Brother
Oleg Krivenkov has passed away but many people still remember him and pray for
his blissful repose. Here is his testimony of his encounter with God, which is
the first in our new series titled “Our Brothers” devoted to the lives of the
residents of the Men’s Rehabilitation center of St. Elisabeth Convent.
My journey to God began when I spent my summer
holidays in the village where my grandmother lived. She used to walk to a
church in Logoisk every Sunday, and she would always take me with her. My
parents were Communists. My father was a police officer, and my mother was a
boss in a project institute. Maybe they did believe in God but they could not
practice their faith openly. It turned out that I found myself in jail. I was
sentenced to death for stealing extremely large amount of state property. It
was a felony in the Soviet times, and now it is considered to be a legal
business. My father abandoned me in order to rescue his career, and my mother
divorced him because of that. I was only 22, I had finished my army service not
long before and had got married. And then I was sentenced to death. Nowadays
priests are allowed to visit prisons and talk with prisoners; they can give
presents to the prisoners for the feasts, but in those times they were only
allowed to visit those on death row. When a priest entered my cell, I did not
care who came to me. “Desperate” is a weak word to describe how I felt. I was
simply overwhelmed and numb. I wanted all this nightmare to vanish so that I
could go to the different world as soon as possible. It was because the
conditions in the death row were inhumane. There were no hygiene facilities in
jail altogether. Toilet and refectory were all in one room. One had to sit
around in handcuffs all the time, being under permanent control. Usually, there
are two prisoners in a cell but in the death row, you are alone in your cell.
The priest gave me a pocket-size Bible; or maybe, it
was not a Bible, I can't be sure now. He said,“Read *Our Father*, *Hail, Mary*,
and the Creed. Ask God to help you.”
I made an appeal against the sentence, and my mother
wrote to the High Court. I started to pray. It was not because I believed in
God: I simply believed that a priest would not lie. This trust was ingrained in
me since my childhood: my grandmother had taught me that I could always trust
priests.
My appeal was allowed in three months. They changed my
sentence to fifteen years, and one month thereafter, there was a second hearing
of my case, and I was sentenced to nine years in high security. I had spent
four years in jail when the construction of churches was finally allowed in
prison camps. A room for a church was allocated in our prison camp as well. I
went there, lit a candle, thanked the Lord, and that was all.
And then, there was prison, prison, and prison… If a
person is a believer, he is alone there. Nowadays one can practise his beliefs
openly, and there are priests who visit the prisoners. I do not know how people
would react in those times if anyone admitted that he believed in God. That guy
would not survive, they would mock him to death.
I do not recall being drawn to the church at that
time, like I am now. For instance, when I was waiting for a parcel, I would
pray, “Lord, help me to receive it soon!” I would also pray for my mother to
come and to be protected from evil. “Lord help me!” And I would always say,
“Thank You, Lord.”
Naturally, I had faith deep inside my soul. When I was
released, I went to church together with my mother. I divorced my wife. I
started stealing things. If only one gets jailed once, it is highly likely that
he will be jailed again after the first term. You get to know people in jail,
you become a part of their community, and there is a very specific community in
prison. I was in jail seven times, twenty-five years in total. Each time I was
released, I spent a month or two at home, drinking and stealing, and then I
went back to prison. I had no time for God.
Last time I was released in 2005, I went to a
substance abuse treatment center in order to have my name removed from their
register. I saw the Convent, entered the Convent's yard, and talked with some
people there. I thought, “I could stay here for some time.” Besides, local
police officers started paying too much attention to me. Whenever someone stole
anything, they would come to me. I was about to be jailed again. They would
arrest me for no reason.
At first, everyone comes here in order to save their
bodies. Some people hide from the police, some try to escape cold and hunger,
some try to get rid of alcohol addiction. One needs time in order to be able to
understand anything. Father Andrew used to say, “If we have no money, God will
give it to us.” I thought, “What are you talking about, Father? Who will give
money?” And then I saw that a church was built. Where did they get the money
from? Then they built the dormitory. It took me three or four years to finally
understand that Father Andrew was right. Now everything is fine, I am an
acolyte in the church.
Sometimes I do not feel like going to church – maybe,
it is because of my age, or because of something else. It is hard to stand for
one and a half hours. Sometimes I stand during the entire service, murmur the
chants to myself along with the choir and do not even notice how time flies. Everything
is fine, praise be to God.
I do not want to return to my past life. When I feel
like drinking, I come to Father Andrew and say, “I need to see my doctor.
Please give me a sick leave for three days.” I leave the rehab, drink some
wine, and come back. Father Andrew knows, of course, that I lie to him but he
allows me to go.
Recently, I decided that I do not need those drinking
days-off any longer. Again, this might be because of my age…
When
you consider the life and the actions of Brother Oleg during the last years of
his life, it is hard to imagine that the man had been sentenced to death. We
hope that his soul now stands prayerfully in front of God's throne…
July 23, 2018
St. Elisabeth Convent
CONVERSATION