store and after the vigil, Vladyka, smiling and looking at us mysteriously, said that he had “something important” to tell us both. We thought that this was just his kind “lure”, and did not attach much importance to it. On this day, after the Liturgy, Vladyka John, accompanied by Bishop Nektary, carrying the Miraculous Icon of the Kursk-Root Mother of God, left for Seattle. And on the way he stopped in the city of Redding, where he repeatedly blessed the icon towards the west of the city, but did not explain anything to either the hostess of the house or Bishop Nektarios. Arriving in Seattle, after the Liturgy I went upstairs to the same room where I had previously spent the night and lost my rosary, and died there suddenly. When rumors reached us about his sudden death, it became clear to us that he knew about it in advance and wanted to warn us and even tell us something important, but due to our hardness of heart we did not heed his call to come to him and listen. And we regret to this day that vain insensitivity was an obstacle to us receiving some kind of revelation from above. We soon realized that he was preparing us for his exodus from the world, and even blessed a place to the west of the city of Redding, where exactly a year later our place for the future monastery would appear. Surprisingly luminous days followed. His body was brought to San Francisco, and, after long farewells, it was buried in a specially constructed Tomb in the presence of the hierarchs, his friends, who mourned him with copious tears, along with a huge number of his children who had arrived. At his tomb, those who condemned and scolded him loudly repented and wept. I remember one woman who, as I myself saw with my own eyes, spat on him in front of all the honest people in the cathedral, and now loudly repented and howled at the whole cathedral. The main instigator of his persecution, Girilovich, who filed a lawsuit against Vladyka, also knelt at the coffin for a long time, and then, coming to our store, for some reason he repented to us. When they closed the lid of the coffin, I held my hand on the Vladyka’s head, and was the last one to touch his future relics. Archbishop Leonty stood next to me; holding me by the shoulders, he sobbed bitterly like a child, tears flowed like hail from his eyes. But there was no sadness in our common cry. Oddly enough, there was a certain general relief in the air. It was a joyful cry. Having closed the lid, people left the Tomb for a long time, and three servants, having received the blessing, brought mattresses and went to bed right there in the Tomb, not wanting to part with their beloved Lord. We brought our fraternal Psalter (a gift from the First Serbian Orthodox Church in California), placed it on the lectern, and with the blessing of Bishop Nektarios, I thus began the forty-day reading of the Psalter. Deep night fell. I was alone, reading the Psalter, and the boys were sleeping. There was indescribable joy in my heart, for I felt with my whole being that the Lord, as if alive, was in this Tomb. It was not for nothing that Maria Alexandrovna Shakhmatova soon had a dream in which Vladyka John appeared to her and said: “Tell the people, although I died, I am alive.” That night I witnessed the power of faith with which Vladika John was revered as a Saint. There were windows in the tomb through which one could see the sarcophagus covered with the bishop's mantle, and an unquenchable lamp burned near the miter. But I was not visible. And I clearly saw how faces appeared, illuminated by the morning dawn, people with fiery faith in the holy man, lips whispering prayer, and eyes directed to the Lord, exuding hope and joy. These inspired faces of deeply believers in the windows, like on an icon, remained before my mind's eye forever. Not long before his death, Vladyka John came to our store and, having given his blessing, began to think about something and walk around the store without saying anything. The one who brought him left, and we were left alone. Having exchanged glances with Eugene, not knowing what to do, I spoke, but Vladyka did not pay attention and even angrily pushed me away. A few minutes later he came to our counter. We offered to sit down. He sat down and we also sat down in front of him. He looked intently into our eyes and said mysteriously with a smile: “What’s next?” We didn't know what this meant. Then he said firmly: “Will you be here?” Eugene replied: “I believe that there will be a missionary monastery in California,” to which Vladyka repeated exactly the same words: “I believe that there will be a missionary monastery in California.” We wanted to know what he wanted to say next, but he got up and left. Later, when we already had a plan to go to the forest, these words became prophetic for us, like a blessing for monasticism. This means that when he walked around our store, he prayed and mysteriously prepared us for monasticism! Exactly a year later, in 1967, on his memorial day, we found a plot of land and went to look at it in the hope of buying it. We didn’t have any money, but the desire to see the place was very strong, because Evgeniy was very tired in San Francisco. Arriving