Every Orthodox bears in his memory many stories of miraculous healings or other manifestations of God's help. We tell them to each other in order to share with our neighbor the joy of the obvious presence of God in our lives, to comfort and encourage in difficult circumstances. An Orthodox person lives by the grace of God and His innumerable good deeds. We just have to not forget about it.

But not everyone can talk about their meeting with a miracle, write simply and convincingly, as Mikhail Ivanovich Makarov was able to do. He was not a professional writer, he was just a truly Orthodox person.

Mikhail Ivanovich was born in 1906, he reposed in the Lord in 2004, a little short of a hundred years old. As a child, he studied at the parochial school at the Danilov Monastery, fell in love with the monastery, was its parishioner and even the bell ringer at the monastery bell tower. Mikhail Ivanovich lived a seemingly ordinary, nothing particularly outstanding life of a simple worker - but it was a life with God. Never, even in the most difficult atheistic times, did he depart from the faith, from the Church. And the Lord helped.

And these cases of God's miraculous help, Mikhail Ivanovich considered it his duty to write down and convey to us, his readers. Moreover, knowing Mikhail Ivanovich, we can say for sure that this simple and very modest person did not say a single superfluous word, did not embellish anything in his stories, but simply shared with us what he had to endure.

Mikhail Ivanovich spoke about how the Lord repeatedly saved him in serious illnesses, how the miracle of healing led his wife to faith, spoke about his favorite Moscow shrines - the miraculous icons of the Mother of God of Vladimir, who was at that time in the Kremlin, and Iverskaya from the Iverskaya chapel on Krasnaya Square, "Joy of All Who Sorrow" from the church on Ordynka and "Healer" from the Church of the Resurrection in Sokolniki - and about the true stories of healing and God's help through prayers to them. “Human life is complex. A person, even the happiest, has a time of grief, sorrow, difficult circumstances. At such a time, go to the Mother of God for help... Pour out your grief before Her in fervent prayer, make a good promise...” Mikhail Ivanovich calls us, because he knows perfectly well that such a prayer does not go unheeded.

Unbelieving people often try to explain the miracle as a coincidence, Mikhail Ivanovich answers them like this: “It's just that unbelief does not want to recognize God's help. Unbelief always tries to explain the fact of God's help by anything but God's help... Believe! Faith does not teach anything bad, does not interfere with anything good. Believe, and you will have many blessed, joyful “coincidences” in your life!...”

Saul, Saul! why are you chasing me?

I will proclaim the name of Jehovah before you, and whom I have mercy on, I will have mercy.

In 1921, the famous Russian artist Mikhail Vasilievich Nesterov painted a small painting called Travelers. Two people are walking along the steep bank of a wide river: a peasant and a peasant woman. He has an uncovered shaggy-bearded head. The peasant woman has a beautiful scarf on her head. Behind the shoulders of the peasant is a knapsack, on his feet - chuni. The peasant woman has bast shoes on her feet. Under the slope along which they are walking, the roofs of peasant huts are visible. On the river, a tugboat pulls a barge. Everything is so simple and ordinary. But this is not simple and not ordinary: a traveler, Christ, is walking towards them. They are amazed by this meeting.

“What an outdated, unreal picture,” some might think. No. Both modern and real. And now, as before, as two thousand years ago, Christ appears both to His persecutors, and to those who want to meet Him, and to those to whom He wants to reveal His name and have mercy. He is, His Most Pure Mother is, the saints are. They appear visibly and invisibly in revelations, troubles and misfortunes. No wonder the Russian people used to say in case of trouble or misfortune: "The Lord has visited." So it was, so it is, and so it will be, because the gates of hell, the gates of evil, will not prevail against the Church of Christ.

L. was a convinced atheist. Moreover, she was an atheist propagandist and by the nature of her work she read anti-religious lectures, including at the Danilov Monastery, when there was a receiver for juvenile delinquents. In an anti-religious spirit, she raised her two children, a boy and a girl. Once, during her vacation, she took a trip to Siberia with her children - to see the cities, to see the people. In one of the cities, the three of them went for a walk. On the way, they saw an open functioning temple, entered it and, looking around with curiosity, began to inspect it unceremoniously. At that time, there were no worshipers in the temple, only cleaners were washing the floor. We can now quite often observe a similar picture in churches, as passing passers-by, including women in trousers, also unceremoniously stare at the walls of the temple, approach the icons, bewildered and ignorantly examine them with an incomprehensible look. Instead of friendly asking such passers-by what they do not understand, and telling them about the content of the murals or icons, some “believers” angrily hiss at the curious - you should never do this. We do not know, perhaps the right hand of God led them to this temple to show them the Face of God, call them and have mercy on them. But back to L. Her attention was drawn to the icon of the Mother of God, which was placed not far from the iconostasis. L. went up to the icon and began to examine the Mother of God. Suddenly she heard a voice from the icon, which made her feel sick. She fell before the icon in a deep bow to the ground and began to pray to the Mother of God for forgiveness. The voice was heard by her children, but did not understand the words. What L. heard, she does not say, but she immediately interrupted the trip, returned to Moscow, was baptized herself, baptized her children and quit her anti-religious work. She began to zealously visit the church, study the faith and commandments of our Church through sermons and services, and pray fervently. Her son Alyosha began to serve in the church, learned to read Church Slavonic and became a reader. After serving in the Soviet army, he entered the Theological Seminary, accepted monasticism, and now, in the rank of abbot, he presides in one of the churches. Daughter L. also took the tonsure, and now she is a nun. So in our time the Lord called and had mercy on His chosen ones and made them servants of His Church.

M.V. Nesterov. Wayfarers. 1920s. GTG

It was. We know about the appearance of Christ from the Gospel, from the Acts of the Holy Apostles, from the Lives of the Saints. And here is a fact from a past secular life. All cultured people know the great Russian writer I.A. Goncharova. But not everyone knows that before his death, Christ appeared to him. Here is what A.F. tells about this fact. Koni in Memoirs of Writers.

“Deep faith in another life accompanied Goncharov to the end. I visited him the day before his death, and while I expressed the hope that he would get better, he looked at me with his remaining eye, in which life still flickered and flashed, and said in a firm voice: “No, I will die. Tonight I saw Christ, and He forgave me."

But Christ is not for everyone, but only for the specially chosen ones. We must, we must pray that the Lord will save all people.

God! Return to Your Holy Church all those who have departed from her, bring to her those who do not lead her, make her persecutors Your servants and unite us all in faith, hope and love.

One day in May 1946, a group of female vacationers settled down on a bench in the veranda of the Tea-Georgia rest house to continue the conversation they had begun.

Miracles often happen in the world, but few people know about it. Partly because they do not want to notice them, and partly because it is not customary to talk about such things, they are kept for their hearts.

clairvoyant woman

The Svyatogorsk elder Haralampios Kapsaliotis (Kapsaliotis is a resident of Kapsala. Kapsala is a place on Athos), in support of his thoughts about the virtue of some laity, said the following: “I once knew a monk from the Iberian monastery. Father Gerasim was from Asia Minor Aivali. His mother, a woman of holy life, possessed the gift of clairvoyance. She told her son: “My child, do not sin, live with the fear of God. When you grow up, you will be a monk on Mount Athos, in the monastery of the Goalkeeper.” When she censed icons, she held hot coals in her hands, which did not cause her any harm.

