The Catalog of Good Deeds: The Path to Orthodoxy

Showing posts with label The Path to Orthodoxy. Show all posts

Fr. Eugene Pavelchuk: There is no Christianity without carrying one's cross, i.e., without accepting God's will and cutting off one's own: Whosoever will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me (Mark 8:34). One must accept God's will wholeheartedly and without doubts. Of course, there is no Christianity without love. Love is the core.

First Memories of God

— My grandmother was a believer, — Father Eugene recalls. — She inspired my first memories of God. I was born in 1966. I grew under the Soviet regime with all that it meant. Still, I remember very well that my grandmother would pray all the time. She would even get up in the night to talk to God. She would mention all her relatives by names in prayer. I remember how I lay on my bed pretending that I was sleeping but instead, I was listening intently to her words. We slept in the same room.

I recall her stories about Jesus Christ, “There was Jesus Christ who was the Son of God. He healed many people and performed many miracles but then He was killed. They crucified him and buried him in a tomb. She would tell me this story, and it was almost as if a documentary chronicle unfolded in front of my eyes. “They lay him in the Tomb and blocked the entrance with a stone. When they returned the following morning to check the tomb, the stone was rolled away, and the tomb was empty.” My soul was terrified. Is it real? The tomb was empty, the stone was rolled away!

That was my first impression of God and Jesus Christ. My grandmother led a genuinely Christian life. She was very kind. Whenever any of my friends came to me, she would invariably give them something to eat, saying, for instance, “This boy doesn’t have a father.” She never held grudge against anyone. She would leave us every spring. I was curious, “Where does she go?” It turned out that, due to the fact that there was not a single church in our town, my grandmother would travel to her native village every Lent to go to church, confess, and take communion.

Never a Young Pioneer. Never a Little Octobrist. Never a Komsomolist

I went to a regular Soviet school. By the way, my life was so special that I did not enroll neither in the Little Octobrists’ Organisation nor in the Young Pioneers and not even in the Komsomol, like everyone else. I went to school when I was too young. I was younger than everyone else in my class. When everyone was accepted into these Soviet children’s organisations, my age didn’t match the requirements. It was as if they forgot about me. Later, they asked me: “Where’s your red necktie?” I replied, “I don’t have one.” “Impossible! Quick, go home and bring your necktie.” I left and spent some time walking around. “So, where’s your necktie?” “I don’t have a necktie.” The Pioneer leader took her necktie off her neck, “Here you are, wear it.” Well, I put the necktie on. I did not study the official charters and did not swear the official oath. That was how God rescued me!

The same story happened with the Komsomol. I had spent four years in college when the military commissar asked me during an attestation:

— Where is your Komsomol membership card?

— What do you mean?

— I mean, your membership card. Are you making a fool of me?

— I don’t have a membership card.

— Aren’t you a Komsomolist? How dare you?!

He called to the college: “There is a guy who is not a Komsomolist. Do you know that? What’s wrong with you? I’m sending him back to you. He must come here with a Komsomol membership card tomorrow!” When I got back to my college, I found out that they had issued a Komsomol card for me already. When I was in the army, I was hailed as “The Best Komsomolist”. It’s funny because I hadn’t actually become a member of the Komsomol. That was how it all happened.

What Do I Live For?

It was in the army that I started thinking about God for the first time. It wasn’t because I had to endure hardships there. I was stationed near Moscow in a missile defence unit and spent two years never leaving the forest. It was a secret unit. However, during my second year in the army, I was appointed a clerk of the Secret Department. It was a high-responsibility job but at the same time I had enough free time. I read a lot of books and spent even more time thinking. When I was re-reading Dostoyevsky, whom I really rediscovered as I grew older, I started thinking, “Life can’t be pointless… What do I live for? What is my life’s purpose? Just living? Eating, sleeping, drinking… What for? Having a family is great but what’s next? Where’s the meaning in all that?” It was during my service in the military that the thought about the existence of God took roots in my heart.

