The Catalog of Good Deeds: Personal Stories

Showing posts with label Personal Stories. Show all posts

Don’t you worry, don’t be anxious:

Time of happiness will bloom!

Just you wait and just be patient:

The award will find you soon.

To mark the day of Elder Nikolai Gurianov’s blissful repose, we would like to share the memories of those who had the chance to talk with our dear spiritual guide. He is undoubtedly a spiritual guide for our St. Elisabeth Convent. Many years ago, Elder Nikolai blessed our spiritual father, Archpriest Andrew Lemeshonok, to build the Convent. Father Nikolai handed him a 5-rouble bill with the image of a church, and said, “People will give you the rest.” It was our first donation…

The life story of Olga Kormukhina, a famous singer, is amazing and wonderful. She got married thanks to the prayers of our dear Elder Nikolai:

Next time, I asked him about my private life. I said, ‘Father, I would like to remain chaste.’ I was certain that if I wanted to continue singing, it would preclude me from becoming a nun, even though I was very eager to go to a convent, I was ready. I couldn’t imagine a different road for myself. I told him that my only obstacle was that I hadn’t given birth to a child and therefore hadn’t accomplished my mission as a woman. He looked at me and said, “You’re not going to have kids.” I burst into tears! Then he brought an icon of the Holy Royal Martyrs to me, and he was praying for a long time, I just can’t describe it with words. I was in some kind of a flow, an ecstatic state. Naturally, Father Nikolai was the source of this state. I felt that I was between him and Someone else, whom he was asking for something. It took a while, fifteen or twenty minutes. Suddenly, he turned to me and said, with love and pain in his eyes, “The Lord will do what you want.” He added, “She won’t be ill.”

And indeed, while I was pregnant and then gave birth and fed my daughter, we didn’t get ill at all, even though doctors had predicted that the girl would have Down’s Syndrome."

During one of my visits, the elder saw an icon of the Guardian Angel, which I had received as a gift from a spiritual child of Metropolitan John. That icon stood by His Eminence’s deathbed when he was dying. Of course, it’s a really sacred object for me and my family. So, when Father Nikolai saw that icon, he asked me, “Who did you get that sacred icon from?” I realised that he was aware of its previous owner. So I replied, “A spiritual child of Metropolitan John gave it to me.” He said, “Keep it!” He blessed everyone and let them kiss that icon. That’s what an elder means. You don’t have to speak too many words with him. When I told him, “Father, I’d like to remain chaste,” he simply stroked me on my chin—his usual way of casting away bad thoughts. He said, “You shall get married.”

Now I had to struggle with my unwillingness to get married. I had almost convinced myself into becoming a nun and no longer considered any other alternative, so the prospect of marriage was… well, not wholly undesirable but still hard to swallow. I had already known what a marriage was really like. An abbess once said that it could be more difficult than living in a Convent, if it’s done right. I was fully aware of the fact that I’d have a hard time obeying my husband, given my character.

After Father Nikolai announced God’s will about my future life, I began praying, “O Lord, You know I’m not ready. Please make me ready to accept this decision with my whole heart and my soul.” And I started whining like a stupid girl. I said, “Lord, You know that I will have to continue being a singer. You remember how difficult it has always been for me to find good songs. It’s such a pain. One out of a hundred, and even then it has to be tailored to match my requirements. Please may he be a composer, O Lord! And You know how hard it has been for me to find the right arrangement of my songs because I don’t like anything that arrangers do. May he be a good arranger. Lord, You know how highly I value myself, so he must be a world-class musician, or else I will hardly obey him in work-related issues. And… he must be at least two years older and never married before.” Imagine? That request was granted in its entirety. By the way, girls, it shows you that sometimes it’s okay to pray.

I met my future husband in a monastery. I had seen him before and I had even been in love with him. I approached him and asked, “Hello, are you Alexei Belov?” He replied, “Yes, I’m from Gorky Park band.” And I said, “I’m Olga Kormukhina, a singer.” He said, “Interesting!” We went to the nearest café and had a cup of coffee. We immediately recognised that we had a lot in common, surprisingly. And he said, “My greatest dream is to visit Elder Nikolai Gurianov.”

God’s will was for him to go to Elder Nikolai together with me. When we were about to go to the island, I called Father Nikolai’s cell attendant and said, “Aunt Nina, please ask Father Nikolai if he blesses me to bring Alexei to him.” She responded, “He does.” I asked, “Aunt Nina, please ask him to pray for good weather.” We had planned to go there in September when it rains often but I wanted Alexei to have a wonderful trip. He thought to himself, “How arrogant she is, asking the elder for good weather.” He didn’t know that I was asking for good weather to make him happy. I knew how Father reacted to requests like those. It was evidence of our childlike faith. You see? Ask, and it will be given to you.

