РОСА ПРИСТАНИЩА ОБУРЕВАЕМЫМ

Be a haven for us who love us, and peace in the abyss of sorrows (Akathist, song 6). Miracle 23 in 1676, August 14 A certain commoner in Chernigov, named Thomas, by God's remission for his sins, became so maddened by demonic obsession that he wanted to destroy himself. One day he jumped into a well and sat down at the very bottom, trying to drown himself in the water. Seeing this, the people who happened to be here forcibly pulled him out by his hair, tearing it off in shreds. He escaped from their hands and again ran to the water to drown himself. Guarded, for several days and nights he could not get any sleep, frightened by demonic dreams and ghosts. This Thomas, when he was brought to the Ilyinsky Monastery to the miraculous image of the Most Holy Theotokos, was immediately healed: he received sense, reason, health and strength. As in the sea, overwhelmed, a man drowned in his weakness, and he would have completely sunk, like lead, into the great water, if he had not reached the calm refuge of the Most Holy Virgin... Someone, having escaped the excitement and storm, boasts: “I arrived at a certain place called Good Landings” (Acts 27:8). But where is the best refuge for Mary? She, if only someone sticks to Her, will preserve him safe and sound from any drowning. Israel once walked through the Red Sea with dry feet, and what saved it from being drowned by water (see Ex. 14)? Do you want to say, I think, that the rod of Moses divided the waters with the mark of the cross? But not without the Mother of God, for Her image was foreshadowed there. Do you hear that the sweet-voiced church swallow, Saint Damascus, sings about this: “In the Red Sea, the image of the Intemptable Bride was written in ancient times” (Dogmatist, tone 5). And this kept Israel from the waves of the sea that drowned Pharaoh. They wanted, I think, not to spare the waters and the Jewish race, as those who wanted in the future to become ungrateful and murmuring apostates from God, His enemies, and finally, the murderers of the Son of God, but, seeing in them a sign of Mary, the waves of the sea were afraid: “The sea saw and ran” (Ps. 113:3). Do you see how, even in the Old Testament, Mary, one of Her prototypes, was already a quiet refuge? Let us also listen to Jonah’s unharmed words: how in the depths of the sea and in the belly of a water beast, in the midst of such stench and cramped conditions, did he not die for three days and not be at all damaged in a place where a person cannot remain alive for even half an hour? What was there that kept it intact? Only the same Most Blessed Virgin Mary, Her omen was revealed in that too. This is what the Church says: “In the womb of the baby Jonah the sea beast did not harm him, but he was welcomed; The Word and the flesh entered into the Maiden, having passed through, preserving the Incorruptible” (Canon for the Nativity of Christ, canto 6, irmos). This kept Jonah alive and unharmed for three days, because the Word from the Virgin wanted to become incorruptible. The image of this incorruption was Jonah in the whale. Oh, what a good refuge the Most Pure Virgin is! How he brings out his own from the bottom of the sea alive and intact! Whoever is without Her will drown in a puddle of water, but whoever holds on to Her, even if he is in the middle of the sea, will not get his feet wet. Protect me too, O Mary! “Let not the turbulence of the waters drown me, let not the abyss swallow me up” (Ps. 68:16). We too are plunging into deep waters, for this accursed world is a sea, as many called it. Saint Ambrose: “What sea is as unpredictable as the world, so unfaithful, so rebellious, so frightening with abysses, so agitated by the winds of unclean spirits!” Saint Chrysostom: “This world is overwhelmed by various sins and varied temptations, like certain waves; we read about it: “This is a great and vast sea” (Ps. 103:25).” Cassiodorus: “Indeed, the world is likened to the sea: it is bitter with lies, shaken by demonic waves, confused by the winds of sins.” And Saint Damascus laments: “I sank into the depths of the sea (that is, into worldly passions), and the storm of my many sins drowned me” (Octoechos, chapter 4, canto 6, irmos). Truly the world is a second sea. Both in the abyss of the sea and in the world, there are various destructions, immersions, deprivations of hope, and misfortunes. As the apostle said: “The whole world lies in evil” (1 John 5:19). Life in him is more filled with bitter death than with life. St. Augustine describes it this way: “Can we call this life, which we see in the world, life? Its winds rise, illnesses thin, fevers dry up, the air is filled with infirmities, food burdens, fasting humbles, mockery tempts, sorrows melt away, cares crush, troubles oppress, riches thicken, poverty casts to the ground, youth lifts up, old age bows down, illnesses and evil cases torment - after so much evil, death it's finally coming." Finding ourselves in such an evil sea of ​​this world, in the midst of so many troubles, sorrows and misfortunes, why are we not looking for refuge? Why are we still holding on to the fuss? Why do we insatiably drink salty water of addiction? Why do we love our destruction? Do we not hear St. Gregory of Nazianzus preaching: “Behold, the world that we love is running away, has already shriveled up in itself, but in our hearts it still flourishes! There is death everywhere, crying everywhere, destruction everywhere. They beat us from everywhere, yet we, blinded by the lust of the flesh, love him with those very sorrows. We chase the runner, we rush at the falling one, but not having the strength to