Seeking For The Truth And The First Easter

I returned home from the army in 1987 and was admitted to the Institute of Culture in Minsk. There were many books around, except the Bible and the Gospel. Bhagavad Gita (an ancient Indian sacred text written in Sanskrit, the foundational document of the Hindu philosophy) was everywhere, in all shops, on all corners.

Blavatskaya’s books were everywhere, too… I almost got into trouble: I started reading Bhagavad Gita but, praise the Lord, I didn’t go deep into that doctrine. I was confounded and learned that some doctrines can be dicey.

There is a story when Arjuna goes to battle with his uncles. Krishna tells Arjuna, “You must kill your uncles.” “Why?” “You must.” “Why? What for? I will simply defeat them. They are my uncles, why should I kill them?” “I, Krishna, tell you so.” That is, he does not provide any explanation. It’s just because he “wants it.”

I was bewildered: of course, war is war but why kill the uncles? I felt tense after reading the Gita: its spirituality sounded weird… Blavatskaya was even worse, absolute darkness. I couldn’t read her books for more than 5-10 minutes. After that, I was repulsed. Finally, I reached the simple conclusion: all that glitters is not gold. Spirituality can be positive or negative.

Accidentally, I got an old Gospel book in the late 1980s. I read it overnight. Sure enough, I didn’t understand much of it at first but the Good News were a gust of fresh air for me. When my room-mate got up the next morning, I set out talking emphatically, “Here is the Truth! Here is the Truth!” He had been used to my reading various crazy books. He challenged me, “Why do you think that you’re right this time? You have already told me about other books that they were clever or intriguing…” I fell silent. Instantly, my heart sent me the answer — it wasn’t a thought, it was just a spiritual feeling — “It is true because it is full of love.”

Christianity became the long-anticipated lighthouse for me. At first, I couldn’t tell the difference between various brands of Christianity. The Church was not allowed to preach openly yet, and I wasn’t ready to go to church. I saw an advertisement on the street: wow, that’s what I have been waiting for — I’m going to a Christian worship service. I came to a large hall. There were guitars, a Yamaha keyboard, and the people were singing about God. A preacher stepped forward. “Finally, there’s going to be a sermon.” I was surprised to see a theatrical performance instead. The preacher started speaking quietly, in a low voice, gradually raising it and eventually burst out screaming, “Get up everybody!” All people took to their feet, raised their hands and started mumbling something loudly… Now I know that they were Pentecostals but at that time, I didn’t know who they were, I was simply terrified: Where am I? I stood up and made my way to the exit… When I got out of that hall, it made me realise that the saying “All that glitters is not gold” is true for Christianity, too…

I was still very eager to discover the truth. I was visited by the following thought one day: “I’m Orthodox, baptised when I was a child. Sure, it’s been a while since I last visited an Orthodox church but it may be time to go to church again.” There were only two functioning churches in Minsk at that time: St Alexander Nevsky Church and Holy Spirit Cathedral. I came to Holy Spirit Cathedral, stood at the door, and that was when I felt that I was at home: it was so warm and good. “What have you been looking for so long? Here it is!”

First, I dropped in for a couple of minutes. Then I started coming more often and staying longer. I turned to God when I was about 22. I remember my first Easter. It was in 1988, the 1000th anniversary of the Baptism of Rus’. The church was encircled by the police. They did not let young people in. Old ladies could go through the police lines freely but we young people were kept off. I was furious, “Why they can go to church and I can’t?” “They are believers.” “I’m a believer, too.” “Are you really?” “Yes, I am. I’m a believer.” “Okay, come in.” They let me go into the church. That was how I went to church on Easter. I was jubilant and happy. Easter is a very special day, indeed.

Little by little, I started going to church. I couldn’t live without it. I would get up at 5 AM on my only day-off, when I could have made up for lack of sleep, and go to church.