After the meeting, Father Nikolai blessed us to go on a walk around the island. We spent five days walking around the island, and Alexei later told me, “I was feeling that it was not accidental that Father Nikolai had told us to go on a walk.” And he kept observing me.

In fact, it was a real obsession, and we both saw it. We didn’t resist, I just said, “If your mother doesn’t bless our marriage, I’ll say no.” He went back to the elder and said, “Father, what should I do? My mother doesn’t want me to get married.” Father Nikolai responded, “I say, I bless you.” And he added, “The Lord will instruct your mother.” Then we brought his mother to the elder, and everything went fine.

Now we live happily and love one another. Of course, it is thanks to Father Nikolai’s prayers, and one also has to work hard to improve relationships, it has to be done on a daily basis. Alexei is very wise, and he has the gift of love.

Photos and a fragment of an interview with Olga Kormukhina are taken from her official website http://olgakormuhina.ru

August 24, 2018

St. Elisabeth Convent

No Orthodox Christian in Russia doubts the existence of Demons, and that they wage brutal war against people. Neither do they doubt that Christ is stronger than demons; that He has won the war and continues to conquer. Why are they so sure? Because they see it with their own eyes. They see the pitiful victims of demonic possession who come to church to find relief but are tormented by the demons for doing so. Anywhere we go in the world we can see the result of diabolical hatred—violence, lewdness, profanity, coldness of heart—however, we fail to see the cause. But in the presence of the power of God, they are unmasked and revealed. The curtain is withdrawn that hides the puppeteer behind the puppets.

When I was in Russian, I stayed near a monastery where a priest lived who performed exorcisms. The rite of exorcism in the Orthodox Church is a formal service that has been the same for centuries. It includes generous amount of holy water, and is highlighted by the reading of the Gospel passages wherein Christ drives the demons out of people and demonstrates His authority over them. Just as the demons in the Gospels wail and lament when Christ appears, so they wail during these services.

Once the services are in full swing, the demons being to show themselves. One woman rages in a male voice, another person shakes violently, another shrieks in fear, yet another is thrown to the floor, losing consciousness. They scream their hatred for the priest, vowing to have their revenge as he douses them with holy water. Some demons make jokes some sound like dissatisfied customers (“I don’t have to take this!”), others are just raw anger and hatred. But the loudest noise always seems to be that of animals: mooing, crowing, and especially barking and growling.

Not all of the victims were adults. I saw one young girl being dragged and carried up to the priest. She was flailing and howling and wailing. When the priest finally came close enough to douse her with holy water, she moaned in a ghostly voice, which trailed off as she stopped her thrashing, finally collapsing. I saw another boy, held in his mother’s arms, who has the appearance of a poor, special ed. Child. He looked as though he was in distress and pain, just before he vomited on the floor.

Everywhere wailing, moaning, barking, convulsions, shrieking. It was a vision of hell. “Yes, you may attend,” the priest permitted me after I asked to witness and exorcism, “But stand near the icon of the Mother of God, and say the Jesus Prayer (‘Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner’).” This is not something to be taken lightly. It is not a horror film, not a ghost story, but pure evil tormenting real human beings.

Naturally, I could not help but wonder why these people are possessed. But it is not right to inquire—they are sufferer and it is not for me to judge. But there are cases when the demon itself provides the answer. One woman was being exorcised when, to the priest’s astonishment, the demon informed him that God Himself does not will that she be released, “She killed three babies in her womb,” the demon revealed, “I am here to punish her.” Very many ended up in their pitiful state after going to “psychic healers.” They had turned to these so-called healers with some physical illness, or simply in search of pseudo-spirituality, and received some relief of fulfillment. But then they became demonically possessed, for the “healing” or “experience” was made possible solely through the psychic’s own pacts with demonic powers. These people, however, were impossible to help if they were not prepared to abandon the pseudo-spirituality and embrace the spiritual life of the Church, putting their trust in Christ.

But what about the children? What had they done to deserve this? Usually they have nothing. Their parents had brought this catastrophe upon them by their own unwholesome lives. This may sound strange and unfair, but we all acknowledge that a mother who smokes puts smoke into her child’s lungs, and a mother who drinks nurses her child with alcohol. When a father curses, he puts curse words into his child’s vocabulary. So is it really so surprising that parents who immerse themselves in the forces of darkness being those forces down upon their children?

