Orthodox stories and life stories. Orthodox stories for children. Live pictures. About the priest and the Mercedes

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ABOUT FAITH

Epiphany

At one Moscow school, a boy stopped going to classes. He doesn't go for a week or two...

Leva didn’t have a phone, and his classmates, on the advice of the teacher, decided to go to his house.

Levi's mother opened the door. Her face was very sad.

The guys greeted each other and timidly asked;

Why doesn't Leva go to school? Mom answered sadly:

He will no longer study with you. He had surgery. Unsuccessful. Lyova is blind and cannot walk on his own...

The guys were silent, looked at each other, and then one of them suggested:

And we will take turns taking him to school.

And accompany you home.

“And we’ll help you do your homework,” classmates chirped, interrupting each other.

Tears welled up in my mother's eyes. She led her friends into the room. A little later, feeling the way with his hand, Lyova came out to them with a blindfold.

The guys froze. Only now did they truly understand what a misfortune had happened to their friend. Leva said with difficulty:

Hello.

And then it rained down from all sides:

I'll pick you up tomorrow and take you to school.

And I'll tell you what we studied in algebra.

And I'm in history.

Leva didn’t know who to listen to and just nodded his head in confusion. Tears rolled down my mother's face.

After leaving, the guys made a plan - who would come in when, who would explain what subjects, who would walk with Lyova and take him to school.

At school, the boy who sat at the same desk with Lyova quietly told him during the lesson what the teacher was writing on the board.

And how the class froze when Lyova answered! How everyone rejoiced at his A’s, even more than their own!

Leva studied well. The whole class began to study better. In order to explain a lesson to a friend in trouble, you need to know it yourself. And the guys tried. Moreover, in the winter they began to take Lyova to the skating rink. The boy loved classical music very much, and his classmates went with him to symphony concerts...

Lev graduated from school with a gold medal, then entered college. And there were friends who became his eyes.

After college, Leva continued to study and eventually became a world-famous mathematician, academician Pontryagin.

There are countless people who have seen the light for good.

Is this a friend?

About one country, scientists have created a robot that is capable of learning. They named him Saik. Saik can remember any information and answer any question. Well, just an excellent student, only made of metal and plastic.

He is more obedient than you. The older you become, the more willful and stubborn you become. But Saik only acts according to the programs embedded in him. He won’t even do a good deed unless ordered.

A blind man stands at an intersection and cannot cross the street - he does not see the traffic light. You'll quickly figure out what to do, right? But this is not the case with Syke. If this is not provided for by the program, it will stand there like a traffic light and blink its lights.

They asked Saik:

Who are your parents? He replied:

I do not have parents. I am a computer program, not a living being.

And what do you can?

I remember what I was taught. I can perceive various information and process it.

They asked the computer boy:

Saik, what are your tasks?

Constantly accumulate knowledge and share it with people.

Knowledge is, of course, good... But is that really all that matters? What are they without warmth and kindness?

Would you like a friend like this? Hardly. There is no soul in it. Can't love. And without love, is it really a friend?!

And in general, if you don’t love, then why live?

My mushroom! My!

Grandfather and grandson went into the forest to pick mushrooms. The grandfather is an experienced mushroom picker and knows the secrets of the forest. He walks well, but bends down with difficulty - his back may not straighten if he bends over sharply.

The grandson is nimble. He notices where grandfather rushed - and then, right there. While the grandfather bows to the fungus, the grandson is already shouting from under the bush:

My mushroom! I found!

Grandfather remains silent and goes on a search again. As soon as he sees the prey, the grandson again:

My mushroom!

So we returned home. The granddaughter shows his mother the full basket. She rejoices at how wonderful her mushroom picker is. And grandfather with an empty basket sighs:

Yes... Years... He's getting a little old, a little old... But maybe it's not a matter of years at all, and it's not

in mushrooms? And what is better - an empty basket or an empty soul?

The soul is lost.

The baby is crying - he has lost his mother. He doesn’t know his father’s address or last name. Where to go? Strangers take him by the hand and lead him. Where? For what? Things happen these days. Then there will be advertisements in newspapers, on television: a boy of such and such age is lost, dressed in such and such...