Ministry

Gradually, I became a practising Christian. I read many books and found out many new facts. However, the decisive moment for me was my mother's death. She died in 1990 just a couple of days before the New Year. She was 50. Praise the Lord, I had already had faith at that time. Otherwise, I don't know how I would survive her death. It was thanks to my faith that I did not protest against my mother's death. Instead, I started going to church more often to pray for my mum. My faith went through a qualitative transformation. Until then, I was trying to approach the faith from a rational standpoint but at that point my heart turned on to embrace the faith. Holy Fathers call it, "the mind that dwells in the heart."

My father died three years later. I had to pull through somehow and determine my subsequent steps. I followed my would-be wife to Hrodna. She was assigned to Hrodna as a young specialist, and I followed her. I worked as the director of a House of Culture. We settled down and made this place our new home. Needless to say, our life in the 1990s was very difficult. Anyway, I attended church regularly. We celebrated our wedding ceremony in the Hrodna Cathedral.

I attended services in the Cathedral on a regular basis. I was driving across a bridge over the river one day and saw a small church on the shore under the bridge. I decided to go and confess there. This ostensibly insignificant step determined my future life in many ways. I grew fond of this parish as soon as I walked into the church.

First, I got actively involved with the Fraternity of St Vladimir Church. Although Sundays were business days for the House of Culture, I would come up with more and more new reasons to go to church on Sunday morning. I felt very uncomfortable, especially during disco parties.

Meanwhile, I began to sing in the choir, and then reading aloud. There were few priests at that time. Even fewer priests had theological education. My parish priest suggested that I become a deacon. I replied, "Are you serious, Father? I used to lead a bad life in the past. No-no-no. I go to church, sure, but serving God..." — "Take your time and think about it. Your past doesn't matter." Later, he suggested the same thing again, and the thought took roots in my heart.

Two priests came to visit us at home in the residence hall. They wanted to talk about it with my wife Irina. They started talking her into allowing me to become a deacon. "You see, there are few priests right now. Your husband is very lively. Would you mind if..." "Yes! Yes, I would mind it!"

She was adamant. Six months later, Irina looked at me and said, "I see that you are already there. Make up your mind at last!" She was acutely aware of the fact that priesthood is not an easy road for the entire family.

I became a deacon in 1995 and spent nine years as a deacon. I don't think I would ever become a priest but then they transferred me to a district centre — a town named Ščučyn 37 miles from Hrodna, and commissioned me to build a new church there. It was there that I was made a priest. I served in a rural parish, in a district centre, and in Hrodna. God's Providence has led me to Minsk. St Vladimir Church was the basis of my ministry. I served in Holy Protection Cathedral in Hrodna for nine years before I finally came to Minsk.

Each parish is different. The atmosphere in a rural parish is very special. Singing is very simple but at the same time a rural parish is marked with incredible love because people know each other and live close to each other. It is very cosy.

I believe that my life journey is an ordinary one. Anyway, the amazing God's Providence can be seen even in this triviality.

Saint Elisabeth Convent

You know, I am very glad that I serve in St Elisabeth Convent now. When Father Andrew told me, "Father Eugene, you know, our Convent is special: we have many ministries and demand absolute obedience." I replied, "I have always lived like that. Not to the same extent, perhaps, but the principle has been the same." Two months later, Father Andrew asked me in the sanctuary, "Well, Father Eugene, how are you going? Is it difficult or exhausting to serve in the Convent?" I responded, “Father, I feel like I’m in the paradise!”

I did not try to flatter him or to make a false impression. Sure, there are many duties that you have to carry out, and you often feel tired. In spite of that, the spiritual environment makes you stronger. This is especially true of relationships among priests. Father Andrew, of course, sets an example for all of us. He is so full of love that he is even afraid to offend someone with his words. Even if I deserve to be punished, he talks with me in a soft voice, with love and patience... You've got to appreciate it, don't you?

I see what people feel when they come to the Convent and how they enjoy services, in spite of the fact that not everyone is able to stand during the four-hour long All-Night Vigil. People who have serious health issues come to the Convent, and God’s strength is made perfect in weakness (Cf. 2 Cor. 12: 9). It's a unique place. It is hard but at the same time very graceful to be here. Praise the Lord. I am grateful to God for being here.

Quick Poll

– What does it mean to be a Christian in the 21st century?