at the mountain in Platina, we walked around this beautiful place and climbed to the top of the mountain. Then I asked the seller about the price. I wasn't so much concerned about the upfront payment as I was about what the monthly payment would be. Evgeny, admiring the beauty of the surrounding nature, walked away a little. The seller’s answer was: “$100 a month,” an amount that was unimaginably large for us. Then I looked at Evgeniy, standing to the side. He heard our conversation, and I saw incredible melancholy in his face, as if in death agony, and I realized that his soul had found a place for “desired rest.” And I prayed that the wish of the future father Seraphim would come true, because... the question of death was decisive for him in all his endeavors. Deciding that there couldn't be a better place, we left without telling the seller anything. On the way we performed Vespers and sang stichera. The sun was setting, it was hot. In this blessed state we returned late to San Francisco in high spirits. In the morning I hurried to the tomb. He knelt in front of the lord’s tomb, laid his head on his robe and froze. At this moment, I clearly hear Father Mitrofan coming down the steps, accompanied by Evgeniy, and loudly saying that a parish meeting had recently taken place, and they offered Evgeniy to be a psalm reader 6 days a week, and since he still goes to church every day, this meant that only on Friday would he have a free day, and for his labors he would be paid 100 dollars a month! Thinking all the time about Vladika John and about the earth, I clearly understood that it was from him! When Father Mitrofan saw me, he called me over and repeated the same words to me as he had told Evgeniy. Apparently deciding that we agreed, he left. We were left alone in the tomb. “What would that mean?” – Evgeniy asked timidly. “You fool,” I said, “can’t you see that Vladika John wants us to have a desert!” In response, he lowered his eyes, knelt on the other side of the tomb and froze. I knew what he was thinking. This meant that he would get what he wanted - to die on this mountain. And so it was. And he lies there in God’s chosen place until the general resurrection of all. When the land had already been purchased, and we needed to build and at the same time stay in San Francisco on the choir, we took turns coming for a week to build a printing house and finish the house, which did not yet have walls. I arrived first. I reached our mountain and soon saw that although we had had this land for a whole year, the Cross had not yet been erected. A light rain began to fall, and I decided, no matter what, to put up the Cross. I found a large beam, nailed a crossbar, and when I wanted to lift it, it turned out to be beyond my strength; but I still, putting the huge Cross on my back, carried it down. The hole I dug in advance was not very deep. When I brought this heavy Cross, it turned out to be unthinkable to insert it into this hole, however, I decided to try. With great effort I inserted the Cross, and, lo and behold, it stood up! I pushed him, but he didn't move! I was afraid that it would collapse, but it stood firm, but how, to this day I do not know. It started to rain, I went under the roof of the house and fell asleep. And I see a dream, many people are walking at a fast pace, and among us is Vladika John, exactly as he was during his lifetime. I keep pace with him. People come to me to intercede with him. I tell him something. At this moment he turns, looks quickly at me, takes my hand and kisses it. I wake up and think, what does this mean? I thought and figured it out! On this day there was a remembrance of the appearance in heaven of the Cross of the Lord in Jerusalem in 351, and Vladika John appeared to me with gratitude for the fact that on this day I erected the Holy Cross in this wild, remote place, where pagan Indians used to live and, perhaps, various evil spirits nested, and now this place was sanctified by the Holy Cross, became a holy Orthodox monastery! A week later, Evgeniy came to replace me. He was to lay the foundation for our future printing press, from which educational books would come out as the light of Orthodoxy for America. He dug a lot and installed four stone blocks and a frame. Out of fatigue I went to rest. When he woke up, he took his tools and went to work in the place intended for such a holy task. To his horror, he saw that a huge poisonous rattlesnake lay in the center and, watching him, began to hiss threateningly. The thought flashed through his mind that if it stung him now, then the hope of creating a place for printing the Word of God for the enlightenment of America would simply perish. Without thinking twice, he took a shovel with a sharp edge, called for help from St. George the Victorious and Vladika John and, crossing himself, with one stroke cut off the head of the serpent, and erected a seal for the Word of God! Out of excitement, he lay down, and in a subtle dream he saw Vladika John entering our kitchen and looking around. He has a thought: if this is really reality, then I will ask him questions, and asked loudly: “Will you, Master, continue to be with us?” There was an