Oh Vasily Ermakov, the war will be quick. Spiritual testament of father Vasily Ermakov
On February 3, at the age of 80, the rector of the temple died St. Seraphim Sarovsky at the Serafimovsky cemetery in St. Petersburg, Archpriest Vasily Ermakov is one of the most famous and authoritative St. Petersburg clergy of recent decades.
His authority was generally recognized both in the St. Petersburg diocese and beyond. Over the years, including during difficult Soviet times, thousands of people found their way to the Church precisely thanks to Father Vasily. Knowing about the undoubted spiritual gifts of Father Vasily, people came to him for advice and support not only from different parts of Russia, but also from many countries of the world.
Like a true shepherd, he served people with his heartfelt words, in which the exactingness of repentant discipline was combined with boundless love and mercy for all those who suffer. As a faithful son of his long-suffering Motherland, he always boldly spoke out on the most pressing issues of modern life in Russia and its tragic history.
Archpriest Vasily Timofeevich Ermakov was born on December 20, 1927 into a pious peasant family in the city of Bolkhov, Oryol region. By 1941, he had completed seven classes of high school. During the war, while under occupation, as a 15-year-old teenager, he, among many thousands of people captured, worked in a camp as a laborer - first in Bolkhov, then in Tallinn.
Already in his youth, which fell during difficult times of war, the future shepherd began his journey into church life. As Father Vasily himself recalled, his family did not have the opportunity to pray in the temple, since by the 1930s all 28 churches in their small city were closed. Only in 1941 did the Germans allow the opening of a 17th-century church in Bolkhov in the name of St. Alexis, Metropolitan of Moscow, located on the territory of the former convent of the Nativity of Christ. It was there that Vasily Ermakov first saw a church service, and soon began to serve at the altar under the leadership of priest Vasily Verevkin.
In a German camp in Estonia, he met Archpriest Michael Ridiger, the father of His Holiness Patriarch Alexy II of Moscow and All Rus', and the future Patriarch himself, with whom he became friends and subsequently studied in the same seminary class. After the liberation of Tallinn from German troops, Vasily Ermakov served in the Baltic Fleet in the last year of the war. While remaining in Tallinn, Father Vasily was a parishioner of the Alexander Nevsky Cathedral, fulfilling the duties of an altar boy and a reader.
After the war, he entered the Leningrad Theological Seminary (1946-1949), and then the Theological Academy (1949-1953), from which he graduated with a candidate of theology degree for a course essay on the role of the Russian clergy in the liberation struggle of the Russian people during the Time of Troubles. After graduation, he married Lyudmila Alexandrovna Nikiforova and took holy orders. He was ordained a deacon by Bishop Roman of Tallinn and Estonia in the St. Nicholas Cathedral of the Epiphany in Leningrad on November 1, 1953. Three days later, on the feast of the Kazan Icon of the Mother of God, Metropolitan Gregory of Leningrad and Novgorod was ordained a priest in the Prince Vladimir Cathedral.
During the 53 years of his priesthood, Father Vasily served in various churches in St. Petersburg. Immediately after his ordination he was appointed clergyman of St. Nicholas of the Epiphany cathedral, where he served until May 3, 1976, when he was transferred to the Holy Trinity Church “Kulich and Easter”. After a short service in the Alexander Nevsky Shuvalov Church, he was appointed rector of the Church of St. Seraphim of Sarov at the Seraphimovsky cemetery, where his further pastoral service took place, addressed to the flock that flocked to Staraya Derevnya from all over the city.
In 1978, Father Vasily was awarded a miter, and in 1991 - the right to serve the Divine Liturgy with the gates open to the Lord's Prayer. In 1997, on the 60th anniversary of his birth, His Holiness Patriarch Alexy of Moscow and All Rus' awarded Father Vasily the Order of the Holy Blessed Prince Daniel of Moscow, and on March 29, 2004, for diligent service to the Church and in honor of the 50th anniversary of priestly service - the Order St. Sergius Radonezh (II degree).
In recent years, Father Vasily suffered from bodily infirmities, but continued to serve almost until his very last earthly days, not sparing his strength and completely devoting himself to God and people. With his last farewell sermon, Father Vasily addressed his flock on January 15, 2007, the day of St. Seraphim of Sarov.
On the evening of February 2, the sacrament of unction (unction) was performed on Father Vasily, and two hours later he departed to the Lord.
The news of this quickly spread throughout the city, and already from the early morning of February 3, thousands of people began to come to the Seraphim Church in anticipation of farewell to the priest.
On February 5, the burial of Archpriest Vasily Ermakov took place. Seraphim Church could not accommodate the huge number of clergy and laity who gathered for the funeral service - Divine Liturgy and the funeral service for Father Vasily. The service was led by the vicar of the St. Petersburg diocese, Archbishop Konstantin of Tikhvin.
When saying goodbye to Father Vasily, many did not hide their tears. But there was no despondency. Father Vasily always taught his children to endure everyday sorrows, to stand firmly on their own two feet and to be faithful Christians.
Father Vasily was buried in the new section of the Seraphim cemetery, opposite the altar of the church in which the last quarter of a century of his pastoral ministry took place.
Eternal memory to the ever-memorable St. Petersburg shepherd Archpriest Vasily!
Publishing department of the St. Petersburg diocese
Photos about. You can see Vasily.
Photos of the grave of Fr. You can watch Vasily for 9 days.
One of the last interviews with Archpriest Vasily Ermakov, rector of the Church of Seraphim of Sarov at the Seraphim Cemetery in St. Petersburg.
This Monday, February 5, all of Orthodox St. Petersburg said goodbye to its beloved shepherd, one of the most famous and revered priests in Russia, Archpriest Vasily Ermakov. In his small wooden church at the Seraphimovsky cemetery, he created a real spiritual center, where people from all over Russia sought advice and consolation. It seemed that at eighty years old, Father Vasily possessed inexhaustible spiritual strength and vital energy. His death came as a surprise to many, even to those who knew about Father Vasily’s serious illness.
His Holiness Patriarch Alexy, who knew Father Vasily Ermakov closely for more than half a century, was one of the first to express his condolences: “May Christ the Savior accept his soul into the villages of the righteous, “where there is no sickness, no sorrow, no sighing, but endless life.” The Kingdom of Heaven and Eternal memory to the newly departed shepherd, devout clergyman, Archpriest Vasily."
We talked with Father Vasily quite recently, and planned to visit him again in the coming days. But it turned out that this interview was the last.
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photo: www.serafim-kupchino.ru |
Father Vasily, you are one of the few who can talk about your personal meeting with Elder Seraphim Vyritsky. When it was?
This was in the first post-war years, when we, Soviet people, were forbidden to know anything about faith, and even to communicate with believers. I came to Leningrad in 1946 to enter the theological seminary. Women in headscarves told me that there is such an elder Seraphim, and it would be nice to go to him and be blessed. In the first spring days of 1946, my friends and I went from the Vitebsk station to Vyritsa. Well-wishers showed the way to Father Seraphim’s house. I still remember this spring street along which I walked then. About ten people crowded around the house. The nun told the elder that future seminarians had arrived, and we were shown in without a queue.
What I saw was forever imprinted in my memory: a sick old man was lying on the bed, looking at us piercingly. We sat down by his bed. I don’t remember what I told him then. He probably asked for blessings on his future spiritual path in life. And I asked for his prayers so that in my future life everything would go according to the will of God. I received this blessing, and I have been bringing spiritual joy for 60 years.
I visited him twice more, but never asked about what awaited me in the future, I only asked for his blessing. And the elder’s blessing is a great force that helped me endure all the hardships of post-war life. I still live with this blessing.
Father Vasily, what was St. Seraphim like in life? How was he different from the legends that are now told about him?
Yes, they say a lot about the elder. What stood for a thousand days on a stone. That the Germans came to him, and much more. But he was a sick man, a truly sick man, lying there. We must not forget that there was a time when the authorities hunted down all those who disagreed with the regime. And the old man was surrounded by informers who reported on all the visitors. And if he were alive and well, and stood up to pray on a stone, he would not have stood for a minute.
And he lived under occupation, like all of us during that terrible time of invasion. And he prayed for his Russian people, suffering from war and occupation. Perhaps the Germans also visited him. But neither Father Livery Voronov nor Father John of Preobrazhensky, who were with him at that terrible time, told me about this.
Those who had been in the camps or whose relatives had been shot came to Father Seraphim. Those who lost loved ones in the war came. People came to him with grief. It was necessary to help the person with a smile, a kind word, to console him. I judge by myself: I have been under occupation since 1942. And I always turned to the priests, and they consoled me. Imagine this terrible time: bombings, German raids, the front is next to us, and other horrors of war. And the priests always found the right words. And Father Seraphim also understood how to console people. After all, he went through the horrors of the civil war, when the Bolsheviks destroyed the Lavra and shot priests and monks.
Father Vasily, you took part in the elder’s funeral service. Tell me how it was?
God judged me, and through the prayers of Seraphim Vyritsky in 1949, on the eve of the Feast of the Annunciation, our fourth year of the seminary took part in the funeral service for this great elder of our land. His funeral service was performed by his father Vasily Raevsky - he was then the dean. And two more priests.
In the books about the elder they write an obvious lie: as if the Vitebsk station was crowded with people trying to take part in the burial of Father Seraphim. This was not the case. People simply didn't know what happened. The authorities forbade reporting about his death, and the news that he had passed on to the Lord was passed on from mouth to mouth only by those who were especially close to him. They were the only ones who came to see off the elder of the Vyritsa land. I only now understand what a strict ban the Leningrad authorities imposed to ensure that nothing spiritual was spread.
Although, if there had been real freedom of conscience back then, as they sometimes try to prove to us now, they could have sent both archimandrites and mitred priests to the funeral service, but not a single one came. And only seminarians came to pray. The living Patriarch Alexy II was among us then. When we meet with him, we often remember this day.
And then, after the elder’s burial, we came to his holy grave more than once. The priest Mikhail Ivanov, rector of the Church of the Kazan Icon of the Mother of God, lived nearby, and we always went to bow to Father Seraphim. They also came in 1953, after graduating from the Theological Academy. And through his prayers, our entire graduation went along the line of spiritual service to our Motherland and the Russian people.
The temple in which you serve is named after another great Seraphim - it was built a hundred years ago in honor of Seraphim of Sarov. This is the first Russian temple whose throne was consecrated in his honor. But your temple is remarkable not only for this. In my opinion, this is one of the centers of spiritual life in Russia, and one of the most numerous parishes in our country. On holidays, one and a half to two thousand people receive communion here. And many more people are being spiritually nourished by you. Father Vasily, in Soviet times, when you came here, what did you find here?
I came here a quarter of a century ago. Then it was a kind of “spiritual prison”, a place of exile, where priests disliked by the authorities were sent, starting in the 50s. The headman here was former partisan Pavel Kuzmich. Although he was a priest, he took a “different path.” He had a very close relationship with the Commissioner for Religious Affairs, Georgy Semenovich Zharinov, who did a lot of evil. The priests “flew” from this temple under ban, and they were not given a place.
When I was appointed here in 1981, I saw the spirit of dictatorship and fear of the commissioner, parishioners wrote slander against each other to the commissioner and the metropolitan. There was confusion and discord. I came and said to the headman: Give me only wine, prosphora and candles, the rest does not concern me.
I preached sermons, calling for faith, for the temple of God, for prayer. My sermons were met with hostility. The headman jumped up with the words: Father Superior, anti-Soviet again! Father Superior, this cannot be done! The Commissioner will not be happy!
Gradually, people began to come to the temple, for whom it was important that here, in the first half of the 80s, they could talk to the priest without fear. They were amazed that they could consult with Father Vasily and get answers to all everyday questions.
