Epistle to hegumen basil about the schema. O. Vasily (Pasquier) as the conscience of the Chuvash Republic. From Catholicism to Orthodoxy

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Hieromonk Sebastian Once I had a chance to spend the night at the village priest - he asked the priest's house, he advised me to go to the cemetery: "He lives there." Just knocked - the light came on, like me

Invasion of Batu Martyrs: princes Roman, Oleg, Theodore, Eupraxia, John of Ryazan. Vladimir, Vsevolod, Mstislav, Agafya, Maria, Khristina, Theodora of Vladimir. St. Grand Duke Georgy Vsevolodovich, St. Vasily Konstantinovich Rostov, Vasily Kozelsky After death

Posted on the site a film about Abbot Vasily (Pasquier). This is a Russian priest originally from France, now rector of the church of the Iberian Icon of the Mother of God in the city of Alatyr, Chuvash Republic. Link to movie.

1. Hegumen Vasily. 2. Photograph of the Temple of the Iberian Icon of the Mother of God. Author - Fedorishchev Dmitry. Found on Sobory.ru

ABOUT IGUME VASILY

Father Vasily was born in the city of Cholet, in March 1958. And the seventh child of the Pasquier family was named Pierre Marie Daniel. The parents, Henry and Martha, were deeply religious and, having included the name of the Blessed Virgin Mary in the name of the newborn son, they dedicated him to the Mother of God from birth.

The first years of life, baptism, first communion, schooling took place with little Pierre in the ancient village of Tiffozh, founded before the birth of Christ by the Roman Legion from the Caucasus.

The Pasquier family, which by 1967 had 9 children, was left without a mother. The care of six little brothers fell on the care of the father and the shoulders of one of the older sisters.

As a ten-year-old boy, Pierre helped the priest in the Temple during Sunday services, and in his spare time he worked part-time with his father in the office as a courier, and even as a sociologist-statistician during the census. At this age, he liked to work on the farm, in nature.

When the older sister, who replaced the mother of the younger children, decided to continue her studies, the father was forced to marry. These changes in the family brought with them many good and joyful moments.

As a young man, Pierre Marie Daniel thought a lot about his life. At the age of 15, religious impulses awoke in his soul. He felt that change was coming. In search of his place under the sun, there were fascinations with oriental cultures: Hinduism, Buddhism, yoga, but not for long and not seriously, since his first bible remained near him.

Having bought a backpack and a tent with the money earned during the holidays, being 17 years old, Pierre Pasquier went "hitchhiking" for 1000 km. from home, to the south of France, to the Ark community. Returning a month later for the new school year, Pierre's classmates did not recognize him. He became a serious, reserved, adult religious man, an ascetic. It was then that he embarked on the path of spiritual transformation, the path of repentance. This year, in the last year of his studies, he and his older sister Genevieve went to monasteries a lot, visited nursing homes, orphanages, and was engaged in ecology. He realized that everything he learned in the Ark community, where his older brother Herve lived, everything he saw and heard, turned his life around irreversibly.

After school, Pierre felt that the Lord was calling him. He left home. He studied at an agricultural technical school, lived and worked on a farm. He completed his last year of study while living in the Epiphany community.

Pierre Pasquier was not drafted into the army, according to the existing article "Refusal to perform military service for religious and moral convictions."

In August 1980, Pasquier Pierre Marie Daniel became Father Basil, taking monastic vows with the name of St. Basil the Great. And in September, on the feast of the Exaltation of the Cross of the Lord, he flew to Jerusalem, to the newly opened monastery of St. John the Hermit, where he and 5 other young monks were waiting for the great work of restoration work and the organization of the monastery with a deep historical past, starting from Christmas itself. Christ. But in 1948 the monastery was empty and stood empty until 1975, when the Epiphany community rented buildings and land for its students, and Patriarch Maxim V of the Melktik Greek Catholic Church with the synod decided to open the monastery of John the Hermit.

Soon a young monk, father Vasily met with Archimandrite Daniel. Serving in the monastery "Shevoton", but living in Rome, the monk, the Theologian, spoke 16 languages, was a diplomat. Twice as old as Father Vasily, he became his closest person, an exceptional adviser, taught him to love Orthodoxy and awakened the desire to become Orthodox.

For ten years, Father Vasily lived with this thought, ran secretly to the Orthodox Gornensky Russian convent, suffered punishment for this, worked hard for his monastery, studied at the Theological Institute. Worthy endured all the hardships of that time. Sometimes, when Jewish nationalists staged provocations and attacks, death was very close. He was ordained a deacon. Made a pilgrimage to Sinai. He worked at the Eastern Christian Center. He followed the numerous emigrants from Russia at that time, helped them. I ran at night to the services at the Holy Sepulcher. He felt that his time was coming.
In the 1990s, Father Vasily met with the then Metropolitan Alexy, the current Patriarch of Moscow and All Russia, with Bishop Varnava, the Archbishop of Cheboksary and Chuvash.
Orthodoxy occupied more and more place in his life.
The day of October 4, 1993, was the last day in the Uniate monastery. He found himself at the reception of Patriarch Diodorus, who received him with love and blessed him to accept Orthodoxy in Russia, since Father Vasily already had much in common with this country. Wrote a letter to His Holiness Patriarch of Moscow and All Russia Alexy II. At home, my parents in France were waiting for an answer. Long waited, through trials, worries and despair. In early January 1994, with a visa, an invitation, and a round-trip ticket for ten days, Father Vasily stepped on board a Russian plane, firmly convinced that this was a one-way trip.

Immediately upon arrival in Moscow, old acquaintances found him and invited him to their place. That winter, Father Vasily visited Tula, Kostroma, and Kolomna. His affairs in the DECR were slowly moving forward. At the same time, for the first time, he attended the Patriarchal service in the Assumption Cathedral of the Moscow Kremlin. Was with the elders: Fr. Nicholas on the island "Zalit", who met Father Vasily with a bow to the ground and a verse from a psalm, "Dear beloved heart, Jerusalem, the Holy City, Farewell, my unforgettable, My bow to You at the gates ...", which greatly embarrassed the young monk. And Elder John Krestyankin ordered to return to Moscow for the celebration of the Name Day of Patriarch Alexy II and say that Father Vasily is a gift to him on his Name Day from Father John Krestyankin. Hearing at the festive service about such a gift, the Patriarch laughed and promised to personally deal with the work of Father Vasily.

Soon, in the Danilov Monastery, Hierodeacon Vasily was joined to Orthodoxy, on the first week of Great Lent, on Tuesday, the day of the icon of the Mother of God “Reigning”. The modest accession ceremony was performed in French, so that Father Vasily could understand what was happening to him. Over the next fortnight, he took communion many times, served several times with the Patriarch. Then he waited a long time for his documents and only in mid-April received them and a referral to the Pskov-Caves Monastery. In the summer he was on Mount Athos, where he walked around all the monasteries with his companion, then still a hieromonk, now Archimandrite Jerome, whom Father Vasily met in Jerusalem, and who accompanied him almost all his subsequent stay in Russia.

Upon returning from Athos, His Holiness blessed them, at their personal request, to the Cheboksary-Chuvash diocese. There, having arrived in the village of Maloe Churashevo for the feast of the Beheading of John the Baptist, having almost lost their heads themselves, having never served, driven out by the local flock, they arrived at a permanent place of service in the village of Nikulino, Poretsky district of the Chuvash diocese.

With the ordination in 1995 of Hierodeacon Basil as a hieromonk, various rites immediately begin: weddings, unction, funeral services, through the whole village he went to the sick and suffering, confessed and took communion. Soon, finally, his long-cherished dream came true - he served in Jerusalem at the Holy Sepulcher as an Orthodox Priest. Those who knew him as a Catholic did not immediately admit him to the service. But after some formalities, Father Vasily could already serve there more than once without hindrance. On the Transfiguration of the Lord he served on Mount Tabor, on the Assumption of the Most Holy Theotokos - in Gethsemane.

Appointed by the Rector of the Church of the Nativity of Christ in the village. Nikulino in the fall, in the summer of 1996, Father Vasily, at the request of Fr. Jerome, is translated as a resident of the Holy Trinity Monastery in the city of Alatyr and is appointed dean.

Now, a little accustomed to Russian reality, Father Vasily begins to feel a restriction in his rights and freedoms, as a foreign citizen, and with the blessing of Vladyka of Cheboksary and Chuvash Archbishop Barnabas, a long litigation for the acquisition of Russian citizenship begins, which ended only on May 13, 1998. During this time he was awarded a golden cross, then elevated to the rank of hegumen.

The path to obtaining citizenship is long and thorny. As soon as he arrived in Nikulino began checks, pressure, they were obliged to come to the authorities, they suspected everything. Father Vasily endured everything. He is a simple man, the purpose of his stay in Russia is absolutely clear. After a year and a half of constant checks and suspicions, he deserved a solemn ceremony of presenting a Russian passport. In Cheboksary, officially, before the eyes of television cameras, Father Vasily became a citizen of Russia. The President of Chuvashia Fedorov NV sent a congratulation with good wishes.

At the request of the nun Tabitha, the abbess of the Kiev-Nikolaev Novodevichy Convent, Father Vasily, by the Decree of Vladyka, was appointed to the position of senior clergyman in the convent, where for 5 years, until recently, he served faithfully, trying to instruct the nuns of the monastery to the best of his ability in monastic work.

By decree of Metropolitan Barnabas of Cheboksary and Chuvash, hegumen Vasily is dismissed from the post of priest of the Kiev-Nikolaev Novodevichy Monastery in the city of Alatyr and appointed to the post of rector of the Church of the Iberian Icon of the Mother of God. Almost simultaneously with the new appointment, Metropolitan Varnava of Cheboksary and Chuvash, with the blessing of His Holiness Patriarch Alexy II of Moscow and All Russia, placed an award, the Palitsa, on Abbot Vasily on the day of memory of the transfer of the relics of St. Nicholas the Wonderworker from the World of Lycia to Bar.

Now a new stage has begun on the thorny path of Abbot Vasily. By his own efforts, the local authorities decided to return the temple to the real owners. The condition of the church building leaves much to be desired. But the most important thing now for Father Vasily is that he sees how much this church is needed. We can say that there is no church yet, and a prayer service is served only on Sundays, but there are already parishioners. Patients and medical workers turn to him every day. He constantly unctions, confessions, communion, blesses for treatment. Instructs doctors. The very fact that there is a church on the territory obliges the hospital management to reconsider some of their views on the attitude to the place of work, and to the people around them, and to the order inside the hospital and beyond.

Those who are hungry and thirsty not so much for physical health as for spiritual peace, force Father Vasily to act. Without funds and professional specialists, on mere enthusiasm, he is ready not to leave the temple for days, to work on clearing, cleaning and doing any work, if only the temple was restored, if only the work would move forward. He is glad for every sacrifice, every meager mite. He collects crumbs for material and tools, for timber and plaster. Because every gift is good...

