Patericon reading. Maya KucherskayaModern patericon

http://www.ruthenia.ru/nemzer/kucherskaja.html Monday, September 08, 2008 21:34 ()

http://www.ruthenia.ru/nemzer/kucherskaja.html

The gift of joy - the joy of the gift
The Vremya publishing house published “Modern Patericon” by Maya Kucherskaya
Once upon a time there lived a girl. This is how you can start any story, unless, of course, this story is about a married lady, widow or man. This is how Maya Kucherskaya begins the story “The Writer,” with which “Reading for those who have tasted the sweetness of true faith in recent times” opens. True, this cycle in her “Modern Patericon” is number two, skipping ahead to “Reading during the Nativity Lent.” Which is logical, since the reader must move from the Nativity Fast to Easter, when Kucherskaya’s heroes - smart and stupid, young and old, cheerful and strict, fasting and non-fasting, priests and laity - responded to the priest’s joyful news “with a single exhalation and thunder: “Truly Risen!” And the little boy Gosha, sitting on the neck of one very serious dad, shouted: “Hurray!” And he growled at daddy’s bald head, as if he were a terrible tiger.” Everything is correct (as they say, the composition is thought out), but I would like to start the conversation with “The Writer”.
If Kucherskaya had been like this same writer, I would never have mentioned her. Neither at the beginning of the review, nor at the end. Because there would be no review. And the book itself. Because that girl, first converted by her loved one to the true faith, and then abandoned by him (the young poet left for Switzerland, to live with relatives, for eternal settlement), of course, wrote prose (“in a small genre - stories, short stories, essays, rarely, when he writes a story"), but did not publish it. The priest did not give his blessing - he was talented, they say, but without the “right direction”. As a result, the girl began to miss her doorman even more, write worse (or maybe she just stopped liking the previously favorable editor - that also happens) and decided that she was missing something. “Maybe self-realization, maybe fame, maybe children... Well, that’s it, sir. Drowned in the Moscow River...
Dear brothers and sisters! What conclusion can we draw from this story? The girl was mentally abnormal.”
And the other girl (now my husband’s wife) was normal. And therefore she wrote many stories, articles, notes and dissertations. And a wonderful book, which, as you may have guessed, I’m trying to tell you about. Not only did she write, but she also took it to the Znamya magazine, which at a brisk pace published a fair portion of the Modern Patericon in the first issue of 2004, as well as to the Vremya publishing house. Which is no worse than the above-mentioned magazine, and therefore also did not lose face - it quickly published “Modern Patericon”. Designed by Valery Kalnynsh, with a foreword by Sergei Chuprinin (editor-in-chief of the friendly Znamya) and, most surprisingly, with texts by Maya Kucherskaya.
The Patericon is a collection of stories about the deeds of the glorious fathers. Kucherskaya writes a lot about priests (priests and monks) and with special feeling. But not only about them. Firstly, why are nunnery monasteries worse than male monasteries? But why not look for a special word for stories about nuns? (“The mainland” is clearly not suitable.) Secondly, a lot of interesting things happen to the parishioners. Funny, bitter, joyful, enlightening the soul. As one of the most touching and wise heroes of the patericon, Father Paul, liked to repeat: “The people are not the servant of the priest, but the priest is the servant of the people.” He, a former camp inmate who had served in a rural church for thirty-three years, knew what he was saying.
There will probably be readers who will find some of Kucherskaya’s stories blasphemous. It’s like this: one priest is a businessman, another is friends with bandits, the third is a cannibal (but he strictly keeps his fast). There will also be those who will be indignant for other reasons. How is it that a talented artist left the stage for the sake of the temple, but she rejoices! He writes about some miracles. In our enlightened age! Dear brothers and sisters! What conclusion can we draw from this story? Both church people and those who stand outside the church fence are abnormal (stupid, hysterical, blinkered, lacking taste and tact). But there are many more normal ones.
This is what Maya Kucherskaya is talking about. Sometimes laughing, sometimes crying. Sometimes mourning, sometimes rejoicing. Connecting miracles with everyday life. Remembering that the instructions of the wise elders are inseparable from their life achievements. And that, in the words of Father Micah, “there is no need to reinvent the wheel” and “you cannot believe through your teeth.” Giving joy to those who can accept it, and rejoicing in your gift.
19/03/04
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"Modern Patericon. Reading for those who have fallen into despondency" by Maya Kucherskaya was burned in one monastery, and in one of the seminaries it is used as a teaching aid. There has never been a book like this before. Disputes about it divided readers into two irreconcilable camps. Some people find this collection of short stories about clergy and their flock too ironic and poisonous, while others are convinced that the book was written with great warmth and love.

About the book

• Name: Modern patericon. Reading for the discouraged
• Maya Kucherskaya
• Genre: Contemporary prose, Humorous prose
• Series:-
• ISBN:978-5-17-051417-5, 978-5-271-19930-1
• Pages: 49
• Translation:-
• Publisher: AST, Astrel
• Year: 2008

EBook

For several years now, from various parts of Russia, I have been receiving stories about priests, mothers, laymen and bishops, with modest notes - maybe it will be useful to you, just please do not name them. I won't name it. Also because a real “patericon” (a collection of stories from the lives of Christians and wise sayings) is a completely serious and documentary genre. For a believer, there is no doubt whether the events described, for example, in the Kiev-Pechersk Patericon actually happened - of course yes. And the goals of such patericons are high - to lead a person to God.

The book that the reader holds in his hands should be listed under a completely different department - the department of fine literature. Yes, there are individual historical characters in the “Modern Patericon”, and all of them, by the way, are called by their proper names, but even about them the author tells fables. And no matter how you turn it, “Modern Patericon” is still fiction. Occasionally woven on a real warp...

For several years now, from various parts of Russia, I have been receiving stories about priests, mothers, laymen and bishops, with modest notes - maybe it will be useful to you, just please don’t name them. I won't name it. Also because a real “patericon” (a collection of stories from the lives of Christians and wise sayings) is a completely serious and documentary genre. For a believer, there is no doubt whether the events described, for example, in the Kiev-Pechersk Patericon actually happened - of course yes. And the goals of such patericons are high - to lead a person to God.

The book that the reader holds in his hands should be listed under a completely different department - the department of fine literature. Yes, there are certain historical characters in the “Modern Patericon”, and all of them, by the way, are called by their proper names, but even about them the author tells fables. And no matter how you turn it, “Modern Patericon” is still fiction. Occasionally woven on a real warp; more often - no. So for those who, at any cost, want to find the mink of an Orthodox hedgehog in a remote Russian province or try apples from a wonderful garden grown by angels, I’m afraid it will not be easy.

I will also appeal separately to those who do not see hope at the bottom of the saddest stories, who are wounded by a cannibal father and a murderous mother, and who are only angered by learned speeches about literary conventions, the laws of parody and satire - before throwing the book into the fire (with previous editions “Paterikon” such things happened), it makes sense to look at the end of it, read the last chapter. I promise it will get easier.

And I admit frankly: the very possibility of our communication is a great joy for me and a feeling of incredible spaciousness. So many people live in this world, and these complete strangers, in St. Petersburg, Moscow, Kiev, Tomsk, Milan, Toronto, Boston, one day open your book. They read, laugh, get upset, wipe away their tears, agree (argue) with you. Just yesterday we didn’t know each other at all - and suddenly we already know each other. This miracle of meeting occurs. The warmest and still surprised gratitude to everyone for him. Enjoy reading.

CYCLE ONE

READING ON CHRISTMAS LENT

1 We had a meal. Suddenly Father Theoprepius reached under the table. And he climbed in and sat there among the rough-shod feet of the brethren. The legs didn't move. Then Theoprepius began to climb and pull everyone’s cassocks from below. Out of humility, no one reproached him. Only one novice monk asked in amazement: “Father! How do you want me to understand you?”

“I want to be like a child,” was the answer.

2 The elder, who was known to be perspicacious, instructed the novice to cut down the poplar tree that grew right in the middle of the monastery. The novice, wanting to comprehend the hidden meaning of the request, said: “Father, why chop it down?”

“Lergia tortured me, grandson.” From poplar fluff,” the old man answered and sneezed.

“Be healthy,” said the novice and ran for the electric saw.

For he had the gift of reasoning.

3 Father Stefan pulled his brother's beard.

- Oh oh oh! - the brother shouted.

“You’re a silent person,” Stefan was amazed.

“Well, so what,” said the brother. And he cried bitterly.

4 One monk was very depressed. No means could heal him. Then the brothers gave him a wind-up car for his name day. The car could turn itself, beep and flash its headlights.

- Wow, machine! - the monk exclaimed.

Since then, he has never lost heart in his life. Every day before going to bed, he loaded the back of the car with pebbles, started it and watched it drive around the cell, turning on its own, flashing its headlights and beeping quietly.

5 The brethren asked the elder:

- Tell me, father, where is the best place to build a woodshed for us? Closer to the fence or next to the bathhouse? Or maybe behind the gate?

“Wherever you want,” answered the elder.

6 Father Yehudil doused himself with pea soup.

“Listen, Vasya, wash my cassock,” he said to one novice who had recently entered the monastery.

“I don’t know how to do laundry,” Vasya objected. And he laughed.

“So you will learn,” answered Father Yehudil.

And he laughed even louder.

7 Once the brothers went for a walk in the forest. They had just started walking when suddenly Father Jacob got lost.

- Yasha, Yasha! “Ay,” his brothers began to call. But there was silence in the forest. Only the cuckoo crowed loudly and mushrooms grew under the trees.

- And why doesn’t he respond? - the brothers thought. - Maybe he went into seclusion? Or took a vow of silence?

And Father Jacob climbed a tall tree, pretended to be a cuckoo and watched through the leaves as they searched for him. And he laughed and cooed!

8. Father Gavryusha was very fat and grunted in his sleep. One new monk was not familiar with the monastery's rules and, hearing grunting, began to run around the monastery and look for a pig. He jumped on the beds, shoved sticks into dark corners, even climbed onto the roof and threw pebbles into the drainpipe. I never found it.

9. Monk Stepanenko prayed so hard all night that he cut his forehead. The next morning his friend asks him:

- What is it, Stepanenko, you have a bump on your forehead?

But yesterday it wasn’t. Probably prayed all night?

- No, I just fell.

“I thought I was praying all night!”

- No, I just fell.

- I thought...

- No, I just fell.

– Do you know how our team played with the Canadians?

- No, I just fell.

10 A certain brother stopped eating food.

- Why don’t you eat anything? - his cell neighbors asked him.

“And I’m a faster,” the brother explained.

- Yes, but you will soon die of hunger.

- Yes? - answered the monk. - Will I die of hunger?

And, marveling at their prudence, he began to eat, having received edification.

11 One monk came to the elder to complain about another.

- He is very bad! - the monk told the elder. “How many times have I seen with my own eyes how he committed grave sins?”

The elder bandaged his brother’s eyes with a dirty and smelly rag, saying to him:

- Let's punish the two scoundrels - let them now contemplate and smell the soul of their master.

– Is my soul like this muck? - asked the brother.

- Much worse, I just felt sorry for you!

From then on, the brother, seeing someone sinning, immediately brought the stinking rag, which he now always kept with him, closer to his face, and received consolation.

12 One day, participants of the World Conference came to the monastery and during the meal they began to treat the brethren to sausage brought from Finland.

The brothers deliberately turned away in the other direction so as not to see and accidentally eat. One old man was terribly happy.

“They were a friend to the old man, they were great, they were great!” he muttered with his mouth full. And he ate, ate, ate. And I ate all the sausage from Finland.

The World Conference was very surprised.

13 The elder of one holy monastery, wanting to show guests from distant countries what kind of obedience his cell attendant had achieved, called him over and, pointing to the red mongrel in the monastery courtyard, said:

– You see, brother John, what’s happening! A wolf is walking around the monastery!

- As if he didn't choke our chickens. Should I bring a gun? - John answered.

Guests from distant countries clapped their hands in admiration.

14 Seeing a crowd of suffering lay people near his cell, Father Paisius rushed to run. The sufferers quickly rushed after him; someone grabbed him by the tip of his robe, but let him go.

They ran after the disobedient confessor for a long time, they had already crushed two monastery flower beds, but they could not catch up and were so upset that they went to complain about Father Paisius to the abbot.

The abbot, going out onto the porch, beckoned Father Paisius with his thick finger and said in his ear:

- Why are you, brother, running away from your spiritual children, huh?

“Not from them, father, but from the spirit of vanity,” answered the out of breath Father Paisiy.

15 One brother came to the elder to complain about his hard life. When the elder began to give him wise advice on what to do, the brother answered everything: “No, I can’t do this and I won’t cope with this, and I won’t be able to do that.”

“Hey, Lekha,” the elder then called his cell attendant, “prepare this manna porridge.” He is very weak.

16 Father Dorimedont ate too much chocolate. His mother sent him chocolate in a parcel, and on his way from the post office, Father Dorimedont accidentally ate it all.

In the evening he lay holding his stomach and could not sleep. The brethren, feeling sorry for him, danced around his bed and sang a monastery lullaby. But Father Dorimedont was still sad.

“Look, he’s holding his stomach,” one of the monks noted. - He probably got sick from asceticism. I'll grab some chocolate from the refrigerator to console him!

“Not this,” Father Dorimedont groaned in horror. - Give me a sip of salted water.

Hearing this, the brethren marveled at his way of life and increased their fast.

17 The monk Ambrose, who was performing obedience in the refectory, after finishing the fraternal meal, sat down at the table and, taking out the glazed cheese curds from the hiding place, began to devour them one by one.

At that moment, another monk entered the refectory and saw his brother eating the cheesecake.

- Forgive me, father, for reminding you! - the monk who entered noticed. - But today is a day of strict fasting, for today is Christmas Eve.

Father Ambrose looked up in amazement at the speaker and immediately vomited.

18 Brother Anthony got bored and decided to get married.

"I am getting married!" - he told the brethren. The brothers, out of love for him, did not want to let him go alone into the sinful world and decided to go with him in order to share his fate. At that time, the elder left for the World Conference, and there was no one to consult with.

The monks gathered at the gate, crossed themselves in farewell to the temples, and then the elder entered the gate - he returned from the conference.

- Bless, father, for the last time, let's go into the world to get married! - the brethren turned to him with tears.

“God bless you guys, but just...” the old man hesitated.

- What? Tell us!

- Women are like that...!

At the same moment the monks fled to their cells.

19 A certain brother fell into temptation and, coming to the elder, said:

– Father, I realized that there is no God, and I will leave the monastery.

The elder began to cry and answered through his tears:

- My child, my child! You did not understand anything. Go wherever you want.

The monk remained.

20 The brother came to Abba Averky and said to him:

“I’m so lazy that it’s hard for me to even get up to go to obedience.” Every day is hard labor for me, and I feel that soon I will be completely exhausted from work and self-compulsion.

“If it’s so hard for you to go to work,” Abba answered, “don’t go.” Stay in your cell and bitterly mourn your laziness. Cry louder! Seeing how bitterly you cry, no one will touch you.

21 They told about Abba Averky that he often bumped into walls and various objects, having many bruises on his body and even his face, for his mind was busy with contemplation.

22 Brother Ducitius asked Abba Pachomius:

“Father, I don’t know how to behave with the brethren in our common cell and at meals.” Whatever I do, everything is wrong, and I, without meaning to, turned into a clown. My brothers constantly laugh at me and talk about me mockingly behind my back.

Abba Pachomius answered him:

“Nothing upsets and seduces a brother more than the difference of one from the others.” If you try not to be different from those living here, you will see how humility will embrace your soul, and no one will bother you anymore.

23 One brother, being in deep sorrow, complained to Father Pachomius:

- Father! Every night I am severely tormented by demons. As soon as I go to bed, I close my eyes, and suddenly I really want chicken! Fried, with a crust, surrounded by golden potatoes and dill. Or not chicken, but just fish. Finnish red fish with white bread and butter. Or I’ll get up to pray, and I’ll die and want to smoke, just one cigarette. Well, wash it down with a glass of wine. It seems as if all the forces of hell, all the demons have taken up arms against me...

- Brother! - the elder answered, chuckling. - Well, what kind of forces of hell are these, what demons? Demons tormented the ancient fathers, hermits, righteous people and saints. And we... The devil still has to waste his energy on us. So these are not demons. These are just your desires. You don't even need feats to defeat them. You don't even need to be a monk.

- What do you need, honest father?

- Willpower, dear, willpower. And to harden it, every morning do ten push-ups and douse yourself with cold water. And you prevail.

– What about the Jesus Prayer? What about prostrations?

But the elder did not answer anything to the questioning brother, saying that he did not have time to continue the conversation.

24 Father Plato said: “The time of great relaxation and weakness has come. We are not capable of anything and we cannot do anything. Let's at least admit it. And may the All-Merciful Lord have mercy on us.”

25 The new monk asked Father Plato:

– Where is the best way to start on the path to salvation?

He answered:

- Call your mom already.

26 He also said: “Just don’t reinvent the wheel.”

27 Also: “You can’t believe through your teeth.”

28 He told the women: “Cook yourself oatmeal every day. Throw grains of good deeds into the boiling water of passions; sweetening it with prayer and sweetening it with love for one's neighbor, stir it with the liar of prudence. God willing, by evening you will find yourself some suitable food.”

He told the men: “Charge the battery more often, otherwise you won’t start at all.” Then no “Angel” will help.”

29 An angel appeared to one monk.

- Angel? - the monk was amazed.

“Angel,” answered the Angel.

- What if you’re not telling the truth and pretending? – the brother trembled and crossed himself. - What if you’re just a white bird?

- What you! I mean it. If you want, touch it,” and the Angel handed him a shining wing.

The monk, wanting to touch it, felt only the air with his fingers instead of feathers - the wing was real, angelic!

30 They said about Father Jeremiah that he had a special cell attendant who changed the Abba’s handkerchiefs every hour - he cried so much.

31 One novice was very sensitive and often shed copious tears during services. The brethren nicknamed him “Crybaby.”

32 Two brothers quarreled. They lived as novices in perfect harmony, but after several years of a serene life they were ordained - one, then another. And the monks in this monastery were entitled to a separate cell. The brothers had to leave. They divided everything they had equally, but they couldn’t divide the VCR. It was given to Father Gennady, but Father Methodius repaired it, took it for repairs twice in his own car, not to mention the films, which he also mostly bought himself. The brothers almost came to blows over the VCR. In their anger, they even forgot about the TV. And they went to the elder.

- Father! Judge us,” they threw themselves at the feet of Abba Micah. “We just can’t share the VCR, it’s just a video recorder.” One was given it as a gift, another repaired it and bought video cassettes for it, whose is it now?

Ava asked:

– Do you have any good films?

- A whole box! - the brothers answered.

– And “Moscow doesn’t believe in tears”?

- Yes, father!

– And “Office Romance”?

– What about action films with Stallone?

- And militants.

“Everything is clear,” answered the Abba. “Bring both the video and the tapes to my cell immediately, don’t forget to grab the TV.” As soon as I decide to watch it, I’ll invite you over and the three of us will watch it.

The comforted brothers did as the elder commanded them. They put the TV, the VCR, and the box of films in his cell.

– Do I need to connect? – the brothers asked the elder.

“But this, guys, is me,” answered the elder and, blessing them, sent them away in peace.

But since then the elder never called them, and the brothers did not dare to remind him of his long-standing promise.

33 Novice Catherine received a letter. Having read the return address on the envelope, Katya almost shouted: “Denis, Deniska Grishakov!” The same one who proposed to her just six months ago. The same one to whom she chose monasticism. Deep sadness and longing for Denis immediately gripped Katya’s heart. And she went to the elder.

“Well,” she told the Abba, “in the world Denis Grishakov proposed to me, but I refused him and went to the monastery.” And yesterday he sent a letter, but I’m afraid to open it, there’s such sadness in my heart. What if he calls me back?

Father Andrian put his hand on the letter and immediately began to smile.

– Servant of God Dionysius, great happiness has visited you! How hard it would be for you if Katya became your wife! Thank God that this didn’t happen,” the priest turned to Katya. “Now try for the Lord, try as for your loved one, with whom it’s heaven in the hut, and you don’t need anything else, just to be close.”

- How can I try for Him? – Katya was surprised. “At least I saw Denis, I walked with him hand in hand, but I never saw God.

“And you help your sisters, be kind to them, and then boredom will leave you, and love for your only Groom will begin to grow.” Give me the letter, but remember today, come back exactly in a year, let’s read what he wrote there.

Katya gave the letter to the priest, he put it in the bottom drawer of his desk, but she never had a chance to read the letter - a few months later the priest fell ill and died - where can one look for the old letter. Exactly a year after that cherished day, Katya learned from friends who had come to the monastery that Denis had gotten married.

34 Father John was getting ready to go somewhere. I took the library books to the library, washed my socks, mended all the holes in my cassock, and cleaned my shoes.

“Are you planning to run away?” - the brothers asked him. - Shouldn’t it be home, to mother and father?

“There,” Father John admitted with a smile. “It’s good everywhere, but it’s better at home,” he added, and at that very moment he gave up the ghost.

35 The elder was walking near the monastery in the forest. Suddenly he looks and sees a girl standing on the road with a kitten in her hands and crying bitterly.

- Why are you crying, child?

- Well, grandpa, my kitten fell from the tree and died.

- This one, or what? – the old man asked, pointing his finger at the dead cat.

“This one,” the girl nodded and sobbed even louder.

- He's just pretending! Well, answer: kitty, kitty, kitty, do you know how to catch rats?

The animal did not move.

- Ah well! - the old man got angry. And with his eyes bulging, he shouted: “Well, then I’ll eat you now!”

The kitten was so frightened that it rose from fear, meowed pitifully and hid in the girl’s bosom.

36 Mother Theodosia was assigned to care for the chickens. A woman with a higher philological education, Feodosia used to only eat chickens and cope with her responsibilities poorly, enduring great sorrows.

One day, the abbess once again loudly scolded Theodosia. Suddenly there was a cackling sound - the gray wolf, grabbing the chicken, ran away.

- Come on, catch up with him and bring the chicken back! - the abbess cried in an angry voice. Theodosia rushed after the wolf.

- Give in the name of My Lord! - she shouted to the terrible beast. - Give it back immediately!

The frightened wolf, seeing that he was being chased, turned and released his prey. Theodosia picked up the chicken and took it to the chicken coop.