Carrying one's cross, just like in the 1st century. There is no Christianity without carrying one's cross, i.e., without accepting God's will and cutting off one's own: Whosoever will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me (Mark 8:34). One must accept God's will wholeheartedly and without doubts. Of course, there is no Christianity without love. Love is the core.

– Name three virtues that you value most of all.

Faith, hope, and love: these are the three main virtues. Faith means being faithful, hope means relying on God and trusting him, and love means sacrifice. Love always means sacrifice.

– Name three things that can easily make you angry.

I’m triggered very easily. It's my personal flaw. I know it and keep trying to do something about it. I am very emotional, indeed. I struggle with bad thoughts like “How could he do it?” I always recall Prince Myshkin from Dostoyevsky’s The Idiot, who was always trying to find excuses for everyone, “Yes, sure, he is such-and-such, but he did it because of his hard life.” I drive such angry thoughts away so as not to condemn anyone. I know that the Lord will instruct everyone including me first of all, since I'm even worse.

– What vices are you most inclined to forgive?

A vice is a term of ethics defined as being rooted in sin and unworthy behaviour. A vice is a defect of the soul. There is an eponymous medical term that is used to refer to heart diseases or malfunctions. All sins are defects of the soul. This is how the Holy Fathers understood it, and this is how I see it. If a doctor does not pity his patient, if he starts criticising the patient for being sick – can he be called a doctor? You shouldn't criticise people. You should treat them.

– What do you think about happiness? What can make a person happy?

It's "who", not "what." God is the source of all happiness. There can be no happiness without God. Yes, fake happiness is possible without God. An individual can create an idol in his own soul – a passion for the sake of which he lives. Happiness can come only from God. It is God who is the true happiness.

– What do you consider to be the worst nightmare?

It is when one loses God. If someone loses God, he is captured by total non-being and disappointment. Losing God means losing the meaning of one's life completely.

Interview by Maria Kotova

January 26, 2018

St. Elisabeth Convent

Ruslan Yarotsky, a religion studies major and a former Evangelical pastor who is now an Orthodox missionary from Hrodna and the Director of a Support Fund for Orthodox Christians in Africa, took a flight to East Africa together with his friend Dmitry Fadeyev and spent two weeks in an Orthodox community in Kenya. The two friends helped St Barnabas Shelter in Njabini where Father John, an Orthodox priest and school principal, takes care of ca. 170 orphans. The majority of those children's parents have died. Many of the kids are seriously ill.

We visited a meeting where Ruslan told about the Orthodox mission in Kenya and the struggles of Orthodox Christians in Africa, as well as about his own spiritual journey from a pastor to an Orthodox missionary and the simple things that make us happy.

- I'm an infinitely happy person because the Lord found me, -Ruslan says. - Now I know why I get up in the morning, and I can hope that I will find myself in a good place after I don't wake up one morning. I'm a parishioner of the Church in honour of St Luke at Hrodna Regional Hospital. Our parish is vibrant and lively. It's like a big family. We know each other by name, come together to study the Gospel and mix with interesting people. There is even a booklovers' club. What else can one possibly need? Nonetheless, I have always wanted to do an overseas mission.

Fyodor Dostoyevsky said that a Russian must have something to die for. We are subconsciously looking for something to die for. I have long wanted to go to Africa. I was haunted by the idea that I had to help African children and the Orthodox community there. He who seeks will find. I came across a webpage run by Greek missionaries, who later introduced us to Father John, a year ago. Following our request, he invited us to St Barnabas Orphanage located in Njabini settlement.

There was just one problem: where do we find so much money? A brother from our parish advised us to "test God's will" by asking a priest to bless our journey. Naturally, I did not want to go anywhere to ask for the blessing because I had already made up my mind. I did not have money, though, and I didn't know where to get it, so I went to Lavrishevo Monastery to my wonderful spiritual father and counsellor Father Eusebius, the abbot of this monastery.

