The Catalog of Good Deeds

Why do I do it? Why am I a practicing Orthodox Christian. It’s not because it’s the true faith, the oldest form of Christianity, faithful to the teaching and worship of the ancient Church. It is these things, but that’s not why I’m a practicing Orthodox Christian. It’s possible to be convinced of the verity of Orthodox Christianity and still not want to be Orthodox. An acquaintance of mine is also convinced that Orthodox Christianity is the true faith, that it’s authentic ancient Christianity. However, he does not want to become an Orthodox Christian.

My acquaintance doesn’t want to become an Orthodox Christian because, as he put it, Orthodox Christianity is like Shakespeare in the original, while he compared the version of Christianity to which he belongs to Shakespeare simplified for eighth-graders (which seems to me to be a big insult to English speaking thirteen-year olds everywhere). I don’t think the comparison of Orthodox Christianity to Shakespeare is as helpful as he does, but that was the image my acquaintance used.

For him, the church, what he calls the church, needs to be accessible, relevant, easily relatable. That’s why my acquaintance stays in his heterodox Christian world even though he is convinced that Orthodox Christianity is the original, the true Church.

So if I’m not an Orthodox Christian because it is the true, historic Christian Church, why am I an Orthodox Christian, particularly a practicing Orthodox Christian?

I am an Orthodox Christian because in the Orthodox Church I have found a way to be a Christian that actually changes me, that actually helps me to know and worship God, know and discipline (as in disciple) myself, and helps me to know and love my neighbour. But the secret is, you have to practice it. There is no magic in the holy chrism or the water of baptism. There is only an invitation, an open door, the beginning of a way.

It’s not an easy way. It’s Shakespeare in the original. It takes more effort than a graded reader. It takes some study, involves some frustration, and includes a lot of wondering about what it all means. It has to be practiced. The stomach has to growl during lent. The legs have to be tired. Your schedule has to be adjusted. You have to weep.

But the beauty is worth it. The terrible revelations of my own wickedness are worth it. The growing knowledge of my own soul, the insight into our common human weakness creating a deep pity (a species of love, Shakespeare tells us) for my neighbour, and the ongoing exercise of spiritual disciplines helping me increasingly to see my passions while they are yet thoughts and before they overwhelm me, all of these are worth it.

That’s why I’m a practicing Orthodox Christian.

Source: https://blogs.ancientfaith.com/prayingintherain/2018/03/practicing-orthodox-christian/

Once an ascetic of the Kiev Caves Lavra went on Pascha day to the famous caves where hundreds of monks are buried, and, from his abundance of Paschal joy, exclaimed, “Christ is risen!” “In truth He is risen!” came a brotherly, jubilant response. It was a greeting from another world, from the reposed monks abiding in the coffins of the caves; citizens of the Heavenly Kingdom.

Today, in obedience to the Holy Church, we also observe the Paschal day of the commemoration of the dead which we call “Radonitsa,” calling out to the them, CHRIST IS RISEN! And we hear their response.

One of these responses was the life and death of one ascetic of the Pskov Caves Monastery—Archimandrite Antipas.

Fr. Antipas came to the monastery after the war. He was amongst the small number of officers and soldiers whom the Lord helped survive the war and called to monastic service. Another such person was the Superior of the monastery, Archimandrite Alipy. Father Antipas became the spiritual son of Schema-abbot Savva. He struggled many years in the monastery, was exceedingly kind, always friendly to everyone. No one ever saw him angry, even though multitudes of people came to him everyday for confession and counsel. At night Fr. Antipas performed his most cherished labor—prayer (he loved most of all to read the Psalter and akathists), the endless commemoration of the living and the dead. He used to tell us young novices how important the Church commemorations are. “The main thing is to die and have the Church commemorate you! The prayers for the living and the dead at the Liturgy and the kathismas of the perpetual Psalter readings have an unseen power that conquers the demons, softens hearts, and begs the Lord’s mercy so greatly that He brings sinners out of hell.”

Fr. Antipas was in charge of the “Unsleeping Psalter.” If it would happen that someone could not read the Psalter during his assigned hour due to illness or work (the reading never ceased even for an hour), then Fr. Antipas would come and read it himself, along with the commemoration books. He himself had four hours of Psalter reading every night, it seems.

