Maya Kucherskaya

Modern patericon. Reading for the Depressed

For several years now, stories about fathers, matushkas, laity and bishops have been coming to me from various parts of Russia, with modest additions - maybe it will be useful to you, just please don’t name them. I won't call. Also because a real “patericon” (a collection of stories from the life 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 lofty - to bring 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 some 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, but still "Modern Patericon" - fiction. Occasionally woven on a real warp; more often not. So for those who, by all means, 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.

Separately, I will also appeal to those who do not see hope at the bottom of the saddest stories, who are wounded by the father-eater and mother-murderer, and learned speeches about literary conventions, the laws of parody and satire only anger - before throwing the book into the fire (with previous editions “Paterik” happened, and this), it makes sense to look at its end, to read the last chapter. I promise it will get easier.

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

CYCLE ONE

READING IN CHRISTMAS POST

1 We ate. Suddenly Father Theoprepius crawled under the table. And he climbed in and sat there among the roughly shod feet of the brethren. The legs didn't move. Then Theoprepios began to climb and pull everyone from below by the cassocks. In his humility, no one reproached him. Only one novice monk asked in amazement: “Father! How would you like me to understand you?"

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

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

- Lergia tortured me, granddaughter. From poplar fluff, - the old man answered and sneezed.

“Bless you,” said the novice and ran for the electric saw.

For he had the gift of reasoning.

3 Father Stefan pulled his brother by the beard.

- Oh oh oh! shouted the brother.

- You're a silent man, - Stefan was amazed.

“So what?” said the brother. And wept bitterly.

4 One monk was very discouraged. No means could heal him. Then the brethren gave him a clockwork machine for his name day. The machine was able to turn itself, beep and flash its headlights.

- Wow, machine! - exclaimed the monk.

Since then, he never lost heart in his life. Every day before going to bed, he loaded pebbles into the back of the car, turned it on and watched it drive around the cell, turn itself, flash its headlights and quietly beep.

5 The brethren asked the elder:

- Tell me, father, where is it better for us to build a shed for firewood? Closer to the fence or next to the bathhouse? Or maybe behind the gate?

“Wherever you want,” the old man answered.

6 Father Yehudil doused himself with pea soup.

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

“Yes, I don’t know how to wash,” Vasya objected. And laughed.

“So you will learn,” Father Yehudil answered.

And laughed even louder.

7 Once the brethren went for a walk in the forest. We had just begun to walk, when suddenly Father Jacob got lost.

Yasha, Yasha! Ah, his brethren began to call. But the forest was silent. Only the cuckoo cuckooed loudly and mushrooms grew under the trees.

And why doesn't he respond? the brethren thought. "Maybe he's gone into lockdown?" Or took a vow of silence?

And Father Jacob climbed a tall tree, pretended to be a cuckoo and looked through the leaves as they were looking for him. And laughed and cuckooed!

8. Father Gavryusha was very fat and grunted in his sleep. One novice monk was not familiar with the monastic order and, having heard grunting, began to run around the monastery and look for a pig. He jumped on beds, shoved his stick into dark corners, even climbed onto the roof and left the pebbles down the drainpipe. So I didn't find it.

9. Monk Stepanenko prayed so fervently all night that he bruised his forehead. In the morning, a friend asks him:

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

But yesterday it wasn't. Perhaps he prayed all night?

No, I just fell.

“I thought I prayed all night!”

No, I just fell.

- I thought...

No, I just fell.

- Do you know how ours played with the Canadians?

No, I just fell.

10 Some brother stopped eating food.

Why don't you eat anything? asked his neighbors in the cell.

“And I am a faster,” the brother explained.

“Yes, but you will soon starve to death.”

- 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's very bad! - said the monk to the old man. 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 two rascals - let them now contemplate and smell the soul of their master.

- Is my soul like this vile thing? the brother asked.

- Much worse, I just felt sorry for you!

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

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

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

“They made the old man happy, that’s great, that’s great!” he kept saying with his mouth full. And he ate, ate, ate. And ate all the sausage from Finland.

The World Conference was very surprised.

13 The elder of one holy monastery, wishing to show the guests from distant countries What obedience his cell-attendant achieved, called him and, pointing to a red-haired mongrel in the monastery courtyard, said:

“You see, brother John, what is happening! A wolf is walking around the monastery!

- As if he did not strangle our chickens. Shouldn't you bring a gun? John replied.

Guests from distant countries clapped their hands in admiration.

14 Seeing a crowd of suffering laity near his cell, Father Paisios rushed to run. The suffering rushed briskly after him, someone grabbed him by the tip of his robe, but missed him.

For a long time they ran after the disobedient confessor, they already crushed two monastery flower beds, but they did not know how to catch up and were so upset that they went to complain about Father Paisius to the hegumen.

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

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

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

15 One brother came to the old man 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 won’t be able to do this, and I won’t be able to cope with this, and I won’t be able to do that.”

“Hey, Lyokha,” then the elder called his cell-attendant, “prepare some semolina for this.” He is very weak.

16 Father Dorimedont gorged himself on chocolate. Chocolate was sent to him in a parcel by his mother, and, coming from the post office, Father Dorimedont slowly accidentally ate everything.

In the evening he lay holding his stomach and could not sleep. The brethren, pitying him, danced around his bed and sang a monastic lullaby. But Father Dorimedon was still despondent.

“Look, he is holding on to his stomach,” one of the monks remarked. - Probably, he fell ill from asceticism. I'll bring a chocolate bar from the refrigerator to make him a consolation!

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

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

17 Monk Ambrose, who fulfilled his obedience in the refectory, after finishing the fraternal meal, sat down at the table and, taking out glazed cheese curds from the cache, began to devour them one by one.

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

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

Father Ambrose raised his eyes in amazement at the speaker, and he immediately vomited.

18 Brother Anthony got bored and decided to get married.

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

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

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

“God bless, guys, but only…” the elder hesitated.

- What? Tell us!

- Babs are so ...!

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 wept and through his tears answered:

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

Inok 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,” the abba answered, “don’t go.” Remain in your cell and weep bitterly for your laziness. Let's cry louder! Seeing how bitterly you cry, no one will touch you.

21 They told about Abba Averky that he often stumbled upon the walls and miscellaneous items, having many bruises on his body and even his face, for his mind was occupied with contemplation.

22 Brother Dukitius asked Abba Pachomius:

“Father, I don’t know how to behave with the brethren in our common cell and at the meal. Everything I do, everything is wrong, and I turned, unwittingly, into a clown. The brothers are constantly laughing at me and talking about me behind my back mockingly.

Abba Pachomius answered him:

“Nothing upsets and tempts a brother so much as the difference of one from the others. If you try not to be different from those who live 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 the demons torment me cruelly. I’ll just go to bed, close my eyes, and suddenly I’ll want chicken so much! Fried, with a crust, golden potatoes around, dill. Or not chickens, but just fish. Finnish red fish with white bread and butter. Or I stand up for prayer, and death itself wants to smoke, smoke just one cigarette. Oh, and drink a glass of wine. It seems as if all the forces of hell, all the demons have taken up arms against me ...

- Brother! - answered, laughing, the old man. - Well, what are these forces of hell, what demons. Demons tormented the ancient fathers, hermits, the righteous and the saints. And we ... The devil still has to waste his strength on us. So it's not demons. These are just your desires. To defeat them, you do not even need feats. You don't even have to be a monk.

- What do you need, honest father?

- Willpower, dear, willpower. And to harden it, do push-ups ten times every morning and pour cold water on it. And enough for you.

What about the Jesus Prayer? And the earthly offerings?

But the elder did not answer the questioning brother, saying that he had no 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 can do nothing. Let's at least admit it. And may the All-Merciful Lord have mercy on us.”

25 The novice monk asked Father Plato:

- What is the best way to start the path to salvation?

He also replied:

- Call your mom.

26 He also said: "Just don't reinvent the wheel."

27 Also: "You can't believe through your teeth."

28 He told women: “Every day, cook yourself oatmeal. Throw the grits of good deeds into the boiling water of passions; salting it with prayer and sweetening it with love for your neighbor, stir it with a lie of prudence. God willing, by the evening you will find yourself some suitable food.

He told men: “Charge the battery more often, otherwise you won’t start at all soon. 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 really faking it?" the brother trembled and crossed himself. - All of a sudden you just White bird?

- What you! I am in truth. If you want, touch it, - and the Angel held out a shining wing to him.

The monk, wishing to touch him, instead of feathers, felt only the air with his fingers - the wing was a real, angelic one!

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

31 One novice was very sensitive and often shed profuse tears during services. The brethren nicknamed him "Crybaby".

32 Two brothers quarreled. They lived soul to soul as novices, but after several years of serene life they were ordained - one, then another. And the monks in this monastery were supposed to have a separate cell. The brothers had to leave. Everything they had, they divided equally, only they could not share the VCR. They gave it to Father Gennady, but Father Methodius repaired it, twice own car I took it for repairs, not to mention the films, which I also mostly bought myself. The brothers nearly got into a fight over the VCR. In anger, they even forgot about the TV. And they went to the old man.

- Father! Judge us, - they rushed at the feet of Abba Micah. “We can’t share a VCR, it’s just a VCR. They gave it to one, the other repaired it and bought video cassettes for it, whose is it now?

Abba asked:

- Do you have any good films?

- A whole box! the brothers answered.

- And "Moscow does not believe in tears"?

- Yes, father!

“And Office Romance?”

- What about the fighters with Stallone?

And the fighters.

“Everything is clear,” answered the abba. - Both the video recorder and the cassettes should immediately be brought to my cell, do not forget to grab the TV as well. As soon as I decide to look, I will invite you to visit, the three of us will watch.

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

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

“And this, guys, is myself,” the elder answered and, having blessed, let them go in peace.

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

33 The novice Catherine received a letter. Reading the return address on the envelope, Katya almost screamed: “Denis, Deniska Grishakov!” The one who proposed to her just six months ago. The one to which she preferred monasticism. Deep sadness and longing for Denis immediately seized Katya's heart. And she went to the old man.

“Here,” she said to the abba, “in the world, Denis Grishakov proposed to me, but I refused him, went to the monastery. And yesterday he sent a letter, only I'm afraid to open it, such a longing in my heart. Suddenly he calls me back?

Father Andrian laid 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 did not happen, - the priest turned to Katya. - Try now for the Lord, try as for a loved one, with whom there is paradise in a hut, and nothing else is needed, just to be near.

How can I try for Him? Katya was surprised. - At least I saw Denis, walked with him by the 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 Bridegroom will begin to grow. Give me the letter, but remember today, come back exactly in a year, we will read what he wrote there.

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

34 Father John was going somewhere. He took the library books to the library, washed his socks, mended all the holes in his cassock, cleaned his shoes.

"Are you planning to run away?" the brethren asked him. “Isn’t it home, to mother and father?”

“There,” confessed Father John with a smile. “It’s good everywhere, but at home it’s better,” he added, and at the same moment he breathed his last.

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

Why are you crying, child?

- Here, grandfather, my kitten fell off the tree and died.

- This one, right? the old man asked, poking his finger at the dead cat.

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

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

The animal did not move.

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

The kitten was so frightened that he rose from fear, meowed plaintively and hid in the girl's bosom.

36 Mother Theodosius was assigned to take care of the chickens. A woman with a higher philological education, Theodosia used to only eat chickens and cope with her duties poorly, undergoing great sorrows.

Once the abbess once again loudly scolded Theodosius. Suddenly there was a cackle - the gray wolf, grabbing the chicken, ran away.

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

Give in the name of my Lord! she screamed terrible beast. - Give it back immediately!

The frightened wolf, seeing that they were chasing him, turned and released the prey. Theodosia picked up the chicken and carried it to the chicken coop.

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

“Here, sisters, taste the fruit of obedience,” said mother abbess, showing an egg at the meal. But no one could break it. On some reflection, the sisters placed him in the monastery Museum of Miracles.

37 About Father Theophan, who lived for many years as a hermit in a dense forest, they said that if he found a dead animal or bird, he would bury them according to the Christian rite, served a memorial service for the repose of the “dead creature” and did not forget to put a cross on the grave, knocked down from two knots .

38 The winter was snowless. It was Christmas Eve and still no snow had fallen.

The skete leader of one small skete went to a distant desert to an old hermit. Seeing in spirit what he had come for, the hermit went out to him and received him with joy.

- Righteous father! - the head of the skete began to complain. Christmas is coming in two days, and we still don't have snow. The brethren are discouraged. Like little children, the monks repeat that without snowdrifts and snow, Christmas is not Christmas. Forgive me, father, and tell me how to be!

Why didn't you pray and ask God?

- They prayed and asked more than once, but now - not a snowflake.

“Maybe you didn’t pray well?” Do you want to know what it is?

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

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

- Christ is Risen! - the old man said, and, leaning towards the furry muzzles, he christened with everyone. Then he hugged all the trees around in turn, kissed the trunks and kept repeating: “Christ is risen! Christ is Risen".

- You are truly risen! - sounded in response.

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

What is Easter, brethren?

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

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

The monks were silent, not knowing what to think.

Daniel died the same night. The blizzard subsided, but the snow was still heavy and often fell. He covered the whole monastery, all the paths, all the roofs, and only climbed down from the golden slippery domes, crawling in soft clods.

CYCLE TWO

READING FOR THOSE WHO HAVE TASTED THE SWEET OF THE TRUE FAITH IN RECENT TIMES

Writer

There lived a girl. Graduated from the Literary Institute. And it is necessary to happen to this - fell in love. The young man also wrote poetry, even composed a drama in four acts, but most importantly, he went to church. Word for word, the young man turned the girl in love. For only a month they were like services together, recited poems to each other. Suddenly the young man received an invitation from Switzerland. There he found relatives, who summoned him to their eternal settlement.

And the girl remained in Moscow, enlightened by the light of true faith. Out of grief, she began to write even more. She wrote mostly prose, worked in a small genre - stories, short stories, essays, rarely when she writes a story, but all with mere melancholy. And then one day she repented to the priest: “Oh, father, my beloved left me, and I am writing prose with grief!”

“Well, well,” answered the priest, “it’s a matter of life, a small sin, everything happens in life, just don’t publish it.

- Yes, of course, - the girl objects, - it seems that I was already offered to be published in the Youth magazine, since I am still young.

“The idea,” says the priest, “is not a bad idea in principle. But first you bring it to me. I will read and bless you.

The girl agreed, brings. And Batiushka, even though he himself was a biologist in his worldly education, he loved to read and look through little books. The father of the girl's stories is reading this, and already a tear breaks through him! The girl has talent. Writes well! Only unorthodox. Love, again, is carnal, spiritual, describes all kinds of heartaches - earthly one, in a word, there is no, how to put it better, it has the right direction, it seems to disdain our holy church - it doesn’t even remember it! The priest said this to the girl and punished him, how he writes, and then bring it to him. And with the magazine "Youth" the contract has yet to be terminated.

The girl was well-read, she knew what was supposed to be obedient, she terminated the contract. She writes further stories, not that she forgot her young man, the porter, but his image has already faded greatly, and a new image shone - father! In everything, his girlfriend obeys, brings stories to him, he reads them, it seems that the divine has become a little more, the right images have appeared, praises her, even corrects something with a pencil, says a little more, and we will start publishing. A little more, the girl thinks, and we will start publishing.

Here she just met that acquaintance from the Youth magazine, although now he worked in another magazine. I read her story or two and hinted that her writing had become worse, too “out of the box,” perhaps meaning that the girl was a little crazy. So three years passed, then two more, then four, a completely new millennium began, and the girl seemed to have grown old already, somehow began to stoop ugly. There is no happiness for me, he says, in life, it’s not even about publications, it’s just not there and that’s it. I'm missing something. Maybe self-realization, maybe fame, maybe children, but the world doesn't need me. Well, and that, sir. Drowned in the Moscow River.

The father buried her.

Dear brothers and sisters! What do we conclude from this story? The girl was mentally deranged.

One boy went with his mother to the theater. And the theater amazed him. The artists were there, like real animals, and the whole week later the boy portrayed these animals. Because the show was called "Mowgli". A week later, the boy again asked for the same performance. What you can’t do for your beloved child, my mother called a friend, a friend was connected with this business, worked in a kiosk, sold newspapers, and nearby, in another kiosk, theater tickets were sold, and she was friends with that cashier. A friend got tickets with a very small overpayment, again the mother and the boy went to the theater. And the boy sat through the whole performance with his mouth slightly open, and at the intermission he became very angry. And again, for days on end, he depicted the houses of Bagheera, Sherkhan and monkeys.

- Mom, I will grow up, I will become an artist, - the boy said.

“You can’t act without blat,” his mother told him. “I don’t have money for bribes.

But the boy grew up, came to the State Institute theatrical art on creative competition. I started reading the monologue. The commission gasped: the boy has talent! What to do - Fedya entered the first time, graduated, went to work in a famous theater, acted in films a lot, at the very popular series he was called to play a bandit, his mother watched her son on TV and wiped her tears of joy. Only Fedya himself liked performances in the theater more, so that the dusty curtain was pulled up, spotlights shone in his eyes, and he quietly went on stage in a suit or even without.

It was then that their theater went on the next tour, to Novgorod. Fedya walked around the city and went to their main St. Sophia church. He stood there for a while, looked at the icons, lit a candle, the choir listened, and - wow! I realized that God exists. Fedya became a believer, began to go to the temple, which was next to their house, attend confessions, take communion once every two weeks. Then the priest asked him: “And what do you, young man, work for?” After all, they have it without ceremony, immediately on “you”, because the people are their brothers. But Fedya, on the contrary, really liked it: both that it’s “you”, and that everything is simple.

“I am an artist,” he says.

– Artist?! Who are you playing?

- And who will have to.

- What, and love scenes and hugs?

Fedya answers honestly.

- And hugs, - he says, - but how, without this we cannot. We go on stage naked in one performance - such a find for our director; True, we stand with our backs to the audience. For the sake of this, everyone goes to this thing.

“Well, that’s what,” the priest said loudly and authoritatively. “It's all one hell of a thing. You need to drop this. You are a young guy, there are many professions in the world. It’s good to be a doctor, you can be a builder, we just need a carpenter, but leave your sinful occupation completely, it’s not Orthodox! Do you understand?

I understand, Fedya nods. Year thought. Still, it was a pity to leave. But what can you do to save yourself? In addition, there was almost no money paid in the theater, and you won’t go far on the series either. And quit. For another year he studied as a cabinetmaker and began working in the church of that priest as a carpenter. The iconostasis was cut out such that it is in the catalog ancient Russian art placed by mistake. The benches in the temple have also become prettier, the legs are carved, the seats are made in the form of long boats, it’s not very comfortable to sit, but it’s beautiful, Orthodox, in Russian, the father is not overjoyed - he pulled a man out of a disastrous swamp, and the temple benefits. And Fedya himself seems to be pleased too.