The service concludes and I am in awe. The priest’s countenance us one of intense concentration, authority and sternness. Throughout the service he held the holy water sprinkler like I mighty whip; now he holds the cross as an invincible shield and a trophy of victory. His long, grey hair is a bit tousled, and sweat glistens on his forehead. Those poor people kiss the cross and clamor desperately to receive his blessing, then gradually leave the church. They feel better. In spite of the demon’s torment during the service, they now feel relieved and strengthened. They can go on, they are no longer overcome by despair.

Some people come to the exorcisms thinking that they are possessed, but they are not—it is a sort of spiritual hypochondria. Others speak blasphemies against God and man, not realizing whose mouthpiece they are being, and therefore will not even consider going to church. But wonders never cease. Once when the Communists were in power, some top party members were “touring” the monastery, laughing at its out datedness. One of these happened into the church where an exorcism was taking place. You can imagine the confusion that ensued when she began crowing involuntarily, like a rooster. She realized her great mistake in denying God, and became a Christian.

Still others have chronic, seemingly incurable illnesses that bring them to the monastery in search of healing, and there they encounter the power of Christ, which exposes the demon inhabiting them. Then the battle begins—fasting, praying, repenting, suffering. These are their “medicines.” But what is the doctor’s scalpel? Humility. I cannot forget one incident related to me by a possessed woman herself. At her exorcism, the demon in her reviled the priest, saying that he would spit on him. “Go ahead,” the priest answered, “Spit. It will make me humbler.” At this the demons shrieked as if seared by a blowtorch. But this is not surprising. Jesus Christ, by Whose authority this Orthodox priest, and indeed all those apostles, saints and righteous ones before cast out devils, was also spat upon, reviled, even crucified. But the devil’s rage was his own defeat.

By Nun Cornelia

Originally Printed in Issue 6, 1995

Source: http://deathtotheworld.com/articles/exorcisms-in-russia-from-an-eyewitness/

By Nun Juliania (Denisova)

I came to the Convent with a great but probably naïve desire to turn from a boss into a subordinate and obey someone at last.

When we stay in the world, our “obedience” to our spiritual father is deformed sometimes and boils down to us making the priest choose between two options of our choosing, “Father, please tell me what to do: this or that? Really, this option is great, isn’t it? Isn’t it?” The poor priest has nothing else but to agree with you. Or, “Should I get married or become a nun?”

Do we think we have the right to transfer responsibility from ourselves onto the spiritual father’s shoulders, so that he could be blamed for your failure in marriage or in the monastery? It looks like some kind of deception, albeit inarticulate. When I was making my mind to go to the Convent, I also asked my spiritual father… Well, how does one know what life in a convent is like? It’s like going to war: you’ve read books and watched films about it but you’ll never really know what it is like until you hear a missile explode near you, and you’ll be lucky if it doesn’t hit you. Our Father Andrew Lemeshonok had been my spiritual father since 1993. I had reached the decision to become a novice already, and the abbess with the sisters had approved it, and Father Andrew had blessed me already, “Please come, Sister Irina.”

And so we were sitting on a bench in Ss Peter and Paul Cathedral after a service, and I said, “I think I should go consult an elder, perhaps?” And he replies, “Of course, you can… But anyway, you’ve got to decide it for yourself.” His words “You’ve got to decide for yourself anyway” left an indelible mark on my memory for the rest of my life. Nothing can make up for absence of a vocation inside: either you have it — this God’s voice telling you the right thing to do — or you don’t. You can run from one spiritual advisor to another to have your problem sorted out the way you want it. And voilá — you’ve got someone to blame your failure on. Let’s be honest, does it never happen? It happens all the time. Some people don’t realise it but some do insist on their own solutions. We can’t even imagine how much trouble one can find himself in due to his wilfulness!

So when I came to the Convent, I wanted to start obeying someone first (that was my stated goal) and humble myself down, so that people could order me around and not say “please”. Naturally, no one likes it by definition. I’m a regular person, not a masochist. No one wants to get hurt and be treated rudely, for instance; in principle, no one wants to feel any kind of pain. However, when you go to the Convent, the other part of your self — the spiritual one — becomes a little bigger. It is an act of God, of course. Because no one would become a monk or a nun without God. No one would fall in love, either, because the feeling of love is a bonus that God gives us, it’s just that we often don’t realise it.