Severely dented, but alive, the chicken completely recovered by evening. And the next morning she laid a golden egg.

“Here, sisters, taste the fruit of obedience,” said Mother Superior, showing the egg at the meal. But no one could break it. After some consideration, the sisters placed it in the monastery Museum of Miracles.

37 It was said about Father Theophan, who lived for many years as a hermit in a dense forest, that if he found a dead animal or bird, he buried them according to Christian rites, served a memorial service for the repose of the “deceased creature” and did not forget to put a cross made of two knots on the grave .

38 The winter turned out to be snowless. It was Christmas Eve and the snow still hadn't fallen.

The head of one small monastery went to the distant desert to visit an old hermit. Seeing in spirit why he had come, the hermit came out to him and received him with joy.

- Righteous Father! – the head of the hermitage began to complain. “Christmas will come in two days, and we still don’t have snow.” The brethren are despondent. Like little children, the monks repeat that without snowdrifts and snow, Christmas is not Christmas. Forgive me, father, and tell me what to do!

- Why didn’t you pray and ask God?

“We prayed and asked more than once, but now - not a snowflake.”

- Maybe you didn’t pray well? Do you want to know that this is so?

Then the elder stretched out his hands to the sky and began to pray. A few minutes later, dark snow clouds gathered in the clear sky and snow began to fall. The hermitage leader fell on his face in horror and bowed to the elder. But when he got up, the old man was no longer there - he ran into the forest.

39 Easter came at the end of April. The hermit Theophan prayed all night, and in the morning he heard birds knocking on his windows with their beaks. He went outside. In the clearing in front of his hut, all the forest animals gathered - bears and wolves, foxes and hares sat nearby and looked at him through the transparent twilight.

- Christ is Risen! - the elder said, and, bending towards the shaggy muzzles, he shared Christ with everyone. Then he hugged all the trees around in turn, kissed the trunks and kept repeating: “Christ is risen! Christ is Risen".

- He is truly risen! - sounded in response.

40 As soon as Brother Daniel entered the monastery, he fell seriously ill. The brothers, knowing about his unrighteous past life, prayed to God that he would not die, but would live with them and have time for repentance. However, Daniel soon stopped rising and was already on the verge of death. The brothers came to say goodbye to him. He did not respond for a long time, lay silently with his eyes closed. But suddenly I woke up:

- What is this - Easter, brothers?

- What Easter, Danilushko! It's February, can't you hear the howling blizzard?

“I hear singing,” answered Daniel. – Isn’t it you who sings: “Christ is Risen”? And where does this light come from? - he asked.

The monks were silent, not knowing what to think.

That same night Danila died. The snowstorm subsided, but the snow was still falling heavily and often. It covered the entire monastery, all the paths, all the roofs, and only climbed down from the golden slippery domes, crawling in soft clods.

From the author. There is an old German proverb that describes the main facets of a woman’s existence. Kinder, küche, kirche. My passions are perfectly exhausted by this triad. Three Ks and three Ls. I love my two little kinders - the most wonderful and funny children in the world. I love our kitchen - the most comfortable place in the house, friends flock here, our dad reigns here, who cooks us pizzas, brews mysterious tea mixtures, and our soul sings. And I also like to go to church, in Russian - to church. And I’m only interested in writing about her, which makes it a little awkward (well, how can you be so limited!); Besides, it’s terribly hard, you’re constantly moving along the edge. And you stumble - inevitably. But I really want to say something very simple: the modern church lives and breathes, it has its own amazing, varied, rich life. With illnesses, disasters, tragedies, but also with joys, insights, love. And all sorts of funny stories too, which are impossible to retell without a smile, and sometimes even grotesqueness.

So I run around my triangle. And I’m also 33 years old. And I live in Moscow, working either as a literary critic or as a teacher. I was published in the magazines “Postscriptum” and “Volga”, which published my stories, and then my first big story “The Story of One Acquaintance” (1998, No. 10) - with rare friendliness and hospitality.

The entire “Modern Patericon” is published by the Vremya publishing house.

Father Nikolai

1. Father Nikolai lived on the island. People went to him by train to Pskov, then to the village, from there about three kilometers on foot, and then sailed on motor boats and a speedboat. And in winter they walked on ice or rode in special cars that were not slippery when driving on ice. The setting red sun was reflected in the ice.

People thought: “Now we will see the great old man, and he will explain everything to us.” And Father Nikolai told them: “Why did you come? I won’t tell you anything anyway.” He was old. Only his hands were strong, he hit them on the forehead of all the stupid and disobedient ones. And he sang songs, clear and loud, like a young man. After all, his father was the director of a church choir, and the priest loved church singing from childhood.

2. In early autumn, when everyone was leaving, silence fell over the island. The cows lay on the sand and looked at the gray water. Black boats rocked on the water, seagulls screamed, many large stones lay along the shore, and the largest stone was called Litvinov; why it was called that, no one knew for sure, but everyone thought, because once there were Lithuanians here on the island.

3. Once several students came to visit Father Nikolai. Pasha Andreev wanted to ask him whether he should marry or not. But the conversation was general, it was inappropriate to talk about marriage, the students asked the priest for a long time about various spiritual things, the priest answered them, and so everyone began to say goodbye. Then Father Nikolai leaned towards Pasha and quietly said: “Get married, get married.”

4. Once during the winter student holidays, three girls, three students of the Faculty of Philology, came to visit Father Nikolai.

Glory to Thee, Lord, they did not drown! - Father Nikolai said and crossed himself, the girls were walking on ice with large cracks and were terribly afraid. The red dog ran after them and whined quietly, and then fell behind because it was completely scared.

The priest led the girls into the church and ordered them to make three bows to the Queen of Heaven in front of the icon. Then he found out that all three were studying to be philologists, and he was delighted. “So remember that particles same, whether, would are written without a line!” And then he told one who she would be, named her two main activities in life. But he didn’t tell the other two. Although they also had something to say - one of them became a nun, and the other a priest’s wife. But Father Nikolai told only the third, everything was correct, everything came true later, every word of his, but why she alone does not know. Probably because she was the most restless. Her last name was Kucherskaya.

Right choice

One priest had a gift from God. Only the right aisle is still being repaired, the roof has been repaired for the second year, they are covering it with a curtain instead of an altar barrier, and already its silver domes are shining with golden stars, in the iconostasis there are icons of the sixteenth century, and one aisle has even been dug up and consecrated, under the temple, an underground aisle, for special occasions. Someone is just winning a house for a clergyman from the mayor's office, and he already has four such houses - one for a clergyman, another for a Sunday school, a third for orphan boys, and a fourth is a shelter for lonely old women. In each house - antique furniture, Voltaire armchairs, marble floors, crystal chandeliers - looking at the man-made beauty, people remember the beauty of God's creation, and then, you see, the Creator himself.

I sorted out the houses, bought three stores, all also Orthodox, one sells vestments, another sells church books, the third sells soy products, for the occasion of large and small fasts. I sorted out the shops and bought a stable. So that parishioners ride horses on holidays, don’t lose heart in vain, and don’t complain about each other. Well, where there is a stable, there is an area with attractions - they built their own miniature Disneyland, with Russian saints instead of Mickey and Donald.

I figured it out with the saints - I began to build an Orthodox swimming pool so that there would be somewhere to plunge after the grueling Lenten services or, conversely, horse races and carousel rides. They built a swimming pool and placed a sauna next to it. We installed a sauna - we need an Orthodox gym. We've built a gym, we need exercise equipment. We bought exercise equipment and need an Orthodox hotel. With a conference room. Because guests from abroad flocked to gain Orthodox pastoral experience from the priest. An Orthodox hotel was built, and an Orthodox airfield was needed. They built an airfield, launched dozens of charter flights to twenty-six countries of the world, and the priest, of course, has his own small Orthodox airplane, but also a helicopter, of course, too, to survey the property, and again, to take guests for rides.

True, some guests were very seasick; for them - what you wouldn’t do for the sake of your neighbor - they dug a canal to the Moscow River, organized pilgrimage cruises and an Orthodox fleet. But it was still slow going by water - where to go, they began to lay an Orthodox railway. But the road must also be protected from robbers and random people - they organized their own Orthodox army, with banners, a choir, everything that was required. Then the priest sees that it’s time to become an Orthodox president, he thought and thought, but gave up. If I’m also president, I won’t have time to serve, but I’m still a priest, according to the order of Melchizedek. He never became president, he remained a priest.

Visitation of God

One priest was very poor. The third priest in a church near Moscow, what kind of income is there? The abbot, if anything leaked, took it all for himself, and after the service demanded bribes from the priests. So the children of the third priest were dressed in cast-offs, mother huddled in an autumn jacket in winter, and the priest walked in the cold on foot for services, in a threadbare coat, with a suitcase peeling from time to time. One word, poverty.

Here God’s visit happened to the priest. An old friend from his school days, Yasha Sokolov, came to see him. Bless my house, he says, and I won’t be in debt. The rector was not in the city that day, and he did not learn anything about this matter. They got into some nice car and drove off. Suddenly they see a palace. With turrets, balconies, weather vanes, everything is as it should be. “This is my home,” says Yasha. They entered the palace, and everything there was made of pure gold. Chandeliers, tables, chairs. Only the handles are inlaid with emeralds and pearls. The priest was surprised, but well, he began to consecrate the palace. After the consecration, Yasha clapped his hands - a table with an unprecedented treat, foreign wines, printed gingerbreads came out of the wall, he clapped a second time - people came in, broad-shouldered guys, smart girls. “These are my friends,” Yasha explained and invited everyone to the table. The priest didn’t even know the name of many dishes, and he couldn’t try many of them - it didn’t fit.

Father sees that Yasha seems to have relaxed, pours it for him and himself, of course, does not forget, father asks him: “Where do you work, Yasha?” Yasha will laugh. And I couldn’t stop for a long time. He says we’re not supposed to work, it’s a waste, well, do you really understand who we are? “No, I don’t understand something,” the priest just won’t understand. Yasha and tell him: “We are bandits, okay?” “It’s clear,” the priest was frightened. “But don’t worry, we won’t touch you, you’re my sidekick and you’ll still be good for us.” Here Yasha and the priest generously paid, nodded to the invisible servants, and they took the priest home.

And from that incident the priest went from hand to hand: whom he would marry from Yasha’s friends, whom he would baptize, whom he would consecrate the castle again, and whom he would give unction after being wounded at the showdown. In a word, the priest went uphill from that day. He built a new house, dressed up his mother, sent the children to a private school, and they also need a good education, well, and bought himself a brand new Skoda (only white, to make it look more modest, the rector drove a Zhiguli). Soon, however, the rector was removed, our former third priest became the rector, but God knows, he didn’t look for it, somehow it just happened that way. What about the bandits? So what? Aren't they people? And cutting them off from the grace of God is a sin; there, you see, they will repent like the righteous thief on the cross. So see you soon in the abodes of heaven!

Only the priest could not do anything at all. He did not know how to repair the temple, and his temple remained in the forests for five years. I didn’t know how to intelligently engage in bookselling, knock out points, launch a book business.

He didn’t know how to win a clergyman’s house or even premises for a Sunday school. He did not have the necessary connections, generous sponsors, tens and hundreds of devoted children, he did not have a car, a cell phone, a computer, an e-mail, or even a pager. He did not have the gift of reasoning, the gift of miracles, the gift of insight, the gift of beautiful worship - he served in a quiet voice, so that if you stood far away, nothing could be heard. And what he didn’t have at all was the gift of speech; he mumbled and repeated the same thing over and over again. His mother could not be heard or seen, although he still had her, but they also did not have children. This is how the priest lived his life, and then died. His funeral service was held on a gloomy November day, and when people, according to custom, wanted to light candles, everyone’s candles lit themselves, and the temple was filled with an unearthly light.

One priest was a cannibal. A man comes to him for confession, but never returns home. A young couple comes to get married and disappears forever. They bring a baby to be baptized - both the baby and the godparents disappear. But the priest simply ate them all. Only during Lent everything was fine, people confessed to him, were baptized, and gathered together without any disappearances. The dean, of course, knew about this priest’s peculiarity, but he always said that there was no one to replace his priest, but how strictly the man kept his fast.

Tree of knowledge

Tanya and Grisha got married on Krasnaya Gorka and decided to go on a pilgrimage instead of a honeymoon. Without registration, without extra clothes and food, take only a little water, bread and go from monastery to monastery. Wherever they let you spend the night, say thank you. Where they feed you, God save you!

We set off early in the morning, the day after the wedding, rode for three hours by train, and then got out and walked. Grisha had all churches marked on the map with one cross, and monasteries with two. If everything went well, by evening they should have reached the first point - the Ascension Monastery. And so they walked along the road, sang prayers, read Jesus, then rested a little, had a light snack, and went again. And by the evening we were very tired. Especially Tanya, who was terribly hungry, because two buns with spring water are still not enough for the whole day. Tanya told Grisha: “Look, there’s a raspberry hanging over the fence, let’s pick it?” Grisha, who was also hungry but endured, finally answered her: “It’s immediately obvious that she’s a woman!” If you lived in paradise, you would act exactly the same as Eve.”

How is that? - Tanya clarified.

I would pick the fruit from the tree of knowledge and eat it.

I? No way. So Adam blamed everything on the woman, but he himself!

Grisha just laughed.

If the Lord had forbidden me, I would not have listened to any Eve.

Dusk fell on the earth. Tanya and Grisha were just approaching the new village. “Nikishkino!” - Tanya read loudly. And Grisha looked at the map - and realized that they would not be able to make it to the monastery, which they hoped to arrive in the evening. At least before dark. And they decided to take a risk - to ask someone for the night, right here, in this Nikishkin.

In two places they were turned away, and from the third house a grandfather in a green flannel shirt looked out and said: “Come in.” Tanya and Grisha were delighted! Moreover, the grandfather nodded towards the table, which was full of food, and told them to have dinner. But he himself began to get ready to go somewhere.

Aren't you going to have dinner with us? - asked polite Grisha and Tanya.

“I’ll go lock up the chickens,” the grandfather answered quite friendly. - You can eat here alone for now. Porridge, potatoes, the old woman prepared everything and went to see her daughter today, to Kutomkino, she won’t return. Warm up the tea. Just don’t touch this aluminum pan on the windowsill.

Tanya spotted a small paper icon in the chest of drawers, the couple read a prayer before eating, then had a hearty dinner, and everything seemed so tasty and fresh to them. But the old man still doesn’t come back. They put the kettle on, Tanya said: “I wish we had some pies.” With jam! When my grandmother baked pies, she always put them in exactly the same aluminum pan.” And Grisha answers her: “My grandmother usually left pancakes in such a pan, but she also wrapped the pan in a blanket so that it would not get cold.” Tanya argued: “Well, what pancakes!” There are pies here. People are not rich, they don’t have a vase, so they have to put it in a pan.” And Grisha told her: “I’m telling you, pancakes!” And Tanya: “Pies with jam.” Then Grisha got completely angry and said: “Well, let’s check.” They opened the saucepan, and from there came a mouse. Yurk! And she ran under the table. Then the old man comes in. And the cat is with him - rubbing between the owner’s legs, meowing, clearly asking the animal to eat. The old man walked up to the windowsill, opened the pan, and just spread his hands.

Eh, you! It was a cat's dinner.

Father Pavel

1. What was he like?

Father Pavel was a sweetheart. He often shouted “oh, infection!” and other obscene words. Sang folk songs. He told funny stories about himself. His education was “low, one year,” as it was written on his “personal arrest card.” And he was already 85 years old. His eyes could not see anything, torture with electric light in 1941 had an effect. And the priest’s legs could hardly walk, he was led by the arms, cell attendant Marya Petrovna on the right, volunteers on the left. “At this age, you can spin on your back and on your side!” - said the father. Some looked at him and cried, but he didn’t let them, he started joking.

2. Stop “Father Paul”

After returning from the camp, Father Pavel became a priest. He was no longer a young man. And he served in the rural Trinity Church for thirty-three years. People came to him from everywhere, of all ranks and professions. Everyone called the stop at which you had to get off to get into the village: “Father Pavel.” Father often repeated: “The people are not the servant of the priest, but the priest is the servant of the people.” But now it’s the other way around!”

3. Set lunch

One day Father Pavel, already old and half-blind, found himself in a big city. He served there together with one metropolitan. The Metropolitan gave Father Paul money for the return journey, and they parted. There was time left before the train, and Father Pavel decided to have lunch.

He walks into a cafe, and the girl behind the counter tells him:

And you, grandfather, better leave, you are poorly dressed.

And looks at his feet. And Father Pavel had felt boots on his feet; when he left his village, it was frosty, but when he arrived in the city, a thaw set in, and puddles of mud flowed from the felt boots onto the floor. The priest’s coat is also old, worn, and the suitcase in his hand is worn out, with priestly vestments inside. The girl apparently decided that it was some kind of tramp. Father Pavel left.

He comes to another cafe, more like a canteen, and they tell him: “We have set lunches here!” “Well,” Father Pavel answers, “that’s good.” He put his suitcase at the foot of the table, took the tray, and received a set lunch for it - first, second and compote. I put lunch on my table and just got ready to eat - I forgot my spoon and fork! He went to get a spoon and fork, came back, and a man was sitting at his table, eating his first meal. Here's a set lunch for you. Father Pavel sat down opposite and, without saying a word, began to eat his second meal. He ate the second dish, put the bread in his pockets, and divided the compote equally with the man.

Then the man gets up and goes to the exit. Father Pavel casually looked under the table - but there was no suitcase! That greedy guy stole it. I ate half of his lunch, and even took away his suitcase. Father Pavel got up from the table, ran after the thief, and suddenly looked at his suitcase. Just at another table. And the lunch on it is untouched. Confused!!! And there was no trace of the men. Here Father Pavel even got a headache - what a humble man he turned out to be, he didn’t say a word when Father Pavel ate half of his lunch!

Father Konstantin was a big entertainer. Everyone loved him for this. And they went to him for advice. So Pasha Egorov decided to ask the priest what he should do. Four years ago Pasha got married, married for great love, to Vika Kondratyeva, from the information department. Vika was not exactly a beauty, but very slender, she held her head high and walked beautifully, with long legs in high-heeled shoes - in general, Pasha could not live without her. And even when he got married, he didn’t stop loving her, but only loved her even more deeply. Vika, on the contrary, at first seemed to be okay with Pasha, she would cook dinner and even hug her, but then she began to get bored. And I was in no hurry to return home. Either he’ll stay somewhere with a friend, or he’ll go to the store after work, they’re like now, they’re all around the clock, after work it’s time. And Pasha sits at home and almost cries, even looks out the window. His Vichka was honest, and there was no one to be jealous of, but it was still a shame. The husband sits at home, but the wife doesn’t even show her nose! They started having scandals. And Vichka hugs him and says, “I’m bored, dear, at home.” At work there are papers, and at home the kitchen and you. Boring. And Pasha told her - am I a clown to entertain you? Well, they'll quarrel again. And Pasha decided to turn to the priest, to whom he went four times a year, through fasting, to confession, because our Pasha was a believer. Unlike, by the way, from his wife.

The priest asked Pasha everything, but while he was asking, he yawned twice, because Pasha had told various details in such detail that the priest answered him: “I see. She thinks you're boring. But we will do it this way.” And he told Pasha what to do.

And here again Vichka lingers somewhere for a long time, returns home, rings the doorbell, but no one opens it for her. It rings once and a third time - silence. She opens the door with her key - and Pashka’s boots and jacket are there in the corridor. So he's home! Vichka was a little wary. He takes off his shoes, goes into the room, and in the room you can’t breathe from the fumes, Pasha, drunk and smoking, is fast asleep on the floor and cigarette butts and empty bottles are lying on the carpet around him. But I must say that before this Pasha had never put anything intoxicating in his mouth and tried smoking only once, in the sixth grade, but since then he stopped. Vichka began to push Pasha with her feet, but Pasha only mumbled, and then suddenly opened his eyes. Yes, how he screams in a terrible, hoarse voice:

Darling! You've come!

And again he fell head on the floor and began to snore.

But Vichka pushed him away and began to demand an explanation.

My love! “I got drunk out of grief,” Pasha explained to her in slurred language, grinning stupidly all the time. - Because you are still not there. And I can't live without you.

Then Pasha picked up a cigarette butt from the floor and began looking for matches.

Why did you scatter cigarette butts all over the floor? So it’s not far from the fire! - Vika tried to attack him, but it was too late - Pasha dropped his cigarette butt and fell asleep again.

Then Vika somehow undressed Pasha, dragged him onto the sofa, covered him with a blanket, collected the cigarette butts, swept away the ashes, took out the bottles (one from Zhigulevsky, two from Nevsky and Stolichnaya), and closed the door to the room. And she sat down in the kitchen to watch TV - they were just showing “A Woman’s View” by Oksana Pushkina, Vika’s favorite show.

The next morning, Pasha apologized terribly to Vika, kissed her hands, begged her to forgive and kept repeating that it was he out of grief. Vika forgave him and told all the girls in her information department how much her husband loved her. But a few days later, Olya Motina called her to a sale, the Kopeika store was going bankrupt or something else, and organized a sale of electrical appliances at incredible prices. Yesterday Motina already bought a mixer there, and today she also wants a juicer - yesterday she simply didn’t have enough money. And Vichka just needed a new iron. She returns home with a box - Pasha is drunk again. True, he is not lying on the floor, but in a chair, and cigarette butts are floating in a cup of water. But there are even more bottles than last time.

Since then, Vichka began to come home on time. And with Pasha she seemed interested - it turned out that he knew how to get drunk and smoke. Again, there is something to tell your girlfriends at work.

But this is not the miracle at all. The miracle is that none of the observant neighbors told Vika how her husband walked around the yard for two evenings in a row with tweezers and two plastic bags - he picked up cigarette butts with tweezers. And in another bag he put empty bottles.

Father Konstantin had never laughed so much in his life.

Superman

One priest was a superman. His grandmother calls him and says: “Father, the door closed, the key was left inside, I don’t know what to do.” Father arrives, kicks down the door, fixes the lock, and leaves. The next day, two sisters call, they got promoted, became businesswomen, but bandits came and threatened to burn everything. The priest immediately goes to the gangster meeting, chuckling, looking at the bulging pockets of his brothers, quickly explains everything to everyone, the brothers agree not to run into them anymore, the priest leaves. In the evening after the service, a crying mother approaches the priest - her son, a fourteen-year-old teenager, has disappeared, got involved with bad company, did not spend the night at home the second night. The priest calls the right people, negotiates with the police, serves an akathist, and in the evening the policeman brings the boy home by the hand.