Father, you have enormous pastoral experience, more than half a century. What do you think is most important for spiritual salvation in our difficult times?
Today the battle for the soul of the Russian people is very difficult. Once upon a time, we, the priests of the post-war period, were crushed by the Soviet regime. Now we are being crushed by the Young Saints, about whom His Holiness Patriarch Alexy warns so much. But, alas, they do not heed the voice of conscience, the voice of the high priest, the voice of our bishops. They have no obedience. I know about the harm this infancy brings, because I travel around Russia a lot.
First and foremost: they don’t want to deal with the people. Second: they are far from the practice of life. They don’t know what to say to a grieving person, referring to the Holy Scriptures and the Holy Fathers. Today we need to respond to the evil of our time with personal experience and experience.
The third point: now there is no one to consult with. You won't find advisers in monasteries. Sometimes they say things there that lead even me into a dead end from which I don’t know how to get out. They confuse you with penances, services, and advice. The man is in grief, and he should be reprimanded. Does reprimanding help? I haven't seen anyone yet who I've helped. They also say - go to holy places. Does he have the opportunity, the money? These are very difficult times. How to leave your family and go to the ends of the world? Is it really impossible to resolve the issue at your parish, with your priest? They all push people away rather than help them.
And we, those who came to serve God and people in the post-war years, are considered a relic of the past. But I tell them: If you, the Young Saints, had been assigned to our service for even a week in those years, you would have immediately raised a cry and even left.
I'll give you one example. When I served in St. Nicholas Cathedral, somewhere in 1954 I went to confession, the priestess said to me: Again today I sold three hundred crosses, probably Father Vasily confessed. They walked without crosses. Our post-war generation was afraid to even talk about crosses. And I came down from the pulpit and told people that without a cross you will not go to confession or receive communion. And the rest of the priests were silent. They are still silent now. Money has crushed everything.
You need to approach a person subtly. Ask him what grief and melancholy visited him. And now they anointed me with oil, and that’s it. As if the sacrament of unction is not intended for those who are seriously ill. Remember "War and Peace"? There they administered unction to a bedridden patient, as the rite says, “on the bed of one lying.” And here they are performing unction on those sitting, standing, and screaming - three hundred people at a time. They don't even hear prayers. And besides, how can people who live in enmity be given unction? Those who live “as partners”?
After all, the Russian Church has always treated this sacrament very sensitively. Optina did not know spontaneous unction. Both in the Trinity-Sergius Lavra and on Valaam there were no such crowds. The first such unction took place during cholera in Odessa in the middle of the 19th century, when St. Innocent (Borisov) administered unction to all the sick.
So I approach confession very strictly. I teach that everyone should understand why and why they are going. And what should happen to them in their spiritual life. And we must also take the sacrament seriously. You cannot think that communion is a pill. Every time we read: “I will not give you a kiss like Judas.” And you took communion, and then where did you go? Seraphim of Sarov said: “Here you received communion, but there you were not received.”
The trouble with the Young Saints is that they have nothing but form. They do not teach the people either the Fear of God or faith. And in this difficult time, the main thing is to preserve the spiritual traditions of Russia.
Interviewed Sergey Kanev
Copyright 2004
I don't want it to be a "My Way" memory. It's not about me. All of us, the father’s children, came (or more often crawled) to him, greatly wasted by life. And I was on the edge. I understand this better now than I did then. But Olga Shmeleva, who by that time had been cared for by Father for six years, said: “It’s time to go to Father Vasily.” Before this, mutual friends sometimes said that Olga went to some father Vasily. It was a little strange (Olga gave the impression of being worldly), but it didn’t stick in my memory: it was too far from me.
So, mid-November 1992. We met in the Chernaya Rechka metro station. A little on the tram, a little through the cemetery, which I’ve never been to. A small wooden church, so not St. Petersburg, so Russian. Joy: I recognized an icon on the pediment: 2 months before that I was in Sergiev Posad (then still in Zagorsk) and hesitated in the church shop, not knowing how to ask for the icon... that one... grandfather on the pebble... And so I haven't decided. The icon was bought for me by a friend who dared to ask and told me: Seraphim of Sarov. Wow, Seraphim of Sarov is here too... Then Father Seraphim was with a bear, but 10 years later, during renovation, they changed it to the current icon. They say that Father did not like that icon. And I liked...
Olya and I entered the temple; there were few people, but not empty. In the middle of the temple stands a priest with the appearance of a simple rural priest. True, I never knew a single priest, especially a rural one, but this is how he seemed to me fiction. And suddenly - a look... Like a laser, space and me were cut through. A path formed, and I followed this look. Olya introduced: it was Natasha and said a few more words. Father Vasily - I called Father that for a long time - asked: what do I have? I was sick... for a long time... now I feel bad... She said - What Badly.
Well, what did you do?
Baptized...
Well done! And how did it happen?
Better... it seems...
Not better, but good!!!
I give direct speech because I remember everything as if this dialogue took place just now. Almost 20 years have passed.
He asked what was troubling my soul right now. She cried and said, and Father said so kindly, almost cheerfully:
Well, this is a childish sin!
Then he spoke quietly and for a long time. It seemed to me incomprehensible why he was saying this, what did I have to do with it, and his speech was not even very articulate... Only many years later did I understand the meaning of the words he said then: he saw the root of all my troubles at first sight. Then I didn’t understand anything, I stood in a fog.
Many, recalling their first meeting with Father, write that they then flew as if on wings. None of this happened to me. But this look... I said to myself: "If this priest believes in God, that means God exists. It's all about me." And one more thing... Father regretted it me. After my mother died, no one felt sorry for me.
I started going to this temple. I didn’t feel any grace, I didn’t even know what it was. I went as if I was going to work - not because I wanted to, but because I couldn’t help but go. I didn’t understand anything about the service, I was irritated, I waited for the end when “the curtain would close,” but I went stubbornly. Because there was father Vasily, and he said that we need to go. I came, undressed in the right entryway (they undressed there back then), took off my boots, put on slippers and stood in the corner where the icon of Blessed Xenia is now. And Father... were there really such times? Father smiled and sang directly: “Nata-a-shenka has come!” and he burned incense for me, and he burned incense for me. But after two months he no longer burned incense separately and did not greet him - other weak people came, but this one stood tightly in the corner. Then Father didn’t call me by name again, but just: “Well, mother, take it easy?” I was sad: all around were Lenochka, Vova, Sashka, Katenka, only I was nameless. I want attention, recognition... I'm stupid, stupid. After all, as soon as he steps out onto the pulpit, he instantly embraces everyone, pierces everyone, grabs everything, and prays for everyone.
Father surrounded by spiritual children
I began to become a church member very slowly. As Chekhov said that all his life he had been squeezing a slave out of himself, so little by little, with the resistance of my entire intellectual-dissident mind, I squeezed out the past. No, not me - Father’s prayers, his compassion for us broken, distorted, his unbending and unshakable Faith, the immeasurable, Divine power of his soul, his presence in your life, even when you are far from him, and he was nearby.
And I still go to church. It seems that I have come to the first step of our St. Seraphim Church and am standing small, and the high step is nearby, but I can’t climb it. I've been standing for 20 years.
In 92-93 there was not such a huge number of parishioners in the church; you could approach Father and ask, for example:
Father Vasily, I’m going to a birthday party, you see - I bought icons. Which one should I give to my friend?
But I must say that at that time they had only just begun to sell icons in our candle shop and the first thin prayer books. Father carefully examined what I bought:
Give the Savior.
This icon was the first one my friend had, it was December 92. And I learned that Christ is the Savior. Let today's young people laugh, who were brought to Father at 3-4 years old at the same time as I, 45 years old. My generation knew a lot, except that Christ is the Savior. So it stands before my eyes: Father is on the pulpit, and under his feet, some parishioners from 2 to 5 are crawling. And some prayer book has already fallen asleep on the step. Happy!
My twenty-year-old nephew died in December 1992 in a car accident. I'm going to Father:
Father Vasily! my nephew died, unbaptized...
For the first time suddenly sharply:
What do you care? This is a mother's business!
I shrank all over. Now I understand whether it was me who was weak and begging for him. I didn’t understand then, I was scared, especially since his mother was mentally ill. True, it later turned out that Lesha was baptized, he was baptized shortly before his death.
Spring '93. Lent. My first Post. I go to church on a weekday. It’s sunny, but there’s ice on the road, I’m slipping. On the steps of the temple, Father is alone. He's warming himself in the sun, wearing only a cassock. Can those who came later - in the late 90s and later - imagine this?
Father Vasily, my friend is calling me to Unction, but what is this?
No need... 7 priests are gathering... (began to explain a little).
But I immediately didn’t want to go to the Unction. Then I often heard how Father scolded those who were eager to go to Unction for the wrong reasons, I kept wondering why they were eager if Father did not bless. Who is better at this than he?
Thank you for everything!
And thank you. For obedience.
I was amazed. And especially since I didn’t listen to Father twice: once I didn’t understand, and the second time I couldn’t control myself. And both times I got it: my illness worsened greatly. “I accept what is worthy according to my deeds!” - what else can you say? It didn't come right away.
Father walks from the altar to the chapel, a woman runs after him:
Father, should I take the pills?
Without turning around:
I'm on the side - at the same time:
Not looking:
Take it!
I didn’t tell Father what pills I took, the doctor prescribed it.
Previously, after Communion, all the communicants huddled together at the pulpit and Father put the cup on everyone’s head; if he couldn’t reach it, he would at least touch it a little. What a joy it was when he delivered it stronger! Then it became impossible, the parish increased exponentially.
Father always saw everything. Somehow, at the beginning of my churching, I came to an empty church during the day on weekdays. I’m going to light a candle for Father Seraphim. And there’s nothing to light it with - just a lamp. She awkwardly lit a candle from the lamp, and then the granny was angry, saying that all sorts of newbies were walking around here:
You cannot light a candle from a lamp!
I jerk away in fear (I was afraid of church grannies for a long time).
She's doing everything right!
But these grannies are no longer there - they have gone to the Lord. Was I then able to understand that they kept the faith while my generation either built communism on Komsomol construction sites, or read Kafka - depending on their interests. And the collapse overtook us all. Drunkenness, depression, illness, fornication, broken families, children - drug addicts. These are the beauties we, the product of the land of the Soviets, greeted the 90s with. Thank God - I washed ashore - to Father. Merciful God gave me this happiness.
For the second day we have been crying: yesterday His Holiness the Patriarch reposed in the Lord - December 5, 2008 in the morning. Here, father, your beloved friend has left us.
Like you, he lived 79 years and did everything assigned by the Lord. I am sure that he will be canonized - we will not live to see it, but if Russia and the Orthodox Church stand, then this should happen. It is impossible to list, not to comprehend, not to comprehend with reason how much His Holiness did during the 18 years that he was the High Hierarch and during his entire life. Glory to You, Lord, that You have been worthy to live and be a member of the Church in the times of His Holiness and Yours, Father. What mercy the Lord showed to me, the most sinful little bug, unworthy to even raise my eyes to Heaven. We are crying, but I rejoice in the fact that the Mother of God took your friend, Father, by the hand and said: “Hello, dear Alyoshenka! Let’s go to Vasya!” And She led him to the Paradise Abodes, where Ksenyushka, glorified by him, and Father Seraphim, whose relics were found by His Holiness, and the host of New Martyrs and Confessors of Russia, led by the Royal Passion-Bearers, are already waiting. And the parents of His Holiness, who did so much for you, dear Father, and you, his faithful and devoted friend and comrade-in-arms. I look at your photographs from 1945 and the inscription: “Dear Vasya Ermakov, my best friend...”. Which Nice boys, what bright faces, what a life ahead... truly to the Glory of God... And a photograph from 2005: the Patriarch and you in Tikhvin at the celebration of the return of the icon of the Tikhvin Mother of God - two elders, already slightly bent, but hands in hand, eyes into your eyes and how happy you are! Boys and friends met - and there is no 60 years of long, such a narrow path, no gray hairs and sorrows - there is only joy, even some kind of mischievous one. The soul does not age: “Vasenka, hello, my dear!” And yesterday you met again. and you, Father, extended your hands: “Alyoshenka, dear, beloved friend!” The Kingdom of Heaven to you, our dear Fathers, guides, guides, comforters. Glory to you who showed us Light, Truth and Life! Pray to God for us! I bow to you, love, inexpressible gratitude... There are no words, only tears flow and flow...