The Virgin drove away the deadly flu

Giorgi Moraitu, a resident of Messolonghi, says: “In 1918, a deadly flu broke out in Messolonghi. Despite the best efforts of doctors, people became infected one by one and died of exhaustion in a few days. A terrible epidemic has begun. In Messolonghi, 25–30 people died daily, and the same thing happened in neighboring towns and villages. So, in Agrinio, 45-50 dead were mourned every day. When the officials who ruled the city realized the number of victims and the extent of the spread of the epidemic, they contacted the bishop and sent a delegation to the monastery of the Blessed Virgin "Prusiotissa". They asked the abbot to send a miraculous icon of the Most Pure (Prusiotissa - one of the most revered icons of the Most Holy Theotokos in Greece) to Messolonghi in order to stop the death of people.
The icon arrived first in Agrinio. Already in the first hours of its appearance in the city, no one else died, and those who already fell ill with the flu recovered. Initially, it was planned to leave the miraculous image in Agrinio for several days, but people began to come from neighboring villages, asking to urgently give them an icon in order to stop the death of their fellow villagers.
On November 1, 1918, the icon arrived by rail in Messolongi, the inhabitants of this city waited all night for it in the town of Phoenicia. It was pouring rain, the doctors categorically insisted that no one go to meet the miraculous image. There was a danger that a large crowd of people would contribute to the spread of the epidemic. But ordinary believers trusted the Mother of God more and were not deceived in their expectations.
They met the icon, carried it in their arms to Messolonghi, where they made a procession through the streets of the city. As a result, not only no one became infected, but those already ill recovered. From the moment the image of the Most Holy Theotokos arrived in the city, not a single person has died from the flu.
In memory of the miracle and as a sign of their gratitude, people held a fundraiser and donated a superbly made seven-candlestick to the Pruso monastery. A list was also made from the miraculous image of the Virgin "Prusiotissa", which is still kept in the church of the holy martyr Paraskeva.

Saint George saves a prisoner

Testimony of George Koktsidis from the city of Drama: “My father Anastasios Koktsidis was born in 1884 in the Pontic village of Yazlakioi, located 35 kilometers from Amiso (Sampsunta). He had seven children.
In 1914, general mobilization was announced in connection with the outbreak of the Russian-Turkish war.
My father did not want to fight for the Turks against Russia and went to the mountains with his family. Until 1922, he remained in the partisan detachment of Captain Christos Avraamidis.
He did not have time to escape to Greece, was caught by the Turkish authorities and placed in solitary confinement. He was in constant fear. One day suddenly something flashed like lightning and some noise was heard. "Forward!" - these were the first words that my father heard when he woke up. In front of him stood George the Victorious - a saint whom he especially revered.
The father saw that the way was open before him. So he left the camp. There was complete silence all around.
With a quick step, the father reached the populated area already at dawn. He got his bearings and was able to find his family.
Dad often talked about his salvation and always emphasized that everything happened not in a dream, but in reality.

Return from another life

Testimony of Father S.: “It happened on May 29, 1962. I was then nine years old. I was playing in the yard with the guys, when suddenly one of them hit me very hard.
I lost consciousness and saw how my soul left the body and rushed somewhere into the darkness. Suddenly a bright Angel appeared. He took me in his arms and flew somewhere up at high speed.
On our way, I saw ordeals, one after another, and demons sitting there. But we flew around them at high speed.
We were stopped at the last ordeal, as I stole a pen from a classmate. Then the Angel said: “I am leading him to the Lord,” and we continued on our way. We reached a place where there was a very bright light, so that I could only look down at my feet. The angel stood a little further away and said: “Lord, this one is still quite small.” Then I heard a very beautiful and kind voice answering him: "He will serve me."
Immediately the Angel took me in his arms, and we again flew down at high speed. He took me to the hospital where I saw my body lying on the bed. The angel didn't say a word and flew away.
Then I came to my senses and almost immediately forgot about this incident. But I remembered it in great detail in 1995, when I became a monk and was preparing to take the ordination (thirty years after the event described).”

The Power of the Cross

In 1994, a monk from Athos, while visiting the ancient monastery of St. Dionysius of Olympus, met there a reverent grandmother who helped the pilgrims. She told him the following: “We have a lot of snakes here. When I see one of them in the courtyard of the monastery, I overshadow her with the sign of the cross. The snake remains immobilized like a branch. I pick it up and throw it outside the monastery fence. Some say to me: "Are you stupid that you pick up snakes?" To this I answer them: “Why stupid? What is stronger: the snake or the Cross of Christ, on which He was crucified, giving the world salvation? When I put bread, mixing flour and water, I certainly overshadow them with the sign of the cross. The dough rises and I bake bread out of it.”

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We continue to acquaint the readers of the Pravoslavie.ru website with the work of Archimandrite Ioannikius, who, in the form of brief stories, told about the Athos ascetics of modern times (although some stories introduce the tradition of the Athos mountaineers of ancient times). In this chapter, the author has collected stories about cases of the miraculous help of God and His saints, revealed on Mount Athos.

The man who founded the monastery of Dohiar was Saint Euthymius, an associate of our holy father Athanasius of Athos. He also built a church in the name of Saint Nicholas and labored very much for the sake of the Lord.

The second builder of the monastery is Saint Neophyte, the nephew of Saint Euthymius. He was the son of a nobleman at the court of Emperor Nicephorus Phokas and served as the first adviser to Emperor John Tzimiskes. His rejection of the honor and glory of this world was truly admirable.

The Monk Theophan of Dohiar was awarded the title of miracle worker. He changed the salty sea water into fresh water and the stormy sea into calm water. He built a monastery near the city of Berea, dedicated to the angels, and after his death many miracles took place there.

Our glorious Mother of God and Defender, the Lady Mother of God, has repeatedly proved Her maternal care for Her beloved children - the Athonite monks. There is a huge amount of evidence of Her guardianship. Once, when the pirates were preparing a secret attack on the monastery, the pious abbot of Vatopedi heard the voice of the Most Holy Theotokos coming from the icon. She ordered him not to open the gate, but to sound the alarm and order the monks to climb the fortress walls to repulse the enemy.

In the same monastery lived the venerable hierodeacon, who hid the icon of the Mother of God, called Vimatarissa, in the monastery well. It was discovered only many years after the capture of the monastery by the barbarians, standing vertically in the water with a candle lit in front of it.

Gennady, a Vatopedi cellar, lived a holy life in accordance with the will of God and was honored to witness a miracle from the Most Holy Theotokos: he saw how an empty vessel was filled with such an amount of oil that it poured over the edge and under the door into the pantry.

It is said that a blind-born monk, whose name was Anfim, lived in the Iberian Monastery. Hearing about the miracles of the Portaitissa icon of Our Lady of Our Lady all over the world, he began to pray to her for a cure for blindness and began to revere the Portaitissa icon so much that he asked the icon painter to paint it for him. Agreeing, the icon painter began to prepare. But every time he tried to get down to business, his hand seemed to be seized by a cold.

A few days later, Father Anfim, having decided that the icon was already ready, went to the icon painter, and he told him that every time he starts to paint, his hands become numb so that he cannot work. When Father Anfim heard this, he knelt down and zealously began to beg the Mother of God to have her brother paint Her holy icon.