Hieromonk Vasily (in the world Igor Ivanovich Roslyakov)

Oh God, listen to my cries
No one else heard them

If I've been given inspiration.

A person's conversion to God does not occur as a result of the socio-political situations in which a person finds himself, but from the fact that the Lord Himself opens up to him and chooses to serve Himself. And it can happen at the worst possible time. Since the founding of the Church, Christ has warned his disciples that they will always be persecuted by the world that has changed after the fall. But the Church of Christ will never be defeated. It is always especially hard for the monks - the chosen soldiers of Christ. In our time, when the physical destruction of the Church, which took place at the beginning of the 20th century, ended, when the atheist forces decided that everything - the church was destroyed, even the roots were cut down, and if anything remains, let it slowly go away - the old people will die, the youth, drugged by propaganda , will not go there. And the period of public oblivion began, the exclusion of the Church from public life. But at that time, a young woman was walking around the Moscow district of Kuzminki with a stroller in which her newborn son Igor was lying. He was born on December 23, 1960. His parents were not strangers to the church - i.e. christened the child and went to the temple on major holidays. The boy's parents were not churched people. Father, Ivan Fedorovich, was born in 1917, was brought up in an orphanage and did not remember his parents. He was a worker, during the Great Patriotic War he served in the Navy as a sailor. But he was an honest and straightforward man. He died in 1979, when Igor finished school. Mom, Anna Mikhailovna, worked for many years at a weaving factory. Igor studied at school number 466, not far from which the temple was located. And when he felt the call of the Lord, we do not know, this is the secret of his soul. There were no external reasons that usually prompt a person to seek help from God. Usually this is a heavy grief or a meeting with some holy person. But he had nowhere to meet such a person at that time.

From the 3rd grade, the boy begins to play sports - water polo. By the 9th grade, he becomes a master of sports of international class and is a member of the USSR national team. Newspapers begin to write about a successful athlete, but at the same time, the young man feels that sport is not his calling. His inner life was closed to outsiders, but close people by that time begin to notice the changes taking place in the young man, although they cannot truly appreciate them. After school, Igor works for a year at the AZLK automobile plant, after which he then enters the Faculty of Journalism of Moscow State University. And almost simultaneously at the Institute of Physical Education. Lesgaft in Leningrad. He receives two higher educations, and this already speaks of what kind of person he is. Firstly, this is a purposeful, collected, organized, responsible person and, moreover, has great intellectual abilities. And the Lord gave him a monastic soul, and the merit of this man is that his soul knew itself and understood what it was called to.

He travels to international competitions, but at the same time he begins to fast. His faith and influence on the people around him were so great that then his whole team with their families came to God. His teammate recalled that once a very important competition took place during Lent. Everyone knew that Igor was fasting, and they were afraid that he would weaken and the team would lose. They fed meat, it's the main source of protein. Friends offered their captain food, to which he said: "The main thing is that there are spiritual forces, and physical ones will come." Friends were able to appreciate this feat only later, when they themselves began to fast.

Fellow students recall that Igor was very educated and, since he enjoyed authority in the team, they tried to reach out for him. "I remember he bought the Bible abroad - and we buy the Bible." One of the comrades recalls that during the game Igor hid the cross under a swimming cap. The sports management, having learned that Igor attends the temple, made him restricted to travel abroad - forbade him to travel abroad.

Igor's attitude to democracy is interesting. Then political changes began in the country. One day at a meeting, the team members started talking about democracy in sports and how to expand it. To which Igor said: "A team is a monarchy, and if the game is not subordinated to a single will, then what kind of game will it be." After tough competitions, athletes were given a month's vacation. Everyone went to rest by the sea, and Igor for this time left for the Pskov-Caves Monastery, where he worked in various obediences. There is an assumption that he confessed to Archimandrite John Krestyankin, who once said to him: “Well, shall we become monks?” Realizing how much the media depend on the authorities, Igor decided that he would not work as a journalist. He got a job as a sports instructor, where he could internally remain free from the influence of the authorities.

Igor Roslyakov was tall, strong and very handsome. With such physical data, it would seem that he should have been successful with girls and be the soul of the company, but the young man then already understood that he did not need this, and in every possible way avoided noisy companies and female society. Although he got married in his second year at Moscow State University, the marriage lasted six months, no one remembered this marriage. He no longer looked for a wife. He was never seen angry or dissatisfied with anything. But at the same time, his isolation and inner focus on himself, people sometimes took it for coldness. He was constantly as if immersed in himself.

In addition to his talents, Igor Roslyakov wrote poetry. At first they were ordinary - rhyming, secular, but on spiritual topics. And then he began to write church hymns, texts in Church Slavonic. And at that time he burned all his worldly poems. He didn't like them. Then there was a fashion for songs of spiritual content with a guitar, but Igor said: “Of course, it’s beautiful to sit by the fire and sing these songs, only there aren’t enough bottles.” Igor already then looked at it from the other side - through the eyes of a monk and understood that it was necessary to rise from the spiritual to the spiritual. He did not offer his poems for publication.

He kept diaries all the time. But it is impossible to form an idea of ​​\u200b\u200blife from diaries. In them, he did not record the events of life and did not describe himself, these were mainly impressions from the patristic books he had read and reflections on God. Therefore, his whole life is compiled according to the recollections of his friends. But he noted some events in his diary. On April 12, he wrote: “Mom found my baptismal cross. I put it on for the first time since my baptism 27 years ago. A clear sign of God, indicating, perhaps, approximately the day of my baptism. Mom doesn't remember. It's joyful. And it recalls the words of Christ: "Take up your cross and follow me." It's still painful." Great Lent is coming soon. And Igor goes to competitions in Tbilisi and, although from the outside it seemed to his friends that it was not so difficult for him, he writes: “I experienced the words of David:“ My knees were exhausted from fasting, and my body lost its spirit. God! Bless and save!". On April 20, he returns to Moscow and goes to the liturgy at the Epiphany Cathedral. He often visits the temple. People remember that when they looked at him at that time in a church service, many decided that this was a monk praying. On April 28, 1988, Igor goes to an exhibition of paintings by Konstantin Vasiliev, who writes on mystical themes. Many people like it because it's beautiful. But Igor looks at the exhibition and thinks: “Interesting, talented, beautiful, that is, sincerely, but I want spirit. People like it, they say: a return to the roots. And to what? The origins of Russia in Christianity, and not in a dense forest. Vasiliev, apparently, was fond of Wagner, and therefore in the pictures about Russia the same pagan flavor. That is, a falcon's look, wolf's eyes, but I want more kindness and mercy. The words of Christ are immediately recalled: “I want mercy, not sacrifice.” At this time, he already had such deep reasoning about everything, received with God's help, but without constant spiritual guidance.

At the end of June 1988, Igor went to Optina Pustyn. Before that, he had already told his mother several times that he wanted to be a monk. But Anna Mikhailovna, like any mother, especially a worldly woman at that time, was not even worried. After all, he constantly left for the Pskov-Caves Monastery to work. Mom recalled: “I thought that I would work for a year and come. And I didn’t even worry, she would stay in obedience and return. ” On June 21 he arrives in Optina and stays until the end of August. At this time, only a year has passed since the opening of the monastery after a period of desolation. There is the hardest physical work, and a young man full of strength successfully works on all these hardest obediences. And decides to stay in the monastery. But in order to pay off all his affairs, with the world, as he says, he needs to return to Moscow. Igor arrives in Moscow, quits his job, does everything he is supposed to, and on September 15 kneels before his mother. With tears in his eyes, he begins to ask her to enter the monastery. "Mom, bless me." After the departure of the son, the mother cried all the time. Once I had a dream: the doorbell rang, she decided that Igor had returned, went up, opened it, and there was an old monk standing there. She slammed the door. Then the bell rang again, she came up, opened it, a woman was already standing there. The woman's face seemed familiar, and her hands were folded as if for communion - on her chest. Then the mother remembered that she had seen this face on the icons. And, frightened by this woman, she closed the door.

On October 17, Igor arrives in Optina Hermitage forever. At first he lives in a common cell at the monastery, and then he is transferred to the skete, to the hut of St. Ambrose. Of all the Optina Elders, he reveres this one the most. On this day he writes: “I came to the monastery of St. Ambrose. Father Ambrose, pray to God for me." Throughout his monastic life, he turned to him, very often went to his grave. One worker wrote that she was even angry with Father Vasily and Father Feropont: “My land is ready, I need to plant flowers, and they pray and pray. And I can't wait for them. Father Vasily will see - he will step aside, and Father Feropont will stand for 40 minutes. I’ll just go for flowers, I’ll come, and they again pray at the grave.”

Optina Hermitage was returned to believers in units. On the territory of the monastery there was a branch of the Kaluga Museum of Local Lore, lay families lived. In the skete, in the cells of the elders, there were museums of Tolstoy and Dostoevsky.

Living in a monastery, the future martyr for Christ, continues to write Church Slavonic poetic texts. He calls them verses. From these first attempts, where the Church Slavonic language is not always correct, it is already clear that these are very promising works, created from the heart and inspired by faith in God. He had the undoubted talent of a church hymnographer. The phenomenon is very rare in the history of the Church. Igor Roslyakov was a monk for only 4 years, but even during this short period, what was written brought its original fruit. He writes: “From where do I receive tears, if not from you, God. Kamo I am coming on a day of sorrow, if not to your temple, Lord. He devotes a lot of his works to Optina Pustyn. On April 17, by order of the viceroy's father, he was moved from the skete to one of the fraternal buildings already in the monastery itself. By this time, the father governor understands that an educated, gifted novice has come to him and he is given other obediences. He is tonsured with the name Vasily - in honor of Basil the Great. And then, when they were tonsured as a hieromonk, in honor of St. Basil the Blessed. And the heavenly patron given to him at baptism is Igor, Prince of Chernigov. The icons of these three saints are constantly in his cell.

After ordination to the priesthood, the young monk begins to serve the liturgy and take confession. One pilgrim recalls: “When he began to serve, I came to the temple for the first time. There are many people here, but few here. I went up to Father Vasily. And I wasn't ready for confession. I don't know what to say, I don't have any particular sins. I want, I feel, but I don't know. Then Father Vasily began to ask her questions. “I answer quite cheerfully: to kill - I didn’t kill, to steal - I didn’t steal.” And when it turned out that I was not fasting, that I believed in the transmigration of souls, the priest put his head in his hands, leaned on the lectern and sighed so heavily that goosebumps ran down my back. Because I realized how upset he was and how worried about me. I understood the severity of my sins only by the reaction of the priest. What a difficult state he came from my sins.

Father Vasily took upon himself the sins of others. One of the monks recalled: “On the holiday I had an obedience associated with constant walking around the temple. And Father Vasily conducted a general confession. And from the words that I heard involuntarily as I passed by, I realized that the priest takes the sins of everyone who confesses to him onto himself. Then I thought, how are you going to die if you take on so many sins?”

