Recent Miracles of the Kursk Icon of the Most Holy Theotokos in the 20th Century
Since its miraculous appearance in the forest of Kursk in the 13th century, the wonderworking icon of the Mother of God, known as the Kursk Root Icon of the Sign, has been a constant source of healing, comfort and deliverance from calamity to countless numbers of Orthodox Christians, most prominent among who was St. Seraphim of Sarov himself, a native of Kursk. In his childhood he was healed of a serious malady through the intercessions of the Most Holy Theotokos when her miraculous icon stopped at the home of the Moshnin family.
With its departure from the Russian land following the defeat of the
White Army, the icon did not cease its miraculous aid to all who with faith
sought the heavenly intercession of the Mother of God.
A book entitled The
Hodigitria of the Russian Emigration, authored by Bishop Seraphim (later
Archbishop of Chicago and Detroit, now reposed), was published in 1955 (in
Russian), giving a lengthy account of the history of the Kursk icon and the
miracles performed by it. In 1976 Archbishop Seraphim issued a supplement to
this book, containing more recent accounts of miracles which he had gathered in
the course of some 20 years. It is this latter supplement which we are
presenting here in English translation for the edification of our readers, as
well as an account published subsequently in the newspaper Orthodox Russia.
A Series of Miracles in one Family
From a Letter to Archbishop Seraphim of Chicago
Within a month and a half, upon our demand, she was transferred to a
German hospital in the small city of Mulldorf, not far from the camp hospital.
The doctors there could not establish the cause of her sickness either; according
to all the symptoms, the cause was gallstones, but repeated X-ray tests did not
confirm this.
September ended and G.A. had become a skin-covered skeleton (exactly as
in Turgenev's Living Relics).
At the beginning of October she could not even sit up, let alone walk; the
nurses (Catholic nuns) had to feed her with a spoon. During the last weeks her
temperature was very high. It was impossible to perform an operation because of
the complete weakening of her body and her high temperature. The German doctors
(perhaps to "wash their hands") decided to send her to the DP
hospital in Munich. We knew that she would not be able to endure the trip, and
it was doubtful that she would make it there alive.
At that time, the feast of the Protection of the Most Holy Theotokos was
approaching our camp's patronal feast. A visitation by the miraculous
Hodigitria icon (icon of Kursk) was expected, accompanied by the First Hierarch
Metropolitan Anastassy, Fr. George Grabbe and a protodeacon. I was a member of
the parish council and was entrusted with the duty of meeting the icon, Vladyka
and the clergy upon their arrival in the city of Mulldorf (they were traveling
by automobile), and accompanying them to the guest house, previously prepared.
On the eve of the feast I left the camp for town early, intending to
make one more check on the readiness of the suite in the guest house, and to
visit the patient. By 10 a.m., having completed my business, I came to G.A. I
told her of the preparations for the feast, of how the wonder-working icon and
Vladyka Anastassy were coming, and how I would go at two in the afternoon to
the agreed place and meet them there. Because of her weakness she could barely
speak. She lay there with her eyes closed. At times I even thought that she did
not hear everything that I was saying. Then suddenly she opened her eyes,
somehow looked at me very attentively, and we said at the same time, "What
if the icon could be brought here!" (to the hospital). I said, naturally,
that I would ask Vladyka about this, but I myself deeply doubted the
possibility, for shortly after their arrival the icon and clergy were to depart
for the camp. There was time for only a brief rest after the long trip.
At twelve o'clock I left the hospital. I had still two hours until the
arrival of the icon, but somehow I automatically went quietly to the
meeting-place. Suddenly, when I had not even gone three blocks, someone called
me, and I saw Father George who was waving to me from the automobile. I ran to
them, received a blessing, and shortly we were already in the guest-house. Two
feelings crowded inside of me: first, how good it was that I had come early and
met the visitors on time, and secondly, that they had arrived two hours earlier
than scheduled, meaning that there was hope of serving a moleben at the sick
woman's bedside.
As soon as the guests were accommodated in the guest-house, I expressed
my request to Fr. George, and he passed it on to Vladyka. Vladyka immediately
gave a blessing to Fr. George and the protodeacon, and we at once drove to the
hospital.
At first G.A. greeted the icon with only a joyful, clear gaze. The
moleben began and the sick woman crossed herself several times. Then again.