92-93 years. Vanka went to college, I work in an emergency room. No money, no food. We ate pearl barley porridge and pea soup with water. It was enough for me, but Vanka, of course, didn’t. I’m going to church, I don’t even have money for a candle. I went on pension for my disabled daughter-in-law. But I’m keeping the force. The clothes were still decent, and the coat was not old, and the fur hat did not look like a beggar woman yet. It seemed to me that there was even some kind of elegance present, in any case, my co-workers, the doctors, were dressed even worse.
The service is over, let's go to the Cross. I kissed myself and heard what seemed to be a quiet voice:
"Wait". But I'm sure it's not for me. I'm leaving. Another time again: “Wait.” Again I leave in full confidence that it’s not me: there are a lot of people, but I still don’t feel like I belong, I can’t even imagine that the priest is addressing me: he looks in the other direction, gives someone a cross, takes someone by the hand , says something to someone... I clearly have nothing to do with it. This went on several times: “Wait.” Somehow in passing... or am I imagining it? It dawned on me to ask Olya Shmeleva: “Listen, I don’t understand... maybe this is for me?” Olya: “So we have to wait!” I stayed. People are walking and walking, I stand obediently, but I am perplexed. Finally, everyone passed. Father takes me by the hand: “Let’s go.” He leads me to the soleya, I’ve never been there in my life, he doesn’t let go of his hand, he holds it tightly. There are already “peoples” here, everyone needs to answer, laugh, console, bless. I stand, tightly pressed to my father’s hand, and continue to be perplexed. Suddenly I feel his other hand putting something into my hand, which he is holding and squeezing my fist. At first I don’t understand anything... oh, horror... “Father Vasily, what are you doing?!...”. He gently pushes me out of the sole with my clenched fist. I come down, stunned, and unclench my fist... Money. At that time this was a considerable amount for me. I go to Olya: “Father Vasily... I need... money... he confused me with someone else!!! Experienced Olya: “So what? He also gives it to me when I don’t have it." “You didn’t tell him anything about me?” “Yes, I didn’t say anything, he knows himself.”
Many years later I repaid the debt to my father. It was no longer possible to approach him, the “peoples” held their defense tightly, I handed over the debt in an envelope with a note. Since then, money has changed many times - crises, devaluation, but then I already got back on my feet (with Father’s prayers, of course) and put as much in the envelope as I could at that time. Most likely, this money of mine was squeezed into another fist a few minutes after being handed over to the addressee.
Winter 92-93. I don’t understand anything, everything is the same for me - the liturgy is over, but for some reason people are crowding around the “Tenderness”. I’m sitting on a bench, tired, I don’t understand anything. In my hands is a note that for some reason I did not give to the liturgy. The priest flies up, snatches the note, I rummage in my pockets, stick some last piece of money into his hand, he pushes it back into my palm and flies off to “Tenderness”. The prayer begins. Prayer service. Now I know that this is a prayer service, but then I didn’t know.
It’s still my first year with Father. Even then I tried to harden myself in order to get stronger and get sick less often. I went to the bathhouse. I took off the cross because it was hot in the steam room and forgot it on the hook. The next day, as if scalded, in horror, I went to the temple.
Father! Basil! I! Cross!! Lost!!! In ba-a-a-ne!...
He reaches into his deepest pocket.
Here you go.
He holds out an aluminum cross. Smiles.
It's a temptation, don't worry.
I didn’t wear my father’s cross for long; soon Olya Shmeleva gave me a silver one. Stupid, I’m stupid, and I don’t know where this priest’s cross went, I don’t remember. After all, he was more precious than all precious ones. If only I had known, if only I had known... But now, when people who are just as frightened by the loss of the cross come running to my shop, I reassure: “It’s a temptation, it’s not scary.” And I tell my story. Now almost everyone knows Father Vasily Ermakov or has heard of him. Simple story, but people immediately calm down, smile, buy a cross and part ways. Sometimes almost friends.
But his girlfriend really wanted to get married, and her parents were for it. My mother even came to convince me. I resisted with all my might, and Vanka wasn’t even very eager, but they had already bought him a suit for the wedding. Trouble.
I'm going to Father:
Oh, not good. Not good!
And the whole conversation.
Three days later, a certain incident occurred, and the bride, sharply disappointed in the groom, drove him away. The groom did not kill himself. True, he quickly found a new girlfriend, whom he later married, but this was already the end of the 4th year. The suit remained brand new until the wedding: Vanka wore nothing but jeans and a jacket.
It must be said that the quarrel between the lovers was not worth a damn. Of course, my dear Father upset the crazy idea with his prayer. I also didn’t understand it right away. When I started to think a little. And this has been more than a year...
The beginning of the nineties, but in the church there were no people to cross themselves or breathe a sigh: some kind of big holiday, winter. I’m standing at the lectern, squeezed from all sides. Someone feels bad, they pass holy water - a common story at our holidays. Suddenly a figure of a girl appears in front of me, no, it appears (like Yevtushenko’s - “did not appear, but arose”) - from where it is not clear: getting through to me was like breaking through a wall or walking through a wall like an angel. He doesn’t ask - he claims: “You are a doctor!” It's bad there''. He leads me through the crowd to the left door, which is always closed, but now it is open, and on the street there is some disturbance around the bench on which the woman is lying. Thank God, she has already come to her senses, she just fainted. There were no one I knew around, no one knew that I was a doctor. I also asked the girl how she knows I’m a doctor? And she: “I don’t know...” And she is six years old. The priest was serving, he was deep in the altar, with his back to us. The whole incident was silent and unnoticeable, except for the girl’s words. Maybe it was an angel? Father felt that something was wrong in our crowd and prayed. And this girl led me through the crowd like a boat on calm water - without any resistance... An angel?
Having gotten a little used to the temple, I began to understand the main horror of my life: Vanka is not baptized! It is useless to tell him: 18 years old, no one in the house even remembered God. In childhood and adolescence, I re-read the entire home library, which was quite good at that time, but by the age of 18 my interest was only in the Strugatskys, Lem and heavier science fiction to the sounds of metal rock. And this was my boy, who cried at the age of 9 over the first film about Vysotsky: “Mom, I’ll never see him!”... Now there was an idol Kinchev, an earring in his ear, black jeans, hiking boots (lace-up boots almost to the knees thick soles), wild shoulder-length hair, tied with a pirate scarf with skulls, rudeness, well, of course, in general... I missed Vanka with my personal problems. So what to say about baptism, and what to say: did you feel better after baptism? Of course, the Lord washed my soul from the dirt and stench of sins accumulated up to 42 years, but the tidied house was empty and a lot had already accumulated in it until I began to at least think of something. In general, I didn’t become a candle that is placed on a candlestick, I didn’t warm the sun, and my trips to church were regarded by Vanka, as well as by everyone around me: I was into religion - that’s the fashion now. Or the “attic” has gone. Therefore, when Father said: “Bring him,” I just grinned in my heart and sank, knowing that Vanka would never go. I don’t remember what I told him without any hope of success, but Vanka went! Without any resistance and immediately. He even dressed decently. Father took Vanka by the hand, took him away from me, and for a long time they talked about something between the icons “Recovery of the Dead” and “Tikhvin”. Father’s hand lay on Vanka’s shoulder. I still don’t know what Father was talking about. I decided that if he took Vanka away, then there was no point in interfering with me. Vanka then said enthusiastically: “What a strength Father Vasily has!” As soon as I put my hand on my shoulder, I hit the floor!” And Vanka is taller than Father by almost a head, and even then he was quite wider in the shoulders.
We didn’t talk more about Father, but he clearly made an impression on Vanya. This was expressed in the fact that Vanya soon decided to introduce his best friend Sasha to Father. I went to confession, and they followed me. This time both were in full “outfit”: scarves with skulls, earrings in the ear, hiking boots, etc... But they entered the temple modestly: they stood at the candle stand, and I went to confession to the Father at the icon of St. Nicholas the Wonderworker. There were few people, it was 93-94, weekdays. From the place of confession, two expressive figures in black were clearly visible.
Father Vasily, my Vanka has come... Father, it seems, was even a little taken aback by such beauty:
Listen... he's not ready yet...
Yes, he brought a friend - to look at you!
Ah... Well, let them stand...
But after confession, Father left to serve, and his friends did not last until the end of the service. So Sashka did not meet Father. But – I looked. During the Great Lent of 93, Olga Bobrova, my long-time employee and friend, came to Father. She was also brought by Olya Shmeleva, who needed a dental consultation. I recommended Olga to her. Thus, Olya Bobrova appeared in the church, who is now known to almost all church members in St. Petersburg, because she treats everyone’s teeth.
Two Olyas decided to give me a gift for my birthday - a pilgrimage trip to Pyukhtitsy. And in June 1993, Bobrova and I went to the monastery. There the nuns taught us how to pray so that the Lord would bring us to Baptism - Olya’s son was also unbaptized, like my Vanka. Having returned to St. Petersburg, we began to pray as we were taught. About a year passed, and Olin’s son received Baptism, but mine did not.
It was the beginning of Lent 95, March. Once after the Liturgy, Father asked that, if there was free time on weekdays, he could help clean the church so that it would shine by Easter. I then worked in the emergency room on shifts and could easily come on weekdays. She came, helped wash the lenses from the chandelier, and did something else. Suddenly Natasha the foreman comes up to me and says: “Come on, there is a very important job for you.” And she instructed me to clean the baptismal font. I tried so hard, rubbing, scrubbing, polishing. And how I loved this job! The font gradually began to shine, and by the end of the efforts it simply began to shine! In the middle of my labors, Father looked into the chapel. Me, all smeared with paste and happy:
Father! And here I am cleaning the font!
A! Let's…
I cleaned the font for about three hours, no less. Natasha praised me, I went home happy: such an honorable task was assigned and how well it turned out! The next day I am sitting in a chair, reading something spiritual. Immediately my Vanka is spinning, I say:
If only you were baptized, I would at least submit notes for you in church... the church does not pray for the unbaptized.
OK. I'll be baptized!
For you.
I grabbed him, and the next morning we were already in the neighboring temple - Elijah the Prophet. I was afraid I wouldn’t make it to Serafimovsky. Moreover, Father told Olga that when her son was ripe, he should take him to the nearest temple, which she did. I did the same.
So, the Sacrament of Baptism took place. I read the Creed; there was no one else: none of those being baptized or godparents knew it - a common story for the early 90s.
Archpriest Vasily Ermakov. Blessing of water.
Already on the way home Vanka complained of chills. The temperature was measured at home: 41 degrees!!! And the silver cross that I bought for him in the church just before Epiphany was jet black! Vanya had a fever for a day, but the next morning he got up healthy and went to college. I cleaned the cross, it became light and shiny again. Father called demons “these guys.” This is how the “guys” spanked my Vanya for Baptism. And one of my friends, Serafimovskaya, had a son, also already an adult, who, after Baptism, almost broke all the furniture. And he calmed down. Soon Vanya took his friend Sasha to Epiphany, whom he took to see Father.