He also prayed with his whole heart for people when he read the akathists. People would sometimes order special akathist services containing as many as twelve to fifteen akathists. Many monks did not like these long services very much—long akathists, and then endless lists of names… But Fr. Antipas would shine during these long, hard services; he so rejoiced, and felt how important the Church’s prayers are for the living and the dead.

Well, the time came when Fr. Antipas was no longer able to climb the long stairway leading to St. Michael’s cathedral on the hill. Batiushka celebrated his final service tearfully. The parishioners also wept, because they loved Fr. Antipas very much, and were grieved that this great man of prayer would no longer be present at the akathist services. Fr. Antipas also grieved because he would be deprived of the possibility to read his beloved akathists. This was during the mid 1980’s, when akathist books were not being published; people read from hand-written notebooks in those days. The suitcase full of akathists that Fr. Antipas had always governed was now being delegated to other clergymen.

At the end of this sorrowful service, a group of foreign tourists came into the church. They stood for a short time, but before departing, one woman pulled a little book out of her purse, showed it from a distance to Fr. Antipas, and placed it on the solea. When Fr. Antipas left the church accompanied by the weeping parishioners, he took the book… It was a book of akathists published in Brussels. For his great love for his fellow man, for his many labors of prayer for the living and the dead, the Lord consoled Fr. Antipas. We recall how Fr. Antipas would sit with this book on the bench outside his cell on the holy hill, and, donning his large eye-glasses, pray with great concentration and fervency as if it were the first time, and then read his thick, weathered commemoration book after each akathist or kathisma.

Before he died, Fr. Antipas took to his bed. He was given confession and Holy Communion. But as they recall, he found the inner strength to rise and go to the caves, to the grave of his spiritual father, Fr. Savva. He took his cross and Gospels with him, confessed to his reposed spiritual father, asked for his prayers before the great journey ahead, and then returned to the infirmary to die.

When I came to Pechory from Moscow for his funeral, I was surprised not to find his coffin in the chapel where the blessing of the water was served, for that is where they usually read the Gospels and Psalter over newly reposed monks. The chapel was being repaired, and the Superior blessed the coffin containing Fr. Antipas’ body to be placed in the caves. It was placed right next to the grave of Schema-abbot Savva, whom even death could not separate from Fr. Antipas for all these many years. Now both their relics and their spirits were together. I say “relics” not because someone can be called a saint before he is canonized by the Church, but simply because the body of any Orthodox Christian is called relics in the church.

Thus, the life and death of this remarkable struggler impart God’s blessing to us for the fervent commemoration of the reposed. This is needful not only to the reposed, but also to our own souls for healing and upliftment. His life and death are also an answer to our exclamation today, “CHRIST IS RISEN!” directed at the reposed. In truth Christ is risen, Who “by His ineffable wisdom and love for mankind orders all things and grants to all what is beneficial,” and confirms us in our faith in the future age—the true goal of our earthly life. Amen.

CHRIST IS RISEN!

Source: http://www.pravmir.com/paschal-greeting-from-another-world-on-radonitsa/

"On this day, the Tuesday of St. Thomas week, according to the order instituted by our Holy Fathers, we call to remembrance, in Paschal joy, all those who have died from the beginning of the ages in faith and in the hope of resurrection and life eternal.

"Having previously celebrated the radiant feast of Christ's glorious Resurrection, the faithful commemorate the dead today with the pious intent to share the great joy of this Pascha feast with those who have departed this life in the hope of their own resurrection. This is the same blessed joy with which the dead heard our Lord announce His victory over death when He descended into Hades, thus leading forth by the hand the righteous souls of the Old Covenant into Paradise. This is the same unhoped-for joy the Holy Myrrhbearing Women experienced when discovering the empty tomb and the undisturbed grave clothes. In addition, this is the same bright joy the Holy Apostles encountered in the Upper Room where Christ appeared though the doors were closed. In short, this feast is a kindred joy, to celebrate the luminous Resurrection with our Orthodox forefathers who have fallen asleep.

"There is evidence of the commemoration of the dead today in the writings of the Church Fathers. St. John Chrysostom mentions the commemoration of the dead performed on Tuesday of St. Thomas week in his "Homily on the Cemetery and the Cross."