When Fr. George blessed her with the icon, she raised herself from the bed
without any help, and on her knees venerated the icon, and this at a time when,
for ten days already, she had not only been unable to lift her head from her
pillow, but also the nurses had been wiping perspiration from her face — she
had been so weak.
After the moleben Fr. George encouraged her with a good word, and having
said good-bye, we left. The next day, the feast of the Protection of the Most
Holy Theotokos, after the liturgy and festal dinner, I went to the hospital.
The nurses told me that the sick woman had slept well the whole night, her
temperature was normal, and that she felt much better. When I entered the room
I was amazed by the significant change in G.A. 's condition. She looked
decidedly better than she did the day before, and conversed with me freely. Due
to the late hour I stayed for a very short time and went home. The next day,
Saturday, the hospital's main doctor, Dr. Loucks, confirmed the significant
improvement in the patient's condition and, having canceled her transfer to
Munich, scheduled an operation for the following Monday.
During the operation it was discovered that the gallbladder was so
filled with stones that it was beginning to rupture. In view of this condition
the journey to Munich might well have ended fatally.
In this whole story it is especially miraculous that: 1) the crisis came
just when the icon was scheduled to arrive at our camp; 2) in spite of the
previously established time of arrival, Vladyka Anastassy arrived with the icon
two hours early, which gave us an opportunity to visit the patient; 3) without
any particular reason I went to the meeting-place two hours earlier than
scheduled and, fortunately, met the visitors; 4) G.A.'s sick body, without any
physical reasons, battled the fever and strengthened significantly at first so
much that, although she had already lain immobile for a long time, she was able
to rise up on her knees and venerate the icon, and then, within three days, she
gained so much strength that she was able to endure a long and difficult
operation. But at the time of the visit of the icon the stones were still
present. She ate nothing after the moleben, and, as a result of complete
weakening, she had no internal "reserves." Of course, only the
inexplicable power of God, through the intercession of the Holy Virgin, could
have restored the sick woman's strength. 5) The experienced doctor believed in
the reality of such an improvement and decided to perform the operation — of
course, only by inspiration from above. All this, by the mercy of God and the
miraculous help of our Sovereign Lady through her holy icon, led to a fortunate
ending — the complete recovery of the sick woman. After the operation she
recovered quickly; soon, she checked out of the hospital. In December, together
with her mother, she left for Munich for the emigration committee, and in March
of the next year, 1950, departed for the U.S.
In the beginning of 1950, when G.A. was before the emigration committee,
I also was called before the same committee. At the preliminary medical
checkup, spots were discovered on my lungs, and I was sent to the Gauting
sanitarium for a detailed examination, and, if necessary, for treatment. I was
very disappointed. I did not wish to remain in Germany, nor did I wish to take
leave of G.A ., as during the time of her illness we became close friends, and
after her recovery we considered marriage after arriving in the U.S. G.A. often
visited me in the sanitarium, which was located near Munich. Now we had
switched roles, and here, not long before her departure for the U. S ., she
brought me a prosphora and said that she had been in the Synodal church and
asked that a moleben for my health be chanted before the miracle-working icon.
During those days the final examination of my lungs began. Many X-rays and
bacteriological examinations were made. As a result, the doctors came to the
following conclusion: my lungs were normal and there were no obstacles to me
entering the U.S.A. After an appropriate waiting period I left for the Funk
armory — the emigration center in Munich — from where I departed for the U.S.A.
in the month of August. Thus did our Most Holy Lady aid me.
Having met with G.A. in the U.S.A., we were married in the beginning of
1951. As at this time I was thirty-eight years old and G.A. thirty-five; we
wanted very much to have children and considered that at our age it was not yet
too late. On the other hand, the years were going by and we remained childless.
More than three years had passed, and we had lost hope (I had even stopped
paying for the "Blue Cross Maternity Plan"). In the autumn of 1954,
on the feast day of our church, "The Joy of All That Sorrow." as was
customary, the miracle-working icon came to us. Vladyka Anastassy and you, dear
Vladyka, were with us then; at that time you recorded from my wife's words, the
miracle which had occurred with her.
We did not arrange it, but, on our own (as much as our strength would
allow), both of us prayed fervently before the holy image that we would be
granted a child. Now the Most Holy Theotokos, having heard our prayers, granted
us her favor a third time: in nine and a half months, in August of 1955, God
gave us our daughter Marina. In spite of our age, all the illnesses we had
undergone, and all the adversities of the terrible years past, the child was
born completely healthy, and today, glory to God, is growing strong and
healthy, and studies very well.