17 years have passed since then. Unfortunately, Vanya did not join the church. He reads the Gospel, got married (in his second marriage), and baptized his three sons. He comes into the temple to light candles. Of course, I would like my son to come to God safe, and not, like me, to crawl on his stomach. But the Lord knows better which way to lead sinners and how to admonish such worthless mothers as me. What is worthy according to our deeds is acceptable, remember us, O Lord, in Thy Kingdom!
But Father Vanya only had one more time. He was separated from his first wife. I told Father:
Vanka's wife left...
Why, did he offend you, or what?
Yes, he wants to live separately, but she only wants to live with her mother...
Well, let him live with his mother!
And Vanka?
And let him live with you. Like this. I must say that when Vanka was about to enter into his first marriage, I told Father:
Vanka was going to get married...
Where will they get married?
Let them not get married, the family there is unbelieving.
A! Well, let them live...
We lived. 4 years with breaks. But when the final break happened, Vanya went to the priest. Voluntarily, but with me. Already in normal clothes, an adult, intelligent-looking young man with glasses. Hikings, earrings and other attributes of youth were forgotten. Vanya worked in a large company and was already a boss, but he looked depressed - it was not sweet when the family fell apart. This time Father didn’t take him anywhere and didn’t send me away. But Father spoke not at all on the topic that worried Vanya. Father said:
You, Vanya, take care of your mother. You keep reading books, books... Take care of your mother (I never told Father that Vanka was a voracious reader.) And not a word about divorce or his wife. At that time, our relationship with Vanya began to deteriorate, but then it was not clear to me: all the big problems were still ahead. Father, as always, saw everything ahead.
Three years later Vanya married again. They got married, and I boasted to Father. It was on the path from the kitchen to the temple, where we Lately They caught Father. And Father waved his hand and pointed to a small, unhappy-looking parishioner of ours, who, it seemed, was complaining about his family life:
Ahh... Look, he got married too!
When my new daughter-in-law was about to give birth, I went to Father:
Father! My daughter-in-law is giving birth, please pray!
What temple does she go to?
Yes, they live in Metallostroy... In Alexander Nevsky...
Let them pray for her there!
He cut it off and went from the chapel to the temple.
I, a little dumbfounded, run after:
Well, then at least pray for Vanka and me...
I'll pray for you! Father, dear, how we miss you!!! Pray for us!
I got ahead of myself by starting the story about Vanya’s Baptism. Let's go back to the early 90s.
As I already mentioned, spiritual literature had just begun to appear, more in the form of brochures. There was no father’s famous little blue prayer book then. Olya Shmeleva gave me a thin prayer book with explanations, and later I bought myself a pocket prayer book. This prayer book contained prayers for Communion, and even then not all of them, but there was no complete rule. I read these prayers and went to Communion. True, she fasted - (Olya taught).
Once, in the right aisle, Father and I were alone - those who came in the mid-to-late nineties probably cannot imagine such a picture; everyone remembers how the aisle then burst at the seams, not figuratively, but literally. Father asks, pointing to the middle of his chest:
Well, has it become easier?
I am unsure:
Have you prepared for Communion?
Yes, I don’t really know how to prepare...
But Father didn’t turn me down, my stupidity was much clearer to him than to me...
Migraines have always been a problem for me. If I don’t eat in the morning, I’ll definitely get a migraine. But there was always a life-saving pill at hand. However, you won’t take pills before Communion. But somehow I adapted. But, one day, in December 1993 (I have an associative memory - for example, I remember that I was working in a new emergency room then, what clothes I wore to church, what hat I pulled over my sore forehead, etc. - so everyone says that I have good memory, I just calculate time from accompanying events and circumstances) - so: it was in December 93 - I was going to Communion and my head began to be drilled and sawed while still on the subway. There was a fear that now he would start to feel sick, then it would get even worse, etc., as always - those who suffer from migraines can imagine its development. In general, when I came to the temple, the picture had already unfolded in all its glory and I had only one thought - just to make it to Communion. And so Father brings out the cup, the people bow to the ground, but I stand like a pillar, because I can’t even bow my head due to the terrible surge of nausea. Fear and horror. I can still hear the priest’s voice: “Come with the fear of God and faith!”
But I could only find the door and ran out to the nearest tree. Uncontrollable vomiting and head-wrenching pain did not allow me to move even further from the temple. How I got home and the rest of my medical history is not about that anymore. A few days later I told Father about my trouble. It was very embarrassing and scary. And Father is completely calm:
Nothing... It's from you comes out. You come to me on weekdays. The service is shorter, there are few people, and everything will be fine.
Therefore, I went to church on weekdays for a long time, and only received communion on weekdays - for several years. I used to ask on Saturday at the all-night vigil during the anointing:
Father, will you be there on Monday?
What are you saying, mother, you have to live...
Since then, I’ve been saying this when people ask me about the future, even the very near future.
All-night vigil. Everyone is in line to be anointed. Back then the queue was not very thick - not like a trickle, but like a river - not a pressing crowd. But I can’t - women will understand why. I’m standing at the “Collection of the Dead.” I looked - the priest was coming, even then he did not anoint completely, he passed the brush to another priest. I'll meet you:
Father, I......I’m not allowed to be anointed...
I'll anoint you!
He removes the oil from his forehead with his finger and smears it with a cross on mine.
She brought an employee to the temple, who was always more or less sick with something. Today she has a migraine, she doesn’t want to take the pill or it didn’t help her - I don’t remember.
Father, this is Nina, her head hurts a lot...
Let's go...
He takes us both to the salt, goes to the altar, brings out the oil, anoints Nina’s forehead. Nina came to our church for the first and last time, but Father never refused anyone, as if it was not evening, and there was no fatigue. Always cheerful, always generous with love, everything is ready, everything is easy for him... Father’s fatigue became noticeable literally in the last weeks of his life, at least to me, who had never been in his immediate circle or in close communication with those who were in this environment. I was always on the periphery, and the further I went, the more peripheral, because the parish grew exponentially and we, the “old ones,” were being wiped out by the new ones, among whom there were already many young, strong and assertive.
Things weren't as smooth as they seem now. I had a break from visiting our church for a year and a half. In a nutshell: for a long time I could not understand why Father is such an opponent of the West. After all, I am from the Soviet intelligentsia, and we were all brought up on the idea that the West is freedom, which we were deprived of all our lives. From there, literature and art and human rights, etc., etc. And religion there was never oppressed, not like in our country. We were all theorists and dreamers. But here Father says something completely different. About Russia, about its greatness, about the fact that Orthodoxy is the only true religion, but collapse has come to Russia from the West and it will be even worse. This was not clear to me then, and somehow, having made up my mind, I expressed my opinion in a nutshell in Father’s ear about... well, I won’t elaborate, it doesn’t matter to me now, and I completely agree with Father. Time, of course, showed who was right, but then I got:
Out loud. And the explanation why is stupid.
This happened near the wall of the temple on the left, the priest walked out of his door and headed to the area in front of the temple. He was surrounded by a flock of aunties who did not hear my words, but heard the “fool” and began to shout in unison, confirming the priest’s opinion of me. I wouldn’t be offended by my father’s “fool,” I tried to explain something to him, but the friendly hubbub of the aunties stopped my attempts, and I walked quietly forward, carefully examining the bows on my green shoes. It was June 1996. So I walked away. And she left.
For a year and a half I lived without Father and Seraphim Church. The need to go to church had already formed, and I was looking for a church and a spiritual father. Most of all I liked the Prince Vladimir Cathedral.
I also went to the Chesme Church. Sometimes to the Temple of Elijah the Prophet. But I wasn’t focused, I skipped Sundays and went more in the evening. I left my job, left practical medicine, and found a very well-paid job in paramedicine. I improved financially, bought myself clothes and other things that I couldn’t even dream of while working in the emergency room. Vanya got married, Danka was born - my first grandson. Danka was baptized at home. The priest who baptized Danka sadly looked around the apartment and did not see a single icon (the young family lived with Natasha’s parents, Vanya’s wife, there were no believers there, although everyone was baptized). When I had to read the Creed, I read it. Father was quite surprised, but praised:
Well done grandma, how do you know?
Yes, I... go to church...
Then there was lunch, I sat with Father Nikolai and talked to him a little, asked something, said that I had stopped going to Father Vasily. Father Nikolai is a relative of my daughter-in-law, he was ordained not so long ago, from the engineering intelligentsia. He served (and still serves) in the monastery of John of Kronstadt. This was in mid-December 1996. I haven’t been to Serafimovsky for six months. Then there was another year of my wanderings around churches, the loss of a well-paid job, an attempt to start my own business, which was not very successful.
Although I liked some priests, their sermons, which satisfied my intellectual quest, churches in which it was free and spacious, I could not find a place for myself anywhere. For a year and a half I never took communion. More and more often I began to remember the Seraphim Church, Father walking around it with a censer at the all-night vigil, the icons of Father Seraphim, “Seeking the Lost.” I'm back. I just came to work. Father did not react at all. It’s as if I didn’t even see it. I was amazed how the number of parishioners increased. Such density has never existed before, even on major holidays. All faces are unfamiliar. There are a lot of young people, a lot more men. Father was already in an unattainable distance, and young guys appeared to guard Father. I felt like a complete stranger. But I already understood for sure that as long as Father exists, and as long as I exist, I don’t need another church, and only Father’s prayer is needed. It was early December 1997. I attended the services a little and decided to go to confession and receive communion.
It was December 25, 1997. Early in the morning I tried for a long time to lift myself by my hair, then I lay down again, reassuring myself that it was okay: I won’t go today, I’ll go on Sunday. And it was Friday, which means there will be a lot of people on the transport, and how far is it from the Black River to church and, in general, then to work until late in the evening, and it’s freezing outside, no, today it won’t work out, so I’ll gather my strength etc.
Got up. Let's go. Father did not express in any way that he noted my appearance; the confession was general. I took communion. Oh, what joy there was! The wings definitely grew, and I didn’t even fly to work, but soared. I remained in grace all day and flew home on the same wings at 11 pm.
The door to my apartment was broken into and sealed. Still not understanding anything, I called my neighbors. Frightened neighbors said they saw my door broken open at 12 noon. They were afraid to come in, they were afraid to see my corpse. The police were called, who determined that the apartment had been robbed and sealed the door. Everything that I bought for myself during a year and a half of free life in paramedicine was stolen. Even a telephone and a kettle. Thank God it was bitterly cold and I was in new fur coat and boots, so the Lord saved what was most necessary. It was terribly cold in the apartment: the balcony was wide open, through which the thieves threw in blankets what could not be broken. All that was left was furniture and books. I called Vanya, he came from Kupchino, but the police had not arrived yet, and Vanya and I cried behind the sealed door for Kuza, my beloved cat, who did not respond to our desperate calls. We decided that the thieves had killed Kuzya, and I sent Vanya to look for the corpse under the balcony. Vanya didn’t find the corpse, but he brought 2 heavy crowbars, which they used to break down the door and would probably have broken my head if I hadn’t gone to Communion. This is how “these guys” took revenge on me for returning to Father. But I remained alive, and when the police left and everything calmed down, a completely stunned Kuzya crawled out of some crevice. And Vanka and I were comforted. And I didn’t particularly mind the junk. I bought some things right away - my friends helped me, and then I slowly collected enough for life.
I didn’t tell Father about this criminal story for some time, something was holding me back, I understood that I got what I deserved: I left Father, my pride had eaten away. After some time she finally said:
Father, while I was going to Communion, I was robbed...
Why steal? You already have nothing!