The Mother of God did not disregard his prayer. The icon appeared on the board by itself, without the intervention of the icon painter, and Anfim's eyes were opened, so that he could see the faces of the Most Pure and our Lord Jesus Christ. This event became known to everyone. Father Anfim saw the icon with his own eyes, immensely enjoying his vision; then his eyes clouded over again, and he became the same as before.

In the skete of Kerasya lived two elderly ascetics, John and Theodosius. They were assigned the obedience of carving wooden spoons. In a short time they made so many of them that they were able to fill two bags with them, and then a merchant from Romania arrived through the Providence of the All-Tsaritsa and bought them all.

On the day of St. George, the cell of St. George on Karuli celebrates its patronal feast. This story happened during such a holiday sometime between 1930 and 1935. Approximately 20-25 Russian and Greek ascetics gathered for the vigil, but they did not have fish for the holiday.

Father Zosima, a very pious and simple monk who loved people and was the most merciful among all the Russian ascetics of Athos, invited them to fish in the place where they were, since their house was located on the edge of a cliff above the sea. “But how can we fish without a hook or lure?” others answered.

“Here is a nail, a small string and a piece of bread,” said the elder. They crossed themselves, cast unusual fishing rods and miraculously caught a big fish, from which they boiled fish soup. It was a gift sent by the patron saint of the holy cell!

The next miraculous event took place 30 years ago in the monastery of St. Paul during the German occupation. He once again confirmed the participation of the Most Holy Theotokos in all the needs of our lives. In this monastery lived a simple old man with a pure heart, the monk Thomas.

His obedience was to help in the bakery. Once it turned out that the two monks who were in charge of the bakery were not there, and all responsibility fell on their assistant, Elder Thomas. He needed to cook and bake enough bread to last two days, which is a huge amount intended for all the brethren and pilgrims.

He did not know what to do, had no idea how and where to start. Then, with tears in his eyes, the monk prayed to the Mother of God, asking for help. After that, he took some yeast and added it to the water and flour. At that moment, the beautiful Wife appeared, all in black. She herself mixed the necessary ingredients, fashioned the loaves and baked them. All this time, Elder Foma felt as if he was not here.

When he later told the fathers what had happened, they realized that the woman was the Mother of God. The bread tasted very sweet and pleasant. “Father Thomas, you probably added something to the bread so that it bakes so quickly and tastes so good!” they told him.

The holy icon "Portaitissa" is known as the greatest miraculous icon on the Holy Mountain.
When it appeared, a pillar of fire was visible from the sea to the sky, which pointed to the place where the icon was found. This was revealed to the Iberian hermit Saint Gabriel, who descended from the mountain and walked on the sea as on dry land. He took the icon, and the monks placed it with great honors in the temple. But the Blessed Virgin, having appeared, said to the abbot: “I have come here to protect you, and not so that you protect Me.” And after that, the monks repeatedly found the icon at the gates of the monastery, after which they placed it back in the temple. Since that time, the icon has been called "Portaitissa", which means "at the gate". She is full of grandeur, magnificent; this image is worthy of the Mother of God - the One Who is our great Patron and Helper.

On the face of the Portaitissa icon there is a scar from a sword strike. The blow was delivered by a Turkish pirate, who immediately saw blood from the wound he had inflicted. This miracle affected him so strongly that he was baptized, tonsured a monk and remained in the monastery. Out of a feeling of repentance, he did not want to be called anything other than Barbarian, and he lived such a pious life that he was forgiven. There is a fresco with his image in the small chapel of Portaitissa. He is dressed like a pirate and named "Saint Barbarian".

When our holy father Akaki Kavsokalivit asceticized in the cave as a hermit, according to his painter, Hieromonk Jonah from the Kavsokalivit Skete, every morning a beautiful bird flew in, perched on a tree near the cave and brought out exquisite trills. When the saint listened to the bird, he was filled with great joy, freeing him from boredom and sadness, which sometimes attack the silent. Maybe the bird was an angel of God sent to him as a consolation in this inconsolable desert.

Saint Akakiy was endowed with the gift of appeasement. When someone was tormented by inner thoughts, he only needed to look at the joyful face of the saint in order to immediately humble himself and stop worrying.

In the XIII century, St. Gregory labored in the Lavra, who was the spiritual father of St. Gregory Palamas, the great teacher of our Orthodox faith.

This blessed old man perfected himself so much in non-acquisitiveness and devoted himself to unceasing prayer that an angel appeared to bring him food.

Many years have passed since that wonderful miracle that happened on the day of St. Nicholas in the monastery of Gregory. The famous monk Hadji George was at that time still a novice Gabriel. The fathers were saddened by the fact that, due to bad weather, they could not catch fish for the festive dinner. But Gabriel did not despair. All his faith and hope was in St. Nicholas the Wonderworker. He was completely immersed in prayer, and soon after that, on the eve of the holiday, strong waves brought many large fish ashore to the monastery. As soon as the fathers saw this, they ran to collect fish for dinner, glorifying St. Nicholas and singing his praises.

The well-known spiritual father Father John from Aksion Estin skete once spoke about a new worker who came to St. Andrew's skete to confess. This worker told him that he died when he was still a child. Before he was buried, his mother went to church and tearfully prayed on her knees for a long time. She then returned home, put on her best clothes, and lay down next to her son, who was in the coffin, and said, "Get up, my child, I will go instead of you." The child was resurrected, and the mother died at the same moment. Many years later this man came to the Holy Mountain to be a worker in Karey.

One day, the monk Aglaius from the monastery of Constamonita fell ill, and the doctor advised him to eat meat, as he had tuberculosis and often spat blood.

The sick elder was very sad, because in this case he would not be able to serve as a sacristan in his monastery. He prayed unceasingly, fervently asking the Lord for his recovery. One day, while he was praying in this way, he suddenly saw a large deer appear in front of him, head down, and then fall down, writhing. Father Aglai, fearing that he was about to die, quickly ran to tell the other fathers and the gardener, who was not a monk. When the gardener saw the poor animal in this condition, he killed it and skinned it. The elders decided that Father Aglai would cook some meat for himself every day. They believed that the deer was sent by the Lord as a gift, blessing and medicine for the sick monk.

“Seek first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all this will be added to you” (Matt. 6: 33) - this commandment of the Lord, which conveys the fullness of faith in Divine Providence, is the life guide of ascetics.

Elder Cherubim from the skete of St. Basil was a true ascetic, full of faith and hope. But he was a little hard of hearing. Once, after a heavy snowfall, he found himself cut off from the outside world in his cell and spent a whole week without food. And then suddenly a stranger with a laden mule knocked on his door, and it was almost night outside. The traveler asked if he could get to the cave of St. Peter before dark, and then return to the monastery of St. Paul.

Father Cherubim answered him: “My brother, there is so much snow that you will not be able to get to the skete of St. Peter, even if you have a whole day ahead of you. Stay here for the night, and tomorrow morning you will be able to go.”

The stranger said, “Father, I have brought food that I would like to sell and then return home. If you want, keep it all and give me some money.” “Since you are in a hurry, leave them here in this corner, and I will give you the money that the wanderers donated to me.” The elder went to his cell, and the stranger began to unload the goods, but when the elder returned, he was gone. Father Cherubim looked out into the street and called, but there were no traces of either animals or people in the snow. Then he realized that all this was a visible manifestation of the invisible Divine Providence, which takes care of everything. The elder entered his little chapel and thanked the Lord. Gratefully, he placed the food in the pantry. They lasted all winter.