The next great miracle took place during the winter of 1964-65.
As far back as the spring of 1964, I had begun to experience stomach
pains. I think it was from the day in Munich when I had slipped on an icy
sidewalk and fallen. It should be mentioned that in April of 1947I underwent a
serious operation in Germany, in the same hospital where G.A. had hers. My
operation was required because of an intestinal volvulus. After the operation
peritonitis (abdominal inflammation) occurred, and only with God's help did I
survive.
Now, after my fall, I began to experience more frequent and severe
intestinal
pain. Steadily, although very slowly, I began to lose weight. By autumn
I felt so bad that I had to enter the hospital on the 1 6th of September. Long
and thorough examination of the intestines did not reveal any changes, but only
a severe distortion of the stomach (as a result of the scar tissue formations
after peritonitis). It was decided that an operation be performed; this was
done on the 28th of September, and the next day I was given the joyous news
that no cancer had been found (in all such cases cancer is presupposed).
Although my stomach was completely mutilated by the scar tissue, it was brought
into order and "all would be well." Within a day, however, I suddenly
began to vomit heavily and something not unlike dysentery began. It turned out
that the passage to my intestines had closed.
For three weeks I was in great pain and lived only on artificial,
intravenous food. Finally on the l9th of October a second operation, now on the
intestines, was performed; it was necessary to remove a large section of the
small intestine. The operation was a very serious and long one (5 hours).
During this time I weakened completely and became emaciated.
At this time our patronal feast was approaching (November 6th) and we
hoped that our wonder-working icon would come and aid us. My wife and
nine-year-old daughter, seeing how my condition was growing worse, also
suffered greatly and awaited the feast day and arrival of the icon. It turned
out, however, that Metropolitan Philaret was going to Australia for a long
visit and was to take the icon with him. We were greatly disappointed and lost
heart.
Then, after the second operation, my temperature rose greatly. For a
long time I was unconscious. An internal abscess began which, fortunately,
erupted externally, and a fistula formed. All that I drank and ate (liquid
food) began to pour out through this fistula. My life was being supported only
by artificial feeding and blood transfusions.
Three more weeks passed and a third operation was performed (on the 10th
of November). The abscess was cleaned and a drainage passage established through
which, with special equipment, everything passing through was pumped out. I
turned into a skeleton with skin stretched over it, but awaited, not death, but
the return of the icon from Australia. In our prayers my wife and I asked that
the Lord preserve my life for the sake of our small daughter, and more so, as
here we had no relatives. For long months I lay in this fashion, all the while
with a little tube in my stomach, through which streamed all that I ate and
drank, and with needles in my arms, through which I received food and, at
times, blood. In this way I was supported physically; spiritually, my whole
family and I were being supported by our close friends. Many times our parish
priest, Fr. Eugene Lyslov, visited me in the hospital. He heard my confession
and gave me Holy Communion before the second operation. He constantly offered
up prayers for my health in our church. Similarly the assistant priest, Fr.
Nicholas Kotar, visited me often, prayed with me and comforted me. All of these
— and the parishioners of our church, and friends and acquaintances (including
Americans) diligently supported my family morally and financially. Many
(especially a member of the parish sisterhood, Nina M.) visited me often in the
hospital, by which they greatly helped me to bear the ordeal.
The feasts of the Entry into the Temple of the Most Holy Theotokos, St.
Nicholas day and the Nativity of Christ passed by, and I remained in the same
situation, but finally somewhat of an improvement took place. The drainage tube
was pushed out by the gradually-growing internal tissues and, little by little,
food began to pass the normal way.
On February 4th I was allowed to return home in the sanitarium car. For
two weeks I lay at home in a more-or-less bearable condition, but then suddenly
internal hemorrhaging began again. The fistula completely reopened and I
returned to my state of one and-a-half months earlier. My wife informed Fr.
George Grabbe of the new deterioration (at that time she was constantly
informing Fr. George about my condition and finding out when the icon would
arrive). Fr. George said that the icon would not arrive from Australia, but
that he would come the next day and serve a moleben to the Righteous John of
Kronstadt. Fr. George brought along the skoufia of St. John and a small icon of
the saint. The moleben was served. Fr. George placed the skoufia on me. After
the moleben he calmed me as usual with his kind words and left.
