Unpleasant stories about life in the monastery. Taiga monk. Unusual events in the monastery and lively stories about the brightest and strangest people. Wilderness near the Kremlin

© Andrey Ivanov, 2017

ISBN 978-5-4474-5808-9

Created with the intelligent publishing system Ridero

I dedicate this new collection of selected novels and stories to my dear and beloved

Grandmother Valentina Dmitrievna and mother Adelia Alekseevna. Also to my spiritual father and wise Orthodox mentor, Abbot Hieromonk Seraphim (Tarabykin).

My Orthodox spiritual father hegumen Father Seraphim. Author's photo

Prodigal Imp Luck

Tale

This story, like all the stories from my cycle "MONK", is based on real events from the life of the inhabitants of a modern Orthodox monastery. The old-timers of that distant, taiga Siberian village and the monks remember this story well to this day.

Although this drama took place almost thirty years ago, at the very beginning of the dashing 90s.

The names in the story have been changed, except for the name of the narrator, that is, me. Due to the fact that the heroes of the story can easily recognize themselves here, and I have no right to disclose their true names and the name of the monastery.

And it’s not so important for the reader, I’m sure what the names of the heroes of the story are. Much more important is its tragic content and the very spiritual essence.

“27 You have heard what the ancients said: Do not commit adultery.

28 But I tell you that everyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart.

29 But if your right eye offends you, pluck it out and throw it away from you, for it is better for you that one of your members perish, and not your whole body be cast into hell.

30 And if your right hand offends you, cut it off and throw it away from you, for it is better for you that one of your members perish, and not your whole body be cast into hell.”

GOSPEL (NEW TESTAMENT) Matthew's holy gospel

Have you read about the last cry of the crucified Jesus on the cross, before leaving his earthly body?

– Eloi! Eloi! L amma sawahfani

At that time I had not yet lived in a monastery. I don’t remember who brought this story from there, either visiting pilgrims, or priests told.

I was still young then, my memory preserved clearly and distinctly all the details of their stories.

I, at that time, was 28 years old. I served as superintendent of the Theological Seminary at the main Cathedral. It was necessary to keep order in the dormitory of the seminarians, and to keep an eye on them at school and in their free time.

It was then that I heard about this incident from monastic life.

Aleksey, an ordinary Soviet boy, was drafted into the Army in the late 80s.

He ended up in the elite troops of the Airborne Forces (airborne), in the assault brigade. The most physically strong, tall and not stupid guys were selected there. Resolute and fearless thugs were prepared from them, teaching actions in the most difficult and extreme conditions of a training battle.

Toward the end of the paratroopers' service, another parachute jump awaited, nothing unusual, ordinary service. Nothing foreshadowed any surprises or trouble. Everything has long been familiar, worked out to automatism.

However, just before landing, Alexei's opened parachute got into a strong wind. And the experienced paratrooper was suddenly carried not to the ground, but along it. Just ten meters from the rocky surface.

At such a speed, neither a helmet, nor experience, nothing would have saved, the guy would have simply been crushed when he hit the stones.

My heart was pounding. And his lips whispered:

- Lord, save, Lord, have mercy!

And then a miracle happened. The wind died down, Alexei smoothly sank to the ground. But his strength left him.

It was necessary to urgently get rid of the parachute and run into a training attack, along with comrades. But the shock has not yet passed. There was a temporary dullness, the mind could not believe in salvation from inevitable death.

The deputy who ran up the brigade commander lightly slapped the paratrooper on the cheeks a couple of times. Alexey woke up and began to look around in a dazed way, coming to his senses.

It so happened that this was the last jump of Alexei. After demobilization, he decided not to go home, he was drawn to the monastery. The human soul is dark. No one knows the motives for this act, except for Lyosha himself. Maybe after that salvation he wanted to serve his Savior in some way. Or maybe something has changed in his young, shocked by that incident, psyche. I will not guess.

Arriving at the monastery, the guy asked for obedience, and was appointed a stoker in the temple. His duties included lighting the stove, making sure that the church was always warm. Like everyone else, Lyosha became an ordinary novice, prayed, read Holy Scripture, lived modestly and laconic.

The autumn of 1990 was cold. The young stoker often went out to the monastery courtyard for coal and firewood. In breaks he read the Gospel or dozed off. The temple was warm, quiet, calm. Ordinary northern night. Everyone in the monastery is asleep, tired of the day's work and unceasing prayers.

One stoker could not sleep. He was sitting on a bench by the stove, rocking slowly from side to side, holding his head in both hands. He was again tormented by the prodigal demon.

Despite the lenten monastic food, the guy had young blood. He began to exhaust himself, eat less, sleep less, chop wood to the point of exhaustion. But neither malnutrition, nor labor, nor prayer, nor frequent confession and communion could completely rid Alexei of lust. The body groaned. Thoughts were confused and led into passionate pictures of fornication.

Young novices and nuns seemed desirable to the guy. And he couldn't do anything about it.

Tonight was driving him especially crazy. The reproductive organ rebelled, and bright and passionate pictures of copulation rose before the mind. His young and strong body begged for satisfaction. The guy constantly confessed to the priest in the sin of masturbation, but the desire for self-satisfaction tormented him more and more. Alexey grabbed the Gospel and randomly opened it to the first page that came across.

“But I tell you that everyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart.

But if your right eye offends you, pluck it out and throw it away from you, for it is better for you that one of your members perish, and not your whole body be cast into hell.

And if your right hand offends you, cut it off and throw it away from you, for it is better for you that one of your members perish, and not your whole body be cast into hell.”

- Here's the way out! Here is salvation! whispered thoughts.

The guy groped for an ax under his feet and somehow beside himself, swaying, headed for the exit of their temple. Here is the chock on which he usually chop wood. Crossed himself.

- Lord, forgive, have mercy and bless. He raised his eyes to the sky. The sky was darkly silent. Only the moon and stars looked indifferently at Alexei's torment.

The novice, as if delirious, slowly lowered his trousers. The insurgent took out, tormenting his genitals. He posted it on the chock. A weak but decisive swing of an ax sharpened to a shine. Instant flash of bright sparks before the eyes. Pain shock. Alex lost consciousness.

When he woke up, a terrible pain shackled not only his body. But also all his Soul and mind.

It seemed that the whole sky with stars was falling on Alexei. There is an unbearable rumble, laughter, howl in the ears. The entire universe collapsed. The temple tilted and began to lean on the tortured body of the novice. He wanted to scream, but he couldn't. Lips moved soundlessly. Only a faint groan and steam escaped from his open mouth.

Crazed with pain and horror, all wet with blood and tears, the guy was found already in the morning by the first nuns who got up. Alexei lay on a pile of firewood and groaned softly. He held his bleeding crotch with his hands. How he didn't die of blood loss, only God knows.

In early winter, the ferry no longer runs across the river, and the ice is still not strong. It will take a very long time to get help. The local doctor could not help. Just said:

“We need urgent surgery in the city. We need a lot of donated blood. You need to call a helicopter. There is no other way out.

Alex survived. The operation went through. How successful, I don't know.

After a long treatment, Lyosha was discharged from the city hospital. He did not return to the monastery.

I first saw him sitting on a bench in the churchyard, near the seminary. I don't know why, but I've always been interested in strange people. I wanted to go up and talk to the guy. Especially since I already knew his story.

- Good afternoon, Alexey. - I sat next to him.

He turned his head slightly to my side. Absolutely incomprehensible, empty eyes with a slight shadow of indifferent surprise looked at me without blinking.

Lord have mercy! Lord have mercy! - That's all that Lyosha's lips whispered to me in response.

He got up from the bench and hurried away from me. I saw him wandering aimlessly in the courtyard of the cathedral, or eating in the refectory for another week or so. Then he went somewhere and I never saw him again.

A year later, I was told that Alexei got a job somewhere as a personal security guard. Married. It means that he has not lost the skills he got in the Army. A bodyguard for some rich businessman. The main thing is for the guy to come true, everything that he so dreamed of.

I know many ways to leave the holy abode. I can tell many stories from my own experience. Demons take someone away from monasteries through the desire to have a family, work, money, children. Someone does not sit in one place and is drawn to a change of place. There are many cases and they are all different. Someone, having chosen the monastic path, remains on it forever. But there are even more of those who break down under demonic temptations, the pressure of the devil and, leaving holy places, return to worldly everyday life. Returns to passions, to the vanity of the world, to sin.

– Eloi! Eloi! L amma sawahfani? - My God! My God! Why did you leave me?

There are many cases and they are all different. How many people, so many different destinies. Difficult, tragic, happy, dramatic, successful. Thank God for everything!!!

Someone, having chosen the monastic path, remains on it forever. But there are even more of those who break down under demonic temptations, the pressure of the devil and, leaving holy places, return to worldly life. Returns to passions, to the vanity of the world, to sin. Or just to everyday life, like everyone else. Yes! There are many cases. And they are all different. Everyone can write about. Everyone and everyone has a complicated, interesting destiny Life. But more on that in future stories.

Monk
A cycle of stories about modern life in an Orthodox monastery

Names of the Lord

Story one

Thanks to my future readers. Photo from the personal archive of the author.

Mail in the village was usually brought to the monastery before dinner. Either the father hegumen himself picked it up at the department, or the elderly fat postwoman brought it.

Letters, telegrams, postal notifications were piled up in the church on the counter of the church shop. And those who relied on it themselves sorted it out when they entered the temple. Today the postman brought it, a rather vigorous woman of about 55. She said that there was an urgent telegram, and asked to call the person for whom it was intended.

There were 8 men standing near the counter. One young monk, Father Demetrius, is tall, stately, handsome, with slightly guilty or sad eyes. Two novices, one came from the kitchen, the other from the garage. And five builders, among whom was myself.

The novice Theodore, who helped cook in the kitchen, took the telegram, looked at it and said that the telegram was for Vadim, who had moved from the monastery a month ago to live and work in the skete on Voloka. But how do you get it there? Go there or on skis for four hours or on a snowmobile. There is no snowmobile in the monastery. There are also practically no roads. 5 km along the trail of hunters, and then generally solid snow.

Winter road to Volok, to the hermitage of Orthodox hermits.

And, besides, it gets dark early, and the frost is over thirty.

The telegram reported that Vadim's mother, who had fallen ill, lived in the city. In general, there were no people willing to take the telegram to the skete on foot.

After some thought, I decided to go and get dressed warmly and deliver this urgent message to Volok.