Father Vasily served in Optina for 4 years. Easter is coming 1993. The Easter service ended at 5.30, and at 6 o'clock the service in the skete began, and Father Vasily had to take confession. One priest recalls that he was responsible for the schedule of Easter week that year. Batiushka glanced at the timetable at the last moment and realized that there were no priests in the skete for confession. He went to Father Vasily, but he seemed to be frightened and began to refuse. He went for obedience with the blessing of the viceroy's father.

Monks Feropont and Trofim went to ring the bell tower. Deafened by the joyful Easter bell, they did not hear the approach of the criminal coming towards them with a knife. Both monks were slaughtered right at the bell tower. Father Vasily at this time went to the skete. The criminal ran towards him. Before that, Father Basil heard the sound of the alarm, which the wounded monks managed to make, and realized that something had happened. He asked the person approaching him about this. The response was a knife blow. The wounded priest spent an hour in his native monastery, then an ambulance was called. Father Vasily died on the way to the hospital.

Despite the fact that the monks should also treat death calmly, as everything sent by God, their initial grief for the murdered monks was very heavy. And when Archimandrite John Krestyankin was informed at the Pskov-Pechersk monastery, he burst into tears.

The dead were buried on the territory of the monastery with their faces covered, as it should be with monks. During the funeral, the abbot said: “These were three angels. We did not know that angels live in our monastery.” Later, a chapel was built over the graves of the martyrs for Christ. Each of them had their own talent from God. Monk Feropont has a prayer, monk Trofim has love for people, Father Vasily has a word.

The whole life and death of Father Vasily, who grew up in the conditions of extreme isolation of the Church, once again proves that the Church of Christ is not a historical tradition, not an antiquity shop, not a social institution and not a cultural tradition, but the mystical body of Christ, in which the Holy Spirit lives, and who does whatever he wants. They are like examples to us, like a reproach to people who say: “They didn’t teach me in childhood, and I won’t do anything. It's your fault you didn't teach me." You need to make at least a small step yourself. The elders say: “We take a small step towards the Lord, and in response he comes towards us with open arms.”

Poems by Hieromonk Vasily (Roslyakov)

*****

Save me, God; for the righteous is gone,
for there are no faithful among the sons of men.

(Psalm 11)

Save me, Lord, now
For the faithful one has become poor,
For let the true go to the shrine
Decreased from the importance of things.

Everyone lies in the bustle out of habit
Even to your neighbors and relatives
And gives praise for propriety,
When the heart is filled with evil.

Destroy all wicked speech
And the sources of the Lord's flattery,
The tongue of man will be uprooted,
What is beautiful leads to death.

He will destroy those who affirm now:
“We are great, because the mouth is with us,
We will overpower the whole world with language!
Who is God to us today?

"For the sake of troubles, poverty, sighs
I will rise, the Lord says,
And put away from suffering
Keeping humility and shame."

Revelations are pure from heaven,
Like cast silver in a furnace:
Horn cleansed him with a week,
And the earth fell behind him ...

The wicked walk around me
That's what happens when
All the insignificant human race
Exalted by the power of sin.

*****

How long, Lord, will you forget me at the end,
how long will you hide your face from me?

(Psalm 12)

Oh Lord, how long will you
Everyone forget me and forget
Well, how much more are your eyes
Will they not respond to my views?

Well, how much can I comfort myself,
If the heart cries during the day and cries at night,
And how much I will curse my fate,
When you can't help yourself?

You, Lord, at least once look here,
Hear at least fragments of my words,
Explain to me the meaning of being,
Until I fell asleep last;

Until my friends told me
That I'm broken and exhausted,
Until the head bowed
For those who never loved me.

Well I hope for mercy and wait -
Pour it with life-giving rain.
Then I will sing about your love,
How I sing about Your name.

*****

I said I will watch my ways
not to sin with my tongue;
I will bridle my mouth as long as the wicked is before me.

(Psalm 38)

I said: I will be faithful to the words to the end -
I'll look after my unlucky life
And involuntarily he added: for everything that is slightly
I will answer with a silent nod.

I ended up mute on a crowded land,
Wordlessly looked at the drink of goodness,
And thoughts alone reigned in the soul,
And insane grief overcame me.

My heart is on fire with despair,
Thoughts lit up with an invisible fire,
And then in the sky I raised my face,
Starting to speak in another language:

Show me, Lord, my death,
Reveal also the number of prepared days,
Maybe I'm afraid of the fact that I live,
And no one will master my fear.

Open it up and then get away from me
So that the soul matures in earthly sorrow,
To strengthen me on the way of the cross,
Before I leave and I'm gone.

*****

Like a doe longs for streams of water,
so my soul longs for Thee, O God!

(Psalm 41)

Like a doe crouching with dry lips
In the midday heat to the blue key,
So I stand in front of the temple on Sunday
And as if from thirst, I bow.

The soul will dry up human disbelief,
Offering tears and blood to drink.
How not to stand before the church door,
Three times overshadowing the face with a cross.

How not to fall for the blackened icon,
If crying has become my bread,
If on occasion each drops:
Where is your God? - if you're not rich.

What worries me about the past
Swaddling my eyes with sadness,
Well, I repeat myself drunkenly
Those dispassionately dry psalms?

I'm just pouring out my soul
Tears interfering with the simple word.
So the waterfalls in the mountains are calling
The abyss will echo to the layers.

*****

God, we heard with our ears, our fathers told us about the case,
what You did in their days, in the days of old.

(Psalm 43)

We heard ourselves from our grandfathers,
And who left writing as a legacy,
About military deeds, about the prayers of the saints,
With which God glorified our land.

What miracles did he perform?
What sons he christened heroic!
Why are there only two novice,
Raised on monastic breadcrumbs.

God destroyed the busurman regiments,
Raised our banners over the oak forests,
Every warrior then praised,
Kissing the edges of the blackened icon.

He saw that he did not find the earth by force,
Not a strong squad, but a secret craft,
Then he went into battle with prayer,
Keeping the Orthodox Cross under the shirt.

But when the Latins came,
And grandfathers already read the Psalter on the ground,
Men did not go to the miraculous icon
And there they didn’t get up under the banners with a sword?

Whether we like it or not, God blesses us...
And I do not rely on the sword in battle,
In speeches not for the wisdom that he saved,
But only on our sign of the cross.

Let us glory in the Lord every day,
Let us glorify Him on all nights,
He served us bread without measure to the table
And sometimes even with a drink.

But now You have put us to shame to the end.
Why don't you walk around with our weapons? -
Shame and troubles we tasted in full,
Washed it all down with a familiar cup.

You have made us a parable in all languages.
Our shame is always before me.
And every night he knocks on the temples
And a blind shadow creeps around the house.

It all came down like a storm on us
And we were lost in earthly impassibility.
Our souls would be filled with road dirt,
Whenever they had the memory of God in them.

Whenever we forget your name,
And applauded someone else
Would we come out of this hell
With the same love for the human race?

But we are hated for the Name of Christ,
Seal swearing with the highest seal
And enter with laughter into the holy houses,
Finding those praying there for crucifixion.

Why do we need such cruel revenge?
Why do we cry so much?
Surely our enemies have nothing to eat,
And we hide bread from them in our bosoms?

Oh Lord, remember the old days
Repay our sorrows with holy grace,
Then we'll raise our banners
With double-headed eagle and Christ's Crucifix.

*****

Hear, O God, my cry, heed my prayer!

(Psalm 60)

Oh God, listen to my cries
Nobody else heard them.
Listen to my poetic prayer,
If I've been given inspiration.

From the very bottom of the ocean depths,
From the abyss of the night itself,
Where there is no echo, and I live alone,
I call with a simple rhyme.

When my heart is on fire,
Take me to the rock
On a mountain, on a stone, on something else,
Where can I not go myself.

With You I become like that giant,
That holds the whole sky with his shoulder,
With You I fly up like a young eagle,
Fog cutting through the wing.

You, O God, have heard my vows
And announced to me in silence
What gave me a legacy to sing about love,
About my sad side.

And you apply to amazing days
More amazing days
And too short lives for singers
Although it would be extended after death.

And I will sing to Your name,
While my shadow is on the ground
And I will stretch my lips to the cross
On Sundays and holidays.

*****

Only in God does my soul rest; from Him is my salvation.

(Psalm 61)

No matter how much the world I sang and praised,
If anything, he will forget me.
Because, against the current rules,
I trust in the Lord.

And what can I rely on in business,
If everything will be ashes and dust,
And immortality lives next door
In clumsy biblical words.

Settle on what inspiration? -
Disorder around and robbery.
Only for a while church singing
Gives me blissful peace.

Well, brothers, the evil law
You landed on my shoulders
And point with a sweet bow
My thoughts are in the loop.

Although every poet is touchy,
And it's easy to get along with him,
But until I am abandoned by God,
I will stand against this world.

And I will not get tired of asking the people,
Purify the heart from deceit.
And so that it was between us without deceit,
I promise to start with myself.

God said - and I heard twice -
What for everyone is a court of cases.
When my father died and one day
When he prepared himself for death.

*****

How good God is to Israel, to the pure in heart!

(Psalm 72)

It shuddered yesterday, it was, my heart,
And I lost faith in everything, it was, the soul -
I saw careless dashing life
And again he envied them behind the eyes.

They are never disturbed by sorrow and crying,
They are given greatness and audacity to death,
Their collection is cheered by bright red,
When people are half a step away from trouble.

Frankly, without fear, they always dissemble,
Hidden thoughts hiding their own,
And when they begin to scoff from above,
Their words are like a fountain of water.

This stream would rise to heaven,
And sparkling in the sun, and pleasing to the eye,
But she falls to the mighty earth
And he carries swamp mud everywhere.

And the people, having muddied springs through the forests,
He drinks this deadly water with greed,
He says: "How ignorant were the fathers,
Assuring that God gives us immortality.

And these crafty usurers
Welfare is praised above all else.
So in vain did I learn to love,
Purifying your heart from abomination?

So in vain I'm something on long nights
Turned the whole fate inside out
And he threw himself on hot cheeks,
And from conscience hid in a dark corner?

I would become guilty before the past of the earth,
If so reasoning, quarrelsomeness found
And I couldn't understand anything...
And, wandering, by chance he entered the church.

I saw, oh God, the end of this lie.
I sang on my knees Your greatness.
So let them tell fortunes about the fate of the earth,
You will judge her one day anyway.

*****

Why did God reject us forever?
Is Your anger kindled against the sheep of Your pasture?

(Psalm 73)

He began to turn into dashing need.

Remember the merit of the former princes,
In the rank of monastics who accepted death,
Remember the radiance of Russian churches,
What was announced on holidays firmament.