Only Fedya's mother was very upset. The bandit, whom Fedya played in the series, was killed according to the script in order to explain Fedino's absence. And since then, strange things have appeared in my mother. When Fedya comes to visit her, she doesn’t want to let him in, you, he says, are already dead anyway, son, why do you come to me, I don’t like the dead. But Fedya still came to her, brought food, stroked her mother's wrinkled hand. And she didn't mind at all.

Masseuse

Tanya Korkina trained as a masseuse and began to massage various sick children. Yes, so skillfully that she almost worked miracles. She developed motionless arms, legs, removed hypertonicity and hypotonicity, made premature babies heroes, raised children to their feet. There was no end to grateful parents, the clientele grew at such a rate that Tanya was already signed up for a massage for six months, and meanwhile Tanya became a believer and Orthodox. She had a spiritual father. Knowing Tanya better, he explained to her that children suffer for the sins of their parents. And it is the will of God that they get sick. And since she lifts them to their feet with her massage, it means that all parental sins are transferred to her. Tanya was nervous: what to do? How to bear such a burden? How many passed through her hands - it’s already impossible to count, which means how many sins! And the father is right there. He says it's very simple. Leave your unnecessary massage work, and so that the mountain of other people's sins that put pressure on your shoulders (and Tanya thought: they really do!), resolve, read three akathists every day. Sweetest Jesus, Mother of God and Nicholas the Wonderworker.

So Tanya did. No massages, a firm refusal to everyone, every day - three akathists, since then he has been living on his mother's pension and has no doubt that, through the prayer of his beloved father, he will meet the groom. Because he knows: for the prayers of the spiritual father, not so happens. Don't believe? You didn't read the books.

Believer

One person suddenly believed in God. He immediately took out a Makarov pistol from a friend and shot himself.

Right choice

One priest had a gift, from God. Still only the right aisle is being repaired, the roof is being repaired for the second year, they are covered with a curtain instead of an altar barrier, and its silver domes are already shining with golden stars, icons of the sixteenth century are in the iconostases, and one aisle even a new one was dug out and consecrated, under the temple, such an underground aisle, for special occasions.

Someone is just reclaiming a house for the clergy from the mayor's office, and he already has four such houses - one for the clergy, another for the Sunday school, the third for orphans, the fourth - a shelter for lonely old women. In each house - antique furniture, Voltairian chairs, marble floors, crystal chandeliers - looking at the beauty of man-made, a person remembers the beauty of God's creation, and there, you see, about the Creator himself.

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

I figured it out with Disneyland - I started building an Orthodox swimming pool, so that there was somewhere to plunge after an exhausting Lenten service or, conversely, horse races and carousel rides. They built a swimming pool, put a sauna next to it. They put a sauna - we need an Orthodox gym. They built a gym, we need exercise equipment. We bought simulators, we need an Orthodox hotel. With conference room. Because guests from abroad poured in to gain Orthodox pastoral experience from the priest. They built an Orthodox hotel, an Orthodox airfield was needed. They built an airfield, launched several dozen 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, to survey the property, again, to ride guests.

True, some guests were very swayed, for them - what can you do for the sake of your neighbor! - dug a canal to the Moscow River, organized pilgrimage cruises and the Orthodox fleet. Only the water still came out slowly - where to go, they began to lay the Orthodox railway. But the road must also be protected from robbers, random people - they organized their own Orthodox army, with banners, a choir, everything that is necessary. Then the priest sees that it is time to become an Orthodox president, thought and thought, but waved his hand. If also the president, there will be no time to serve, but I am still a priest, according to the order of Melchizedek. He never became president, he remained a father.

Visitation of God

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

It was here that the visitation of God happened to the priest. An old friend from school, Yasha Sokolov, came to see him. Sanctify the house for me, he says, and I will not remain in debt. The rector was not in the city that day, and he did not learn anything about this matter. They got into some good car and drove off. Suddenly they see a palace. With turrets, balconies, weathercocks, everything is as it should be. “This is my house and it is,” 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 father was surprised, but, well, he began to consecrate the palace. After the consecration, Yasha clapped his hands, a table with an unprecedented treat, overseas wines, printed gingerbread, drove out of the wall, clapped a second time, people entered, broad-shouldered guys, smart girls. “These are my friends,” Yasha explained and invited everyone to the table. Batiushka did not even know the names of many dishes, and he could not try many of them - they did not fit.

The father sees, Yasha seems to have relaxed, pours him and himself, of course, does not forget, father and ask him: “Where are you, Yasha, do you work?” Yasha laughs. And I couldn't stop for a long time. We, he says, are not supposed to work, it’s zapadlo, well, he understood in kind who we are? “No, I didn’t understand something,” the priest will not understand in any way. Yasha and tell him: “We are bandits, okay?” - "Clearly," the father was frightened. “But don’t be afraid, we won’t touch you, you are my sidekick and we can still do it.” Here Yasha generously paid off the father, nodded to the invisible servants, and they took the father home.

And from that incident, the father went from hand to hand: whom he will marry from Yasha's friends, whom he will baptize, whom he will again consecrate the castle, and whom he will rebuke 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, they also need a good education, and bought a brand new Skoda for himself (only white, to make it look more modest, the abbot drove a Zhiguli). Soon, however, the rector was removed, our former third father, but, God knows, he was not looking for it, somehow it just happened.

And the bandits? So what? Aren't they human? And to cut them off from the grace of God is a sin, there, you see, they will repent, like a righteous thief on the cross. So see you soon in the abodes of paradise!

About the benefits of psychology

Max, nicknamed Skripa, was not just a virtuoso city plucker, but also a great psychologist. He understood women especially well. And he guessed from just one wave of his eyelashes, from a smile that accidentally slipped across his face or a crease between the eyebrows suddenly appeared, whether it was possible to start hunting - with an inconspicuous movement, dip your fingers into someone else's pocket, cut a handbag - or it's better not to hurry yet. He achieved such perfection that he easily identified in the crowd not only those whose thoughts hovered in an unknown place and who were completely unarmed before his thieving art, but also those who, having discovered the loss, would have forgiven him. There were few of them, but there were some. In an argument with the bros, Max did the same trick several times - he identified such an all-forgiving victim, deliberately rudely took out her wallet from her, turned out to be caught red-handed - but each time the precisely filtered victim did not raise a cry, but simply in an imploring whisper (not out of fear - out of pity!) asked him to return the money. Max returned. But to himself he both laughed and wondered.

He never got caught, and later it served him well.

Because by the age of 35, Max was somehow terribly disappointed. By that time, of course, he was no longer jostling in the crowd, but controlled one of the city markets and did not grieve, but now it’s necessary ... tired, bored. He leaned heavily on sports, in his youth he did karate for several years, met in a fitness club with one person, a wrestling coach, who turned out to be a believer and put Max on both shoulder blades in 12 seconds, explaining along the way that not techniques are important for victory, but correct inner mood. What mood? And here's one. Not aggressive. In general, Max began to go not only to a fitness club, but also to church, to read books, to delve into. And repented.

Now the temple of Father Maxim is the richest in the city. Firstly, of course, the brothers prefer their father, they flock to him in a friendly crowd, donate unmeasuredly, settle all issues with the church and city authorities, and set up a fund to help prisoners. But, secondly, again, psychology. Some woman comes to Father Maxim, does not even have time to open her mouth, as the priest himself tells her what her problems are, how her husband, mother-in-law, children treat her, and how the boss at work. Further, his interlocutors themselves were speechless, and Father Maxim did not even say how to solve these problems, he did not give any special recipes - what kind of recipes are there, endure and pray, because the main thing was completely wrong. Most importantly, women felt that there was a man who finally understood them. And they left completely comforted.

So Father Maximus is known in his parish as a holy and perspicacious man, having the gift of converting robbers and healing women's sorrows.

One father could not do anything at all. He did not know how to repair the temple, and his temple stood for the fifth year in the forests. He didn’t know how to engage in bookselling smartly, knock out points, start a book business.

He did not know how to win back a clergyman's house, or at least 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, mobile phone, computer, e-mail, and even a pager. He did not have the gift of reasoning, the gift of wonderworking, the gift of clairvoyance, the gift of beautiful worship - he served in a quiet voice, so that if you stand far away, nothing could be heard. And what he didn’t have at all was the gift of the word, he mumbled sermons and repeated the same thing over and over again. His mother was not heard or seen, although he still had her, but they also had no children. So the father lived his life, and then he died. He was buried on a gloomy November day, and when people wanted to light candles according to custom, everyone’s candles lit up by themselves, and an unearthly light filled the temple.

good care

It was known about Father Joanikiy that he had a gift - to confess in detail. You confess to Fr. Ioanikiy, and it is as if you have been in a bathhouse, and you come out steamed and clean. People signed up for confession with him twenty-four working days in advance. Varvara Petrovna also signed up, but she still stood in line and was only the last to arrive, at five o'clock in the morning. Father Ioaniky began to ask her questions.

Did you spend too much time doing laundry? Did you throw away food? Soup? Porridge? Tangerines? Beets? chicken? Meat? Radish? Did you work on Sundays? How exactly? Did you wash the floor? Did you iron? Did you wipe off the dust? Did you clean your ears? Did she commit the sin of Sodom? Did you suffer from malacia? Has there been secret eating? Mischief?

The confession lasted two hours, just before the morning service. In the morning Varvara Petrovna came home, turned on all the gas burners without bringing a match to them, and lay down on the sofa in her outer clothes. But then her husband unexpectedly arrived: he forgot his documents at home, he returned halfway. He opened the door with his key, turned off the burners, poured out holy water from all the jars, threw a piece of Mamvrian oak into the garbage chute, a petrified prosphora from the relics of the Great Martyr Varvara, something else covered with mold fluff, broke the candles, kissed Varvara Petrovna on her pale forehead and said slowly : "If you go there again, I'll kill you."

Dear brothers and sisters! If the husband had not forgotten the documents, Varvara Petrovna would have ended up in hell. Let us thank the Lord for His all-holy and good care for us sinners!

One father was a cannibal. A man comes to him for confession, but does not return home. A young couple comes to get married - and disappears forever. They bring the baby to be baptized - both the baby and God-parents. And just the father ate them all. Only during the fasts everything was fine, people went to confession, were baptized, and unction without any disappearances. The Reverend, of course, knew about this father’s peculiarity, but he always said that there was no one to replace him with the father, but how strictly a person keeps his post.

Healing

One woman became very ill. I turned to my spiritual father. The spiritual father said: “Your illness is not to death. We will serve a prayer service to the great martyr Panteleimon, you will drink holy water every morning, God willing, get better. The patient did just that, took a two-liter jar of a healing drink from the church, began to drink it and rub it on sore spots. But she got worse and worse. Then the priest suggested that she smear herself in the evenings with Jerusalem oil, which regularly brought him one child every year. The patient began to smear herself with Jerusalem oil. It made her feel a lot better, but not completely. Then the priest ordered the woman to read forty akathists to the holy unmercenaries and doctors Cosmas and Damian, an akathist a day. And everything went well, but on the thirty-fifth akathist the woman died. The cause was also found out - transient cancer of the right lung. So the doctors would not have helped here either, they didn’t have time. And so at least the servant of God prayed before departing to the Lord, she prepared.

Dialogue on the benefits of humility for a soul that has lost paradise

- Father, my head hurts a lot.

- Father! Look, they cut off my leg.

“Well, it’s good for humility.

- Father! Chopped off right hand.

“Well, it’s good for humility.

- Father! The fingers on the left hand were shattered.

“Well, it’s good for humility.

- gouged out eyes...

“Well, it’s good for humility.

- Knocked out nostrils...

“Well, it’s good for humility.

- Father! They cut off the head.

“Well, this is probably too much.

Severed head, bouncing:

- Why?!

“Who will be humble now?”

Cuckoo

The novice Andrei decided that he was a holy fool.

The pastor is coming. Andryusha to him: mu-u. There is a dean: meh. Brother cook: Oink! Brother Regent: meow. That is, he simply screwed everyone up. He stopped going to obediences, did not succumb to persuasion, he only mumbled, croaked, cackled and crowed. At first, everyone endured, sighed: what can you do - maybe he really is a holy fool? Man of God. Moreover, sometimes it turned out terribly funny. After all, a détente in the difficult monastic life. But the abbot's father got tired of it in the end. He sent Father Andrey on a daily obedience to the world - to go to the orphanage in the nearest town and teach the kids there the voices of animals.

Ascetic

One young man decided to become like the ancient ascetics. He found rusty nails in the barn, tied them together and made himself chains, which caused him terrible torment, scratching his body until he bled. Two weeks later, the young man was taken to the hospital with blood poisoning and only miraculously saved from inevitable death. Since then, he no longer wore chains and every time, looking at the scars from the nails, he said to himself: “Here, fool, are the fruits of your stupidity.”

House in the village

Misha Petrov decided to comprehend the sweetness of the Jesus Prayer. Here, he thinks, I will shut myself up somewhere far away, so that no friends, no phone, no e-mail. Prayer day and night, a rare dream, a meager meal, so, some water, crackers, and, well, reading sacred books.

I hesitated for a long time because of the mobile phone, take not take, after all, the wilderness, you never know what will happen, but then I realized that roaming does not happen in the wilderness.

And I left my cell phone at home.

The session was just over, this year it was possible to work out the practice in September, and Misha decided to run to a house in the village, bought a year ago on a bet during a dialectological expedition from one grandmother - for four thousand rubles in a clubbing. Misha and three of his friends then won ten bottles of beer from the girls. It was the house of my grandmother's dead sister, and the grandmother was glad to be happy with these thousands, she promised to look after the house, and all that.

Misha told his parents and three other co-owner friends that he was going to visit their estate, of course, not a word about prayer - and his friends were very happy, only no one wanted to go with Misha - everyone had other plans.

Misha drove for two and a half days and finally arrived in Osanovo. That was the name of this village with a house. Knocking at the grandmother-saleswoman, her name was a little literary, Agafya Tikhonovna, but all the same she was a real Siberian grandmother. In general, like Valentin Rasputin.

“Hello, Agafya Tikhonovna,” Misha tells her. - And how is our hut on chicken legs, has it burned down?

- What you! Agafya Tikhonovna got angry. - Cost.

And they went to the other end of the village to visit the house. The house really stood, it only seemed a little smaller this year to Misha, and poorer, but it's still the same. The grandmother opened the door, he entered the house - and there it smells of some kind of herbs, and they hang in bunches in the entryway for who knows how many years.

Dark, of course, but nothing. Grandma left, Misha dropped his backpack, looked around, found buckets, some rags, went to the well for water, washed the windows. It got brighter right there. Then Misha hung up the icons - pray before what? He put the sacred books next to him in a pile, hung the rosary on his hand. Only feels - it's time to eat after all. Well, what is prayer without a meal?

I got food brought from Moscow, and canned food, and sugar, and salt, and cucumbers, but there is no bread!

Went to the local shop. This is what capitalism means: last year this store was not here, and now here it is - brick, neat, and in general, everything is there. And Coca-Cola and Snickers. I bought myself both. But also bread. And then Agafya Tikhonovna comes to the store - she is looking for him, you come to me, I will give you potatoes, last year's, large as a fist. And so it turned out. And Agafya Tikhonovna added three testicles to him to the potatoes - from under her own chickens. Here Marya Yegorovna, a neighbor, went to Tikhonovna, also calling him to her. Misha went, Yegorovna treated him to a jar of milk from her cow and invited him to come again.

Misha laid out all his wealth on an unpainted wooden table, bread, potatoes, poured fresh milk into an iron mug, fried scrambled eggs with abnormally yellow yolks. A grassy spirit creeps along the hut, oddly enough, not a single fly. He sits and thinks: “Lord, how good it is! So I have icons hanging here, and books are laid out, what else do you need? Let's eat now and start praying. And there’s no foot on the street anymore, there’s no point in all this - distraction. ”

But after dinner, Misha took out a sleeping bag, laid it out right on the floor, and fell asleep like a dead man. He wakes up, and his conscience torments him - you sleep and eat, but what about the Jesus Prayer, why did you come here? But somewhere the rosary touched, they got in the way on his hand, and Misha was embarrassed to go out with them, he took it off before going to the store, but he didn’t remember where he was. Searched, searched, found. We ended up in the hallway, on a carnation, I myself forgot how I hung it. Finally, he quietly stood in front of the icons, lit the lamp, everything was as it should be. Suddenly it got dark outside, it began to rain, and - wow! - the ceiling, just above the holy corner, began to darken - the water passes, the roof leaks.

As soon as the rain ended, Misha quickly went to the roof, one rung broke off on the stairs, he barely climbed, and everything really rotted there ... In general, there was enough work, and Misha, even though he was a boy from an intelligent family, took on everything, did everything in a hunt, and helped grandmothers a lot, and ran his own household, felt like a master, a simple person on native land, Lev Nikolaevich in the late period.

Well, what about prayer? And yes, it was all good. Misha returned tanned, even a little fat. Agafya Tikhonovna and Marya Yegorovna fed him properly.

Once upon a time there was a master of Orthodox affairs in the world. Zhil did not grieve, because his business was not translated. The clientele was mostly women. They came to his modest hut in a village near Moscow from all over the Russian land and asked for only one thing:

- Make me, dear man, Orthodox. Just don't overdo it. So that everything is just right and tyutelka in tutelka.

“But you don’t have to worry about this, mother, the mosquito won’t undermine your nose,” the master answered politely and, putting on a black leather apron, got to work. He worked quickly, quickly, fit in a few hours.

He always began with his voice: he inserted an iron throat into the client, and from that time on she began to speak in a quiet, as if forever torn voice, but in fact not torn, but humble. Then he took hold of his eyes - he dripped a special mixture into them with a pipette, he let in such a special haze, light, light, so that the eyes of women forever became sad and looking as if with some secret reproach, and at a special request - a little sideways. But it was not a reproach and not a squint, but an awareness of one's own sinfulness. Then the master took his lips. He made an injection in the edges of his lips - and since then women could no longer smile. Christ never laughed. He probably didn't smile either. This means that his true disciples should have become the same. So the master commented on his deeds.