The very name Volok used to define the settlement, either the convicts, or those of the peasants who, in ancient times, dragged the trunks of cedars and pines to the sawmill to the rafting river. Now the whole Volok consisted of a couple of log houses, a barn and a corral for cattle.

Several people lived there. Of those who, even outside the walls of the monastery, seemed to live vainly and noisily. They took the abbot's blessing and went even further into the taiga wilderness.

Grandmother Varvara, an old nun, ran the entire economy of the skete. There was no electricity in the skete. Long winter evenings burned oil lamps and candles.

We ate very simply. Much poorer than in the refectory of the monastery. If there was no fast, then they consumed the fish that was found here, in the canal, both in summer and winter. But mostly cereals, bread, vegetables and potatoes.

Now it was quiet and very silent. All three, not counting the nun Varvara, were novices. Vadim, 27 years old, a gray-haired bearded man Anatoly, 55 years old, and the youngest of all Dima, 20 years old, who could not quit smoking in a monastery, and for this he went to humble himself in a skete.

It was about one in the afternoon when I left the gates of the monastery and moved towards the skete...

He walked briskly and cheerfully through the cold, crunching his felt boots in the snow, humming a prayer...

There was almost no wind. Only the frost got stronger. Or maybe it was the lunch calories that were already eroding out of me along the way.

Two hours later he turned up the collar of his padded jacket and pulled his earflaps tighter over his head. However, it got noticeably colder.

About an hour later, it was time to turn off the path and stomp, falling through the virgin snow. Less and less came across the ski tracks of hunters passing here ...

White silence of the Siberian taiga. Photo from the personal archive of the author.

Then it started to get dark. North of the Tomsk region, in winter the day is very short. And twilight changes the visible area beyond recognition.

Suddenly, disturbing thoughts began to creep into my head. Did you suddenly get lost? What if I freeze here? After all, no one will find until the morning, and maybe longer. What if there are wolves?

It became uncomfortable. And then he fell waist-deep into a snow pit. I row with my hands, take out one leg, the other is buried in the snow. Such a soft snow swamp.

Started to pray. Started to freeze. I continue to rake the snowdrift with my hands and feel tired. I want to relax, rest, I want to drink, but I eat snow, but it does not quench my thirst. Hot sweat is streaming from the face, and the hands and feet are cold and cold ...

Suddenly a thought strikes. But I decided of my own free will to go to the skete. I did not take the blessing of the abbot. It was my pride that dragged me down. In my heart I condemned the guys that no one volunteered to carry the telegram. And I, such a "hero", moved alone through the winter forest ...

It became even more filthy in the Soul, fear and despair now settled somewhere in the solar plexus and ached stronger than hunger and thirst...

And then something flipped in my mind. All around is silence, white silence, darkness and coldness.

And I suddenly felt calm, or rather indifferent. Somewhere the fear disappeared, anxiety and panic went away. I thought. Well, I'll fall asleep, well, I'll freeze, so what? What am I? The first or last fool in the world?

I really got tired of eating and drinking. Somehow it even became warmer and more relaxed, there was only one desire left - just to fall asleep.

Out of habit, I thanked the Lord for such a quiet and painless death. He smiled, an unbidden tear rolled down his unshaven cheek. I didn't feel sorry for myself. I felt sorry for the mother. My mother and Vadim's mother...

Through a viscous drowsiness, I heard some kind of crackling ... It is not clear what it was ... Maybe the clubfoot wanders through the forest, awake or awakened by hunters in a den. Or the branch broke from frost. There was neither the strength nor the desire to get out of the snowdrift. I noticed in myself that fear appeared again. Falling asleep and freezing is one thing, but sitting helplessly in the snow up to the waist and watching how they would tear and gnaw me now was completely scary.

The distant crackling turned into a continuous noise. But it was still unclear what it was... Suddenly I saw a thin strip of flickering light.

The dull mind figured it out. They are snowmobile hunters. They probably return to the village or to the hunting lodge for the winter quarters ...

Heard, picked up, taken to the monastery. Nobody there was surprised. They flooded a bathhouse in one of the houses.

St. Nicholas Monastery in winter. Photo from the personal archive of the author.

They soared me, soldered me with tea, fed me with honey. The abbot brought moonshine from somewhere. After the bath, they wiped my body dry and rubbed alcohol into it.

It got hot. But instead of sleep came thoughts. Luck, coincidence, salvation, chance - all these are also names of God. It means that fate did not allow me to stupidly fall asleep in the forest and end my earthly Path on this.

I didn't send the telegram. Vadim himself found out about it when he came to the monastery two days later. Came on skis, smartly. He did not thank me for trying to tell him earlier about his mother's illness. He just came to my hostel of builders and said quietly - Well, you are a fool, Andryukha. Not a brave and kind sympathetic hero, but a complete round fool.

I said nothing. He was right.

What is really my life?

Story two

I was helped in this matter by the study of my personal feelings, thoughts and sensations.

So. To the point of the issue.

What are all people striving for?

What is real and what is an illusion?

How to get what you want faster and at a lower cost?

These are the questions we will now explore and try to answer them honestly, without emotions and impartially.

I love looking at the water. On the ice floes that importantly float past me. To the ice drift. The crackling of hulks colliding foreheads, some kind of clapping, squelching, and all this war is past, past, past ... This spring is powerfully moving its eternal laws.

Spring is in my soul too. There is no one around, except for living, floating ice floes. Although no, behind him, somewhere far away, a dog barked.

I am sitting on a rusty barge, tightly tied to the shore with chains for the winter. It's already cold. From the river pulls wet freshness. So you can easily forgive. But I don't want to leave. Once a week, on Sunday afternoon, I come here. I am sitting on an old bench, someone kind put it on a barge. Just looking…

Spring ice drift on the river. Photo from the personal archive of the author.

I have been living in a monastery for about three years. I watch myself, I am silent, I pray. I'm not bored.

For some reason, I remembered the story of the priest-priest that this place is holy. Here, during the civil war, barges with holds filled with living people were sunk in the middle of the huge Siberian river. The White Guards.

Therefore, the earth is here, and the water, and even the air itself is holy from the suffering and horrors of a stupid cruel war.

That is why they chose a place to build a monastery here.

How interesting fate leads me. And what am I doing here? In this taiga village. Among the forests, far from civilization, family... Why am I here?

Then it's all right...

At three o'clock in the morning, an early milk cart brought me home. Good driver caught. Drove from the suburbs to the city center. Didn't even take the money.

Behind my shoulders is a heavy backpack full of groceries… I bring gifts home, I returned on business trips… I haven’t been home for three months. There is a wife, a little son is sleeping in a crib ... I miss you very much ... And I am very tired without my beloved, without a family ...

I look at the windows of my apartment. Strange ... The light is on. Three o'clock in the morning... What is it? Is the child sick? Something happened?

I warned you that I couldn't come tonight. I didn't know that I would come.

I look at the freshly fallen snow at the entrance. There are no traces of people or wheels. So the ambulance didn't come. What's at home?

My heart beat faster, my breathing became erratic and uneven.

Went up to the fifth floor. I got up in front of the door to catch my breath, I call ...

It seems that they didn’t really wait for me ... I didn’t spend a month, but they meet me as if I went for bread for half an hour ...

An unpleasant chill on the back and anxiety settles in the solar plexus ...

He looked into the room, in the semi-darkness under the night light, in the crib his son was sleeping peacefully ... Everything is in order ... Why did I get so excited? Where does this nasty anxiety in the stomach come from?

I go into the kitchen. It's smoky, familiar people are sitting, guys, girls, drinking beer, strumming the guitar. Three o'clock at night. Everything is okay.

I remember how my wife met me from the first two long business trips. She ran along the platform of the station, happy, disheveled, flew into my hands with a flourish and we kissed ... So it was the first two times ...

And now... That's where the anxiety and this lump in the stomach come from... Something has changed... Something is no longer the same as before...

It did not help ... I did not believe in the possibility of treason. I realized that there was no way to stop the cooling. Do not warm up the feeling that was at the beginning. Or maybe he wasn't. His head was spinning, he yearned, asked, gave flowers, saw with horror the expanding crack in the family.

Everything, like everyone else. There were nightly conversations, showdowns. This only exacerbated the process of our discord.

Whenever possible, the wife ran away for coffee to her friends. It was a shame that he himself introduced them so that she would not be so lonely while I was on business trips.

When I was at home, I read books, was silent, took care of the child. I just became a money earner, furniture, she was bored with me alone.

It was unbearable to see. The silence was unbearable. I started drinking after work. linger. She didn't scold, didn't argue. She just kept silent. It was a complete collapse of love and family.

"Confessions of a former novice" was written by Maria Kikot not for publication, and not even so much for readers, but primarily for herself, with therapeutic purposes. But the story instantly resonated in the Orthodox Runet and, as many have noted, produced the effect of a bomb.

The story of a girl who lived for several years in one of the famous Russian women's monasteries, and her confession made a revolution in the minds of many people. The book is written in the first person and is devoted to, perhaps, the most closed topic - life in a modern monastery. It contains many interesting observations, discussions about monasticism and the similarity of church structures with a sect. But our attention was drawn to the chapter dedicated to those who went to the monastery ... and took their children with them.

Maria Kikot in her book "Confessions of a former novice" describes life in the monastery without embellishment, leaving the reader the right to draw conclusions on their own

“Since the rise for us was at 7, and not at 5 in the morning, like the sisters of the monastery, we were not supposed to have any rest during the day, we could sit and rest only at the table during the meal, which lasted 20-30 minutes.

All day the pilgrims had to be in obedience, that is, to do what the sister specially assigned to them says. This sister's name was novice Kharitina, and she was the second person in the monastery - after Mother Kosma - with whom I had a chance to communicate. Invariably polite, with very pleasant manners, with us she was always somehow deliberately cheerful and even cheerful, but on her pale gray face with dark circles around the eyes, fatigue and even exhaustion were read. It was rare to see any emotion on her face, except for the same half-smile all the time.

Mothers of children who grow up in a monastery shelter are in a special position. They only have three hours of rest per week, on Sunday.

Kharitina gave us tasks that needed to be washed and cleaned, provided us with rags and everything necessary for cleaning, made sure that we were busy all the time. Her clothes were rather strange: a faded gray-blue skirt, so old as if it had been worn for an eternity, an equally dilapidated shirt of an incomprehensible style with holes in it, and a gray scarf that must have once been black. She was the eldest in the "nursery", that is, she was responsible for the guest and children's refectories, where they fed the children of the monastery shelter, guests, and also arranged holidays. Kharitina was constantly doing something, running around, delivering food, washing dishes, serving guests, helping pilgrims herself, together with the cook and the taverna.