I, unworthy, had to somehow hear about such miracles, and the former abbot of the monastery of St. Paul, Archimandrite Andrei, told a similar story. The poor hermit Ephraim lived in a modest cell between the sketes of Katunaki and Saint Basil. His cell was a cave covered with several sheets of tin, which was under a huge rock. He lived there, enduring innumerable calamities and hardships.

Once in winter a lot of snow fell, and the poor old man Ephraim was completely covered with it. His supply of biscuits ran out and he went without food for several days. One day, in front of the entrance to his cave, he saw a layman standing with a huge bag on his back.

“Father, bless me, I am going to Kerasya, but there is so much snow, and it is already getting dark. It would be nice to leave the bag here and pick it up tomorrow afternoon.”

The hermit Ephraim, extremely surprised, asked the stranger: “Where are you from, my brother? As you can see, there is no road here. But come in. There's a fire here for you to keep warm. Leave your cargo here and come back for it anytime."

But the stranger pretended to hurry back to the monastery of St. Paul, and disappeared right in front of the hermit. At that moment, when Father Ephraim stopped seeing him, a bag appeared in front of him. He looked: to the right and left of the cave there were no traces. Opening the bag, the elder found crackers and other foodstuffs in it, which he ate until the winter weather ended. His eyes filled with tears of joy and gratitude, and he glorified God and His miracles.

Father Eustratius did not wear a beard, despite the fact that he was 30 years old. After the death of his elder in the Holy Trinity cell of the monastery of St. Paul, he went to Kavsokalyvia. There the elders refused to accept him, because they did not want any of them to be without a beard. Eustratius was persistent. That night they had a vigil in honor of the Most Holy Theotokos. In the morning, miraculously, several hairs appeared on the face of Eustratius, for which he gave Her praise and gratitude. The most amazing thing, however, was that over time, his beard grew to the ground.

In 1864, Chusni Pasha, the governor of Thessaloniki, visited Athos. Being a highly educated person, he wanted to visit Protaton. There he saw, in particular, the frescoes of Saints Onuphrius and Peter of Athos. But he did not believe that their beards were to the ground, as shown in the frescoes. The fathers assured him that this was possible, and as proof they brought the long-bearded old man Eustratius. Pasha, surprised, spoke in Turkish: “Afentersin efentiler”, which means: “I beg your pardon, gentlemen!”

In 1750, the Sunday before Great Lent began with the fact that the monk Macarius from the skete of St. Anna became very ill. He was near death. His novice, Father Theoktist, that year was an assistant to the monk who was responsible for the main temple of the skete and receiving guests. After the liturgy, Father Theoktist was very upset, because it was necessary to find fish in order to cook soup to treat the elders. He went down to the pier of the skete, but found neither a boat nor fishermen there.

The surroundings were deserted. The sea was worried. Father Theoktist, falling on his knees, began to pray to St. Anna, mother of the Most Holy Theotokos and patroness of their skete.

As soon as he finished his prayer, he saw a huge fish playfully splashing in the waves. He made the sign of the cross in that direction, and suddenly the fish was thrown onto the sand by the next wave. Rejoiced, Father Feoktist immediately picked her up and ran to the main skete, where his elder lay bedridden. He cooked the fish, fed the elder, who instantly recovered, and what was left was fed to all the monks and pilgrims who were in the skete that day. They said they had never tasted a better fish in their lives than this one sent by God.

In the New Skete lived a poor monk, Elder Dorotheos, who had never left Athos since he came here as a child. He didn't do anything to sell. He could only fish in a small boat. One day, when he ran out of oil, the all-good Lord made a barrel of oil come up from the sea and float between the New Skete and St. Paul's Landing.

On Easter Day 1935, Archimandrite Seraphim, Father Superior of St. Paul, and all 60 fathers of the monastery went out into the courtyard to serve the liturgy in honor of the Resurrection of Christ. In a joyful mood, full of the exclamation "Christ is risen!", the hegumen said to one of the brothers: "Father Thomas, go down to the relics of the fathers and tell them that Christ is risen." “Bless, father,” he answered, and without hesitation quickly went to the ossuary.

“Fathers, I have been sent by the abbot to tell you: “Christ is risen!” he exclaimed in a loud voice.

And suddenly the bones creaked and jumped. One skull rose a meter into the air and answered: "Truly risen!"

There was dead silence after that. Father Foma rushed back to tell everything he had seen and heard. The memorable Elder Theodosius, later the librarian of the monastery, often talks about this incident.

Everyone called him "Abba", and he really was "Papa" - Elder Isaac of Dionysius. In his monastic exploits of fasting, prayer and spiritual struggle, he loved everyone and was obedient in everything to anyone. And everyone loved him.

Once, when he was on obedience in the courtyard of the monastery in Karey, his mentor, Father Gelasius, who at that time represented their monastery in Karey, warned him that it was already noon and a storm was expected, so that he might get lost on his way back at that hour at winter time. But the elder replied that without any excuse he should definitely return to Dionysiat, which was a five-hour walk from Karyes. And so, standing on his knees, the blessed one left. When he reached the top of the mountain, heavy snow began to fall. It became hard to go. When he reached the hill called Bosdum in Simonopetra, the snow was already knee-deep and it was beginning to get dark. Elder Isaac was frightened by this darkness, snow and wild animals in the forest.

Trusting in the Lord, the holy elder cried out from the very depths of his heart: “Lord Jesus Christ, my God, with the blessing of the holy elder, please save me at this hour.” And immediately he was lifted up by an invisible force and carried to the gates of his monastery.

Vespers was approaching, and the porter was about to close the gate. When he saw Abba Isaac, he was very surprised and, having greeted him, asked him with reverence how he could get there in such bad weather. The blessed one replied that he had come from Karea.

“But how could you be here in this weather?” Abba could not answer, but only looked at the icon of St. John the Baptist.

The porter also noticed that there were no footprints in the snow from the side of Carey. Finally, after persistent questions from the gatekeeper about how he left the capital of Athos and how he arrived in Dionysiat, Abba Isaac was able to tell him and the other fathers what happened: he said that he remembers everything that happened to him in the first half of the journey, but then he can only remember how he asked God for help. And then he was in front of the entrance to the monastery.

Letter from the Heavenly Office

"Ask, and it shall be given you; seek and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you"
(Matthew 7:7).