As we were walking with the abbot in the snowy Lavrishevo, I stammered about my idea. He looked straight in my eyes and replied that we had had to launch overseas missions a decade ago. As soon as I received the blessing, things began to unfold at the speed of light. Interestingly enough, it was one of my friends, who is a Catholic, who donated the first $1000 "for the development of Orthodox mission in Africa". Little by little, our parish collected a substantial amount of money in a month and a half, about $5000, although our parishioners are not that well-off. It happened thanks to God's mercy.

How did your family react?

You know, each one of us will die, so why should we care where it happens? I am certain that I won't live a second more or a second less than I am destined to. So it's pointless to worry whether I die in Africa or here in Hrodna. We don't get to choose where and when we are born and die.

I was raised in an Evangelical family. Every young Evangelical kid dreams of becoming a missionary. My family supported my decision. My wife had dreamed of going on a mission to Yakutia when she was young. So I'm making her dream come true in a way. My children wanted to go to Africa with me but it's too dangerous.

We had to undergo vaccinations against yellow fever and malaria. It is physically stressful to be there: Njabini is located at the altitude of 8200 ft. It is hard to breathe and your heart is pounding differently.

No one was waiting for us in Nairobi Airport. So we're standing there in the foreign country with several heavy suitcases (the total load of 330 lbs consisted of stationery, toys, and sweets). We bought a SIM card, which cost us $20. Kenya is a very expensive country, strange though it may sound. The locals' line of thinking is that if you are white, you have to pay extra. A figurine that is impossible to bring back home because it is too fragile will cost you $200.

Soon Father John found us: he had parked his car in a wrong place. In spite of the huge sticker on his car, "Saint Barnabas Shelter. We help children," he had to pay a $40 fine. It's a lot even for us, and for them it's… That was how our first encounter with Kenya began.

Kenya's main scourge is poverty, hunger, lack of access to drinking water and basic healthcare, and, as a result, there is a huge number of ill people. Due to high mortality rates many Kenyan kids are orphans. It is to these kids that Orthodox priests in Kenya cater. Yes, Kenya is different. There is a touristy Kenya with the ocean shore and safaris. You will drive through a Maasai village, give sweets to the local kids, and feel that you've done something meaningful. This isn't the real Kenya.

For the most part, the country is in a terrible condition. It is ridden by water shortages, unemployment, and terrorism.

Mogadisho, Somalia, is the most dangerous place in the world. Islamists keep raiding Kenya all the time. They kidnap whites for ransom. There is one of the largest refugee camps in Kenya — ca. 250 000 persons. Many of them are Christians because belonging to the Christian faith is punishable by death in Somalia. Not long ago two Protestants and a Catholic were beheaded…

There are slums everywhere on the outskirts of the capital city: rubbish, poor hygiene, crowds of people aimlessly wandering here and there, and apparent lack of security — you start feeling insecure as soon as you leave the territory of the airport.

When we got to the shelter, we saw a pathetic sight: an acre of fenced land and several bunkhouses made of terrible wooden planks. Animals in any of our villages live more comfortably than those children. This place is home for 170 orphans aged 3 – 17 or 18. Their parents died of AIDS, tuberculosis or hepatitis, or have been killed during civil strifes. The daily routine for Father John is to find resources to feed and clothe these children, teach them the basics of the Orthodox faith, and provide education for them. Upon graduation from the shelter, the children get a certificate and can apply to colleges. You are doomed if you are un-educated in Kenya. As a rule, the counsellors work for food.

When there is money, the children eat three meals a day. When there isn't, they eat just once a day. What do they eat? Some kind of flour, possibly corn flour, diluted in boiled water to make a glue-like mass. They add sugar to make it less disgusting. If there's enough flour, they cook simple pancakes instead. As long as this mass is hot, it's edible. The children eat it well. They invited us to taste it but we couldn't. Even for Christ's sake.