Children in the shelter "Otrada" live on full board, study, in addition to basic school disciplines, music, dance, acting

She lived right in the kitchen, in a small room, like a kennel, located outside the front door. In the same closet, next to the folding sofa, where she slept at night, without undressing, curled up like an animal, various valuable kitchen items were stored in boxes and all the keys were kept.

Later I learned that Kharitina was a “mother”, that is, not a sister of the monastery, but rather something like a slave working off her huge unpaid debt in the monastery. There were quite a lot of "mums" in the monastery, about half of all the sisters of the monastery.

"Moms" are women with children whom their confessors have blessed for monastic deeds. Therefore, they came here, to St. Nicholas Chernoostrovsky Monastery, where there is an orphanage "Otrada" and an Orthodox gymnasium right within the walls of the monastery. Children here live on a full board basis in a separate building of the orphanage, they study, in addition to basic school disciplines, music, dance, and acting. Although the orphanage is considered an orphanage, almost a third of the children in it are by no means orphans, but children with "mothers".

"Moms" are in a special account with Abbess Nikolai. They work on the most difficult obediences (cowshed, kitchen, cleaning) and, like the rest of the sisters, do not have an hour of rest per day, that is, they work from 7 in the morning until 11–12 at night without rest, the monastic prayer rule is also replaced by obedience ( job). They attend Liturgy in the church only on Sundays. Sunday is the only day when they are allowed 3 hours of free time during the day to communicate with the child or rest. Some of them live in the shelter not one, but two, one “mother” even had three children. At meetings, Mother often said to this: “You must work for two. We are raising your child. Don't be ungrateful!"

Kharitina had a daughter, Anastasia, at the orphanage, very small, then she was about one and a half to two years old. I don’t know her story, in the monastery the sisters are forbidden to talk about their life “in the world”, I don’t know how Kharitina got into the monastery with such a small child. I don't even know her real name. From one sister, I heard about unhappy love, a failed family life, and the blessing of Elder Vlasy on monasticism.

“Moms” get the hardest work and are constantly reminded that they must work for two - for themselves and the child

Most of the "mothers" got here just like that, with the blessing of the elder of the Borovsky monastery Vlasiy or the elder of the Optina Hermitage Iliy (Nozdrin). These women were not special, many had both housing and good jobs before the monastery, some had higher education, they just ended up here at a difficult period in their lives. All day long, these "mothers" worked on difficult obediences, paying with their health, while the children were raised by strangers in the barracks of an orphanage.

Shelter "Joy" at the St. Nicholas Chernoostrovsky Monastery. At least a third of the pupils in it are not orphans at all

On big holidays, when our Metropolitan of Kaluga and Borovsk Kliment (Kapalin), or other important guests, came to the monastery, Kharitina's little daughter in a beautiful dress was brought to them, photographed, she sang songs and danced with two other little girls. Plump, curly, healthy, she caused universal tenderness.

Often "mothers" were punished in case of bad behavior of their daughters. This blackmail lasted until the moment when the children grew up and left the orphanage, then the monastic or monastic vows of the “mother” became possible.

Abbess forbade Kharitina to often communicate with her daughter: according to her, this distracted her from work, and besides, the other children could envy.

The stories of all these "mothers" have always caused me outrage. Rarely, these were some dysfunctional mothers who had to take their children to an orphanage.

Alcoholics, drug addicts and homeless people are not accepted into monasteries. As a rule, these were ordinary women with housing and work, many with higher education, who did not have a family life with "dads" and on this basis went roof in the direction of religion.

But after all, confessors and elders exist just to guide people on the right path, simply to "set people's brains". But it turns out the opposite: a woman who has children, imagining herself a future nun and ascetic, goes to such a confessor, and instead of explaining to her that her feat consists in raising children, he blesses her to the monastery. Or, even worse, insists on such a blessing, explaining that it is difficult to be saved in the world.

Then they say that this woman voluntarily chose this path. What does "voluntarily" mean? We don't say that people who got into sects got there voluntarily? Here this voluntariness is very conditional. You can praise the shelters at the monasteries as much as you like, but in fact they are all the same orphanages, like barracks or prisons with small prisoners who see nothing but four walls.

How can you send a child there who has a mother? Orphans from ordinary orphanages can be adopted, taken into a foster family or under guardianship, especially small ones, they are in the databases for adoption. Children from monastic shelters are deprived of this hope - they are not in any base. How can you generally bless women with children in monasteries? Why is there no legislation that would prohibit unfortunate confessors and elders from doing this, while abbesses, like Nikolai’s mother, exploit them with pleasure? A few years ago, some rule came out that forbade the tonsure or monastic vows of novices whose children were under 18 years old. But it didn't change anything."

Paradise inside the monastery

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About the almshouse

Story 1. They don't know what they are doing...

O late in the evening, in a state half asleep from fatigue, the novice novice entered the cell of the old nun Irina to pour oil into the lamp. Mother Irina slept, snoring. The lamp hung high. The novice didn't get it. She put the jug of oil on the floor, pulled herself up, took the lamp from the pendant, put it on the table, and poured the oil. She put the jug on the floor again, pulled herself up, and put the lamp back in its place. I took the pitcher and left.
.
2 weeks have passed.
The novice sat in the cell of mother Irina and read to her the Psalter, before which mother Irina was a great hunter. Suddenly mother Irina, looking at the floor, frowned and said sternly, even rudely:

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“Here, they go around here, only they dirty the floor. Look, daughter, do you see the oil on the floor? Get dirty get dirty - and wipe laziness.
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The novice looked at the floor and nodded her head in agreement: yes, they say, here are the lazybones ... The nun looked at her frowningly and asked:
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“Daughter, wasn’t that you?”
- No, mother Irinushka, not me. I would certainly have wiped it, - the novice sincerely denied.
“Are you sure you aren’t?” the nun frowned even more sternly.
- No, no, not me.
- Exactly!?
- Exactly. Not me.
“Well, if it’s not you, it’s not you either,” the old woman concluded happily, “and peacefully began to listen to the continuation of the psalm.
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The novice went out of her grandmother's cell into the almshouse corridor - and then she was burned with shame. Suddenly, frames floated before her - how she, tired, half asleep, enters m. Irina's cell, puts a jug of oil on the floor ...
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- So it's me! she thought with horror. - Yes, and she lied. And mother something perspicacious! She snored herself - and she herself, through a dream, saw everything.
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The novice remembered how delighted her grandmother was when she learned that she sincerely did not realize her sin. And she understood: So she also needs to learn to rejoice at other people's sins - if they don’t realize, don’t remember, don’t know, then they’re not to blame! THEY DONT KNOW WHAT THEY ARE DOING! Glory to Thee, Lord, glory to Thee!

Story 2. And I love everyone...

O Once a novice was spoon-feeding the schematress Seraphim. And behind her back, the nun was talking to nun Kirilla:

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- Kirillushka, pray for my son Igor!
- I won't! Kirill's Mother replied rudely.
Why don't you want to pray for him? Pray!
- I won't! Kirill's mother snapped.
- Why?! - He is unbelieving and unbaptized.
- Well, pray!
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Five minutes later, the nun, with the help of a laborer, began to put the old Cyril to bed. In their hearts they threw her on the bed so that the old bones slammed loudly against the mattress. The novice was indignant in her soul. But the nun was the head of the almshouse - and a novice aboutshe was silent, because in this monastery it was strictly forbidden to violate seniority.
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The next morning, Kirill's mother, as if nothing had happened, affectionately called the nun to her:
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- Tanechka! That girl!
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The novice, who was once again spoon-feeding breakfast to her schema-maiden Seraphim and standing with her back to her mother Kirilla, thought with great surprise:

- It must be! Yesterday she slapped it in her heart on the bed—and this one is now humming her so affectionately!
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The novice only silently thought this to herself - and Kirill's mother suddenly called her:
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— Olya! Come here! The novice came up.
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- Olya, I love everyone! .. - The almost blind eyes of Kirillushka's mother shone in the sun, like two blue springs.
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History 3. Arithmetic of the blessed

E it was the first day of the novice in the almshouse.

In the morning, before breakfast, the sisters taught her how to feed the grandmothers with an afternoon snack and dinner, when the rest of the almshouse sisters went to church.

Grandmothers left buns and bagels for an afternoon snack - a total of 6 pieces. And there were six grandmothers to sit at the table. Each was supposed to want more - a bagel or a bun.

The novice joyfully prepared to take care of the suffering and the weak. After all, she even specially chose the monastery, in which there was an almshouse.

The first to roll in a wheelchair, turning the wheel rims herself, was the old nun Irina. And immediately asked the novice:

- Daughter, give me a bagel!

She helpfully submitted.

Grandmother ate it instantly and says:

- Daughter! And give me another bagel!

The novice hesitantly gave, realizing that someone would break the bagel in half.

- Daughter, daughter! Give me another bagel! - the nun looked inquisitively into the eyes of the novice.

- Oh wow! thought the novice. - She's already had two - and give her more! What can I give to others? - But she could not refuse the old man and gave the third, last bagel, already without any hope that she would be able to feed the rest of the grandmothers.

The nun bit off a piece of a bagel - and how she coughed! .. She choked.And immediately she wailed plaintively:

- Oh, Irina! Someone must have taken pity on you for the bagel! If you, Irina, would receive a pension, you would give the girl 20 kopecks, send the girl to the store, she would buy you a rye bread, you would treat the girl and eat it yourself.

The novice realized that all this was about her and for her! She felt herself blush all over; that her grandmother read all her thoughts - and she was talking about an old man - “cracked” - said!She shamefacedly asked for forgiveness.

The rest of the walking nuns of the almshouse began to converge. And it turned out that no one else needed bagels. Grandmothers ate - as the chicks pecked, porridge, grated beets and went to their cells.

And the novice realized that she had ended up in some special place, where everything is at God's discretion and where one does not have to think, but only has to obey, these meek and affectionate old women.

She then did just that. If the older sister said one thing, and the grandmother another, the novice obeyed the grandmother. The sisters were offended by her for this, but she lived like cheese in butter, she did not know grief, there was peace in her soul: because she obeyed not the arguments of the earthly limited mind, but God's will emanating from these blessed old women.

Story 4. Psalter

P the disobedient habitually gathered walking grandmothers for breakfast. Nun Irina, as always, was in no hurry to get into her carriage. As soon as the door opened, she handed the book to the novice who looked in: “Daughter, read the Psalter!”

- Once, mother Irinushka! Let's get together for breakfast, and then read. You get ready for now, and I'll call the rest.