A table with a simple snack, a burning candle in the middle. Five at the memorial meal on the ninth day. After the first traditional toasts, one of those sitting asks for more details about the life of a person who has already passed into eternity. And this is what we hear...
My mother was orphaned when she was two and a half years old. My grandfather, her father, wanted to cut down all the icons in a fit of rage. Mom said that we had large old icons in silver frames. Mom managed to save a few of them. She, a three-year-old baby, began to drag them to the river bank and lower them into the water. Then she stood and watched as they were slowly carried away by the current. Soon my grandfather brought a concubine. The stepmother began to demand: “Take away the children. Take them wherever you want." And one night, a cat woke up my mother, meowing wildly and scratching her hand. Waking up, she shouted to her brother: "Kolka, let's run, the folder wants to cut us down." My grandfather, in surprise, dropped the ax, which had already been brought over them by the sleeping ones. The children ran away. That's why my mother loved cats so much. For saving lives.
After some time, the grandfather hacked his partner to death with an ax for treason, and he himself went and surrendered to the authorities. He was sentenced to twelve years and exiled. Mom and brother were left alone.
It’s even scary for me now to imagine how she, a four-year-old child, walked barefoot in the snow and collected alms in Georgeti. Apparently, this was also necessary. Despite the harsh childhood and youth, my mother was a rare lover of life, she never lost heart and did not allow us to do this, she said: "Nothing, the Lord will not leave."
Then one servant of God took mother to be brought up, although she herself was in poverty. Then my mother was adopted by a Georgian family. I still remember these people as my grandfather and grandmother. Of course, they are long gone. They gave her their last name. They sent me to college.
Soon her father's brother came from the front and took her to Tbilisi, to the FZU at Trikotazhka. With her aunt, uncle's wife, the relationship did not work out, and she had to move to a hostel.
The Lord, like every orphan, invisibly led and protected her. Once, in a moment of despair, at the age of nineteen, she prayed: “Lord, if You exist, give me happiness!”
And that very night He came to her in a dream and said: "Correct your sins, then you will receive happiness."
When she woke up, the first thing she did was toss the cards into the stove (before that, she was a good guesser). And she went to church. I began to pray, to confess.
There is a large ancient icon of the Mother of God "Smolensk" in the Alexander Nevsky Church. Mom prayed before her that Holy Mother of God arranged her life. She soon met my father. Then they got married. Dad, having just been demobilized, got a job at Knitwear as a master's apprentice, where mom already worked as a spinner. She worked at the plant for forty years. Who knows this profession will understand what kind of figure it is. These were the post-war years. It was difficult for everyone, and even more so for my parents, because they had to start everything from scratch. At first they ate on the windowsill, slept on the floor. Here a new problem arose. They didn't have children for three years. In front of the same icon, the mother begged for the child. And somehow I had a dream, as if an old man in a white cassock was knocking on our door to the dormitory apartment (there were four rooms, each lived in a family) and calling my mother:
“You have a letter from the Heavenly Chancellery!” - and gives her a piece of paper.
“But I don’t understand anything,” my mother replies.
“They will read it to you on the second floor,” the elder answers and disappears.
And mom sees a star descending from the sky - and right into her hands.
Waking up, my mother thought about it and remembered that a nun and her daughter lived on the second floor of our hostel, and went to them for an explanation. The nun listened to all this and said: “This means that your prayer has been heard and soon you will have a child. Most likely a girl."

Indeed, soon I was born, a sinner, - the narrator smiles. - Who this elder was, my mother found out later, when the Lord called me to faith and the whole family became churched, began to keep fasts, confess and take communion. Somehow she recognized this elder on the icon. It was the Reverend Seraphim of Sarov. We lived very poorly. There wasn't even enough bread. From my childhood, I remember pasta and apples, which we mostly ate. But my mother never complained. One day a priest knocks at our common door. All four housewives came out, everyone was interested: “Who did you come to?” And he looks at his mother and says: "I'm coming to you."
Mom, of course, invited him to come in. He says, "Give me a piece of bread and a glass of water." Mom got two hundred grams of bread - a one-day norm, there was no more. The priest began to pray, then said: "You will always have bread." And hastened to leave. When she ran out after him to thank him, to ask why he came to us, our guest was nowhere to be found. I ran around four floors, asked everyone, but it turned out that no one saw him. Telling this incident, my mother always cried: “Who was that? Why did he disappear? Maybe it was the Lord who visited me? Shortly after this event, my father's pilot friends were transferred to Vaziani, and they began to visit us often. They put overcoats on the floor and spend the night. They often gave us their military rations. Somehow life got better. When I was twelve years old, my parents got married. All these years they collected money for rings by pennies. Both were very eager to receive this Sacrament. Mom was an extremely loving and wise person. In all my life, I do not remember that she spoke badly about someone. I will probably never reach her level of love for people and for all living things. Even being paralyzed, you all saw how she rejoiced at all of you and how resignedly she bore the cross of illness. It was revealed to her that her illness was for the sins of her father.
Kingdom of Heaven to her, eternal rest.
Let Mommy, if she has boldness before the Lord, pray for all of us, so that we would have the same love for people and resignation to bearing our cross.
- Amen! - said and crossed those sitting at the table.
Narrated May 14, 1998

Church Sacraments

"My house shall be called a house of prayer for all nations"
(Mark 11:17).

“A sacrament is such a sacred act through which the grace of the Holy Spirit is secretly, invisibly given to a person,” explains the Law of God. Many believers, not to mention atheists, perceive the Church Sacraments as simply a dogmatic tradition. Few people expect a miracle from baptism or chrismation. And miracles are always a surprise. Here are some of them, told by different people.

On January 7, 1999, several people gathered to celebrate Christmas. After the celebratory toasts, the speech at the table turned to how someone came to the Church.
“Listen to me,” says M., an elderly woman with strong-willed manners. - I came to the church by accident. More precisely, as I now know, there is nothing accidental, but there is the Providence of God. Here is how it was. About a year ago I was walking along Rustaveli past Kashveti. I never looked at the church in my life and in general I was an ardent atheist, I always spoke at party meetings. I myself am from Kursk, worked as a demolition worker in a mine. And then I was walking, and suddenly it hit me in the head, let me, I think, I’ll go in, I’ll see what’s inside. I have never been to church in Russia or here, but here I wanted to. Well, I chest forward and went, as if on an attack. Without a scarf, of course. Yes, someone would try to tell me something: it’s impossible, they say, - in no time I would have put me in my place. My character is so decisive ... I go, in general. It's dark, the candles are burning, they are singing something drawling. And in the middle of the line. As a Soviet person, I have an instinct: where is the queue, so go to the end and ask “who is the last one”, and only then figure it out. So I got in line and moved slowly towards the altar. Everything, I see, my hands folded in a cross on my chest, and I, like a monkey, did the same. Went to the priest. He is the name
asks. I named myself.
“Open your mouth,” he says.
Opened. And he gave me a spoonful of something and announced: “The servant of God is communing…”. Then he wiped my lips and gave me the Chalice to kiss. I, like an automaton, kissed and went out into the street. What grace I felt, and I can not describe. I walk, I can’t feel my feet under me. And the sun shines differently for me, and people smile towards me. Everything is extraordinary. For a week I lived in paradise, everyone was surprised how well I felt and didn’t want to swear with anyone. Then I thought - why is this? I went to church again, began to delve into, to be interested in what it was and when it will be again. So gradually, gradually I came to faith. Now I try not to miss a single service. How many times later I took communion after that, everything was according to the rules, fasting without fail, I read the rule, but I didn’t feel grace like the first time. Why so, do not explain. That's what the Sacrament is for.
…
In 1997, in a completely different environment, another person of the same age, social status and with a similar straightforward character said the following:
- Here these sectarians have bred - horror. They run around and shove their books to everyone: read - I don’t want to. Even though I am a dark person in religion, I only know for sure that all these sects are not serious. I am an ex-milk myself. In Ulyanovka (a Molokan village not far from Tbilisi) we are all believers, and the presbyter is good. You can't even compare it to the church. There is something that you will not find in any sect. This happened to me twenty-five years ago. I then worked at Knitwear as a spinner. A friend and her husband asked their child to be baptized.
“I’m not baptized,” I say. - I don't think you can.
“Come on,” her husband says. - No one will know. We also do nothing. Your business is small: stand by and hold the child, and my friend buys the cross and pays for everything. A priest doesn't even need you for a hundred years. - In general, they persuaded me. My godfather and I went to the Alexander Nevsky Church on the appointed day.
I even put on a scarf. Doesn't fit somehow without a scarf.
We went to the place where they were baptized. I unfolded the child, holding it in my arms. Father began to read something over the water. My godfather and I stand without a clue, we look. Suddenly the priest comes not to the child, but to me and begins to sprinkle me with water. Like boiling water doused me inside. Really, I think, did you know? It’s still good, the godfather helped out, said: “You, father, started baptizing the wrong one, but we came because of the child.”
“Oh,” says the old man, “excuse me.
And he began to baptize the boy ...
I just waited for him to finish. I jumped out into the yard and let's sneeze godfather.
- All of you, - I shout, - yes, your friend is to blame, they introduced me into sin. Because of you, the priest was deceived.
And my godfather himself is not happy that it happened, he justifies himself:
- But how did I know that this would happen? I thought just give him money.
Then my conscience tormented me for a long time because of that incident. After some time, I myself was baptized, and so were my sons. I go to church from time to time, I put candles when it's hard. As for the rest that is done in the church, I don't know. I heard you need to confess. Yes, all somehow courage is not enough yet.
…
The priest told this story. Once a woman approached him with a request to serve a memorial service for her husband. The priest went up to the Crucifixion and began to kindle the censer. After making several unsuccessful attempts and seeing that the incense was not lit, he asked:
- Are you ordering a requiem for a living person?
He looked around, and the woman was blown away by the wind. Apparently, the assumption turned out to be correct.