Well... we found something... He looked deep into me, even a little harshly:
Are you completely stupid, or what?
Well, what can you answer here, I have already begun to understand a little.
My “second series” began in the Seraphim Church. Father became practically unavailable. I was already standing at the “Recovery of the Dead”, sometimes I managed to sit on a bench near the coat rack or cling to the eve.
There were so many unfamiliar faces that familiar ones appeared as inclusions. I began to feel even more new than I did 5 years ago. The new ones are always more lively, there were many of them, they were confident in themselves and in their right to Father. Then they disappeared somewhere, others appeared, also confident and stood tightly at the pulpit. But I didn’t care anymore: my search was over, I knew for sure that as long as Father was alive and as long as I was alive, no force could drag me away from Serafimovsky. I began to understand what prayer is, and that there would be no such prayer as Father’s anywhere, and where to stand, whether at the pulpit or on the street, no longer mattered if Father served at the altar. Then we broadcast it and it even became very nice on the street.
Father surrounded by loving children
Indeed, the presence of Father in the temple was always felt, even if he was nowhere to be seen. The all-night vigil was usually started by some other priest, but the presence or absence of Father in the church - whether in the depths of the altar or in the kitchen - was almost tangible. You come to the all-night vigil, let’s say Father Vyacheslav is serving, but you feel that Father is here, and indeed, suddenly: “Var-vaa-ra! Or his frequent: “Come on!”, or something else, you can’t hear what, but Father’s voice mutters something and warms your soul. And other times you immediately feel that Father is gone. And not because the service is worse, our services have always been good, but...
There is no father...
Confessions were now always general, this confused me - because I have little faith. But I almost always wrote my sins on a piece of paper and showed it to Father so that he would remember that this is what it looks like, my piece of paper, and Father nodded in agreement before my sins disappeared into the common bag. But one time it was different. I desperately needed to speak out and, having written my sin on a piece of paper, I decided that I definitely had to speak out loud. Therefore, I went on a weekday, and there were very few people. I stand and think about how to express this more clearly and briefly, and so that it would not be so embarrassing. And Father immediately called me over:
When did you confess?
Then...
Why didn’t you confess for so long?
My cat was sick...
Before I had time to look back, I was already standing outside the door - Father kicked me out of the chapel:
They don’t exchange God for cats!!! Go pray!!!
So she flew out with her written and unspoken sin clenched in her fist. But I stand next to the chapel and look through the open door - maybe he’ll return it? And from there lightning:
Don't look! Pray!!! What kind of prayer is there... I’ll look again, and from there:
Tell her not to look! (This is to the aunt who was on hand and may be seeing me for the first time).
Father often called as witnesses those who were at hand, often even random “passers-by.” I remember, and as I walked, he complained about the reader, who was guiltily trailing behind Father: “Now I’ll make him bow!” And I had just started going to church; to me, every reader looked like a metropolitan. So, I stand there, praying. It’s already Communion, and I still haven’t spoken out. The priest left the chapel (he did not serve that day, he only confessed and talked with the “peoples”). I go to him:
Father, did you completely kick me out, or?... Eyebrows like a “house”: -
I’m not kicking anyone out, but I’m lying! But the lightning is gone, the eyes are laughing.
Father, well... at least give your blessing to go to work... He laughed completely, hugged him tightly:
Go, mother! Horses die from work, but you and I never do!
She carried away her sin in her fist. Yes, Father knew everything - all my sins: written, unwritten, unconscious, and not yet done...
And I’ve been thinking for a long time that maybe Father kicked me out not for the cat, but for this very sin he imposed a penance, or for my lack of faith - I wanted it - get it!
Usually Father did not give his blessing when we went on vacation to receive communion where we were going. But one day my vacation coincided with the Dormition Lent and I went to Gagra. I explained the situation to Father, and he said:
Go and swim in the sea! There you will receive communion.
When I left, I took Father’s book “In the Name of the Salvation of Russia” with me, let me think I’ll give it to the priest in Gagra, brag about what Father we have, and do something nice for him. The first time I went to the Transfiguration was the all-night vigil. The temple in Gagra stands in a hollow, low, tiny, very poor. There it is customary to light a huge number of candles - to each saint for each family member. Considering that the sun is 40 degrees, the roof is almost red-hot, the fires of candles are blazing, there are no windows, only a small door is open - in general, the temperature in the temple is 200 degrees Celsius, your brain is boiling. Evening confession is, of course, individual. Before confession, the priest said a very long sermon, in which, among other things, he denounced the shamelessness of those who come on vacation, who lie on the beach, and even in swimsuits (!), in general, shame and idleness. But I was the only one of the vacationers; there were mostly local grannies, from whom I, of course, was very different in skin color and dress and probably a different expression on my face. Well, as always, in the south, visitors differ from the local population. Of course, my dress is long and I have a scarf on my head, but the stranger and the priest paid attention to me. The turn came to confess, she laid out everything, not sparing her stomach. Received penance - 40 prostrations! And with my back, even if I do 3-4, I’ll have to rest for a week on painkillers and ointments. That’s what I told the local priest: after all, I’m not at home, my back is jammed, what will I do alone? To which the strict priest said that the monks even make 500. I also hesitantly said that my spiritual father specifically sent me to swim in the sea, and if you can’t go to the beach, then why did I come here? Well, if that’s the case, take a bath, but if you don’t bow right away, you can break it into pieces. In conclusion, I presented priest Batyushkin with a book. He opened it, saw the photo and said:
Blessed!... When you leave, I will definitely write him a letter, tell him when you go.
The next day I came to work. Of course, it’s very hot, it’s hard, but with God's help I didn’t melt, I didn’t faint, I took communion. Before communion, she admitted that she only made 3 bows, but was allowed in with the understanding that I would complete the remaining 37 later during the holidays. In our St. Seraphim Church, with all the people there, the service ended at about 12 o’clock, well, if the prayer service was large, then by one or half past two in extreme cases. It was not here in Gagra. After the service, the priest left for about 40 minutes, but did not bless us to leave. Everyone remained sitting on small benches. The delicious smell of fried fish wafted through the temple and the tiny courtyard. But we, the communicants, neither ate nor drank in the morning.
But all the parishioners are sitting, waiting - I’m waiting too, especially since the priest has not yet given the cross. Finally the priest came out, it was about one o'clock in the afternoon, and... the sermon began. It was all dedicated to tax identification numbers and passports, which should never be taken. With terrible examples that made local parishioners scream and groan. I didn’t know where to put my face with its “uncommon expression.” I didn’t dare to leave, it would have been a clear challenge: the priest remembered me well. Some girl squealed that her bus was leaving and there wouldn’t be another one until tomorrow, but the priest reprimanded her so threateningly, and even threatened, that the poor thing was left almost in tears. I don’t know how she then got through the mountains. Only at three o'clock was the sermon finished and the half-dead parishioners crawled to the Cross. It turns out that permanent parishioners in Gagra did not change their passports and did not take an INN. I don’t know how they existed. After all, to get to Adler, you have to cross the border - passports were checked very carefully at the border. All products were brought to Gagra from Adler - again across the border. But I was worried about something else - and very much. I gave priest Batyushkin a book where the position of our Church regarding the exaggerated problems with the Taxpayer Identification Number (TIN) is very clearly expressed. And Father’s sermon on this topic was there. And I promised the local priest that I would definitely pass on his letter to our Father with a review of the book. I am an obligatory person and I simply could not not come. In general, the vacation was spoiled by doubts and perplexities about how to get out of this problem, which I myself had created: I had to brag about what a wonderful spiritual father I have. But I didn’t take my spiritual father’s blessing to give his book. It seemed to me that the Gagra priest, having read the book, would write to my dear father, and what should I do with this letter - I couldn’t read it, I wouldn’t dare give it away either. Oh-ho-ho... I went to the Assumption, and there will be departure soon. I begged the Lord to persuade the Gagra priest to forget everything, or so that he would not read the book, or so that he would forget about the letter, or so that he would forget me.” Lord, let him forget everything, let him not write anything, Lord, save me from this situation, help me get out. If only he didn’t send any letters!”
God bless! Most likely the Gagra priest did not read the book. He only asked when I was leaving, and we said goodbye forever. Without any letters!!! Now I think: “My dear father, you are a seer, you knew where you were blessing me!” I also learned in practice what penance is (I never finished bowing, otherwise I would have had to be carried on a cart to the plane), and in practice I learned that fussing with the Taxpayer Identification Number is not a pound of raisins, and what an extraordinary Father we have, and what an extraordinary temple we have. And that there is no point in looking around, but looking only at Father, doing everything as he orders - there is no better place anywhere.
And now that Father has left, sometimes I can’t even believe how happy we were, how loved we were. Thank you, Lord, for this.
It was as if my soul was in pain for a long time. Father was away. And everything spins and spins me. I went to one temple, I wanted to talk - come on Wednesday. In another - come tomorrow. She didn’t go anywhere else, she was patient, Father arrived, and everything turned out okay with his prayers. Father never sent without help. He will only hear one word, take you by the hand, lead you around the temple, talking with others, comforting others, not you. Sometimes he will tell you to come to a prayer service. Once he even took me into the kitchen: -
He placed it right at the entrance to the altar and said, as was his custom, to the first candlestick girl who caught his eye:
Treat her!
She just sat down:
Calm down!
And he went to the altar.
The girl remained embarrassed, and I began to calm down.
Another time I started whining that I needed to talk.
Come early tomorrow before confession.
It was winter, getting from Rzhevka was difficult and long, because you had to walk across a snow-covered field to the first metro train. We had to leave an hour before the train, i.e. at 4:45. Even when you feel good, it was difficult, and when you are sad and your legs can’t hold you up... But what can you do? I've arrived. She sat in the corner of the aisle. Father confesses. But me, as if not. Only occasionally approached, and then left again. Sitting. Everyone cares, but not me. I look at the chandelier and delve into dark thoughts.
So she sat until the “Our Father”, and after the “Our Father” Father, as you know, does not confess. He took the Cross, the Gospel, well, everything - leaves. We talked... He turns around, comes close to me and sternly, almost harshly:
Think!! And pray!
And he left the side-chapel. I followed:
Father... I pray...
And then it became clear in my head that I wasn’t praying at all. And the brains fell into place.
By the way, about brains. This was in 1994 and I should have written earlier, but I only remembered now. There was still very little spiritual literature then. I got the book “The Experience of Constructing a Confession” by Father John Krestyankin to read after it had probably been in hundreds of hands and was falling apart into worn-out pieces of paper. I read it one evening and was absolutely horrified by the fact that there was no sinless place in me. What seemed to be the norm of life turns out to be a mortal sin, and what seemed to be a virtue was exactly the opposite. The next day I rushed to Father in complete horror, the hair on my head stood on end. Father even seemed scared:
Mother, what are you doing??
Ya-a... off-ta-la-a... Peasant-a!
Ahh! What did you think? Eyes wow!! (showed his hands widely vertically), wow, brains!! (spread his arms to their full length horizontally).
But he allowed me to take Communion. Today I remember how, stunned, in a woolen scarf on my head (I forgot the thin scarf at home, I had no time for that), I left Father and for a long time came to my senses from the horror I had experienced on the one hand and from the relief that my sins had been forgiven.
Of course, intellectual brains, which I proudly considered to be my property, as well as wit, criticism, and mockery, were one of my main troubles in life. Because of them, I fell so deeply that only with the help of Father and his prayers, literally breaking off my nails until they bled, I crawled out of this hole for so many years and am still crawling out of this hole.