A minute later she was again with Irina's mother. - Ma-at Irinushka! Are you not ready yet? There the elder is in a hurry. Let's go to! I'll take Anna Fedorovna now - and I'll come for you. Good?

In the corridor she met the eldest in the almshouse: - Well, what? Mother Irina, as always, is not coming? Are you going to read to her now?

- Well, here's more! I really need her! the novice waved her hand diplomatically, and thought to herself: “Of course, I will read it. Breakfast isn't going anywhere.

Five minutes later she approached the nun's cell. She pushed the door - but there it was! The door was locked from the inside and, judging by the strange noise, some activity was going on there.

The novice opened the door with difficulty.

The door was propped up from the inside with a bedside table, and mother Irina was sweeping the fluff scattered everywhere with a broom. There was a torn pillow on the bed.

“Lord Jesus Christ, the Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner,” the novice continued aloud, trying to preserve her inner peace in order to find prayer ...

Mother Irinushka grumbled, frowning:

- There are all sorts of people walking around here, only one garbage from them!Then she lifted her smiling, pleading face:- Daughter! Or maybe you read it?

And they habitually settled down on the nun's old bed and began to read.

A week later, the novice met mother Irina in a wheelchair in the corridor. She was sad, almost crying.

- Mother Irinushka, what are you doing?

“No one needs you, Irina,” Mother Irina lamented readily. “Here, some people say: “Here it is! I really need her!”

The novice realized that they were standing in the very place in the corridor where she casually threw these words to the senior in obedience a week ago!

“Yes…” she thought, “with every word you will justify yourself, and with every word you will be condemned…

Story 5. Bread lamp

AT the almshouse was blessed for obedience by a nonresident forty-five-year-old woman from the world. Her face was haggard. During the 18 days of her stay in the monastery, she did not eat a single piece of bread and even drank very little. It was obvious that she was in grief. She immediately clung to grandmothers, especially to monastics. Not immediately, but still, she told the almshouse sisters about her misfortune.
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Her son served on the ship. He worked in the kitchen and witnessed that the commander and his associates resell part of the products, and put the proceeds in their own pocket. He accused the commander of theft. As a result, as she said, the commander imprisoned her son, having stipulated. When the ship was in the captain's hometown, his six-year-old daughter came to see him. The girl walked around the cabins. The children kindly accepted her, treated her with sweets. The commander, allegedly, slandered her son, raising a terrible slander against him: that the son and his friends had corrupted this six-year-old girl. For this, the son was under investigation and he faces a long term. She asked grandmothers and sisters to pray for her son.
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Cyril's mother, who somehow struck the novice with her boundless love for the offenders, saying: “But I love everyone!” - prayed for the unfortunate mother and her son. A week later, after fervent prayers, she ordered the novice to bring the unfortunate mother of her imprisoned son. In the former life of the ninety-four-year-old mother of Kirilla, there was a tragedy of her own.
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She was born in 1912. Since childhood, I wanted to go to the monastery, but the famine of the late 20s. made your parentsgive her in marriage. Reconciled. But then tragedy began in her family life. Her first-born, one-year-old son fell off the bench, where she put him for a minute, moving to the stove. The baby fell, hit his temple and died instantly. A girl was born. And she only lived to the age of 16. Mother left for a few days. The girl, happy after graduation, returned home and went to bed without closing the window. A drunken company of village boys climbed in through the window. All six abused her. The girl went to the barn and hanged herself. (Neighbors of Kirill's mother, who came to visit her in the almshouse, told about this). After this loss, Cyril's mother devoted herself to the temple - she was an altar girl. Then she was tonsured a monk. Kirill's mother always asked the sisters to remember her daughter.

When the novice brought the visitor, Kirill's mother in an authoritative voice ordered her to kneel before Kazanskaya and said:

- Pray, Anna, with these words: "Lord, have mercy on my foolish child!" And I will pray for him!

Tears flowed from all three: from Kirill's mother, from the unfortunate mother, and from the novice. Each was crying for herself. The novice realized the full spiritual height of the old nun. The one whose daughter was taken away by six rapists took upon herself the feat of begging for the same rapist. Once she said, “a foolish child,” it means that the Lord has revealed everything to her.

Several years have passed. The former novice, who had already become a nun, by God's providence met with that visitor. Anna behaved in a completely different way: at the meal in the monastery she ate everything offered, talked a lot about her son, thanked the grandmothers of the almshouse for their holy prayers. Her son in prison behaved in an exemplary manner and, having not served his term, was released. In one only he violated the prison rules. Despite all the prohibitions of the authorities, every time a home-made lamp was taken away from him, he sculpted a new one from bread and lit it in front of the icon. Altared in the prison church. Anna thought: "For the holy prayers of mother Cyril."

6.Two stories

PRAYED!

B the nursery sister put the grandmother to rest in the fresh air in front of the temple in the sun. Comes for her in two hours. Grandma has a huge bag of bananas on her lap.

- Natalyushka, what is it with you?

- Here! On the! Let everyone pray! (So ​​someone donated to the almshouse).

The sister sees a bunch of banana peels under the stroller.

- And what's that?

“And I already prayed.

BLACK PORRIDGE

P the disobedient lived in the pilgrimage, not yet being enrolled in the nuns. And she carried obedience in the almshouse. Once a new one was placed in the pilgrimage. She was acting strange. Mirskaya wore a rosary longer than that of her sisters. At the same time, she always went around in everything defiantly white, unlike the rest of the pilgrims who try to dress more modestly in the monastery. She was mostly silent. Her gaze was fixed, not lagging behind.

One night, the novice suddenly felt a neighbor tugging at her rosary, trying to break it. The novice put on the rosary so that two crosses formed on her hand - on the palm and on the back. The novice's hand hung from the bed, and the beds were almost close.

- Oh well. Let's. Go, get out of here, - the novice threatened without malice and immediately fell asleep.

In the morning, after the rule before the obedience, the pilgrim in white, for no reason at all, began to affectionately treat the novice with sweets. The novice did not want to take it. But she had only recently come from the world and retained worldly ideas of good breeding. She obediently, in front of the one who treated him, ate.

As soon as she reached the almshouse, she realized that she would spend the whole morning in the toilet. She had severe nausea and rumbling in her stomach. She immediately ran into the "institution". In short dashes between the morning washing of grandmothers and the toilet, she spent 2 hours. When she had already begun to understand that it seemed she would need a doctor, suddenly the bells of the grandmother from one cell rang sharply: schema-nun Seraphimushka and nun Kirillushka.

The novice ran up to them. Serafima finished her porridge, Kirilla was already sitting on the bed, resting after the meal. Seraphim gave a cup of half-eaten porridge to the novice:

- Olya, eat a spoonful, I don’t want to anymore.

Overcoming nausea from sweets and from not being used to eating from someone else's plate, the novice ate a spoonful of porridge.Kirillushka from her bunk inhaled:

- I want to ku-u-sha-at. Give me entoy! Black porridge!

Automatically ignoring the natural thought - "I just ate - and give it to her again," the novice quickly fulfilled the grandmother's obedience and mixed buckwheat with mushrooms with a blender, gave her a spoon. She ate with pleasure and said:

“Now you eat.”

The novice fulfilled this obedience as well. Rumbling in the stomach and nausea right there! stopped.

- You are my grandmothers, priceless! she thought with happy tears.

Story 7. Ilintina

At the novices' mother passed away. She learned that her mother was dying just before she went to read the preparatory psalm at the service of Hieromartyr Hilarion (Troitsky), her especially revered saint. She read a psalm, and tears filled her eyes. In words: “This serpent, you created it, curse him” - she could no longer read - tears choked.

The novice went to the monastery 3 years ago when her mother suffered a hemorrhagic stroke. When in March, signing her a letter of recommendation to the abbess, the spiritual father warned:

- Look! .. I'm signing a letter for you, but you know: now the most difficult temptations will begin for you! .. - there is no turning back; this is Judas sin.

She didn't expect it to be so serious. But 3 days later my mother had a stroke. … There was no turning back. Mom remained under the supervision of 2 novice sisters. Still, there was a strong temptation to stay to care for the seriously ill, dearest person. The novice did not do this, she kept herself from apostasy. And the father supported:

- He who has taken up the ralo, but does not see back.

The Lord comforted her with miracles on the way to the monastery. When she filed for resignation from her job, the same day her mother found a coherent speech. When she handed out the most expensive thing, books on her specialty, my mother got to her feet and began to walk. And on the first day of her stay in the monastery, her mother was baptized in distant Saratov. This supported the novice spiritually.She deliberately chose a monastery for herself, in which there would be an almshouse: like the venerable martyr Grand Duchess Elizabeth in the Marfo-Mariinsky monastery, she wanted not only to pray, but also to show loyalty to the Lord with deeds of love. The Lord extended her mother's life for another three years. And now I've taken it.

Returning from the funeral for obedience to the almshouse, the novice struggled with her sad thoughts:

- Now, if I had stayed in the world and looked after my mother, then before my death I would have communed her (the sister, with whom my mother lived, was still an unbeliever at that time and refused to bring the “old-mode priest”). And so my mother left without spiritual preparation - there was no unction, no communion.

And all the time, like a played record, the words sounded in my ears:This serpent, you created it, ru-gatisya to him ... "

The novice shifted all the blame on this serpent, and it was very painful for her that her mother suffered because of the intrigues of the enemy of the human race.

“Here, of course, who needs it now!” Who will beg her? She left without taking communion. I was looking after strangers here - but I didn’t give her a cup of water ...
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The novice for a while suddenly forgot how, having come to the monastery, she herself prayed to God in a fit of love for him:
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- God! You said: love your neighbor as yourself. But most of all I love my mom! Teach me to love these grandmothers more than I love my mother! ..
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And the Merciful Lord covered all the tragedy of the three-year separation from the mother with love for these blessed creatures. And now despondency overcame her. She walked along the corridor of the almshouse and could not drive away the dull deadness of her soul.

Suddenly a bell rang from Nun Kirilla's cell. She automatically ran to the bell.
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- Olya! .. Give me entoy, like her, black porridge!

The novice quickly brought a cup of buckwheat. Grandmothers were already well over 90 and they ate from a spoon, as their hands were unreliable, and their eyes were blind.

“Give me a spoonful of porridge,” Kirillushka said.

The novice brought a porridge to her mouth.

"That's how good your mommy is now!" How tasty you feed her! - Give me another spoon!

The novice held out some more.

“That’s how good, how delicious it is now for your mommy!” What was her name there? Ilintina?