In October 1995, several people got together. The meeting was rare and significant. One of those present came up with the idea: to cut on such an occasion a consecrated egg, which had been lying since Easter in the holy corner in front of the icons.
Yes, it's been ruined for a long time. How much time has passed! the rest doubted.
- It's sacred. Let's see. May we have Easter joy today!
They cut it.
- Wow! - burst out from someone.
The egg turned out to be fresh, as if cooked yesterday, not only in appearance, but also in taste.
Recorded June 2000


"I'm not asking for a wedding..."

"Whoever receives one of these children in My name receives Me"
(Mark 9:37).
- Well, how did you go? - I ask my friend after a trip to Russia.
- Yes thank God. Everything turned out so well that I did not expect. When I received a telegram that my daughter-in-law had died, my brother was in prison, and their four children were left to their own devices, I didn’t remember myself at all. Fire in the head. How could this happen? I talked to my husband: what, they say, to do? You know, he has a complex character, and his health is not the same (blind in one eye), and plus his age - 68 years old, not a boy. Both of us are disabled. He says: "We must take the children." We borrowed a hundred dollars and drove off. First by bus, then by train, then another transfer. It's not a joke - to go from Tbilisi to the Russian wilderness through ten borders (who only set them?!). Moreover, we go and do not know how much money we will return from there. We've arrived. Brother in the bullpen, in the district center. The bride has already been buried. They killed drunks in a fight. She was only twenty-nine years old. The Kingdom of Heaven, eternal rest... The children are intimidated, traumatized, the eldest is ten, the rest of the girls are eight, six and three years old. We need to go urgently. I found out that my brother, before all this happened, earned two million on the farm with Russian money (old). I went to the checkout. The answer is well-known: “There is no money. The entire Ivanovo district has not received any salaries or pensions for six months now.” I tell them:
- Find money for me. I don't live across the street from you. Where did you come from! I need to take out the orphans. I'm not asking you for a wedding!
And why I gave them such a comparison - I myself do not know. Apparently, God made me think. I just look, the cashiers are whispering and telling me slowly: “Come tomorrow, we will give it out.”
I came the next day, received the money and went to collect the children on the road. We are leaving, we hear, there is a hubbub in the village council. In the village, after all, they found out that they had given me the money. The chief accountant arrived and scolded the cashiers: why did they give two million? It turns out that her daughter is getting married soon, so she hid this amount for her daughter for the wedding. And when I accidentally said about the wedding, the cashiers decided that I knew everything, they got scared and therefore they gave it. Even though I don’t really understand religion, I just heard that God helps orphans. Now I think it's true... A year ago, you know, I was dying and survived. Everyone said it was a miracle. And now it's clear why. For their sake - she nodded at the girls - my life was extended. All my life I dreamed of having a child, and it was not given, but now at the age of fifty I got two (the other two were taken away by relatives). And yet, you know, I never cease to be amazed. I was driving here and wondering what I would wear them. So my friends ran running, as soon as they found out what had happened, they brought rags with bags - there was nowhere to put them. And we got money. True, my husband works like a convict, without days off. Most importantly, we are not poor. And I was very afraid of it. Three-year-old Svetka calls us mom and dad ...
Happened in September 1996.

Dear reader friends!

Last summer, we already introduced you to the book of the now forgotten writer A.A. Dobrovolsky (a pseudonym in the Soviet literary space - A. Trishatov) "Ten mines". The chapter “Kremlin” was published on our website – the author’s childhood recollection of the miraculous help he and his younger brother received from the holy reverend princess Euphrosyne, the wife of the patron saint of our church, the holy noble Grand Duke Dimitry Donskoy.

Today we bring to your attention a fragment of another chapter from this book. And its theme is also holy help, only in the days of the narrator’s youth, when, being in difficult life circumstances, he clearly and visibly felt in his life the patronage of the Mother of God Herself, having met with one of Her miraculous icons.

Stories like this one are always read with special interest because for many of us they evoke vivid memories of what happened in our own destiny. We carefully keep them in memory, share them with loved ones; these stories are sometimes passed down in families from generation to generation, but, unfortunately, quite rarely become the property of a wide circle of people ... But in them the history of a person’s personal relationship with God and His saints is surprisingly connected not only with the history of a particular parish, but also with the history of the Church of Christ itself, as well as, often, with the history of the country, the people ... Gathering together, these small, sometimes quite simple, heartfelt, faith-filled and love stories about the miracle of God's leadership of human destiny become a real chronicle - soulful, instructive, encouraging and comforting reading, a subject for reflection, and sometimes a long-awaited answer to our questions.

A.A. Dobrovolsky. "Ten mines" (fragment).<~h3>

I.

October 17 arrived. After the October Revolution, everyone's life changed. General confusion, uncertainty about the future, loss of property and all material values, devastation, hunger, disease - all this followed one after another. All my plans collapsed. Along with all the others, the newspapers and magazines with which I was connected were also closed. All printing houses were nationalized, including Ryabushinsky's printing house, where my second book of stories was typed. My acquaintances immediately thinned out. The writers were leaving. Many left for the not yet devastated south, others completely emigrated from Russia.

In our family, only Varya worked, and there were four of us. I, and always sick, was now sick all the time. How to live, what to do, how to alleviate Varya's desperate situation, I completely ceased to understand, saw no way out, and suffered terribly. My friend Vanya did his best to support me and come up with something for me. And so he began to develop such a plan in front of me. Through the Galitskys, arrange me in some sanatorium in Sokolniki. Let me live there for a few months, and during that time something will become clear. Dear Vanya, he tried his best to help me somehow.