The priest was also on short terms with the possessed. In the middle of the service, an abnormal woman enters the church, begins to scream something terribly, the priest comes out of the altar, lifts the woman by the elbows, carries her out of the church, returns to the altar, and continues to serve. One grandfather almost died of hunger at home, everyone forgot about him - the priest remembered, fed him, gave him communion, grandfather still lives. Another man’s wife fell ill with cancer, he went to church for the first time out of grief, and came across the priest. Father served a health prayer service for three days in a row. A week later, my wife’s cancer was gone. The doctors shouted, called her a malingerer, and she went home and laughed all over the street, not embarrassed by anyone. There is no end to these stories. The priest saved someone from despair, someone from death, helped someone sort out their relationship with their husband, someone with their wife, prayed for someone, and the very next morning he was given a warrant for a three-room apartment, for whom He prayed some more, and the girl found herself a groom. Another successfully passed a difficult exam, the third finally gave birth, the seventh simply understood what was good and what was bad, the forty-eighth decided not to throw himself from the eighth floor.

And he went everywhere, preached, helped, consoled. So twenty-three years passed. Suddenly something happened to the priest. He did everything the same, came, gave communion, but he could no longer console anyone, as if he had forgotten all the necessary words. That is, sometimes he even remembered and said the very words that he usually said in such cases, but it turned out dead. It’s an amazing thing, people practically didn’t notice this, apparently, everything was covered by the grace of the priesthood, and the priest was still wildly popular, crowds flocked to his church, confession lasted past midnight, in a word, outwardly everything remained the same, only his cell attendant Misha and his mother saw : Father is not the same anymore.

But the priest hardly spoke to them and answered all the questions of his loved ones briefly: “It’s just that I’m already dead.” Of course, they didn’t believe him: how did he die? Who is this talking to us now? And they didn’t believe it. However, the priest served less and less often, and then he almost stopped receiving people, not paying attention to anyone’s tearful requests, and spent all his free time in his room. There he sat and looked at one point. And when they turned to him, he said: “I’m not at home.” Or, as usual: “I died.” Nobody believed him anyway. The doctors came, fed the priest various pills, massaged him, encouraged him, and in general everyone understood: well, the man was tired. But the priest was not tired, he lay down and died.

Father Mitrofan

1. If a wife complained about her husband, or about her mother-in-law, or about a neighbor, Father Mitrofan gave her the same advice: “Kill him.”

How to kill? - the woman was amazed.

Smother with a pillow or add arsenic to your tea.

Sometimes he added: “Or you can send it to a meat processing plant and cut it into sausages.”

After that, they stopped complaining about his loved ones.

2. To those who were planning to have an abortion, Abba said: “Give birth, and then leave it in the stroller in the cold, as if by accident, it will squeak and freeze, and everything will be fine. This is a sin less than abortion.”

Why smaller? - the expectant mother was surprised.

Check it out - you'll see.

But no one ever checked.

Father Artemy

Father Artemy graduated from the Faculty of Philology of Moscow State University named after the great Russian scientist and educator Mikhail Vasilievich Lomonosov. As soon as the priest opened his mouth, the silky grasses lay on the ground, the fragrant flowers bowed their heads, the tall and strong trees dropped their fruits, the birds of the sky folded their wings and fell silent, not daring to continue their sweet, wonderful songs, the forest animals, shaggy and tailed, stopped their hasty run, sniffed and wiggled their ears in reverent bewilderment, the sea fish froze and only occasionally splashed their tails and blew a bubble. People recorded Father’s sermons on dictaphones and videotapes, and published his books in thousands of copies. Some were tempted and rubbed their temples.

“But it’s simple,” said one servant of God who loved Artemy’s father, “priest, from great stress and his great busyness, forgot all the Russian words and uses Old Russian ones, because in Old Church Slavonic and Old Russian he only got straight A’s at the university. And if you place a translator with the priest, everything will immediately become fine. The priest will say, “We must remember that we must shake off the ashes of godlessness, and especially pride and the most destructive conceit, from our feet.” This means that you need to stop sinning. See how simple it is! And there’s nothing to be tempted about.”

Beauty will save the world

One woman, Asya Morozova, was such a beauty that the world had never seen. The eyes are dark, looking into the very soul, the eyebrows are black, curved, as they were drawn, there’s nothing to even say about the eyelashes - half the face. Well, the hair is light brown, thick and lies in a soft wave. Asya was bored with studying, and at the age of 19 she quit studying. All the teachers gave her B’s simply for her unearthly beauty, only the computer science student (a single woman, 56 years old) was stubborn, and Asya did not want to retake it and took away the documents. She had so many fans that she turned off her phone a long time ago and pulled her cap over her eyes so that they wouldn’t see her. But the hat didn’t help either. She herself, of course, didn’t like anyone. They were all kind of assholes. And she didn’t want to take money from them, why on earth. But she still wanted to live like a human being. Her parents were in another city, both were already middle-aged, plus two sisters, in general, she had to rely on herself. Well, how can a decent girl earn money? And Asya became a prostitute. She worked, of course, not on some Tverskaya, but in a small private boarding house. And I received crazy amounts of money. Asya herself set fees for clients, and there was no case when anyone refused her. The boarding house served wealthy, trusted people, only by appointment; drug use and excessive libations were not encouraged; in general, the girls lived there like in Christ’s bosom.

So it would go on until one day a very strange man came to this cozy brothel.

It was raining outside, October was ending, all the girls were yawning and bored, twelve o'clock in the afternoon, dead time. Again, rain. But then the doorbell rang. A stranger stood on the threshold, water was dripping from his umbrella, the guest looked unhappy and wet, but even through the water it was clear: he was not at all like the local visitors. He looked to be about forty years old, he was very pale, his beard grew to his waist, and water was dripping from the tip of it.

Asya laughed. Never in her life had she seen such funny bearded men.

Are you a professor?

But the bearded man only silently looked at Asya and did not say a word. The owner of the house winked at Asya, whispered something in the bearded man’s ear, he nodded, and Asya led the client to the second floor.

In the room, the man thoroughly patted his beard with a towel, and then opened the large black bag that he had brought with him. From the bag he took out a long black robe, put a golden cross on top, then took out a long narrow apron made of golden fabric, hung it around his neck, and then the same solid golden cuffs with laces. And he tied his shoelaces. Asya looked at him silently. The man turned out to be a priest. The priest drew a cross on all four walls with a pencil.

Then he asked for a basin of water, the shower and toilet were right in the room, and Asya immediately brought him water. After that, the priest opened a thick cherry book and began to sing prayers and then splash water. Asya sat in a chair and listened to prayers - in addition to “Lord, have mercy,” she made out another strange repeated word that sounded like a cough - “Zacchaeus.” Finally, generally quite quickly, the priest stopped reading, put the book and the broom with which he was splashing water back into his bag, took off his cassock and cross and bowed at Asya’s feet. Asya jumped away. Of course, many knelt before her, but in a different way. And the man got up easily and was about to leave.

What does all of this mean? - Asya shouted.

Interesting? - this was the first thing that the bearded man finally said on his own, not from the book. At the same time, he smiled and looked at Asya, also somehow different from everyone else. And his gaze struck Asya so much that she couldn’t even respond properly. Because this look was very affectionate and did not want anything. And Asya was silent.

Come to us at the Petrovsky Monastery, on Kaluga Val, ask Father Luka, I will explain everything to you,” the man added.

I will also come to you! - Asya finally came to her senses and shrugged.

Then Father Luke left. Asya asked him not to take a penny from him. The abbess listened to her, Asya was in a special position at the boarding house - the main source of income.

After that day, Asya was replaced - she always wanted to see the bearded priest. It’s too wonderful,” he looked. She could barely wait for the day off; she was usually given Tuesday or Wednesday, the least profitable ones. And so Asya dressed more modestly, caught a taxi and ordered to be taken to Kaluga Val. The taxi brought her to the white wall of the monastery. At this point Asya got a little scared, but when she saw that everyone who wanted to was coming through the open gate, she boldly headed forward. There was a monk standing at the gate, like a guard, Asya asked Father Luka, and soon the same bearded man, in a long cassock, a small black cap, without a cross, was already approaching Asya. Father Luke Ase was not at all surprised and led her to a large golden-domed church that stood in the middle of the monastery. In the church, the priest sat down with her on a bench and spoke to her as if he were an old friend.

It’s good that you found me,” said the priest.

And I myself don’t know why I came here,” Asya sighed. - Yes, only after you visited us, I became very bored. And my old life is not sweet to me. Because actually there is nothing good about it! And I want something else.

What?

So that you can get me out of there.

Doesn't it depend on you alone?

No, because the income that I bring to that house is very large, no one will let me go while I’m young, and they will find me even underground.

They talked like this for a long time, discussing plans for Asya’s salvation and issues of Christian virtue. When they started talking about the sin of voluptuousness, Father Luka told Asya his own story.

You see, I've lost God. I will not tell you in detail how this happened, because it happened gradually, step by step, but in the end I almost did not believe in His existence, and therefore in the justice of everything that the church tells us. The soul cannot remain empty for long, it thirsts for food, any kind, and if not divine, then earthly, carnal... I came to you for what everyone comes there for, the demon of fornication cruelly tormented me long before I began to lose faith. At first I fought as best I could, but the further I moved away from God, the more defenseless I became in front of my thoughts and lustful passion. I found the phone number of your house in the newspaper, the advertisement said that this was a place for “well-intentioned” people, this made me laugh and I really liked it. And I, like a “well-meaning monk,” phoned your hostess and found out the way.

I told the abbot that I had been called to the next service, to consecrate the apartment, this is customary here - many of the brethren often go to the city for services. To divert attention and reassure myself, I took with me my usual luggage, a bag with vestments and everything necessary. And went straight into the arms of the devil.

I wandered around the neighborhood for a long time and could not find your house despite the instructions. It was pouring rain, I was soaked to the skin and was ready to run. It was as if the Lord himself held me to the last. But having already decided to return with nothing, I finally came across the right place. Several times I walked past this two-story mansion, sure that it was someone’s beautiful office or bank, until I looked at the windows - white curtains with colored butterflies. I realized that most likely I was right where I needed to be. I called, said the agreed upon phrase, they opened the door for me, and then... I saw you. I was blinded. Can a person be so beautiful? If there is such beauty on earth, then there is the Lord. All doubt about the existence of God and His infinite mercy, His love for us, warming and all-merciful, completely left me. I felt that the Lord was close. For many months I suffered from disbelief, despondency, melancholy, for many months I dreamed of a woman, forgive me for speaking to you so frankly, and now - in an instant! All doubts and all desires left me. I was in a kind of shocked delight.

“I remember, I remember how you looked at me,” Asya laughed.

Since you’ve already come, do your job, I told myself,” Father Luke continued. “And he began to consecrate the room. And then he returned to the monastery. That's my whole story.

Why didn't you talk to me there, right away? - asked Asya.

I was afraid of losing the joy that I had so suddenly received. And what could I say? What is ten times worse than you, what is a hypocrite, a sensualist and an apostate?

Why didn’t you stay with me there for what everyone comes there for? Then your joy would become even stronger.

When God is near, none of this is needed anymore, and all lust completely leaves a person, he becomes inaccessible to sin.

What do you think of our work? Is it a big sin?

Truly this is more disgusting to God than any sin.

They talked like that for several hours. Asya did not return to the brothel. On the same day, Father Luke baptized her and dressed her in an inconspicuous cassock, which greatly changed her appearance. For three months, Asya lived in a closet at the monastery, together with the women who prepared food for the monks, confessed, talked with Father Luke, repented and cleansed her soul, and ended up going to a distant convent. By Christmas, Father Luka received a touching postcard, and by Easter a telegram: During Great Lent, Asya was found in the forest near the monastery with a broken head. The killers were not found, but Father Luka, having received the sad news, could not recover from shock for several days. He even went to the police, told about the house he visited once, but when he went to show where it was located, he never found it. The cozy mansion has definitely disappeared.

This story has been told in other ways. Having turned Asya to the path of truth and love, Father Luka could not resist her beauty and proposed to her. Soon they got married. Father Luka took off his rank and took off his hair. Their children turned out to be very beautiful, but still not like their mother. The brethren of the monastery at first thought that Father Luke had died without return, his relatives and children wept for him, until the Elder of the monastery said one day at a meal, as if by the way: “Don’t mourn for Borenka (Luke’s worldly name), he will remain alive.”

Mandelstam Street

Deacon Gregory, a graduate of the Literary Institute, loved Pushkin with passion. Well, I just loved it. At the sermons that he was sometimes tasked with delivering, no, no, and he would also include a poem or a quote from his favorite poet, about Onegin and Masha Mironova, he spoke as if about living people, and at night, after all the rules and bows, he would take a volume and reads it a little and always cries with emotion - he wrote very well, son of a bitch. The brethren nicknamed Gregory Pushkin.

But one day Father Deacon had a dream - a huge field, yellow and empty, apparently, only the rye had been harvested, sparse spikelets lay on the border, and along this prickly field Alexander Sergeevich himself was walking towards him, curly-haired, agile, all so familiar and recognizable, and the wind blows the curls from your forehead. But at the same time, Pushkin is terribly sad. The deacon sat down like that.

Alexander Sergeevich, is that you?

Well, I,” answered Pushkin.

Why, why are you so sad? - Father Gregory almost cried.

But Alexander Sergeevich remained silent to this and looked at him with even greater sadness.

Oh, Alexander Sergeevich, if only you knew what glory you have on earth! - the priest shouted.

What is glory to me?! - Pushkin answered quietly and lowered his head even lower.

But if not you, if not you, then who? - the amazed Father Gregory continued to exclaim.

Then Pushkin suddenly straightened up, a vague smile ran across his lips, and with only his eyes he pointed somewhere upward, behind the deacon’s back - they say, you better look there. Father Gregory turned around, raised his head and saw a birch tree. Osip Emilievich Mandelstam was sitting on a birch tree. And Mandelstam, on the contrary, seemed very cheerful, laughed, waved his arms as if he were a bird, and seemed to chirp something, but not like a human being.

Then the father woke up.

He has since abandoned Pushkin, reads only Mandelstam and memorizes his entire collected works.

Good man

1. One priest was an unbeliever. He did everything as expected and tried very hard, but somehow he didn’t believe in God. In general, everyone knew about this, but they forgave him, but like before, if you are a communist, you don’t necessarily believe in communism. Well, so does Father. The main thing is that the person is good.

2. One priest suffered from kleptomania. Either he’ll steal a gold cross from the church, or he’ll just steal a ten from the deacon’s pocket. Everyone generally knew about this, but they understood - well, a kleptomaniac. The main thing is that the person is good. Father valued people's trust and, when the pile of stolen things in his house became too high, he put everything stolen in a large bag and distributed it to the poor on the porch. This is what a good person means.

3. One priest didn’t like gay people. But he didn’t like even more when they said about some monks, or even those higher up, that they were all that in their monastery. Here this priest darkened his face, looked at his interlocutor point-blank and said very clearly: “There are no blue priests!” He got up, left the room, twitched the corner of his mouth, and drank Valocordin. But why bother spoiling your nerves? The main thing is that the person is good.

Princess Frog

Once upon a time there lived an abbess Raisa. She was once a kind, good woman, but now she has become an abbess, and it’s as if she has been replaced. She didn’t love anyone anymore, she didn’t make friends with anyone. Life was bad for the sisters under her, sorrowful and painful. But not everyone. Mother had close associates, the dean and the treasurer, somehow they knew how to please mother, although they put up with a lot from her. The worst of all were those who were neglected, those who were once guilty of something, did not please the abbess, spoke crossly or bowed at the wrong time - Mother Raisa hated them with fierce hatred and drove them away from the world as best she could. She ordered them not to give them parcels and letters, didn’t let them go to the city to see doctors, set the sisters against them, forced them to do men’s work, carry logs, chop wood, didn’t allow them to go to services until everything was done, and they didn’t go to church for months . And to every murmur she answered with one thing: “Obedience is higher than fasting and prayer. Are you nuns or what?”

Some of these outcasts changed monasteries, some went home and, out of embitterment of heart, stopped going to church altogether, others fell ill from overwork and remained disabled for life, and still others were forgiven by mother. But it was very difficult to earn forgiveness. So the monastic life went on, unknown to anyone, outwardly quiet and calm, until the novice Anna fell into the lower classes. Now it seems that the hour of God’s will has come.

Anna was originally from St. Petersburg, worked as a physics teacher, and at the age of thirty-two she came to the monastery. She lived here for the third year, worked in various obediences, most recently in a sewing workshop, she was known for her evenness and cheerfulness of character, in general she had good data, a good profile, it was time to place her somewhere, maybe get a haircut and a promotion , or maybe lower it and not cut it. And Mother Superior summoned Anna to her place.

She’s been in the monastery for so many years, and she’s still a novice. Because you don’t have the right leadership,” the abbess explained to Anna. “I want to take on you myself, and as your mother I want to listen to what your thoughts are, what burdens your soul, what you have sinned.” I'm listening.

Anna was silent.

“I’m listening,” the abbess repeated sternly.

Mother, thank you for your care and maternal help, but last night I already went to confession, and told Father Andrey all my thoughts, all my sins, but I haven’t accumulated any new thoughts yet...

O stupid and unreasonable, O naive and senseless child! How did you respond to your boss? Is this how you should have spoken to your main caretaker about the stupidity of your soul, who has replaced your very own mother? You yourself led yourself to destruction, with your false innocence (the mask of pride) and the ingenuousness of your answer, yourself!

Haven't accumulated? Haven't accumulated? Haven't accumulated? - the abbess screamed in terrible anger and stamped her feet.

Do you want to learn how to sew vestments? - Mother continued to shout, recalling their old conversation with Anna. - You will learn from me. Tomorrow you will go to the cowshed.

And she screamed for a long time, citing quotes from the holy fathers, calling Anna a “pig”, “creature”, a criminal and other abusive words. But Anna didn't even cry. Creature.

The next day she went to the barn. And at least that's it. The cows fell in love with Anna; as soon as she entered the barn, they began to moo in unison, as if welcoming her, and the calves rushed to lick her hands and boots. Anna just laughed. Several months passed like this. The difficult work did not seem to exhaust her, but only amused her.

Then Anna was moved to a damp cell, where the ceiling was dripping and the plaster was peeling off. Mother Anna first put up a basin, and then got some plaster from somewhere and patched the ceiling. Then mother Joasafa was secretly instructed to let cockroaches into Anna’s cell, in families, one by one, but Anna called the cockroaches children, fed them with bread, and Joasafa herself once spied how in the evening, shortly before bedtime, the cockroaches, at Anna’s command, set off in an even formation on the windowsill through the open window, on the tree growing near the cell - to spend the night. Mother Superior, in response to this story, breaking a vase, shouted: “Women's fables! It’s November outside, zero degrees!”

And she sent Anna to a construction site as a laborer. Anna, nothing again. She carries cement in a bucket, her face is cheerful, as if she is in a rest home, and not at hard work. And at least she had a runny nose! No runny nose. Here the abbess persuaded her sister, a former physician who served as a monastery doctor, to examine Anna more closely and find her weak points. It turned out that in her youth Anna had problems with her heart. Then the abbess sent her to the laundry, into the steam, the heat, no one could stand it there for a long time. The sisters worked in the laundry on a strict schedule, no more than a month a year. Anna worked for six months and again it was as if nothing had happened! And this began to torment Raisa’s mother terribly, because she couldn’t bring Anna to the same state as everyone else. The rest of the lowered ones still walked around pale, exhausted, at the sight of mother they began to tremble and immediately fell to their knees, either in the mud or in the snow. Only with such prostrations could one earn her forgiveness - everyone knew that. And the best informers came out of those who were forgiven.

Anna did not fall to her knees, she bowed to her mother to the ground, at her feet, like everyone else, and still... smiled slightly! The abbess ordered to check whether the novice was mentally damaged, but the most reliable agents reported to mother that Anna spoke to them quite sensibly. And when asked what was the reason for her cheerful appearance, she answered that, of course, it was hard for her, but her conscience was calm...

And then the abbess decided to kill her completely. She called Anna to her and said:

Here's a task for you, Anna. The workers just can’t finish finishing the prosphora, apparently the demon is taking them away from this holy work, not allowing them to complete the work, and there is only a few hours of work left. I see that you are struggling and will defeat the evil one - complete the prosphora. I give you until tomorrow morning. Can you handle it?

Bless! - answered Anna, without objecting a word to her mother, although she could have objected: they had just begun to build the prosphora and there was at least two months of construction left there!

“God bless,” answered the mother and crossed the novice. - If you don’t build it...

She didn’t finish, but it had been rumored for a long time in the monastery that two nuns, especially not pleasing to mother, had disappeared somewhere. The nuns' relatives made a fuss, even the police came, but they found no traces. Mother told her relatives: “Russia is big,” and the police simply stayed in her office for a short time and left. And since then they have never visited the monastery.

And then the night passes, in the morning mother goes out into the street: Lord Jesus! The prosphora is worth it. And Anna sweeps the construction debris out of it with a broom!

The abbess was even more angry than ever with Anna.

Here’s one more task for you, my dear, and after that I’ll petition the Bishop for your tonsure. It is necessary to dig a new deep well; the water in the old one has begun to rot. Everything must be ready by the next morning; the sisters should not drink rotten water, you understand!

Bless.

God bless.

The abbess wakes up the next morning, and the cell attendant brings her a ladle of clean, clear water.

Mother! The well is ready.

How mother gets out of bed, how she splashes a ladle in the face of the cell attendant, how she screams in a terrible voice:

Witchcraft! The girl is being helped.

The abbess called her two most devoted sisters, the dean and the treasurer, and ordered them the next night to track down Anna and find out who was helping the damned girl.

And he gives the novice a new task - to plant an apple orchard in the field near the monastery, so that the apples will already be ripe by morning, and she, the abbess, will try them for breakfast.

Anna just bowed to her silently. Late in the evening Anna went to the field, followed by disguised sisters, one crawling with branches on her head, the second in a camouflage suit.

And then the sisters saw that Anna knelt down in the middle of the field and began to pray fervently.