The Lavrishevo Monastery donated two boxes of sweets to the shelter. Some of the kids saw them for the first time. The distribution of the sweets looked like a huge event: the children stood in lines, and the volunteers gave them sweets solemnly…

Dear friends, we are so rich, and I mean it! Human beings are naturally marked by their inability to be satisfied, they never stop pushing for more and more. Many people have this false impression that Africans don't have anything but they walk around happily, smiling at the sun. That's wrong. Africa is very depressing and miserable. Piles of rubbish and people wandering aimlessly. Abject poverty. Unemployment. No business opportunities. It is only where there are churches that children smile because they are loved, cared for, and helped.

Nowadays, life is harder in Belarus: the economic crisis hit everyone, but it pales in comparison with Kenya. One hundred and seventy children without parents; no one will shed a tear if they die… You walk down the village street, and there are someone's legs sticking out of a pile of rubbish, and you can't tell if that person is alive or dead and you cannot get closer: there is leprosy in some regions, and there may well be poisonous snakes in the rubbish. Human life doesn't cost anything at all.

One of the most pressing problems that Kenya faces is lack of access to pure drinking water. The shelter cannot afford a $30,000 borehole. Another acute problem for the children who live in the shelter is shoes, which are expensive. Without shoes, some nasty bugs will get under the children's skin, and their legs will swell. However, if you have to choose between shoes and food, you choose food. The older children pass their clothes and shoes to the younger kids.

Tyres are the usual toys for Kenyan children. They make sandals from old tyres. The children have almost no toys. When we got there, they were playing football with a "ball" made of an old newspaper…

My heart aches for them. I would like to help them but I can't. What can be done with a couple thousand dollars? It's like a drop in an ocean. The bare minimum spent on one child in the shelter is one dollar a day. For ten dollars, a child can survive in the shelter for ten days. That's how we calculated our expenses when we were getting ready for the trip. You can feed one child for $1 but often you don't have even that one dollar. We organised three meals a day for the money we had brought with us. We would buy cheap food, e.g., rice, lentils, grains, and sugar, in special wholesale shops. No one even talks about other foods, like meat or fish… The Great Lent is an ascetic feat for us; for them, it begins on the day they are born. And it never ends for the majority of the population.

The Orthodox Church in Kenya grows rapidly, in large part thanks to the numerous shelters and schools. The children who stay there hear the Gospel, learn the God's Law, and participate in church services since their early years. They grow to become Orthodox Christians. Then they marry and raise their own children in the Orthodox tradition. Father John himself had skipped a service in his semi-pagan Protestant congregation one day. When he accidentally met an Orthodox priest who simply gave him some food, he was so fond of that man that he started helping him in the church. As a result, he graduated from a school and a seminary. Kenyan Christians are very simple-hearted. Prayer is their way to survive. We have to force ourselves into praying with prayer ropes and saying Jesus Prayer but in Africa, it's impossible not to pray.

Apart from Njamini, we brought humanitarian aid to cities where the situation is even worse. We wanted to support the priests and missionaries, our brothers in the faith who carry out their ministry under these extremely harsh conditions. I have many priests as friends. They also have their troubles and there are few of them who ride posh cars but it cannot be compared with what life is like in Kenya. We were driving to a priest to bring him some foodstuffs and came across a building made of steel sheets, like an old garage. This building turned out to be his house. There was a chair, a table, a bed, a prayerbook, a Bible, and a prayer rope, and that was all he had. He cooks some kind of stew on open fire near his cabin. His wife and children live 300 miles away. He serves as a missionary in that place for a fortnight every month, then gets back to his family somehow, and serves the other fortnight there. He does not complain. He loves God and lives happily. If I take a pack of rice and give it to a priest here in Belarus, I don't think he'll be extremely excited. For them, even tiny amounts of water and food mean a lot. They encounter pain and suffering but at the same time they rely on Jesus. They are true patriots of Kenya who love their country and don't want to leave. They simply want to live normal lives. Like we all do, don't we?

Europeans used to help them more but they reduced funding of African charitable projects due to the refugee crisis. Their welfare organisations and charities started focusing on their own countries.