Alla Ivanovna, my father’s long-time parishioner, died. I wasn't very close to her, but I knew her well. She was sick for a long time, but never lost heart, and I still managed to calm her down regarding her illness with medical noodles, which I successfully hung on her ears. Alla Ivanovna was a very pure and trusting person and willingly believed, more, of course, due to her easy optimistic character than my masterly lies, but she listened to me with interest. And the disease finally won.
We are standing around the coffin at the funeral service, and Father says to me:
She’s already feeling good, and you’re still tumbling!
Let's tumble, Father. Without you, how difficult it is to tumble! Pray for us!
In 2000, I spent my vacation in the Pushkin Mountains. And everything was so successful that the fullness of this vacation accompanied me throughout the next year. Moreover, it was decorated with correspondence with G.N. Vasilevich - director of the Reserve. He is a very talented person, he sent me books and booklets, accompanying them with funny poems of his own composition and serious reprimands regarding my amateurish criticism of what I did not like in the new approach to understanding the essence of the Pushkin Museum. I kept remembering S.S. Geichenko, and Georgy Nikolaevich tried to convince me that in new times - new approaches, etc., he initiated me into development plans, in general, he appreciated my concern and sincere interest and was very indulgent and friendly, inviting me to come. And in the summer of 2001, I planned a vacation only in the Pushkin Mountains. Once after confession, without doubting anything, I even somehow formally asked for my father’s blessing for this trip. But Father remained silent. I waited a little, thought he didn’t hear, so I asked again. He somehow cut me off, which seemed inappropriate to ask now. I waited, asked again - Father, as if he didn’t hear, passed by.
I didn’t even realize that Father hadn’t given his blessing yet, so I had to wait. I decided that the trip was not far, I already had a ticket, my soul was eager to go to the Pushkin Mountains. I went.
What a vacation it was! Firstly, there was no room in the hotel (despite the fact that last year it was half empty). I had to stay in the village in some kind of shed that didn’t even have a window. Secondly. An insane heat began, the roof of the shed was heating up, and it was 40 degrees inside, a little less at night. Due to the heat, there were so many horseflies that even at 12 o’clock at night it was impossible to undress to take a dip in Soroti. Walking around the reserve was also unbearable because of these horse flies. The funny thing is that Georgy Nikolaevich, whom I really wanted to see, urgently left for St. Petersburg in the morning of the day the evening of which I arrived. They said 7-10 days. I returned from St. Petersburg sick and was on sick leave until the end of my vacation. Naturally, I didn’t have the impudence to go on a visit to a sick person I knew only through correspondence. The guide, with whom we had a wonderful relationship last year, met me like a stranger this year. But I didn’t completely despair, because a friend and her husband were supposed to arrive by car, and I hoped that we would at least travel around the neighborhood. I waited for them for 10 days - I called the day before their arrival - they said they wouldn’t come.
I decided to leave - there were no tickets. The funny thing is that there were no remedies for horseflies in the pharmacy; you had to either sit in a hot shed or endure their attacks. And then I got sick and stayed sick until I left. I barely lost my legs. So I went on vacation without my father’s blessing. And even though we later met with Georgy Nikolaevich in St. Petersburg, and he invited me to come several times, with the understanding that I would live in a guest house with all the amenities, but I remembered the three weeks of torment, and I no longer wanted anything. And then the correspondence faded away. It's a pity.
After this vacation, I took Father’s blessing for every step.
And he never refused. There was even such a case: I ask for a blessing to work in an Orthodox shop - I have already retired.
Let's! Then I found out how little they paid, and decided to return to the pharmacy.
Father, they pay so little...
Well, don't work for them!
Will I go back to the pharmacy?
Let's! While Father was alive, I continued to work in a pharmacy, and for another 5 years, when I was retired, I worked. Father left - and I was “gone.”
At the end of 2005, Father visited the Holy Land for the second time in his life. When he returned, he blessed everyone to visit Christ’s land over the coming year. He, together with his spiritual children in Jerusalem, created the “Russia in Colors” pilgrimage center there. As the head of this center and our permanent guide Pavel later told me, the name was invented by Father. “Russia in colors”, precisely in colors, because abroad, during the years of Soviet power, they got used to considering Russia as something gray and pale, like an old colorless photograph.
Having never, even in my best years, had any savings, I immediately, as Father blessed me, therefore, with no doubt about success, signed up for the trip first and quickly convinced my friend. Already in March 2006 we visited the Holy Land. I won’t talk about the shock of this pilgrimage, because those who have been there know it themselves, and those who have not been there yet must visit it themselves. Let me just say that when we landed in Tel Aviv, I couldn’t put my mind to the fact that I was - and suddenly - here? How could this happen? When we landed in St. Petersburg, I realized even at the airport that I would return, and very soon, otherwise I simply would not be able to live. After all, I was so shocked that tears flowed all the time and such a huge shock confused everything in my head, and it was beyond my power to bear the fact that I could not put everything in its place. And what? In November I flew to the Holy Land again. If someone had told me even a year before that I would not only visit the Holy Land, but even twice in a year, I would have considered it just a tactless joke. In theory, there was no money for one trip. According to Father’s prayers, everything was possible and not even difficult at all.
During the first trip, in the Spaso-Voznesensky Monastery on the Mount of Olives, in the chapel of the Holy Prophet and Forerunner John, which stands on the site of the discovery of the head of the Baptist of the Lord, nun Christina, who is obedient in this chapel, very interestingly told us the story of the discovery of the Holy Head. During the second trip, I talked to her and asked her to tell this group as much as she told us the first time. But this time we were limited by time, because it was the end of November, and at this time of year it gets dark early in Jerusalem, but we arrived in the evening. Mother Christina told me, although not in such detail, but she already told me about herself, that she was an Arab, that she had been in the monastery for 50 years, and they took her at the age of 10. She has an excellent Russian language, real, not Soviet, but some kind of even Bunin. I really liked Mother Christina, but she probably also took a liking to me, because when we said goodbye and were leaving the monastery, I suddenly heard: “Natasha! Natasha! I looked around and saw Mother Christina running after us in the darkness in flowing robes. He runs up to me and asks so simply, as if I don’t live on the other side of the Earth: “Natasha, when you come next time, bring me the icon of St. Prince Vladimir, because when I was in St. Petersburg, I bought St. Olga , but I didn’t find St. Vladimir.” I expressed doubt that I would return, but I promised to send the icon with another group. Our pilgrims, witnesses of this scene, unanimously began to convince me that I would definitely return. If Mother Christina singled me out, it means it’s for a reason, it means I’ll come back. I sent the icon a month later. Christina called me and thanked me. She said that she hung it in the chapel of John the Baptist!!!
Sister Christina and Natalya Smirnova in the Chapel of the Finding of the Head of St. John the Baptist
in the Ascension Monastery on the Mount of Olives
November 17, 2006 Pilgrimage group from St. Petersburg to Jerusalem.
It was difficult for me to even somehow get caught up in the consciousness that my icon was hanging in the chapel on Mount of Olives... But, looking ahead a year and a half: everything happened as my companions convinced me: I was again in the Holy Land. I walked into the chapel of John the Baptist with some trepidation... But as soon as I entered, I immediately saw my icon hanging on the left wall... What miracles! The group was different than last time, not from our church, so no one knew the background story, and Mother Christina was not in the chapel this time. At first I didn’t want to reveal my secret to anyone, but, naturally, I couldn’t resist, because I was so tempted to brag, and I whispered to one young man that this was my icon. He, of course, immediately called everyone in joy, and gasps and respectful admiration began. I was photographed in front of the icon. And then Christina appeared, confirming this almost incredible story. What a miracle it is. This was, of course, a gift from Father already FROM THERE. He had passed away the year before. He died two months after I returned from my second pilgrimage to Jerusalem.
From my first trip I brought incense to Father. During the second trip, I was looking for something to give to Father, and one of our parishioners from Seraphim, who was closer to Father, recommended that I bring him myrrh: they say it is needed at funeral services and there are problems. I bought myrrh and gave it to Father, telling him in complete delight that I had visited the Holy Land for the second time in a year.
Father looked at me strangely and took the gift. Two months later we buried him. Frankincense and myrrh... Nothing just happens. I remember the last look of Father... I remember the last look of Fr. Anatoly... Of course, I didn’t know that this was the last one...
I will write about Father Anatoly separately. He served in our church for about 5 years, but he was loved very much. He went with me to my relatives twice to baptize and give communion. They were completely weak and could not be dragged to the temple, but Father Anatoly was reliable. The kingdom of heaven be upon him, at the age of 34 the Lord called him.
I was about to finish my little notes and suddenly I remembered some other episodes.
Father passes from the prayer service past me to the pulpit. And I have such love for him that I can’t hide my tenderness:
Father, our beauty!
The priest turns half a turn, makes a face, poses:
He was handsome!
Everyone knows that Father gave Communion for the last time before Great Lent at Candlemas. I either worked or was sick - I don’t remember, but I disobeyed. I went the next day. I left, as was usual then, at 4:45 and hopped on the first train to the metro. It was very cold and there was a terrible snowstorm. I was wearing a long fur coat and a rather funny but warm sheepskin hat. It was funny in color - some kind of deep orange and even more in style: a cap a la the 20s with bombs. But I liked her for her ridiculousness. I didn’t wear it to church, only when it was “out”, and then depending on my mood. But this time I put it on because of the cold: I could pull it over my nose, and I had to walk an hour to the metro in a snowstorm. Well, it thawed out in the metro, but by the time I got from the “Old Village” to the temple, it turned into a snowdrift again. There were already a lot of people, she somehow shook herself off and began to squeeze through to Father, but forgot about her hat. Those. She didn’t tie herself with a scarf, but she was just so stylish and suitable for Father. Father was dumbfounded:
And at a later date, Father Sergius confessed, Father served.
That’s how I ended up with Father Sergius.
A few words about the death of Father. On Thursday, February 1, 2007, they called me and said that Father had lost consciousness and was hospitalized. They told me to pray. I prayed, but somehow shallowly: the fact that Father would be gone didn’t fit in my head. Early in the morning on Saturday, February 3, Ira Savvateeva called and said that our Father was not there.
Let's go with Larisa to the temple. There was a thaw and there were puddles. There was already a line to the chapel, but Father had not yet been brought. Sveta Belova said:
Now Father will be available to everyone...
Then they brought Father and we began to leave. While we were standing in line, it was somehow not even sad. There was no loss felt. When I entered the chapel, tears began to flow here... Father’s hands were as white, soft and slightly plump as in life. AND WARM. On February 5 there was a funeral service. It was cold and snowing. We stood for several hours under the snow, shoulder to shoulder and turned into some kind of snow-capped mountains. Then they carried Father out, we walked far, I saw the coffin only periodically. Our flowers are frozen.
When they lowered Father into the grave and began throwing ice clods of earth, the snow suddenly stopped, the sun came out, and birds flew up from the trees. I remember almost nothing after Father left and until the time I came to the Panteleimon Church for Father Sergius in early June, that is, 4 months after Father’s death. I don’t remember Easter, not a single holiday. I only remember that as soon as I entered the temple, tears began to flow.
All four months. No Father, no Father... I don’t know what would have happened if Father Sergius had not been transferred to the Panteleimon Church. I probably would have stopped crying, I don’t know. But all these years after the death of Father, if I sometimes go to the Seraphim Church, I begin to cry. Such a dear church, such beloved icons, Father Seraphim, “Seeking the Lost”... But I feel empty. But it all started here, and 15 years of my life, the most important years of my life, passed here. Maybe because they passed...
“Never return to the same places...” Father Seraphim, forgive me. You see everything.