O All-Holy and Almighty Almighty! Don’t leave me, give me time to repent, don’t let my soul perish... O beloved and sweetest Jesus, be merciful to me who is weak, send me Your holy help, help me plant an apple orchard...

And immediately after these words, the night sky was illuminated by an unearthly light, the heavens opened, winged young men flew onto the field, each holding a shovel in his right hand, and a small seedling in his left. The young men began to dig the ground and plant apple trees in it. And all this with some kind of angelic, inhuman speed. Less than half an hour had passed before the field was planted with thin seedlings. Then the sky darkened and it started to rain. A few minutes later, having lightly watered the ground, the rain subsided. And the apple trees grew and grew and soon turned into wonderful young trees. Black buds swelled on the branches, leaves came out of the buds, white buds appeared, and the garden began to bloom. Anna continued to pray and cry bitterly.

The flowers flew around, and apples began to ripen on the branches, turning from green dots into smooth green balls. Anna prayed. And the balls suddenly turned golden right before the eyes of the shocked spies.

It began to get light, and the winged young men suddenly disappeared, somehow disappeared into the air, the treasurer and the dean did not even have time to track this. There was only one left, the last young angel, and he went straight to the bush behind which they were hiding. Approaching the sisters, frozen in fear, the young man said in a thunderous voice:

Tell Abbess Raisa that she has greatly angered the All-Merciful Lord, and therefore she has only a few hours left to live, during which she can still repent. If she does not repent, unbearable and terrible torment awaits her soul! Before he dies, let him not forget to look into the cellar in the distant apiary.

With these words the young man disappeared.

Not remembering themselves, the sisters ran to the monastery. And they told everything to mother, but she didn’t believe them for a long time, screamed, hit her on the cheeks, asked how they knew about the apiary, but the treasurer and the dean repeated that they were only telling what they heard from the bright young man in the apple orchard.

But mother no longer wanted to listen to anything, and, exclaiming: “What should I repent of! I have nothing to repent of!”, suddenly her face turned black, fell and died.

That same evening, having learned about the death of the abbess, a watchman from a distant apiary ran to the monastery and fell at the feet of the sisters. The watchman led the sisters to a small cellar, which was located not far from the apiary, opened the doors of the cellar, and the same sisters who disappeared a year ago came out of the dungeon, singing and heavenly joy on their faces.

The treasurer and the dean quietly fled from the monastery, throwing away the keys and leaving the cellars open. For several days the sisters rejoiced, having arranged great consolation for themselves at meals. And then they got together and elected Anna as their boss. She ruled the monastery happily ever after.

Ballerina

You see, father,” one novice said to the priest, “somehow I’m bored in the monastery.” But I studied ballet from the age of four, almost became a ballerina, but when I went to the monastery, I threw away all my pointe shoes, and my tutu, and the photographs of me dancing. Now sometimes I just want to dance.

The priest did not answer the novice, but a month later on Angel’s Day he gave her a gift - pink satin pointe shoes and a real tutu.

The novice was very happy, tried on the pointe shoes, and they fit her well.

“When you remember your distant past,” said the priest, “and you want to get into the third or sixth position, I bless you to put on pointe shoes, a tutu and dance as much as your soul desires.” At least in our conference room, there is no one there yet. And take the key from Eustathia.

But since then the novice no longer wanted to dance. She never asked for the key to the hall, she put her pointe shoes and pack in a distant chest and did not think about them for many months. However, a year passed, and in the evening of her former angel day (because she soon became a nun, and her name was changed), mother opened the lid, looked at the priest’s gifts, remembered his warmth and endless love and prayed for the repose of Hieromonk Andrian - the priest had been gone for a long time alive.

Devotional Stories for Sunday School Reading

1. The story of the Orthodox hedgehog

One Orthodox hedgehog lived in his hole in the roots of an old oak tree. And the squirrel upstairs in the hollow was non-Orthodox.

Dear squirrel! - the hedgehog addressed her more than once. - You are not Orthodox. Come to your senses! You need to be baptized in our river.

“But I’m afraid of water,” answered the squirrel, noisily gnawing on a nut.

We must overcome fear.

But the squirrel could not comprehend the great benefit that her squirrel soul would receive after converting to the true faith.

Over time, the hedgehog baptized all the animals, bugs and spiders in the forest and taught everyone one simple prayer. “No matter what happens, no matter what happens,” the hedgehog explained, “you just need to repeat: “Glory to God!” Even the squirrel learned this easy prayer. The hedgehog taught her to cross herself with her paw and ordered her to cling tightly to a branch with her tail and bow to the east. The squirrel agreed to bow, she generally loved physical exercise, but she still refused to plunge into the river, even for the sake of baptism.

However, here God sent the hedgehog an assistant in his missionary work. A ladybug flew to the hedgehog's hole, hiding in the roots of a tree with a squirrel's hollow. Ladybug had a polka dot scarf tied around her head, and in her hands she held a rosary made of the same black polka dots, and she looked very humble. The hedgehog told the cow about his fruitless attempts to persuade the squirrel to be baptized.

Since then,” said Ladybug, “when I found out that I was not a simple bug, but a ladybug, and even a ladybug, I have been constantly praying to God. Believe me, little squirrel, there is nothing sweeter than life in Christ and praying the rosary.

But the squirrel didn’t want to listen to anything, she still jumped, cracked nuts and giggled.

I think I have an idea! - the usually sedate and serious hedgehog suddenly jumped up and down.

A few days later he made a wonderful rosary. The hedgehog strung nuts onto a long thread and showed the rosary to the squirrel.

“They will be yours as soon as you overcome your fear,” said the hedgehog.

The squirrel immediately found itself at the very roots of the old oak tree. All three - the hedgehog, the squirrel and the ladybug - went to the river that flowed not far from the strawberry meadow. The squirrel trembled all the way and wanted to return, but the hedgehog showed her a nut rosary, and the squirrel walked forward.

Finally they reached their river. Ladybug volunteered to be the godmother, and the hedgehog volunteered to be the godfather. They immersed the squirrel in water, read the necessary prayers, but when they finished reading them, they saw that the squirrel was no longer breathing. She choked!

Nothing! - The hedgehog waved his paw. - God bless!

Yes,” agreed Ladybug. - After all, she died Orthodox. God bless!

God bless! - all the leaves, flowers, birds, bugs, animals and little black boogers picked up around.

1) Do you approve of the behavior of the hedgehog and Ladybug?

2) What would you do if you were a hedgehog? In place of the squirrels?

3) Act out the story in person.

2. True repentance

Vitya Ivanov was a bad Christian. He didn’t listen to teachers, didn’t learn his lessons, offended girls, got into fights during recess. He brought chewing gum, a slingshot, or a straw to school and shot everyone with chewed pieces of paper, and on New Year’s Eve he brought firecrackers and blew them up right under the principal’s window. In general, Vitya was a hooligan. Despite the fact that he studied at an Orthodox gymnasium.

Many times teachers tried to reason with him, repeating to him that bad behavior does not lead to good, but stubborn Vitya did not want to listen to them!

And what? Soon Vitya’s mother fell ill with cancer, then her sister went blind, then her grandmother was paralyzed and the house burned down, and Vitya himself broke his leg while jumping down the stairs. Only in the hospital, lying in a cast, with his leg suspended from the ceiling, did Vitya realize how wrong he was. “Forgive me, Lord!” - Vitya exclaimed, wetting his pillow with bitter tears. At that very second, his mother recovered, his sister regained her sight, his grandmother got out of bed and walked, friends gave Vita’s mother a new house (they had an extra one), and Vita’s leg immediately grew together. The doctors just threw up their hands.

This is what true repentance means, children!

Questions and tasks after the text.

1) Why did Vitina’s mother get cancer, why did her sister go blind, and why did her grandmother become paralyzed?

2) Was Vitya’s repentance true?

3) When was the last time you went to confession?

Normal person

Zhenya Snegireva could not get married. Three years have already passed since college, and still nothing. And Zhenya had only two entertainments - to go to a theater premiere, because since childhood she loved the theater, and to go to church, because in her first year Zhenya was baptized by everyone. In church, Zhenya prayed for only one thing, once even imposed a three-day fast on herself, but no one turned up. Only Vanya Sinitsyn, he worked as an agent in their travel company, but Vanya doesn’t count because Vanya Sinitsyn turned out to be an unbeliever. And Zhenya’s spiritual father did not bless Zhenya to marry Vanya. Vanya, however, did not offer, they only sometimes went to lunch together, but Zhenya still decided to stock up on blessings in order to react correctly at the right moment. I didn’t stock up: “Living with an unbeliever is torture!” - that’s what the father told her.

There was nothing to do, Zhenya went to the elder. In the Trinity-Sergius Lavra, pray, bow to St. Sergius, and, well, to the elder. The old man was old, gray-haired, sighed heavily all the time, looked at Zhenya carefully and said:

Baby, pray to the Reverend, he will help.

And Zhenya came out comforted. Immediately I went into the Trinity Church, venerated the relics and prayed.

Father Sergius! Beg for me an Orthodox groom!

I lit a candle, listened to the akathist, and - on the train, home. And on the train opposite her there’s a young man sitting, and he’s so handsome! With a mustache, in a black uniform jacket. And he occasionally glances at Zhenya. Zhenya became flushed and completely squirmed. And the young man suddenly says:

Are you coming from Lavra?

Zhenya just nodded silently.

And I study there.

Word by word, we got acquainted, it turned out that Alexey was studying at the seminary, going home for the weekend, he did not enter it immediately after school, he was still working and served in the army, so he was suitable for Zhenya’s age.

“This is what the prayer of St. Sergius means! This is what the intercession of a saint means! So what? And I’ll be a mother,” Zhenya thought to herself, dictating her phone number to Alyosha.

And Zhenya started dating Alyosha. As Zhenya asked in prayer, he turned out to be completely Orthodox. He loved to talk about the salvation of the soul, the shrines of the Russian land, the Masonic conspiracy, and took Zhenya to services. For the liturgy, all-night vigil, prayer services. But, by the way, he didn’t propose; apparently, he was looking closely, but for now, for training, he began to treat her as a future wife.

He told her how to dress - only a skirt and even a headscarf indoors! I scolded her when she ate chocolate during Lent. He got angry when she timidly objected to him and said that she didn’t believe in the conspiracy. And when Zhenya suggested that he go to the theater, he rolled his eyes and screamed: devilry! Naked girls! Perverts! This is what your theater is.

And Zhenya thought - the groom is a little crazy. And she went to the theater alone, and Alyosha, when he found out about this, told her: “You know, I decided that I would be a monk, because the monastic path is higher.” And he didn’t call again.

What can you do, Zhenya went again to the elder: “Father, I begged for an Orthodox groom, but he turned out to be different!”

But the old man only smiled and said nothing. Then Zhenya realized that he had nothing more to say, and again turned to St. Sergius for help.

Father Sergius! Send me a groom, I don’t need an Orthodox one anymore, just a good, normal person!

He rides back on the train, looks in all directions - but there are only old women, drunken men, and mothers with two children around. Nothing suitable. The next day Zhenya comes to work, well, and there they are all the same - and Vanya Sinitsyn, as always, looks at her, smiles, and then goes up to her desk.

It's been a while since we had lunch together?

At lunch, finishing his fruit drink, Vanya suddenly says to Zhenya:

Today is Fomenka's premiere, let's go for an extra ticket, maybe we'll get lucky?

Zhenya agreed. And they began to go to theaters and cinema, Vanya also turned out to be no stranger to art. He gave Zhenya flowers, occasionally took her to a cafe, held her hand, did not try to kiss her, which Zhenya also really liked, sometimes they went to church and listened to them sing. Zhenya told Vanya something about the church and Christianity, and Vanya listened, sometimes he asked, sometimes he was silent, but in general he agreed with everything. And one evening, walking Zhenya home, he said: “In short, I love you.”

Living with an unbeliever is torment! Yes, the fact of the matter is that soon Vanya was baptized, and on Krasnaya Gorka Zhenin the priest married them. They lived happily ever after.

Letter to Father

For the glory of God

We people are not from here, we ended up in Diveevo by the grace of God. And that’s all Father Seraphim. When I read his life, I couldn’t come to my senses for three days; my whole life turned upside down. It had already turned over before when faith was revealed to me, but after his life everything became completely different. I came to faith gradually, through great sorrow. The local Diveyevo priest, Father John, told me that this happens very often, through sorrow the Lord knocks on the hearts of people. My great grief was that Andryusha left me with little Seryozha. And I was very sad about this. Then I began for the first time in my life to pray that the Lord would return my husband to me, if possible. And, apparently, then God’s mercies towards me, a sinner, had already begun. Andryusha quickly left that woman, wandered around a little more, nothing was heard from him for three months, and then returned. He even asked me for forgiveness. And I forgave him.

Seryozha was already four years old. For several months we lived in love and peace. And then they began to expect a new child, but in the fifth month I had a miscarriage; no one could explain why, but Lyuba, my neighbor in the stairwell, told me what my sins were. Even before Seryozha, I had an abortion, we lived then in the same room with Andryusha’s grandmother, grandmother, God rest upon her, was after a stroke, her right side did not move, she was bedridden and screamed at night. Nobody needed a child in such conditions. I didn’t even have any doubts then, I didn’t know that they were alive there, in the mother’s womb, already with a soul, and I didn’t think at all, just a worm and a worm. But Lyuba told me that abortion is a terrible sin, and now I will have to pay for it all my life. And then I also learned that under no circumstances should you say “please” to “thank you” - you must answer: “For the glory of God.”

When the miscarriage happened, I froze, I already understood that my living child had died, and not a worm, and I didn’t want to live. Andryusha even took me to a psychiatrist, I took a course of antidepressants, and I felt a little better. But the main thing that brought me relief was my faith in the Lord, the Mother of God and all the saints.

While still in the hospital, I began to pray again for God to console me, I lay there alone, covered in blood, could not get up from terrible weakness, and no one, neither the nurse nor Andryusha, came to me, because Andryusha was already dying alone with Serezhey. Two of my neighbors were after surgery and did not get up. If my mother had been alive, she would have come to me, but she died after heart surgery before Serezha was born. And I lay alone. The Lord helped me get up and walk to the toilet, but on the way back in the corridor I had already fallen, two women called a nurse, and they brought me to the bed. I fell successfully, not a single scratch, only minor bruises. So everything was, thank God, even then Father Seraphim helped me.

When I returned home and took a course of pills prescribed by a psychiatrist, I felt much better. I could already smile. And on Lyubin’s advice I went to church. There I was overcome with such warmth and such repentance that for the first time in my life I confessed and accepted the Holy Mysteries of Christ.

Until now, I have only read “The Life of St. Seraphim” and a little of the Gospel. I bought several more books at church - “How to Prepare for Confession”, “What a Mother Needs to Know”, “About Prayer” and “Lives of Russian Saints”.

When I read the life of Ksenia of Petersburg, I realized that I was living incorrectly, according to the laws of the flesh and the world. And I realized that I was ready to give up my entire previous life, just to resemble Saint and Blessed Xenia at least with my little finger. As soon as I understood this, I felt that Ksenia would now be my patron and assistant. Although my name is Olga, not Ksenia at all. We lived then in Kazakhstan, in Astana, but I told Andryusha that I definitely had to go to St. Petersburg. Andryusha said that he would no longer sit with Serezha, but I simply forgot to tell him that, of course, I was going with Serezha. Seryozha was very happy that we were going to another city, but I explained to him that this was not a simple trip, but a pilgrimage to a holy place, the grave of the Holy Blessed Ksenyushka of Petersburg. On the train, I told Seryozha how Ksenyushka helped people and how she lived, and Seryozha listened very carefully. We had a wonderful trip, although not without temptations. On the way, my wallet was stolen, we got into a conversation on the train with one woman who seemed very pleasant, she talked a lot about herself, treated us to her products and even fruit juice. And when we woke up the next morning, the woman was no longer there, she had left earlier, and something pushed me, I immediately reached to check my wallet in my bag, but it was not there. We got to the Smolensk cemetery without a penny of money.

At the cemetery in the chapel, I went up to the priest and told my misfortune. He advised me to stand at the entrance to the chapel and beg because the chapel does not have any extra funds. But I didn’t count on these funds, and stood at the entrance, and Seryozha was very shy, and even cried, and called me so that I would not ask people for money. But I really wanted to spend the night in St. Petersburg, and then just go home, so I needed both food and a ticket. People gave me little by little, and I constantly prayed to Blessed Ksenyushka. Then a woman who was selling candles and books in the chapel came up to me and said that the priest had blessed us to have lunch in the refectory. Seryozha and I ate very tasty, everything was blessed, illuminated by the blessed one, Seryozha ate with pleasure. Over the course of the whole day, we collected quite a bit of money; it was enough for about half a ticket. And I thought that tomorrow we would collect the rest, because it was already getting dark, and we needed somewhere else to spend the night. That kind woman who sold candles, her name was Maria, advised me to return to the station and spend the night there for the glory of God. That's what we did. We settled down quite well, on a long bench, after prayers Seryozha almost immediately fell asleep, I also passed out sometimes. It was then that a great miracle happened to me. I had a dream. Some kind of large church, with black domes, and around there are nuns in black robes going to the service, and they are in such a hurry, the bells are ringing and from below you can even see the black figure of the sister-ringer in the upper span of the bell tower. I also went with the sisters, entered the church, spacious and bright, and immediately saw Blessed Xenia on the icon, the blessed one looked at me as if alive. Here my dream ended. I woke up and realized that the blessed one was blessing me to go to this church with black domes. But I didn’t know where she was.

In the morning I woke up Seryozha, we read the morning rule together and went to the chapel again. Maria, God save her, treated us even better than before, immediately took us to eat, asked us for a long time, and then brought us the missing amount for tickets. I didn't know how to thank her. This was the second miracle for the prayers of Saint Xenia. I told Maria about my wonderful dream, and she replied that it was probably some kind of nunnery.

Seryozha and I returned home safely, only our dad, while we were gone, committed a terrible crime against the Church and God. My entire red corner, with icons, with a bottle of oil from the relics of the healer Panteleimon, with a jar of holy water, was ruined. All the icons have disappeared somewhere. What did you do, Andrey? - That’s all I could ask him. The husband replied that he would no longer tolerate anything like that in his house, there was no point in fooling him and the child, and it was in vain that he let us go. It was like a bucket of ice water on a hot day.

A few days later, Andryusha left and began to ask for forgiveness, but it was clear to me that if he did not accept baptism and believe in the Savior, we would not have God’s blessing to continue living. I told him that I would forgive him if he was baptized. Andryusha shouted that he would never do this, called me swear words, once even raised his hand to me, it’s good that Seryozha was on the street.

The apartment in which we lived was completely mine, inherited from my aunt, she died in 1998 from a massive heart attack, was lonely and bequeathed the apartment to me. I had to tell Andryusha that he would have to leave.

It took us six months to quarrel and divorce. Andryusha still didn’t want to get a divorce, and seeing my firmness (either - divorce, or - go get baptized), he shouted at me, and sometimes he used his hands again. There were many difficult temptations, many sorrows, I even had to see a doctor again, because I began to have very severe mental conditions and an arrhythmia was diagnosed. But even in this external and internal battle, the Lord strengthened me with unheard-of joy; one woman brought me a thick book, “The Chronicle of the Seraphim-Diveyevo Monastery,” to read. Every evening, after putting Seryozha to bed, I read this wonderful book. Towards the end, between the pages there was a calendar with a view of a church, which seemed somewhat familiar to me. When I looked more closely, I realized that this was the same church that I saw at the station in my dream! On the back of the calendar it was written: “Trinity Cathedral of the Seraphim-Diveevsky Monastery. Modern look.” I cried and prayed all night. God! By that time, Andryusha and I were divorced, I was finally free, Blessed Ksenia herself blessed me to go to the Reverend.

But the blessing of the blessed one is special. I understood that I had to leave the world just like her. Father John from Diveevo told me that this is all my pride, but I don’t think that I can be like Blessed Ksenia, I just wanted to imitate her in at least some way. And the priest from Astana, Father Valery, told me that there was no great sin in this. I even think, although this is probably impudent, that the Lord Himself placed in my heart an understanding of how I should leave my city. I advertised in the newspaper that I was selling an apartment and set a very low price for it. Within a day I completed the paperwork! Thank God, a buyer was found very quickly. I gave part of the money I received for the apartment to Andryusha, hoping to fulfill God’s commandment of love and reconcile with him before leaving, but Andryusha did not even want to talk to me, and I acted through his mother. And Serezha and I distributed the rest of the amount to our churches and simply to the poor. To do this, we toured all the churches in our city and left only for a ticket to Diveevo. Seryozha was very happy. He himself took these unnecessary pieces of paper from me and gave them to poor people. How they thanked us, how they bowed! Some even cried. I also couldn’t stop myself from crying. My old life was ending before my eyes. And such joy enveloped my soul, such weightlessness, when I closed my eyes, it seemed to me that I was about to fly away. Glory to You, God! Glory to you, blessed Ksenia! Glory to you, Venerable Seraphim!

I still had furniture and things in the apartment, a lot of my old clothes. I called everyone I knew and within a week I gave away everything I had. Many were surprised and did not want to take it, they tried to persuade me, but I convinced them as best I could, explaining that I would no longer need anything from the past. Only Seryozha was sorry to say goodbye to some of his toys, but this was a temptation from the enemy, after all, we won’t take anything with us to heaven! Seryozha still kept the soldiers and the toy jeep for himself, and I, on the advice of my spiritual father, Father Valery, did not interfere with this, I only told him that he would carry everything himself, in his backpack. In my own backpack I put the Bible, the Chronicle, a prayer book, two towels, two T-shirts and panties for Seryozha and a change of underwear for myself. The backpack turned out to be very light. And we went to the fourth portion of the Mother of God, to where, as the Venerable One said, both Jerusalem and Athos were.

We arrived in Arzamas early in the morning, on May 16, it turned out that we still had to go to Diveyevo by bus, but we no longer had a penny of money left, everything was spent on tickets and food. We bowed to all the shrines in Arzamas, went to every church, we found three of them in total. I prayed to all the saints, to the Mother of God, and Seryozha also prayed at my request. Since Andryusha and I separated, he has matured a lot. But it was time to go to Diveevo. It got dark somehow quickly, but we didn’t find any accommodation for the night in Arzamas. We asked several people on the street and in the church, but no one had a place.