I was instantly appointed to do the job that I had been doing my whole life. That is, I do what I have learned to do. There are few people in our Convent who have an obedience related to their past occupation. At first, they sent me to the choir, where I had to learn to sing, strange though it may sound. Singing in the Convent is totally different. Right now, I’ve got used to it but then… Sure, I heard how the sisters sang and even participated in the shaping of their worship repertoire. I helped Mother Martha and trained the sisters a little but it was, so to say, like someone looking out of the window of a train hurrying past the station. You’ve got to get off the train and spend several years on that station to know how people really live there. That was how I was learning to sing. I was often criticised: I knew it well that I was making many mistakes. It was a serious school.

I believe I managed to learn everything in half a year. I met with our abbess and she told me that I was to be in charge of the choir. The choir was in some kind of a crisis at that time because Mother Martha (Guskova) who was the chief precentor of the Convent was appointed to supervise the Rehabilitation Centre. The Rehabilitation Centre is a huge part of the life of the Convent but it’s located too far, so she couldn’t be in two places at the same time. Mother Maria (Derzhanovich) is a wonderful precentor, too, but she is the Convent’s treasurer and cannot pay a lot of attention to the choir. That was why they appointed me. Perhaps, due to my age, or because they thought that I was a well-trained precentor, “widely known in narrow circles.” In fact, I have a long way to go before I reach the level of Mother Martha and Mother Maria. They appointed me the chief precentor in order to have someone responsible for the choir, to have a person who can organise things and lay out the choir timetable. That was when I began to conduct the choir more often: I conducted the choir during all Sunday All-Night Vigils and weekday services.

That was what the situation was like until Mother Anfissa became the precentor of the Monastic Choir. Currently, it is her who is the chief precentor of the Monastic Choir, and I simply help her sometimes. Yes, it was difficult for me at first, with regard to choir singing. I had an alternative point of view on lots of things: what to sing and how to sing. Everything is different here… Gradually, I got used to it and came to realise that it was not accidental that this choir was like that. It doesn’t have to be similar to a female choir at all. The definition “female choir” doesn’t match the sound of our Monastic Choir. It doesn’t sound like any other female choir with trained voices. It’s impossible because no one has the time or opportunity to train voices. We invited a vocal teacher to do it but it didn’t help because we have a different spirit. It doesn’t mean that the secular choirs are bad, it’s just that we’re different. I fully agree with it, and this is what our two choirs — the Monastic Choir and the Festive Choir, although it’s a professional choir — have in common. Or even three choirs — we can mention the Brothers’ Choir in this respect, too. The sound and the voices are simple, straightforward, and open. Needless to say, there are amazing voices in all three choirs! However, the three choirs are united by the “natural” voice sound. There is another thing that they have in common, and it is znamenny (and Valamo as part of it) chant, which dominates our soundscape here in the Convent.

The choir taught me so much. It is a place where you’ll learn to obey even if you don’t want to. It is extremely hard to sing in the choir. All singers know it. People allow themselves more in non-monastic church choirs, unfortunately. Some singers are far from the church, judging by their outfits and their gossip, newspapers, and smartphones during rehearsals. The Monastic Choir is free from it, and I like it…

Almost instantly, one or two months after I came to the Convent, Father Andrew blessed the Festive Choir to become part of our community.

It was called The First Choir of Ss Peter and Paul Cathedral at that time. Our Father Andrew is tuned in to all suggestions, like a God’s radar. He always evaluates if this or that object or thing is what God needs. So he decided that yes, that was what Good needed, and that the new choir was a great idea. Indeed, it was really helpful because the Convent began to grow very fast. A new dormitory, a school, the House of Love of Labour, the Pilgrims’ House, and rehabilitation centres… There are so many new projects now that we have eighteen liturgies a week — sometimes even more, when we have liturgies in our educational facilities. We are in need of singers to provide the singing during all those liturgies. That was why new choirs started to emerge. There were only two choirs at first: the Monastic Choir and the Brothers’ Choir. Today, there are also the Festive Choir, two choirs of lay sisters, a children’s choir, the Department of External Relations Choir, and this isn’t the limit, I guess.

August 23, 2018

St. Elisabeth Convent

I want to share how Grand Duchess Elisabeth has helped me in guiding me to Orthodoxy and strengthening my faith.