And walk the earth with us
With us, mourn our ruins.
See the bullet marks on the wall
The stone mossy from blood is hot.

Do you hear how loudly the crow cries
Near the graves of our saints,
How they break Your Crucifixion,
Stone signs instructing their?

We have hardened forever the lesson
With a terrible hydra and a right sword,
He cut the earth too bloody,
The groan sounded too desperate.

They wanted to destroy everything at once,
So that only ashes and fear reign ...
And then the altars were empty,
And the icons blazed in fires.

God, no one sees the signs
There is no prophet to see the souls.
There is no one with us now
Who would say how long it will endure.

God, you have established the universe,
The sun has set us as a sign,
Remember who blasphemed your name,
Who choked our brothers in the corners.

What have we done, God, wrong?
What have we forgotten to our misfortune?
You turned away, and every trifle
He began to turn into dashing need ...

***

Listen, my people, to my law,
incline your ear to the words of my mouth.

(Psalm 77)

You listen, Orthodox people,
My epic guslar speech,
Bow your mighty heads
Yes, stand with a thought, a long thought.
And to the common people and the boyars,
And princes, and God's servants
I will tell fortune-telling from antiquity,
I will remember the former with a little saying.
Only the mouth, it happens, teaches wisdom,
And sometimes only the heart advises us,
Because the tunes forgotten
I know my deep thoughts.

And to our grandchildren, new growth,
Continuation of the Christian race,
About the works and commandments of God,
About wonderful temples, about wizards
I will punish under the goose with three boxes,
To be passed on when they grow up
And to your whiny disobedients
And retold strictly
Protect yourself with holy prayer,
Yes, do not forget the precepts of grandfathers;
And not be like a tribe of infidels,
What with a stubborn and rebellious soul,
With a restless and unfaithful heart
Boasts about satanic deeds.

*****

God! the Gentiles have come into your inheritance;
they defiled your holy temple, they turned Jerusalem into ruins;

(Psalm 78)

Newcomers, God, have entered the heritage.
In the sanctuaries, as in the storerooms entered
And the great city, the capital of the earth,
They turned into a human food store.

For a century they appeased the crows,
Feeding him plenty of human eyes,
And there was a rather earthly beast,
Feeding on the holes of the bodies of the saints.

And so they fell in love with our land,
That they confused water with blood,
And for a long time it was slightly bitter
Grain, drunk with this love.

We've become the laughingstock of the world
We are silent and hide our eyes to the side.
But how much, O Lord, is Your heart
Will he still not hear his son's cry?

How much more do we have to pay?
On account of the sins of intoxicated fatherhood?
We are like a handful of ashes,
The wind that rushes into the field.

So that they do not repeat to us: where is your God? -
Take revenge on these miserly strangers yourself,
If only the humiliated could see,
If only the buried could hear.

Let the firmament tremble before the Lord
From all the sighs that have passed without a trace,
Then maybe we, doomed to death,
You will save invisibly with a wonderful Spirit.

*****

God! hear my prayer, and let my cry come to you.

(Psalm 101)

Teach me God
Count the bygone years.
Maybe then I will
At least a little smarter.
And then I will die
Compose sad songs
About earth, about love,
About his homeless fate.

I dreamed of going through life
With a burning soul,
Illuminating the paths
Ignite minds and hearts
But the soul, burning,
Disintegrated into warm ash
And the past has disappeared
Like smoke from a fire.

And now here I am with different thoughts,
Like a plague, infected
I forget about bread
And I'm full of sadness alone.
I left to the old woman with a scythe
Go to bow
To cut me to the root
Like a dry stem.

Why do I need a day
When with the radiance of it
I see more clearly
Ruins of our shrines.
I don't even need the night
I can't sleep anyway
Like a raven on the roof
I am sitting by the lamp alone.

So why are you, God,
He gave me the joy of knowledge,
Inspired
At my foolish whim,
Now I'm sorry
That he didn't save any money
And did not get honor for myself
And eulogies.

Spare me, my Lord,
For time has passed
For even the wicked
They began to remember sins -
Sighing about the past
The ruins appreciate it...
Teach me God
Count the bygone years.

*****

God! You tested me and you know.

(Psalm 139)

You tested me, God, and you know
You know everything that is inaccessible to me.
Often, probably, you forgive the doubt,
It is visible only to you.

Let me wander around the world anxiously
Let me hide in my home corner
You hug me like air
Offering His hand in sorrow.

I know - when I compose songs,
There is no word yet on a clean slate.
You see him with a wonderful insight,
Persistently pouring into my heart.

How much I rummaged in book cemeteries,
How many thoughts I changed my mind,
Yet, failing to comprehend inspiration,
I went to church to pray to you.

Wonderful to me is the mind of the firmament,
Wonderful glow of a distant star.
I saw the edge of earthly perfection -
The Word of God is wider than the earth.

Where can I hide from my soul?
Where will thoughts not overtake me?
I rushed through the universe like a bird -
She doesn't know this place.

If I say: "Maybe the darkness will hide me,
The night will be an impregnable wall for me,
The heart will immediately whine and howl,
Night illuminating chest longing.

Wonderfully I am created by the Divine Word:
As if woven from the fabric of the earth
With an intricate body pattern,
With a secret until the time light inside.

God test me. And tell
What is hidden behind my word.
With a book then I will leave conversations,
By the Spirit I will begin to learn the Saints.

*****

Yesterday I saw you
Yesterday I was talking to you,
And suddenly my death hour has come
And stopped the old meetings.

Come, my good ones,
Honor me before parting
The last sign of love
Last brotherly kiss.

I won't get along with you anymore
I will not say another word -
I aspire to the judgment of the Lord,
Where there is no earthly passion.

There is a servant and a master,
Rich man and beggar, king and warrior,
Everyone is equal there, there is only one court,
And everyone is waiting for what they deserve.

Deeds, deeds alone then,
They will arrange an eternal fate for us -
Or glorify forever
Or forever covered with shame ...

*****

The fear of the Lord is both pure and brave -
Remains forever, forever.
He will tell people about the truth,
That is why it is always justified.

His judgment is more desirable than gold,
More desirable than priceless stones,
Sweeter than the most amber drops,
That ooze from the hives of cracks.

This is all guarded by your servant,
All of this would be able to revive.
In observance of the bequeathed truth
There are great pledge rewards.

Who will see the guilt of sins,
Who penetrates himself to the end.
You are from my secret thoughts
Hold and cleanse me.

Take away at least a time of misfortune,
So that they do not harm me,
I will forget careless passions
Integrity I will raise up in my soul.

And let my words be honest
My thoughts are pure before You.
You, Lord, are the foundation of songs,
You, Lord, are the Redeemer of the people.

Psalm 18

Of Divine Glory Everywhere
Heaven's eyes are preaching
About the accomplishments of the Lord to people
The earth speaks frankly.

And knowing neither sleep nor rest,
Day by day will hand over all the cases.
And the night of the night, standing under the stars,
Retell what happened yesterday.

There are no such languages ​​and dialects,
Where their voice would not be remembered,
Starlight is heard everywhere
And a blazing sun verse.

Over the whole earth goes their sound,
To the limits of the universe it is.
And the Lord set for edification
In the face of the sun His dwelling.

And it comes out, getting married, -
Leaves his bridal chamber.
Playing with gigantic strength,
Rejoicing in the heights.

It will come out of the distance of heaven
And, having passed, he will wander into the distance,
And nothing is hidden by a veil
From his warmth and generosity.

Perfect law and immeasurable,
With which God renews people,
And faithful in his revelations,
Kohl puts children the wisest.

The commands of the Lord are right
They rejoice with the truth of the heart
And, like medicinal herbs,
Heals human eyes.

*****

Laugh - I can't anymore
Talk about life carelessly
I'll go to any icon
I'll light a cheap candle.

antique gold frame,
Close your eyes, kiss
From the words that came out of place
I will write a simple prayer.

And nothing that I stand
Intimidated by his own speech.
I'll go to another icon,
I'll light another candle.

*****

For a year of careless ordeal
I grew up as if suddenly:
Didn't take the latest drugs
And just looked around.

I've grown up. And not for years
But an immaterial soul
For all those who honor the truth with their lips,
And he closed his heart with silence.

For everyone running without looking back
And the right only from blindness,
For all those who have not been in a fight
And those who did not love the salt of the earth ...

How everything is not worldly fast
It sat on the bulk of the shoulders ...
Well, they said I'm broad-shouldered, -
And why take care of yourself?

*****

How close is the flowering time?
Golden autumn foliage
This is how inspiration comes to me.
From the distant forest side.

It enters the city in the morning
With a round dance of winds and rains
And finds me without error
Among hordes of cars and people.

If I wander in a noisy subway,
That it is a golden arrow
Penetrates through the earth
And becomes next to me.

And this will happen with the soul,
What can I say, no one will believe it.
Free birds envy me
For its radiance and lightness.

I then become for a moment
Not from this world silent,
A piece of ethereal poetry -
Serves as bread and drink.

And then it costs me nothing
Drop everything and go to the monastery,
And hide in cell rest,
As in a casket, the expanse of heaven.

*****

When the daily fear of life is gone,
And the evening will sip in silence,
I'm sitting on a bench up to my ears in dreams
And I see only golden autumn.

And in the evening her shine does not fade -
Everything seems in the bright moonlight:
Birches sketched near the stones
Rustling gold coins.

And so that the evil wind does not descend,
I didn’t throw them into the puddles with dirty rubbish,
Bear, like a watchdog,
Frozen over the kindergarten fence.

And silence leads me to my heart,
And the night - to the inexplicable beginning,
And I see how without the sun and without stars
The earth was once dark.

And the first day of existence is seen:
The earth was formless and empty
And only darkness differed from the abyss,
And the Spirit alone hovered over the water.

The earth was not darker because
That there was neither day nor night,
But he just didn’t turn yellow on her yet
Birch patterned leaf.

autumn waves

Eyes made friends with the white ceiling
And the branches of the hands grew together behind the head.
Already forty days and snow and rain
The autumn spirit fights the earth.

Close your eyes - and remember easily
Autumn smell of maples and birches.
And then everything pours and pours water through the window,
Yes, the neighbor's dog howls behind the wall.

The heavens are angry with the earth -
It doesn't matter to them what century it is.
Like old Noah, I look around
The ark destined for salvation.

The time has come to prepare for the flood.
And I calmed down, remembered all the sins.
My wooden floor creaks
I probably won't make it to winter.

But maybe autumn land
And this flood will overcome
And the white dove in the morning
Bring me an olive branch.

*****

When I understand another
A little more than half
When earthly existence
I'll get a good reason

When all grave sins
I will commit in a carefree life
And I'll tell you where to go
To my weeping homeland;

When you need
My verse will seem indistinct,
And the time on any clock
Set up for reverse

I suddenly live
A moment of free rest
And somehow I will die happily
At a crowded intersection - standing.