We left Arzamas, ate bread, and then it became completely dark, we came across some long wooden fence, found a hillock and a tree, and so we spent the night on the hillock. Seryozha collected branches, we lit a small fire and warmed ourselves, I prayed all the time to St. Seraphim and Blessed Xenia, who endured much greater labor and cold. And the next morning the Lord vouchsafed us to witness a miracle - our entire tree, it was a poplar, blossomed overnight and turned out to be covered in small green leaves. The only one in the entire area, the rest of the poplars around were still bare. Seryozha said that it was our fire that warmed the poplar, but the fire, of course, had nothing to do with it. This was a clear blessing from God on our path. God bless! The Mother of God stood up for us and saved us. After a cold night and sleeping on the street, we didn't even get sick. And all according to the prayers of the blessed one and the Reverend. Early in the morning we were already approaching Diveevo. When I saw the same church with the black domes from the dream, I cried so much that Seryozha even got scared. The service had already begun in the church, we defended the liturgy, venerated the relics of the Reverend, and listened to the akathist. One sister came up to us and asked: “Are you pilgrims?” “No, mother, we are not pilgrims, we are forever.” I again could not stop myself from crying. The sister advised us to approach the abbess and ask for a blessing to live in Diveyevo.

Mother received us very graciously, we approached her after the service, and, having learned that we were from Kazakhstan and we no longer had a home, she blessed us to settle for the time being in a small village house belonging to the monastery. When we moved there, it was still not at all tidied up, not lived in, people had not lived in this house for many years. The glass in two windows was broken, and I'm not even talking about the dirt. Many who came to us said that even living in the open air is better. Because we still had a bad smell. But these were all temptations, isn’t it a miracle that on the very first day we, homeless wanderers, received a real home as a gift! In addition, over time, all the bad smells disappeared, it was just rotten rags and vegetables lying in the pantry, I took everything out, cleaned it, it became much better. At first we warmed ourselves from an electric battery, but in winter it was still cold, and in the coldest days we were allowed to spend the night in the temple; there was heating there. But all these problems and temptations are behind us; now, by the grace of God, we have a stove, glass windows, and even water.

Another elderly woman lives with us, the mother of one of the sisters of the monastery, Svetlana - she was driven out of her home by her drunkard husband. Svetlana looks after Seryozha when I am in obedience. My mother died, but blessed Ksenia sent him, as it were, a new grandmother. I work on obedience every day, and Seryozha often helps me, but he still gets tired quickly. Two weeks ago he turned eight years old. Of course, I’m not sending him to school, at first the mother nuns tried to persuade me, and I even went to talk to the director of the local Diveyevo school, but when I entered the building, I saw that there were televisions in the classrooms. My son doesn't need this. His soul is still intact and pure for the prayers of the Mother of God, he doesn’t read worldly books, he knows all the prayers by heart, but what can you see on TV except debauchery and demons? The main thing, Serezhenka, is a repentant heart, and the rest will follow, you’ll see. He also plays with the kids even without school; there are many of them here, both locals and those who come to the Reverend to pray. My mothers loved Seryozha very much, they recently bought him new boots and a jacket, and they scold me that I don’t take care of my son, but how can I take care, because there is no money for obedience, but if they offer me, I don’t take it, so as not to lose heavenly reward. So we live according to the great mercy of the Lord, to the glory of God, for the prayers of Blessed Xenia and St. Seraphim.

And Seryozha will grow up a little, God willing, he will enter some monastery, maybe they will restore it in Sarov, he will become a hieromonk, well, and I will stay here, with Father Seraphim, until the last times, maybe I will be accepted in time number of sisters and, if it comes to tonsure, I will ask to be tonsured in honor of Blessed Xenia of Petersburg. But, of course, it’s too early to talk about this; my Diveyevo spiritual father, Father John, says that while Seryozha is small, there is no point in even dreaming about monasticism. And yet, sinner, I dream. But thank God already that we live here, on such holy land, next to the relics of the great saint. It’s not scary in Diveyevo, the Antichrist will reign everywhere, but he won’t be able to jump over the Diveyevo ditch, along which the Mother of God walked with her holy feet. This is what Father Seraphim himself prophesied.

Reverend Father Seraphim! Pray to God for us.

funny miracle

A passionate stake stood in my throat. The black wind blew out my eyes. And I close them so as not to go blind and not see, because it is no longer possible to see. Close your eyes and freeze. I can’t stand these blindingly sunny, transitional, windy days, it’s mid-April, and there’s still snow, ice and this blinding, sick sun...

For a whole year, despair crushed me, drove me into a black bag without windows. And what kind of windows are in the bag? It was difficult to breathe. Every time I was amazed again and again, why, if there is despair in my soul, in my heart, is it difficult for me to breathe with my body and lungs? But there is only one sigh that will ease my suffering - a puff. I will take a puff of this bitterness, this smoke with a strange aftertaste of either death or grass - and I will get better, I will recover, I will understand why I live. It was as if someone persistently and friendly offered this elementary way out: a sip of bitterness - and no bags!

I was driving the car and mentally smoking all the time, without stopping, one after another, opening the window slightly, letting the smoke out into the street. I drew the smoky curtains and it became easier to see. If someone smoked nearby, on the street or in a room between floors, I didn’t sniff at all, didn’t inhale greedily - it was their smoke, tasteless, disgusting, alien.

But I was still sick of this, as they like to say in church, temptation, terribly sick of it, and I asked you in confession, remember? Can I smoke one, just one cigarette? Just to end the obsession? It may be a loss, but it will finally end! You said with a smile: “I forbid it by the authority of God.” And I, as always, as if playing the same role that had long been stuck in my teeth: “I’ll still break it.” And you restrainedly: “Try it.” And I thought again: damn, how little a person spends words, but how powerful it comes out. How little it already hurts me, in general very little in life hurts me, but this, thank you God, the words of this man still hurt me at least a little. And I was happy. I never tried it. But Dimka left. It always affects me in the same way: what freedom immediately, Lord, how it suddenly stops putting pressure on my shoulders for some reason (the cross of marriage, or what?), but right there, along with freedom, melancholy grew. Unbearable. So at least it was possible to talk to Dimka, just so that he would listen, but in general it’s already empty. Because children are not filling, but in a different way. And again this desire arose, now sharper, now softer, only I was too lazy to go and buy cigarettes. A kind of lethargy overcame me when it really came down to it. I didn’t know which ones were better, which ones tasted better.

That morning I left the house to fix my car. For once, I put it in a shell, because its doors were broken and the tape recorder was broken, and with the doors open, you can’t just put it in the yard. I had to ask the intelligent-looking janitor Sasha for 50 rubles, he knocked the ice off the doors for me, and I drove in and locked it, but apparently, in the evening, at night, someone was standing next to my garage and smoking. He and she. His pack was empty and flew away, and she left the pack half-smoked, very half-smoked, because when I kicked it with my foot so that there wouldn’t be any trash lying around near my shell, thin, long white cigarettes fanned out from the pack. It was fate.

When I last smoked, such beautiful and white ones did not exist in nature. We smoked Bulgarian BT and considered it great happiness. Once I tried Marlboro and thought - why is everyone praising them so much? I was 16 years old. I can hardly remember that time, it seems nothing good. And then I didn’t smoke so much, and most importantly, I smoked terribly, even when alone, still showing off, look how I suffer. Then it ended because the church did not encourage smoking. It was easy for me to quit, I never got used to it. But this is probably like the ordeal of Blessed Theodora, which, they say, we will all go through after death - any sin leaves a mark on the soul, and you must account for any. Since I once smoked, it means that this has not faded away, and now I need to really overcome it. But that’s the point, on this sunny April day it suddenly became surprising to me: why on earth would I overcome this? What is this, a sin? It's not a sin. The apostles do not say a word about smoking anywhere. You never know. Compared to suicide, for example, is smoking a sin or not a sin? And then now I’ll finally try, that’s all, and I’ll calm down. I picked up the scattered cigarettes from the snow, two of them, but one had already gotten a little wet, and I kept the other, dry one. I sniffed it, it smelled great of a good cigarette. She held it a little with her lips.

I drove the car out, closed the shell, and drove down the hill into the alley. Here she is, my white, thin girlfriend, lying and meekly waiting for me. I pressed the cigarette lighter. The cigarette lighter did not pop back out. She took it out and looked: instead of a fiery spiral, there was a quiet grayness. Does not work! Yes, I’m on my way to repair, now I’ll tell the guys, that’s all. But I spent so long telling the craftsmen about the doors that somehow they didn’t get around to the cigarette lighter. I just forgot about him. And when I returned to get the car, it was already uncomfortable. Although, maybe it’s one second to fix the cigarette lighter in the car. And the cigarette was still lying between the seats, under the handbrake. Are there any matches in the city? Or maybe they stopped selling gas lighters? But I had to go home quickly, let my mother go, who was looking after the children, and it was stupid to somehow stop for matches, then maybe I’ll bring them from home tomorrow. I even thought about smoking at home, but there are children there, no buzz - no, you need to be in the car.

Slamming the door, I took another look at my last hope under the handbrake and went home, cheerful. A manic stage was clearly setting in. The evening went well. I only screamed twice, which in principle is very little, only once did I throw a child’s saucepan on the floor, and the handle immediately flew off. That is, they can’t do anything humanly at all - made in China, they say! But Petya got overexcited, Lisa slept without moving, and Petya screamed and called me all the time. He called me through a dream, but every time I didn’t know, maybe it wasn’t through a dream, and I ran to him, and he moaned. Magnetic storms again, perhaps? And after four runs, at three in the morning, I thought that if I didn’t fall asleep immediately and Petya didn’t stop screaming, I’d die. And I began to pray: “Lord, I promise you never, ever to smoke, I promise tomorrow, as soon as I open the car, to throw away this cigarette, just let me sleep. Put Petya to sleep so he doesn’t cry out, and I’ll get some sleep too. And I apologize." Petya immediately fell silent, I don’t know if that’s why or not, but the next time we met only in the morning.

After breakfast, the three of us got ready for a walk, got dressed and went downstairs. It took a short drive to Neskuchny. I opened the car, started it up, the car moved through the yard, and a dove flew up right from under the wheel. And then I remembered: throw it away! Quicker! But there was no cigarette. Nowhere. Here, here she lay yesterday under the handbrake! White stripe on black. Emptiness. I stopped right in the middle of the yard, looked under the seats, shook the rug... Petya, Lisa, did you take such a long white tube with brown crumbs inside? They didn't take it. Is it true? Is it true. Yes, I know that they didn’t take it, we didn’t have time, we just set off. Where did she go then? Lord, didn’t you believe me and took this cigarette from here yourself? But I honestly would throw it away, and if it’s a miracle, then thank you. The miracle turned out funny. Father! That's all.

Father Misail

1. Father Misail met Anna Akhmatova, was a wonderful storyteller, talker and wrote down various stories about the priests - documentary, very funny. Then these stories came out as books, and then reprints began to come out. Readers sent Father Misail grateful responses, television invited him to reflect on the fate of the church, newspapers interviewed him. And everyone was happy.

But one day Father Misail had a strange dream. It’s as if he’s sitting at the table, leafing through his book about priests, and in the book, instead of texts, there are photographs of everyone he wrote about, and all his heroes - in what his mother gave birth to. "What it is?" - Father Misail screamed in horror and slammed the book. But even from the cover one of his familiar priests shook his finger at him, again completely naked, saying menacingly: “Do not expose your father’s nakedness.”

2. Soon after this story, Father Misail learned that he had a colleague. From the laity, and even a woman! Some Kucherskaya, who, as they said, also really loved writing about priests. Father Misail even read several stories from her pen in Literaturnaya Gazeta and after that he was not lazy, found out her phone number and called the aspiring writer.

“I heard that you, Mrs. Kucherskaya, write libels about the priests,” said Father Misail after a short and generally affectionate introduction. - And I even read them. Sometimes it's funny, but more often it's sad.

Kucherskaya was silent in awe. Akhmatova’s acquaintance himself calls her and teaches her a lesson!

In general, writing about shepherds is a dangerous and thankless task,” Father Misail continued, “I know this well from my own experience.” So it would be better if you, mother, started having children. I don’t have such an opportunity, otherwise, by God, I would quit writing and start babysitting children... But you, don’t forget: childbearing is much more saving than writing.

Kucherskaya marveled at such attention to herself and pastoral care, and out of surprise she began to give birth to children - one, then another. But on the second, things stalled. And there’s nothing you can do about it: either the children or the priests, so she again began to write her tall tales about the shepherds.

“I can’t live without them,” he says. - That's all".

And now the children are in kindergarten, and she writes all day long, rereads her stories out loud, hits herself on the sides, laughs, jumps up, and at times cries bitterly.

From the author. There is an old German proverb that describes the main facets of a woman’s existence. Kinder, küche, kirche. My passions are perfectly exhausted by this triad. Three Ks and three Ls. I love my two little kinders - the most wonderful and funny children in the world. I love our kitchen - the most comfortable place in the house, friends flock here, our dad reigns here, who cooks us pizzas, brews mysterious tea mixtures, and our soul sings. And I also like to go to church, in Russian - to church. And I’m only interested in writing about her, which makes it a little awkward (well, how can you be so limited!); Besides, it’s terribly hard, you’re constantly moving along the edge. And you stumble - inevitably. But I really want to say something very simple: the modern church lives and breathes, it has its own amazing, varied, rich life. With illnesses, disasters, tragedies, but also with joys, insights, love. And all sorts of funny stories too, which are impossible to retell without a smile, and sometimes even grotesqueness.

So I run around my triangle. And I’m also 33 years old. And I live in Moscow, working either as a literary critic or as a teacher. I was published in the magazines “Postscriptum” and “Volga”, which published my stories, and then my first big story “The Story of One Acquaintance” (1998, No. 10) - with rare friendliness and hospitality.

The entire “Modern Patericon” is published by the Vremya publishing house.

Father Nikolai

1. Father Nikolai lived on the island. People went to him by train to Pskov, then to the village, from there about three kilometers on foot, and then sailed on motor boats and a speedboat. And in winter they walked on ice or rode in special cars that were not slippery when driving on ice. The setting red sun was reflected in the ice.

People thought: “Now we will see the great old man, and he will explain everything to us.” And Father Nikolai told them: “Why did you come? I won’t tell you anything anyway.” He was old. Only his hands were strong, he hit them on the forehead of all the stupid and disobedient ones. And he sang songs, clear and loud, like a young man. After all, his father was the director of a church choir, and the priest loved church singing from childhood.

2. In early autumn, when everyone was leaving, silence fell over the island. The cows lay on the sand and looked at the gray water. Black boats rocked on the water, seagulls screamed, many large stones lay along the shore, and the largest stone was called Litvinov; why it was called that, no one knew for sure, but everyone thought, because once there were Lithuanians here on the island.

3. Once several students came to visit Father Nikolai. Pasha Andreev wanted to ask him whether he should marry or not. But the conversation was general, it was inappropriate to talk about marriage, the students asked the priest for a long time about various spiritual things, the priest answered them, and so everyone began to say goodbye. Then Father Nikolai leaned towards Pasha and quietly said: “Get married, get married.”

4. Once during the winter student holidays, three girls, three students of the Faculty of Philology, came to visit Father Nikolai.

Glory to Thee, Lord, they did not drown! - Father Nikolai said and crossed himself, the girls were walking on ice with large cracks and were terribly afraid. The red dog ran after them and whined quietly, and then fell behind because it was completely scared.

The priest led the girls into the church and ordered them to make three bows to the Queen of Heaven in front of the icon. Then he found out that all three were studying to be philologists, and he was delighted. “So remember that particles same, whether, would are written without a line!” And then he told one who she would be, named her two main activities in life. But he didn’t tell the other two. Although they also had something to say - one of them became a nun, and the other a priest’s wife. But Father Nikolai told only the third, everything was correct, everything came true later, every word of his, but why she alone does not know. Probably because she was the most restless. Her last name was Kucherskaya.

Right choice

One priest had a gift from God. Only the right aisle is still being repaired, the roof has been repaired for the second year, they are covering it with a curtain instead of an altar barrier, and already its silver domes are shining with golden stars, in the iconostasis there are icons of the sixteenth century, and one aisle has even been dug up and consecrated, under the temple, an underground aisle, for special occasions. Someone is just winning a house for a clergyman from the mayor's office, and he already has four such houses - one for a clergyman, another for a Sunday school, a third for orphan boys, and a fourth is a shelter for lonely old women. In each house - antique furniture, Voltaire armchairs, marble floors, crystal chandeliers - looking at the man-made beauty, people remember the beauty of God's creation, and then, you see, the Creator himself.

I sorted out the houses, bought three stores, all also Orthodox, one sells vestments, another sells church books, the third sells soy products, for the occasion of large and small fasts. I sorted out the shops and bought a stable. So that parishioners ride horses on holidays, don’t lose heart in vain, and don’t complain about each other. Well, where there is a stable, there is an area with attractions - they built their own miniature Disneyland, with Russian saints instead of Mickey and Donald.

I figured it out with the saints - I began to build an Orthodox swimming pool so that there would be somewhere to plunge after the grueling Lenten services or, conversely, horse races and carousel rides. They built a swimming pool and placed a sauna next to it. We installed a sauna - we need an Orthodox gym. We've built a gym, we need exercise equipment. We bought exercise equipment and need an Orthodox hotel. With a conference room. Because guests from abroad flocked to gain Orthodox pastoral experience from the priest. An Orthodox hotel was built, and an Orthodox airfield was needed. They built an airfield, launched dozens of charter flights to twenty-six countries of the world, and the priest, of course, has his own small Orthodox airplane, but also a helicopter, of course, too, to survey the property, and again, to take guests for rides.

True, some guests were very seasick; for them - what you wouldn’t do for the sake of your neighbor - they dug a canal to the Moscow River, organized pilgrimage cruises and an Orthodox fleet. But it was still slow going by water - where to go, they began to lay an Orthodox railway. But the road must also be protected from robbers and random people - they organized their own Orthodox army, with banners, a choir, everything that was required. Then the priest sees that it’s time to become an Orthodox president, he thought and thought, but gave up. If I’m also president, I won’t have time to serve, but I’m still a priest, according to the order of Melchizedek. He never became president, he remained a priest.

Visitation of God

One priest was very poor. The third priest in a church near Moscow, what kind of income is there? The abbot, if anything leaked, took it all for himself, and after the service demanded bribes from the priests. So the children of the third priest were dressed in cast-offs, mother huddled in an autumn jacket in winter, and the priest walked in the cold on foot for services, in a threadbare coat, with a suitcase peeling from time to time. One word, poverty.

Here God’s visit happened to the priest. An old friend from his school days, Yasha Sokolov, came to see him. Bless my house, he says, and I won’t be in debt. The rector was not in the city that day, and he did not learn anything about this matter. They got into some nice car and drove off. Suddenly they see a palace. With turrets, balconies, weather vanes, everything is as it should be. “This is my home,” says Yasha. They entered the palace, and everything there was made of pure gold. Chandeliers, tables, chairs. Only the handles are inlaid with emeralds and pearls. The priest was surprised, but well, he began to consecrate the palace. After the consecration, Yasha clapped his hands - a table with an unprecedented treat, foreign wines, printed gingerbreads came out of the wall, he clapped a second time - people came in, broad-shouldered guys, smart girls. “These are my friends,” Yasha explained and invited everyone to the table. The priest didn’t even know the name of many dishes, and he couldn’t try many of them - it didn’t fit.

Father sees that Yasha seems to have relaxed, pours it for him and himself, of course, does not forget, father asks him: “Where do you work, Yasha?” Yasha will laugh. And I couldn’t stop for a long time. He says we’re not supposed to work, it’s a waste, well, do you really understand who we are? “No, I don’t understand something,” the priest just won’t understand. Yasha and tell him: “We are bandits, okay?” “It’s clear,” the priest was frightened. “But don’t worry, we won’t touch you, you’re my sidekick and you’ll still be good for us.” Here Yasha and the priest generously paid, nodded to the invisible servants, and they took the priest home.

And from that incident the priest went from hand to hand: whom he would marry from Yasha’s friends, whom he would baptize, whom he would consecrate the castle again, and whom he would give unction after being wounded at the showdown. In a word, the priest went uphill from that day. He built a new house, dressed up his mother, sent the children to a private school, and they also need a good education, well, and bought himself a brand new Skoda (only white, to make it look more modest, the rector drove a Zhiguli). Soon, however, the rector was removed, our former third priest became the rector, but God knows, he didn’t look for it, somehow it just happened that way. What about the bandits? So what? Aren't they people? And cutting them off from the grace of God is a sin; there, you see, they will repent like the righteous thief on the cross. So see you soon in the abodes of heaven!

Only the priest could not do anything at all. He did not know how to repair the temple, and his temple remained in the forests for five years. I didn’t know how to intelligently engage in bookselling, knock out points, launch a book business.

He didn’t know how to win a clergyman’s house or even premises for a Sunday school. He did not have the necessary connections, generous sponsors, tens and hundreds of devoted children, he did not have a car, a cell phone, a computer, an e-mail, or even a pager. He did not have the gift of reasoning, the gift of miracles, the gift of insight, the gift of beautiful worship - he served in a quiet voice, so that if you stood far away, nothing could be heard. And what he didn’t have at all was the gift of speech; he mumbled and repeated the same thing over and over again. His mother could not be heard or seen, although he still had her, but they also did not have children. This is how the priest lived his life, and then died. His funeral service was held on a gloomy November day, and when people, according to custom, wanted to light candles, everyone’s candles lit themselves, and the temple was filled with an unearthly light.

One priest was a cannibal. A man comes to him for confession, but never returns home. A young couple comes to get married and disappears forever. They bring a baby to be baptized - both the baby and the godparents disappear. But the priest simply ate them all. Only during Lent everything was fine, people confessed to him, were baptized, and gathered together without any disappearances. The dean, of course, knew about this priest’s peculiarity, but he always said that there was no one to replace his priest, but how strictly the man kept his fast.

Tree of knowledge

Tanya and Grisha got married on Krasnaya Gorka and decided to go on a pilgrimage instead of a honeymoon. Without registration, without extra clothes and food, take only a little water, bread and go from monastery to monastery. Wherever they let you spend the night, say thank you. Where they feed you, God save you!