The novice burst into tears. Kirillushka drove the horned one away from her soul, she realized. She didn’t tell her grandmothers anything about her mother’s death, she didn’t ask for their prayers, because she didn’t consider herself entitled to shift her burden on them: her mother only converted, she just got baptized, and how consciously did she have it? But Kirillushka selflessly offered her thin shoulder:

- Give me an entot! .. How is it? .. Remembrance!

The novice understood and quickly took out a new commemoration from the nightstand, which the nun had given Kirillushka the other day.

- Open the rest and write:Ilintins!.. Who else do you have there?!..

The novice wrote down everyone whom Kirill's mother ordered to write: the deceased relatives of the novice, all the deceased of Kirill's mother, Patriarch Pimen. Then about healthboth his own and the Kirillushkins. And before each meal, Cyril's mother now demanded that the entire "remembrance" be read first, and only after that did she eat the food.

The novice knew: now her mother "Ilintina" has a reliable representative before God. Her heart calmed down.

Story 8. About love

AT that day, the novice fed the nun Kirill, and behind her back another sister, a former neuropathologist, combed the schema nun Seraphim. Both did not perceive each other: old, blind and almost deaf, Serafima was frankly afraid of the former neuropathologist. And sister Galina responded with mutual hostility.

The novice suddenly heard the plaintive voice of Seraphimushka:

- Oh oh oh!..

At this time, the novice was the head of the almshouse. She looked around anxiously. Seraphim squeaked plaintively, and Galina, holding the schema girl by the top of her fingers, twisted her head so that it was convenient to comb her hair. The novice forgot all good manners, quickly approached and sharply threw up Galina's hand from the bottom up, freeing Surafimushka from the humiliating and terrible for her turning of her head.

The neurologist was outraged:

- What did I do? I feel so comfortable!

The novice did not answer, because she felt uncontrollable anger in herself. And she began to read the Jesus Prayer almost at the top of her voice.

When, after 5 minutes, the novice went out into the corridor, nun Maria was walking towards her from the other end of the building. She quickly approached the novice and suddenly said:

- You know? And I'm praying for her too. - And she began to talk about the love of Christ, that Galina also has kindness in her soul, that Galina herself suffers from her character, that she is hated by her own daughter-in-law and secretly helps her son's family, sending all her pension so that the daughter-in-law does not know where the money comes from.

A minute ago, blazing with "righteous anger," the novice came to her senses. Mother Mary, with her unexpected appearance and amazing penetration into a situation that she was not a witness, struck the novice. She remembered the ideal of all-encompassing love, realized that to this day, having been in faith for 14 years, she has not left teenage maximalism and has not even gained an idea of ​​what prayer is and what Christian love is. And that a true Christian cannot have enemies.

Story 9. Crib

At Maria's mother had a microstroke at night. The next night she was overlooked, she wanted to get up, fell and broke her collarbone.

The nun, who at that time was the head of the almshouse, and in worldly life a nurse in an Orthodox sisterhood, decided to shift Mother Maria onto a medical iron bed with all sorts of useful devices. The bed was large and would have occupied half of the tiny, once cozy, cell of Mother Mary. The nun decided to find support for herself in the person of a novice. The listener thought. The crib was not just a piece of furniture for Mary's mother. This was her past. When in 1937 her father, the archpriest, was taken away and shot at the Butovo training ground, they were left alone with their mother in a Moscow communal apartment. Mother Maria entered the institute, where she met a friend in misfortune, Katenka, from whom both her father and mother were taken away. And from the communal apartment, the neighbors gradually began to survive it. Maria's mother's mother offered Katenka to move in with them. It was on this small bed that Katenka then slept for all the remaining years, until her very old age. Both who chose the path of virginity and service to God in the world, they became related. After burying her spiritual sister Katenka and leaving for the monastery, mother Maria took the crib with her.

The novice remembered all this, but practical considerations and the fear that Mother Mary might again awkwardly turn around on that narrow bed and fall over.

- Yes, of course, we need to change! she reasoned.

Mother Maria was unconscious and did not hear anything. When she woke up after a stroke, her first question was:

- Well, my friend, betrayed me with a bed?

The novice understood: yes, she betrayed.
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Whatever happened on that small, dear bed with mother Mary, everything would be from God. And no medical technology can save the soul. And in moIn persistent sorrows, that little wooden bed was at least a small consolation for the old nun.

Story 10. Sins lost

M Father Maria and the spiritual father of the monastery, Father Nikolai, knew each other from the old, pre-monastic years.

Subsequently, already at the funeral of the nun, he lifted the veil over her past. Being the daughter of a priest who was shot in Butovo, mother Maria did not hide from those in power at all, she was not cautious, she did not fawn before them. In the world, she first worked as a draftsman, then she began to combine this work with the obedience of the treasurer in the temple, after that she completely left worldly work and devoted herself entirely to church life. Curators from the party constantly found fault with all the little things, often demanding that the rector come to the building on Lubyanka.

“And these healthy foreheads — the archpriests — trembled and sent instead of themselves this small, fragile woman, a nun in the world, Mother Mary,” said the priest. And she was not afraid, she walked boldly! He crosses himself to the temple and goes.

Mother Maria remained the same in the monastery.

The sisters revered her, secretly from the mother abbess ran to her cell to cry when she was strongly tempted. Mother Mary was not afraid of anyone. With Mother Abbess, they were from the same church. She took mother Maria as treasurer when she was restoring the monastery, but immediately warned:

- You look, mother, do not grow old! There are no two abbesses!

But the sisters went for spiritual advice to the prayer book and seer, and Mother Mary was not afraid of the abbot's wrath. With everyone and always she was direct and absolutely sincere.

When the novice began to experience strong temptations, which she herself could not bear, the grandmothers took her under their wing, began to patronize everything in turn. Mother Mary led her on the lines until her departure to the Lord. She simply "took" the novice into her cells without official permission.

Thanks to this, the novice saw a real monk close by.

This is not a "scribbler" who, without interruption, only counts how many prayers he subtracted. You can't tell from her that she's praying. You just notice: she was silent for a little while and the Lord had already revealed something to her. This “keep quiet” was her pure prayer. In general, it was clear that she was praying with her every breath, her every word, her every movement, her every deed.

Mother Mary was demanding of herself, meticulously monitored her sins, trying to bring every chink in her soul to confession. She demanded that the novice read to her in detail, in a row, all the sins listed in Archimandrite John Krestyankin's little book about confession, worn out over the years. The novice diligently, under dictation, wrote down the sins revealed by mother Mary in herself. In the evenings they wrote, and in the morning before the service, the novice tried to quickly free herself from her obedience at the sister's meal (for this she ran there at half past five) in order to lead Mother Mary with her sins to the service. And then one day, at the Entry into the Church of the Most Holy Theotokos, the novice came running - and Mother Mary dumbfounded her:

I won't go to the temple!

“How can you not go, mother Maria!?” We wrote all the sins yesterday!

- That's it! I lost my sins! - categorically concluded mother Maria.

The novice looked everywhere: on the table under a pile of books, on the table from all four corners under the oilcloth, in the bedside table, shifting each piece of paper and photograph. And mother Maria managed to tell something about each photo. But the sins were not found.

- Go to the priest, say: “Mother Mary will not go to the service. She lost her sins! the nun said sadly.

The novice ran to the temple. There was a big queue to the priest, about seventy people. ByThe novice ran around the whole line and blurted out to the priest as soon as he dismissed another confessor:
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- Father! Mother Mary said: she won’t go to the temple - she lost her sins!
- Sins lost! Sins lost! - the father hooted tenderly in a bass voice for the whole temple! - You and I, Olenka, would have such sins - that you can lose them! ..

Then he suddenly raised his eyebrows menacingly and “growled”:

- Tell her: let her urgently go to the temple! Then he again began to repeat the words that touched him: “I lost my sins!

Sins lost! Mother Maria treated obedience very responsibly. One day she said to the novice, noticing her disobedience:

“You know, if my spiritual father told me to eat meat during Holy Week of Great Lent, I would eat it without hesitation!

It was then that the novice understood “for what” the Lord gives gifts to His faithful children. After all, Mother Mary, not only in her 45 years of monasticism, but in general since her youth, has never eaten meat: she deliberately fasted out of love for God.

Having heard about the formidable command of the father to urgently go to the temple, mother Maria forgot about the note with sins and began to dutifully dress. When she put her hand into the pocket of her tunic, her sins were there.

Story 11. living gold

P the disobedient rode to the yard and wept. They had just finished the burial service for Mother Mary and listened to the priest's fiery sermon on the heroism of the life of the daughter of the executed holy martyr. The novice also had a chance to see the face of the deceased, dear to her: the mother opened it a little for one late schema woman. A smile was imprinted on the face of the nun - a visible reflection of heavenly bliss.Saying goodbye to the grandmothers, who began to leave for eternal life one after another, the novice was no longer surprised either by the heavenly smile on the faces of the deceased, or the warmth of their hands and the feeling that they just dozed off, but they hear and see and are present with their good soul next to the living sisters . They were already blessed during their lifetime.

The novice hoped that they would be taken to see mother Mary on her last journey. But they were told to go back to the courtyard. Olga had been working there for two months already, and could not be near the sick old nun.

Before her death, the nun had to endure grief. A sick worker annoyed her a lot. Mother Mary felt sorry for every creature. All the years, despite the hegumen's discontent, she patronized the yard dog Garrick. Under her protection, he lived like a true sir. Mother Mary fed him part of the food from her table and what grateful spiritual children from the world brought to her.

The old almshouse sank a meter into the ground on the side where the cell of the monks was. So its window sill came out just at ground level. On it, mother Maria put different bowls for stray cats. In general, her visits to the almshouse meal were very symbolic: she ate two or three spoons of soup, and took fish, sandwiches and all sorts of hearty goodies with her to her cell, which then replenished the bowls for God's homeless creatures on the windowsill. A venerable cat also lived in her cell, the mother of several generations of kittens, which the sisters then attached to pilgrims.

In the last days of her mother's life, Maria had a one-month-old kitten living with her. The ailing worker, going to mother Maria, began to rage: swear, scream. Despite the irritation of her nerves in the presence of an old nun, she seemed to be attracted to this cell. On the penultimate night, the enemy took out his anger on the dying prayer book through the sick Antonina, who was put on duty in the almshouse. She threw the kitten against the door - and he instantly died. The motionless mother Maria (she had a heart attack) was silent and praying.

According to Divine Providence, the witness of the death of mother Mary, probably, was a sister who did not love her very much - the nun, the eldest nun in the almshouse.