And one last thing. Twice I helped in cleaning the temple for Easter. In 1995, I cleaned the font, and a day later Vanya was baptized. In 2006, I came to help, and Natasha the foreman said that I was late, so the font had already been given away (after all, I remembered!). And she directed me to clean the chapel. Two new women were already working there; they didn’t know anything yet, and Natasha asked me to try. We tried our best. They scrubbed both the floor and the walls. They washed all the icons, Natasha showed how to handle the icons. The chapel sparkled. And a few months later our Father was lying in it. Usually the chapel was closed. Undoubtedly, before bringing Father, they cleaned it up. But of course, since they didn’t scrape before Easter. Then I cleaned the font for Vanya, now I scrubbed the chapel for Father. I brought incense and myrrh to Father...
Nothing just happens like that. Everything is wonderfully intertwined, God's Providence is everywhere.
Now Father is available to everyone. I don't go to see him often. Sometimes the Belovs will be driven after the service. Sometimes we go to funeral services with Father Sergius. Of course, when there is some kind of trouble. But in June, on white nights, I like to come to Father alone in the evening. Sometimes the cemetery is already closed, but the guard allows you to visit Father. I’ll pray alone, remember, tell him everything and go, as if after confession. Joy, lightness, purity. And I hear:
Well, what, mother? Feel better?
Take it easy, Father! The Kingdom of Heaven to you, our dear!
So it turned out to be all about me. But otherwise I don't know how to write. On the other hand, writing narratively about Father, what he was like, about his wonderful soul, mind, his life - can only be written by someone who was with him all the time. I was always in the crowd, in the distance, I was one of the thousands of those for whom Father lived. And I remember, naturally, Father, when I had to come into contact with him, these were moments, minutes, but only I know these moments and minutes. And they are from my life, they are mine.
">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">">"> ">When the tragedy happened on the Kursk submarine, I told you: “The reason for the tragedy is this: apparently, one of the wives, seeing their husbands off on a campaign, cursed them!”
And today the wife of the division chief of staff, captain first rank Vladimir Tikhonovich Bagryantsev, came to see me from there, and we asked her. Yes, that’s how it was: after their husbands sailing out to sea, they hurled cruel words...
These wives, of course, are far from God. They were tired of waiting for their husbands to return - they were planning divorces. And imagine the feelings of these military sailors - sailor, captain, foreman - what awaits them after the campaign?
When you come home from a difficult hike, the door is closed. Then you are greeted by an angry expression, a cry: why did you come, here is a divorce paper for you, and others, and other beats of a cruel woman’s heart in the heart of her husband. And he, being in the service, fulfilling the duty of defending the Motherland, engaged in complex shooting, thinks this difficult thought of his - and his hand moves differently... Maybe they pressed something wrong, directed it in the wrong direction, and the boat and burst...
And this picture is repeated every time women send us, their husbands, with a curse. This was also when the Tarasov motor ship sank, and when a number of other disasters took place - I have a lot of evidence of such tragedies...
We forget how powerful a word is when spoken in anger, with the desire for retribution, for a person to be destroyed: everything is done according to this word. I have already told you more than once, I teach and remind you all the time that your woman’s word - it immediately reaches God. Straightaway! Good, prayerful words too, and especially prayerful ones. But we don’t feel, we don’t want to understand how God helps us for our prayers, especially when we pray in sorrow for children, when we endure their suffering...
Father Vasily
Pray - the Lord will reward you with everything. Even if not right away, you will get everything you want, what you strive for, what you are looking for in life. So is it really impossible to settle down, is it really impossible to keep irritation within yourself? After all, this is a loved one - remember that you all married for love, and you loved each other. But when the time of everyday shortages came - they weren’t given apartments anywhere, they weren’t paid salaries, then a number of other troubles arose - right away: it’s your fault! And somewhere to feel sorry, to console, to caress, to say: “Come on, everything will come in due time” - this is not...
I have been watching you for many years, almost 50 years, and I know where the roots of this evil come from - female unbelief and cruelty. This happens when a woman loses faith, when a wife loses love that must be preserved - not carnal, but spiritual love! Yes, the greatest feat in the family is taking care of your husband, your children, your home. And you can accomplish this feat - everything is within your power!
But you don’t want and don’t want it, you don’t need it. But excuses are needed: they say, you didn’t know that he was so bad, although he seemed so bad before smart person. Well, what is his fault? While he was walking around as a suitor, he was good, but when the time of testing came, he became bad.
Why is it bad? Nothing. Everything is the same, but the wife looks around: look how the neighbors live, they have everything. Oh, what a car, what a dacha, how she dresses, where they go for walks, and so on and so forth. Why is this necessary? In an instant it can collapse, in an instant it can be destroyed...
And then they start crying: “Oh, my dears, oh, my dears, how you suffered there...”, tearing out your hair... The gasps are over, the sighs are over. You received what, without wanting, without realizing it, you brought upon yourself. We got what we deserved. Here is a clear example of the answer to what happens to a person when, having forgotten God, he brings his evil and bitterness into this world.
If they pray, God will help them. No - they will still spin. After all, they followed all these psychics, all the sorcerers, believing in their empty promises and paying money for this demonic business. But only four people came to Church...
Today they told me that Bagryantsev’s wife will come here again tomorrow. That others began to move a little closer to the temple of God - already about twenty people were still somewhere in the North, in a small chapel, along with them. Thank God, they are beginning to understand the main thing: that you don’t have to live with a glance at this dust - at the apparent well-being of life, it is important to think about your family. And in a family faith is required - the wife’s faith is very strong, supported by prayer and hope for God’s help. It is the wife who should be the core of spiritual life and the clock by which the family lives. This pendulum of life that moves in it - a lot depends on it.
But, unfortunately, she flies out behind the shoulder straps - oh, how beautiful they are when they graduate from the naval school: the shoulder straps are shiny, the shirts are white, the dirk is on the side, the cap... - wow! Involuntarily I want to rush after this. But then she rushed in, and she had to roll up her sleeves and wash the dishes and do all sorts of other chores, and then the kids started walking. And it begins: but I didn’t think that everything would be like this... And they leave their husbands to the mercy of fate. Here you will inevitably start drinking - I speak like a peasant - and you will inevitably start stumbling, because no one is waiting at home.
But in order to live normally, you need to understand that a military husband, especially a border guard, when he comes home, needs to be given reasonable rest - both moral and spiritual. But for this you need to have boundless love for your husband and his feat. That is why Christian wives are always glorified, who share all the hardships of their husbands’ camp life. These wives are what you need...
But now you, young mothers, most often do not prepare your children and daughters for a hard life. You calmly let them go to this disco, but in a shorter dress, and at fifteen, even at thirteen years old, this daughter is already smoking with all her might, or - it’s scary to watch - she’s walking half-drunk. Well, well, what good is she - throw her on the street, and then she is offended that at twenty years old she is already “retired”...
Well, where is it? But they themselves were looking for all this, they themselves were striving for it, without listening, not wanting to understand the old people - who had seen, who had passed, who understood all the dirty, tragic past time. We saw everything. That’s why we warn, we constantly say: “Guys, don’t interfere, don’t steal, don’t smoke, don’t rush into these companies...” But they still rush in, and then they cry, and then they get offended, why is life like this...
Here's another recent example. A man, only 36 years old, walked towards the car and died. Why did he die? Perhaps he became unspoken? Yes, the driver let loose and was about to file for divorce. Well, he handed it in - they brought it in a hearse. We won’t wish this on anyone, and we’ll remind you that you can’t be touched, you can’t be humiliated, you can’t be treated like some kind of rag, you can’t! There is a great power - God is always for you, God protects you, protects you, and will protect you, only you become closer to God. Difficult? - Difficult! And consolation is in God, in prayer, in joy and prosperity.
This is why I am telling you that you, my Christians, my parishioners, should stand firm in the faith. You must have strong faith and demonstrate boundless love. But love is not for the street, not for envy that someone is better dressed, but love for faith, for prayer, for compassionate people.
It is no coincidence that I reminded you of the Kursk tragedy - my wife’s word came true. The mother's word is fulfilled, and the wife's too, if she prays. If my mother and sister had not prayed since 1943, I would not be standing here. I practically felt the influx of God’s power through their prayers: “Intercede and save!”
So it is today. Our times are very difficult, very cruel, very cynical. Everyone is shaking us, everyone is preventing us from moving towards faith. But this is the most important thing - to believe, pray, raise children - so that they know school, Church, home and mother! It’s difficult, yes, it’s difficult, but you have to give it a hand. And don't spoil them. They don’t behave like that, they don’t listen to you - put them on bread, on water. It's nothing. You do not want? Earn money yourself. And not so that: “Dad, is there anything better?” What you have, put it on. If you don't want to, go and work. So that time doesn’t ask you later: “Why does everything work out this way?” So that they don’t point at you: “Mother, it’s your fault that I grew up like this.” Didn’t they tell you?...
And less attention to the world - to the world of surrounding temptation and ignorance. This is not ours. Ours here is the temple of God, prayer. And the Lord, don’t get me wrong, the Lord gives us everything - everything we need for life, for joy, for consolation, and especially for future mothers and husbands. Walk - firmly, but with God, with prayer. Without listening, without asking for advice from friends, from friends. And without leaving your family, looking for all kinds of entertainment. Otherwise it will be too late, too late to cry.
Remember, God is with us everywhere, and there is no need to “blur” anything - in the back, to your loved ones, relatives, especially husbands. Difficult? Yes, it's difficult for everyone. But we must patiently endure the test that each of us faces. We all bear the sin of life, and only in faith do we atone for it - we pray, we ask that the Lord grant us to endure everything patiently.
Keep it up, and teach others - the stupid ones who don’t understand this: “How do you live? - It’s very simple: I believe and I pray. And I don’t scold my husband. And I teach children faith...” Amen.
Going to people was his main rule. He came down from the pulpit to ask everyone about their needs and try to help. Being a true shepherd, he served people with his heartfelt words, which combined the requirement of repentant discipline and boundless love and mercy for the suffering. Being a faithful son of his long-suffering homeland, he boldly spoke out on the most pressing topics relating to its modern life and tragic history.
For a long time, Vasily Ermakov, archpriest, served as rector of the Church of St. Seraphim of Sarov in St. Petersburg). He is one of the most famous Russian priests of recent decades. His authority is recognized both in the St. Petersburg diocese and far beyond its borders.
Vasily Ermakov, archpriest: “My life was a battle...”
His life was “a battle, truly, for God, for faith, for purity of thought and for visiting the temple of God.” This is how priest Vasily Ermakov defined his credo in one of his last interviews.
Thousands of people for many years, including during Soviet times, thanks to him, found their way to the Church. The fame of his undoubted spiritual gifts spread far beyond the borders of Russia. People came to him from different parts of the world for advice and guidance.
Father Vasily provided spiritual help and support to many. He believed that everyone needed to “pray sincerely, with all my heart and all my soul. Prayer attracts the Spirit, and the Spirit removes... everything unnecessary, ugly and teaches how to live and behave...”
Biography
Vasily Ermakov, clergyman of the Russian Mitred Archpriest, was born on December 20, 1927 in Bolkhov and died on February 3, 2007 in St. Petersburg.
“Many,” said Vasily Ermakov (you can see his photo in the article), “believe that the priest has some kind of privilege or special grace over the laity. The sad thing is that the majority of the clergy thinks so. In fact, the special privilege of the priest lies in that he must be a servant to everyone he meets throughout his life, without vacations or days off, around the clock.”
Father Vasily emphasized the high missionary meaning and sacrificial nature of the life and work of a clergyman. “You’re not in the mood - go and serve. If your back or legs hurt, go and serve. Problems in the family, and you go and serve! This is what the Lord and the Gospel demand. There is no such attitude - to live your whole life for people - do something else, do not take on the burden of Christ,” said priest Vasily Ermakov.