There was no improvement in my health, but St. John, our new Russian
intercessor and wonderworker, helped me in another way. My doctor, apparently
having decided that surgically he could not help me any more, refused to place
me in the hospital again (in spite of the severe deterioration of my health
after the hemorrhage). However, soon after the moleben our family doctor, Dr.
Khartoun (who helped us financially), came to me, and seeing that my condition
had become critical, phoned the surgeon yet again, and this time the latter
agreed with him, and I was taken to the hospital; this was the 8th of March. In
the hospital I was strengthened by blood transfusions, and again they began
intravenous feeding; but, as before, all the food I consumed ran out through the
reopened fistula.
Finally, the important and decisive day arrived. My wife and daughter
(she had not gone to school that day) came to me early. Being seriously and
hopelessly ill, I was in a private room all the time, and my young daughter was
allowed to see me only because of the exceptional situation. That afternoon Fr.
George arrived with Hieromonk Anastassy. They brought in the icon, blessed my
family and me, and the moleben began. Then I confessed and received Holy
Communion. All the while the icon was above me on a special table, and I held
on to it with the one hand free from the needle of intravenous feeding. I
placed the cross from around my neck on the icon, and it remained there for the
duration of the moleben. I felt so well, as if my own mother, who could help
her child with any problem, had come to me.
After the moleben each of us prayed privately and we venerated the icon.
Fr. George blessed us all with it once more, and they left.
Shortly after, our good friend Irene Nicholaevna P. visited me. She
works in one of Philadelphia's hospitals, where she is in charge of a
laboratory. In our conversation she expressed the thought that a precise
bacteriological examination be made of a sample from the fistula, and if any
harmful bacteria were found, attempt to destroy them with appropriate
medicines. We agreed with her, but knowing how the local doctors did not like
anyone's advice, were sure that our request would not be fulfilled. During this
time this had occurred more than once.
All the same, the next morning, during the doctor's rounds, I told my
doctor the idea. At first, as he had earlier in this type of circumstance, he
looked at me agitatedly and I could see what he was ready to say. Then he
suddenly smiled, and having thought for a while, said, "Well, we can try
it." Right then they took the sample for analysis. The analysis revealed
the presence of harmful bacteria, which did not allow the wound to heal.
Accordingly, the doctor prescribed a new antibiotic of English origin. The
result was quickly (in comparison to the duration of the illness) evident.
Within a week the sore began to reduce rapidly, and in three weeks the wound
healed completely. All that remained was a slightly visible little wound, like
a pinprick. I began to gain weight gradually. I was already able to sit up, and
soon, with the help of the nurses, or of my daughter, could take my first
steps.
The Pascha of the Lord was drawing near. We began to hope that we could
celebrate it together at home. So it happened; on the l5th of April, exactly
seven months from the day I entered the hospital, I went home, and soon the
feast of the Holy Resurrection of Christ arrived. When, during the night, my
wife and daughter returned home from the service, we exchanged the Paschal
kiss, and I was able to share the cheese paskha with them.
A great miracle! Throughout half a year none of the multitude of doctors
had thought of such a simple thing as an analysis of the exuded fluid, and this
not because of apathy. They all wanted very much to help me by all means. It is
perfectly clear that the Most Holy Lady placed the idea into Irene
Nicholaevna's head. It was she who directed the doctor, and instead of the
already-prepared "No," he said, "Well, we can try it." As a
result, after being in a hopeless condition for half a year, I got on my feet,
and this not before, but rather immediately after the wonder-working icon
visited me.
Of course, I remained an "invalid." Now (today it is exactly
three years since the second operation) I am very weak, can eat only softened
food, walk for only very short distances (2-3 blocks), and must often stay in
bed for long periods of time. However, since the autumn of 1965 I work two or
three days a week, and this, together with my wife's small earnings, allows us
to exist and raise our daughter, who is now twelve years old.
Glory to God! Glory to His Most Holy Mother — our Protectress! Glory to
her honorable miracle-working icon!
Sergei Shenuk
Editor's note: This letter was
written in 1967. Several years ago SA. Shenuk was ordained to the holy
priesthood and until recently served as assistant priest in his parish church
in Philadelphia.
The Healing of a Woman Hopelessly ill With
Tuberculosis.
I ask forgiveness for being so late in informing you of the healing from
a hopeless stage of tuberculosis of my fiancee, later my wife Maria, nee
Smimova.
On Sunday, the 9th of September 1952, together with the now deceased
Alexandra Feodorovna Luper, we went to visit the Russian girl Maria Smimova,
who was a patient at the Nomerheide Sanitarium in Holland.