We set off early in the morning, the day after the wedding, rode for three hours by train, and then got out and walked. Grisha had all churches marked on the map with one cross, and monasteries with two. If everything went well, by evening they should have reached the first point - the Ascension Monastery. And so they walked along the road, sang prayers, read Jesus, then rested a little, had a light snack, and went again. And by the evening we were very tired. Especially Tanya, who was terribly hungry, because two buns with spring water are still not enough for the whole day. Tanya told Grisha: “Look, there’s a raspberry hanging over the fence, let’s pick it?” Grisha, who was also hungry but endured, finally answered her: “It’s immediately obvious that she’s a woman!” If you lived in paradise, you would act exactly the same as Eve.”

How is that? - Tanya clarified.

I would pick the fruit from the tree of knowledge and eat it.

I? No way. So Adam blamed everything on the woman, but he himself!

Grisha just laughed.

If the Lord had forbidden me, I would not have listened to any Eve.

Dusk fell on the earth. Tanya and Grisha were just approaching the new village. “Nikishkino!” - Tanya read loudly. And Grisha looked at the map - and realized that they would not be able to make it to the monastery, which they hoped to arrive in the evening. At least before dark. And they decided to take a risk - to ask someone for the night, right here, in this Nikishkin.

In two places they were turned away, and from the third house a grandfather in a green flannel shirt looked out and said: “Come in.” Tanya and Grisha were delighted! Moreover, the grandfather nodded towards the table, which was full of food, and told them to have dinner. But he himself began to get ready to go somewhere.

Aren't you going to have dinner with us? - asked polite Grisha and Tanya.

“I’ll go lock up the chickens,” the grandfather answered quite friendly. - You can eat here alone for now. Porridge, potatoes, the old woman prepared everything and went to see her daughter today, to Kutomkino, she won’t return. Warm up the tea. Just don’t touch this aluminum pan on the windowsill.

Tanya spotted a small paper icon in the chest of drawers, the couple read a prayer before eating, then had a hearty dinner, and everything seemed so tasty and fresh to them. But the old man still doesn’t come back. They put the kettle on, Tanya said: “I wish we had some pies.” With jam! When my grandmother baked pies, she always put them in exactly the same aluminum pan.” And Grisha answers her: “My grandmother usually left pancakes in such a pan, but she also wrapped the pan in a blanket so that it would not get cold.” Tanya argued: “Well, what pancakes!” There are pies here. People are not rich, they don’t have a vase, so they have to put it in a pan.” And Grisha told her: “I’m telling you, pancakes!” And Tanya: “Pies with jam.” Then Grisha got completely angry and said: “Well, let’s check.” They opened the saucepan, and from there came a mouse. Yurk! And she ran under the table. Then the old man comes in. And the cat is with him - rubbing between the owner’s legs, meowing, clearly asking the animal to eat. The old man walked up to the windowsill, opened the pan, and just spread his hands.

Eh, you! It was a cat's dinner.

Father Pavel

1. What was he like?

Father Pavel was a sweetheart. He often shouted “oh, infection!” and other obscene words. Sang folk songs. He told funny stories about himself. His education was “low, one year,” as it was written on his “personal arrest card.” And he was already 85 years old. His eyes could not see anything, torture with electric light in 1941 had an effect. And the priest’s legs could hardly walk, he was led by the arms, cell attendant Marya Petrovna on the right, volunteers on the left. “At this age, you can spin on your back and on your side!” - said the father. Some looked at him and cried, but he didn’t let them, he started joking.

2. Stop “Father Paul”

After returning from the camp, Father Pavel became a priest. He was no longer a young man. And he served in the rural Trinity Church for thirty-three years. People came to him from everywhere, of all ranks and professions. Everyone called the stop at which you had to get off to get into the village: “Father Pavel.” Father often repeated: “The people are not the servant of the priest, but the priest is the servant of the people.” But now it’s the other way around!”

3. Set lunch

One day Father Pavel, already old and half-blind, found himself in a big city. He served there together with one metropolitan. The Metropolitan gave Father Paul money for the return journey, and they parted. There was time left before the train, and Father Pavel decided to have lunch.

He walks into a cafe, and the girl behind the counter tells him:

And you, grandfather, better leave, you are poorly dressed.

And looks at his feet. And Father Pavel had felt boots on his feet; when he left his village, it was frosty, but when he arrived in the city, a thaw set in, and puddles of mud flowed from the felt boots onto the floor. The priest’s coat is also old, worn, and the suitcase in his hand is worn out, with priestly vestments inside. The girl apparently decided that it was some kind of tramp. Father Pavel left.

He comes to another cafe, more like a canteen, and they tell him: “We have set lunches here!” “Well,” Father Pavel answers, “that’s good.” He put his suitcase at the foot of the table, took the tray, and received a set lunch for it - first, second and compote. I put lunch on my table and just got ready to eat - I forgot my spoon and fork! He went to get a spoon and fork, came back, and a man was sitting at his table, eating his first meal. Here's a set lunch for you. Father Pavel sat down opposite and, without saying a word, began to eat his second meal. He ate the second dish, put the bread in his pockets, and divided the compote equally with the man.

Then the man gets up and goes to the exit. Father Pavel casually looked under the table - but there was no suitcase! That greedy guy stole it. I ate half of his lunch, and even took away his suitcase. Father Pavel got up from the table, ran after the thief, and suddenly looked at his suitcase. Just at another table. And the lunch on it is untouched. Confused!!! And there was no trace of the men. Here Father Pavel even got a headache - what a humble man he turned out to be, he didn’t say a word when Father Pavel ate half of his lunch!

Father Konstantin was a big entertainer. Everyone loved him for this. And they went to him for advice. So Pasha Egorov decided to ask the priest what he should do. Four years ago Pasha got married, married for great love, to Vika Kondratyeva, from the information department. Vika was not exactly a beauty, but very slender, she held her head high and walked beautifully, with long legs in high-heeled shoes - in general, Pasha could not live without her. And even when he got married, he didn’t stop loving her, but only loved her even more deeply. Vika, on the contrary, at first seemed to be okay with Pasha, she would cook dinner and even hug her, but then she began to get bored. And I was in no hurry to return home. Either he’ll stay somewhere with a friend, or he’ll go to the store after work, they’re like now, they’re all around the clock, after work it’s time. And Pasha sits at home and almost cries, even looks out the window. His Vichka was honest, and there was no one to be jealous of, but it was still a shame. The husband sits at home, but the wife doesn’t even show her nose! They started having scandals. And Vichka hugs him and says, “I’m bored, dear, at home.” At work there are papers, and at home the kitchen and you. Boring. And Pasha told her - am I a clown to entertain you? Well, they'll quarrel again. And Pasha decided to turn to the priest, to whom he went four times a year, through fasting, to confession, because our Pasha was a believer. Unlike, by the way, from his wife.

The priest asked Pasha everything, but while he was asking, he yawned twice, because Pasha had told various details in such detail that the priest answered him: “I see. She thinks you're boring. But we will do it this way.” And he told Pasha what to do.

And here again Vichka lingers somewhere for a long time, returns home, rings the doorbell, but no one opens it for her. It rings once and a third time - silence. She opens the door with her key - and Pashka’s boots and jacket are there in the corridor. So he's home! Vichka was a little wary. He takes off his shoes, goes into the room, and in the room you can’t breathe from the fumes, Pasha, drunk and smoking, is fast asleep on the floor and cigarette butts and empty bottles are lying on the carpet around him. But I must say that before this Pasha had never put anything intoxicating in his mouth and tried smoking only once, in the sixth grade, but since then he stopped. Vichka began to push Pasha with her feet, but Pasha only mumbled, and then suddenly opened his eyes. Yes, how he screams in a terrible, hoarse voice:

Darling! You've come!

And again he fell head on the floor and began to snore.

But Vichka pushed him away and began to demand an explanation.

My love! “I got drunk out of grief,” Pasha explained to her in slurred language, grinning stupidly all the time. - Because you are still not there. And I can't live without you.

Then Pasha picked up a cigarette butt from the floor and began looking for matches.

Why did you scatter cigarette butts all over the floor? So it’s not far from the fire! - Vika tried to attack him, but it was too late - Pasha dropped his cigarette butt and fell asleep again.

Then Vika somehow undressed Pasha, dragged him onto the sofa, covered him with a blanket, collected the cigarette butts, swept away the ashes, took out the bottles (one from Zhigulevsky, two from Nevsky and Stolichnaya), and closed the door to the room. And she sat down in the kitchen to watch TV - they were just showing “A Woman’s View” by Oksana Pushkina, Vika’s favorite show.

The next morning, Pasha apologized terribly to Vika, kissed her hands, begged her to forgive and kept repeating that it was he out of grief. Vika forgave him and told all the girls in her information department how much her husband loved her. But a few days later, Olya Motina called her to a sale, the Kopeika store was going bankrupt or something else, and organized a sale of electrical appliances at incredible prices. Yesterday Motina already bought a mixer there, and today she also wants a juicer - yesterday she simply didn’t have enough money. And Vichka just needed a new iron. She returns home with a box - Pasha is drunk again. True, he is not lying on the floor, but in a chair, and cigarette butts are floating in a cup of water. But there are even more bottles than last time.

Since then, Vichka began to come home on time. And with Pasha she seemed interested - it turned out that he knew how to get drunk and smoke. Again, there is something to tell your girlfriends at work.

But this is not the miracle at all. The miracle is that none of the observant neighbors told Vika how her husband walked around the yard for two evenings in a row with tweezers and two plastic bags - he picked up cigarette butts with tweezers. And in another bag he put empty bottles.

Father Konstantin had never laughed so much in his life.

Superman

One priest was a superman. His grandmother calls him and says: “Father, the door closed, the key was left inside, I don’t know what to do.” Father arrives, kicks down the door, fixes the lock, and leaves. The next day, two sisters call, they got promoted, became businesswomen, but bandits came and threatened to burn everything. The priest immediately goes to the gangster meeting, chuckling, looking at the bulging pockets of his brothers, quickly explains everything to everyone, the brothers agree not to run into them anymore, the priest leaves. In the evening after the service, a crying mother approaches the priest - her son, a fourteen-year-old teenager, has disappeared, got involved with bad company, did not spend the night at home the second night. The priest calls the right people, negotiates with the police, serves an akathist, and in the evening the policeman brings the boy home by the hand.

The priest was also on short terms with the possessed. In the middle of the service, an abnormal woman enters the church, begins to scream something terribly, the priest comes out of the altar, lifts the woman by the elbows, carries her out of the church, returns to the altar, and continues to serve. One grandfather almost died of hunger at home, everyone forgot about him - the priest remembered, fed him, gave him communion, grandfather still lives. Another man’s wife fell ill with cancer, he went to church for the first time out of grief, and came across the priest. Father served a health prayer service for three days in a row. A week later, my wife’s cancer was gone. The doctors shouted, called her a malingerer, and she went home and laughed all over the street, not embarrassed by anyone. There is no end to these stories. The priest saved someone from despair, someone from death, helped someone sort out their relationship with their husband, someone with their wife, prayed for someone, and the very next morning he was given a warrant for a three-room apartment, for whom He prayed some more, and the girl found herself a groom. Another successfully passed a difficult exam, the third finally gave birth, the seventh simply understood what was good and what was bad, the forty-eighth decided not to throw himself from the eighth floor.

And he went everywhere, preached, helped, consoled. So twenty-three years passed. Suddenly something happened to the priest. He did everything the same, came, gave communion, but he could no longer console anyone, as if he had forgotten all the necessary words. That is, sometimes he even remembered and said the very words that he usually said in such cases, but it turned out dead. It’s an amazing thing, people practically didn’t notice this, apparently, everything was covered by the grace of the priesthood, and the priest was still wildly popular, crowds flocked to his church, confession lasted past midnight, in a word, outwardly everything remained the same, only his cell attendant Misha and his mother saw : Father is not the same anymore.

But the priest hardly spoke to them and answered all the questions of his loved ones briefly: “It’s just that I’m already dead.” Of course, they didn’t believe him: how did he die? Who is this talking to us now? And they didn’t believe it. However, the priest served less and less often, and then he almost stopped receiving people, not paying attention to anyone’s tearful requests, and spent all his free time in his room. There he sat and looked at one point. And when they turned to him, he said: “I’m not at home.” Or, as usual: “I died.” Nobody believed him anyway. The doctors came, fed the priest various pills, massaged him, encouraged him, and in general everyone understood: well, the man was tired. But the priest was not tired, he lay down and died.

Father Mitrofan

1. If a wife complained about her husband, or about her mother-in-law, or about a neighbor, Father Mitrofan gave her the same advice: “Kill him.”

How to kill? - the woman was amazed.

Smother with a pillow or add arsenic to your tea.

Sometimes he added: “Or you can send it to a meat processing plant and cut it into sausages.”

After that, they stopped complaining about his loved ones.

2. To those who were planning to have an abortion, Abba said: “Give birth, and then leave it in the stroller in the cold, as if by accident, it will squeak and freeze, and everything will be fine. This is a sin less than abortion.”

Why smaller? - the expectant mother was surprised.

Check it out - you'll see.

But no one ever checked.

Father Artemy

Father Artemy graduated from the Faculty of Philology of Moscow State University named after the great Russian scientist and educator Mikhail Vasilievich Lomonosov. As soon as the priest opened his mouth, the silky grasses lay on the ground, the fragrant flowers bowed their heads, the tall and strong trees dropped their fruits, the birds of the sky folded their wings and fell silent, not daring to continue their sweet, wonderful songs, the forest animals, shaggy and tailed, stopped their hasty run, sniffed and wiggled their ears in reverent bewilderment, the sea fish froze and only occasionally splashed their tails and blew a bubble. People recorded Father’s sermons on dictaphones and videotapes, and published his books in thousands of copies. Some were tempted and rubbed their temples.

“But it’s simple,” said one servant of God who loved Artemy’s father, “priest, from great stress and his great busyness, forgot all the Russian words and uses Old Russian ones, because in Old Church Slavonic and Old Russian he only got straight A’s at the university. And if you place a translator with the priest, everything will immediately become fine. The priest will say, “We must remember that we must shake off the ashes of godlessness, and especially pride and the most destructive conceit, from our feet.” This means that you need to stop sinning. See how simple it is! And there’s nothing to be tempted about.”

Beauty will save the world

One woman, Asya Morozova, was such a beauty that the world had never seen. The eyes are dark, looking into the very soul, the eyebrows are black, curved, as they were drawn, there’s nothing to even say about the eyelashes - half the face. Well, the hair is light brown, thick and lies in a soft wave. Asya was bored with studying, and at the age of 19 she quit studying. All the teachers gave her B’s simply for her unearthly beauty, only the computer science student (a single woman, 56 years old) was stubborn, and Asya did not want to retake it and took away the documents. She had so many fans that she turned off her phone a long time ago and pulled her cap over her eyes so that they wouldn’t see her. But the hat didn’t help either. She herself, of course, didn’t like anyone. They were all kind of assholes. And she didn’t want to take money from them, why on earth. But she still wanted to live like a human being. Her parents were in another city, both were already middle-aged, plus two sisters, in general, she had to rely on herself. Well, how can a decent girl earn money? And Asya became a prostitute. She worked, of course, not on some Tverskaya, but in a small private boarding house. And I received crazy amounts of money. Asya herself set fees for clients, and there was no case when anyone refused her. The boarding house served wealthy, trusted people, only by appointment; drug use and excessive libations were not encouraged; in general, the girls lived there like in Christ’s bosom.

So it would go on until one day a very strange man came to this cozy brothel.

It was raining outside, October was ending, all the girls were yawning and bored, twelve o'clock in the afternoon, dead time. Again, rain. But then the doorbell rang. A stranger stood on the threshold, water was dripping from his umbrella, the guest looked unhappy and wet, but even through the water it was clear: he was not at all like the local visitors. He looked to be about forty years old, he was very pale, his beard grew to his waist, and water was dripping from the tip of it.

Asya laughed. Never in her life had she seen such funny bearded men.

Are you a professor?

But the bearded man only silently looked at Asya and did not say a word. The owner of the house winked at Asya, whispered something in the bearded man’s ear, he nodded, and Asya led the client to the second floor.

In the room, the man thoroughly patted his beard with a towel, and then opened the large black bag that he had brought with him. From the bag he took out a long black robe, put a golden cross on top, then took out a long narrow apron made of golden fabric, hung it around his neck, and then the same solid golden cuffs with laces. And he tied his shoelaces. Asya looked at him silently. The man turned out to be a priest. The priest drew a cross on all four walls with a pencil.

Then he asked for a basin of water, the shower and toilet were right in the room, and Asya immediately brought him water. After that, the priest opened a thick cherry book and began to sing prayers and then splash water. Asya sat in a chair and listened to prayers - in addition to “Lord, have mercy,” she made out another strange repeated word that sounded like a cough - “Zacchaeus.” Finally, generally quite quickly, the priest stopped reading, put the book and the broom with which he was splashing water back into his bag, took off his cassock and cross and bowed at Asya’s feet. Asya jumped away. Of course, many knelt before her, but in a different way. And the man got up easily and was about to leave.

What does all of this mean? - Asya shouted.

Interesting? - this was the first thing that the bearded man finally said on his own, not from the book. At the same time, he smiled and looked at Asya, also somehow different from everyone else. And his gaze struck Asya so much that she couldn’t even respond properly. Because this look was very affectionate and did not want anything. And Asya was silent.

Come to us at the Petrovsky Monastery, on Kaluga Val, ask Father Luka, I will explain everything to you,” the man added.

I will also come to you! - Asya finally came to her senses and shrugged.

Then Father Luke left. Asya asked him not to take a penny from him. The abbess listened to her, Asya was in a special position at the boarding house - the main source of income.

After that day, Asya was replaced - she always wanted to see the bearded priest. It’s too wonderful,” he looked. She could barely wait for the day off; she was usually given Tuesday or Wednesday, the least profitable ones. And so Asya dressed more modestly, caught a taxi and ordered to be taken to Kaluga Val. The taxi brought her to the white wall of the monastery. At this point Asya got a little scared, but when she saw that everyone who wanted to was coming through the open gate, she boldly headed forward. There was a monk standing at the gate, like a guard, Asya asked Father Luka, and soon the same bearded man, in a long cassock, a small black cap, without a cross, was already approaching Asya. Father Luke Ase was not at all surprised and led her to a large golden-domed church that stood in the middle of the monastery. In the church, the priest sat down with her on a bench and spoke to her as if he were an old friend.

It’s good that you found me,” said the priest.

And I myself don’t know why I came here,” Asya sighed. - Yes, only after you visited us, I became very bored. And my old life is not sweet to me. Because actually there is nothing good about it! And I want something else.

What?

So that you can get me out of there.

Doesn't it depend on you alone?

No, because the income that I bring to that house is very large, no one will let me go while I’m young, and they will find me even underground.

They talked like this for a long time, discussing plans for Asya’s salvation and issues of Christian virtue. When they started talking about the sin of voluptuousness, Father Luka told Asya his own story.

You see, I've lost God. I will not tell you in detail how this happened, because it happened gradually, step by step, but in the end I almost did not believe in His existence, and therefore in the justice of everything that the church tells us. The soul cannot remain empty for long, it thirsts for food, any kind, and if not divine, then earthly, carnal... I came to you for what everyone comes there for, the demon of fornication cruelly tormented me long before I began to lose faith. At first I fought as best I could, but the further I moved away from God, the more defenseless I became in front of my thoughts and lustful passion. I found the phone number of your house in the newspaper, the advertisement said that this was a place for “well-intentioned” people, this made me laugh and I really liked it. And I, like a “well-meaning monk,” phoned your hostess and found out the way.

I told the abbot that I had been called to the next service, to consecrate the apartment, this is customary here - many of the brethren often go to the city for services. To divert attention and reassure myself, I took with me my usual luggage, a bag with vestments and everything necessary. And went straight into the arms of the devil.

I wandered around the neighborhood for a long time and could not find your house despite the instructions. It was pouring rain, I was soaked to the skin and was ready to run. It was as if the Lord himself held me to the last. But having already decided to return with nothing, I finally came across the right place. Several times I walked past this two-story mansion, sure that it was someone’s beautiful office or bank, until I looked at the windows - white curtains with colored butterflies. I realized that most likely I was right where I needed to be. I called, said the agreed upon phrase, they opened the door for me, and then... I saw you. I was blinded. Can a person be so beautiful? If there is such beauty on earth, then there is the Lord. All doubt about the existence of God and His infinite mercy, His love for us, warming and all-merciful, completely left me. I felt that the Lord was close. For many months I suffered from disbelief, despondency, melancholy, for many months I dreamed of a woman, forgive me for speaking to you so frankly, and now - in an instant! All doubts and all desires left me. I was in a kind of shocked delight.

“I remember, I remember how you looked at me,” Asya laughed.

Since you’ve already come, do your job, I told myself,” Father Luke continued. “And he began to consecrate the room. And then he returned to the monastery. That's my whole story.

Why didn't you talk to me there, right away? - asked Asya.

I was afraid of losing the joy that I had so suddenly received. And what could I say? What is ten times worse than you, what is a hypocrite, a sensualist and an apostate?

Why didn’t you stay with me there for what everyone comes there for? Then your joy would become even stronger.

When God is near, none of this is needed anymore, and all lust completely leaves a person, he becomes inaccessible to sin.

What do you think of our work? Is it a big sin?

Truly this is more disgusting to God than any sin.

They talked like that for several hours. Asya did not return to the brothel. On the same day, Father Luke baptized her and dressed her in an inconspicuous cassock, which greatly changed her appearance. For three months, Asya lived in a closet at the monastery, together with the women who prepared food for the monks, confessed, talked with Father Luke, repented and cleansed her soul, and ended up going to a distant convent. By Christmas, Father Luka received a touching postcard, and by Easter a telegram: During Great Lent, Asya was found in the forest near the monastery with a broken head. The killers were not found, but Father Luka, having received the sad news, could not recover from shock for several days. He even went to the police, told about the house he visited once, but when he went to show where it was located, he never found it. The cozy mansion has definitely disappeared.

This story has been told in other ways. Having turned Asya to the path of truth and love, Father Luka could not resist her beauty and proposed to her. Soon they got married. Father Luka took off his rank and took off his hair. Their children turned out to be very beautiful, but still not like their mother. The brethren of the monastery at first thought that Father Luke had died without return, his relatives and children wept for him, until the Elder of the monastery said one day at a meal, as if by the way: “Don’t mourn for Borenka (Luke’s worldly name), he will remain alive.”