support the falling one, we ourselves fall with him.” Having heeded these words and seen their truth in the world with our eyes, let us reject all worldly sorrow and to the heavenly refuge, to God and the Mother of God, we will quickly and diligently flow, exclaiming: “Thou feed me to Thy refuge, guilty of good, affirmation of the faithful, the only All-Singing One!” (Paraklis of Our Lady, canto 3). For lovers of peace, as at sea, there are many troubles everywhere, Those who seek God find a haven of good. During the reign of Justinian there was a certain noble woman, the first patrician in the royal chamber, named Anastasia: a widow, revered by everyone and by the Tsar himself for her intelligence and chaste life. But virtue always has haters: Queen Theodora, seeing her revered and praised by the king, became angry and, out of hatred, conceived evil. Having learned about this and considered the rebellious vanity, idle, and even destructive, the honor of the peace lovers - Anastasia - left everything. She secretly hired a ship, taking only a small part of her estate, and fled. Having reached Alexandria, she settled there and created a monastery, hitherto called Patricin. When Queen Theodora died, the Tsar sent to find Anastasia, wanting to make her Queen for the sake of her wisdom, beauty and chastity, for she was endowed with all gifts from God. Having learned about this, the blessed one gave herself up to further running, taking nothing with her, like one of the beggars. And she came at night to the skete to the monk Father Daniel, told him everything about herself in detail and, crying, fell at his feet, begging him to give her a cell somewhere outside the skete, in the desert, and to hide it so that no one would know about her until her death. The Reverend Father Daniel, marveling at the warmth of the spirit in her and the zeal of the Divine, clothed her in a monastic image with a man’s robe and renamed her, calling her Anastasius the eunuch, gave her a cave eighteen miles from the monastery. In that cave, the saint, having got rid of the stormy sea of ​​the world, despising all the royal glory and honor and wealth, as if she had come to a quiet refuge, to the one God, she lived for twenty-eight years in labors and exploits that who can count? Only the All-Seer. And no one knew that she was a woman, but she called herself a eunuch. Every week, Father Daniel said to his disciple: “Take, child, some bread and water and bring it to Father Anastasia the Skoptsy in the desert, don’t say anything to him, only after knocking with prayer and placing an offering at the door, immediately leave silently.” The student did this for many years, but when he came one day, he found a tablet at the door with the inscription: “Come, father, quickly and take everything you need.” The student brought the tablet to his father, who, having read it, began to cry and said: “Woe to our inner desert, what a pillar we lost today!” Taking the Divine Mystery, he and his disciple went hastily and, opening the cave, found the saint as if engulfed in fire. And the father threw himself on his face, and, crying a lot, said: “Blessed are you, Father Anastasius, for you cared about this hour, despising the kingdom of the earth and the glory of man.” And the imaginary Anastasius answered him: “Blessed are you, new Abraham and host of Christ.” Father Daniel said: “Say a prayer, Father Anastasy.” And Anastasius answered: “I ask for your prayers more at this hour.” And the father said: “If I had anticipated this hour, I would have prayed for you.” Then Anastasius rose a little from his bed, hugged the head of the Holy Father, kissing him, and said: “May God, who taught me and brought me to this place, complete your old age, like Abraham.” The elder took his disciple and threw him at Anastasia’s feet with the words: “Father, bless your child!” - “God, child, who stands before me to separate me from my body, who knows how many feet you have made for this cell, may He rest you with His saints; As the spirit of Elijah rested upon Elisha, so may the name of your Fathers be called upon you.” Then the imaginary Anastasy turned to his father: “Do not take off my robe, but bury me as it is, let no one know about me.” Then the saint took communion of the Divine Mysteries, shedding warm tears, saying: “Now you let me go.” And she added: “Pray for me.” Having said this, she lay down on the bed, looked to the east and, turning to her right, said: “Okay, come, let’s go.” And her face became like fire, and she made the sign of the cross on her lips, saying: “God of hosts, into Your hands I commit my spirit,” and she gave up her soul to God. The father and the disciple wept a lot over the relics, dug up a coffin in front of the cell and, taking from himself the outer robe, the father ordered the student to clothe the honest body in it, on top of the robe in which it was. But when the brother was dressing the holy relics, he noticed the woman’s breasts, like two withered leaves, and learned that the woman was a natural being. And he said to his father: “Abba, Father Anastasius was a woman.” Seeing that this was not hidden from the student, the father told him about the Monk Anastasia: how she had fled from the rebellious world, he clothed her in a man’s robe, renamed her Anastasia, and named her an eunuch, so that she would hide from those who were looking for her, for the Tsar sent many envoys to search for her. And not only the Tsar, but also the Patriarch of Alexandria. And so, kissing the honest relics, the hermits buried them, praising God, wondrous in His Saints. 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