She entered the cell and saw that Mother Mary began to rise on the bed and stretched out her hands towards the icon corner. She said:

- Dad, are you here? Dad, I really wanted to be good - but I never did it!

In this revelation about myself, in this sincere repentance, was all Mother Mary! Yes, she was never sleek, pretty and exemplary. She was always a rush, a movement! Barely recovering from another fracture that followed one after another, she abandoned the stroller and flew to the temple, so that the mantle fluttered in a fit of speed. Her soul always passionately poured out in love and suffering for her neighbors.

Her fervent prayer was a pillar to heaven.

There was a case when Mother Mary saved a man from suicide. Intense grief brought one young woman to the idea of ​​committing suicide. She decided to finally go to the monastery, pray - and then die. She prayed and went to the gate to the exit. Passing by the almshouse, I saw an old mother sitting on a bench and reading a prayer book. The nun looked at her.

She approached the open gate and suddenly ran into an invisible barrier. Tried to get out again, same thing! Something drew her to that little mother with huge kind eyes. She came back and sat down on the bench. She told the nun almost immediately. She gave her the rule and promised to read the akathist of Kazan for her.

That woman became for the rest of her life a faithful almshouse keeper, living in the world, every day she came to the monastery, as to her own home. Seeing the death of the nun, the nun testified before everyone, albeit with an ironic smile, that Mother Mary was met by her holy father.

When the novice first went to Mother Mary, she always looked with delight at the home-made cardboard icon of the Savior in the crown of thorns. It was painted in gouache by the nun's nephew. They were brought from the courtyard to say goodbye to the deceased on the eve of the funeral, late in the evening, and they were allowed to take the icon or book they liked from Mother Mary's cell. When the novice entered, the first thing that caught her eye was the beloved icon of the Savior, as if specially reserved for her. After all, almost everything had already been dismantled for memory by other sisters.

We returned to the courtyard. That night, at three o'clock, the novice was to read the Indestructible Psalter. She set the alarm clock, lay down with still wet tears on her cheeks, and... ... She found herself in a golden carriage. To her left sat Mother Maria, from whom a living, kind warmth emanated. The carriage sparkled dazzlingly. We drove along a well-groomed road of some kind of Royal Park. From the sides, branches of well-groomed trees hung in two flowing streams. They were alive, swaying, but it was gold, pure gold! The sun shone through the golden foliage. And majestic, like the sound of a waterfall, a female voice sounded:

- This is where the nun Maria will live!

“... It was as if they had entered an icon with a golden robe, right inside, into the icon itself!” thought the novice. Who is it that says: “Nun Maria will live here”? And suddenly she realized that this was the holy princess, the patroness of a nun in tonsure, the Monk Maria of Vladimir, the former Czech princess. That's why the Royal Park!

“…So this is where the nun Maria will live!?” - she rejoiced in her soul ... And she woke up from the ringing of the alarm clock for the Psalter ...

Story 12. Lessons from Jesus

D about entering the monastery, the novice most of all dreamed of starting to pray the Jesus Prayer - not just saying it out loud, but in the way she read in the "Philokalia" by Gregory of Sinai. Yes, the father did not allow it yet. Said:
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- Once you come to the monastery, - there you will have leaders. And the very way of life, the very monastic Rule will contribute to this. And here, in the world, you will only cultivate vanity.

The novice trusted the priest: three of his sons served, and the fourth worked in the monastery.

In the monastery, in the very first days, Mother Abbess blessed her with a rosary. Somehow a novice stands at the Liturgy, the Cherubim is sung. And she twisted and twisted the beads with the Jesus Prayer, and suddenly she thought:

Why do I keep praying to Jesus? I’ll be reading “Virgin Mother of God, Rejoice,” and I reorganized. I forgot about the Cherubim, all focused on “Virgin Mother of God, rejoice” ...

Behind her, in an armchair, due to physical weakness, sat the old nun Valentina. Chubby, even round, funny. In the almshouse they treated her with leeches, and the leeches constantly ran away from her, the whole almshouse was anxiously looking for them, she did not at all look like a serious monk. Suddenly mother Valentina sharply pulled the novice by the rosary, so that she almost let go of them.

- Blimey! flashed through the novice's mind. I never thought she could see my thoughts! She herself washes mother's cat, spins around in the kitchen, burned all the pans, trying to bake pancakes! And she, it turns out, what a!

After the Liturgy, Mother Valentina asked her to take her by the arm to the almshouse: she was tired, they say, she was ill. As they walked, she told the novice, what salvation in the monastery, what sweetness! - as if she was warning me of something. The novice understood already in the evening, when sorrows came out from the older sisters. The enemy immediately sent a thought:

Why did you go to the monastery? I'll leave!

“She didn’t get sick at all. It was not I who led her from the service, but she me!

Story 13. Euphrosyn

M Valentina started cheesecakes for dinner. She asked the novice to turn on the gas and put down two frying pans. And for some reason she herself ran to the cell. Near the cell, grandmother Anna, looking out of the door opposite, caught her.

Anna sometimes had insurance: enemies would knock on her cell, she thought. (The novice suggested - simple tree branches). Then Annushka froze in horror and began to cry out of fear. This time, too, she was escaping from yet another insurance policy and decided to talk to her neighbor mother. They talked fruitfully, Annushka calmed down. The frying pans began to churn once again.

The guilty mother Valentina, who still really wanted to feed the entire almshouse with her cheesecakes, asked the novice to wash the pans and put them back on the gas. Calming herself with the fact that the nun in charge of the almshouse would not come today and catching up, it seems, can be avoided, the novice fulfilled her grandmother's request.

Mother Valentina began the culinary ritual. Now she didn't exist for anyone. Running from time to time past the kitchen into the next cell, the novice only heard sometimes the sweet voice of the cook:
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- Mother of God, bless! God help me! Guardian Angel, sweeten this food!obedience. But she is a serious monk. Always silent. Prays. He sorts out the rosary even in a dream. Always sick, high blood pressure, glaucoma, but never leaves prayer. And suddenly - such a wonderful hobby - cooking, - thought the novice.

Mother Valentina told things about herself that were surprising for a novice, how, when she was very young, she lived in a Moscow apartment in obedience to two old schemes and one nun, who received tonsure even before the revolution; how could they even beat her a little when she did not understand what they wanted from her. Once, in the 1950s, she took offense at them after another punishment and decided to leave, and began to look for a monastery. But the monasteries were almost all closed. She went to Pyukhtitsy, they didn’t accept her there, they drove her away with an incomprehensible question:

- Do you eat meat?

- No, no, - the novice of pre-revolutionary nuns answered in confusion.

Well, we don't need you.

Of course, they just played a joke on her about the meat in Pyukhtitsy, and, apparently, such a providence of God was about the future nun Valentina - that she came to the monastery only at the age of 85, to the almshouse, when she was almost blind. And in the world, in the heyday of her monasticism, seeing off her educators on their last journey, she served in the Cathedral near the shrine with the relics of the Saint: she put candles, straightened the lamps. There she herself was nourished by all prayer and holiness. It happened to her in worldly life and to sing in the kliros. Her voice was gentle, soft, chesty, sweet. She did not recognize modern choir singing and always scolded the nun-regent - that she sang the monastery choir rudely, loudly. And it is necessary that angels sing in the temple, and not singers.

A novice of the old school, who received a school of obedience from pre-revolutionary nuns, mother Valentina performed every task scrupulously, unhurriedly and with prayer. So, with a calm prayer, she washed the Abbot's white cat in the bathroom when he fell out in the dust. With all the greater seriousness, she reacted to today's cheesecakes.

The novice handed out her cheesecakes to walking grandmothers, ran to feed the sitting and lying ones. Then the obediences ran in a circle: to wash, change clothes, put to bed, read - to whom the Psalter, to whom the Gospel, to whom evening prayers ...

Mother Valentina several times caught her in the corridor with the words:

“Go ahead and eat some cheesecakes yourself.” I wrapped them up for you and put them on your table

The novice gave thanks in a hurry and ran on. Finally she seems to have changed everything. She sat down at the table just to relax! .. She didn’t have time for cheesecakes. I didn't even have the strength to pour myself some tea. But cheesecakes from a heating blanket smelled so sweet ...

She took out a plate, took a bite of one, and understood the words of the Psalm:Like myrrh on the head, descending on the beard, Aaron's beard, descending on the tassels of his clothes ... ”Sweet honey poured over her head, right under the skin, from the very top, behind the ears and over the face, and over the eyes ... She was all filled with sweetness! .. And the prayer itself flowed! .. But she knew that she was small! And she doesn't have a prayer! But prayer flowed in the mind and in the heart! ..

Here are your cheesecakes!

Oh, you, Euphrosyn the cook, she admired! ..

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Continued on the next blowing page -

Just like yesterday, at 6:00 a wake-up man came to our place. Went in, woke up, left. This time I woke up very hard. Slept badly. Went outside. Warmly. There is no wind. You can hear the chirping of birds and the "morning dawn" of a rooster from the farm. I went to the temple to look for the abbot. Valery is fussing at the icon shop, he learned from him that the rector is still in the city and will be somewhere after dinner. I looked at the schedule - I need to help on the farm for the whole day. A little upset, because the plans were to go about their business.
I went to the temple. Dark as usual. Several monks in their black robes sit on chairs waiting for the service to begin. Here comes the captain. He stood in a far corner, took a rosary from his pocket, fiddled with it and muttered something under his breath. The service began on schedule, at 6:30 the same monotonous singing poured through the temple. I decided not to stay in the service until the end. At 7:10 I decided to leave to film the preparation for breakfast.
Andrei is on duty in the refectory today.

Trudnik Vitaly as an assistant. Made a few shots.