Somehow, shortly after our conversation with him, he came to me in Demidovsky Lane in a car, which he got from one of the party members he knew, and took me to Sokolniki. The Galicians received us with all cordiality. But, after talking with us, Stepan Pavlovich announced that all our plans were unrealistic and unrealistic. Sanatoriums and hospitals are closed. There is nothing to eat there, as everywhere around.

Evgenia Alexandrovna consoled us as best she could. Finally, she said resolutely: “Let Alexander Alexandrovich live with us for a while. Maybe we will dissipate his heavy state of health. We'll feed him a little. We still have everything, thank God.” She was so kind, so affectionate, so maternally caring that we all decided that it would be fine, and I stayed with the Galitskys. (…)

The Galitskys' apartment was large, with large bright windows, with whitewashed walls like a hospital. It was, as Vanya said, a truly bright house. And I walked around this "bright house" as if it were my own. Once I went into the office of Evgenia Alexandrovna. My attention was drawn to one large icon, hung not as usual in the corner of the room, but on the wall, high above the table. The Mother of God was also depicted on it in an unusual way. Not with a baby in her arms, but with a book. When I was examining the icon, Evgenia Alexandrovna entered the room. She said: “I see how you are carefully looking at the image of the Mother of God. This is an icon of the Kaluga Mother of God, the patroness of my native city. You pray to Her, ask Her for your needs. You will see, She will hear you and bring you out of your difficult circumstances, and arrange your life. What I am telling you is for sure, it has been tested.”

And she went out, shutting the door behind her. Her words were spoken with such faith and conviction that I did as she advised me. I knelt before the icon of the Queen of Heaven and with all zeal and with tears prayed to Her: “Mother of God, You see how difficult it is for me now. Where can I find a way out? How can I arrange my life? Help me, All-Merciful!"

The next day I returned home. Mom was very happy with me: “Sasha, it’s good that you came. And yesterday Vasya Filippov came without you and was very upset that he did not find you. But he wanted to come back."

Vasya was my high school friend. We spent all our high school years in close friendship. In the summer I usually went with him to Ostankino, where the Filippovs had their own dachas. In this family, I was completely like a native. I have not seen Vasya since the 14th year, when he was drafted into the army and went to war. He was wounded, was ill for a long time and lay in various hospitals. Yes, and then I did not live in Moscow, but in Petrograd. I did not know anything about him, and his appearance made me very happy. Coming to me on the same day and finding me, he immediately said: "Sanka, let's go with me to Kaluga." He served in Kaluga as a traveling agronomist at the Kaluga Provincial Union of Cooperation. “You will live at Oleinichak, and I will bring you food from trips.”

I took his invitation to go to Kaluga as a quick answer from the Mother of God to my prayer addressed to Her in front of Her Kaluga icon. I saw that the Mother of God was taking me to her city, that She would arrange for me there.

Two days later Vasya and I left for Kaluga.

II.

We arrived in Kaluga on the feast of the Nativity of the Virgin. When we entered the station, the first thing I saw: in the corner of the entrance room was a huge icon of the Kaluga Mother of God, covering the entire corner of the wall. In front of the icon, in massive candlesticks, a multitude of candles were burning, blazing like a fiery bush. I involuntarily stopped and bowed to the Queen of Heaven who called me here. Somewhat bewildered, I asked a monk standing near the icon: “Is this a miraculous icon?” He smiled, but answered calmly: “The miraculous icon of the Kaluga Mother of God is located in the village of Kaluzhka, four miles from the city. And if you came to worship Her, now She is visiting us in the city cathedral.”

Leaving the station, I said to Vasya, who was hiring a cab to the city: "Vasya, you take me to the cathedral, I want to pray, and then I will find the way to Oleinichaki alone after mass."

During my student years, I somehow had to spend the Christmas holidays in Kaluga with the same Vasya, who was serving his expulsion from Moscow here with his sister. On that visit, I also got to know the Oleiniczak family. Vasya and Dunya were then very far from religion and the Church, and while I was with them in Kaluga, I lived a rather scattered life common to us. Trips, guests, balls in the Noble Assembly. I had never been to the cathedral then, and I don't remember if I saw it.

Approaching the cathedral now, I was struck by its extraordinary beauty. It was a golden autumn. Wonderful day. Feast, as I said, the Nativity of the Virgin. The white buildings surrounding the cathedral, all of the same general style, created some surprisingly harmonious architectural ensemble. The cathedral stood, not obscured by anything, in the center of this white quadrangle, in a through green square. Sparse, transparent alleys did not close, but even more highlighted the whiteness of the cathedral and decorated it. The shadows of quivering leaves with gentle trembling enlivened its austere walls. The round and wide drum was covered to the very brim with a silver dome. It, like an inverted silver bowl, overshadowed the entire building, soothing the eye with its gentle brilliance and the purity of its impeccable slope.

I entered the cathedral and through all the people saw in front of the open Royal Doors on the ambo with high steps of the bishop. He was all golden in his attire, thin and transparent, so similar to the great old man, Metropolitan Philaret of Moscow, whose portrait in colors and gold always hung in my grandmother's room. The bishop held high the dikirium and trikirion. His voice, aged, but heard everywhere, proclaimed:

- Look down from heaven, O God, and see and visit this vineyard, and confirm it, and plant it with Your right hand.

He blessed the people, and three boys in golden surplice, who came out to the middle in front of the Royal Doors, sang with surprisingly well-chosen and clear voices: “Holy God…”

So this is where the Queen of Heaven led me.

After the service, I was finally able to approach the holy and miraculous icon. And with all zeal and with tears he prayed: “Mother of God, I resort to You, do not turn Your face away from me, a sinner, lost and not knowing how to live. As You know, arrange me in Your city, alone here without all my loved ones. Save me from want, from hunger, sickness and sorrow.”

And the Mother of God heeded my prayer. For ten months I lived in Her city and knew neither need nor sorrow. Whatever difficulty I faced, I went to her and said everything that frightened me, and she graciously showed me what to do. She never put my hope to shame, she never left my hope in vain.

For two weeks I lived as a guest in the Oleiniczak family and three sisters (…). Still, Vasya and I understood that it was always impossible to live like this. Vasya promised to arrange me a job at the Gubsoyuz, and everything seemed to be going well. He had excellent relations with all the authorities, and the authorities, of course, would not interfere with my admission. I rejoiced.

But here another obstacle arose. Unexpected. According to the rules of that time, it was possible to get a job only through the Labor Exchange. At the Labor Exchange, I immediately realized that my case was hopeless. I was bombarded with questions: where did you serve, profession, experience. And when they found out that I was a newcomer, they stopped talking to me. “If the Gubsoyuz needs a worker, we will send there the one who is in our queue.”

What to do? Vasya thought. And I went to the cathedral. And again I fervently prayed: "Mother of God, teach me, tell me what to do, how to get around the unexpected obstacle that interferes with my device." I decided to stay after the service and hold a prayer service. I wrote a note for the prayer service about the health of loved ones and put it in my pocket.

Before the prayer service, I went to the lectern to put down my note, and all the time again looked at the icon and asked the Mother of God for help. When I took out a note from my pocket, I took out some folded paper with it, which fell on the floor by the steps of the icon case. I picked it up, looked and remembered. When I was leaving Moscow for Kaluga, my friend, the writer Yutanov, came to the station to see me off. He, saying goodbye to me, said: “But I took this note for you from Okulov. You never know what you need in a foreign city.