About the grave cross

And somewhere, I don't know where,
But somewhere on the same earth
There is one tall pine tree
And thinks about me at night.

And something, really, I don’t know what,
But something very important
She tries to tell me everything
Yes, the branch is not easy to get me.

And why I don’t know, along the trunk,
Like a woman's tear
Silent resin flows
And a drop freezes amber.

And somewhere on that pine bark,
which I touched in a dream,
Visible whitish scars
Then my arms were cut out.

***

That night is one of all nights.
Everything about it is fabulous and simple:
Trees, stars and snow
The road, the church near the churchyard.

They say that God is with us
Inhales this dense cold
And hears how the night chamber
Creaks under a furious gait.

They say that God is with us
Looks like the moon is mischievous,
As he bowed his salutary horn,
And living moisture pours from the sky.

Look around: the night is speaking.
And so you will see Him near,
What will you rub your cheeks,
Not believing in my own opinion.

And next to it is not a noisy courtyard,
Not village backyards
Where is the ancient watchman so far
Smokes twists of shag.

The desert region is crowned with the whole
Snow and the star of January.
Not a corner, but a heart here
Silent earthly kingdom.

Such a night touches the eyes
To something will make involved,
And it's good for at least an hour.
Somewhere close, close happiness.

"In the beginning was the Word..."

Dedicated to Father Raphael

I'm crying for the first time. Who could understand?
Who would make these tears with words?
What does it mean: to live, always go forward,
When did I leave everything behind?

How to get out of a locked door
And how not to kiss the threshold now,
When from here only take away, but not let in
All roads could.

I saw what I lost forever
Blessed are those who will later be told
They may or may not believe
And throw off the bitter load from the heart.

And the first how to be: I saw the light,
And the darkness did not overthrow him, did not embrace him.
And how can I, even after hundreds of years,
Tell yourself that it seemed

For everything, I myself am to blame for the first time,
Let me cry, I will be able to
Let not drop by drop, let it be like a waterfall,
All grief from the soul to the ground will rush.

For a while, let it drown out the pain in me,
So that I don't know what these tears mean
So that I, like a dog, yearning in the dark,
At least the sun began to rejoice.

But no, I'll put my face in my palm.
What a pity that I do not foresee something.
I understand, looking back over my shoulder,
That I am humiliated to the dust with pride.

My sorrow cannot be conveyed to another,
She is in the soul like a long burning wind,
And I don't seem to get up off my knees
And these tears wiped my cheeks into blood.

And what now: only he could help,
He would uproot the bitterness of the heart,
What does it mean: to live, always go forward -
When did I leave everything behind?

*****

What does it take to be believed
In a word so simple to me
After all, the truth was not measured with a ruler
And sometimes I am right too.

To teach fellow rivals
How and what do they need to prove.
If they do not make theorems from feelings,
Their logical connection is broken.

To be imbued with the same and listen,
Maybe make a scourge out of talent,
Stun them with a philosopher's stone
Or turn your head with glory,

Or suggest such a vague
Anything for anything exchange
Or finally end up in a fight
This brain drain.

How can we agree with each other?
And make one thing
So that thoughts do not wander around,
From fights to whining.

Do not hear in the thoughts of the offspring,
Not to be seen in the direction of the trace.
Maybe it's just for today
Maybe this is what happens...

I only remember, in the hour of head heat
Job said, making excuses in vain:
"You stand up for me before you -
Otherwise, who is the guarantee for me ... "

*****

Events lined up without haste in order,
The last Thursday before Easter subsided,
The night extinguished the remnants of blackness
sunset fire, and the day faded.

And the city seemed to bend down in silence
And appeared hunched before the stars,
Up towers and walls stretched
A moonlit Jewish temple.

He was afraid of an imminent libel,
And a house where they could eat Easter.
He ordered to find two only by signs:
Passer-by at the gate, a jug of water.

Everything went smoothly, as if by chance
There was also a furnished room and a table,
And the evening intertwined with an eternal mystery...
With twelve He quietly entered the house ...

And the sacrament was given in remembrance:
A cup of wine, broken bread for them,
So that everyone in the predicted wanderings
He did not forget whose disciple he became.

They couldn't understand, no matter how hard they tried,
And only hoped: the cherished hour would come.
From strange words, disputes suddenly flared up:
Who is more and why are there so few of us.

He waited for the noise to stop
Said, "Simon, behold Satan asked,
To sow you everywhere like wheat,
I prayed for you."

*****

Nettle taller than me
Grows near the walls of the monastery.
Only on an abandoned graveyard
This is how the seeds germinate.

Only in places of past glory,
Among the aging shrines
Herbs grow like this...
Nettle and even wormwood.

*****

Father Raphael

I would find hard words
About life, about the coldness of the grave,
And my speech would be so bitter
I wouldn't say half of it.

But I want to cry in silence
And go out into the world with bright eyes.
Who rushed through the earth like lightning,
He is clothed with light under heaven.

*****

When the soul mourns to death
And there's no one around you
So heavy is the pectoral cross,
That I wear it a little alive.

Then I, weak and orphan,
Even though I'm not even thirty
leafing through a small book
I am looking for a remedy for longing in it.

And in it - once a respectable husband
I calmly walked home from the fields,
And suddenly - towards God bent
With His last burden.

The cross carries shame on the mountain,
It falls, then it rises again
Mixing blood with road rubbish,
And do not blame the people for anything.

So terrible was that path of exile,
That the man bowed his head before Him.
The guard noticed compassion
And he gave him the cross to carry.

And he did. But on the rise
I fell and couldn't get up...
He woke up with a terrible thunder,
When the crucified God died.

And all that he remembered about life,
What became the most expensive -
That path of spitting and reproach,
When the Lord was with him.

And I? What comes to my mind
When does sadness knock you down?
Village of a distant parish
And the night of Christmas.

*****

What a worldly sweetness
Sadness does not hide in itself?
What boundless joy
How does sleep not pass in the soul?

And nothing is without damage
All the shadow of the heavenly beauties.
Everyone is waiting for Sunday from the dead
Christ the Comforter awaits.

*****

The face of the moon was bright and radiant,
Night peace came to the monastery.
Suddenly some local harmonist
He pressed the keys with his hand.

His melody was familiar and simple,
And there was such love in him,
What I left a midnight post
I left the gates of the monastery.

I got up in the middle of an empty path,
And my eyes burned with tears.
God, how like your voice
This lonely call of love.

*****

Joseph came with Nicodemus,
When hope has died
And the Mother wept over her Son
At the base of the Cross.

Not for greatness and power
They hastened to Christ,
Come to mourn your happiness
That the darkness hid at the sixth hour.

He was so little
Hidden from evil eyes.
And now the shroud covered
prophesying the burial hour.

But the veil in the church was torn,
The veil of their heart anguish.
And they wept over the dead,
Washing the blood from the purest hands.

*****

I will not make bright discoveries,
I can't arouse interest.
I pity the beaten boys
And I love the fading forest.

***

І

Give, Psalmist, harp to me!
Give me your strings and organs,
So that I sing to match you
Selfless psalms.

Put, saint, in my mouth
The language of your humble songs
A language that contains words
Which the world is small.

Give me your words, David.
They are like a grieving soul,
Like a fiery sun
Like a burning censer.

What will I bring and what will I give
To you, humble abode,
Your graves and crosses
Whom am I now a servant of?

I will bring psalms and songs
To you, blessed desert.
I will take the cup of salvation
And I will call on the name of the Lord.

ІІ

Give, Psalmist, harp to me!
Give me your strings and organs,
So that I sing after you
Selfless psalms.

What is art and poetry to me,
What a gift of unexpected inspiration
When the soul is full
One line of a psalm?

What will I bring and what will I repay
To you, ancient abode,
Your graves and crosses
Whom am I now a servant of?

Your soul has already been given.
Take the body, if you like.
Accept all that which is from the Creator,
Endowed by God among others.

I will put a filial bow
To you, blessed desert.
I will take the cup of salvation
And I will call on the name of the Lord.

ІІІ

Give, Psalmist, harp to me!
Give me your strings and organs,
So that I sing to match you
Selfless psalms.

Poor ink and pen!
And rhymes are futile inspiration.
David, let me sing
Sing about the most secret.

Give me your words David
They are like a grieving soul!
So the sun's fiery sight
A bit like a burning candle.

And my inspired verse is cold.
Give your heart a contrite voice.

IV

What did the monk take for poetry,
Or is the psalter not enough for you?
Or a gospel line
Not enough hot tears?

I don't know why the words
Poems poured out of the heart,
After all, I did not fill it
And grace, and tears.

“God save my Motherland…”

God, save my dear Motherland,
Give her counselors to her great heart,
Arm her with peaceful force,
Cover the fields with bread when they are compressed.

Drink her rivers from heaven,
The sea of ​​azure moisture is pure,
Into the wilds of the burnt land of the flat
Bring the golden pine with the wind,

For a long time they bloodied the native of the innocent,
Mournfully, crosses rose along the outskirts,
Flax-haired Aveli bent her,
The law of death is made by Cain,

But until the end, its edge was not plundered,
Whole treasure pleasing to God,
Saints protected from trouble,
Bright wells of the sea of ​​the people.

To know mothers of inconsolable prayers,
Burning tears, hearty groans,
Night brought to unearthly villages.
To believe in Your bounties be finite,

You looked down from the Throne at the Universe
The earth saw a small pea,
Russia, the state - a humble widow,
The robe of the humble from the blood is all scarlet.

You took pity on the sufferings of the cross,
Happiness sprout planted over the grave,
God, fill her with wonderful dreams,
God, console my Motherland, dear ...

Holy Russia

Holy Russia did not endure

She sang herself an akathist of love
For faith, for the fatherland, for kings.

For the blue of the lakes, for the winds of inspiration,
For the mercy of the Creator who called,
For the sweet prayer of ecstasy
In the wilderness of the forest monk monk.

For the bright sadness of the wedding icons,
For the riot of herbs and the meekness of the sages,
For the ringing of their farewell bells
And the eternal love of the holy fathers.

Oh, Russia, my fate is the reason,
A mother who torments her children,
Holy Russia hope and death,
Blind Russia rushing back.

You deceived, sorry, and dear,
I will sing you once again
Undressed, undressed, deaf and dumb,
They shoot, torture, throw in the dirt.

Oh, Russia, my become the Highest bride,
Ascend to the Cross by the abode of love,
And there on it in prayer for us sinners
With the Bride of the Unbrided, pray.

Holy Russia did not endure
And was resolved by the burden of sorrows,
She sang herself an akathist of love
For faith, for the fatherland, for kings ...

Russia

Mother Russia ancient gray-haired,
How to bless your destiny?
Enemies rejoice - tormenting
Orthodox faith purity.

Evil shadows circle over you
Century after century in the fatal dance
The forces of darkness pass in a drunken formation:
False prophets, demons, robbery.