Mandelstam Street

Deacon Gregory, a graduate of the Literary Institute, loved Pushkin with passion. Well, I just loved it. At the sermons that he was sometimes tasked with delivering, no, no, and he would also include a poem or a quote from his favorite poet, about Onegin and Masha Mironova, he spoke as if about living people, and at night, after all the rules and bows, he would take a volume and reads it a little and always cries with emotion - he wrote very well, son of a bitch. The brethren nicknamed Gregory Pushkin.

But one day Father Deacon had a dream - a huge field, yellow and empty, apparently, only the rye had been harvested, sparse spikelets lay on the border, and along this prickly field Alexander Sergeevich himself was walking towards him, curly-haired, agile, all so familiar and recognizable, and the wind blows the curls from your forehead. But at the same time, Pushkin is terribly sad. The deacon sat down like that.

Alexander Sergeevich, is that you?

Well, I,” answered Pushkin.

Why, why are you so sad? - Father Gregory almost cried.

But Alexander Sergeevich remained silent to this and looked at him with even greater sadness.

Oh, Alexander Sergeevich, if only you knew what glory you have on earth! - the priest shouted.

What is glory to me?! - Pushkin answered quietly and lowered his head even lower.

But if not you, if not you, then who? - the amazed Father Gregory continued to exclaim.

Then Pushkin suddenly straightened up, a vague smile ran across his lips, and with only his eyes he pointed somewhere upward, behind the deacon’s back - they say, you better look there. Father Gregory turned around, raised his head and saw a birch tree. Osip Emilievich Mandelstam was sitting on a birch tree. And Mandelstam, on the contrary, seemed very cheerful, laughed, waved his arms as if he were a bird, and seemed to chirp something, but not like a human being.

Then the father woke up.

He has since abandoned Pushkin, reads only Mandelstam and memorizes his entire collected works.

Good man

1. One priest was an unbeliever. He did everything as expected and tried very hard, but somehow he didn’t believe in God. In general, everyone knew about this, but they forgave him, but like before, if you are a communist, you don’t necessarily believe in communism. Well, so does Father. The main thing is that the person is good.

2. One priest suffered from kleptomania. Either he’ll steal a gold cross from the church, or he’ll just steal a ten from the deacon’s pocket. Everyone generally knew about this, but they understood - well, a kleptomaniac. The main thing is that the person is good. Father valued people's trust and, when the pile of stolen things in his house became too high, he put everything stolen in a large bag and distributed it to the poor on the porch. This is what a good person means.

3. One priest didn’t like gay people. But he didn’t like even more when they said about some monks, or even those higher up, that they were all that in their monastery. Here this priest darkened his face, looked at his interlocutor point-blank and said very clearly: “There are no blue priests!” He got up, left the room, twitched the corner of his mouth, and drank Valocordin. But why bother spoiling your nerves? The main thing is that the person is good.

Princess Frog

Once upon a time there lived an abbess Raisa. She was once a kind, good woman, but now she has become an abbess, and it’s as if she has been replaced. She didn’t love anyone anymore, she didn’t make friends with anyone. Life was bad for the sisters under her, sorrowful and painful. But not everyone. Mother had close associates, the dean and the treasurer, somehow they knew how to please mother, although they put up with a lot from her. The worst of all were those who were neglected, those who were once guilty of something, did not please the abbess, spoke crossly or bowed at the wrong time - Mother Raisa hated them with fierce hatred and drove them away from the world as best she could. She ordered them not to give them parcels and letters, didn’t let them go to the city to see doctors, set the sisters against them, forced them to do men’s work, carry logs, chop wood, didn’t allow them to go to services until everything was done, and they didn’t go to church for months . And to every murmur she answered with one thing: “Obedience is higher than fasting and prayer. Are you nuns or what?”

Some of these outcasts changed monasteries, some went home and, out of embitterment of heart, stopped going to church altogether, others fell ill from overwork and remained disabled for life, and still others were forgiven by mother. But it was very difficult to earn forgiveness. So the monastic life went on, unknown to anyone, outwardly quiet and calm, until the novice Anna fell into the lower classes. Now it seems that the hour of God’s will has come.

Anna was originally from St. Petersburg, worked as a physics teacher, and at the age of thirty-two she came to the monastery. She lived here for the third year, worked in various obediences, most recently in a sewing workshop, she was known for her evenness and cheerfulness of character, in general she had good data, a good profile, it was time to place her somewhere, maybe get a haircut and a promotion , or maybe lower it and not cut it. And Mother Superior summoned Anna to her place.

She’s been in the monastery for so many years, and she’s still a novice. Because you don’t have the right leadership,” the abbess explained to Anna. “I want to take on you myself, and as your mother I want to listen to what your thoughts are, what burdens your soul, what you have sinned.” I'm listening.

Anna was silent.

“I’m listening,” the abbess repeated sternly.

Mother, thank you for your care and maternal help, but last night I already went to confession, and told Father Andrey all my thoughts, all my sins, but I haven’t accumulated any new thoughts yet...

O stupid and unreasonable, O naive and senseless child! How did you respond to your boss? Is this how you should have spoken to your main caretaker about the stupidity of your soul, who has replaced your very own mother? You yourself led yourself to destruction, with your false innocence (the mask of pride) and the ingenuousness of your answer, yourself!

Haven't accumulated? Haven't accumulated? Haven't accumulated? - the abbess screamed in terrible anger and stamped her feet.

Do you want to learn how to sew vestments? - Mother continued to shout, recalling their old conversation with Anna. - You will learn from me. Tomorrow you will go to the cowshed.

And she screamed for a long time, citing quotes from the holy fathers, calling Anna a “pig”, “creature”, a criminal and other abusive words. But Anna didn't even cry. Creature.

The next day she went to the barn. And at least that's it. The cows fell in love with Anna; as soon as she entered the barn, they began to moo in unison, as if welcoming her, and the calves rushed to lick her hands and boots. Anna just laughed. Several months passed like this. The difficult work did not seem to exhaust her, but only amused her.

Then Anna was moved to a damp cell, where the ceiling was dripping and the plaster was peeling off. Mother Anna first put up a basin, and then got some plaster from somewhere and patched the ceiling. Then mother Joasafa was secretly instructed to let cockroaches into Anna’s cell, in families, one by one, but Anna called the cockroaches children, fed them with bread, and Joasafa herself once spied how in the evening, shortly before bedtime, the cockroaches, at Anna’s command, set off in an even formation on the windowsill through the open window, on the tree growing near the cell - to spend the night. Mother Superior, in response to this story, breaking a vase, shouted: “Women's fables! It’s November outside, zero degrees!”

And she sent Anna to a construction site as a laborer. Anna, nothing again. She carries cement in a bucket, her face is cheerful, as if she is in a rest home, and not at hard work. And at least she had a runny nose! No runny nose. Here the abbess persuaded her sister, a former physician who served as a monastery doctor, to examine Anna more closely and find her weak points. It turned out that in her youth Anna had problems with her heart. Then the abbess sent her to the laundry, into the steam, the heat, no one could stand it there for a long time. The sisters worked in the laundry on a strict schedule, no more than a month a year. Anna worked for six months and again it was as if nothing had happened! And this began to torment Raisa’s mother terribly, because she couldn’t bring Anna to the same state as everyone else. The rest of the lowered ones still walked around pale, exhausted, at the sight of mother they began to tremble and immediately fell to their knees, either in the mud or in the snow. Only with such prostrations could one earn her forgiveness - everyone knew that. And the best informers came out of those who were forgiven.

Anna did not fall to her knees, she bowed to her mother to the ground, at her feet, like everyone else, and still... smiled slightly! The abbess ordered to check whether the novice was mentally damaged, but the most reliable agents reported to mother that Anna spoke to them quite sensibly. And when asked what was the reason for her cheerful appearance, she answered that, of course, it was hard for her, but her conscience was calm...

And then the abbess decided to kill her completely. She called Anna to her and said:

Here's a task for you, Anna. The workers just can’t finish finishing the prosphora, apparently the demon is taking them away from this holy work, not allowing them to complete the work, and there is only a few hours of work left. I see that you are struggling and will defeat the evil one - complete the prosphora. I give you until tomorrow morning. Can you handle it?

Bless! - answered Anna, without objecting a word to her mother, although she could have objected: they had just begun to build the prosphora and there was at least two months of construction left there!

“God bless,” answered the mother and crossed the novice. - If you don’t build it...

She didn’t finish, but it had been rumored for a long time in the monastery that two nuns, especially not pleasing to mother, had disappeared somewhere. The nuns' relatives made a fuss, even the police came, but they found no traces. Mother told her relatives: “Russia is big,” and the police simply stayed in her office for a short time and left. And since then they have never visited the monastery.

And then the night passes, in the morning mother goes out into the street: Lord Jesus! The prosphora is worth it. And Anna sweeps the construction debris out of it with a broom!

The abbess was even more angry than ever with Anna.

Here’s one more task for you, my dear, and after that I’ll petition the Bishop for your tonsure. It is necessary to dig a new deep well; the water in the old one has begun to rot. Everything must be ready by the next morning; the sisters should not drink rotten water, you understand!

Bless.

God bless.

The abbess wakes up the next morning, and the cell attendant brings her a ladle of clean, clear water.

Mother! The well is ready.

How mother gets out of bed, how she splashes a ladle in the face of the cell attendant, how she screams in a terrible voice:

Witchcraft! The girl is being helped.

The abbess called her two most devoted sisters, the dean and the treasurer, and ordered them the next night to track down Anna and find out who was helping the damned girl.

And he gives the novice a new task - to plant an apple orchard in the field near the monastery, so that the apples will already be ripe by morning, and she, the abbess, will try them for breakfast.

Anna just bowed to her silently. Late in the evening Anna went to the field, followed by disguised sisters, one crawling with branches on her head, the second in a camouflage suit.

And then the sisters saw that Anna knelt down in the middle of the field and began to pray fervently.

O All-Holy and Almighty Almighty! Don’t leave me, give me time to repent, don’t let my soul perish... O beloved and sweetest Jesus, be merciful to me who is weak, send me Your holy help, help me plant an apple orchard...

And immediately after these words, the night sky was illuminated by an unearthly light, the heavens opened, winged young men flew onto the field, each holding a shovel in his right hand, and a small seedling in his left. The young men began to dig the ground and plant apple trees in it. And all this with some kind of angelic, inhuman speed. Less than half an hour had passed before the field was planted with thin seedlings. Then the sky darkened and it started to rain. A few minutes later, having lightly watered the ground, the rain subsided. And the apple trees grew and grew and soon turned into wonderful young trees. Black buds swelled on the branches, leaves came out of the buds, white buds appeared, and the garden began to bloom. Anna continued to pray and cry bitterly.

The flowers flew around, and apples began to ripen on the branches, turning from green dots into smooth green balls. Anna prayed. And the balls suddenly turned golden right before the eyes of the shocked spies.

It began to get light, and the winged young men suddenly disappeared, somehow disappeared into the air, the treasurer and the dean did not even have time to track this. There was only one left, the last young angel, and he went straight to the bush behind which they were hiding. Approaching the sisters, frozen in fear, the young man said in a thunderous voice:

Tell Abbess Raisa that she has greatly angered the All-Merciful Lord, and therefore she has only a few hours left to live, during which she can still repent. If she does not repent, unbearable and terrible torment awaits her soul! Before he dies, let him not forget to look into the cellar in the distant apiary.

With these words the young man disappeared.

Not remembering themselves, the sisters ran to the monastery. And they told everything to mother, but she didn’t believe them for a long time, screamed, hit her on the cheeks, asked how they knew about the apiary, but the treasurer and the dean repeated that they were only telling what they heard from the bright young man in the apple orchard.

But mother no longer wanted to listen to anything, and, exclaiming: “What should I repent of! I have nothing to repent of!”, suddenly her face turned black, fell and died.

That same evening, having learned about the death of the abbess, a watchman from a distant apiary ran to the monastery and fell at the feet of the sisters. The watchman led the sisters to a small cellar, which was located not far from the apiary, opened the doors of the cellar, and the same sisters who disappeared a year ago came out of the dungeon, singing and heavenly joy on their faces.

The treasurer and the dean quietly fled from the monastery, throwing away the keys and leaving the cellars open. For several days the sisters rejoiced, having arranged great consolation for themselves at meals. And then they got together and elected Anna as their boss. She ruled the monastery happily ever after.

Ballerina

You see, father,” one novice said to the priest, “somehow I’m bored in the monastery.” But I studied ballet from the age of four, almost became a ballerina, but when I went to the monastery, I threw away all my pointe shoes, and my tutu, and the photographs of me dancing. Now sometimes I just want to dance.

The priest did not answer the novice, but a month later on Angel’s Day he gave her a gift - pink satin pointe shoes and a real tutu.

The novice was very happy, tried on the pointe shoes, and they fit her well.

“When you remember your distant past,” said the priest, “and you want to get into the third or sixth position, I bless you to put on pointe shoes, a tutu and dance as much as your soul desires.” At least in our conference room, there is no one there yet. And take the key from Eustathia.

But since then the novice no longer wanted to dance. She never asked for the key to the hall, she put her pointe shoes and pack in a distant chest and did not think about them for many months. However, a year passed, and in the evening of her former angel day (because she soon became a nun, and her name was changed), mother opened the lid, looked at the priest’s gifts, remembered his warmth and endless love and prayed for the repose of Hieromonk Andrian - the priest had been gone for a long time alive.

Devotional Stories for Sunday School Reading

1. The story of the Orthodox hedgehog

One Orthodox hedgehog lived in his hole in the roots of an old oak tree. And the squirrel upstairs in the hollow was non-Orthodox.

Dear squirrel! - the hedgehog addressed her more than once. - You are not Orthodox. Come to your senses! You need to be baptized in our river.

“But I’m afraid of water,” answered the squirrel, noisily gnawing on a nut.

We must overcome fear.

But the squirrel could not comprehend the great benefit that her squirrel soul would receive after converting to the true faith.

Over time, the hedgehog baptized all the animals, bugs and spiders in the forest and taught everyone one simple prayer. “No matter what happens, no matter what happens,” the hedgehog explained, “you just need to repeat: “Glory to God!” Even the squirrel learned this easy prayer. The hedgehog taught her to cross herself with her paw and ordered her to cling tightly to a branch with her tail and bow to the east. The squirrel agreed to bow, she generally loved physical exercise, but she still refused to plunge into the river, even for the sake of baptism.

However, here God sent the hedgehog an assistant in his missionary work. A ladybug flew to the hedgehog's hole, hiding in the roots of a tree with a squirrel's hollow. Ladybug had a polka dot scarf tied around her head, and in her hands she held a rosary made of the same black polka dots, and she looked very humble. The hedgehog told the cow about his fruitless attempts to persuade the squirrel to be baptized.

Since then,” said Ladybug, “when I found out that I was not a simple bug, but a ladybug, and even a ladybug, I have been constantly praying to God. Believe me, little squirrel, there is nothing sweeter than life in Christ and praying the rosary.

But the squirrel didn’t want to listen to anything, she still jumped, cracked nuts and giggled.

I think I have an idea! - the usually sedate and serious hedgehog suddenly jumped up and down.

A few days later he made a wonderful rosary. The hedgehog strung nuts onto a long thread and showed the rosary to the squirrel.

“They will be yours as soon as you overcome your fear,” said the hedgehog.

The squirrel immediately found itself at the very roots of the old oak tree. All three - the hedgehog, the squirrel and the ladybug - went to the river that flowed not far from the strawberry meadow. The squirrel trembled all the way and wanted to return, but the hedgehog showed her a nut rosary, and the squirrel walked forward.

Finally they reached their river. Ladybug volunteered to be the godmother, and the hedgehog volunteered to be the godfather. They immersed the squirrel in water, read the necessary prayers, but when they finished reading them, they saw that the squirrel was no longer breathing. She choked!

Nothing! - The hedgehog waved his paw. - God bless!

Yes,” agreed Ladybug. - After all, she died Orthodox. God bless!

God bless! - all the leaves, flowers, birds, bugs, animals and little black boogers picked up around.

1) Do you approve of the behavior of the hedgehog and Ladybug?

2) What would you do if you were a hedgehog? In place of the squirrels?

3) Act out the story in person.

2. True repentance

Vitya Ivanov was a bad Christian. He didn’t listen to teachers, didn’t learn his lessons, offended girls, got into fights during recess. He brought chewing gum, a slingshot, or a straw to school and shot everyone with chewed pieces of paper, and on New Year’s Eve he brought firecrackers and blew them up right under the principal’s window. In general, Vitya was a hooligan. Despite the fact that he studied at an Orthodox gymnasium.

Many times teachers tried to reason with him, repeating to him that bad behavior does not lead to good, but stubborn Vitya did not want to listen to them!

And what? Soon Vitya’s mother fell ill with cancer, then her sister went blind, then her grandmother was paralyzed and the house burned down, and Vitya himself broke his leg while jumping down the stairs. Only in the hospital, lying in a cast, with his leg suspended from the ceiling, did Vitya realize how wrong he was. “Forgive me, Lord!” - Vitya exclaimed, wetting his pillow with bitter tears. At that very second, his mother recovered, his sister regained her sight, his grandmother got out of bed and walked, friends gave Vita’s mother a new house (they had an extra one), and Vita’s leg immediately grew together. The doctors just threw up their hands.

This is what true repentance means, children!

Questions and tasks after the text.

1) Why did Vitina’s mother get cancer, why did her sister go blind, and why did her grandmother become paralyzed?

2) Was Vitya’s repentance true?

3) When was the last time you went to confession?

Normal person

Zhenya Snegireva could not get married. Three years have already passed since college, and still nothing. And Zhenya had only two entertainments - to go to a theater premiere, because since childhood she loved the theater, and to go to church, because in her first year Zhenya was baptized by everyone. In church, Zhenya prayed for only one thing, once even imposed a three-day fast on herself, but no one turned up. Only Vanya Sinitsyn, he worked as an agent in their travel company, but Vanya doesn’t count because Vanya Sinitsyn turned out to be an unbeliever. And Zhenya’s spiritual father did not bless Zhenya to marry Vanya. Vanya, however, did not offer, they only sometimes went to lunch together, but Zhenya still decided to stock up on blessings in order to react correctly at the right moment. I didn’t stock up: “Living with an unbeliever is torture!” - that’s what the father told her.

There was nothing to do, Zhenya went to the elder. In the Trinity-Sergius Lavra, pray, bow to St. Sergius, and, well, to the elder. The old man was old, gray-haired, sighed heavily all the time, looked at Zhenya carefully and said:

Baby, pray to the Reverend, he will help.

And Zhenya came out comforted. Immediately I went into the Trinity Church, venerated the relics and prayed.

Father Sergius! Beg for me an Orthodox groom!

I lit a candle, listened to the akathist, and - on the train, home. And on the train opposite her there’s a young man sitting, and he’s so handsome! With a mustache, in a black uniform jacket. And he occasionally glances at Zhenya. Zhenya became flushed and completely squirmed. And the young man suddenly says:

Are you coming from Lavra?

Zhenya just nodded silently.

And I study there.

Word by word, we got acquainted, it turned out that Alexey was studying at the seminary, going home for the weekend, he did not enter it immediately after school, he was still working and served in the army, so he was suitable for Zhenya’s age.

“This is what the prayer of St. Sergius means! This is what the intercession of a saint means! So what? And I’ll be a mother,” Zhenya thought to herself, dictating her phone number to Alyosha.

And Zhenya started dating Alyosha. As Zhenya asked in prayer, he turned out to be completely Orthodox. He loved to talk about the salvation of the soul, the shrines of the Russian land, the Masonic conspiracy, and took Zhenya to services. For the liturgy, all-night vigil, prayer services. But, by the way, he didn’t propose; apparently, he was looking closely, but for now, for training, he began to treat her as a future wife.

He told her how to dress - only a skirt and even a headscarf indoors! I scolded her when she ate chocolate during Lent. He got angry when she timidly objected to him and said that she didn’t believe in the conspiracy. And when Zhenya suggested that he go to the theater, he rolled his eyes and screamed: devilry! Naked girls! Perverts! This is what your theater is.

And Zhenya thought - the groom is a little crazy. And she went to the theater alone, and Alyosha, when he found out about this, told her: “You know, I decided that I would be a monk, because the monastic path is higher.” And he didn’t call again.

What can you do, Zhenya went again to the elder: “Father, I begged for an Orthodox groom, but he turned out to be different!”

But the old man only smiled and said nothing. Then Zhenya realized that he had nothing more to say, and again turned to St. Sergius for help.

Father Sergius! Send me a groom, I don’t need an Orthodox one anymore, just a good, normal person!

He rides back on the train, looks in all directions - but there are only old women, drunken men, and mothers with two children around. Nothing suitable. The next day Zhenya comes to work, well, and there they are all the same - and Vanya Sinitsyn, as always, looks at her, smiles, and then goes up to her desk.

It's been a while since we had lunch together?

At lunch, finishing his fruit drink, Vanya suddenly says to Zhenya:

Today is Fomenka's premiere, let's go for an extra ticket, maybe we'll get lucky?

Zhenya agreed. And they began to go to theaters and cinema, Vanya also turned out to be no stranger to art. He gave Zhenya flowers, occasionally took her to a cafe, held her hand, did not try to kiss her, which Zhenya also really liked, sometimes they went to church and listened to them sing. Zhenya told Vanya something about the church and Christianity, and Vanya listened, sometimes he asked, sometimes he was silent, but in general he agreed with everything. And one evening, walking Zhenya home, he said: “In short, I love you.”

Living with an unbeliever is torment! Yes, the fact of the matter is that soon Vanya was baptized, and on Krasnaya Gorka Zhenin the priest married them. They lived happily ever after.

Letter to Father

For the glory of God

We people are not from here, we ended up in Diveevo by the grace of God. And that’s all Father Seraphim. When I read his life, I couldn’t come to my senses for three days; my whole life turned upside down. It had already turned over before when faith was revealed to me, but after his life everything became completely different. I came to faith gradually, through great sorrow. The local Diveyevo priest, Father John, told me that this happens very often, through sorrow the Lord knocks on the hearts of people. My great grief was that Andryusha left me with little Seryozha. And I was very sad about this. Then I began for the first time in my life to pray that the Lord would return my husband to me, if possible. And, apparently, then God’s mercies towards me, a sinner, had already begun. Andryusha quickly left that woman, wandered around a little more, nothing was heard from him for three months, and then returned. He even asked me for forgiveness. And I forgave him.