The journey was long and difficult. Along the way Alexandra Feodorovna
told me the following about Maria. During the last war, in 1942, at the age of
15 she was forcibly deported to Germany to work. The overburdening work in
unsanitary conditions, together with the poor food, ruined Maria's health.
With the approach of the American army, and fearing retaliation from the
retreating German soldiers, in the spring of 1944 Maria fled with several
Russian girls to southern Holland. Until the end of the war she lived there in
hiding with a kind Dutch widow. In the spring of 1945, already after the end of
the war, Maria began to cough up blood. She lay for some time at the home of
the widow who had taken her in, and then she was able to enter a tuberculosis
sanitarium. It was at this sanitarium that the late A.F. Luper introduced me to
her. I liked Maria very much, from the first glance. Because of her open, kind,
happy face, her optimism, and her desire for life, after three or four visits I
fell in love with her.
Soon after my first visit, my emigration visa to the USA arrived with a
term of one half year. Until meeting Maria I wanted to leave for North America.
And now, at once, both love and the visa. Which was I to choose?
My financial situation was extremely unsatisfactory, I was not in a
position to support Maria, and I decided with her approval, to go to prosperous
America so as to support her from there and save money for the future. By that
time I had already proposed to Maria, and we had become engaged. Departing I
convinced Maria that upon my honor I would not forget her, and that we would
see each other again.
Leaving the sanitarium, I met the senior nurse (a Catholic nun) named
Archangela, who was in charge of the wing Maria was staying in. I told the nun
that I was going to America, and that I wanted to know in what condition
Maria's health was at the time. She replied that Maria was a hopeless case, and
that there was not the slightest chance for her recovery. Both lungs had become
infected, the right one especially. The stomach cavity was infected by TB and
an operation was pointless. The doctors had ceased to prescribe medicines for
the ill woman, except for pain killers, and her days were numbered.
This news, as it were, splashed me with cold water, but I thought,
"Who can number days? Only God! We are all in the hands of the Lord
God!" I heatedly replied to the nurse, "I believe that God exists and
that she will recover."
In March I was already in San Francisco. I was taken in by the late Fr.
John Kliarovich. Soon I found work and friends, but I did not forget that in a
TB sanitarium in Holland lay my fiancee.
I wrote her letters every week and often sent her parcels and money. I
do not remember exactly: it seems in the summer of 1953 Metropolitan Anastassy
arrived in San Francisco with the Kursk wonder-working icon of the Mother of
God. It was the all-night vigil. Vladyka Anastassy was serving with Vladyka
Tikhon and a multitude of clergy. On the analogion in the middle of the church,
all in the glow of many candles, lay the miracle-working image. I also put up a
candle and for the first time in my life drew near and venerated this great and
holy icon. I was caught up by an unusual feeling of joy and reverence. For the
first time in several years I saw tears of compunction on many faces. The holy
wonder-working icon lay some two or three paces from me! The unusual spiritual
fervor engulfed me. Some kind of link of the present and past passed before me.
I did not feel time — I was outside of time. I relived my childhood and youth.
Everything was here in this image, and somehow, involuntarily, a fervent mental
prayer began to pour forth of its own accord. "Little Mother and
Protectress, heal my ailing Maria, and unto the end of my days I will not eat
meat on Wednesdays and Fridays!" (At that time I did not know that by
church regulations, Orthodox Christians are not permitted to eat meat on
Wednesdays and Fridays.)
With this thought I venerated the wonder-working image once more and went
to Metropolitan Anastassy to be anointed and to receive a blessing.
Soon I found out that Maria's condition had become much better. And the
doctor decided that she was able to withstand an operation. Having received
news about this from Maria, I fervently prayed to the Heavenly Queen for a
fortunate outcome of the operation. Sometime after the operation Maria was able
to rise from her bed and take short walks. On the other hand, it was impossible
to bring her to America. I then decided to return to Holland. On April 16,
1956, Maria left the sanitarium, and on April 25th of the same year I arrived
in Rotterdam, where I was greeted at the dock by the onetime "hopelessly
ill" Maria.
We were married long ago. Glory to God in the highest! Glory to the Most
Holy Lady and Theotokos — the Hodigitria of our Church Abroad — the Kursk Root
Mother of God!
Source: http://www.fatheralexander.org/booklets/english/icon_kursk_e.htm