Death of saints, destroyed temples,
Tears of widows and begging of orphans,
Again and again you are pushed into the hole
Like a murderer in a prison.

But you stand on the envy of the villains,
The Orthodox faith is strong.
Russia burns with fire, does not smolder with smoke
Sow the word of God in hearts.

And for a century with Russia our souls,
We are one now and forever
Righteous faith will not be silenced,
The light will not eclipse the holy prophets.

Mother Russia ancient gray-haired,
How to bless your destiny?
Enemies rejoice - tormenting
Orthodox faith purity.

How much coffee would you like to bring, the nun asked. “Ten cups,” replied Father Vasily. “There are six of us plus guardian angels ...” Here humor is always mixed with high truths and you don’t understand when he is a joker and when he is a seer. Father Vasily Pasquier, abbot of the Holy Trinity Monastery in Cheboksary, a "Russian", and at the same time a "Chuvash" Frenchman, has been living in Russia for 22 years.

Barefoot to God

Why did you end up in Russia? Views are cultivated on it in Europe, as on a second-hand, backward, catching up ...

Father Vasily Pasquier: What is Russia, a wild country? Come on. Russia is a great country. This is the Wild West - it's not for nothing that they say "in the Wild West" - especially now, when they forget their Christian roots. This forgetfulness will breed decay. And Russia ... It was already considered destroyed in the 90s, but the weeded grass has deep roots ...

So you chose without suffering?

Father Vasily Pasquier: It's just that the Lord unexpectedly pushed me to Russia. The Orthodox faith brought me here.

And when did you realize that you would turn to Orthodoxy?

Father Vasily Pasquier: I grew up in a Catholic family. At the age of 15 - as without it - he went through a crisis: he wanted to play football, and not go to church. Imagine a French village in the Vendée, in the center a church with high, very beautiful bell towers, and every 15 minutes they ring - at an early service with one ring, at a late one with another, at a wedding or baptism with a third. Opposite the church is a place where men gather before the service, in those days everyone went to the service ... And after the service everyone in the bistro - to talk. And dad too. By the way, this is a good service for the priest, to talk with people after the service. Well, there were, of course, those who immediately went to the bistro - football players, players at the races. And I remember standing on this square at the age of 15 and asking myself: where should I go? At one time he already went “to the left”, towards football. But that day, he went to the temple anyway. And you know, it was SUCH a day! Easter, stained-glass windows shine in the sun, light, Easter hymns ... And that's all, after that I already stayed in the church. He began to go to work, even when no one went. On weekdays - after school ... But the service, of course, is not ours, Orthodox, but "dry" - 30 minutes and that's it. It even got boring sometimes - I'm only a grandmother. Then I began to read your Russian theological books. And walk barefoot. Even in winter.

Did you do feats?

Father Vasily Pasquier: Well, I don’t know, it’s important for a young person to be different from others. And I was so different. I studied, of course, at a religious school, with nuns, everything was fine with moral education. But the theological thirst remained. And after school I worked a little, bought a backpack and a tent for my first salary, said goodbye to my relatives and went south. There he ended up in his future monastery, but for the time being a Christian community. They lived together as one family, on a common salary.

How did the family take it?

Father Vasily Pasquier: The father is strongly negative. I considered all this a gamble, I was sure that I could not stand it, and I did not come to the tonsure. And my sister, who raised us after my mother's death, came and supported me.

The priest in our community was a Catholic, but he studied at the university in Thessaloniki, and we served according to the Eastern rite ... And when we founded the monastery, we found a canonical refuge for ourselves among the Greek Catholics. These are not Ukrainian Uniates, but Jerusalem Greek Catholics - the Melkite Church. We were accepted into it as a French community. And a little freed from the direct jurisdiction of Rome. We didn't want to obey him.

Because of the specifics of administration?

Father Vasily Pasquier: I would say that for theological reasons too.

And now I am a Catholic of the Eastern rite, I live in Jerusalem, in the Holy Land, I read Orthodox books. And first of all, the books of the Russian intelligentsia, who went to us to the West - Evdokimov, Lossky, Berdyaev. And reading, I come to the conclusion that THERE - in Orthodoxy - is the real faith.

The Russians have come

Father Vasily Pasquier: And then, in the 90s, a large emigrant wave from Russia flooded into Jerusalem - in a year and a half, half a million people. They began to speak Russian around, in the shops the price tags were in Russian, newspapers were published. And every Shabbat, many "Russians" began to come to our monastery, who did not adapt to the orthodox Jewish rules and wanted to get to know their new country. Our monastery (here, according to legend, St. John the Baptist and his mother hid from persecution) was located in a unique oasis - water, pool, birds. The "Russians" liked us. And all of them, despite the fact that they themselves had fled, repeated in one voice, "Father Vasily, you need to go to Russia. She is for you."

And then not only curious emigrants, but also pilgrims from Russia appeared. White hoods flickered. This is how I met the future Patriarch Alexy II, then Metropolitan of Leningrad. And in 1992, he met with Father Jerome (Archimandrite Jerome Shurygin (1952-2013)), the abbot of the Holy Trinity Monastery in the city of Alatyr, a hieromonk known for his spirituality and senile experience, who in great sorrow fed many believers, including the author of this interview . - Approx. ed.). He arrived as a pilgrim with a monastic delegation from Athos. For Catholics it was already Easter, and for Orthodox it was Holy Week. Well, I treated him like a hotel guest, which is customary in the East - fruits, tea. Father Jerome - young, thin, snub-nosed - kept trying to tell me something in French, he taught it at school ... I only remember "more-more-more." His appearance was something special. And I found something in it. Something interesting.

And then I got to the Orthodox Easter service in Jerusalem in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. And I started a double life. One - physical - I lived in a Greek Catholic monastery, and the second - with my heart, mind - in Orthodoxy. All the time I went to the Orthodox service. My bosses allowed me on the condition that at 5 am I should be at my service. And on Saturday evening, after 8, when Shabbat ends and buses begin to operate, I get to Jerusalem, wait for the Church of the Holy Sepulcher to be opened at midnight, stand at the service until 3 in the morning, and then back. Sometimes 15 km on foot. The nuns from the Gornensky Monastery - they already recognized me and fell in love - gave me a lift if there was a place in the car ...

And besides, I soon became a kind of missionary among the "Russian" Israelis who came to us. Somehow a young family arrived - a husband from Perm, a mathematician from a family of mathematicians, such a smart Jew, and his wife - from the south, Kuban. And he says to me: and my wife is Orthodox, baptized, but not churched. And I think: "Thanks for the information, now I'll start working with it." Natasha, I say, let me take you to the Orthodox service for Easter... I did. At the service he said: go to the priest and confess. Batiushka confessed her and - although she did not fast, but at special moments it is possible - allowed her to Communion. She came after Communion - such an aura over her. And my husband did not sleep all night, he knew that we were in the temple, but he did not think that the service would be so long. I saw her home, our monastery was nearby... Natasha is so happy, contented! Her talented husband did not find himself in Israel, and they left for Italy, and then - according to his dream - to America. He was a big admirer of the young Clinton, it was all funny to me. They got a little comfortable there, Natasha gave birth to a son and died. Recently.

Is there a conflict in the community?

Father Vasily Pasquier: When our brethren and abbot began to feel that they were losing me, they began to forbid me to travel to Jerusalem and communicate with the Orthodox. Well, I went to Father Jerome, and he told me: I can’t do anything here, next year I’ll return to Russia and take you with me.

Okay, I guess I'll wait. But the double life became more and more unbearable. The community was just going through a crisis moment - the abbot was under strong pressure from Rome so that we would abandon the Eastern rite. I said "No way!" and one day, when it was really bad, I realized that I could no longer. He went to the Gornensky Monastery, where Fr. Jerome. He said: okay, since he made a decision, tomorrow we will go to the Patriarch. Patriarch Diodorus approved my choice. But - in order to avoid conflicts with other confessions, Jerusalem is a small city - he said: it is better THERE, to Russian Orthodoxy.

The secretary of the ROC mission in Jerusalem, Hieromonk Mark (now Archbishop of Yegorievsk), translated and took with him to Moscow my request to transfer to the ROC. And Father Jerome and I cleaned the sewers at Mother George in the Gornensky Monastery, repaired the roof, did everything that women cannot do. Hard or dirty work is not a problem for me, for Fr. Jerome too.

An answer came from Moscow, but the head of the mission, Metropolitan Theodosius, having learned that my letter had been handed over without his knowledge, became furious and put it under a cloth. Everything hung.

What should I do? I don't even have money for a ticket to Moscow. And I fled to France to look for work. My brother, an old furniture restorer, took me in, he had a lot of orders just before Christmas. Father said, "Well, that's what I thought." And I told him: “Dad, I didn’t return to the world, I’m leaving for Russia.” "K-ah-ah-k?!" - "Orthodoxy to accept." And it was October 1993, TV reports about Russian anarchy.

One way ticket

Father Vasily Pasquier: I restore furniture, but there is still no answer and no. The representative of the Moscow Patriarchate in France, Bishop Guriy was a man of the Soviet approach to business, he avoided problems and visitors. The answering machine on his phone answered me every time: leave your coordinates, we will call you back. But, of course, if we consider it necessary. I eventually found his apartment, took advantage when someone was leaving, and went into the house. I caught Vladyka and the hierodeacon in civilian clothes carrying a huge TV set that they had bought somewhere in Italy up a narrow staircase. He explained: now I want to convert to Orthodoxy, I wrote a letter to the Patriarch ... Vladyka Guriy laughed at me: "Do you want to meet the Patriarch himself ?!" And he advised me to go first to Russia as a tourist, having bought a round-trip ticket. I was offended: "If I buy a ticket, then only there! And I need a meeting with the Patriarch." He laughed again. And I told him: "And if it's from God?"

And having bought a one-way ticket, he left for Russia.

Friends from Jerusalem recommended me to Fr. Georgy Kochetkov, I was met by his people at Sheremetyevo, brought to some terrible room with old linoleum and cockroaches, laid on a folding bed. The atmosphere that I saw in Fr. George, I didn’t like it, seemed “charismatic”, I thought: “Have I really got into what I was running from?” In general, he was not in his element. I called one friend, and she told me: "Father Vasily, get out of there right now!"

She was the regent in the church of St. Nicholas in Pyzhy, near Fr. Alexandra Shargunova. Father Alexander spoke excellent French, and everything worked out fine.

But everything is for me - and about. John Krestyankin, and Father Nikolai from the island of Zalita, and Lyubochka Blessed (I met them in the first months in Russia), repeated: only to the Patriarch. Father John Krestyankin, blessing me, even said to the student accompanying me: go to the day of the enthronement of the Patriarch and tell him that this is a gift from me to him. We went to the service, and I kept repeating to the student: “Don’t forget to say about the “gift.” Everything ended well, His Holiness carefully examined the letter and organized my passage. him: and this is not the first time I have served with the Patriarch himself.