Childhood and adolescence
He was born into a peasant family. His first mentor in the church faith was his father. At that time (late 30s) all 28 churches in his small hometown were closed. Vasily began studying at school in 1933, and in 1941 he completed seven classes.
In the fall of 1941, the city of Bolkhov was captured by the Germans. Everyone over the age of fourteen was sent to forced labor: clearing roads, digging trenches, burying craters, building bridges.
In October 1941, a church was opened in Bolkhov, built near a former convent. It was in this church that he attended a service for the first time, and from March 1942 Vasily Ermakov began to go there regularly and serve at the altar. The archpriest recalled that it was a 17th century church, erected in the name of St. Alexy, Metropolitan of Moscow. The local priest's name was Father Vasily Verevkin.
In July 1943, Ermakov and his sister were caught in a raid. In September they were driven to one of the Estonian camps. Tallinn Orthodox leadership Divine services were held in the camps; Archpriest Mikhail Ridiger came here among other clergy. Friendly relations began between Ermakov and the archpriest.
In 1943, an order was issued to release priests and their families from the camps. Vasily Verevkin, who was sitting there, included the namesake among his family. So the young clergyman managed to leave the camp.
Until the end of the war
Together with Mikhail Ridiger's son Alexei, Vasily Ermakov also served as a subdeacon with Bishop Pavel of Narva. The archpriest recalled that at the same time, in order to feed himself, he was forced to work in a private factory.
In September 1944, Tallinn was liberated by Soviet troops. Vasily Timofeevich Ermakov was mobilized. Served at the headquarters of the Baltic Fleet. And he devoted his free time to being a subdeacon and bell ringer in the Tallinn Alexander Nevsky Cathedral.
Education
When the war ended, Vasily Ermakov returned home. In 1946, he passed the exams at the Leningrad Theological Seminary, which he successfully completed in 1949. His next place of study was the Theological Academy (1949-1953), after graduating from which he received a candidate's degree in theology. The topic of his course work was: “The role of the Russian clergy in the liberation struggle of the people during the Time of Troubles.”
Future II also studied in the same group with Ermakov (they sat together at the same desk). The Theological Academy contributed to the final formation of the young priest’s views and the determination of a firm decision to devote his life to serving God and people.
Spiritual activity
After completing his studies at the academy, Vasily Ermakov gets married. His chosen one was Lyudmila Aleksandrovna Nikiforova.
In November 1953, the young priest was ordained a deacon by Bishop Roman of Tallinn and Estonia. In the same month, he was ordained a priest and appointed clergyman of the St. Nicholas Cathedral.
St. Nicholas Cathedral left a large memorable mark in the mind of the priest. Its parishioners included famous artists of the Mariinsky Theater: singer Preobrazhenskaya, choreographer Sergeev. The funeral service for the great Anna Akhmatova was held in this cathedral. Father Vasily confessed to the parishioners who visited St. Nicholas Cathedral from the late 20s and 30s.
Holy Trinity Church
In 1976, the clergyman was transferred to the Holy Trinity Church “Kulich and Easter”. The temple was reopened immediately after the end of the war, in 1946, and remained one of the few operating in the city. Most Leningraders had some dear memories associated with this temple.
Its architecture is unusual: the church “Kulich and Easter” (temple and bell tower), even in the frostiest winter or dank autumn slush, its shape reminds of spring, Easter, and the awakening to life.
Vasily Ermakov served here until 1981.
Last place of pastoral ministry
Since 1981, Father Vasily was transferred to the Church of St. Seraphim of Sarov, located at the Seraphim cemetery. It became the last place of pastoral service of the famous priest.
Here the mitered archpriest (i.e., the archpriest awarded the right to wear a miter) Vasily Ermakov served as rector for more than 20 years. For him, Sarovsky, in whose honor the temple was built, was a high example, a model of devoted service to his neighbor.
Until his last days, Father spent all his time here, from early liturgies until late in the evening.
On January 15, 2007, on the day of St. Seraphim of Sarov, the priest delivered a farewell sermon dedicated to the saint to his flock. And on January 28, Father Vasily held the last service.
Spiritual center
The small wooden church of St. Seraphim of Sarov, in which the beloved shepherd served, was the first Russian church built in honor of the saint. It was famous for the fact that during its hundred-year history it always had the largest parish.
During the service there of Vasily Ermakov, one of the most famous and revered Russian priests, this place became a real spiritual center, where believers from all over the vast country sought advice and consolation. On holidays, about one and a half to two thousand people received communion here.
The fame of inexhaustible spiritual strength and vital energy, which Father Vasily Ermakov, whose photo is presented to your attention in the article, shared with parishioners until the end of his days, spread far beyond the boundaries of the temple.
In one of his interviews, the priest spoke about the period of Soviet history of the great temple. Since the 50s, it has been a place of exile, where clergy who were disliked by the authorities were sent - a kind of “spiritual prison”.
A former partisan who maintained certain relations with the Commissioner for Religious Affairs G.S. Zharinov served as headman here. As a result of “cooperation” with the authority of the church elder, the fates of many priests were broken, who were banned from holding services and were forever deprived of the opportunity to receive a parish.
When Father Vasily came here in 1981, he found a spirit of dictatorship and fear in the church. The parishioners wrote denunciations against each other, addressed to the metropolitan and the commissioner. There was complete confusion and disorder in the church.
The priest asked the elder only for candles, prosphora and wine, saying that the rest did not concern him. He delivered his sermons, calling for faith, for prayer and for the temple of God. And at first they were met with hostility by some. The headman constantly saw them as anti-Soviet, warning of the commissioner’s dissatisfaction.
But gradually people began to come to the church, for whom it was important that here, at the very peak of Soviet stagnation (the early and mid-80s), they could fearlessly talk to a priest, seek advice, receive spiritual support and answers to all life’s questions of interest.
Sermons
In one of his last interviews, the clergyman said: “I have been bringing spiritual joy for 60 years.” And it’s true - many needed him as a comforter and intercessor for their neighbors before God.
Vasily Ermakov's sermons were always artless, direct, coming from life and its urgent troubles and reaching the very heart of a person, helping to get rid of sin. “The Church is Calling”, “Follow Christ, Orthodox!”, “On the Duties of Man”, “On Crime and Mercy”, “On Healing”, “Russian People”, “The Sorrow and Glory of Russia” - this is not the whole list.
“The worst sinner is better than you...”
He always said that it is very bad when a Christian in his heart exalts himself over others, considers himself better, smarter, more righteous. The secret of salvation, the archpriest interpreted, lies in considering oneself more unworthy and worse than any creature. The presence of the Holy Spirit in a person helps him to understand his smallness and ugliness, to see that a “fierce sinner” is better than himself. If a person has placed himself above others, this is a sign that there is no Spirit in him, he still needs to work on himself.
But self-deprecation, Father Vasily explained, is also a bad trait. A Christian is supposed to go through life with a sense of self-worth, for he is the receptacle of the Holy Spirit. If a person subserviently before others, he is not worthy to become a temple where the Spirit of God dwells...
“The pain, if severe, is short...”
Christians must pray sincerely, with all their soul and all their heart. Prayer attracts the Spirit, which will help a person get rid of sins and guide him on the righteous path. Sometimes it seems to a person that he is the most unfortunate person on earth, poor, sick, no one loves him, he has no luck everywhere, the whole world has turned against him. But often, as Vasily Ermakov said, these misfortunes and troubles turn out to be exaggerated. Truly sick and unhappy people do not show their illnesses, do not groan, but silently carry their cross to the end. It is not they, but people who seek consolation from them.
People complain because they definitely want to be happy and content here in this world. They have no faith in eternal life, they do not believe that eternal bliss exists, they want to enjoy happiness here. And if they encounter interference, they shout that they feel bad and even worse than everyone else.
This, the priest taught, is the wrong position. A Christian must be able to look at his suffering and misfortune differently. Although it is difficult, he needs to love his pain. You cannot seek contentment in this world, the priest preached. “Wish for the Kingdom of Heaven,” he said, “above all else, and then you will taste the light...” Earthly life lasts one moment, and the Kingdom of God lasts “endless centuries.” You have to be patient here a little, and then you will taste eternal joy there. “The pain, if it is strong, is short,” Father Vasily taught the parishioners, “and if it is long, then it is one that can be tolerated...”.
“Preserve Russian spiritual traditions...”
Each sermon of Archpriest Vasily was imbued with true patriotism, concern for the revival and preservation of national spiritual foundations.
Father Vasily considered the activities of the so-called “young saints”, who treat the service formally, do not delve into people’s problems, which pushes them away from the church, as a big disaster in the difficult times that Russia is going through.
The Russian Church has traditionally treated the sacraments subtly, great importance ensured that a person perceived their meaning with all his soul and heart. And now, the priest lamented, everyone was “crushed” by money.
A clergyman, first of all, needs to heed the voice of conscience, obey the high priests and bishops, and teach parishioners faith and the fear of God by his own example. This is the only way to maintain ancient Russian spiritual traditions and continue the difficult battle for the soul of the Russian people.
For his service worthy of all respect, Vasily Timofeevich was awarded:
- in 1978 - miter;
- in 1991 received the right to serve the Divine Liturgy;
- on his 60th anniversary (1997), Father Vasily was awarded the Order of the Holy Blessed Prince Daniel of Moscow;
- in 2004, in honor of the 50th anniversary of his priesthood, he received the Order of St. Sergius of Radonezh (II degree).
Demise
In his last years, the priest suffered greatly from painful bodily infirmities, but continued to serve, devoting himself entirely to God and people. And on January 15, 2007 (the day of St. Seraphim of Sarov), he addressed his flock with a farewell sermon. And on February 2, in the evening, the sacrament of consecration of oil was performed on him, after which, after some time, his soul departed to the Lord.
For three days in a row, despite the February cold, severe frost and wind, his orphaned children came to him from morning to night. The priests led their crowded flock. Restrained crying, burning candles, singing dirges and living roses in people’s hands - this is how they saw off the righteous man on his last journey.
His final resting place was the Serafimovskoe cemetery in St. Petersburg. The burial took place on February 5. The huge number of representatives of the clergy and laity who came to the funeral service did not fit in the church. The service was led by the vicar of the St. Petersburg diocese, Archbishop Konstantin of Tikhvin.
Serafimovskoye Cemetery in St. Petersburg has a rich and glorious history. It is known as the necropolis of outstanding figures of science and culture. At the beginning of the Great Patriotic War, the cemetery was second after Piskarevsky in terms of the number of mass graves of Leningraders and fallen soldiers who died during the siege. The military memorial tradition continued after the war.
Saying goodbye to their beloved shepherd, many did not hide their tears. But those who saw him off were not despondent. Father always taught his flock to be faithful Christians: to stand firmly on their feet and steadfastly endure everyday sorrows.
Memory
The parishioners do not forget their beloved shepherd: from time to time, memorial evenings are dedicated to him. An evening of remembrance was held especially solemnly in February 2013, dedicated to the day sixth anniversary of the death of a popular clergyman (concert hall “U Finlandsky”), which was attended by both ordinary parishioners and outstanding people Russia: Rear Admiral Mikhail Kuznetsov, poetess Lyudmila Morentsova, singer Sergei Aleshchenko, many clergy.
Some publications in the media are also dedicated to the memory of Vasily Ermakov.
Finally
The priest always said: we must pray and believe, and then the Lord will save the people and Holy Rus'. You should never lose heart, you should never drive God out of your heart. We must remember that when things get difficult, in the life around us there will always be support from loved ones and a spiritual example.
“My dear Russian people, children of the 21st century,” Father Vasily exhorted his flock, “keep the Orthodox faith, and God will never leave you.”