"Today, the faithful departed are remembered in Divine Liturgies, 'koliva' is prepared and blessed in the churches in memory of those who have fallen asleep, and the Orthodox graves in cemeteries are blessed by the priests and visited by the faithful. On this day alms are given to the poor. Furthermore, it should be noted that due to the great spiritual joy this jubilant commemoration bears, it is called in the Slavonic tongue, 'Radonitsa,' or Day of Rejoicing."

From the "Synaxarion of the Lenten Triodion and Penecostarion" (published in 1999 by HDM Press, Rives Junction, Michigan) on "Radonitsa'

***

A note in the English-language edition of the Synaxarion says that the above account was written "by a monk who wished to remain annonymous." This account does not appear in the Slavonic or Greek Pentecostaria.

The development of a special commemoration of the dead during Thomas Week is undoubtedly related closely to the fact that memorial services are prohibited by the Typicon from being served from Great Thursday through Thomas Sunday. Thus, in the entry for Holy and Great Thursday, the Typicon states: "It is fitting to know: That the Litia for the reposed does not take place in the narthex until Thomas Sunday." Then, in the entry for Monday of Thomas Week, the Typicon states at the end of the instructions for Matins and the First Hour: "And the usual Litia in the narthex." Thus, the begining of Thomas Week presents the first opportunity to commemorate the departed (other than at the Proskomidia) since the middle of Passion Week.

It is interesting to note that in the Typicon and Pentecostarion that are currently in use in the Russian Church, there is no specific mention of a commemoration of the dead on Tuesday of Thomas Week, and the services appointed for that day do not contain any requiem elements. Nonetheless, it is quite common to serve a General Panikhida in church on that day and also to serve Requiem Litias at the graves of the departed.

Their are many folk customs associated with Radonitsa. Perhaps other members of the Ustav List would like to share their knowledge and experience of these customs with us.

By Daniel Olson

Source: http://www.orthodox.net/ustav/radonitsa.html

Archimandrite Sergius, in the world Metrophanes Vasilyevich Srebryansky, was born on July 31, 1870 in the village of Tresvyatskoye, Voronezh uyezd, Voronezh province into the family of a priest. There were many children in the family, and they were brought up with great strictness, so that they used the formal “you” form of address to their parents. When a child attained the age of four, the father brought him to his mother and triumphantly declared that from now on the child could carry out all the fasts.

The Srebryansky children were very respectful to their parents. “Father would come home tired and sit down, and we would all pull off his boots. Once one of my younger sisters was pulling off a boot and my father somehow impatiently shoved her with his foot. I stood up for my sister, and caught it for criticizing my father.”

In 1892 Metrophanes finished his studies at the Voronezh theological seminary. He did not immediately become a priest, but under the influence of populist ideas he entered the Warsaw veterinary institute. Here, among students who were indifferent to the faith, he began to go to the Orthodox Church fervently. Here also he got to know his future wife, Olga Vladimirovna Ispolatovskaya, the daughter of a priest. On January 20, 1893 they married. On March 2, 1893 Metrophanes was ordained to the diaconate, by Bishop Anastasius of Voronezh, and on March 20, 1894 – to the priesthood by Bishop Vladimir of Ostrog. He became priest of the 47th Tatar dragoons in the town of Rypin, Polotsk province, transferring to the 51st Chernigov dragoons in Orel on September 1, 1897. The colonel of the Chernigov dragoons regiment was Grand Duchess Elizabeth Fyodorovna.

On January 15, 1904 the regiment was sent to Manchuria at the beginning of the Russo-Japanese war. Fr. Metrophanes participated with the regiment in the military actions near Lyaoyan and Mukden, and wrote down his impressions in his Diary of a Regimental Priest, published in 1906. On October 12, 1906 he was made a protopriest, and was transferred to Orel.

In 1908 Grand Duchess Elizabeth was contemplating the establishment in Moscow of a women’s monastery of the type she had encountered abroad. Among the drafts of a rule of such a community was one submitted by Fr. Metrophanes. The Grand Duchess approved his draft, but was unable to locate for the sisters a spiritual father with the qualifications required by Fr. Metrophanes’ rule - he was to be a married priest who lived with his matushka not as a wife but as a sister. When she could not find such a priest, the Grand Duchess offered Fr. Metrophanes to take the position himself. He 299 declined the offer; he loved his Orel parish and pitied his flock, who were loathe to part with their beloved spiritual father.