The next was the complexion - a special green cream, infused with useful herbs, not etched for many years, made the face earthy, which contained a hint of a possible secret asceticism. Then the master took up the gait and posture, and after a short massage session, the client’s gait became unhurried, slightly shuffling, and her head lowered, so that from now on her sad eyes with a languishing reproach not only squinted, but also looked exclusively down. The matter remained small. The master handed a special handkerchief to each of his clients at parting. It was worth tying it around your head or even around your neck, as any clothes looked baggy and gray on you. That, in fact, is all. Clients paid the master as best they could, but usually very generously, the villagers always brought something from their gardens and from under the chickens, the capital things (there were most of them) attached expensive cognacs or whiskey to the fee. In general, the master did not live in poverty, and the clients went home happy with quiet Orthodox happiness.

On women of Orthodox affairs, the master got a good hand and somehow got used to them. Therefore, when men came to him, he was a little lost, although, of course, he did not show it. He also took up the hammer, pipettes, creams. And yet, the master's men turned out worse, with some kind of indelible eternal femininity in their eyes and appearance, with long hair, a wandering gaze, weak will, and sometimes stuttering also jumped out. Maybe he confused the powders, or hacked, and used women's remedies for men? Unknown. However, the sickly look, the shuffling gait, the gloomy wandering gaze - all this remained with the men.

Occasionally they brought the children to the master. But the children succumbed to processing very badly, they simply became twitchy and pale after the session, and some did not succumb at all, so the master forbade bringing children to him. And they were waiting for their mothers in the hallway.

- What about the heart, the heart? – especially advanced masters asked. - The main thing is not the external, but the internal person. Can you make an Orthodox heart?

“My heart,” answered the honest master, “I can’t change it. Otherwise, the Kingdom of God would have come to earth long ago. And this is not part of the plan of the Lord.

In his spare time, he liked to leaf through the Revelation of John the Evangelist. He especially liked the descriptions of various miracle animals.

CYCLE THREE

GOOD MAN

1 One priest was a bitter drunkard, and in moments free from hard drinking he dabbled in weed.

So what? The main thing is to be a good person.

2 One father was an unbeliever. He did everything as expected and tried very hard, but somehow he did not believe in God. In general, everyone knew about this, but they forgave him. But as before, if a communist does not necessarily believe in communism. Well, so is the father. The main thing is to be a good person.

3 One father suffered from kleptomania. Either a golden cross will be pulled from the church, or just a ten from the deacon's pocket. Everyone knew about it in general, but they understood - well, a kleptomaniac. The main thing is to be a good person. Batiushka valued people's trust and, when the pile of stolen things at his house became too high, he put everything stolen in a big bag and distributed it to the poor on the porch. That's what a good person means.

4 One father did not like blue. But even more he did not like it when they told about some priests, monks there, or someone higher up, that they were all the same in their monastery. Here this father would turn terribly dark in his face, look at his interlocutor point-blank and say very distinctly: “There are no blue fathers!” He got up, left the room, pulled the corner of his mouth, drank valocordin. But why bother getting on your nerves? Yes, even orange. The main thing is to be a good person.

5 One father was a great womanizer. He admired the feminine beauty, the curl that escaped from under the scarf, the woman's unhappy eyes full of pure tears, looking at him during confession, and fell in love with almost every one of his parishioners who was even a little bit pretty. And he thought to himself like this: “Oh, if only I could marry her!” But he never married anyone, lived with his mother, repaired a faucet in the bathroom, hammered nails where necessary, picked up children from school in the evenings, and, of course, also served. So the main thing is the main thing.

6 One father hated people. It didn't happen to him right away. At first he loved everyone. And then fell out of love. And he despised it. Whoever lived and thought cannot but despise people in his soul. Because there were many people, and over the years there were more and more, and they, these faceless hot crowds - firstly, breathed, secondly, pushed, climbed forward, rattled cans for holy water, poked him in the face with willows so that he sprinkled them better, thirdly, they asked schizophrenic questions, at confession they told about bad husbands and mothers-in-law, they demanded advice, but they never followed up on advice, fourthly, they believed in the evil eye, fifthly, they wore communion wildly screaming grandchildren on the advice of grandmothers -sorcerers. And on major holidays, the priest even tried to serve with his eyes closed. It seemed to him that he would open his eyes - and his hatred for them would immediately incinerate them. But somehow he was a very good person, in the circle of friends and family - friendly, affectionate. Just slightly irritable. And a great person. Made kites with the kids in Sunday school.

7 One priest could not stand the Jews. Wherever you look, they are everywhere: a Russian person can neither pass nor breathe! Whichever film you turn on, the director is a Jew. Whatever book you take, the Jew wrote it. Nothing to say about the music. Everywhere these impudent, big-nosed, Jewish faces! And no, they would not be sitting in their synagogue, because they also climbed into the Russian Orthodox Church, crowded ordinary Russian people. The father shared his indignant feelings with the parishioners, the parishioners listened attentively to him, but the Jews, of course, bypassed the father a mile away.

And so it all went on, the father’s views were no secret to anyone and, of course, did not interfere with anything - he was held in high esteem, for his length of service, for having restored the temple from almost ruins, organized a community of sisters of mercy, went to prisoners. From time to time, the priest was awarded various priestly awards, and on the thirtieth anniversary of his service, the patriarch himself came to the temple.

One thing was not thank God: the beloved and only father's daughter risked remaining in the girls. Some didn't like her, some didn't like her. The father had no sons, and he hoped that, perhaps, at least his grandson would become his successor. But what kind of grandchildren are there? And my daughter is already twenty-seven, eight, nine years old. When the groom suddenly appeared. Yes, what! A real Russian hero - oblique fathom in the shoulders, tall, black curls, blue eyes.

And clever! And hardworking! And he drives his own car. But most importantly, from the daughter of the father without a mind. Well, she certainly doesn't care about him. Soon the groom arrived to make an offer, in the old way - in a tie, with a bouquet of scarlet roses. Parents are knocked off their feet, they don’t know how to please him, his mother treats him, the father maintains a learned conversation, and the daughter sits neither alive nor dead and does not move. They immediately shook hands, appointed a wedding day, discussed various household matters, the groom is already dressed in the corridor and suddenly says: “Yes, by the way, my mother is Jewish, and my father is Russian. I took after my father, and my last name is his, but my mother is Jewish. That's what I said just in case." And left.

What started here! The father screams, stomps his feet, the daughter sobs, the mother runs between them and, in turn, puts a cold towel on their heads. Reader, you already guessed everything, right? All night the priest prayed before the icons in white towels, all night he asked the Lord for enlightenment, and the next morning, haggard and pale, he called his daughter into the kitchen, hugged him and said: “Oh, daughter, daughter, the main thing is that you be happy. You yourself understand that the main thing is that a person be good.”

So they did not refuse the groom. And they never regretted it. These are the miracles in the world.

Father Nikolay

1 Father Nikolai lived on the island. People went to him by train to Pskov, then to the village, from there three kilometers on foot, then sailed on motor boats and boats. And in winter they walked on the ice or rolled on special vehicles that are not slippery on the 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 anyway."

2 He was already very old and thin. Only his hands were strong, Father Nikolai beat them on the forehead of all the stupid and disobedient. And he sang songs, cleanly and loudly, like a young man. After all, his father was the regent of the church choir, and the priest loved church singing from childhood.

3 In early autumn, when everyone was leaving, silence rose 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. Father Nikolai showed the stone to all the island guests.

4 Once, several students came to Father Nikolai. Pasha Andreev wanted to ask him whether he should marry or not. But the conversation was general, it was not appropriate to talk about marriage, the students asked the priest various spiritual questions for a long time, the priest answered them, and then everyone began to say goodbye. Pasha was in despair. Then Father Nikolai leaned over to him and said quietly: "Get married, get married."

5 Father Nikolai said to one young man: “You will be a metropolitan.” The young man married, became the father of a family, a priest, and soon the rector of a large Moscow church, then an archpriest, with awards, the right to wear, the right to serve, but he never became a metropolitan.

6 Father Nikolai did not predict anything to Kostya Trudolyubov and did not show any insight about him, although Kostya often visited him. Only once the father looked at Kostya attentively and, lightly hitting him on the cheeks, said affectionately: “What, do you want to become a modern person?” Four years later, Kostya left the church, began to drink, change girls, laugh with the laughter of an experienced marijuana smoker, although he still loved and remembered Father Nikolai, he just stopped going to him. Why, he almost did not accept in recent years.

7 Katya Yakobinets aspired to the monastery from the age of fifteen. She studied at a music school, spent all her free time at the services, loved to pray, loved Abba Dorotheus, and after graduating from the school she became the regent of the convent of Zachatievsky. Sometimes she did not even return home - she stayed overnight in the monastery. Matushka gave her a separate cell, because she greatly appreciated good singing, but she did not rush Katya. Katya sewed two black cassocks to order for herself, bought a black scarf, went everywhere with a rosary, lowering her eyes. The question of her leaving for the monastery was practically resolved. Katya's parents were, of course, horrified. But there's nothing to be done - atheistic upbringing! So all that remained was to take a blessing from the elder. And Katya went to Zalit Island.

Everything worked out very well. From the train, she managed to board the boat, and the boat took her to the island. With the prayers of Father Nicholas! In the church, Katya was told that Father Nikolai was already receiving, she had to go to his house. Katya easily found the house and stood in a small queue of those who came to the priest. Everyone approached him, asked questions, and the priest briefly answered them. Soon it was Katya's turn.

“Father, I’m going to go to the monastery,” Katya told Father Nikolai. - Bless.

But Father Nikolai was silent.

“I just haven’t decided which monastery yet,” Katya continued. - I was even invited to New Diveevo in America.

“America is far away,” the father smiled. “And there are many good monasteries. And it is best to go to Athos ...

- Father, but there ... - Katya tried to object.

- To Athos! - Batiushka firmly answered her and, having blessed, let her go.

All way back Katya cried. And when she returned home, she hung a black cassock on a hanger, put a scarf on a shelf, and soon found herself a replacement to lead the choir. A year later, Katya got married, now she is already a mother. It is impossible to look into her face - it shines with happiness.

8 Father Nicholas was very fond of reading poetry. And if he found out that a person studied at the Faculty of Philology, he said to him: “So remember that particles would, would are written without a line. Some philologists thought and looked for a secret meaning in these verses - maybe would, would are someone's names. Zhenya, Lida, but here would? Or is it life, love and God? And they cannot be crossed out. Philologists thought so, and one even wrote down a poem in a notebook and decided to write about it scientific work. Suddenly I realized that this was just such a rule of the Russian language, and the rhyme was composed so that the rule would be better remembered. Father Nikolai used to work as a school teacher.

9 Often the priest repeated: "To whom the church is not a mother, God is not the Father."

10 And at the end of the conversation he always asked: "Pray for me, my name is Nikolai."

11 For many years, not only Father Nikolai, but also Baba Dunya lived on Zalit Island. Sometimes Father Nikolai sent people who came to the island to spend the night to her place. And Baba Dunya accepted everyone. She was vertically challenged, but rather strong, in a green woolen shawl slightly on one side, with clear, clear eyes. Her son drowned, her husband died in the war, but two adult daughters often visited and helped her. She was not abandoned.

Once Baba Dunya was doing major operation, and the priest at that time "opened the gates and prayed in the church." When Baba Dunya was being operated on on a white cart, the whole hospital poured out into the corridors to look at her, because everyone had already recognized and loved her. Before the operation, Baba Duna had a dream. It is as if she is standing in the church, and next to her is a relative who has already died, and many, many people. All the people are pouring down to the altar, and Baba Dunya wants to go with everyone. But the relative says to her: “Stay where you are. Stand here". Then Baba Dunya woke up. And then I realized: all those who poured into the altar are those who died or are about to die, and it’s still too early for her. The operation was successful, after all, the priest was praying, and Baba Dunya told everyone about it. “Our father is an old man,” she added seriously. Before going to bed, she lit a lamp in front of the icons, crossed herself, bowed, and then extinguished the lamp. This was her prayer. Baba Dunya fed everyone who came to her, put them to bed, and the next day she went out to the pier to see them off and be sure to wave her hand to them. That's all.

12 Once, during the winter student holidays, three girls, three students of the philological faculty, came to Father Nikolai.

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

The priest led the girls to 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 was delighted. “So remember that the particles would, would are written without a line! And then he told one who she would be, named her two main activities in life. He didn't tell the other two. Although they had something to say - one of them became a nun, and the other the wife of a priest. But Father Nikolai said only to the third, everything is correct, everything came true later, every word of his, only why she alone does not know. Probably because she was the most restless. Her surname was Kucherskaya.

13 “I’m leaving you,” Father Nikolai said sadly and was baptized. Everyone froze and could not breathe from grief. “But not forever,” added the priest and smiled.

“My age has passed like yesterday,

My life has flown like smoke

And the doors of death are terribly heavy

Already not far from me,

- to everyone who came to him, the priest read these verses. Everyone thought: this is the father presciently predicting his death. But the years passed, and the priest lived and lived and continued to read these verses. He said that he would live 104 years, but he died at 93. On the eve of Father Nikolai, he washed himself, put on a priestly vestment, took the cross in his hands, lay down and died.

Father Tikhon

1 In one village a boy was born. His father was a blacksmith, and his mother was a simple peasant woman. As a child, he fed chickens, sowed, harrowed, watched his father knock on a fiery iron with a hammer, but more than anything in the world he loved to play priest. He took a bowl, tied it to a rope, poured pebbles into the bowl and censed all over the house. Then the boy grew up, learned (and he loved to learn) and became a teacher. He taught physics and mathematics at school, and the children loved him, but not madly. They loved the athlete more, he played football with them. And then this man of ours got married, he had a son, a daughter, and he became a father. Not very early - he was already 50 years old. And again, he didn’t do anything special, he just went to church, served there what service was supposed to be, liturgy and all-night service, buried, got married, and it happened that he would be baptized. He laughed very funny, strange and a little strange, and whoever heard his laughter laughed himself from such laughter. Batiushka spoke kindly to people, and his hands smelled of something light and sweet, but it didn’t matter at all, he could be silent, and his hands might not smell. Just when he looked at a person, the person did not know what to do from happiness.

He had a cloak, and he had a hat, and he had boots. He walked down the street in them, from the temple to his wooden house. In the house his wife was waiting for him, who in her old age could repeat the same question eleven or sixteen times in half an hour. He answered her all sixteen times and did not get angry. And when he wrote letters to her in separation, he signed - “Tisha”.

2 Through his prayer, the Lord performed many miracles - someone was healed, someone solved their problems. family problems, someone performed cherished dream, someone forgave someone whom he could not forgive a whole life, everything was like all the elders, only it was completely unimportant.

CYCLE FOUR

READING FOR THE DISAPPOINTED

One monk became despondent and decided to hang himself. Well, somehow everything got tired, they got a person. He took off the chandelier in the cell, pulled the hook - it seemed strong, lathered the rope well - “Strawberry” soap, smelling so disgusting, he began to move the table, looks: there is candy on the table. "Stratosphere", his favorite since childhood, there are pink rackets flying into blue outer space. Sweets were given yesterday in the refectory for lunch for the sake of the patronal feast, but he saved and forgot. Okay, I think, I'll eat it, and then I'll hang myself. He unfolded the candy, put it in his mouth, and the candy wrapper, fyut! - and flew to the floor. Disorder. He is hanging here, and on the floor is a candy wrapper. The monk bent down to pick it up, and in the gap between the boards some piece of paper was lying around. He pulls it out, and this is a list of names, here it is, it turns out that one woman gave it to him the day before, asking him to pray. But he never prayed, he lost the leaflet, and this is where he ends up. Okay, he thinks, at least I will pray before my death, after all, one less sin. He lit the lamp, listed everyone, prayed earnestly for everyone, and then the gong rang - they were invited to dinner, even earlier than usual. He didn’t hang himself, he went to dinner - maybe they’ll give him the Stratosphere again, or at least the Bear in the North. Sometimes left for the next day.

merry fellow

One monk was devoured by black melancholy. He is already with her, and so - did not leave. And he was in the monastery the most cheerful person He joked all the jokes, laughed all the time. Only in the last year did the monk grow sad and become quiet, his melancholy left him completely, and it was no longer possible to joke. He suddenly began to weaken, weakened and died. During his funeral, a fragrance spread in the temple, it seemed to many that the lilac blossomed. And this father Vasily defeated the devil.

The victory of Orthodoxy

In a past life, Father Anatoly was a programmer. They whispered that it was brilliant.

Having entered the monastery, he did not yearn for anything as much as for his favorite computer - equipped, with "Favorites" of favorite links, with automatically changing screensavers, a cloud with a weather forecast that pops up during morning loading, the postman Pechkin, announcing the arrival of a new e-mail, different games yes, fun - in general, with all the large household accumulated during the student years, but deliberately left in distant St. Petersburg - for the sake of fighting attachments and saving the soul.

The first year and a half, Father Anatoly (then still simply Pasha) spent on the usual obediences for a novice - he worked at the construction site of a new building, mowed grass, chopped firewood, that is, he performed mainly physical work. When the trial ended, and he was tonsured into a cassock, the abbot of the monastery, a kindly person in principle, began to find out what else Father Anatoly was good for, and, having found out, was very happy. It happened in the late 1990s, new technologies were on the heels, two brand new computers had already been donated to the monastery, but both were undeveloped, because there was no smart owner on them. And the father rector gave father Anatoly a new obedience - to equip computers with everything necessary, to set up a personal e-mail for the rector, to create a monastic website - in general, to do everything, as in civilized countries, and even better.

Father Anatoly perceptibly revived. He persuaded the abbot to purchase a scanner, went on business trips several times to buy the purchases necessary for the new computerized life. And soon the monastery had a modest, but daily updated website with news, sayings of the holy fathers, sermons, a constantly updated library of soulful literature, which Father Anatoly actively scanned. The “computer father” broke away from the monitor only for services and a meal, sometimes he even spent the night on a hard sofa near his beloved pieces of iron. He improved everything and worked hard on something. After some time - it became clear what.

And the monks reached out to him. Having recited the rules and laid down all the bows, late in the evening they came to Father Anatoly to fight in computer games. And often stayed up until dawn. Especially, of course, young people. Father Anatoly, of course, did not keep empty shooting-shooters-tetris, only decorous drafts, chess, but most importantly - two more games, written by the priest himself, during the long monastic nights. They were the most in demand.

The first was called The Seven Deadly Sins.

After the screensaver with excerpts from John of the Ladder, reminding you how to deal with each of the sins, an exciting journey began. The figurine of a monk in a black cassock sat on a motorcycle and set off to overcome the temptations depicted by Father Anatoly with great fiction.