affirmative nod of the head. “Will it be easier for us than it was in San Francisco?” - "No!" Having woken up, Evgeniy felt that the Lord would really remain with us, although from the other world. This is exactly what it turned out to be. Evgeniy asked 5 questions and received answers, which were later confirmed by reality. There was no water on our land; it would have been possible to drill a well, but this would have required a lot of money. The Vladika John Foundation wanted to help us, but we didn’t want to bother anyone, even though we had to travel far to get water. But they insisted that we at least get a specialist who could tell us whether it was even possible to drill at such a height. We invited a man who showed us a place where we could drill. Having learned about this, representatives of the Foundation (Olga Mikhailovna Skaryatina; about her, see “Russian Pilgrim” No. 36, p. 194) sent us a check for 3,642 dollars and 60 cents. When the car arrived and, having drilled into the ground, installed the pump, the invoice issued to us turned out to be exactly the amount on the check, as from the Bishop himself. Archbishop John was so close. Having buried Vladyka John below in a special tomb, the believing people did not leave him. People constantly came there and served memorial services and liturgies, the Psalter was read, and miracles were performed inexhaustibly. People knew that in the nearby bookstore there were admirers of Vladika John, they came and told about the miracles that, through the prayers of the Holy Vladika, happened in their lives. It was especially touching to see people who had just experienced this help from Vladika John, which they were in a hurry to share with us. Since our store was accessible to all Americans passing by on the street, who heard church singing and smelled the Athos incense, many came to us, and then converted to Holy Orthodoxy. Some became clergymen and, traveling throughout America, spread his fame. Here is an incident that happened to me. When Vladyka died, I immediately felt the need to pray to him as a saint; often after services in the cathedral he went down to the tomb and read the Psalter there. It was very touching to see some old woman with a candle in her hands in front of the lectern, with difficulty reading complex Church Slavonic words, sometimes completely incomprehensible. But the Lord understood them, heard them, and was comforted that a living soul was working for him. There were many people there, they stood quietly, humbly, waiting for their turn to read, listening to solemn words, as if relating more to the other world, from where the dear Master heard them, than to us, earthly ones. Once I read for a long time and no one else was there. I see that I am alone with the Lord! And something shrank inside me, and I cried bitterly, falling onto his robe. I thought that if he is alive and already with the Lord and hears us and sees us from above, then let him help find a suitable young man for my sister, who wanted to get married, but due to many years of illness could not find a person she liked. Soon they came to close the tomb, and I left. It was Sunday evening. The next day in the evening, my sister tells me that she met a young man and felt that they liked each other. And so it was. Soon there was a wedding, then a child was born, and now they have been living happily for many years. But the most remarkable thing was that their acquaintance occurred at exactly the same hour when I prayed for this Master. He obviously heard and picked a good man. Just before the Dormition of the Most Holy Theotokos in 1982, Father Seraphim became mortally ill. I brought him to the hospital, where they immediately diagnosed a volvulus and urgently operated on him. When the vigil ended, he was already dying, and it was impossible to save him. He lay tied and had a pipe in his mouth; he could neither eat, nor drink, nor speak. Seeing me, he excitedly took my hand and began hastily trying to say something important. I couldn’t understand and asked him to bless me to go to Alaska to continue our work there, St. Herman. He blessed. But I felt that he wanted to say something very important; From his muttering, I nevertheless made out that Vladika John appeared to him and revealed some secret. I focused all my attention and realized that Vladyka John had warned him about death, and that my work would continue, and that there would be a change in our lives, and I would have a great responsibility. The rest was not clear. He began to have a seizure, the pain was unbearable, he thrashed about, became angry, and hissed. The next day, at first he felt very bad, and he was insane under the influence of drugs, spewing out hatred, but after a while he calmed down, clearly became enlightened, began trying to say something about Vladika John, from which I concluded that I needed to prepare for something, and he died. The warnings began to be implemented. Soon our church burned to the ground. Elder Spyridon died. Lord Nektary died, and persecution began against me, despair, abandonment. But after some time, a new wave of brothers poured into my monastery, and instead of our activity ending, the