Fr. Metrophanes was very popular in Orel; everyone respected him and sought his advice. “At the end of the Liturgy, after people had kissed the cross, they would continue coming up to me. With some I would talk, another would ask for advice, a third wanted to share his grief - and this would go on for hours. Meanwhile, matushka would be waiting with dinner, but I seldom left the church before five o’clock,” related Batyushka.

However, as devoted as Fr. Metrophanes was to his flock, the Grand Duchess’s offer was considered almost as an order, and Batyushka did not dare refuse her. He promised to think it over, but as soon as he left Moscow, he resolved to decline. “On my return journey to Orel, I stopped off at an estate near Moscow. I went by myself for a walk in the park. My soul was churning with vacillating thoughts. I thought of my hometown, the tears of my spiritual children, and my heart was torn. I determined to turn down the Empress’s sister. And so I walked down the shaded alleys, delighting in nature’s splendour, in the flowers - when suddenly I felt that one of my arms had gone numb. I couldn’t move it. I tried to raise it but in vain: I couldn’t move my fingers, I couldn’t bend my elbow. My arm was totally useless! I was aghast. Of what use was I without an arm? I couldn’t serve! I understood that the Lord was punishing me for refusing to submit to His holy will. Right there in the park I began to pray fervently, begging the Creator to forgive me. I promised to agree to go to Moscow, if only the Lord returned the use of my arm. About two hours went by, and the paralysis gradually wore off. I returned home perfectly healthy and informed my parish that I had to leave them. Such an uproar! Tears, laments, sobbing... I myself wept together with my dear parishioners. They pleaded, they urged me to reconsider. I had promised the Grand Duchess that I would come to Moscow, but I did not have the strength to tear myself away from my beloved children, my dear parish. Months passed. Moscow was waiting for me, but I still delayed, vacillating. Finally I was persuaded that to part with my flock was beyond my powers, and I wrote to decline the position. Shortly thereafter I again lost the use of my arm, and again I was called to Moscow. Full of grief and despondency, I went to Moscow to the wonderworking Iveron icon of the Mother of God. It had been taken all over Russia, and when it returned to Moscow, people flocked to it. I stood in the crowd, my cheeks wet with tears, and asked the Queen of Heaven to heal my arm. I promised once again, firmly and resolutely, to accept the Grand Duchess’s offer and move to Moscow, if only my arm were restored and I could perform the Mysteries as before. Reverently, with fear of God and hope, I venerated the wonderworking image. I felt life return to my arm; my fingers moved! Then I joyfully informed the Grand Duchess that I had come to a decision and was moving to Moscow.

“But, oh, how difficult it was to realize this. On the day of my departure, the train was scheduled to leave the station at nine o’clock in the morning. Meanwhile, thousands of people jammed the station and the roadbed, so that the train was unable to move. The mounted police were called and it was not until three o’clock that my train finally pulled out [six hours later than scheduled], accompanied by the laments and mourning of my forsaken spiritual children.”

Metropolitan Vladimir of Moscow appointed Fr. Metrophanes as spiritual father and superior of the Martha-Maria convent on September 17, 1908, but he entered into his duties only in February, 1909, when Grand Duchess Elizabeth moved in. In April she wrote about him to the tsar: “Our lectures with the priest are most interesting – quite exceptionally so, as he not only has his deep faith, but has read immensely. He begins from the Bible and will end with Church history, and all showing how the sisters can afterwards speak and help those in moral suffering. You know Fr. Metrophanes, and had a good impression of him at Sarov. In Orel he was adored, and here many come from afar to our little church and find strength in his beautiful simple sermons and confession. He is large, nothing of the narrow-minded bigot. Everything is founded on God’s boundless love and forgiveness – a true Orthodox priest keeping strictly to our Church – God’s blessing on our work, since he has laid the foundation as it ought to be. So many has he brought back to faith, put on the right road. So many thank me for the great blessing they have received in being able to come to him. No exaltation – but you know me well enough to know that I love calm, deep religion, and would not choose a fanatic as priest… I feel one has tormented him that you might be vexed by my conduct and think he influences me to cut myself off from you all and kill myself through an ascetic life and much work whereas not one of these suppositions is true. He confesses me, spiritually nourishes me in church, is of great help to me and gives an example of a pure, simple life, so meek and lofty in his boundless love for God and the Orthodox Church. On talking with him for only a few minutes, you see that he is meek and pure and a man of God, a servant of God in our Church.”