As a divorced single mother, I was living with my eight-year-old son Timothy near Albany, New York. My older brother bad become a monk at Holy Trinity Monastery, in Jordanville, and came occasionally to visit us. He would talk to me about his Orthodox faith, and I would appear to listen, but I was not interested and therefore I did not really hear what he said. A turning point came in April 1989. Fr. Theophylact came to visit us one evening, and after he left I began wondering if there was some truth in what he was saying.

For many years I had been searching for a church where I felt I belonged. We had been raised Baptist and Lutheran, and I had been baptized at the age of nineteen in the Lutheran church. But I felt something was missing, and over the years I also attended Methodist, Dutch Reformed and Roman Catholic churches. I had recently become a member of a Presbyterian church, although there, too, I was not really satisfied, and I continued to pray that God would lead me to a church where I would not feel such emptiness.

It was soon after Fr Theophylact’s April visit that I learned I had a growth on my thyroid. The doctors thought it was cancerous, and I was frightened. I had always been very athletic and in good physical shape, and suddenly I was faced with cancer. This no doubt intensified my desire to find the “right Church,” and in July, I finally responded to Fr. Theophylact’s invitation to visit the monastery, it made a great impression — not only on me but also on Timothy. My brother gave us a tour, and we even attended a funeral. For the first time I really opened up to what he had to say and asked questions.

Early in August I drove again to the monastery and attended my first Divine Liturgy. It was a deeply moving experience. In spite of my worries about cancer, I felt very peaceful. Later that month, I was to have surgery to remove the growth on my thyroid. Fr. Theophylact requested one of the hieremonks to serve a moleben for me, which was done before the icon “Unexpected Joy,” and the tumor turned out to be benign. I firmly believe this was a miracle.

After my surgery, Fr. Theophylact came and anointed me with oil from Saint Nectarlos. He left and suddenly, inexplicably, I was overcome by a profound feeling of repentance. I wept and wept. Then I began reading a book that Fr. Theophylact had brought with him: Saint Elisabeth the New Martyr by Ludmila Koehler. I was never a reader, but this book captivated me. I felt a special closeness to the martyred Grand Duchess, and I was moved to tears by her life.

Shortly afterwards, on one of our trips to Jordanville, Timothy and I visited the nearby sisterhood, which is dedicated to Saint Elisabeth. There I experienced such peace and contentment. I scarcely noticed the two-hour drive home in the pouring rain.

That evening I framed the photo of Saint Elisabeth that one of the sisters had given me, and put it on my bedside table, I awoke that night to see light coming from the photo. The Grand Duchess had a white rope in her hand and held it out towards me. A feeling of peace enveloped me. After years of searching, I knew that I was on the right path.

In November of that year, Timothy and I became catechumens. Every weekend we drove to the monastery, to attend the Divine services. We were baptized on April 7, 1990, Lazarus Saturday, which coincided that year with the feast of the Annunciation. I took the name Elisabeth after the martyred Grand Duchess. Never had 1 experienced such inner joy and happiness. That night I awoke to see Saint Elisabeth, dressed in black monastic attire, kneeling at my bedside and praying.

Timothy and I continued our weekend trips to the monastery until, in July, we were able to move to Jordanville. By the prayers of Saint Elisabeth, we were permitted to stay at the sisterhood. This was a great blessing, because I soon became quite ill. After four days in the hospital and numerous tests, the doctors were still unsure as to what was causing me such pain. Only the following March did they finally determine that I had endometdosis. With my health problems compounded by financial insecurity, I am sure I would have become depressed had I not had the support of the sisters. We continued to live at the sisterhood until August, when we moved into our own apartment in Richfield Springs, only seven miles from the monastery.

I truly believe that it is through the prayers and intercession of Saint Elisabeth that God’s great mercy was so generously manifest to us in the events of those two and a half years. My successful operation, my becoming acquainted with Holy Trinity Monastery and the Sisterhood of Saint Elisabeth, our being baptized into the true Church, my becoming Elisabeth and having Saint Elisabeth as my heavenly protectress, and living in the Sisterhood of Saint Elisabeth for a year during my illness, where I was able to gain a firm foundation in the Orthodox faith.

As if all this were not blessing enough, in September 1993, an older woman asked my godmother (one of the nuns from the Saint Elisabeth sisterhood) and me to accompany her to Russia — and paid for our travel expenses. While in Moscow we stayed at the Martha-Mary Convent, founded by Saint Elisabeth, and were there for her name day, September 5/ 18. The convent buildings were in crying need of repair, but one could nevertheless strongly sense the Grand Duchess’s presence. The white roses she planted were still flourishing, and I was privileged to play her piano.