It must be noted that it becomes cleaner and tidier wherever Orthodox parishes are planted. People really change their mentality for the better. The Lord cleanses their hearts and they begin to make everything clean, too. This is how small pockets of cleanliness and order pop up. There are more and more Orthodox parishes in Kenya every day. There is approximately one million Orthodox Christians in Kenya nowadays. They build hospitals and schools and by doing so, they unite people and preach the Gospel. There are regions where indigenous polytheistic beliefs are still strong. They require not only social support but also preaching about Christ. Their seminary prepares educated and skilled priests. There are no monasteries in Kenya right now. There is just one monk in the country.

I would also like to tell you about Metropolitan Makarios of Kenya, who is a spiritual child of Elder Sofrony (Sakharov). He hails from Cyprus. He studied in several universities in Europe, including the Orthodox Theological Institute of St. Sergius in Paris, France. He is very unpretentious, I have never seen bishops like him. Our bishops are wonderful but I don't know them, I only see them on TV. He has spent his entire life to develop and strengthen the Church. It was due to his efforts that there are 300 parishes, many schools and shelters, a seminary and a technical college in Kenya now.

Kenyans honour Metropolitan Makarios like their father or grandfather. The situation of survival that people have to face in Africa creates an atmosphere of simplicity. There are no barriers between bishops and common folk. They have to stay together to survive. His Eminence Makarios visits churches daily. He is always on the go. When he learned about our visit, he decided to come to see us. He celebrated a solemn Liturgy. He served partly in Church Slavonic during the Liturgy, so that we could understand what was going on. The service ended with lively dances - that's how Orthodox Kenyans praise the Lord.

It was a completely new experience for us. When we first came to Njamini and there were 170 children dancing around us and having fun, we were astonished… Unfortunately, sincere joy fades in our hearts with time. By the way, the Book of Psalms reads, "Praise God with the timbrel and dance, (cf. Ps. 150: 4). The dance means roundelays. That's what it means. Our mentality stops us from having fun so openly. They are very open-hearted. As soon as the service was over, everyone went outdoors, and the children started dancing around the metropolitan. They live by dancing - and God.

Currently, the situation in central Kenya is becoming even more complicated. Due to their civil strife, food prices have skyrocketed, and it means that children will be starving again. Businesses from Belarus are ready to help but it's meaningless to send humanitarian aid: the corruption rates are so high that the locals won't see the aid, it will be stolen on its way. The Belarusian ambassador openly admits that it's a waste of money. That's why we collect donations, store them on a VISA credit card, go to Africa, rent cars, buy everything in the cheapest shops, and distribute the staples among missionary parishes. We bring back receipts and post photos to be as transparent as possible.

St Barnabas Shelter is actively raising funds to buy the plot of land they rent right now. We hope that, God willing, they will succeed. When they do, they will be able to build something more substantial, with the help of volunteers. For instance, during our last trip we built a coop for chicken, which will supplement the meagre ration of the children.

Our next trip to Kenya is in February. So if you can tell anyone about it, please do. Please write to us, we will be happy to receive all kinds of help.

My friend who is an editor of a newspaper had an argument with me, "Why Africa? There are many poor folks here, too." He is a very pious man and a remarkable Orthodox Christian. He spent three days trying to convince me that "it was your pride telling you to go to Africa." And then he came to me and admitted honestly, "It has dawned on me that I oppose your idea so much because I don't do anything like that myself." He gave me a $100 note saying, "I don't want to fight with God, I'd rather be your ally."

If some of our priests were to push forward the establishment of the Hrodna Missionary Fellowship, it could allow us to take a different approach. As of now, it's a bunch of amateurs. Our spiritual fathers bless us, and we're grateful to them. So if you spread the word among your friends, or if there are people who are willing to help, we will really appreciate it because one dollar is the cost of one day of a child's life. It isn't mere words. If any one of you will make up your mind to go there, you will see it with your own eyes.

Interview by Sister Maria (Kotova)

January 4, 2018

St. Elisabeth Convent

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Personal Stories of the Clergy of St. Elisabeth Convent: Father Eugene Pavelchuk

A Baptism on the way from Minsk to St. Petersburg

One Country Helping Another: An Orthodox Mission in Kenya

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