How did you get to Chuvashia?

Father Vasily Pasquier: At first I carried out monastic obedience in the Pskov-Caves Monastery and waited for Fr. Jerome. Well, since he told me: "I'll take you with me ..." He came, took me, and we went to His Holiness to ask for a transfer to the Chuvash land, because both knew Vladyka Barnabas well from the Holy Land. His Holiness approved the translation of Fr. Jerome and asks me: "And you?" And I know only three words in Russian - "how is he", "where is he".

Sins on paper

You have extensive pastoral experience; you have served in a monastery, in a rural church, in a city church, in the 20th century and in the 21st. Is the spiritual life of a person changing?

Father Vasily Pasquier: The most important thing that is happening now, people come to the idea: we must go to God, to spiritual life. And to the church, because the church is a place where you can meet God.

And so, well, what is changing ... The same sins. And the people are the same. Although they come to the realization of their sins - and this is a big change. People often don't know anything about sins. Understanding your sins is difficult. Now many come to confession with such pieces of paper. I never understand what is written there. I say: all these "sins of yours on a piece of paper" are like trees behind which one cannot see the forest, well, them. Come on, tell me about yourself. We deceive ourselves in confessions in these paper transfers. And we write down on a piece of paper not the most important. I often see how people cover up a big sin, fall asleep with small, small ones. And I - fu-fu-fu - blow off these covers. And now, here it is, your sin. If people go to God, to church, I must help the person who comes to see himself.

Do you have a favorite French and Russian saying?

Father Vasily Pasquier: In both French and Russian, I often repeat "everything is relative." Only God is absolute. Especially if I see that people are categorical.

All our human rules are relative. And God gave them to us not for their own sake, but to make it easier for us to improve. Oh those rules! The priests all the time want to impose penances on people of modern life, as in the 4th century. I say: when Basil the Great wrote these rules, the world was different. He did not know what the Internet, an airplane was... And already Theodore the Studite in the 8th-9th centuries proposed to excommunicate from Communion for a different period than Basil the Great, because times have changed. And we would do well to take this into account. Of course, it is impossible, as the reformers - phew, and everyone dared. But it is necessary, not forgetting the old rules, to see what suits each person. Without forgetting the traditions, follow them wisely. There must be discretion in everything.

Father, say one last thing.

Father Vasily Pasquier: Recently there was a feast of one great Russian saint - I read his life in French 40 years ago - Seraphim of Sarov. He said that the goal of the Christian life is to acquire the grace of the Holy Spirit. And I think this is a thread that should be stretched through our whole life. Not following the rules, but this.

One of the desert fathers, when asked before his death about the fear of God, said: "I no longer fear God, I love him." Fear gives rise to fear of the rules, the law, and love gets rid of them. Love has no rules. And it should be embroidered with red thread in our life. Well, how do you like the wine?

Strong.

Father Vasily Pasquier: Well, how strong. Coke is stronger...

Well, come again.

Return to the roots

German Federal Chancellor Angela Merkel, answering a question about the danger of Islamic fundamentalism for Europe during a speech at the University of Bern in Switzerland, expressed her hope that the inhabitants of the Old World will return to religious practices. The discussion about the danger of radical religious views should, in her opinion, turn the inhabitants of the Old World to their own roots, including religious ones. "I would like to see more people who dare to say, 'I am a Christian', more who are brave enough to have a dialogue," the chancellor said, emphasizing that she supports the freedom of religion guaranteed by the German Constitution.

Help "RG"

Archimandrite Vasily Pasquier (Pierre Marie Daniel Pasquier) was born in 1958 in Cholet, France. In 1978 he entered the Greek Catholic community in the south of France, in 1980 he took monastic vows with the name Vasily. He studied at the Theological School at the monastery of St. John the Baptist in the Desert (with a course in philosophy) and at the Orthodox Theological Institute. St. Sergius of Radonezh in Paris. Since 1980, he had a desire to become Orthodox. In 1993, Patriarch Alexy II of Moscow and All Russia was accepted into communion with the Russian Orthodox Church. In 1994, with the blessing of the Patriarch, he arrived in the Cheboksary-Chuvash diocese. He contributed much to the revival of cultural and spiritual life in Alatyr. Honorary member of the city of Alatyr. Chairman of the Diocesan Commission for the Canonization of Saints.

Direct speech

French experience in Alatyr

Father Vasily Pasquier:

In Alatyr, there was such a fashion among church women to come to the monastery and ask the priest to divorce her from her husband. He is a drunkard, does not understand anything, does not allow to follow the church charter. But most importantly, according to the rules of fasting, abstinence from husbands is necessary, and she requires abstinence from an unbelieving husband. And he, of course, disagrees. And here she is in confession to me: "It's impossible, he makes me sin!" And I say to her: “So what. Be patient. Your husband has the right to this. Honor the Apostle Paul - abstinence must be in agreement. And if the husband is not churched, well, be patient, pray and keep in mind, the husband is still the head. Yes, it is clear that this is a sin. Well, repent, take a penance from the priest, but you don’t need to get divorced. She - further: "He arranges scandals for me when he is drunk." I say: "Don't you tell him?" For a Christian woman, if her husband comes home drunk, don't yell at him. You are smart women, don’t you understand that it’s not profitable to shout: he will immediately raise his voice in response. And, God forbid, it will hit again. Better like this: "Oh, my dear, oh, how tired you are, lie down on the sofa" ... Let him sleep, and in the morning put cucumber pickle next to him. Let him know that you understand: he is sick. And he will have a completely different attitude towards you. He will be surprised - oh, what a wife I have. And he will ask himself: what is this power that gives her such patience? And slowly, perhaps, he will come to your faith. And if you are waiting for him with a stick, he will also ask: what kind of faith does she have? Divorced due to infidelity, when the husband left for another. And just because the husband drinks - it makes no sense. Patience is needed. A believing wife will save an unbelieving husband.

Meanwhile

The younger brother of Vasily Pasquier organized an Orthodox parish in his homeland. In 2006, he came to Chuvashia to visit his brother with a family of 6 people. Returning to France, a few months later he converted to Orthodoxy. “I found an unused room at the Catholic church, put up an iconostasis, a table, and an Orthodox priest comes there from Paris once a month to serve the Liturgy,” says Father Vasily. 100 km It's not easy to be Orthodox in the West, especially if you don't have your own church."

Presentation

The book of Patriarch Kirill presented in the Vatican

In the Vatican, on the territory of the Teutonic College named after Pope Benedict XVI, the presentation of the book translated into Italian by Patriarch Kirill of Moscow and All Russia "The Word of the Shepherd. God and Man. The History of Salvation" was held.

The book is based on a series of conversations with which Patriarch Kirill, during his tenure as Metropolitan of Smolensk and Kaliningrad, spoke on a television program from 1994 to 1996. In Russian, the book "The Word of the Shepherd. God and Man. The History of Salvation" was published in 2004. The Italian version was published by the Vatican Publishing House with the assistance of the Roman Academy Sapientia et Scientia, which for many years has been acquainting the Italian audience with the works of Russian theologians and philosophers.

Presenting the "Word of the Shepherd" within the walls of the Vatican, the head of the Department for External Church Relations of the Moscow Patriarchate, Metropolitan Hilarion of Volokolamsk, emphasized that this book tells about faith "in simple language." "A living voice is heard in it. Patriarch Kirill reads the Gospel not through the eyes of a scholar, but through the eyes of a man who has dedicated his whole life to the Church, through the eyes of a pastor," Metropolitan Hilarion said, adding that "the voice of Jesus Christ himself" is also heard in the book.

Vladyka also expressed confidence that the publication of this book in the Apennines would be another step towards rapprochement between the two Churches. “I have no doubt that this book will gain many readers and admirers not only in Italy, but also wherever they read in Italian. Because although it was written by a Russian person and reflects Russian experience, what the Patriarch is talking about has global significance," said Metropolitan Hilarion.

Metropolitan Hilarion arrived in Rome from Milan, where he met with the Archbishop of Milan, Cardinal Angelo Scola. According to Hilarion, this meeting was a reflection of "good relations between the Russian Orthodox and Catholic Churches" developing in various directions. "The path of brotherhood must continue," the metropolitan stressed, speaking about a possible meeting between the Pope of Rome and the Patriarch of Moscow "in the near future, but in a "neutral country."

Prepared by Niva Mirakyan, Rossiyskaya Gazeta, Rome

Catholic Pierre Marie Daniel Pasquier was tonsured in 1980 with the name Basil (Basil). He lived in the Uniate monastery of St. John the Hermit in Jerusalem, where pilgrims from Russia often stopped. Acquaintance with them largely determined his conversion to the Orthodox faith. In 1994 Hierodeacon VASILY joined Orthodoxy in Moscow. In 1995 he was ordained a hieromonk. In the summer of 1996 he was appointed Dean of the Holy Trinity Monastery in Alatyr. Then for five years he was the confessor of the local Kiev-Nikolaev Novodevichy Convent. Two years ago Fr. Vasily became the rector of the hospital church in honor of the Iberian Icon of the Mother of God. He teaches an elective in French at a city school. In 1998, Fr. Vasily finally managed to obtain Russian citizenship. At a meeting of the Holy Synod on December 25, 2009, he was appointed to the post of abbot of the Holy Trinity Monastery in Cheboksary

Victoria aunt Zina

Zinaida (Aunt Zina) has been retired for twelve years now. She left early, at the age of fifty, as she worked in a hazardous industry: she filled relays with resin at a relay factory. But at home it turned out to be boring: relatives rarely came, girlfriends too. One was an outlet - a dacha. In the garden, Aunt Zina grew cucumbers, onions, victoria (as they call garden strawberries here), etc. I went to the forest, then twisted jars of mushrooms, cooked strawberry jam. It turned out so much that a friend advised: “We are restoring a new church, the men work there, they need to be fed. Would you mind sharing your supplies? Aunt Zina shared it once, twice, and - she remained to work in the parish kitchen. “When I first came here,” she says, “it was like after the bombing: the walls are all upholstered, there is no floor, there are pits. The scaffolding is standing."

And then she was assigned a responsible task - to walk around the city with a mug and collect money for the temple. In one market day, it was possible to collect a thousand rubles. “People are different. Sometimes they come up: “Why are you standing? Are you going to buy a new Mercedes for Father?”

Nun Angelina was tonsured at the Holy Trinity Monastery, and then became a resident of one of the women's monasteries in Tver. Soon her knees hurt, and she was sent back to Alatyr to her relatives. But oh. Vasily invited her to his parish. Now she lives at the church, reads the Psalter. Ten years ago, mother Angelina worked in a painting team. And so they and their girlfriends decided to "cheat" in the monastery (it had just begun to be restored). Gradually they began to become churched, and then, when they decided to look for a confessor with one of their girlfriends, they looked after Fr. Vasily: this one, they say, is tough for us. He probably doesn’t really understand Russian, he will allow us to sin ... As a result, in her own words, she “was left without teeth” - both literally and figuratively.