I am so unworthy of all that has happened, and I give all honor and praise to God and thankfulness to Saint Elisabeth for her faithful intercession. I hope that those who read this and who are not yet well acquainted with Saint Elisabeth will want to read about her inspiring life. There are two biographies available in English: Ludmila Koehler’s book, which has already been mentioned, and Grand Duchess Elisabeth of Russia: New Martyr of the Communist Yoke by Lubov Millar. Her life was devoted to helping people, and she continues to help people even now, as I myself can testify.

By Elisabeth Hawkins

Source: pravmir.com/by-her-prayers

Today marks the 20th anniversary of my reception into the one, holy, catholic and apostolic Church — the Orthodox Church. I was just 22 years old at the time and still in college (I had something of a “career” in college, accumulating one BA, most of another, and three minors, all while working to support myself).

In 1998, April 19 was Pascha, and at that Pascha 20 years ago, it was between Matins and the Divine Liturgy, when I was received into the Holy Orthodox Church.

2018 was my 21st Pascha, including 12 as a presbyter. It never gets old but instead is newer every year.

A lot has happened these past 20 years, and I can’t say that I really knew what to expect. There has been both pain and joy, both loss and gain, over the past two decades.

But I will say that this faith is deeper and stronger and more pervasive in its practice than I could have imagined in 1997 when I first learned of it. It is also both more difficult and more merciful than I could have known 20 years ago.

I have a long ways to go, but here are six things that I’ve learned over the past couple decades, and I do hope that my old friend Chris (a cradle Catholic) will stop referring to me as a “recent convert” now. (Heheh.)

1. It’s way less work than I could have imagined.

My impression 20 years ago of Orthodoxy was that it was like a kind of life-long boot camp, in which one is constantly engaged in grueling effort — all that fasting (yes, we always mention the fasting first), prayer, long services, etc. — in order to repent of sin and acquire the Holy Spirit. When I was 22, the “hardcore” feeling of Orthodox Christianity is part of what drew me to it.

But eventually I found out that it becomes part of “normal” life. You don’t stay in boot camp forever. Eventually you get out on the ocean and have to just mind the ship. And that’s what most people do most of their time. Of course, there are periods (e.g., Lent or pilgrimages) when we kick it up a few notches, because we need to do that from time to time, but human beings can’t spend all their time at full intensity.

2. It’s way more work than I could have imagined.

When they said that Orthodox Christianity was about repentance, I didn’t really know what that meant. For sure, when I did my life confession before becoming Orthodox, I had a lot of sins that I confessed, many of which I was quite ashamed of. But I didn’t really know how many deep-seated tendencies toward selfishness, being closed off, anger, resentment (I could go on) I actually had. And I didn’t know how much practice it would take to see improvement on those things.

This is not to downplay God’s grace, of course. The point here is that God’s grace is freely available to those who freely reach for it. But I wasn’t very good at reaching for it 20 years ago, and I didn’t really even know that. I know it much better now, and I pray that, by grace, I am better at reaching for it.

3. It’s much deeper than I could have imagined.

When I became Orthodox at 22, I thought I understood Orthodox theology and practice pretty well. That’s why I became Orthodox, right? But here I am, 20 years later, with an M.Div. under my belt, with seminary 11 years in the rear-view mirror, with 11 years of priestly ministry, including 9 as a pastor, and there are still a lot of things I just don’t get. There are still a lot of things I’m just beginning to get.

I’ve had to learn to say “That just isn’t my field” when asked questions I’m not really qualified to answer. And I’ve also learned that there is still so much of this beautiful Kingdom to explore. Even with 20 years of Orthodox life behind me — nearly my entire adulthood — I feel like I’m just getting started! That’s a great feeling.

4. Prayer is much more than I could have imagined.

When I really began to start paying attention to just trying to keep a daily prayer rule, I noticed something. First, I should say that it was “easy” when I was 22 to say morning and evening prayers every day — no problem! But then at some point it wasn’t happening every day. And then I’d start again. And then I’d have long periods where I just didn’t actually pay much attention to it — including after ordination. What was so basic, easy and elementary at first became almost the whole of the struggle. Thank God, though, that He’s sent me guides to help me in this.

One of the things that I’ve seen clearly — some of it only just within the past few years — is that prayer actually does do something. It may not “do” the thing that I’m wanting, hoping or asking, but it really is an opening up of the person to the grace of God. One experiment that I did (at the behest of my confessor) was to notice how I felt at my worst times of day and then to see if there were any correlation between that experience and whether I prayed that morning. And you know what? There was!