The note contained only a few lines. Addressing the Kaluga comrades, Okulov wrote that he knew me and asked for assistance. Okulov was then a figure in the party, and the note had a very serious seal. I then put the note in my pocket at the station, not knowing why I needed it, and I had long forgotten about it. Now the whole prayer I stood and thought about her.

“Why, it is the Mother of God who tells you what to do.” With the firm conviction that this was so, the next day I went to the stock exchange and asked to be let through to the manager. I briefly told him that I wanted to enter the service of the Provincial Union of Cooperation, and submitted a note. He immediately issued my referral in a few minutes, and I triumphantly brought it to Vasya. So I entered the service of the secretary of the board in the Kaluga Gubsoyuz.

Everything seemed to go well, but a month later a new complication occurred. I lived with Oleinichak in a small room. It was an extension made by the elder brother Anatoly Oleinichak for himself to his liking. Completely isolated, with a separate entrance, both the door and the window overlooked a large apple orchard. Anatoly lived in Moscow. Without him, no one needed his room, and I felt very good in it.

And then one day the elder sister Margarita turned to me.

Everything in this house was wonderful, like nothing else. All the sisters laughed incessantly, and their house was known as "a ludicrous house." For some reason, they called me "August" in this "laughing house". So, one evening, when I came home from the service, Margarita, choking with laughter, announced to me:

“August, I must report to you, our Anatole sent a letter, he writes that he will soon arrive and will live in Kaluga for the winter. He comes with him - here she completely choked with laughter - and his Terpsichore.

I realized that I need to vacate the room. The next day in the Union, I told Vasya everything. He tried to calm me down and energetically set about finding a room for me. And again the difficulties of primitive communism arose before us. It turned out that all the vacated rooms are rented to the city council and again settled in the order of priority.

Finally, Vasya was pointed to a lady, where the tenant was going to leave either for Asia or for the Caucasus. The lady agreed to put me up if I got a warrant for the room. I got the warrant. I announced to my laughing sisters that I was moving, and suddenly this lady told Vasya that the tenant had changed his mind about leaving and was staying until spring. What a desperate situation I am in! I now went to the cathedral constantly, every Sunday is a must. And now, having come to the cathedral, I am straight, without waiting for the end of the service. I crouched on the steps in front of the icon of the Mother of God and told Her about my circumstances, about my grief and hopeless situation. I climbed the steps and, praying and asking for help, venerated the icon. When I began to go down the stairs and had not even gone down to the floor, a lady approached me with a question: “Are you the person who wants to rent a room from me? If this is you, then you can move even now after mass. My tenant left today."

I have already said that I used to go to the cathedral all the time. My new room was very close to the cathedral and I went there in all weather, rain and snow. The Kaluga cathedrals served excellently. Bishop's services were wonderful in the cathedral. Such deanery, harmony, exemplary order could not be found everywhere. And what splendor and beauty of vestments! All these lalas and pearls on miters, diamond panagias.

Bishop Feofan (Tulyakov), apparently, was very fond of Divine services, understood and felt it subtly. The choir in the church was wonderful. Among the female voices was one absolutely amazing. It was a teenage girl Lida Rumyantseva with a voice of such beauty that people came to listen to her as if she were at some kind of concert.

I lived in Kaluga for ten and a half months. Been every week church service. I have almost completed the full yearly cycle of Divine Services, from the Nativity of the Theotokos to the Dormition Fast.
For me it was a real school. Here, in the temple, through the Divine service itself, through icons and church singing, I learned and communed with the truths and sacraments of Christianity. The rest was supplemented by domestic prayer and zeal for the Mother of God. My religious mood was, of course, noticed in my service. But the women, typists and secretaries with whom I was in constant communication - all these Kashkins, Nazimovs, Larins, Durasovs - all these were representatives of the old noble families, whom the revolution that took place in Russia drove in search of a piece of bread for our sad work. All these women were themselves religious, and my behavior did not bother them much. It, perhaps, not only embarrassed, but surprised one of our typists, Maria or Marusya Preobrazhenskaya. The daughter of a very venerable and respected archpriest in Kaluga, she, as was often the case in pre-revolutionary times, coming from a spiritual family, was herself far from religion. She was especially struck by my zeal for the Mother of God. She once told me: “You are kind of wonderful. For you, the Kaluga Mother of God is like a mother.” I was silent. I didn't want to let anyone into my inner world.

As time went. Gone great post, Easter, Trinity. Mom began to write to me that she really wants me to return, that they all miss me very much, that my arrival is necessary, otherwise one room will be taken away from us. There was another reason that made me think about returning. The whites were advancing in the south. Staying in Kaluga became dangerous. But when I came to the cathedral, I felt sad to the point of tears to leave this church world that had become so dear and necessary to me. I saw the miraculous icon only when I arrived in Kaluga. Usually she was in the village of Kaluzhka, and I reproached myself very much that all summer long I had not gathered there, I had not seen Her again. I prayed fervently in front of the conciliar list from her, I asked the Mother of God: “Do not leave me in the future. Teach me, show me who to seek guidance from, so that my beginning spiritual life does not weaken, does not fade away.

But the day of departure has been fixed. I went to Moscow with a whole group of our cooperators. I found that it would be more convenient for me. Traveling by rail was not easy at that time, and I hoped that my co-operators would help me. And the Union gave horses to the station.

On the eve of my departure, I went for a walk around Kaluga, saying goodbye to my favorite places. I remember walking through the grove from the Oka to the city. It was evening. suddenly poured bell ringing. One by one, all the Kaluga churches pestered him. I asked the women I met: “Why are they calling like that?”

“Yes, the Lady is being carried to the cathedral,” they answered me, “she has come to us bitter ones from Kaluga.

I rushed to the cathedral. Lord, how I prayed tonight! How I wept and thanked the Queen of Heaven that She had come to see me off and bless me!

III.

The next day I left. I came to Gubsoyuz with things. I had few things. Some kind of clumsy knot, a basket ... I had nothing to take home. Not so with my companions. They loaded bags and boxes. They brought all sorts of food. We were already sitting in a cab with one of our purchasing sales specialists. At this time, Marusya Preobrazhenskaya came running to us. She said goodbye to my neighbor, and then turned to me a little embarrassedly: “Alexander Alexandrovich, take this from me. You loved the Kaluga Mother of God so much.
I took her down from the shrine for you. Remember me, sinful Mary." She handed me an icon wrapped in paper. I was ready to cry, it shocked me so much. I took the holy icon in my hands. We've already gone. And so I rode, holding the icon in my hands. I also held it in my hands on the train. It seemed sacrilege to me to put it in a basket or put it on a shelf. And the co-operators, perhaps good-naturedly, laughed at me: who is carrying butter to Moscow, who is flour, who is bacon, and Comrade Dobrovolsky - the Kaluga Mother of God.

When I got home and took off the paper, I was very interested. Marusya, of course, without understanding, wrapped the Most Pure Face with pages from the calendar of the cross. Large format, they covered the icon well. But what was remarkable: on the pages with which the icon was covered, portraits and an article were printed - biographical information and an exposition of the teachings of one of our Russian ascetics - St. Ignatius Brianchaninov, about whom I knew nothing before.

The Mother of God did not leave even my last request. In Her icon, She remained with me and pointed me to Saint Ignatius as a mentor in my spiritual feat.