We got lost too. Our soul cries, helpless in the invisible world of spirits. He knows neither the name of his Heavenly Father nor the eternal Fatherland. She doesn't know why she was given life...

Over the ravine.

There was a graduation party. The chicks fluttered out of the nest. They drank secretly. Head is spinning. And not only from wine - from an excess of strength, the desire to fly. And then there’s someone else’s car with the engine running. The owner is not visible. Well, now the whole world is theirs!

Sit down! Go! Ha ha!

And the ball is in full swing. Someone whispers tender words for the first time, someone shares a dream... Turn. Another turn.

There's a bridge there! Stop! Hit the brakes!!! Wait a minute...

The whole city mourned them. He covered the graves with flowers. A day or two later the flowers withered...

Who did you serve, sons? They never took off... They didn’t build their nest, they didn’t raise their chicks...

When you walk across the bridge, horror takes over. It's like hearing someone moan. The ravine is deep. You think about other ravines, invisible ones.

The engine of absurd desires is gaining momentum... Where are the brakes? There's an abyss ahead! Lord, give me some sense!

Smile.

Their doors were opposite. They often met on the landing. One passed by, his brow furrowed, and did not even glance at his neighbor. With all his appearance he said: I have no time for you. The other smiled welcomingly. Wishes for health were already ready to roll off his tongue, but, seeing the cold inaccessibility, he lowered his eyes, the words got stuck in his throat, and his smile faded.

Years passed like this. Days flashed by, similar to one another. The neighbors were getting old. When meeting, the benevolent no longer expected a greeting and only politely made way. But one day his granddaughter came to visit him. She was all glowing, as if the sun was shining in her eyes and smile. When the little girl met her gloomy neighbor, she joyfully exclaimed:

Hello!

The stranger stopped. He never expected this. Blue eyes, like cornflowers, looked at him. There was so much tenderness and affection in them that this stern man was even embarrassed. He did not know how to talk to neighbors and children. He was used to only giving orders. No one dared to talk to him without the secretary’s permission, but there was some kind of button... Mumbling something incomprehensible, he hurried to the car that was waiting for him at the entrance.

When the important person got into the Mercedes, the girl waved after him. The sullen neighbor pretended not to notice this. You never know what kind of small fry flashes behind the windows of a foreign car.

They met quite often. Each time the girl’s face lit up with a joyful smile, and her unearthly light made the neighbor’s soul warmer. He began to like it, and one day he even nodded in response to a ringing greeting.

Suddenly, meetings with the baby stopped. Severe noticed that a doctor was coming to the apartment opposite.

When meeting, the benevolent one still politely let the neighbor go ahead, but for some reason he was without his granddaughter. And then the gloomy man realized that it was her smile, her waving little hand that he was now missing. At work, he was greeted in a businesslike manner and smiled politely, but these were completely different smiles.

So the monotonous, boring days passed. One day the stern man could not stand it. Seeing his neighbor, he slightly raised his hat, greeted him with restraint and asked:

Where is your granddaughter? She hasn't been seen for a long time.

She got sick.

That’s how it is?.. - his grief was completely sincere.

The next time they met on the site, the gloomy one, after saying hello, opened the “diplomat.” After rummaging through his papers, he took out a bar of chocolate and muttered embarrassedly:

Tell your girl. Let him get better.

And he hurriedly trotted towards the exit. The delicate one's eyes became moist and a lump rose in his throat. He couldn’t even say thank you, he just moved his lips.

After that, when they met, they already said kind words to each other, and the stern one asked how his granddaughter was feeling.

And when the girl recovered and they met, the little girl rushed to her neighbor and hugged him. And the eyes of this stern man became moist.

Birds.

The birds flew in and chirped. They either greeted us or hinted that they wanted to peck at something. And I was too lazy to get out of bed and go out to the balcony.

The birds chirped and flew away. Someone else will feed them, show care, someone whose heart has awakened.

Where are they now? To whom did God send them? Whose heart are they knocking on?

Cross.

At the age of four, Deniska was left without a mother. And he knew nothing at all about his father. The mother did something terrible - she killed a woman. Everyone abandoned her and Denis. What he saw in his wanderings through orphanages, hardly anyone can tell. But the boy himself did not want to remember this.