At the first stop, “vanity” (we say this for the reader, because in the game there were no warnings about what sin to fight), the monk was asked to read the inscription above the gate to the medieval Gothic castle: “The monk who does not dreams of being a bishop. Then the gates opened with a slight creak hinting at danger, and hospitable servants led the monk from hall to hall, more reminiscent of museum rooms. In each, bishop's vestments and headdresses were demonstrated, one more beautiful than the other. It was even allowed to try them on for a minute, but if the naive tried to leave the castle, forgetting to take off the bishop's miter sparkling with diamonds or even (foolish!) the patriarchal cockle, disgusting demonic laughter was heard from behind the screen, and the conceited proud man flew into the fiery river. Only those who were smart enough to try on and take off outfits, and then go home, got to the next level.

Here the player was tempted by the riches of this world - a cozy cell-house with a wooden bathhouse (and smoke was already curling from the chimney), bank accounts with hundreds of dollars, cars of all models and brands, cassocks of all colors and shades. At the third level, the monk was teased with almost heavenly monastic cloisters. The inhabitants in them lived each in a separate apartment, did what they wanted, and the father hegumen was on their parcels. Only those who did not envy someone else's happiness and did not try to stay here were waiting for a new level - "anger and irritability." Here on the screen just flashed red letters offensive nicknames. And this is what is truly worthy of amazement: some of the players who played were cut off right here, unable to bear these childish, in essence, name-calling. “Oh, you black-assed!”, “Stinker”, “Unfinished”, “You take on a lot, moron”, “Do you want to become a patriarch?” the screen laughed. However, the players understood that Father Anatoly had composed it all, took it for a personal insult, pouted, vindictively clicked on the little clouds with answers that quietly popped up on the left and, having completely enjoyed “The fool himself”, “Fuck you”, “Look, you fucking programmer ”, flew ... it’s clear where. In a raging fiery river.

The most persistent went on - and then one sweet girl asked them for directions, then another asked to help change the wheel, the third plaintively asked her to give a lift, the fourth in the form of a frog begged to kiss and save from the spell - but to enter into conversations with girls and frogs in which case it was impossible. Having passed this level, the player saw a message that he had been seriously hungry for a long time - a luxurious restaurant immediately popped up on the way. With a bar filled with drinks of all kinds, with cuisines from all nations of the world. It was important to notice a modest hut next to the restaurant - and stop near it. Only there the starving player received a glass of water, three crusts of bread, and the right to move on. Then it began to rain, the monk was forced to seek shelter, because the motorcycle did not want to ride on a broken clay road, and the shelter was ... in his own monastery, quite plausibly depicted by Father Anatoly. Then everything went on very similarly to the usual monastic routine - long services, fasting meals, some minor offensive clashes with the brothers, additional, unexpected obediences - in a word, sheer despondency, that was, of course, it; it seemed to the player in earnest that Father Anatoly had obviously tightened up with this part, but as soon as he agreed with the insidious proposal to immediately finish this stage and go to unwind - for example, play a game on the computer, like now ... Of course. Fire river. So everything was very instructive.

Well, for those who preferred simpler entertainment, the game "Victory of Orthodoxy" became their favorite. Really just football. Only bearded Orthodox priests fought in one team, and beardless Catholic priests fought in the other. The computer played for the priests. The game was arranged in such a way that as soon as the score was not in favor of our priests, the priests were sure to grossly violate the rules, and they were given a penalty. The Orthodox could not lose by definition. And they always won.

The rating of Father Anatoly in the monastery grew before our eyes. They began to sign up for the game with him, because one night everyone who wanted to fit in stopped, Father Anatoly, exhausted, but happy, slept during the day, and the rector endured all this, realizing that he could not find another such specialist ...

Father Anatoly was cut off on the creation of the monastic version of the famous "Civilization" - he had already completed almost everything, finished it off, for this he conducted extensive correspondence with colleagues from Moscow and the USA, joined the "Computer Genius" society, subscribed to several important mailing lists.

Only in the game of Father Anatoly it was necessary to create not a state, as in "Civilization", but a large monastery, with agriculture, buildings, brethren. The player, of course, was the abbot, and so the game addressed him: “Venerable father abbot!”. It was then that the real father rector ordered Father Anatoly to erase “all these arts”. Without the right to restore. And not because the abbot was offended or he pursued lofty spiritual goals with his ban. It’s simple - “they played, and that’s enough,” he was already tired of the fact that the monks from these games became like patients, they could hardly cope with obediences after nightly vigils and generally got out of hand. No explanations from father Anatoly that his games were extraordinary, soulful, did not help.

Father did as he was commanded. Erase both games, erased the third, unfinished "Civilization". However, after the ruin of his life's work, he cried for a whole week, he even fell ill from chickenpox disorder. How suddenly comforted. One pilgrim whispered in his ear that his cause was not dead, but alive, that both the Seven Deadly Sins and the Victory of Orthodoxy were sold on Moscow Gorbushka - because these games were downloaded a long time ago and without any knowledge of Father Anatoly by nimble hackers and then replicated for general use. And Father Anatoly glorified the Lord as ardently as, perhaps, never in his life. But it's amazing - computer games since then he has been ill forever.

Dubovichok

One young man kept running away from the monastery. Like spring, it pulls him back to his homeland. Save up money for a ticket, and once - already at home. He will live a little at home, sleep off, eat well, swallow his mother's dumplings to the bone, and it seems boring again, he wants to go to the monastery. What to do, he takes a return ticket, returns, falls at the hegumen's feet, repents, begs for forgiveness.

And Gumen was a gentle person, and workers in the monastery are needed, what can you do - he will give the young man, of course, three outfits out of turn, send him to peel potatoes in the kitchen or scrub the refectory, but still he will accept.

This was repeated several times. Finally, the young man got tired of it. After another escape, he arrived at the monastery with a thick long rope and no longer went to either the abbot or the brethren, but, having climbed into the farthest corner of the holy monastery, he tied himself to a huge perennial oak, tying the rope with a triple sea knot.

The brethren soon discovered him and asked him to stop these nonsense. But the young man did not listen to anyone, he was more and more silent and spent days and nights tied to the oak, despite the severe cold, rain, and then snow. They tried to tear him off by force, laughed at him, even called a doctor. But the young man was firm. The elder only weakly waved his hand: "Leave him alone." The carpenter of the monastery built a small booth for him, into which the young man climbed in severe weather. The stove-maker built a small stove in the booth. The monks brought him simple food and firewood. The abbot himself came to him several times and begged him not to torture himself, but to take care of his young health and return to work in the workshops - the young man knew carpentry well. But the young man answered: “If I untie the rope, I will run away again, and you still won’t have a worker, forgive me, father.” He lived in his booth under an oak for many years, and when his rope completely rotted, he asked for a new one. In old age, his legs were taken away, and only then did he allow himself to be transferred to a cell. One night, two pilgrims who arrived at the monastery saw that a shining pillar ascended from his cell into the dark sky. But it was only once, and there were no other special miracles. He himself called himself "the old man-dubovichok."

Tree of knowledge

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

They set off on their journey early in the morning, a day after the wedding, traveled by train for three hours, and then got out and walked. Grisha had all the churches marked on the map with one cross, and the monasteries with two. With a successful scenario, by the evening they were supposed to reach the first point - the Ascension Monastery. And now the newlyweds are walking along the road, singing prayers, reading Jesus, then they will rest, have a light snack, and go again. By evening they were very tired. Especially Tanya, who was terribly hungry, because two buns with spring water is still not enough for the whole day. And Tanya says to Grisha in an affectionate voice:

“Look, there are raspberries hanging over the fence. Let's break? And there are peas...

Grisha, who was also hungry, was silent at first, but finally answered:

- It's obvious - a woman! If you lived in paradise, you would do exactly the same as Eve.

- How is that? – said Tanya.

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

- I? Yes, for nothing. So Adam blamed everything then on a woman, but he himself!

Grisha just laughed.

– If the Lord forbade me, I would not listen to any Eve.

Twilight descended on the earth. Tanya and Grisha were just approaching new village. "Nikishkino!" Tanya read out loud. And Grisha looked at the map and realized that they would not be in time for the monastery, which they had hoped to come to in the evening. At least it's light. And they decided to take a chance - to ask someone for the night, right here in Nikishkino.

In two places they were refused, and from the third house the grandfather in a green flannel shirt looked out and said: "Come in." Tanya and Grisha were delighted! Moreover, the grandfather nodded at the table, which was full of food, and ordered them to have dinner. But he began to gather himself somewhere.

“Aren’t you going to have dinner with us?” the polite Grisha and Tanya asked.

“I’m going to lock up the chickens,” my grandfather answered quite friendly. - You can eat here alone. Porridge, potatoes, the old woman cooked everything and went to her daughter today, to Kutomkino, she will not 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 never comes back. They put the kettle on, Tanya said:

- Here are some pies. With jam! My grandmother, when she baked pies, always put them in exactly the same aluminum pan.

And Grisha answers her:

- And my grandmother used to leave pancakes in such a pan, only she turned the pan into a blanket so that they would not cool down.

Tanya argued:

- Well, what pancakes! Here are the pies. People are not rich, they don’t have vases, so they have to put them in a saucepan.

And Grisha to her:

- I'm telling you, pancakes!

- Pies with jam.

Here Grisha was quite angry and said:

- Well, let's check it out.

They opened the saucepan, and from there - a mouse. Yurk! and ran under the table. Here comes the old man. And the cat along with him - rubs between the owner's legs, meows, clearly asks the animal to eat. The old man went to the windowsill, opened the pan, but only spread his hands.

- Oh, you! It was the cat's dinner.

All hairs are numbered

Anna Trifonovna was lonely, she had no one left, her husband died long ago, her son died in the mountains, and she lived alone, and on Sundays and on all holidays she went to church. Because Anna Trifonovna was a believer, and it just so happened that in old age she was much more than in her younger years. And so Anna Trifonovna turned 74 years old, she became very weak, but she still tried to go to church and worried only about the fact that she would die without a funeral service, like some non-Christ. Then, perhaps, they will remember, guess that she died, or they will find out, and - they will remember, but in last way you have to go without parting words, the neighbors don’t care. And she told everyone about this that, they say, I’ll die, but who will give me a drink. And even wiped away the little old lady's tears. And the priest of this church, to which Anna Trifonovna went, was called St. Nicholas, she answered: “Look at the birds of the sky. They do not sow, they do not reap, but the Lord takes care of them. It won't leave you, don't be afraid." But Anna Trifonovna was still afraid.

End of free trial.

The “Modern Patericon” by Maya Kucherskaya was burned in one monastery, and in one of the seminaries they are used as a teaching aid.

There has never been such a book before. Disputes about it divided readers into two irreconcilable camps. Someone this collection short stories about the clergy and their flock seems too ironic and poisonous, others are convinced that the book was written with great warmth and love.

How really - to judge the reader, we only add that in four years "Modern Patericon" withstood five editions and went into proverbs.

Maya Aleksandrovna Kucherskaya

MODERN PATERICK

Reading for the Depressed

For several years now, stories about fathers, matushkas, laity and bishops have been coming to me from various parts of Russia, with modest additions - maybe it will be useful to you, just please don’t name them. I won't call. Also because a real "patericon" (a collection of stories from the life 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 Caves Patericon actually happened - of course yes. And the goals of such patericons are lofty - to bring 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 some 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, the “Modern Patericon” is still fiction. Occasionally woven on a real warp; more often - no. So for those who, by all means, 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.

Separately, I will appeal to those who do not see hope at the bottom of the saddest stories, who are wounded by the father-eater and mother-murderer, and learned speeches about literary conventions, the laws of parody and satire only anger - before throwing the book into the fire (with previous editions “Paterik” happened, and this), it makes sense to look at its end, to read the last chapter. I promise it will get easier.

And I confess frankly: the very possibility of our communication is for me a great joy 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 their tears, agree (argue) with you. Yesterday we didn’t know each other at all - and suddenly we already know each other. This miracle of meeting happens. To all for him the warmest and still surprised gratitude. Enjoy reading.

CYCLE ONE

READING IN CHRISTMAS POST

1. They ate. Suddenly Father Theoprepius crawled under the table. And he climbed in and sat there among the roughly shod feet of the brethren. The legs didn't move. Then Theoprepios began to climb and pull everyone from below by the cassocks. In his humility, no one reproached him. Only one novice monk asked in amazement: “Father! How would you like me to understand you?"

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

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

Lergia tortured, granddaughter. 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

Modern patericon. Reading for the Depressed

For several years now, stories about fathers, matushkas, laity and bishops have been coming to me from various parts of Russia, with modest additions - maybe it will be useful to you, just please don’t name them. I won't call. Also because a real “patericon” (a collection of stories from the life 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 lofty - to bring 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 some 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, the “Modern Patericon” is still fiction. Occasionally woven on a real warp; more often not. So for those who, by all means, 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.
Separately, I will also appeal to those who do not see hope at the bottom of the saddest stories, who are wounded by the father-eater and mother-murderer, and learned speeches about literary conventions, the laws of parody and satire only anger - before throwing the book into the fire (with previous editions “Paterik” happened, and this), it makes sense to look at its end, to read the last chapter. I promise it will get easier.
And I confess frankly: the very possibility of our communication is for me a great joy 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 their tears, agree (argue) with you. Yesterday we didn’t know each other at all - and suddenly we already know each other. This miracle of meeting happens. To all for him the warmest and still surprised gratitude. Enjoy reading.
Your Author