Parish life in the hospital church in honor of the Iberian Icon of the Most Holy Theotokos in Alatyr began, as is usually the case, with the restoration of the church. That is, the parish was formed even before the church opened. Every Sunday here - in a small room at the entrance to the temple - a prayer service was served to the Iberian image. The news that a church was being restored in the center of the city quickly spread around the neighborhood. From the very first day, twenty or thirty people began to come to prayers. This is where the first baptisms took place.

Father Vasily says: “About ten years ago, when I arrived in Alatyr, I noticed this building. I looked and thought: probably a former temple. He made inquiries and it turned out that way.

And somehow people from the government of Cheboksary got married. I didn’t have a church then, I performed the sacrament in someone else’s church. After that, they were invited to dinner. There are ministers, heads of administration. I took the floor and said: “There is an Iberian church on the territory of the hospital, it needs to be returned to the Church.” The minister immediately asked the head of administration if this was possible. "Of course!" The problem was solved in five minutes...

It is known that the image of the Iberian Mother of God patronizes foreigners. In 1994 I came to the Pskov-Caves Monastery. And there the icon painter Fr. Olympius was just finishing the Iberian icon. I asked about. Olympia give it to me. And this icon was everywhere with me - in Moscow, in Cheboksary, in the monastery, etc. And when we opened this temple, I realized that this is the place for this icon. She now hangs in the altar.

Two years ago, when we started rebuilding the temple, we didn't have any money. But we started, prayed, and the Lord sent us exactly what we needed.”

Ruth

Ruth leads the choir and teaches Sunday school for adults. Do not be surprised by such an unusual name - she is English. It will soon be ten years since Ruth lives in Chuvashia. First she settled in Cheboksary, and a year later, having met Fr. Vasily and becoming his spiritual child, she moved to Alatyr. Ruth teaches English at a local school and studies by correspondence at St. Sergius Theological University in Paris. “Many people who come to us are just beginning to become churchgoers, they are just learning what fasting and prayer are,” says Ruth. We strive to make people feel at home in the parish. The main gift of Father Vasily is the ability to communicate with people. And with representatives of various spheres of life. He always tries to make people in the parish understand that the Church must come out of its walls and include others. We invite newcomers to Sunday school for common meals. The poor women in the kitchen never know how many people to cook for. Father Vasily believes that parishioners are one family. The locals treat us with Fr. Vasily, foreigners, it is very good, they perceive us as their own, because we have been living here for a very long time. And we live like everyone else."

The backbone of the parish was formed about ten years ago, when Fr. Vasily settled here in a male monastery and his first spiritual children appeared. Interestingly, almost everyone remembers the date when they first came to him. Other parishioners appeared after they began to restore the Iberian Church.

Once two families arrived from Ulyanovsk (200 km from Alatyr). They wanted to become spiritual children of the abbot of the Holy Trinity Monastery, Father JERONEM, but he did not take them to himself. Go, he says, to Father Vasily. He accepted them. And when the restoration of the Iversky parish began, the Ulyanovsk people called their friends, acquaintances - a total of fifteen men. Since then they have been coming every weekend. And on weekdays they work at their factory.

Hegumen Vasily continues: “We were not specifically looking for anyone. With joy they received those whom the Lord sent. Grandmothers - they wound up like fungi. If it rains, the weather gets warmer, they grow. Grandmothers are the foundation of the parish, they have always been and will be. And do not think that grandmothers are weak. Our whole temple was plastered by grandmothers - one is sixty-three, and the other is seventy-three years old.

We still have few icons in the iconostasis, maybe they will appear if we find a benefactor. But if a good parish, then every parishioner then is an icon. And therefore, if there is a living parish, then the iconostasis will be by itself.”

"Church is a man's business"

Six months ago, the current carpenter and supply manager of the temple Sergey appeared. For a long time he worked in "wild brigades" - traveled around the country, built houses. Then all this got tired, Sergey discovered that he did not have a home: he does not see his family, he does not even know what is happening here in Alatyr. It turned out that one of his two daughters sings on the kliros at Fr. Vasily. From her, Sergey learned that there was work for a carpenter in the church: “So it turns out that I became a child of Father Vasily. He offered me a job as a caretaker.

I don't have another job in Alatyr yet, I agreed. But what they pay me in the temple is not enough. My wife and two daughters and I have two dorm rooms, we also have a dog and a cat. I am lucky that my family is so unpretentious, they do not require anything from me. Otherwise we wouldn't have made it."

Hegumen Vasily: “The headman is not at the parish now. I had a man at the parish whose son died from drugs, he himself began to drink. I offered him to help me in the parish - to become a warden. But this step turned out to be my big mistake.

I lost the ability to manage, to lead the parish where it is necessary. A priest should be able to form a parish himself, to give birth to it, to educate people. Again, build a temple - so that everything is tasteful and Orthodox.

I always rejoice when more men come. For the locals, the church is a woman's business. But I try to convince them, to prove that the church is a man's business. Sometimes I have to come to them with a joke: what, they say, do I look like a woman, or what? And then, when there are already several men, a masculine atmosphere is created, and men come one after another - like why am I worse? It’s the same with sponsors – it’s hardest to find the first one.”

Real Russian life

Divine services in the temple began in January of this year. Now there are about thirty-five regular parishioners here, on weekends one hundred people receive communion. The most faithful parishioners are, of course, grandmothers. Some are in church every day. Twisted, with sticks, they come from nearby houses. The temple where Fr. Vasily, conveniently located - in the center of Alatyr. And services in the temple begin at eight in the morning - an hour later than in other churches in the city.

The parish is friends with the orphanage for mentally retarded children - sometimes they are brought to church, Sunday school students arrange performances for them. Father Vasily wants to organize a charitable canteen at the church, a video library where one could watch spiritual films, and, if possible, an almshouse. However, poor parishioners are fed in the refectory even now. There are a lot of homeless people in Alatyr. The fact that you can eat in the Iberian parish quickly became known. Of course, there are also people who, in the words of Fr. Vasily, "become insolent": professional bums, lazy. But others come, and the first thing they ask is, how can you help here? For such, there is a refectory.

There are many drug addicts among the local youth. Even more drug addicts and alcoholics: they start drinking at the age of seven.
In Soviet times, Alatyr was a large industrial city, there were many factories here, one factory produced pianos. Now the factory is closed, the factories are not even working halfway, but it’s good if it’s a quarter. All able-bodied young people are engaged in trade - they go to Moscow for goods, then they sell them in the surrounding cities. With the proceeds, they buy the necessary things from other resellers. The old people live off their gardens.

“In Alatyr, there is real Russian life. In Moscow, she is no longer Russian, says Fr. Basil. “Let's take the grandmothers in the village - it's terrible that they are watching!” A grandmother in a sweatshirt, who has a toilet outside and washes in a bath, is shown aunts whose life is beautiful, who only think how to change their husband. Vulgarization is in vogue. There are many books where complex things are explained in simple language, due to this, sacred things lose their sacred meaning. Vulgarize the icon - you get just a picture. Vulgarize Easter - only Easter cakes and colored eggs will remain. But they have no life. And life is different: “Christ is Risen!” “Truly Risen!”

Coming

Maria Nikitichna (Aunt Masha) is a legendary person. This is the same sixty-three-year-old grandmother who plastered almost the entire temple. Here is how Aunt Zina tells about her: “The guys from Ulyanovsk arrived, they began to plaster the altar part. A little plastered. Then Aunt Masha joined them - and went like an avalanche! A day is a column, a day is a column. It works exactly like this - the corners are straight chiseled! Aunt Masha herself speaks much more modestly about herself: “You have to run for good deeds. And if they ask, it is no longer help. It's good that they tolerated me. I have a heavy character. But if they endured me, then they will be saved. But everyone helped me, you can’t do it alone, no matter what the specialist. The Lord will help - enough strength. How does the father work? Always next to us, it happens that there are no men at all, but he helps us ... I don’t go to Sunday school: I will know a lot - they will ask a lot.

The rector of the temple is very grateful to SVETLANA for the fact that she undertook to lead children to Sunday school. For her, this is a real feat: the fact is that she does not see (literally within a week she was blind in both eyes). Therefore, an assistant is always present in the classroom with children. Svetlana talks about her first class (the school opened last fall): “We put up ads. We decorated the room, we are happy, we are waiting for the children. The first girl arrives with her mother. We ask her: “Well, girl, did you want to go to Sunday school yourself or did your mother insist?”

And the mother answers for the girl: “We are here for the first and last time.” It turned out that the girl agreed to come to class only with this condition. She didn't want to fit into parochial school rules, wear a skirt, and so on. And we sit and do not know whether to immediately burst into tears or wait until the end of classes. Then more children gathered, sixteen people. But this girl not only did not leave us, but also brought her mother to an adult school. Mom was a non-believer before that.”

“The poor women in the kitchen never know how many people to cook for,” Ruth says.

"For Christ to be the breath"

We talk again with Fr. Vasily: “Batiushka is a father. And the father gives birth to people. Therefore, he must be the initiator of the community. We need to make contact. Go where people gather. A father should serve the people, and not vice versa. No wonder he is called a clergyman. To do this, you need to study the language, the psychology of the people. We must listen to everyone, any grandmother. No special skills are needed - you just need to understand and listen. And then the parishioner will begin to listen to the priest. But I don't want people to become parishioners. I strive for them to become believers, so that they will find Christ. So that, like St. John of Kronstadt, could reflect on the topic “My life in Christ”. For Christ to be their breath.

The priest himself must ensure that something like a wall of the closest parishioners does not form around him. For example, I swear, and if one of my close parishioners offends my grandmother, I will put him on bows. If I meet one of the infrequent parishioners on the street, I say: “Well, when will you come? Come!" It is also necessary to use human curiosity. It so happened that one grandmother came once, and then she was not visible. What happened? It turned out that someone offended her. I say: “What are you - I give my blood in order to gather people, and you scatter them ?!”

In general, I think that all activity should come from within. As a source, a stream beats, which means that it is necessary to equip the font.

To unite parishioners, we have a refectory. I would like to have a tea party after the service, to which anyone who wants to can come. But now the place does not allow us. Because it is necessary that people communicate closer. Thank God that now people can choose which temple to go to. After all, before the revolution, parishes were purely functional - it was a place where people were baptized, married, and buried. Now people are looking for a place where they can grow spiritually.”

I was tormented by the question of how the locals still relate to the abbot from France. I heard that from time to time, swastikas have to be wiped off the church gates. Here is what Fr replied to me. Vasily: “There are neither Russians nor French, but there is one Orthodox people. People who divide people by nationality simply do not understand anything in the spiritual life.”