In the end, Deniska ended up in the second grade of a boarding school. One day, a teacher, helping him get dressed, noticed a cross on a string on his thin chest.

Who gave it to you?

Do you know who this is?

Do you know why He was crucified on the cross? Denis didn’t know anything, but for some reason he

I wanted to wear a cross near my heart.

The mother was recently released from the colony, lives in an unknown place, and the cross is here. Only sometimes you have to give it away: Dima, Vova, and others wanted to vilify it... How can you refuse? The guys got it too... Vova’s mom made a den out of her apartment. Dima, although he had his own house, lived there as if abandoned, and often went hungry. So they pass the cross to each other in turns. Warms...

Soul is a Christian

The family was not a believer. One day they passed by a temple. The bells rang. A little boy of about six suddenly knelt down on the street and began to be baptized. Nobody taught him this. Maybe you saw it somewhere? Suddenly - myself!

People around them began to look at them. The mother was indignant:

Get up now! Don't shame us! And the baby answered her:

What are you doing, mom?! This is the Church!

But neither his mother nor his father understood him. They took the boy by the hands and led him away.

Christ said: “Let the children in and do not hinder them from coming to Me, for to such is the Kingdom of Heaven.” Alas, the parents did not know these words and took the baby away from Christ.

Is it really forever?

Children's confession

In the orphanage, the priest with a bright soul baptized the whole group at once. They began to call the teacher, who became the children's godmother, mom. The group was friendly. Of course, things happened to them too: they could quarrel and fight. And then they come to their senses and extend their hands to each other:

I'm sorry.

And forgive me.

One day a new person appeared among them and brought with him some other, unkind spirit.

One boy's player disappeared. Who took it? It is a sin to accuse someone without evidence. Gone and gone. And then it was time for the children’s confession, for which everyone had been preparing for a long time. And suddenly this new guy confessed to the priest:

And then to the guys:

It's me, I took it! Sorry...

Everyone froze. The boy whose player disappeared said:

Let it be yours.

The minute was amazing. And one girl gave her player to this boy.

We will not mention their names. For what? God knows them. And the one who asked for forgiveness, and those who gave the player to each other.

Save me, God!

One winter, the guys who were fishing were carried out to sea on an ice floe. When it got dark, the houses realized that there were no children and made a fuss. Aviation joined the search. But try, find it in the dark. The pilot can fly right over the guys and not notice them. If only they had a flashlight or a radio transmitter. They would signal: "SOS! Save our souls..."

There was also such a case: a girl geologist got lost. Taiga all around. He doesn’t know where to go.

The girl was a believer and began to pray to St. Nicholas the Wonderworker, knowing that he helps everyone. I prayed with all my heart. Suddenly he sees an old man coming. He approaches her and asks:

Where are you going, honey?

She told what happened to her and asked to show the way to some village.

The old man explained that there were no villages around.

And you,” he says, “climb this hill, you will see a house.” There are people there.

The girl looked at the hill, turned around to thank the old man, but he was no longer there, as if he had never existed.

Behind the hill, she actually found a hut, where she was warmly greeted, fed and warmed. She was told that the elder was right - there was no housing around for three hundred kilometers. What would have happened to the girl if she had not prayed?

How did the story with the boys end? Unfortunately, they did not know how to pray; their parents did not teach them. But one of them had a believing grandmother. All night she asked the Mother of God, our Helper and Intercessor, for them. She also prayed to our Lord Jesus Christ, begging Him to save the children...

The next morning the boys were found and taken off the ice floe. However, such stories happen not only at sea.

Our whole life is like a raging sea of ​​sin, capable of swallowing every soul if it does not cry out to God: “Save, Lord!”

The voice of one crying

Nobody believed her. She entered houses, knocked on windows, and called out to everyone she met:

Save yourself! There's trouble at the reactor! All around - death! Run, close the windows, doors, take the children off the street, leave, leave!

It was Sunday. The sun shone brightly. The kids were playing on the street. What's the problem? What do you?! They would have told us, announced it on the radio... After all, there are bosses. Don't panic, girl! Are you overheated in the sun?