CYCLE ONE

READING IN CHRISTMAS POST

1 We ate. Suddenly Father Theoprepius crawled under the table. And he climbed in and sat there among the roughly shod feet of the brethren. The legs didn't move. Then Theoprepios began to climb and pull everyone from below by the cassocks. In his humility, no one reproached him. Only one novice monk asked in amazement: “Father! How would you like me to understand you?"
“I want to be like a child,” was the answer.
2 The elder, who was known to be sagacious, instructed the novice to cut down the poplar that grew right in the middle of the monastery. The novice, wanting to comprehend the hidden meaning of the request, said: “Father, why cut him down?”
- Lergia tortured me, granddaughter. From poplar fluff, - the old man answered and sneezed.
“Bless you,” said the novice and ran for the electric saw.
For he had the gift of reasoning.
3 Father Stefan pulled his brother by the beard.
- Oh oh oh! shouted the brother.
- You're a silent man, - Stefan was amazed.
“So what?” said the brother. And wept bitterly.
4 One monk was very discouraged. No means could heal him. Then the brethren gave him a clockwork machine for his name day. The machine was able to turn itself, beep and flash its headlights.
- Wow, machine! - exclaimed the monk.
Since then, he never lost heart in his life. Every day before going to bed, he loaded pebbles into the back of the car, turned it on and watched it drive around the cell, turn itself, flash its headlights and quietly beep.
5 The brethren asked the elder:
- Tell me, father, where is it better for us to build a shed for firewood? Closer to the fence or next to the bathhouse? Or maybe behind the gate?
“Wherever you want,” the old man answered.
6 Father Yehudil doused himself with pea soup.
“Listen, Vasya, wash my cassock,” he said to a novice who had recently entered the monastery.
“Yes, I don’t know how to wash,” Vasya objected. And laughed.
“So you will learn,” Father Yehudil answered.
And laughed even louder.
7 Once the brethren went for a walk in the forest. We had just begun to walk, when suddenly Father Jacob got lost.
Yasha, Yasha! Ah, his brethren began to call. But the forest was silent. Only the cuckoo cuckooed loudly and mushrooms grew under the trees.
And why doesn't he respond? the brethren thought. "Maybe he's gone into lockdown?" Or took a vow of silence?
And Father Jacob climbed a tall tree, pretended to be a cuckoo and looked through the leaves as they were looking for him. And laughed and cuckooed!
8. Father Gavryusha was very fat and grunted in his sleep. One novice monk was not familiar with the monastic order and, having heard grunting, began to run around the monastery and look for a pig. He jumped on beds, shoved his stick into dark corners, even climbed onto the roof and left the pebbles down the drainpipe. So I didn't find it.
9. Monk Stepanenko prayed so fervently all night that he bruised his forehead. In the morning, a friend asks him:
- What is it, Stepanenko, you have a bump on your forehead?
But yesterday it wasn't. Perhaps he prayed all night?
No, I just fell.
“I thought I prayed all night!”
No, I just fell.
- I thought...
No, I just fell.
- Do you know how ours played with the Canadians?
No, I just fell.
10 Some brother stopped eating food.
Why don't you eat anything? asked his neighbors in the cell.
“And I am a faster,” the brother explained.
“Yes, but you will soon starve to death.”
- 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's very bad! - said the monk to the old man. 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 two rascals - let them now contemplate and smell the soul of their master.
- Is my soul like this vile thing? the brother asked.
- Much worse, I just felt sorry for you!
From that time on, the brother, seeing someone sinning, immediately brought the stinking rag close to his face, which he now always kept with him, and received consolation.
12 One day the participants of the World Conference came to the monastery and at the meal they began to treat the brethren with sausage brought from Finland.
The brethren deliberately turned away in the other direction, so as not to see and accidentally eat. One old man was terribly happy.
“They made the old man happy, that’s great, that’s great!” he kept saying with his mouth full. And he ate, ate, ate. And ate all the sausage from Finland.
The World Conference was very surprised.
13 The elder of one holy monastery, wanting to show the guests from distant lands what obedience his cell-attendant had achieved, called him and, pointing to a red-haired mongrel in the monastery courtyard, said:
“You see, brother John, what is happening! A wolf is walking around the monastery!
- As if he did not strangle our chickens. Shouldn't you bring a gun? John replied.
Guests from distant countries clapped their hands in admiration.
14 Seeing a crowd of suffering laity near his cell, Father Paisios rushed to run. The suffering rushed briskly after him, someone grabbed him by the tip of his robe, but missed him.
For a long time they ran after the disobedient confessor, they already crushed two monastery flower beds, but they did not know how to catch up and were so upset that they went to complain about Father Paisius to the hegumen.
The abbot, having gone out onto the porch, beckoned Father Paisius with a thick finger and said in his ear:
– Why are you running away from your spiritual children, brother?
“Not from them, father, but from the spirit of vanity,” answered Father Paisius, out of breath.
15 One brother came to the old man 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 won’t be able to do this, and I won’t be able to cope with this, and I won’t be able to do that.”
“Hey, Lyokha,” then the elder called his cell-attendant, “prepare some semolina for this.” He is very weak.
16 Father Dorimedont gorged himself on chocolate. Chocolate was sent to him in a parcel by his mother, and, coming from the post office, Father Dorimedont slowly accidentally ate everything.
In the evening he lay holding his stomach and could not sleep. The brethren, pitying him, danced around his bed and sang a monastic lullaby. But Father Dorimedon was still despondent.
“Look, he is holding on to his stomach,” one of the monks remarked. - Probably, he fell ill from asceticism. I'll bring a chocolate bar from the refrigerator to make him a consolation!
“Not that,” groaned Father Dorimedont in horror. - Give me a sip of salted water.
Hearing this, the brethren marveled at the manner of his life and increased the fast.
17 Monk Ambrose, who fulfilled his obedience in the refectory, after finishing the fraternal meal, sat down at the table and, taking out glazed cheese curds from the cache, began to devour them one by one.
At that moment, another monk entered the refectory and saw his brother eating cheese.
“Forgive me, father, for reminding you!” - noticed the monk who entered. “But today is a day of strict fasting, for today is Christmas Eve.
Father Ambrose raised his eyes in amazement at the speaker, and he immediately vomited.
18 Brother Anthony got bored and decided to get married.
"I am getting married!" he told the brethren. The brethren, out of love for him, did not want to let him go alone into the sinful world and decided to go with him together in order to share his fate. The elder at that time left for the World Conference, and there was no one to consult with.
The monks gathered at the gates, crossed themselves in farewell to the temples, and then the elder enters the gate - he returned from the conference.
- Bless, father, for the last time, let's go to the world to get married! the brethren turned to him with weeping.
“God bless, guys, but only…” the elder hesitated.
- What? Tell us!
- Babs are so ...!
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 wept and through his tears answered:
- Child, my child! You did not understand anything. Go wherever you want.
Inok 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,” the abba answered, “don’t go.” Remain in your cell and weep bitterly for your laziness. Let's cry louder! Seeing how bitterly you cry, no one will touch you.
21 They told about Abba Averky that he often stumbled upon walls and various objects, having many bruises on his body and even his face, because his mind was busy with contemplation.
22 Brother Dukitius asked Abba Pachomius:
“Father, I don’t know how to behave with the brethren in our common cell and at the meal. Everything I do, everything is wrong, and I turned, unwittingly, into a clown. The brothers are constantly laughing at me and talking about me behind my back mockingly.
Abba Pachomius answered him:
“Nothing upsets and tempts a brother so much as the difference of one from the others. If you try not to be different from those who live 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 the demons torment me cruelly. I’ll just go to bed, close my eyes, and suddenly I’ll want chicken so much! Fried, with a crust, golden potatoes around, dill. Or not chickens, but just fish. Finnish red fish with white bread and butter. Or I stand up for prayer, and death itself wants to smoke, smoke just one cigarette. Oh, and drink a glass of wine. It seems as if all the forces of hell, all the demons have taken up arms against me ...
- Brother! - answered, laughing, the old man. - Well, what are these forces of hell, what demons. Demons tormented the ancient fathers, hermits, the righteous and the saints. And we ... The devil still has to waste his strength on us. So it's not demons. These are just your desires. To defeat them, you do not even need feats. You don't even have to be a monk.
- What do you need, honest father?
- Willpower, dear, willpower. And to harden it, do push-ups ten times every morning and pour cold water on it. And enough for you.
What about the Jesus Prayer? And the earthly offerings?
But the elder did not answer the questioning brother, saying that he had no 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 can do nothing. Let's at least admit it. And may the All-Merciful Lord have mercy on us.”
25 The novice monk asked Father Plato:
- What is the best way to start the path to salvation?
He also replied:
- Call your mom.
26 He also said: "Just don't reinvent the wheel."
27 Also: "You can't believe through your teeth."
28 He told women: “Every day, cook yourself oatmeal. Throw the grits of good deeds into the boiling water of passions; salting it with prayer and sweetening it with love for your neighbor, stir it with a lie of prudence. God willing, by the evening you will find yourself some suitable food.
He told men: “Charge the battery more often, otherwise you won’t start at all soon. 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 really faking it?" the brother trembled and crossed himself. “What if you’re just a white bird?”
- What you! I am in truth. If you want, touch it, - and the Angel held out a shining wing to him.
The monk, wishing to touch him, instead of feathers, felt only the air with his fingers - the wing was a real, angelic one!
30 They said about Father Jeremiah that he had a special cell-attendant with him, who changed Abba's handkerchiefs every hour - he cried so much.
31 One novice was very sensitive and often shed profuse tears during services. The brethren nicknamed him "Crybaby".
32 Two brothers quarreled. They lived soul to soul as novices, but after several years of serene life they were ordained - one, then another. And the monks in this monastery were supposed to have a separate cell. The brothers had to leave. Everything they had, they divided equally, only they could not share the VCR. They gave it to Father Gennady, but Father Methodius repaired it, took it to repair twice in his own car, not to mention the films, which he also mostly bought himself. The brothers nearly got into a fight over the VCR. In anger, they even forgot about the TV. And they went to the old man.
- Father! Judge us, - they rushed at the feet of Abba Micah. “We can’t share a VCR, it’s just a VCR. They gave it to one, the other repaired it and bought video cassettes for it, whose is it now?
Abba asked:
- Do you have any good films?
- A whole box! the brothers answered.
- And "Moscow does not believe in tears"?
- Yes, father!
“And Office Romance?”
- And he.
- What about the fighters with Stallone?
And the fighters.
“Everything is clear,” answered the abba. - Both the video recorder and the cassettes should immediately be brought to my cell, do not forget to grab the TV as well. As soon as I decide to look, I will invite you to visit, the three of us will watch.
The comforted brothers did as the elder commanded them. And the TV, and the VCR, and the box of films they put in his cell.
- Do I need to connect? the brothers asked the elder.
“And this, guys, is myself,” the elder answered and, having blessed, let them go in peace.
But since then, the elder never once called them, the brothers did not dare to remind him of his long-standing promise.
33 The novice Catherine received a letter. Reading the return address on the envelope, Katya almost screamed: “Denis, Deniska Grishakov!” The one who proposed to her just six months ago. The one to which she preferred monasticism. Deep sadness and longing for Denis immediately seized Katya's heart. And she went to the old man.
“Here,” she said to the abba, “in the world, Denis Grishakov proposed to me, but I refused him, went to the monastery. And yesterday he sent a letter, only I'm afraid to open it, such a longing in my heart. Suddenly he calls me back?
Father Andrian laid 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 did not happen, - the priest turned to Katya. - Try now for the Lord, try as for a loved one, with whom there is paradise in a hut, and nothing else is needed, just to be near.
How can I try for Him? Katya was surprised. - At least I saw Denis, walked with him by the 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 Bridegroom will begin to grow. Give me the letter, but remember today, come back exactly in a year, we will read what he wrote there.
Katya gave the letter to the father, he put it in the bottom drawer of his desk, only she never got a chance to read the letter - a few months later the father fell ill and died - where can I look for an old letter. Exactly one year after that cherished day, Katya learned from acquaintances who came to the monastery that Denis had married.
34 Father John was going somewhere. He took the library books to the library, washed his socks, mended all the holes in his cassock, cleaned his shoes.
"Are you planning to run away?" the brethren asked him. “Isn’t it home, to mother and father?”
“There,” confessed Father John with a smile. “It’s good everywhere, but at home it’s better,” he added, and at the same moment he breathed his last.
35 The elder was walking near the monastery in the forest. Suddenly he looks - a girl with a kitten in her arms is standing on the road and crying bitterly.
Why are you crying, child?
- Here, grandfather, my kitten fell off the tree and died.
- This one, right? the old man asked, poking his finger at the dead cat.
“This one,” the girl nodded, and sobbed even louder.
- He's just pretending! Well, answer me: kitty-kitty, do you know how to catch rats?
The animal did not move.
- Ah well! - the old man got angry. And bulging his eyes, he shouted: - Well, then I'll eat you now!
The kitten was so frightened that he rose from fear, meowed plaintively and hid in the girl's bosom.
36 Mother Theodosius was assigned to take care of the chickens. A woman with a higher philological education, Theodosia used to only eat chickens and cope with her duties poorly, undergoing great sorrows.
Once the abbess once again loudly scolded Theodosius. Suddenly there was a cackle - the gray wolf, grabbing the chicken, ran away.
- Come on, catch up with him and bring the chicken back! cried the abbess in an angry voice. Theodosius rushed after the wolf.
Give in the name of my Lord! she screamed at the terrible beast. - Give it back immediately!
The frightened wolf, seeing that they were chasing him, turned and released the prey. Theodosia picked up the chicken and carried it to the chicken coop.
Strongly dented, but alive, the chicken completely recovered by the evening. And the next morning she laid a golden egg.
“Here, sisters, taste the fruit of obedience,” said mother abbess, showing an egg at the meal. But no one could break it. On some reflection, the sisters placed him in the monastery Museum of Miracles.
37 About Father Theophan, who lived for many years as a hermit in a dense forest, they said that if he found a dead animal or bird, he would bury them according to the Christian rite, served a memorial service for the repose of the “dead creature” and did not forget to put a cross on the grave, knocked down from two knots .
38 The winter was snowless. It was Christmas Eve and still no snow had fallen.
The skete leader of one small skete went to a distant desert to an old hermit. Seeing in spirit what he had come for, the hermit went out to him and received him with joy.
- Righteous father! - the head of the skete began to complain. Christmas is coming in two days, and we still don't have snow. The brethren are discouraged. Like little children, the monks repeat that without snowdrifts and snow, Christmas is not Christmas. Forgive me, father, and tell me how to be!
Why didn't you pray and ask God?
- They prayed and asked more than once, but now - not a snowflake.
“Maybe you didn’t pray well?” Do you want to know what it is?
Then the elder stretched out his hands to heaven and began to pray. A few minutes later, dark snow clouds gathered in a clear sky, and snow began to fall. The chief of the skete fell on his face in horror and bowed to the elder. But when he got up, the old man was no longer around - he ran into the forest.
39 Easter came at the end of April. The hermit Feofan prayed all night, and in the morning he heard birds knocking on his windows with their beaks. He went outside. All the forest animals gathered in the clearing in front of his hut - bears and wolves, foxes and hares sat side by side and looked at him through the transparent twilight.
- Christ is Risen! - the old man said, and, leaning towards the furry muzzles, he christened with everyone. Then he hugged all the trees around in turn, kissed the trunks and kept repeating: “Christ is risen! Christ is Risen".
- You are truly risen! - sounded in response.
40 As soon as brother Daniel entered the monastery, he fell seriously ill. The brethren, knowing about his unrighteous past life, prayed to God that he would not die, but also live with them and have time for repentance. However, soon Daniel stopped rising and was already on the verge of death. The brethren came to say goodbye to him. He did not respond for a long time, silently lay with his eyes closed. But suddenly he woke up:
What is Easter, brethren?
- What an Easter, Danilushko! It's February, can't you hear how the blizzard howls?
“I hear singing,” Daniel answered. - Isn't it you who sing: "Christ is Risen"? And where does this light come from? he asked.
The monks were silent, not knowing what to think.
Daniel died the same night. The blizzard subsided, but the snow was still heavy and often fell. He covered the whole monastery, all the paths, all the roofs, and only climbed down from the golden slippery domes, crawling in soft clods.

CYCLE TWO

READING FOR THOSE WHO HAVE TASTED THE SWEET OF THE TRUE FAITH IN RECENT TIMES

Writer

There lived a girl. Graduated from the Literary Institute. And it is necessary to happen to this - fell in love. The young man also wrote poetry, even composed a drama in four acts, but most importantly, he went to church. Word for word, the young man turned the girl in love. For only a month they were like services together, recited poems to each other. Suddenly the young man received an invitation from Switzerland. There he found relatives, who summoned him to their eternal settlement.
And the girl remained in Moscow, enlightened by the light of true faith. Out of grief, she began to write even more. She wrote mostly prose, worked in a small genre - stories, short stories, essays, rarely when she writes a story, but all with mere melancholy. And then one day she repented to the priest: “Oh, father, my beloved left me, and I am writing prose with grief!”
“Well, well,” answered the priest, “it’s a matter of life, a small sin, everything happens in life, just don’t publish it.
- Yes, of course, - the girl objects, - it seems that I was already offered to be published in the Youth magazine, since I am still young.
“The idea,” says the priest, “is not a bad idea in principle. But first you bring it to me. I will read and bless you.
The girl agreed, brings. And Batiushka, even though he himself was a biologist in his worldly education, he loved to read and look through little books. The father of the girl's stories is reading this, and already a tear breaks through him! The girl has talent. Writes well! Only unorthodox. Love, again, is carnal, spiritual, describes all kinds of heartaches - earthly one, in a word, there is no, how to put it better, it has the right direction, it seems to disdain our holy church - it doesn’t even remember it! The priest said this to the girl and punished him, how he writes, and then bring it to him. And with the magazine "Youth" the contract has yet to be terminated.
The girl was well-read, she knew what was supposed to be obedient, she terminated the contract. She writes further stories, not that she forgot her young man, the porter, but his image has already faded greatly, and a new image shone - father! In everything, his girlfriend obeys, brings stories to him, he reads them, it seems that the divine has become a little more, the right images have appeared, praises her, even corrects something with a pencil, says a little more, and we will start publishing. A little more, the girl thinks, and we will start publishing.
Here she just met that acquaintance from the Youth magazine, although now he worked in another magazine. I read her story or two and hinted that her writing had become worse, too “out of the box,” perhaps meaning that the girl was a little crazy. So three years passed, then two more, then four, a completely new millennium began, and the girl seemed to have grown old already, somehow began to stoop ugly. There is no happiness for me, he says, in life, it’s not even about publications, it’s just not there and that’s it. I'm missing something. Maybe self-realization, maybe fame, maybe children, but the world doesn't need me. Well, and that, sir. Drowned in the Moscow River.
The father buried her.
Dear brothers and sisters! What do we conclude from this story? The girl was mentally deranged.

Artist

One boy went with his mother to the theater. And the theater amazed him. The artists were there, like real animals, and the whole week later the boy portrayed these animals. Because the show was called "Mowgli". A week later, the boy again asked for the same performance. What you can’t do for your beloved child, my mother called a friend, a friend was connected with this business, worked in a kiosk, sold newspapers, and nearby, in another kiosk, theater tickets were sold, and she was friends with that cashier. A friend got tickets with a very small overpayment, again the mother and the boy went to the theater. And the boy sat through the whole performance with his mouth slightly open, and at the intermission he became very angry. And again, for days on end, he depicted the houses of Bagheera, Sherkhan and monkeys.

From the author. There is an old German saying that describes the main facets of female existence. Kinder, kyuhe, kirche. My addictions are perfectly exhausted by this triad. Three K and three L. 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 pizza for us, brews mysterious tea mixtures, and the soul sings. And I also like to go to the church, in Russian - to the 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 is terribly hard, all the time 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, diverse, Rich life. With illnesses, catastrophes, 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 a grotesque.

So I'm running around my triangle. And I am also 33 years old. And I live in Moscow, I work either as a literary critic, or as a teacher. I published in the journals Postscriptum and Volga, which published my stories, and then the first big story, The Story of an Acquaintance (1998, No. 10), with rare friendliness and hospitality.

Completely "Modern Patericon" is published by the publishing house "Vremya".

Father Nikolay

1. Father Nikolai lived on the island. People went to him by train to Pskov, then to the village, from there three kilometers on foot, and then sailed on motor boats and boats. And in winter they walked on the ice or rolled on special cars that are not slippery on the 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 anyway." He was old. Only his hands were strong, he beat them on the forehead of all the stupid and disobedient. And he sang songs, cleanly and loudly, like a young man. After all, his father was the regent of the church choir, and the priest loved church singing from childhood.

2. In early autumn, when everyone was leaving, silence rose 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 here, on the island, there were Lithuanians.

3. Once, several students came to 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 now everyone began to say goodbye. Then Father Nikolai leaned over to Pasha and said quietly: "Get married, get married."

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

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

The priest led the girls to 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 was delighted. “So remember that the 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. He didn't tell the other two. Although they had something to say - one of them became a nun, and the other the wife of a priest. But Father Nikolai said only to the third, everything is correct, everything came true later, every word of his, only why she alone does not know. Probably because she was the most restless. Her surname was Kucherskaya.

Right choice

One priest had a gift, from God. Still only the right aisle is being repaired, the roof is being repaired for the second year, they are covered with a curtain instead of an altar barrier, and its silver domes are already shining with golden stars, icons of the sixteenth century are in the iconostases, and one aisle even a new one was dug out and consecrated, under the temple, such an underground aisle, for special occasions. Someone is just reclaiming a house for the clergy from the mayor's office, and he already has four such houses - one for the clergy, another for the Sunday school, the third for orphans, the fourth - a shelter for lonely old women. In each house - antique furniture, Voltairian chairs, marble floors, crystal chandeliers - looking at the beauty of man-made, a person remembers the beauty of God's creation, and there, you see, about the Creator himself.

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

He figured out the saints - he began to build an Orthodox pool, so that there was somewhere to plunge after the exhausting Lenten services or, conversely, horse races and carousel rides. They built a swimming pool, put a sauna next to it. They put a sauna - we need an Orthodox gym. They built a gym, we need exercise equipment. We bought simulators, we need an Orthodox hotel. With conference room. Because guests from abroad poured in to gain Orthodox pastoral experience from the priest. They built an Orthodox hotel, an Orthodox airfield was needed. They built an airfield, launched several dozen 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, to survey the property, again, to ride guests.

True, some guests were severely swayed, for them - what you can't do for the sake of your neighbor - they dug a canal to the Moskva River, organized pilgrimage cruises and an Orthodox fleet. Only the water still came out slowly - where to go, they began to lay the Orthodox railway. But the road must also be protected from robbers, random people - they organized their own Orthodox army, with banners, a choir, everything that is necessary. Then the priest sees that it is time to become an Orthodox president, he thought, thought, but waved his hand. If also the president, there will be no time to serve, but I am still a priest, according to the order of Melchizedek. He never became president, he remained a father.

Visitation of God

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

It was here that the visitation of God happened to the priest. An old friend from school, Yasha Sokolov, came to see him. Sanctify the house for me, he says, well, I won’t remain in debt. The rector was not in the city that day, and he did not learn anything about this matter. They got into some good car and drove off. Suddenly they see a palace. With turrets, balconies, weathercocks, everything is as it should be. “This is my home and it is,” 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 father was surprised, but well, he began to consecrate the palace. After the consecration, Yasha clapped his hands - a table with an unprecedented treat, overseas wines, printed gingerbread, left the wall, clapped a second time - people entered, broad-shouldered guys, smart girls. “These are my friends,” Yasha explained and invited everyone to the table. Batiushka did not even know the name of many dishes, and he could not try many of them - they did not fit.