Probably the biggest reason that I have been so inconsistent with daily prayer at times in my life is that I generally didn’t think it did anything. I had no problem being consistent with brushing my teeth, getting coffee, eating breakfast, etc., because I could see and measure the effects of doing those things. But I had never actually checked whether daily prayer did anything. Well, it does. In praying in the morning, I receive God’s protection from many temptations. I’m not perfect — far from it — but when I do that prayer, the day is observably different.

5. Parishes are much more different from each other than I could have imagined.

When I became Orthodox, I don’t think I’d even visited more than a couple other parishes than the one I was joining. I didn’t know how different the customs, the music and even the commitment levels could be from one parish to another.

I remember one of my first conscious moments of knowing that there were differences was when I was asked by a fellow seminarian why I was Antiochian (some 6.5 years after I became Orthodox). The answer was that it had been the parish closest to my house. His question presumed, however, that I had made some kind of conscious choice between different parishes and picked the tradition that suited me best.

I’ve now been an active member of 5 different parishes all within the same tradition, and wow! are they different from each other. Even the two “converty” parishes I’ve been part of are quite different from each other.

And now especially with getting a chance to do speaking engagements all over the country, I’ve seen a lot of different traditions and ways of doing things. The thing I’ve learned is that every parish is on a journey. None will remain exactly as they are. So when I become part of a parish’s life, even if it’s just for a day, I’m joining them on that journey. I’ve also learned that experiencing other traditions and even other ways of brokenness is an enriching experience.

6. The only way to be an Orthodox Christian is to focus on Jesus Christ.

This might seem like a no-brainer, but honestly, 20 years ago, I don’t think I really knew that. I sort of assumed it, but focus isn’t made of assumptions. We have to keep returning to Jesus, exploring Who Jesus is, exploring how Who He is shapes everything in spiritual life. He is the One Who opens the door for us, the One Who is the Way, the One Who accompanies us on the journey, and the One Who is the destination. Everything is about Jesus Christ.

Possibly the most important thing to note about #1 and #2 above is that in both cases, what I had to learn was that spiritual life isn’t about making me a better person (however defined). It is about learning how to invite Christ more deeply into every part of myself.

And one of the most important lessons I’ve learned in this regard is that I can’t let myself become focused on the brokenness of either myself or other people within the Church. I recently watched a video of someone who visited an Orthodox church one time and decided not to be Orthodox because he experienced a particular kind of brokenness in that parish. He then extrapolated outward that brokenness is what the whole Orthodox Church is about. This man was looking at us from the outside, so it’s perhaps understandable how he could walk away with such a false sense, but those of us on the inside do it, too. We make our spiritual lives about the brokenness, and sometimes we walk away or just check out because of it — either because I can’t do it well enough myself or because those around me aren’t doing it well enough.

But it’s about Jesus. It always has been and always will be.

By Fr. Andrew Stephen Damick

Source: https://blogs.ancientfaith.com/roadsfromemmaus/2018/04/19/20-years-of-being-orthodox-6-things-ive-learned/

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

One of my favorite books comes from the last years of the Soviet Union. It is the story of Tatiana Goricheva, a member of the “intelligentsia” and a Soviet-era dissident. Her book, Talking About God Is Dangerous, offers fascinating insights into both a period of time and the period of a human soul’s conversion by grace. The little volume is out of print but can be found on the internet for as little as a dollar. I share a sample as she tells of her first confession.

***

We knew virtually nothing

…I had come to make my confession for the first time in my life. Shortly beforehand I had become a Christian by the grace of God. I had no deeper knowledge either of Christianity or of the church – who could have taught me? I and my newly-converted girl friend, both in the same position, learned what to do by imitating our old women, who zealously preserved the Orthodox faith and practices. We didn’t know anything. But we had something which in our day should perhaps be treasured more than knowledge: a boundless trust in the church, belief in all its words, in every movement and demand. Only yesterday we had rejected all authority and all norms. Today we understood the deliverance that we had experienced as a miracle. We regarded our church as the indubitable, absolute truth, in minor matters just as much as in its main concern. God has changed us and given us childhood: ‘Unless you become as children, you will not enter into the kingdom of heaven.’

I only knew that it was necessary to go to confession and to communion. I knew that both confession and communion were high sacraments which reconcile us with God and even unite us with him, really unite us with him in all fullness, both physical and spiritual. I was formally baptized by my unbelieving parents as a child. Whether they did that out of tradition or whether someone had persuaded them to do it, I never discovered from their explanations. Now at the age of twenty-six I had decided to renew the grace of baptism.