Fr. Metrophanes and his matushka looked after three orphaned nieces and wanted to have children of their own, but the Lord did not grant it, and shortly before going to Moscow they decided to live together as brother and sister. “When God did not give us any children, we decided to maintain chastity. What a torture we took upon ourselves. It was easier for her as a woman. But for me - to have beside you the object of your fervent desire, to have every right to her - to have the blessing of the Church - and nevertheless to languish and cut off the passions of the flesh in the name of a voluntary podvig for the sake of Christ. One can bear such suffering only with God.”

In 1918, not long before her arrest, Elizabeth Fyodorovna transferred the community into the care of Fr. Metrophanes. In 1919, Patriarch Tikhon, who 301 knew him well, gave him his blessing with a gramota and an icon of the Saviour, thanking him for his many labours.

In 1922, with the blessing of Patriarch Tikhon and Elder Anatolius of Optina, Fr. Metrophanes was tonsured as the monk Sergius, while his wife became the nun Elizabeth. Soon after this he was raised to the rank of archimandrite.

On March 23, 1923 he was arrested for reading the epistle of Patriarch Tikhon and cast into prison. On August 24 he was exiled for one year to Tobolsk. On February 27, 1925 he returned to the Martha-Maria convent in Moscow, but he was forbidden to give sermons or do administrative work. In 1925 the authorities decided to close the convent and exile its inmates. On April 29, 1926 Fr. Sergius himself was arrested for “anti-Soviet activity”. He was accused of saying that Soviet power was persecuting religion and churchmen. Fr. Sergius did not deny the accusation, but said that he never said this with spite, but was always hoping that the Soviet authorities would come to trust the clergy. Matushka Elizabeth, on hearing of his arrest, began to agitate for his release, and with her help on July 2 the OGPU released him from Butyrki prison.

Fr. Sergius and Matushka Elizabeth moved to the village of Vladychnya, Tver province, which was matushka’s native village. At first Fr. Sergius did not serve, but went frequently to the church and prayed. Immediately he began to be visited by his spiritual children and soon acquired the reputation of being a holy man. In February, 1930 Fr. Sergius was arrested again. The main accusation consisted in the fact that he “is especially good at sermons, which he uttered for two hours at a stretch. In his speeches from the ambon he calls for unity and the support of the Church and the aims of religion...” On April 7 he was sentenced to five years’ exile in the north.

Once he said: “Oh, if you only knew what it sometimes means to have a cup of hot tea! I was summoned from my prison cell for interrogation. However, I was in such a state that I could neither reason nor speak... The interrogator - God bless him - took pity on me and ordered that I be brought a cup of strong, hot tea. This revived me, and I was able to answer his questions.

“I was sentenced to be shot. I sat in a cell with others who were similarly condemned. Every day several of us were called out never to be seen again. Oh, that was a stressful night, anticipating my own death the next day! But just then the patriarchal locum tenens, Vladyka Sergius, signed a paper stating that, according to the laws of the Soviet regime, the Church was not subject to persecution. This saved our lives, and executions were commuted to exile. But what an arduous journey that was! For several days and nights, we lay on platforms in our cars, forbidden to get up. Our bodies ached; we wanted desperately to move around. Meanwhile, a young soldier with a rifle walked back and forth and barked at us sternly. After all, one could not trust criminals to move about the cars, and among us were all kinds of bandits. I prayed, exhausted from lying prostrate for so long. Then I stuck my head into the passageway and addressed the soldier. ‘Dear fellow, you must be from Voronezh.’ ‘How did you know?’ asked the youth in astonishment. ‘Well, I’m from Orel. In Voronezh do you know such-and-such a place?’ We struck up a conversation, the fellow’s face lit up with a flood of memories about places dear to his heart. Circumspectly he whispered, ‘Get down, walk around.’ That saved me. It was the Lord’s mercy. I didn’t know that he was from Voronezh; it was the grace of the priesthood. That and that alone. People think I know something, that I’m clairvoyant. It’s simply the grace of the priesthood.”