The father sees, Yasha seems to have relaxed, pours him and himself, of course, does not forget, father and ask him: “Where are you, Yasha, do you work?” Yasha laughs. And I couldn't stop for a long time. We, he says, are not supposed to work, it’s zapadlo, well, he understood in kind who we are? “No, I didn’t understand something,” the priest will not understand in any way. Yasha and tell him: “We are bandits, okay?” “Clearly,” the father was frightened. “But don’t worry, we won’t touch you, you are my sidekick and we can still do it.” Here Yasha generously paid off the father, nodded to the invisible servants, and they took the father home.

And from that incident, the father went from hand to hand: whom he will marry from Yasha's friends, whom he will baptize, whom he will again consecrate the castle, and whom he will rebuke 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, they also need a good education, well, and bought myself a brand new Skoda (only white, to make it look more modest, the abbot drove a Zhiguli). Soon, however, the rector was dismissed, our former third priest became the rector, but God knows, he was not looking for it, somehow it just happened. And the bandits? So what? Aren't they human? And to cut them off from the grace of God is a sin, there, you see, they will repent, like a righteous thief on the cross. So see you soon in the abodes of paradise!

One father could not do anything at all. He did not know how to repair the temple, and his temple stood for the fifth year in the forests. He didn’t know how to engage in bookselling smartly, knock out points, start a book business.

He did not know how to win back a clergyman's house, or at least 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, mobile phone, computer, e-mail, and even a pager. He did not have the gift of reasoning, the gift of wonderworking, the gift of clairvoyance, the gift of beautiful worship - he served in a quiet voice, so that if you stand far away, nothing could be heard. And what he didn’t have at all was the gift of the word, he mumbled sermons and repeated the same thing over and over again. His mother was not heard or seen, although he still had her, but they also had no children. So the father lived his life, and then he died. He was buried on a gloomy November day, and when people, according to custom, wanted to light candles, everyone's candles lit up themselves, and an unearthly light filled the temple.

One father was a cannibal. A man comes to him for confession, but does not return home. A young couple comes to get married and disappears forever. They bring the baby to be baptized - both the baby and the godparents disappear. And just the father ate them all. Only during the fasts everything was fine, people went to confession, were baptized, and unction without any disappearances. The Reverend, of course, knew about this father’s peculiarity, but he always said that there was no one to replace him, but how strictly a person keeps a post.

Tree of knowledge

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

They set off early in the morning, a day after the wedding, traveled by train for three hours, and then got out and walked. Grisha had all the churches marked on the map with one cross, and the monasteries with two. With a successful scenario, by the evening they were supposed to reach the first point - the Ascension Monastery. And so they walked along the road, sang prayers, read Jesus, then rested a little, ate a little, and went again. And by the evening I was very tired. Especially Tanya, who was terribly hungry, because two buns with spring water is still not enough for the whole day. Tanya said to Grisha: “Look, here are raspberries hanging over the fence, let's pick them?” Grisha, who was also hungry, but endured, eventually answered her: “It’s immediately obvious - a woman! If you lived in paradise, you would do exactly the same as Eve.”

How is that? - said Tanya.

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

I? Yes, for nothing. So Adam blamed everything then on a woman, but he himself!

Grisha just laughed.

If the Lord forbade me, I would not listen to any Eve.

Twilight descended on the earth. Tanya and Grisha were just approaching the new village. “Nikishkino!” Tanya read out loud. And Grisha looked at the map - and realized that they would not be in time for the monastery, which they had hoped to come to in the evening. At least it's light. And they decided to take a chance - to ask someone for the night, right here, in this Nikishkino.

In two places they were refused, and from the third house, an grandfather in a green flannelette shirt looked out and said: “Come in.” Tanya and Grisha were delighted! Especially since the grandfather nodded at the table, which was full of food, and ordered them to have dinner. But he began to gather himself somewhere.

Why don't you 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. Porridge, potatoes, the old woman cooked everything and went to her daughter today, to Kutomkino, she will not 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 never comes back. They put the kettle on, Tanya said: “I wish there were pies. With jam! My grandmother, when she baked pies, always put them in exactly the same aluminum pan.” And Grisha answers her: “But my grandmother used to leave pancakes in such a pan, only she would turn the pan into a blanket so that it would not cool down.” Tanya argued: “Well, what pancakes! Here are the pies. People are not rich, they don’t have vases, so they have to put them in a saucepan.” And Grisha to her: “I tell you, pancakes!” And Tanya: "Pies with jam." Here Grisha became completely angry and said: “Well, let's check it out.” They opened the saucepan, and from there - a mouse. Yurk! And ran under the table. Here comes the old man. And the cat along with him - rubs between the owner's legs, meows, clearly asks the animal to eat. The old man went to the windowsill, opened the pan, but only spread his hands.

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

Father Pavel

1. What was he like

Father Pavel was a sweetheart. Often shouted out “oh, infection!” and other obscene words. Sang folk songs. He told funny stories about himself. His education was “lower, one year”, as indicated in 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 almost did not go, they led him under the arms, the cell attendant Marya Petrovna on the right, the volunteers on the left. “In such a century - you will spin on your back and on your side!” - said the father. Some looked at him and cried - only he did not give, he began to joke.

2. Stop “Father Pavel”

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

3. Complex lunch

One day, Father Pavel, already old and half-blind, got into Big city. He served there together with one metropolitan. The Metropolitan gave Father Pavel money for the return trip, and they parted. There was still time before the train, and Father Pavel decided to have lunch.

He enters a cafe, and the girl behind the counter says to him:

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

And looks at his feet. And on the feet of Father Pavel - felt boots, when he left his village, there were frosts, and when he arrived in the city - a thaw set in, and puddles of mud flowed from the boots onto the floor. The father’s coat is also old, worn, and the suitcase in his hand is worn out, with a priestly vestment inside. The girl, apparently, decided that this was some kind of tramp. Father Paul is gone.

He comes to another cafe, more like a canteen, he is told: “We have set meals here!” “Well,” Father Pavel answers, “that’s good.” I put a suitcase at the foot of the table, took a tray, got a complex dinner on it - first, second and compote. I put dinner on my table, I was just about to eat - I forgot my spoon and fork! He went for a spoon with a fork, returns - and a man is sitting at his table and eating his first. Here's your set lunch. Father Pavel sat opposite and, without saying a word, began to eat his second meal. I ate the second one, put the bread in my pockets, and the compote was divided equally with that man.

The man gets up and walks towards the exit. Father Pavel casually glanced under the table - but there was no suitcase! That bastard stole it. I ate half of his lunch, and even carried away the suitcase. Father Pavel got up from the table, ran after the thief, suddenly looks - his suitcase is standing. Just at the other table. And lunch is untouched. Confused!!! And the men of that and a trace caught a cold. Here Father Pavel even had a headache - what a humble person he turned out to be, he didn’t say a word when Father Pavel ate half of his dinner!

Father Konstantin was a big entertainer. For this, everyone loved him. And they went to him for advice. So Pasha Yegorov decided to ask the priest what he should do. Four years ago, Pasha got married, married Great love, on Vika Kondratieva, from the information department. Vika was not that beautiful, but very slender, she held her head high and walked beautifully, with long legs in heeled shoes - in general, Pasha could not live without her. And even when he got married, he did not stop loving her, but only fell in love with her even more. And Vika, on the contrary, with Pasha at first seemed to be nothing, and she would cook dinner, and even hug, and then she began to get bored. And I was in no hurry to return home. Either he will be delayed somewhere with his girlfriend, then he will go to the store after work, because they are just like now, they have all become round-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 still hurt. The husband is sitting at home, but the wife does not show her nose! They started having scandals. And Vichka will hug him and say - I'm bored, dear, at home. At work, papers, and at home the kitchen and you. Boring. And Pasha to her - am I to you, or something, a clown to entertain you? Well, they fight again. And Pasha decided to turn to the priest, to whom he went four times a year, fasting, for confession, because our Pasha was a believer. Unlike his wife, by the way.

Father asked Pasha everything, but while he was asking, he yawned twice, because Pasha told various details in such detail that the father answered him: “I see. She thinks you're a bore. But we'll do it." And he told Pasha what to do.

And here again Vichka is delayed somewhere, returns home, rings the doorbell, but no one opens it. Ringing once and a third time - silence. She opens the door with her key - and Pashka's boots and jacket are here, in the corridor. So he's home! Vichka was a little worried. He takes off his shoes, goes into the room, and in the room you can’t breathe from the fumes, Pasha, drunk in smoke, is fast asleep on the floor and cigarette butts are lying around him on the carpet and empty bottles. And I must say that before that, Pasha did not take drunkenness in his mouth and tried smoking only once, in the sixth grade, but has since quit. 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 headlong to the floor and snored.

But Vichka nevertheless pushed him aside and began to demand an explanation.

My love! I got drunk with grief, ”Pasha explained to her with a slurred tongue, all the while grinning stupidly. - Because you're not there and you're not. And I can't live without you.

Here Pasha picked up a cigarette butt from the floor and began to look for matches.

Why are you throwing cigarette butts on 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 cigarette butts, swept out the ashes, took out the bottles (one from Zhigulevsky, two Nevsky and Stolichnaya), closed the door to the room. And she herself sat down in the kitchen to watch TV - they were just showing “ female look” Oksana Pushkina, Vika's favorite program.

The next morning, Pasha apologized terribly to Vika, kissed her hands, begged for forgiveness and kept repeating that it was him from grief. Vika forgave him and told all the girls in her information department how her husband loves her. But a few days later, Olya Motina called her to a sale, the Kopeyka store was going bankrupt or something else and arranged a sale of electrical appliances at unbelievable prices. Yesterday Motina already bought a mixer there, and today she also wants a juicer - yesterday she simply did not have enough money. And Vichka just needed a new iron. She returns home with a box - Pasha is drunk again. True, he lies not on the floor, but in an armchair, and cigarette butts float 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 to become interested - it turned out that he knew how to get drunk and smoke. Again, there is something to tell girlfriends at work.

Only the miracle is not at all in this. The miracle is that none of the observant neighbors ever 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 he put empty bottles in another bag.

Never in his life did Father Konstantin laugh like that.

Superman

One father was Superman. His grandmother calls him and says: “Father, the door closed, the key remained inside, I don’t know what to do.” Batiushka arrives, knocks down the door with his foot, fixes the lock, and leaves. The next day, two sisters call, they got hyped, they became businesswomen, but then the bandits ran over, threatening to burn everything. Batiushka immediately goes to a gangster gathering, chuckling, looks at the bulging pockets of the brothers, quickly explains everything to everyone, the brothers agree not to run over again, the father leaves. In the evening, after the service, a weeping mother approaches the priest - his son, a fourteen-year-old teenager, has disappeared, got in touch with a bad company, and did not spend the night at home for the second night. The priest calls up the right people, negotiates with the police, serves an akathist, and in the evening the policeman brings the boy home by the hand.

With the demoniac, the priest was also on a short footing. In the middle of the service, an abnormal woman enters the church, starts screaming something terribly, the priest leaves the altar, lifts the woman by her elbows, takes her out of the church, returns to the altar, and continues to serve. One grandfather almost died of starvation at home, everyone forgot about him - the priest remembered, fed, took communion, grandfather still lives. Another man's wife fell ill with cancer, he went to church for the first time in grief, stumbled upon a priest. Batiushka served a prayer service for three days in a row. A week later, my wife's cancer was gone. Doctors shouted, called her a malingerer, and she went home and laughed all over the street, not embarrassed by anyone. These stories have no end. The priest saved someone from despair, someone from death, someone helped to sort out relations with her husband, someone with his wife, he prayed for someone, and the next morning he was handed a warrant for a three-room apartment, about whom He prayed again, 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 changed his mind about throwing himself from the eighth floor.

And everywhere he went, preached, helped, consoled. Thus twenty-three years passed. Suddenly, something happened to the father. He did the same thing, came, took communion, but he could no longer comfort anyone, as if he had forgotten all the necessary words. That is, sometimes he even remembered and said the very words that he usually used in such cases, but it turned out dead. An amazing thing, people practically did not 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 mother saw : father is not the same.

But Batiushka barely spoke to them, and answered all the questions of his relatives briefly: “It’s just that I have already died.” Of course, they did not believe him: how did he die? And who is speaking to us now? And they didn't believe. However, the priest served less and less, 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. Doctors came, fed the priest with various pills, gave him a massage, cheered him up, and in general everyone understood: well, the man was tired. But the father was not tired, he lay down and died.

Father Mitrofan

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

How to kill? - the woman was amazed.

Suffocate with a pillow or add arsenic to the tea.

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

After that, they stopped complaining about those close to him.

2. To those who were going to have an abortion, the 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 lesser sin than abortion.”

Why smaller? - the expectant mother was surprised.

Check it out - you'll see.

But no one has checked.

Father Artemy

Father Artemy graduated from the Faculty of Philology of the Moscow state university named after the great Russian scientist and educator Mikhail Vasilyevich Lomonosov. As soon as the priest opened his mouth, silky grasses lay down on the ground, fragrant flowers bowed their heads, tall and strong trees dropped their fruits, the birds of heaven folded their wings and fell silent, not daring to continue their sweet, wonderful songs, forest animals, shaggy and tailed, stopped their hasty run, they sniffed the air and moved their ears in reverent bewilderment, the fish of the sea froze and only occasionally fluttered their tail and blew a bubble. People recorded Father's sermons on dictaphones, video cassettes, published his books in thousands of copies. Some were seduced and rubbed whiskey.

“It’s simple,” said one loving father Artemy, the servant of God, because of the great tension and his great employment, the father forgot all Russian words and uses Old Russian, because in Old Slavonic and Old Russian he had only fives at the university. And if you put an interpreter with the priest, everything will immediately become good. The priest will say, “We must remember that we must shake off the ashes of godlessness from our feet, and especially pride and pernicious conceit.” And this means that you need to stop sinning. See how simple it is! And there is 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, they look into the very soul, the eyebrows are black, curved, as they have painted, there is even nothing to say about eyelashes - half a face. Well, the hair is light blond, 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 fours simply for her unearthly beauty, only the informant (a single woman of 56 years old) resisted, and Asya did not want to retake and took the documents. She had so many admirers that she turned off her phone a long time ago and pulled her hat over her very eyes so that they would not see her. But the hat did not help either. She herself, of course, did not like anyone. All were some kind of goats. And she did not want to take money from them, for what reason. But she still wanted to live like a human being. Her parents were in another city, both no longer young, plus two sisters, in general, she had to rely on herself alone. Well, how can a decent girl make money? And Asya became a prostitute. She worked, of course, not on some Tverskaya, but in a small private guesthouse. And the money was insane. Asya herself appointed fees to clients, and there was no case for anyone to refuse her. The boarding house served wealthy people, verified, only by prior call, the use of drugs and excessive libations were not encouraged in it, in general, the girls lived there like in Christ's bosom.

So it would go, until one day in this cozy brothel uk did not come very strange man.

It was raining outside the window, 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 was standing on the threshold, water was dripping from an umbrella, the guest looked unhappy and wet, but even through the water it was clear: he did not look like local visitors at all. He looked about forty years old, he was very pale, his beard grew to the very waist, and water dripped 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 patted his beard thoroughly with a towel, and then opened the large black bag he had brought with him. From the bag he took out a long black robe, put on 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 hard golden cuffs with laces. And laced up the laces. Asya silently looked at him. The man turned out to be a pop. On all four walls, the priest drew a cross with a pencil.

Then he asked for a bowl 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 an armchair and listened to prayers - in addition to “Lord, have mercy”, she made out another strange repeated word, similar to a cough - “Zacchaeus”. Finally, quite quickly on the whole, the priest stopped reading, put the book back into his bag, the whisk with which he sprinkled water, took off his cassock, cross and bowed at Asya's feet. Asya jumped back. Of course, many knelt before her, but in a different way. And the man got up easily and was about to go.

What does all of this mean? Asya screamed.

Interesting? - this was the first thing that the bearded man finally uttered on his own, not from a book. At the same time, he smiled and looked at Asya, too, somehow not like everyone else. And his look struck Asya so much that she could not even properly answer. Because this look was very affectionate and did not want anything. And Asya was silent.

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

I will also go to you! Asya finally came to her senses and shrugged her shoulders.

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

After that day, Asya was replaced - she always wanted to see the bearded priest. It's too weird,' he looked. She barely waited for the day off, she was usually given Tuesday or Wednesday, the most unprofitable. And so Asya dressed more modestly, caught a taxi and ordered to be taken to the Kaluga Wall. The taxi brought her to the white wall of the monastery. Here Asya became a little scared, but, seeing that everyone who wants to enter through the open gates, she boldly headed forward. A monk stood at the gate, like a guard, Asya asked Father Luka, and soon the same bearded man, in a long cassock, a small black hat, without a cross, was already approaching Asya. Father Luca 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, as with an old acquaintance.

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 there's really nothing good about it! And I want another.

What?

For you to get me out of there.

Isn't it up to you alone?

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

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

You see, I 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 a long time, it longs for food, any, and if not divine, then earthly, carnal ... I went to you for what everyone comes there for, the demon of fornication severely 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 before my thoughts and fornication. I found the phone number of your house in the newspaper, the ad said that this place was for “well-meaning” people, and this made me laugh and I really liked it. And I, like a kind of “well-meaning monk,” phoned your mistress, found out the way.

I told the rector that I was called to another treb, to consecrate the apartment, this is customary with us - many of the brethren often leave for the city for trebs. To avert my eyes and complacency, I took with me my usual luggage, a bag with vestments and everything I needed. And went straight to the arms of the devil.

I wandered around the neighborhood for a long time and could not find your house in any way despite the instructions. It was raining, I was soaked to the skin and ready to run. It was as if the Lord Himself held me back until the very end. But having already decided to return with nothing, I finally stumbled upon the right place. Several times I passed this two-story mansion, sure that it was someone's beautiful office or bank, until I looked at the windows - white curtains in colorful butterflies. I realized that most likely I got just where I needed to be. I called, said the agreed phrase, they opened it 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 also the Lord. Any doubt in the existence of God and in His infinite mercy, His love for us, warming and all-merciful, completely left me. I felt that the Lord was near. For many months I was tormented by disbelief, despondency, longing, 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 said to myself, Father Luka continued. And he began to bless the room. And then he returned to the monastery. That's my whole story.

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

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 a hypocrite, a voluptuary and an apostate?

And 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 every lust completely leaves a person, he becomes inaccessible to sin.

How do you see our work? Is it a big sin?

Truly, this is more repugnant to God than any sin.

They talked like that for several hours. Asya did not return to the brothel. On the same day, Father Luka 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 Luka, 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 Lent, Asya was found in the forest near the monastery with a broken head. The killers were not found, while Father Luka, having received the sad news, could not recover from the shock for several days. He even went to the police, told about the house he once visited, but when he went to show where it is located, he never found it. The cozy mansion has definitely disappeared.