opposite happened. Father Seraphim attracted new people who revered Vladika John and Father Seraphim, and with their help I baptized many people. They helped me in the construction of a new church in Platina and a skete church in Alaska, and the activities of the Brotherhood were completely revived. In Alaska, at the most decisive moment, the Lord appeared to me and gave me the spirit of courage and courage. From this I concluded that Vladika John prepared Father Seraphim for the Kingdom of Heaven, as well as the desire of Father Seraphim and Vladika John to publish Orthodox literature in Russia finally came true, and now they are both widely known throughout Russia, thanks to our publications. From all of the above, I wanted to show at what price holiness was given to dear Vladika John. And what I saw and acquired from personal life communication with him, that’s what I share, despite the thinness of my presentation. It is interesting to note that when he was publicly canonized in 1994, by that time all his fellow bishops had already departed to another world, and only his former enemies survived him and glorified him and spoke “on their own” in their sermons. That is, “from opinion”, and not from a deep understanding of the superhuman, one can call the “bloody” feat of bearing the cross. And again it turned out to be a victory for good! Glory to our God. About how the akathist was written When services were not yet held in the new Sorrow Cathedral, which had shamefully suspended construction, our bookstore was open and attracted the attention of not only Orthodox, but also non-Orthodox, as a place where they could get acquainted with Orthodoxy. Bishop John arrived from Europe, resumed the construction of the Cathedral, and spiritual life began to boil. One fine day, the Vladyka’s servants came running to our store and said that the Vladyka was asking Eugene (the future Father Seraphim (Rose)) to come to him and become the godfather of an American. I called Evgeniy, and he hurried. For a long time he was not in the store behind the counter. When he returned, he said the following. Valentina, the spiritual daughter of the Bishop in Shanghai, now living in northern California in the city of Redding, married an American who, at the request of the Bishop, decided to convert to Orthodoxy. The Bishop himself baptized him, asking for the future of Fr. Seraphim to be his godfather. Of course, Eugene agreed, and Vladyka performed the sacrament of baptism in the old Cathedral in the lower room. But the interesting thing is that during the sacrament of baptism, thunder struck and lightning flashed. To Eugene's shame, the address of the newly baptized Rostislav was lost, although he continued to pray for his first godson. Several years have passed. Brotherhood of St. Herman moved to a deep forest, and we went on business to the nearest city, not knowing that Rostislav lived in this city with his wife, the spiritual daughter of St. Lords. And then by chance, Rostislav’s wife Valentina stumbled upon us in a grocery store. They started visiting us. Rostislav did a great service, brought a gas refrigerator, set up a tank for rainwater, and Valya was a constant pilgrim and shared her memories of Vladyka. In her house, over time, the Brotherhood founded a church-parish, like the Shanghai Cathedral, in honor of the beloved icon of Vladika John, “Helper of Sinners.” Another godson, Fr. Seraphim, young Vasily Anderson, married Valya's daughter. And her eldest son Philip became a priest and served in their home church until his death. Both son and daughter were baptized St. Vladyka, and their wedding took place in the presence of the Vladyka. And so, one day we were expecting the arrival of Valentina Vasilievna in connection with the memory of Vladyka, which was celebrated with a memorial service. The Harvey family were our true benefactors, and we were ashamed to accept their many gifts. This time I had a brilliant idea to console Valya. I ran to Fr. Seraphim to his “Optina” cell and, despite the fact that Valentina could arrive at any moment, he gave Fr. Seraphim immediately obeyed to put everything aside and, crossing himself, write an akathist to the Lord, at least half, and the other half. He took this as inspiration and, “without any embarrassment,” immediately began writing. And I rushed to my “Valaam” cell, but before I had time to write even a quarter of my share, they came for me to inform me about the arrival of the welcome guests. On the way to Fr. Seraphim, I greeted Valya, brought her to the church, sat her in front of the icons and told her to pray to Vladyka to help us, but did not explain in what way. I ran to Fr. Seraphim and I see that he is joyful, his eyes are burning. We quickly finished the akathist and went down the mountain to the church. Having opened the royal doors, we sang the akathist we had just written - a surprise for the guests. And soon Vladyka Nektariy arrived and, although he did not know English well, he listened with emotion and approved of our creation, and later the akathist was translated into Slavic and published in Russia, where it is still distributed throughout the entire breadth of Holy Rus'.