He settled in one of the villages on the river Pinega, where there were many exiled clergy. Matushka Elizabeth came to him there. Once he said of his wife when he was looking after her as an invalid: “Olga, darling, my dear companion, how much she endured together with me! She travelled hundreds of kilometres down the Irtysh on a raft to visit me in exile. You cannot imagine what it is to spend a whole week on a raft, without a roof, exposed to wind, rain and sun! Without any accomodation, not to speak of food! And she still managed to visit me, she did not leave me alone in distant Siberia. What a great support that was for me!”

In 1933, because of his age, his illnesses and the work he had successfully carried out, he was released and returned to Moscow, where he remained for one day before going with Matushka Elizabeth to Vladychino. He was visited by his spiritual children and many suffering Orthodox, including several nuns of the Martha-Maria convent who were still alive. He was glorified by the gifts of clairvoyance and wonder-working. Thus once by his prayers he retrieved three lost cows of a young cowherd who had completely despaired of finding them, which threatened him and his family with a terrible retribution according to Soviet laws.

Fr. Metrophanes was an optimist by nature. He believed that science would attain such a level that it would prove the existence of another, spiritual, non-material world. Then people would become convinced of the existence of God, they would come to believe in the immortality of the soul and there would be the “first resurrection”, i.e., the resurrection of the soul from the darkness of sin. “All the nations which Thou has created will come and worship before Thee, O Lord, and shall glorify Thy name” (Psalm 85.9).

“But this paradise will not last long on earth. Spoiled over thousands of years, sinful man will soon find submission to God to be irksome and unbearable. Then people will rise up against God and openly declare war 303 against Him... And the end will come. God will not destroy the world before He has given everyone a chance to believe in Him.”

Fr. Sergius died from pneumonia in Vladychino on April 5, 1948. He was buried in the village cemetery in Vladychino. When, two years later, they lowered the grave of his matushka into the ground, the top of his coffin moved and revealed that the body of Fr. Sergius was incorrupt. Many venerators of the elder go to his grace and take earth from it for healing.

Source: http://www.orthodoxchristianbooks.com/downloads/114_THE_HOLY_NEW_MARTYRS_OF_CENTRAL_RUSSIA.pdf

That wonderful story hapened to me at one of the exhibitions organized by our convent.

I was offering people the products made by our convent – icons, church supplies and other beautiful works. There were many people since everyone wanted to buy some gifts for the coming great feast – Pascha.

At one moment I saw two women standing not far from my counter. I understood that they wanted to ask me something but they were too confused. Finally, one of them coped with her embarrassment and decided to address me:

- I am not Orthodox, I don’t know anything about tour faith. Tell me, are there any saint doctors in your Church, who help people to be cured? – she asked.

- Of course, there are. Here is one of them – St. Luke of Crimea, a surgeon, a genius doctor and our contemporary, - I replied and handed her a bottle of oil, consecrated on St. Luke's holy relics.

At the very moment she took the bottle, her hand started to bleed. Terrified she looked at her hand, at me, again at her bleeding hand and cried out. She was laughing and crying at the same time. To be honest, her friend and I were just shocked with what was going on. We began to look for a cloth to wipe her hand, but she refused, showed her hand to me and her friend and repeated only one phrase, “Do you see that it’s bleeding? You see?”

Of course, we saw that and were totally confused. A bit later, the woman wiped her hand. There was no cut or wound on her hand that could bleed so heavily. Seeing wonder in our eyes, in which one could see a lot of questions, she explained everything:

- I am sick. My blood is too thick. To thin the blood, doctors prescribed me to take the meds that have a bad effect on my heart. I did not know whether I should take them or not, and now I’ve got the answer to my question! I really thank your saint! I won’t take any pills! My blood is thin enough and doesn’t clot as the doctors said. I will be tested once again, and may be the results will be different. Then they will prescribe me a more suitable course of treatment.

In front of my eyes, St. Luke made a sign for an unfaithful woman, who believed that an unknown Orthodox saint would help her.

According to your faith let it be to you!

By Sister Natalia (Bunde)

March 13, 2018

St. Elisabeth Convent

Subscribe to: Posts ( Atom )

Search This Blog

featured Slider

The Main Reason Why We Should Be Practicing Orthodox Christians

The Life and Death of an Ascetic of the Pskov Caves Monastery

On the Meaning of Radonitsa

Who was the Spiritual Father of St. Elisabeth?

How St. Luke Helped an Unfaithful Woman

Why Is There so Much Self-humiliation in Prayers?

Partners