This story was told in a different way. Turning Asya to the path of truth and love, Father Luka could not resist her beauty and proposed to her. They soon got married. Father Luka took off his rank and cut 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 Luka had died without return, his relatives and children wept for him, until the Elder of the monastery once said at a meal, as if by the way: “Do not mourn for Borenka (Luke’s worldly name), he will remain alive.”

Mandelstam street

Deacon Grigory, a graduate of the Literary Institute, loved Pushkin with passion. Well, I just loved it. At the sermons that he was sometimes instructed to deliver, no, no, and he will screw in a rhyme or some quote from his favorite poet, he spoke about Onegin and Masha Mironova as if they were living people, and at night, after all the rules and bows, he will take a volume and reads a little and is sure to cry from emotion - he wrote very well, you son of a bitch. The brethren nicknamed Grigory - Pushkin.

But one day the deacon's father had a dream - a huge field, yellow and empty, apparently, they just squeezed the rye, rare spikelets lie on the boundary, and Alexander Sergeevich himself, curly-haired, agile, all so familiar and recognizable, and the wind blows the curls from the forehead. But at the same time, Pushkin is terribly sad. The deacon sat down.

Alexander Sergeevich, is that you?

Well, I, - answered Pushkin.

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

But Alexander Sergeevich said nothing about this and looked at him with even greater sadness.

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

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

But if not you, if not you, then who? - continued to exclaim the astonished father Gregory.

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

Then the father woke up.

Since then, he abandoned Pushkin, reads only Mandelstam and memorizes all of his collected works.

Good man

1. One priest was an unbeliever. He did everything as it should be, and tried very hard, but somehow he did not believe in God. In general, everyone knew about this, but they forgave him, but as before, if a communist, he does not necessarily believe in communism. Well, so is the father. The main thing is to be a good person.

2. One priest suffered from kleptomania. Either a golden cross will be pulled from the church, or just a ten from the deacon's pocket. Everyone knew about it in general, but they understood - well, a kleptomaniac. The main thing is to be a good person. Batiushka valued people's trust, and when the heap of stolen things at his house became too high, he put everything stolen in a big bag and distributed it to the poor on the porch. That's what a good person means.

3. One father did not like gays. But even more he did not like it when they told about some monks, or even someone taller, that they were generally all that in their monastery. Here this father darkened his face, looked at the interlocutor point-blank and said very clearly: “There are no blue fathers!” He got up, left the room, pulled the corner of his mouth, drank valocordin. But why bother getting on your nerves? The main thing is to be a good person.

Princess Frog

Once upon a time, Abbess Raisa lived in the world. Once she was a kind, good woman, but now she became abbess, and it was as if she was replaced. She did not love anyone else, did not make friends with anyone. The sisters lived badly with her, mournfully and painfully. But not everyone. Mother had close associates, the dean and the treasurer, somehow they knew how to please mother, although they took a lot from her. Worst of all were the lowered ones, those who had once been guilty of something, did not please the abbess, said across or bowed at the wrong time - mother Raisa hated them with fierce hatred and lived with the world as best she could. She ordered them not to send parcels and letters to them, did not let them go to the city to the doctors, set the sisters on them, forced them to perform men's work, carrying logs, chopping wood, did not allow them to go to the service until everything was done, and they did not visit the temple for months. And to each of their murmurings, one answer was: “Obedience is higher than fasting and prayer. Are you nuns or what?”

Some of these outcasts changed the monastery, some left home and, in an embittered heart, completely stopped going to church, others fell ill from overwork and remained disabled for life, while the fourth was forgiven by the mother. But it was very difficult to earn forgiveness. And so the monastic life flowed on, unknown to anyone, outwardly quiet and calm, until the novice Anna fell into the downtrodden. Here the hour of the will of God has come.

Anna was originally from St. Petersburg, worked as a physics teacher, and at thirty-two years of age she came to the monastery. She lived here for the third year, worked in various obediences, in Lately 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 attach her somewhere, maybe cut her hair and raise it, or maybe lower it and not cut her hair. And she called Abbess Anna to her.

So many years already in the monastery, and all the novice. Because you don’t have the right guidance,” the abbess explained to Anna. - I want to take care of you myself, and as your mother I want to hear what your thoughts are, what burdens your soul, what you have sinned. I'm listening.

Anna was silent.

I am listening,” the abbess repeated sternly.

Mother, I thank you for your care and maternal help, but last night I already confessed, and I told Father Andrei all my thoughts, all my sins, but I have not yet accumulated new thoughts ...

O foolish and unreasonable, o naive and senseless child! How did you respond to your boss? Was this how you should have spoken to your chief trustee about your stupid soul, who replaced your very own mother? You yourself have led yourself to death, with your false innocence (the mask of pride) and the ingenuousness of the answer, yourself!

Not accumulated? Not accumulated? Not accumulated? shouted the abbess 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'll learn from me. Tomorrow you will go to the barn.

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

The next day she went to the barn. And whatever. The cows fell in love with Anna as soon as she entered the barn, as they began to low in unison, as if greeting her, and the calves rushed to lick her hands and boots. Anna just laughed. So several months passed. Hard work did not seem to exhaust, but only amused her.

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

And she sent Anna to a construction site, a handyman. Anna again nothing. She carries cement in a bucket, her face is cheerful, as if she were in a rest home, and not at hard work. And even if she had a runny nose! No runny nose. Here the abbess persuaded her sister, in the past a physician who performed the obedience of 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 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 as if nothing had happened! And it began to torment mother Raisa terribly that she could not bring Anna to the same state as everyone else. The rest of the lowered ones still walked pale, exhausted, at the sight of mother they began to tremble and immediately fell to their knees, even in the mud, even in the snow. It was only by such earthly bows that one could earn her forgiveness - everyone knew that. And the best scammers came out of such forgiven ones.

Anna did not fall on her knees, 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 the mother that Anna spoke to them quite reasonably. 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 cannot complete the prosphora in any way, apparently, the demon takes them away from this holy work, does not allow them to complete the work, and the work is left there for several hours. I see that you are ascetic and will defeat the evil one - complete the prosphora. I give you until tomorrow morning. Can you do it?

Bless! - answered Anna, without objecting to her mother a word, although she could have objected: the prosphora had just begun to be built and construction projects remained there for at least two months!

God bless, - answered the mother and crossed the novice. If you don't build...

She did not finish, but it had long been rumored in the monastery that two nuns, especially not pleasing to mother, had disappeared somewhere. Relatives of the nuns raised a fuss, even the police came, but they did not find any traces. Mother said to her relatives: “Russia is big,” and the policemen simply stayed in her office for a short time and left. Since then, they have never visited the monastery.

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

More than ever, the abbess was angry with Anna.

Here's one more task for you, my dear, and after that I'll intercede with Vladyka about your tonsure. It is necessary to dig a new deep well, in the old one the water began to rot. Everything should be ready by the next morning, don't drink rotten water to the sisters, you understand!

Bless.

God bless.

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

Mother! The well is ready.

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

Witchcraft! Help the girl.

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

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

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

And now the sisters see - Anna got up in the middle of the field on her knees and began to pray fervently.

O All-Holy and Almighty Almighty! Do not leave me, grant me time to repent, do not let my soul perish... O beloved and sweetest Jesus, be merciful to me when I am weak, send me Your holy help, help me plant an apple orchard...

And immediately after these words, an unearthly light illuminated the night sky, the heavens opened, winged youths flew to the field, right hand each held a shovel, in the left a small sapling. The young men began to dig the earth and plant apple trees in it. And all this with some kind of angelic inhuman speed. In less than half an hour, the field was planted with thin seedlings. The sky darkened and it started to rain. A few minutes later, lightly watering 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, the garden blossomed. Anna continued to pray and weep bitterly.

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

It began to get light, and the winged youths suddenly disappeared, somehow disappeared into the air, the treasurer and the dean did not even have time to track this. Only one remained, 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 torments await her soul! Yes, before death, let him not forget to look into the cellar in a 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 only convey 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 turned black in the face, fell and died.

On the 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, unlocked the doors of the cellar, and the same sisters, who disappeared a year ago, came out of the dungeon, with singing and heavenly joy on their faces.

The treasurer and the dean fled unnoticed from the monastery, leaving the keys and leaving the cellars open. For several days the sisters rejoiced, having arranged for themselves a grand consolation at the meal. And then they got together and chose Anna as their boss. She ruled the monastery happily ever after.

Ballerina

Do you understand, father, - one novice said to the father, - something is boring for me in the monastery. But since the age of four I have been doing ballet, I almost became a ballerina, but when I went to the monastery, I threw away all my pointe shoes, and a tutu, and photographs in which I dance. Now, sometimes I just want to dance.

The father did not answer the novice, but a month later, on the day of the angel, he gave her a present - pink satin pointe shoes and a real tutu.

The novice was very happy, tried on pointe shoes, and they turned out to fit her.

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

But since then, the novice has lost the desire to dance. She never asked for the key to the hall, put her pointe shoes and a pack in a distant chest and did not think about them for many months. However, a year passed, and in the evening of her previous day of the angel (because she soon became a nun, and her name was changed), mother opened the lid, looked at the father's gifts, remembered his warmth and endless love and prayed for the repose of Hieromonk Andrian - the father had long been gone alive.

Inspirational stories to read in Sunday school

1. The story of the Orthodox hedgehog

In the roots of an old oak, an Orthodox hedgehog lived in his mink. And the squirrel upstairs in the hollow was non-Orthodox.

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

But I'm afraid of water, - answered the squirrel, cracking the nut loudly.

We must overcome fear.

But the squirrel could not comprehend the great benefit that her squirrel soul would receive after conversion 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:“ Thank God! Even the squirrel learned this easy prayer. The hedgehog taught her to make the sign of the cross with her paw and ordered her, clinging tightly to the branch with her tail, bow to the east. The squirrel agreed to make bows, 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. To the mink of a hedgehog, hiding in the roots of a tree with a hollow squirrel, flew Ladybug. On the head of the ladybug was tied a handkerchief with polka dots, in her hands she held a rosary of the same black peas, she looked very humble. The hedgehog told the cow about his fruitless attempts to persuade the squirrel to be baptized.

Since then, - said the ladybug, - as 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, squirrel, there is nothing sweeter than living in Christ and praying with the rosary.

But the squirrel didn't want to listen to anything, just jumped around, cracked nuts and giggled.

Looks like I figured it out! - the usually sedate and serious hedgehog jumped up suddenly.

A few days later he made a wonderful rosary. The hedgehog strung nuts on 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. All three - a hedgehog, a squirrel and a ladybug went to the river, which flowed not far from the strawberry meadow. All the way the squirrel trembled and wanted to return, but the hedgehog showed her a nut rosary, and the squirrel went forward.

Finally they reached their river. Ladybug volunteered to be godmother, and hedgehog 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, Ladybug agreed. - After all, she died Orthodox. God bless!

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

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 whites?

3) Act out the story in faces.

2. True repentance

Vitya Ivanov was a bad Christian. He did not obey teachers, did not teach lessons, offended girls, fought at breaks. He brought chewing gum, then a slingshot, then a straw to school and shot at everyone with chewed papers, and on New Year's Eve he brought firecrackers and blew them up right under the director's window. In general, Vitya was a bully. Despite the fact that he studied at an Orthodox gymnasium.

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

And what? Soon, Vitya's mother fell ill with cancer, then her sister became blind, then her grandmother was paralyzed and the house burned down, and Vitya himself, jumping up the stairs, broke his leg. 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, irrigating the pillow with bitter tears. At that very moment, his mother recovered, his sister regained his sight, his grandmother got out of bed and went, friends gave Vitya's mother a new house (they had an extra one), and Vitya's leg immediately grew together. The doctors just threw up their hands.

This is what it means, children, true repentance!

Questions and tasks after the text.

1) Why did Victor's mother get cancer, did her sister become blind, and why did her grandmother become paralyzed?

2) Was Viti'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 after the institute, and everything is past. And Zhenya had only two entertainments - to go to the theatrical premiere, because from childhood she loved the theater, well, to the church, because in her first year, Zhenya was baptized on a general upsurge. In church, Zhenya prayed for only one thing, once she 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 is not considered, 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 dinner together, but Zhenya still decided to stock up on blessings in order to react correctly at the right time. I didn’t stock up: “To live with an unbeliever is torment!” That's what her father told her.

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

Baby, pray to the Reverend, he will help.

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

Father Sergius! Beg me for an Orthodox fiance!

I lit a candle, listened to an akathist, and - on the train, home. And in the train opposite her, a young man is sitting, so beautiful! With a mustache, in a black uniform jacket. And occasionally looks at Zhenya. Zhenya blushed and writhed all over. And the young man suddenly says:

Are you coming from the Lavra?

Jenny just nodded silently.

And I study there.

Word for word, we got to know each other, it turned out that Alexei studied at the seminary, went home for the weekend, he did not enter it immediately after school, he still worked and served in the army, so he was suitable for Zhenya in age.

“This is what the prayer of St. Sergius means! This is what the intercession of a saint means! But 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 liked to talk about the salvation of the soul, the shrines of the Russian land, the Masonic conspiracy, he took Zhenya to services. Liturgy, Vespers, prayers. But, by the way, he didn’t make an offer, apparently, he looked closely, but for now, for training, he began to treat her like a future wife.

Told her how to dress - only a skirt and even a headscarf indoors! He scolded her when she ate a chocolate bar in fasting. He got angry when she timidly objected to him and said that she did not believe in a conspiracy. And when Zhenya suggested that he go to the theater, he rolled his eyes and screamed: devilry! Naked girls! Perverts! That's what your theater is.

And Zhenya thought - the groom is a little out of his mind. And she went to the theater alone, and as soon as Alyosha found out about this, he 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 myself a groom, an Orthodox, but he turned out to be not like that!”

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, you don’t even need an Orthodox one, just a good, normal person!

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

How long have we had lunch together?

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

Today Fomenko has a premiere, let's go for an extra ticket, what if we're lucky?

Zhenya agreed. And they began to go to theaters and cinemas, Vanya also turned out to be no stranger to art. He gave Zhenya flowers, took her occasionally to a cafe, held her by the hand, did not kiss, which Zhenya also really liked, sometimes they went to church and listened to how they 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, seeing Zhenya home, he said: “In short, I love you.”

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

Letter to the priest

For the glory of God

We are strangers, we ended up in Diveevo by the grace of God. And all Father Seraphim. When I read his life, I could not 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 sorrows. The local Diveevo priest, Father John, told me that this happens very often, with sorrows the Lord knocks on the hearts of people. Great grief for me was that Andryusha left me with little Seryozha. And I was very upset about it. Then I began to pray for the first time in my life that the Lord would return my husband to me, if possible. And, apparently, then God's mercy to me, a sinner, had already begun. Andryusha quickly left that woman, wandered a little more, nothing was heard of him for three months, and then returned. He even asked for my forgiveness. And I forgave him.

Sergei 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, why - no one could explain, and Lyuba, my neighbor in the stairwell, told me what my sins were. After all, I had an abortion even before Serezha, we lived then in the same room with Andryushin's grandmother, grandmother, God rest her, was after a stroke, Right side she did not move, she was bedridden and screamed at night. Nobody needed a child in such conditions. I didn’t even have doubts then, I didn’t know that they were alive there, in their mother’s womb, already with a soul, and I didn’t think at all, a worm and a worm. But Lyuba told me that abortion is a terrible sin, and now you have to pay for it all your life. And then I also learned that in no case should you say “thank you” or “please” - you must answer: “To the glory of God.”

When the miscarriage happened, I seemed to die, I already understood that my living child had died, and not a worm, and I did not 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 that God would comfort me, I lay there alone, covered in blood, I could not get up from terrible weakness, and no one, neither the nurse nor Andryusha, came to me, because Andryusha was already killing himself alone. Sergei. Two of my neighbors were generally after the operation and did not get up. If my mother had been alive, she would have come to me, but she died after a heart operation before Serezha was born. And I lay alone. The Lord helped me get up and go to the toilet, but on the way back in the corridor I already fell, two women called the nurse, and they brought me to the bed. I fell successfully, not a single scratch, only minor bruises. So everything was thanks to 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 seized 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 read only “The Life of St. Seraphim” and a little of the Gospel. In the church, I bought several more books - “How to Prepare for Confession”, “What a Mother Needs to Know”, “On Prayer” and “Lives of Russian Saints”.

When I read the life of Xenia of Petersburg, I realized that I live incorrectly, according to the laws of the flesh and the world. And I realized that I was ready to give up my whole former life, if only to resemble the holy and blessed Xenia with my little finger. As soon as I understood this, I felt that it was Ksenia who would now be my patroness and assistant. Although my name is Olga, not Xenia at all. We lived then in Kazakhstan, in Astana, but I told Andryusha that I must definitely go to St. Petersburg. Andryusha said that he would no longer sit with Serezha, but I simply forgot to tell him that I was going, of course, 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 blessed Saint Xenyushka of Petersburg. On the train, I told Serezha how Ksenyushka helped people and how she lived, and Serezha listened very carefully. We had a wonderful trip, although not without temptations. On the way, my wallet was stolen from me, we talked on the train with one woman, who looked very pleasant, she talked a lot about herself, treated us with her products and even fruit drinks. And when we woke up the next morning, the woman was no longer there, she left earlier, and something pushed me, I immediately climbed to check the 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 for alms, because the chapel does not have extra funds. But I did not count on these funds, and stood at the entrance, and Serezha 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 prayed incessantly to Blessed Ksenyushka. Then a woman came up to me, who was selling candles and books in the chapel, and said that the priest had blessed us to dine in the refectory. Serezha and I had a very tasty meal, everything was blessed, lit by the blessed, Serezha ate with pleasure. We collected a lot of money for the whole day, enough for about half a ticket. And I thought that tomorrow we would collect the rest, because it was already getting dark, but we had to spend the night somewhere else. 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. We did just that. We settled down quite well, on a long bench, after prayers Seryozha fell asleep almost immediately, I also sometimes passed out. It was then that a great miracle happened to me. I saw a dream. Some large church, with black domes, and around the nuns in black cassocks go 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 bell ringer sister in the upper span of the bell tower. I also went with the sisters, entered the temple, spacious and bright, and immediately saw the 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 Seryozha, we read the morning rule together and again went to the chapel. Maria, God save her, treated us even better than before, immediately took us to eat, asked questions 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 must have been some kind of nunnery.