And she kept calling out to people... She knew that being on the street was dangerous, that you could catch a lethal dose of this death, but she kept walking... The girl saw that no one listened to her, did not believe her, but she said to everyone she met:

Save yourself!

Isn’t this how the messengers of Orthodoxy were and are met with unbelief? They were thrown into cages with wild animals, burned, driven alive under ice, rotted in prisons, and they knocked on every house and cried:

Save yourself! The enemy of the human race does not sleep and catches every soul. Fall before God! Repent, for the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand.

Voice in the wilderness...

A moment, just a moment...

The grandson whom I once taught to walk has grown up imperceptibly. He stretched out, became taller than me, but does not want to learn to walk before God. You tell him something, and he proudly replies:

Okay, let's figure it out.

He is on first name terms with himself.

In the evenings, the grandson often walked with his friends. My grandmother and I never let him go without a blessing, which he graciously accepted. In general, he is taciturn, but one day he came back excited and told the following story.

The house was already close. The street is deserted: no people, no cars. All that remains is to cross the tram tracks - and here it is, our home yard. And suddenly - bang! A bottle thrown by some drunk from the fourth floor fell right in front of his nose and broke into pieces! A little more - and she would have hit him in the head.

A moment... Just a moment separated him from death, just half a step... The grandson looked around. Upstairs they continued to feast. There is no one around. Who would help him? And was it possible to help? But someone gave the guy this saving moment.

Now, before leaving the house, he says as if by chance:

Well, I'm off!

It means bless you, grandparents. And he stands straight. Already on "you" with a blessing.

If we believe

The kids agreed to play blind man's buff. One was blindfolded with a towel. They were convinced that he couldn’t peek, they spun him around and ran off in all directions. They started calling and clapping their hands so that he could catch them by the sound. The blindfolded boy tried to grab them, rushing at every rustle. And the guys suddenly became quiet - and not a sound, as if no one was there. But the boy is sure that they are nearby. He doesn’t see, but he believes that they are here.

Faith is confidence in the invisible as in the visible.

The mother put the baby to bed, sang him a lullaby, crossed him, kissed him and went into the next room. The baby does not see her, but believes that his mother is nearby. You just have to call her and she will come.

So we do not see God and our Intercessor, the Mother of God, but They are nearby. As soon as we call, they will be with us, although we will not see them.

Expectation

They will come to those who believe in Them. And they will come and help and protect.

If we believe it.

A cheerful company - three guys and three girls - were traveling on a bus to the golden beaches of Florida. A gentle sun, warm sand, blue water and a sea of ​​pleasure awaited them. They loved and were loved. They gave joyful smiles to those around them. They wanted everyone around them to be happy.

A rather young man sat next to them. Every burst of joy, every burst of laughter was reflected in pain on his gloomy face. He shrank all over and withdrew even more into himself.

One of the girls couldn’t stand it and sat down next to him. She learned that the gloomy man's name was Vingo. It turned out that he had spent four years in a New York prison and was now going home. This surprised my fellow traveler even more. Why is he so sad?

Are you married? - she asked.

This simple question received a strange answer:

Don't know.

The girl asked again in confusion:

Don't you know this? Wingo said:

When I went to prison, I wrote to my wife that I would be away for a long time. If it becomes difficult for her to wait for me, if the children start asking about me, and this will hurt her... In general, if she cannot stand it, let her forget me with a clear conscience. I can understand this. “Find yourself another husband,” I wrote to her. “You don’t even have to tell me about it.”

Are you driving home without knowing what awaits you?

Yes,” Vingo answered, barely hiding his excitement.

A week ago, when I was informed that due to good behavior I would be released early, I wrote to her again. As you enter my hometown, you will notice a large oak tree by the road. I wrote that if she needs me, then let her hang a yellow handkerchief on it. Then I'll get off the bus and go home. But if she doesn’t want to see me, then she shouldn’t do anything. I'll pass by.

It was very close to the city. The young people took the front seats and began to count the kilometers. The tension on the bus grew. Vingo closed his eyes in exhaustion. There were ten, then five kilometers left... And suddenly the passengers jumped up from their seats, began to scream and dance with joy.