General shots of the "kitchen".
I decided to try my luck in the service, maybe I can shoot something else there. I entered the temple just at the time when the captain was reading aloud. Made a couple of shots. Sat down on a bench. I'm waiting for the end of the service. I decided to work on the farm for a maximum of an hour, and then break my obedience and go about my work. At 7:40 my stomach gave a loud "boo-boo-boo" alert. It would be time for breakfast. Soon the stomach grumbling merged with the muttering of prayers. Service ended. Hurry for breakfast. The clock is 8:30. Home tomorrow morning. I'm planning on the morning ferry. I really want to have time to capture the city at the first rays of the sun. Still no abbot. What if he doesn't come back today? What then?! I really need him, I need his blessing so that I can shoot the cells of the monks, visit the prosphora, if possible, the altar, and take a few shots with him. In the meantime, I'll go to the farm to do my job. On the way, the phone vibrated again. There is a connection! To celebrate, he sent several SMS, called and answered a couple of letters. Andrei met me at the farm. Said to sweep the yard again.
Along the way, he helped Vasily carry a heavy can of milk to the doorkeeper. Returned to his work. Away, Andrey is kneading a brew for the cattle. Someone is busy with the cows. Tomorrow a journalist will arrive and will interview the abbot of the monastery. Well, together we will go back to the city. Almost a third of the farm has already swept. It's time to start your direct work - the collection of material.
First of all, I went to the most talkative inhabitant of the monastery - Father Valery. He was reading a book in the icon shop. He willingly agreed to comment. Father Valery is a novice at the temple. He lives in the monastery for about a year, performs the duties of a church shopkeeper. Novice Valery is 51 years old. I have never interviewed people in my life, so I asked only those questions that specifically interested me. For a long time I could not understand why people give up their lives, leave a comfortable civilized society and go to a monastery.
“People go to the monastery for several reasons. The best and most worthy reason is, of course, love for God. An inseparable search for the living God and devote all your strength, all your zeal, all your labors to Him alone. Give him all your heart so that it is always in the Lord. There is another reason, this reason is repentance. This is a man when having exhausted all his life resources that he had in the world. Weakened, squandered his spiritual wealth, those talents that the Lord handed him, he squandered them. He remained, as they say, naked, the soul remained naked, the soul remained hungry, the soul remained unwarmed. And then, having come to his senses, a person repents and looks for such ways of repentance that are more conducive to this repentance, and here is the most toboggan, convenient, most convenient place, the most convenient way. It is the path of repentance, the path of purification, the path of salvation,” Valery answered my question, “Well, for me, the monastery is the house of God, this is the house of the Most Holy Theotokos, this is my vocation.”
That's where it ended. Next, I had to go to the pasture to take a few shots of a shepherd with cows. Walk close to the local cemetery. Going outside the monastery, I felt a certain freedom, even breathing became a little easier. Having reached the coastline, I saw the outlines of a foggy city in the distance. Vladivostok. In addition, 3G Internet appeared on the phone. I was able to download a couple of instagrams, answer all letters and messages on social networks.
With a player in my ears, I slowly walked through the cemetery to the pasture. An ordinary meadow, there are cows in the meadow, I counted about 10 of them.
A shepherd in a green military suit. Sacred music softly plays from the receiver. Worker Valery acted as a shepherd today.
Made a few shots. They called from work. Long negotiations led to the fact that without noticing it, he reached the monastery, forgetting to interview Valery.
Having entered the territory of the monastery, I noticed how Father Spiridon was busy with the ZIL truck. He didn't mind me taking pictures of him.

I took some good shots, asked about how it is to be a monk, what duties fall on his shoulders, how obediences are distributed.
“The monastic way of life is a renunciation of the world. This is the fulfillment of the commandments of God, but above all - their vows, monastic ones. The monastic vow is a vow of obedience, a dinner of celibacy, a renunciation of the world. Man left the world in order to be related to God, nothing hindered him. The work in the monastery is distributed in such a way that everyone has some kind of obedience. The chef cooks for everyone. They work in the barnyard. Rukholny accepts and distributes things, washes, irons, also for everyone. It turns out that everyone does their own work, but all this work of everyone, it is included in the general obedience for organizing prayer and life in the monastery. But above all, it is salvation. The goal of monasticism is to save oneself and the whole world through prayer. And above all, save your soul. As the Russian proverb said: "Save yourself, thousands around you will be saved." Life according to the commandments of God far from the world. The goal of a monk is to connect with God in this world and the future,” Father Spiridon concluded his thought by comparing monastic life with the life of a soldier. Hard daily work to ensure the life of the monastery as a whole. Having finished with the questions, I decided to climb onto the roof of the building under construction. Perhaps it will offer a good view of the territory of the monastery. Uzbeks work at the construction site, I didn't shoot them.
It is planned to place a garage, utility rooms, refectories, Sunday school, cells, etc. in this building.

Privratnitskaya
Apiary
Monastic cells
After heading to the farm, you need to find out about the number of livestock on the farm. At the same time asked a few questions. Worker Andrew. 26 years. Six months in the monastery. He asked only one question: "What is the purpose of coming to the monastery?" He answered slowly and uncertainly, probably shy. Don't know. Well, the goal was the search for inner habits, awareness of life, more churching, comparing yourself with people who have gone through the spiritual path, and against their background to see your difference from them. He is not yet ready for monastic life, he is looking closely.
Our conversation was interrupted by the ringing of a bell - dinner. Long awaited lunch. I have never walked so fast around the temple grounds. For lunch today, vegetable soup, horns, mushrooms and salad. Tea or compote to choose from.

Prayer before meals.
After dinner I went to my cell to decipher everything that I managed to write down. You have to wait for the priest.
After completing the work, I decided to check the presence of Father Piterim in the apiary. This time I got lucky.
The monk took care of the bees, prepare the hive to feed the bees. At the same time I asked him about the construction of a new building on the territory of the monastery. According to Piterim, the abbot plans to place there a Sunday school, refectories, a car garage, a warehouse, as well as several cells for monks.
Next, we talked about the apiary itself. There are currently 44 hives on the farm.

They asked me to help. They dressed in a white robe, put a special panama with a net on their heads. The work was simple, it was just necessary to separate the parts from the hive and put them on the ground. This had to be done very carefully, because. bees really don't like the sound of knocking. There were no casualties.
Then he went to help prepare syrup for the bees. Two buckets of water are poured into a can, then everything is covered with sugar, in a ratio of 2 to 1 (2 kg of sugar per 1 liter of water). After that, mix everything very carefully. The usual sugar syrup is formed, a little thick. Bees love sweets. The syrup is then poured into the kettle and fed into the feeder. That's all. The last task was quite simple, to help take out the plywood with wax. Vladimir prepares it for making candles. Everything, time to run to the service. Then the long-awaited dinner. Strong desire to eat. The service itself took 30 minutes. Hence the late dinner. After eating, the traditional rules. After the rules, I managed to agree with the rector about tomorrow's interview, at the same time I informed about my tomorrow's county. Unfortunately, I was not allowed to film the cell. They said that I already have so much that a simple layman would not see. Now free time and hang up as usual. I took a few shots of the library.

Tomorrow at exactly 6 in the morning we get up, by 9 we need to stomp on the ferry to meet the journalist. An hour and a half to stay somewhere, wait for the end of the service in order to interview the rector. And that's all... It will be possible to say goodbye to everyone and go to the mainland. First of all, I’ll go to the editorial office, then to the bar, later I have to pay a fine for a loan, pay off another loan ... In general, do ordinary worldly affairs ... Again, plunge into the world of fuss, problems, city traffic ... But this is my world, my element. I feel comfortable living in this city bustle. Although the monastery is not so bad. No problem at all. There is an obedience, you fulfill it. Everything is strictly on time. There is practically no free time, there is always work. This gave me a little indulgence, because. My visit was working. Okay, this is the end of the description of the third day. Tomorrow is a new day. New impressions. Home tomorrow.

What makes Russian women become nuns

Today, on the wave of patriotism, we are becoming more and more pious - at least outwardly. And what about women's monasticism - our attitude towards him and him towards us? Who and why become nuns? Does God have a trial period, otherwise the desire will suddenly pass? And is it possible to return to the world if it has passed?

Under the USSR, the explanatory dictionary interpreted monasticism as “a form of passive protest against the inhuman conditions of life, as a gesture of despair and disbelief in the possibility of changing these conditions,” which originated under the autocracy. Then, at the word “nun”, it seemed only an elderly granny, who never got rid of the prejudices of the past. Today, those who go to the monastery look very different.

For example, romantic young ladies, "bookish" girls who drew their ideas about monasteries from novels and films. Muscovite Larisa Garina in 2006 observed obedience in the Spanish monastery of barefoot Carmelites (one of the most strict, with a vow of silence), prepared to take a vow and assured that only love for God brought her to these walls. “It’s hard for a week without sex,” Larisa assured, “but all my life it’s normal!” Today Larisa is happy, married, mother of two children. Youth for that and youth to experiment.

A significant contingent is represented by girls with problems, who initially enter the monastery only for a while. 25-year-old Alina 7 years ago, at 18, became addicted to drugs. “My parents sent me to a monastery for 9 months,” she recalls. - This is a special monastery, there were 15 novices like me. It was hard to get up before dawn in the morning, to pray all day long and poking around in the garden, to sleep hard... Some tried to escape, went to the field to find some grass in order to “kill themselves” at least with something. After some time, the body seems to be cleared. And a little later, enlightenment comes. I remember this state well: how the veil falls from my eyes! I completely came to my senses, reconsidered my life - and my parents took me away.

“The monastery is also a kind of rehabilitation center for people who are “lost”: drinkers, the homeless,” Father Pavel, confessor of the Bogorodnichno-Albazinsky St. Nicholas Convent, confirms Alina’s words. “The lost ones live and work in the monastery and try to start a normal life.

Among those who went to the monasteries there are many well-known people. For example, the younger sister of actress Maria Shukshina Olga, daughter of Lydia and Vasily Shukshina. At first, Olga followed in the footsteps of her parents and starred in several films, but she soon realized that she was uncomfortable in this environment. The young woman found the meaning of life in God, she lived at an Orthodox monastery in the Ivanovo region, where her sick son was brought up for some time. Olga bore "obedience" - in addition to prayers, she baked bread and helped with the monastic household.

In 1993, the actress Ekaterina Vasilyeva left the stage and went to the monastery. In 1996, the actress returned to the world and to the cinema and explained the reason for her departure: “I lied, drank, divorced my husbands, had abortions ...” Vasilyeva’s husband, playwright Mikhail Roshchin, after a divorce from whom she left the world, assured that the monastery cured his ex-wife of alcohol addiction: “In whatever clinics she was not treated, nothing helped. But she met a priest, Father Vladimir, and he helped her recover. I think she sincerely became a believer, otherwise nothing would have happened.”

In 2008, People's Artist of Russia Lyubov Strizhenova (mother of Alexander Strizhenov) changed her worldly life to a monastery, waiting for her grandchildren to grow up. Strizhenova went to the Alatyr Monastery in Chuvashia.

The famous actress Irina Muravyova does not hide her desire to hide in the monastery: “What most often leads to the temple? Illnesses, sufferings, mental anguish... So I was brought to God by sorrow and a aching emptiness inside. But the confessor of the actress does not yet allow her to leave the stage.