We safely returned home with Seryozha, only our dad, while we were gone, committed a terrible crime against the Church and God. My entire red corner, with icons, with a vial of oil from the relics of the healer Panteleimon, with a jar of holy water, was ruined. All icons have disappeared. What did you do Andrew? I was the only one who could ask him. The husband replied that he would not tolerate anything like that in his house anymore, there was nothing to fool him and the child, and in vain he let us go. It was like a bucket ice water on a hot day.

A few days later, Andryusha left, began to ask for forgiveness, but it was clear to me that if he did not accept baptism and did not believe in the Savior, we would not have God's blessing to live on. I answered 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, she 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 go to the doctor again, because I began to have very difficult mental conditions and an arrhythmia was diagnosed. But even in this external and internal battle, the Lord reinforced me with unheard-of joy, one woman brought me to read a thick book “Chronicle of the Seraphim-Diveevo Monastery”. Every evening, after putting Seryozha to bed, I read this wonderful book. Toward the end, between the pages, there was a calendar with a view of the church, which seemed familiar to me. When I looked more closely, I realized that this is the same church that I saw at the station in a dream! On reverse side The calendar card read: “Trinity Cathedral of the Seraphim-Diveevo Monastery. Modern look". I cried and prayed all night. God! Andryusha and I were divorced by that time, I was finally free, Blessed Xenia 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 she did. Father John from Diveevo told me that this is all my pride, but I don’t even think that I can be like Blessed Xenia, I just wanted to imitate her at least in some way. And the priest from Astana, father Valery, told me that there is no big sin in this. I even think, although it is probably bold, the Lord Himself put in my heart the 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. I got my paperwork done the next day! Thank God, the buyer was found very quickly. I gave part of the money received for the apartment to Andryusha, hoping to fulfill the commandment of God about love and reconcile with him before leaving, but Andryusha did not even want to talk to me, and I acted through his mother. And we distributed the rest of the amount with Serezha to our churches and simply to the poor. To do this, we traveled to all the churches of our city and left only for a ticket to Diveevo. Serezha was very happy. He himself took these unnecessary papers from me and gave them to poor people. How they thanked us, how they bowed! Some even cried. I couldn't stop crying either. My old life was ending before my eyes. And such joy seized the soul, such weightlessness, when I closed my eyes, it seemed to me that now I would take off. Glory to Thee, God! Glory to you, blessed Xenia! Glory to you, Reverend Seraphim!

I still had furniture and things in the apartment, a lot of my old clothes. I called all my friends and gave away everything I had in a week. Many were surprised and did not want to take it, they tried to persuade me, but as best I could I convinced them, explained that I would no longer need anything from the past. Only Serezha was sorry to say goodbye to some of his toys, but it was a temptation of the enemy, because we won’t take anything with us to heaven! Seryozha still left himself soldiers and a toy jeep, and on the advice of my spiritual father, Father Valery, I did not interfere with this, I only said 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 is very light. And we went to the fourth lot of the Mother of God, to where, as the Reverend said, both Jerusalem and Athos.

We arrived in Arzamas early in the morning, on May 16, it turned out that we still had to go to Diveevo 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, in total we found three of them. I prayed to all the saints, to the Mother of God, and Seryozha also prayed at my request. Since Andryusha and I broke up, he has matured a lot. But it was time to go to Diveevo. It got dark somehow quickly, but we did not find a lodging for the night in Arzamas. Asked a few people on the street and in the church, but no one had a seat.

We left Arzamas, ate bread, and then it became completely dark, we stumbled upon some kind of long wooden fence, found a hillock and a tree, and so on the hillock and spent the night. Seryozha gathered branches, we lit a small fire and warmed ourselves, I prayed all the time to the Monk Seraphim and Blessed Xenia, who endured much greater labors and colds. And in the morning the Lord vouchsafed us to witness a miracle - all our tree, it was a poplar, blossomed during the night, turned into small green leaves. The only one in the whole area, the rest of the poplars around were still bare. Seryozha said that it was from our fire that the poplar got warm, but the fire, of course, had nothing to do with it. It was a clear blessing of God on our path. God bless! The Mother of God interceded and saved us. After a cold night and sleeping outside, we didn't even get sick. And all through the prayers of the blessed and Reverend. Early in the morning we were already approaching Diveev. When I saw that same church with black domes from my dream, I cried so much that Seryozha even got scared. The service has already begun in the church, we defended the liturgy, bowed to the relics of the Reverend, listened to the akathist. One sister came up to us and asked: "Are you pilgrims?" “No, mother, we are not pilgrims, we are forever.” Again, I couldn't stop crying. The sister advised us to approach the abbess and ask for a blessing for life in Diveevo.

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 in a small village house belonging to the monastery for the time being. When we settled there, it was still not tidied up at all, not inhabited, people had not lived in this house for many years. Glass was broken in two windows, and I'm not talking about dirt. Many who came to us said that even in the open air it is better to live. Because we still somehow smelled bad. But these were all temptations, is it not a miracle that on the very first day we, homeless wanderers, received a real house as a gift! In addition, over time, all the bad smells disappeared, it was just rotten rags and vegetables in the pantry, I took everything out, cleaned it out, it became much better. At first we warmed ourselves from the electric battery, but in winter it was still cold, and in the very frost we were allowed to spend the night in the temple, there was heating. But all these problems and temptations are already behind us, now, by the grace of God, we have a stove, glass windows, and even running 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 drunken husband. Svetlana looks after Serezha when I am obedient. My mother died, but blessed Xenia sent him, as it were, a new grandmother. I work on obedience every day, and Serezha often helps me, but he gets tired quickly. He turned eight two weeks ago. Of course, I don’t give it to school, at first the mother nuns persuaded me, and I even went to talk with 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 it. His soul is still untouched, pure for the prayers of the Virgin, he does not read worldly books, he knows all the prayers by heart, and what can be seen on TV, except for debauchery and demons? The main thing, Seryozhenka, is a repentant heart, and the rest will follow, you'll see. He also plays with the guys without school, there are many of them, both local and those who come to the Reverend to pray. My Seryozha’s mothers were very fond of, 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 money is not supposed to be paid for obedience, but if they offer, I don’t take it so as not to lose heavenly reward. And 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 be restored in Sarov, become a hieromonk, well, but I’ll stay here, under Father Seraphim, until the last times, maybe they will accept me among the sisters in time, and if it comes to tonsure, I’ll ask to be tonsured in honor of Blessed Xenia of Petersburg. But, of course, it is still too early to talk about it, my Diveyevo spiritual father, Father John, says that while Seryozha is small, there is nothing to even dream of monasticism. And yet, sinful, I dream. But even then, thank God that we live here, on such holy land, next to the relics of the great saint. It’s not scary in Diveevo, the Antichrist will reign everywhere, but the Diveevo groove, along which the Mother of God passed with her holy feet, he cannot jump over. So Father Seraphim himself prophesied.

Reverend Father Seraphim! Pray to God for us.

funny miracle

Passionate stake stood in the throat. The black wind blew out my eyes. And I close them so as not to be blind and not to see, because it is no longer possible to see. Shut up and freeze. I can’t stand such dazzlingly sunny, transitional, windy days, mid-April, and still snow, ice and this blinding, sick sun ...

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

I was driving a car and mentally smoked all the time, without stopping, one after another, opening the window, letting the smoke out into the street. She 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 with greed - it was their smoke, tasteless, nasty, alien.

But I still got sick of it, as they like to say in the church, temptation, terribly tired, and I asked you in confession, remember? Can I smoke one, just one cigarette? Just to end the obsession? Let it be a loss, but it will end at last! You said with a smile: “I forbid the power of God given to me.” And I, as always, as if playing the same role that had long been stuck in my teeth: “I’ll violate it anyway.” And you restrainedly: "Try". And I thought again: damn, how few words a person spends, but how much it comes out. How little it hurts me already, in general, it doesn’t hurt much in life, and this, thank God, the words of this person still hurt me a little. And I rejoiced. So I didn't try it. But Dima left. It always affects me in the same way: what freedom immediately, Lord, when for some reason it suddenly ceases to put pressure on the shoulders (the cross of marriage, or what?), But right next to freedom, melancholy grew. Unbearable. So at least it was possible to talk with Dimka, just so that he would listen, and in general already by zeros - emptiness. Because children are not filling, but in a different way. And again this desire rose, now sharper, now softer, only something was too lazy to go and buy cigarettes. A kind of lethargy seized me when it really came to the point. I didn’t know which ones are better, which ones are tastier.

That morning I left the house to fix the car. For once, she put her in a shell, because her 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 janitor Sasha of an intelligent appearance for 50 rubles, he knocked the ice off the doors for me, and I drove in, locked it, but, apparently, quite already 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 her with my foot so that no rubbish was lying near my shell, thin long white cigarettes fanned out of the pack. It was fate.

When I smoked for the last time, such beautiful and white ones did not yet exist in nature. We smoked Bulgarian BTs and considered it a great happiness. Once I tried Marlboro and thought - why are they all so praised? I was 16 years old. I almost can't remember that time, it seems nothing good. And then I didn’t smoke so much, and most importantly, it was terribly picturesque, even when alone, showing off anyway, look how I suffer. Then it ended, because the church did not encourage smoking. It was easy for me to quit, I didn’t get used to it. But this, probably, is like the ordeal of blessed Theodora, which, they say, we will all go through after death - any sin leaves a trace in the soul, and you must account for any. Since I once smoked, it means that this has not disappeared, and now we need to really overcome it. But the fact of the matter is, 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 nowhere mention smoking. Yes, little. Compared to suicide, for example, is smoking a sin or not a sin? And then now I'll finally try, and that's it, and I'll calm down. I picked up the scattered cigarettes from the snow, two pieces, but one had already managed to get a little wet, and I left myself another, dry one. I sniffed it, it smelled great of a good cigarette. She held it with her lips a little.

She drove the car, closed the shell, drove off the hillock 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. She took it out, looked: instead of a fiery spiral - a quiet grayness. Does not work! Yes, I'm going to repair, now I'll tell the guys, and that's it. But I told the masters about the doors for so long that the matter somehow didn’t reach the cigarette lighter. I just forgot about him. And when I returned for the car back, it was already uncomfortable. Although, maybe it's one second - to fix the cigarette lighter in the car. And the cigarette lay between the seats, under the handbrake. And what about matches, or what, there are no matches in the city? Or maybe they stopped selling gas lighters? But I had to hurry home, let go of my mother, who was sitting with the children, and it’s stupid to somehow stop for matches, then maybe I’ll bring it from home tomorrow. I even thought of smoking at home, but there are children, no buzz - no, you need to in the car.

Slamming the door, I once again looked at my last hope under the handbrake and went, cheerful, home. It was clearly a manic phase. The evening went well. Only twice I screamed, which, in principle, is very little, only once I threw the children's saucepan on the floor, and the handle immediately flew off it. That is, in general, they can’t do anything humanly - made in China, it’s called! 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. Again, perhaps, magnetic storms? And after four runs, at three nights, I thought that if I didn’t fall asleep immediately and Petya didn’t stop screaming, I would die. And I began to pray: “Lord, I promise you never, never smoke, I promise tomorrow, as soon as I open the car, I will throw out this cigarette, just let me sleep. Put Petya to sleep so that he does not scream, and I would also sleep. And I'm sorry." Petya immediately fell silent, I don’t know why or not, but the next time we met only in the morning.

After breakfast, the three of us gathered for a walk, dressed and went downstairs. It was necessary to get a little to Neskuchny. I opened the car, started it up, the car moved through the yard, a dove soared right from under the wheel. And then I remembered: throw it away! Quicker! But there was no cigarette. Nowhere. Here, here she was lying 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, Liza, didn't 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, they didn’t have time, we just started. Where did she go then? God, didn't you believe me and took that cigarette out of here yourself? But I would honestly throw it away, and if it's a miracle, then thank you. The miracle was funny. Father! That's all.

Father Misail

1. Father Misail met with Anna Akhmatova, was a wonderful storyteller, talker and wrote down different stories about fathers - documentaries, very funny. Then these stories came out as a book, then reprints began to come out. Readers sent responses of thanks to Father Misail, 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 is as if he is 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. "What it is?" Father Misail cried out in horror and slammed the book shut. But even from the cover, one of his familiar priests threatened him with his finger, while again completely naked, saying menacingly: “Do not expose the nakedness of your father.”

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

I heard that you, Mrs. Kucherskaya, write libelous things about the priests, - Father Misail said after a short and generally affectionate introduction. And even read them. At times funny, but more often sad.

The coachman was silent in trembling. 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 for you, mother, to take up the birth of children. I don’t have such an opportunity, otherwise, by God, I would quit writing and start nursing kids ... But you, don’t forget: childbearing is much more saving than writing.

Kucherskaya marveled at such attention to herself and pastoral care, and from surprise she began to give birth to children - one after another. But on the second, things got stuck. And there’s nothing to be done about it: either children or priests, so she again began to write her fables about shepherds.

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

And now the children are in the kindergarten, and she writes all day long, rereads her stories aloud, beats her sides, laughs, jumps, and at times cries bitterly.

Books with LISA NOVIKOVA

Maya Kucherskaya. Modern patericon. Moscow: Time, 2004

In "Modern Patericon" by Maya Kucherskaya there is a story about a kind priest who, while serving in New York, takes great care of his parishioners. He serves with large reductions so that people do not run away: "They are gentle, American here." Maya Kucherskaya herself also compiled such a small prose collection for reading in a sparing mode. That is, for those who, for example, do not have time to delve into Leskov's prose and understand "The Trifles of Bishop's Life." So give digests sooner, the texts are more restrained, impartial, not too wordy and not too moralizing. Moreover, the reader of Maya Kucherskaya lives in completely different times: after Leskov, Kharms happened here, and then also writing father Mikhail Ardov and father Andrei Kuraev. In addition, some readers are not so easily surprised. Because they already have everything, and family, and work, and faith, and hope, and sex, "and even icons at work hang on computers." For such unpleasant people in the "Modern Patericon" there is also materialchik.

Small stories, fairy tales, anecdotes, episodes, or even brief maxims are distributed here in cycles: "Reading for those who have tasted the sweetness of the true faith", "Reading for those who have fallen into despondency", "Reading for Orthodox parents". Plots and about sinners, and about the righteous have accumulated enough. Here one monk fell into despondency because he ate too much chocolate, but the other priest was generally a cannibal, he ate parishioners regularly, except that he only observed fasting.
And what cases happened in women's monasteries (this section is called “Reading at night in a women's monastery”, and is somewhat reminiscent of evenings of black humor in a pioneer camp)! For example, the heroines of the story "Poor-Quality Products", two novices-girlfriends became sad and decided to quietly buy two bottles of vodka at the local grocery store. But the bottles turned out to be ordinary water, and even the second expedition to the store gave the same result. The girls were touched and repented: "Since then, both have vowed never to take alcohol in their mouths. And they have been holding on for three months." That's what miracles sometimes happen!

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

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

The gift of joy is the joy of the gift
The publishing house "Vremya" published "Modern Patericon" by Maya Kucherskaya
There lived a girl. This is how you can start any story, unless, of course, this story is about a married lady, a widow or a man. This is how Maya Kucherskaya begins the story "The Writer", with which "Reading for those who have tasted the sweetness of the true faith in recent times" opens. True, this cycle in her "Modern Patericon" is the second number, skipping ahead "Reading in the Advent of the Nativity". Which is logical, since the reader must move from the Nativity Fast to Easter, when the heroes of Kucherskaya - smart and stupid, young and old, cheerful and strict, fasting and not fasting, priests and laity - answered the joyful message of the priest “with a single exhalation and thunder: “Truly resurrection!” And the little boy Gosha, who was sitting on the neck of one very serious dad, shouted: “Hurrah!”. And growled into my father's bald head, as if he were a terrible tiger. Everything is correct (as they say, the composition is thought out), but I want to start the conversation with the "Writer".
If Kucherskaya looked like this very writer, I would never have mentioned her. Neither at the beginning of the review, nor at the end. Because there would be no reviews. Yes, the book itself. Because that girl, first converted to the true faith by her beloved, and then abandoned by him (the young poet left for Switzerland, to relatives, to an eternal settlement), of course, wrote prose (“in a small genre - stories, short stories, essays, rarely, when he composes a story”), but did not print. Batiushka did not give a blessing - he was talented, they say, but without the “right direction”. As a result, the girl began to yearn for her porter even more, to compose worse (or maybe she just didn’t like the previously favored editor - it also happens) and decided that she was missing something. “Maybe self-realization, maybe fame, maybe children ... Well, that's it. Drowned in the Moscow River ...
Dear brothers and sisters! What do we conclude from this story? The girl was mentally deranged."
And the other girl (now husband's wife) was normal. And therefore she wrote many stories, articles, notes and dissertations. And the wonderful book that, you guessed it, I'm trying to tell. Not only did she write it, but she also took it to Znamya magazine, which at a brisk pace published a fair amount of Modern Patericon in the first issue of 2004, and also to the Vremya publishing house. Which is no worse than the aforementioned magazine, and therefore also did not hit the face in the dirt - it quickly released "Modern Patericon". Designed by Valery Kalnynsh, with a foreword by Sergei Chuprinin (chief editor of the friendly Znamya) and, most surprisingly, with texts by Maya Kucherskaya.
Paterik is a collection of stories about the deeds of the glorious fathers. Kucherskaya writes a lot about priests (priests and monks) and with a special feeling. But not only about them. First, why are women's monasteries worse than men's? But not to look for a special word for stories about nuns? ("Mainland" is clearly not good.) Secondly, a lot of interesting things happen to the parishioners too. Funny, bitter, joyful, enlightening the soul. As one of the most touching and wise heroes of the patericon, Father Pavel, liked to repeat: "The people are not the servant of the priest, but the priest is the servant of the people." He, a former prisoner who had served in the village church for thirty-three years, knew what he was talking about.
Probably, there will be readers who will find other stories of Kucherskaya blasphemous. How so: one priest is a businessman, another is friends with bandits, the third is a cannibal at all (but he keeps his post strictly). There will be those who will be indignant for other reasons. How so: a talented artist left the stage for the sake of the temple, and she rejoices! He writes about miracles. In our enlightened age! Dear brothers and sisters! What do we conclude from this story? Abnormal (stupid, hysterical, blinkered, devoid of taste and tact) are both church people and those who stand behind the church fence. But there are many more normal ones.
This is what Maya Kucherskaya is talking about. Laughing, crying. Now mourning, now rejoicing. Pairing miracles with everyday life. Remembering that the instructions of the wise elders are inseparable from their life feat. And about the fact that, according to the words of Father Mikhey, “there is no need to reinvent the wheel” and “you cannot believe through your teeth.” Giving joy to those who can receive it, and rejoicing in your gift.
19/03/04
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