Like a hardened crust

I knew that the priest himself – the well-known confessor Father Hermogen – would ask me questions and guide my confession. Then the day before I read a little booklet in order to prepare myself for confession, I discovered that I had transgressed all the commandments of the Old and New Testaments. But quite independently of that it was clear to me that the while of my life was full of sins of the most varied kind, of transgressions and unnatural forms of behavior. They now pursued me and tormented me after my conversion, and lay like a heavy burden on my soul. How could I have not seen earlier how abhorrent and stupid, how boring and sterile sin is? From my childhood my eyes had been blindfolded in some way. I longed to make my confession because I already felt with my innermost being that I would receive liberation, that the new person which I had recently discovered within myself would be completely victorious and drive out the old person. For every moment after my conversion I felt inwardly healed and renewed, but at the same time it was as though I was somehow covered with a crust of sin which had grown around me and had become hard. So I to longed for penance, as if for a wash. And I recalled the marvellous words of the Psalm which I had recently learned by heart: ‘Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: wash me and I shall be whiter than snow.’

The experience of a miracle

And so my turn came. I went up, and kissed the gospel and the cross. Of course because I felt dismay and apprehension, I was afraid to say that I was confessing for the first time. Father Hermogen began by asking,

‘When did you last fail to go to church? What festivals have you deliberately neglected?’

‘All of them,’ I replied.

Then Father Hermogen knew that he was dealing with a new convert. In recent times new converts have come into the Russian church in large numbers, and they have to be treated in a different way.

He began by asking about the most terrible, the ‘greatest’ sins in my life, and I had to tell him my whole biography: a life based on pride and a quest for praise, on arrogant contempt for other people. I told him about my drunkenness and my sexual excesses, my unhappy marriages, the abortions and my inability to love anyone. I also told him about the next period of my life, my preoccupation with yoga and my desire for ‘self-fulfillment’, for becoming God, without love and without penitence. I spoke for a long time, though I also found it difficult. My shame got in the way and tears took away my breath. At the end I said almost automatically: ‘I want to suffer for all my sins, and be purged at least a little from them. Please give me absolution.’

Father Hermogen listened to me attentively, and hardly interrupted. Then he sighed deeply and said, ‘Yes, they are grave sins.’

I was given absolution by the grace of God: very easily, it seemed to me: for the space of several years I was to say five times a day the prayer ‘Virgin and Mother of God, rejoice’, each time with a deep prostration to the ground.

This absolution was a great support to me through all the following years. Our sins (the life of my newly-converted friend was hardly different from my own) somehow seemed to us to be so enormous that we found it hard to believe that they could disappear so simply, with the wave of a priest’s hand. But we had already had a miraculous experience: from the nothingness of a meaningless existence bordering on desperation we had come into the Father’s house, into the church, which for us was paradise. We knew that with God anything is possible. That helped us to believe that confession did away with sin. And the starets also said, ‘Don’t think about it again. You have confessed and that is enough. If you keep thinking about it you are only sinning all over again.’

By Fr. Stephen Freeman

Source: https://blogs.ancientfaith.com/glory2godforallthings/2009/03/27/a-story-of-repentance/

Subscribe to: Posts ( Atom )

Search This Blog

featured Slider

Elder Nikolai Gurianov: Being the Father of Many

Exorcism: a Story from an Eyewitness

"The Choir Was Teaching Me": Nun Juliania (Denisova) about Her Path to Monasticism and St. Elisabeth Convent

By the Prayers of St. Elisabeth: a True Story of the Saint's Help

6 Things You Can Learn for 20 years of Being Orthodox Christian

Personal Stories of Our Brothers: Rescued From The Death Row

The Experience of a Miracle: A Story about Confession and Repentance

Partners

Search This Blog

featured Slider

Elder Nikolai Gurianov: Being the Father of Many

Exorcism: a Story from an Eyewitness

"The Choir Was Teaching Me": Nun Juliania (Denisova) about Her Path to Monasticism and St. Elisabeth Convent

By the Prayers of St. Elisabeth: a True Story of the Saint's Help

6 Things You Can Learn for 20 years of Being Orthodox Christian

Personal Stories of Our Brothers: Rescued From The Death Row

The Experience of a Miracle: A Story about Confession and Repentance

About Our Blog

Most Popular Posts

Partners