Seryozha was already four years old. For several months we lived in love and peace. And then they began to expect a new child, but in the fifth month I had a miscarriage; no one could explain why, but Lyuba, my neighbor in the stairwell, told me what my sins were. Even before Seryozha, I had an abortion, we lived then in the same room with Andryusha’s grandmother, grandmother, God rest upon her, was after a stroke, her right side did not move, she was bedridden and screamed at night. Nobody needed a child in such conditions. I didn’t even have any doubts then, I didn’t know that they were alive there, in the mother’s womb, already with a soul, and I didn’t think at all, just a worm and a worm. But Lyuba told me that abortion is a terrible sin, and now I will have to pay for it all my life. And then I also learned that under no circumstances should you say “please” to “thank you” - you must answer: “For the glory of God.”

When the miscarriage happened, I froze, I already understood that my living child had died, and not a worm, and I didn’t want to live. Andryusha even took me to a psychiatrist, I took a course of antidepressants, and I felt a little better. But the main thing that brought me relief was my faith in the Lord, the Mother of God and all the saints.

While still in the hospital, I began to pray again for God to console me, I lay there alone, covered in blood, could not get up from terrible weakness, and no one, neither the nurse nor Andryusha, came to me, because Andryusha was already dying alone with Serezhey. Two of my neighbors were after surgery and did not get up. If my mother had been alive, she would have come to me, but she died after heart surgery before Serezha was born. And I lay alone. The Lord helped me get up and walk to the toilet, but on the way back in the corridor I had already fallen, two women called a nurse, and they brought me to the bed. I fell successfully, not a single scratch, only minor bruises. So everything was, thank God, even then Father Seraphim helped me.

When I returned home and took a course of pills prescribed by a psychiatrist, I felt much better. I could already smile. And on Lyubin’s advice I went to church. There I was overcome with such warmth and such repentance that for the first time in my life I confessed and accepted the Holy Mysteries of Christ.

Until now, I have only read “The Life of St. Seraphim” and a little of the Gospel. I bought several more books at church - “How to Prepare for Confession”, “What a Mother Needs to Know”, “About Prayer” and “Lives of Russian Saints”.

When I read the life of Ksenia of Petersburg, I realized that I was living incorrectly, according to the laws of the flesh and the world. And I realized that I was ready to give up my entire previous life, just to resemble Saint and Blessed Xenia at least with my little finger. As soon as I understood this, I felt that Ksenia would now be my patron and assistant. Although my name is Olga, not Ksenia at all. We lived then in Kazakhstan, in Astana, but I told Andryusha that I definitely had to go to St. Petersburg. Andryusha said that he would no longer sit with Serezha, but I simply forgot to tell him that, of course, I was going with Serezha. Seryozha was very happy that we were going to another city, but I explained to him that this was not a simple trip, but a pilgrimage to a holy place, the grave of the Holy Blessed Ksenyushka of Petersburg. On the train, I told Seryozha how Ksenyushka helped people and how she lived, and Seryozha listened very carefully. We had a wonderful trip, although not without temptations. On the way, my wallet was stolen, we got into a conversation on the train with one woman who seemed very pleasant, she talked a lot about herself, treated us to her products and even fruit juice. And when we woke up the next morning, the woman was no longer there, she had left earlier, and something pushed me, I immediately reached to check my wallet in my bag, but it was not there. We got to the Smolensk cemetery without a penny of money.

At the cemetery in the chapel, I went up to the priest and told my misfortune. He advised me to stand at the entrance to the chapel and beg because the chapel does not have any extra funds. But I didn’t count on these funds, and stood at the entrance, and Seryozha was very shy, and even cried, and called me so that I would not ask people for money. But I really wanted to spend the night in St. Petersburg, and then just go home, so I needed both food and a ticket. People gave me little by little, and I constantly prayed to Blessed Ksenyushka. Then a woman who was selling candles and books in the chapel came up to me and said that the priest had blessed us to have lunch in the refectory. Seryozha and I ate very tasty, everything was blessed, illuminated by the blessed one, Seryozha ate with pleasure. Over the course of the whole day, we collected quite a bit of money; it was enough for about half a ticket. And I thought that tomorrow we would collect the rest, because it was already getting dark, and we needed somewhere else to spend the night. That kind woman who sold candles, her name was Maria, advised me to return to the station and spend the night there for the glory of God. That's what we did. We settled down quite well, on a long bench, after prayers Seryozha almost immediately fell asleep, I also passed out sometimes. It was then that a great miracle happened to me. I had a dream. Some kind of large church, with black domes, and around there are nuns in black robes going to the service, and they are in such a hurry, the bells are ringing and from below you can even see the black figure of the sister-ringer in the upper span of the bell tower. I also went with the sisters, entered the church, spacious and bright, and immediately saw Blessed Xenia on the icon, the blessed one looked at me as if alive. Here my dream ended. I woke up and realized that the blessed one was blessing me to go to this church with black domes. But I didn’t know where she was.

In the morning I woke up Seryozha, we read the morning rule together and went to the chapel again. Maria, God save her, treated us even better than before, immediately took us to eat, asked us for a long time, and then brought us the missing amount for tickets. I didn't know how to thank her. This was the second miracle for the prayers of Saint Xenia. I told Maria about my wonderful dream, and she replied that it was probably some kind of nunnery.

Seryozha and I returned home safely, only our dad, while we were gone, committed a terrible crime against the Church and God. My entire red corner, with icons, with a bottle of oil from the relics of the healer Panteleimon, with a jar of holy water, was ruined. All the icons have disappeared somewhere. What did you do, Andrey? - That’s all I could ask him. The husband replied that he would no longer tolerate anything like that in his house, there was no point in fooling him and the child, and it was in vain that he let us go. It was like a bucket of ice water on a hot day.

A few days later, Andryusha left and began to ask for forgiveness, but it was clear to me that if he did not accept baptism and believe in the Savior, we would not have God’s blessing to continue living. I told him that I would forgive him if he was baptized. Andryusha shouted that he would never do this, called me swear words, once even raised his hand to me, it’s good that Seryozha was on the street.

The apartment in which we lived was completely mine, inherited from my aunt, she died in 1998 from a massive heart attack, was lonely and bequeathed the apartment to me. I had to tell Andryusha that he would have to leave.

It took us six months to quarrel and divorce. Andryusha still didn’t want to get a divorce, and seeing my firmness (either - divorce, or - go get baptized), he shouted at me, and sometimes he used his hands again. There were many difficult temptations, many sorrows, I even had to see a doctor again, because I began to have very severe mental conditions and an arrhythmia was diagnosed. But even in this external and internal battle, the Lord strengthened me with unheard-of joy; one woman brought me a thick book, “The Chronicle of the Seraphim-Diveyevo Monastery,” to read. Every evening, after putting Seryozha to bed, I read this wonderful book. Towards the end, between the pages there was a calendar with a view of a church, which seemed somewhat familiar to me. When I looked more closely, I realized that this was the same church that I saw at the station in my dream! On the back of the calendar it was written: “Trinity Cathedral of the Seraphim-Diveevsky Monastery. Modern look.” I cried and prayed all night. God! By that time, Andryusha and I were divorced, I was finally free, Blessed Ksenia herself blessed me to go to the Reverend.

But the blessing of the blessed one is special. I understood that I had to leave the world just like her. Father John from Diveevo told me that this is all my pride, but I don’t think that I can be like Blessed Ksenia, I just wanted to imitate her in at least some way. And the priest from Astana, Father Valery, told me that there was no great sin in this. I even think, although this is probably impudent, that the Lord Himself placed in my heart an understanding of how I should leave my city. I advertised in the newspaper that I was selling an apartment and set a very low price for it. Within a day I completed the paperwork! Thank God, a buyer was found very quickly. I gave part of the money I received for the apartment to Andryusha, hoping to fulfill God’s commandment of love and reconcile with him before leaving, but Andryusha did not even want to talk to me, and I acted through his mother. And Serezha and I distributed the rest of the amount to our churches and simply to the poor. To do this, we toured all the churches in our city and left only for a ticket to Diveevo. Seryozha was very happy. He himself took these unnecessary pieces of paper from me and gave them to poor people. How they thanked us, how they bowed! Some even cried. I also couldn’t stop myself from crying. My old life was ending before my eyes. And such joy enveloped my soul, such weightlessness, when I closed my eyes, it seemed to me that I was about to fly away. Glory to You, God! Glory to you, blessed Ksenia! Glory to you, Venerable Seraphim!

I still had furniture and things in the apartment, a lot of my old clothes. I called everyone I knew and within a week I gave away everything I had. Many were surprised and did not want to take it, they tried to persuade me, but I convinced them as best I could, explaining that I would no longer need anything from the past. Only Seryozha was sorry to say goodbye to some of his toys, but this was a temptation from the enemy, after all, we won’t take anything with us to heaven! Seryozha still kept the soldiers and the toy jeep for himself, and I, on the advice of my spiritual father, Father Valery, did not interfere with this, I only told him that he would carry everything himself, in his backpack. In my own backpack I put the Bible, the Chronicle, a prayer book, two towels, two T-shirts and panties for Seryozha and a change of underwear for myself. The backpack turned out to be very light. And we went to the fourth portion of the Mother of God, to where, as the Venerable One said, both Jerusalem and Athos were.

We arrived in Arzamas early in the morning, on May 16, it turned out that we still had to go to Diveyevo by bus, but we no longer had a penny of money left, everything was spent on tickets and food. We bowed to all the shrines in Arzamas, went to every church, we found three of them in total. I prayed to all the saints, to the Mother of God, and Seryozha also prayed at my request. Since Andryusha and I separated, he has matured a lot. But it was time to go to Diveevo. It got dark somehow quickly, but we didn’t find any accommodation for the night in Arzamas. We asked several people on the street and in the church, but no one had a place.

We left Arzamas, ate bread, and then it became completely dark, we came across some long wooden fence, found a hillock and a tree, and so we spent the night on the hillock. Seryozha collected branches, we lit a small fire and warmed ourselves, I prayed all the time to St. Seraphim and Blessed Xenia, who endured much greater labor and cold. And the next morning the Lord vouchsafed us to witness a miracle - our entire tree, it was a poplar, blossomed overnight and turned out to be covered in small green leaves. The only one in the entire area, the rest of the poplars around were still bare. Seryozha said that it was our fire that warmed the poplar, but the fire, of course, had nothing to do with it. This was a clear blessing from God on our path. God bless! The Mother of God stood up for us and saved us. After a cold night and sleeping on the street, we didn't even get sick. And all according to the prayers of the blessed one and the Reverend. Early in the morning we were already approaching Diveevo. When I saw the same church with the black domes from the dream, I cried so much that Seryozha even got scared. The service had already begun in the church, we defended the liturgy, venerated the relics of the Reverend, and listened to the akathist. One sister came up to us and asked: “Are you pilgrims?” “No, mother, we are not pilgrims, we are forever.” I again could not stop myself from crying. The sister advised us to approach the abbess and ask for a blessing to live in Diveyevo.

Mother received us very graciously, we approached her after the service, and, having learned that we were from Kazakhstan and we no longer had a home, she blessed us to settle for the time being in a small village house belonging to the monastery. When we moved there, it was still not at all tidied up, not lived in, people had not lived in this house for many years. The glass in two windows was broken, and I'm not even talking about the dirt. Many who came to us said that even living in the open air is better. Because we still had a bad smell. But these were all temptations, isn’t it a miracle that on the very first day we, homeless wanderers, received a real home as a gift! In addition, over time, all the bad smells disappeared, it was just rotten rags and vegetables lying in the pantry, I took everything out, cleaned it, it became much better. At first we warmed ourselves from an electric battery, but in winter it was still cold, and in the coldest days we were allowed to spend the night in the temple; there was heating there. But all these problems and temptations are behind us; now, by the grace of God, we have a stove, glass windows, and even water.

Another elderly woman lives with us, the mother of one of the sisters of the monastery, Svetlana - she was driven out of her home by her drunkard husband. Svetlana looks after Seryozha when I am in obedience. My mother died, but blessed Ksenia sent him, as it were, a new grandmother. I work on obedience every day, and Seryozha often helps me, but he still gets tired quickly. Two weeks ago he turned eight years old. Of course, I’m not sending him to school, at first the mother nuns tried to persuade me, and I even went to talk to the director of the local Diveyevo school, but when I entered the building, I saw that there were televisions in the classrooms. My son doesn't need this. His soul is still intact and pure for the prayers of the Mother of God, he doesn’t read worldly books, he knows all the prayers by heart, but what can you see on TV except debauchery and demons? The main thing, Serezhenka, is a repentant heart, and the rest will follow, you’ll see. He also plays with the kids even without school; there are many of them here, both locals and those who come to the Reverend to pray. My mothers loved Seryozha very much, they recently bought him new boots and a jacket, and they scold me that I don’t take care of my son, but how can I take care, because there is no money for obedience, but if they offer me, I don’t take it, so as not to lose heavenly reward. So we live according to the great mercy of the Lord, to the glory of God, for the prayers of Blessed Xenia and St. Seraphim.

And Seryozha will grow up a little, God willing, he will enter some monastery, maybe they will restore it in Sarov, he will become a hieromonk, well, and I will stay here, with Father Seraphim, until the last times, maybe I will be accepted in time number of sisters and, if it comes to tonsure, I will ask to be tonsured in honor of Blessed Xenia of Petersburg. But, of course, it’s too early to talk about this; my Diveyevo spiritual father, Father John, says that while Seryozha is small, there is no point in even dreaming about monasticism. And yet, sinner, I dream. But thank God already that we live here, on such holy land, next to the relics of the great saint. It’s not scary in Diveyevo, the Antichrist will reign everywhere, but he won’t be able to jump over the Diveyevo ditch, along which the Mother of God walked with her holy feet. This is what Father Seraphim himself prophesied.

Reverend Father Seraphim! Pray to God for us.

funny miracle

A passionate stake stood in my throat. The black wind blew out my eyes. And I close them so as not to go blind and not see, because it is no longer possible to see. Close your eyes and freeze. I can’t stand these blindingly sunny, transitional, windy days, it’s mid-April, and there’s still snow, ice and this blinding, sick sun...

For a whole year, despair crushed me, drove me into a black bag without windows. And what kind of windows are in the bag? It was difficult to breathe. Every time I was amazed again and again, why, if there is despair in my soul, in my heart, is it difficult for me to breathe with my body and lungs? But there is only one sigh that will ease my suffering - a puff. I will take a puff of this bitterness, this smoke with a strange aftertaste of either death or grass - and I will get better, I will recover, I will understand why I live. It was as if someone persistently and friendly offered this elementary way out: a sip of bitterness - and no bags!

I was driving the car and mentally smoking all the time, without stopping, one after another, opening the window slightly, letting the smoke out into the street. I drew the smoky curtains and it became easier to see. If someone smoked nearby, on the street or in a room between floors, I didn’t sniff at all, didn’t inhale greedily - it was their smoke, tasteless, disgusting, alien.

But I was still sick of this, as they like to say in church, temptation, terribly sick of it, and I asked you in confession, remember? Can I smoke one, just one cigarette? Just to end the obsession? It may be a loss, but it will finally end! You said with a smile: “I forbid it by the authority of God.” And I, as always, as if playing the same role that had long been stuck in my teeth: “I’ll still break it.” And you restrainedly: “Try it.” And I thought again: damn, how little a person spends words, but how powerful it comes out. How little it already hurts me, in general very little in life hurts me, but this, thank you God, the words of this man still hurt me at least a little. And I was happy. I never tried it. But Dimka left. It always affects me in the same way: what freedom immediately, Lord, how it suddenly stops putting pressure on my shoulders for some reason (the cross of marriage, or what?), but right there, along with freedom, melancholy grew. Unbearable. So at least it was possible to talk to Dimka, just so that he would listen, but in general it’s already empty. Because children are not filling, but in a different way. And again this desire arose, now sharper, now softer, only I was too lazy to go and buy cigarettes. A kind of lethargy overcame me when it really came down to it. I didn’t know which ones were better, which ones tasted better.

That morning I left the house to fix my car. For once, I put it in a shell, because its doors were broken and the tape recorder was broken, and with the doors open, you can’t just put it in the yard. I had to ask the intelligent-looking janitor Sasha for 50 rubles, he knocked the ice off the doors for me, and I drove in and locked it, but apparently, in the evening, at night, someone was standing next to my garage and smoking. He and she. His pack was empty and flew away, and she left the pack half-smoked, very half-smoked, because when I kicked it with my foot so that there wouldn’t be any trash lying around near my shell, thin, long white cigarettes fanned out from the pack. It was fate.

When I last smoked, such beautiful and white ones did not exist in nature. We smoked Bulgarian BT and considered it great happiness. Once I tried Marlboro and thought - why is everyone praising them so much? I was 16 years old. I can hardly remember that time, it seems nothing good. And then I didn’t smoke so much, and most importantly, I smoked terribly, even when alone, still showing off, look how I suffer. Then it ended because the church did not encourage smoking. It was easy for me to quit, I never got used to it. But this is probably like the ordeal of Blessed Theodora, which, they say, we will all go through after death - any sin leaves a mark on the soul, and you must account for any. Since I once smoked, it means that this has not faded away, and now I need to really overcome it. But that’s the point, on this sunny April day it suddenly became surprising to me: why on earth would I overcome this? What is this, a sin? It's not a sin. The apostles do not say a word about smoking anywhere. You never know. Compared to suicide, for example, is smoking a sin or not a sin? And then now I’ll finally try, that’s all, and I’ll calm down. I picked up the scattered cigarettes from the snow, two of them, but one had already gotten a little wet, and I kept the other, dry one. I sniffed it, it smelled great of a good cigarette. She held it a little with her lips.

I drove the car out, closed the shell, and drove down the hill into the alley. Here she is, my white, thin girlfriend, lying and meekly waiting for me. I pressed the cigarette lighter. The cigarette lighter did not pop back out. She took it out and looked: instead of a fiery spiral, there was a quiet grayness. Does not work! Yes, I’m on my way to repair, now I’ll tell the guys, that’s all. But I spent so long telling the craftsmen about the doors that somehow they didn’t get around to the cigarette lighter. I just forgot about him. And when I returned to get the car, it was already uncomfortable. Although, maybe it’s one second to fix the cigarette lighter in the car. And the cigarette was still lying between the seats, under the handbrake. Are there any matches in the city? Or maybe they stopped selling gas lighters? But I had to go home quickly, let my mother go, who was looking after the children, and it was stupid to somehow stop for matches, then maybe I’ll bring them from home tomorrow. I even thought about smoking at home, but there are children there, no buzz - no, you need to be in the car.

Slamming the door, I took another look at my last hope under the handbrake and went home, cheerful. A manic stage was clearly setting in. The evening went well. I only screamed twice, which in principle is very little, only once did I throw a child’s saucepan on the floor, and the handle immediately flew off. That is, they can’t do anything humanly at all - made in China, they say! But Petya got overexcited, Lisa slept without moving, and Petya screamed and called me all the time. He called me through a dream, but every time I didn’t know, maybe it wasn’t through a dream, and I ran to him, and he moaned. Magnetic storms again, perhaps? And after four runs, at three in the morning, I thought that if I didn’t fall asleep immediately and Petya didn’t stop screaming, I’d die. And I began to pray: “Lord, I promise you never, ever to smoke, I promise tomorrow, as soon as I open the car, to throw away this cigarette, just let me sleep. Put Petya to sleep so he doesn’t cry out, and I’ll get some sleep too. And I apologize." Petya immediately fell silent, I don’t know if that’s why or not, but the next time we met only in the morning.

After breakfast, the three of us got ready for a walk, got dressed and went downstairs. It took a short drive to Neskuchny. I opened the car, started it up, the car moved through the yard, and a dove flew up right from under the wheel. And then I remembered: throw it away! Quicker! But there was no cigarette. Nowhere. Here, here she lay yesterday under the handbrake! White stripe on black. Emptiness. I stopped right in the middle of the yard, looked under the seats, shook the rug... Petya, Lisa, did you take such a long white tube with brown crumbs inside? They didn't take it. Is it true? Is it true. Yes, I know that they didn’t take it, we didn’t have time, we just set off. Where did she go then? Lord, didn’t you believe me and took this cigarette from here yourself? But I honestly would throw it away, and if it’s a miracle, then thank you. The miracle turned out funny. Father! That's all.

Father Misail

1. Father Misail met Anna Akhmatova, was a wonderful storyteller, talker and wrote down various stories about the priests - documentary, very funny. Then these stories came out as books, and then reprints began to come out. Readers sent Father Misail grateful responses, television invited him to reflect on the fate of the church, newspapers interviewed him. And everyone was happy.

But one day Father Misail had a strange dream. It’s as if he’s sitting at the table, leafing through his book about priests, and in the book, instead of texts, there are photographs of everyone he wrote about, and all his heroes - in what his mother gave birth to. "What it is?" - Father Misail screamed in horror and slammed the book. But even from the cover one of his familiar priests shook his finger at him, again completely naked, saying menacingly: “Do not expose your father’s nakedness.”

2. Soon after this story, Father Misail learned that he had a colleague. From the laity, and even a woman! Some Kucherskaya, who, as they said, also really loved writing about priests. Father Misail even read several stories from her pen in Literaturnaya Gazeta and after that he was not lazy, found out her phone number and called the aspiring writer.

“I heard that you, Mrs. Kucherskaya, write libels about the priests,” said Father Misail after a short and generally affectionate introduction. - And I even read them. Sometimes it's funny, but more often it's sad.

Kucherskaya was silent in awe. Akhmatova’s acquaintance himself calls her and teaches her a lesson!

In general, writing about shepherds is a dangerous and thankless task,” Father Misail continued, “I know this well from my own experience.” So it would be better if you, mother, started having children. I don’t have such an opportunity, otherwise, by God, I would quit writing and start babysitting children... But you, don’t forget: childbearing is much more saving than writing.

Kucherskaya marveled at such attention to herself and pastoral care, and out of surprise she began to give birth to children - one, then another. But on the second, things stalled. And there’s nothing you can do about it: either the children or the priests, so she again began to write her tall tales about the shepherds.

“I can’t live without them,” he says. - That's all".

And now the children are in kindergarten, and she writes all day long, rereads her stories out loud, hits herself on the sides, laughs, jumps up, and at times cries bitterly.