I go to the courtyard of the Novospassky Monastery in the near Moscow region, known for receiving novices and also providing shelter for women victims of domestic violence. Moreover, the monastery itself is male.

I inform the priest that I came to consult about the 20-year-old niece Lisa - they say, she wants to go to the monastery and does not listen to any persuasion.

Father, Father Vladimir, reassures:

- You bring her. We won't take it, but we'll certainly talk. It must have been unrequited love. Age disposes ... She must not go to the monastery! One cannot come to God out of grief and despair, whether it is unrequited love or something else. People come to the monastery only out of conscious love for God. Ask Mother George, she came to the sisterhood 15 years ago, although everything was fine with her - both work and a full house.

The sister, and now mother, named after St. George in the monastery, was called differently in the world. Despite the black robes and lack of makeup, she looks 38-40 years old.

“I came at 45,” my mother smiles slyly, “and now I’m 61 years old.

Either an enlightened look gives such an effect, or a relaxed, kind face ... I wonder what brought her to God?

- Do you have a goal in life? Mother answers a question with a question. - And what is she like?

“Well, to live happily, to love children and loved ones, to bring benefits to society ...” I try to formulate.

Mother George nods her head: “Okay, why?”

And no matter how hard I try to find an explanation for my seemingly noble goals, I always get into a dead end: really, why? It turns out that it seems like my goals are not high, but vain. Minor chores - all to live comfortably, so that neither conscience nor poverty disturbs.

“As long as you don’t realize the purpose of your earthly life, there is nothing to do in the monastery,” Matushka George sums up, and Father Vladimir smiles approvingly. - I came when suddenly one fine morning I realized what I live for. And I woke up with a clear understanding of where to go. I didn’t even come to the monastery, they brought the legs themselves. She left everything without a second thought.

And have you ever regretted it?

“This is such a state when you clearly see your path,” mother smiles. There is no place for doubts and regrets. And bring your Lisa, we'll talk to her, tell her that she doesn't need to give up the worldly fuss - it's still too early. Going to a monastery just because of troubles in your personal life is not good! Yes, and from the young flesh there will still be temptations, it will not be up to prayer. But it is imperative to talk: otherwise, if stubborn, what kind of sect can lure.

- You don’t take young people in general, do you? But who are these women? I point to a group of women in black robes working on a household plot. Some of them seem young.

“There are those who are waiting to be tonsured,” the priest explains, “but they have been novice here for a long time, they have already tested their love for the Lord. In general, up to the age of 30, the rector usually does not give a blessing to a woman. There are those who simply carry obedience, they can always leave. And there are those who escaped from their monster husband, they live over there, some with children, - the priest points to a detached log house. We will shelter everyone, but in order to live somehow, you have to work in the monastic household.

— And there are those who, on principle, are not taken as nuns?

“Contraindications are about the same as for driving,” the priest smiles, pointing at his car with his finger. - Epilepsy, mental disorders and a drunken mind.

But from what kind of happiness can one be drawn to a monastery, if one cannot be from grief and disappointment? My conversations with those who were just going to the monastery or visited, but returned to the world, show that such thoughts do not come from a good life.

Muscovite Elena had an adult daughter in a terrible accident. While they fought for her life in intensive care, she vowed that she would go to the monastery if the girl survived. But the daughter could not be saved. A year after the tragedy, Elena admits that sometimes it seems to her that her daughter died in order to save her from monasticism. Because Elena is glad that she did not have to fulfill her promise and give up worldly life. Now the orphaned mother reproaches herself for not formulating her thought differently then: let her daughter survive, and we will live a full life together and enjoy it.

32-year-old Saratov resident Elena admits that a year ago she wanted to go to the monastery, depression was caused by serious complications after the operation. Today Lena is happy that there were kind people who managed to dissuade her:

“My confessor, as well as relatives, friends, and psychologists kept me from this step. I came across a good father, he listened to me and said: you have a family - this is the most important thing! And he advised me to turn to an Orthodox psychologist. Today I understand that my desire to enter a monastery was only an attempt to escape from reality and had nothing to do with the true desire to come to God.

“The aspiration of girls to a monastery is most often an attempt at self-realization in this way,” confirms Ellada Pakalenko, a psychologist with a rare “Orthodox” specialization. She is one of the few professionals who work specifically with "monasticism" - those who want to get away from worldly life, but have doubts. They come to Hellas themselves, sometimes they bring relatives who are unable to dissuade their relatives from such a step on their own. It was Pakalenko who helped Lena from Saratov avoid the monastery cell. Hellas knows what she is talking about: at the age of 20 she herself went to the Donetsk monastery as a novice.

Ellas Pakalenko. Photo: from personal archive

“In general, the general flight to monasteries is always accompanied by an economic crisis, genocide and overpopulation,” says Hellas. “If we turn to history, it is clear that mass exoduses of lay people always occur against the background and as a result of a sick society. And the mass exodus of women is a sure sign of pressure on them. This happens when women cease to cope with the task assigned to them and want to throw off the burden of responsibility by trusting God. And in our country, from time immemorial, girls are brought up with very high standards: she must be a wife, and a mother, and a beauty, and educated, and be able to feed her children. And the boys grow up irresponsible, feeling that they themselves are happiness and a gift for any woman.

An Orthodox psychologist is sure that going to a monastery replaces unfulfilled love for a woman:

– As practice shows, girls who go to the monastery are not at all from churched families, but emotionally closed, with low self-esteem and weak sexuality, believing that they will be “understood” only within the monastery walls. They do not understand that this is not a way out, and even more so, it is not good for God. The monastery is also not the best place for pacifying the flesh: girls with normal sexuality, who try to suppress it in this way, will have a hard time in the monastery. In the sense that they will not find the peace they are waiting for there.

Pakalenko says that she visited many monasteries, talked with novices and nuns, and can say for sure that she brings yesterday's carefree girls to cells. These are bad relationships with parents, especially with the mother, low self-esteem and perfectionism.

- In one monastery, I saw such nuns that Hollywood is resting! Ella recalls. - Tall, slender girls of model appearance. It turned out, and the truth - yesterday's models, kept women of rich people. And they have such a challenge both in their eyes and in their speeches: “I feel better here!”. For young people, a monastery is always an escape from problems, from failures. An attempt to "change coordinates" in one's own life, so that they would be treated differently. This is not bad, but it is not about true faith, but about the fact that these girls have no other tools to change their lives - do not lose heart, work, study, love. This is about weakness and lack of will to live, and not at all about love for God. Good confessors dissuade such people. But all sorts of sects, on the contrary, seek and lure. Sects always need fresh blood from the disappointed, desperate, morally unstable. And they always lure precisely by the fact that they promise chosenness: "We are special, we are different, we are higher."

Hellas tells about her own way to the monastery walls. It was in her native Donetsk, she was 20, she was a stately and beautiful girl, she enjoyed the increased attention of men, for which she was constantly reproached in a strict family. At some point, she wanted a pause - inner silence, in order to know herself. And she fled to the convent. Since then, 20 years have passed, and Hellas assures that there is a way back from the monastery. Although it is definitely not easy.

“I know what it’s like to live in a monastery as a novice, and then realize that it’s not yours, and leave from there and return to these walls only as a specialist – a “dissuader” from the monastery. Now I am 40, I teach people to believe in God and keep his commandments, and not to fence themselves off from the outside world simply because they don’t have the strength to get what they want, to resist violence, evil, pain.

Hellas recalls that at the monastery, in addition to novices and nuns, there were also just women with children who had nowhere to go. All the inhabitants of the monastery walls had their own stories, but no one was immediately taken to the vows. It was necessary to stay in the monastery from six months and, if the desire persisted, ask for the blessings of the abbess. Mostly they were simple women, without special requests and education.

An expert on Orthodox ethics and psychology, Natalya Lyaskovskaya, admits that since the onset of the crisis, there have been more women who want to retire from the world. And he identifies 5 main types of "candidates for nuns."

Natalya Lyaskovskaya. Photo: from personal archive

1. Today, most often students of monasteries become nuns. In Russia, there are many shelters where orphans who have lost their parents, children from dysfunctional families find protection, care and care. These girls grow up in nunneries under the care of sisters in Christ, who not only take care of the physical health of their pupils, but also spiritually - they treat children with the love that they were deprived of. After graduating from high school, they can leave the walls of the monastery, find their place in society, which is not difficult with the acquired skills. However, girls often stay in their native monastery for the rest of their lives, take tonsure and, in turn, work in orphanages, nursing homes, hospitals (by obedience), schools - and at monasteries there are musical, artistic, and pottery, and other schools, not only general education and parochial. These girls cannot imagine life without a monastery, outside of monasticism.

2. The second common reason why adult girls and women come to the monastery is a great misfortune suffered in the world: the loss of a child, the death of loved ones, the betrayal of a husband, etc. They are accepted for obedience, if for a long time the woman still wants to become a nun and the Mother Superior sees that she will become a nun, she will be tonsured. But most often such women gradually come to their senses, gain spiritual strength in the monastery and return to the world.

4. There is another category of women over whom our monasteries are increasingly taking care of. These are women who failed to integrate into the social model of society or for some reason thrown to the sidelines of life: for example, those who lost their homes due to the fault of black realtors, expelled from home by children, drinkers, struggling with other addictions. They live in a monastery, feed on it, work according to their strength, but they rarely make nuns. It is necessary to go through a long spiritual path in order for the monastic spirit to kindle in such a person.

5. Sometimes there are exotic reasons: for example, I know one nun who went to a monastery (apart from her sincere inclination towards the monastic way of life) because of the unique library that the monastery she chose had at her disposal. In one of the Siberian monasteries there is a Negro girl, she came to Russia specifically to become a nun and “live in silence”: in her homeland she had to live in a Negro ghetto, where there was terrible noise day and night. The girl received holy baptism and for four years now she has been tonsured as a nun.

Father Alexei Yandush-Rumyantsev. Photo: from personal archive

And Father Aleksey Yandushev-Rumyantsev, prefect for academic and scientific work of the Higher Catholic Theological Seminary in St. Petersburg, explained true female monasticism to me this way:

“The church sees a special blessing in women choosing the monastic path — as always, when her children devote themselves to prayer and spiritual achievement for the world and for all of humanity, for this is love for one’s neighbor. Today, as in all previous eras, starting from the early Middle Ages, among the people who devoted their entire lives to serving God and prayer, the majority were women. The experience of our life suggests that, being by nature delicate and defenseless, women are in fact often stronger and incomparably more selfless personalities than men. It affects their life choices as well.”