Looking out the window, Vingo was petrified: all the oak branches were completely covered with yellow scarves. Trembling in the wind, they welcomed the man returning to his home.

How will the Lord meet us if we return to Him with repentance?

With joy, for He Himself promised: “There will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous people.”

At least every day

he still remembers the cloud, although thirty years have passed. It happened in the village of Danilovichi, near Gomel.

People have forgotten God. Rivers began to turn and seas were created. They imagined themselves to be gods. How to reason with them?

And there was a drought. Not a drop of rain fell in a month. The grasses drooped and turned yellow, everything burned. What should I do? If the crop perishes, famine cannot be avoided. And the collective farmers trudged to the chairman with a request to allow them to serve a prayer service in the field with the priest, icons and church hymns. And times were terrible then. The authorities tried to close the remaining churches and disperse the miraculously surviving priests, so that there would be no Orthodox spirit left on earth.

The chairman was in complete despair. And the plan must be carried out, and he is afraid of hunger, and of godless authorities. And I feel sorry for the people - how will they survive? He waved his hand - serve your prayer service!

For three days the whole world fasted, not even feeding the cattle. And there is not a cloud in the sky. Finally, people went into the field with icons and prayers. In front is Feodosia's father in full regalia. Everyone is crying out to God, all souls seem to have merged into one in repentance: “Forgive us, Lord, for we have decided to live without You. Lord, have mercy...”

And suddenly they see a cloud appearing on the horizon. At first it was small, and then the whole sky over the field became clouded. How they all cried out to God! And it started to rain. And not just rain, but real downpour! The Lord watered the earth.

The chairman rejoiced: “Pray at least every day!” And what’s surprising is that not a single drop fell in the neighboring areas.

The son of Father Theodosius was then five years old. Now he himself has become a priest. His father's name is Fedor. You ask him about the cloud, his worried face and he brightens up. Is it possible to forget that shower of Divine grace? Now Father Fedor is building the Church of All Saints so that people do not die from spiritual thirst.

Shield

Colonel Andrei Karamzin, the son of the famous historian who wrote the famous “History of the Russian State,” went to the Crimean War. How to protect the life of a dear brother? The sisters sewed the ninetieth psalm into his uniform, in which the following words:

My refuge and my defense, my God in whom I trust! He will deliver you from the snare of the fowler, from the destructive plague, He will cover you with His feathers, and you will be safe under His wings; shield and fence - His truth.

Such was the belief in Orthodox families: holy words will protect better than any shield.

Andrei Karamzin remained unharmed in all battles. But one day, before a battle, he was too lazy to change into the uniform that contained the saving lines, and at the very beginning of the battle he was killed on the spot.

Is this a coincidence?

With a shrine

The enemy was aiming straight for the heart. He hit for sure, without missing a beat. But the bullet did not touch the officer’s chest; it got stuck in the copper icon of St. Nicholas. Officer Boris Savinov walked with this shrine along the terrible roads of war - from Moscow to Konigsberg, fought at Stalingrad, on the Southern and Belorussian fronts. He was wounded several times, lay in hospitals, but his heart was guarded on all fiery roads by the icon of St. Nicholas the Wonderworker. Prayers also protected him, for he had been a believer since childhood, and even managed to become a deacon before the war. Boris was also protected by the prayers of his grandfather and father, who were shot after the revolution for being priests. But God has no dead. Everyone is alive with Him. Didn't they pray for their grandson and son when he went into battle when the enemy was aiming at him?

Believing in God and relying on Him, the officer was amazingly courageous. If he wore all his battle medals, his chest would shine. He also had the rare Order of Alexander Nevsky, and the Order of the Red Banner, the Red Star, the Patriotic War of the first and second degree, and many medals. After the war, the brave officer became a priest. Father Boris restored the church in the village of Turki near Bobruisk, then in the city of Msti-Slavl. Now he is a priest in Mogilev.

And the icon that saved him is kept in the Trinity-Sergius Lavra.

Duel

They tried to escape. Such people are called refugees. But what kind of refugees are they? Many of them, let alone running, did not know how to walk. They were held in their arms, pressed to their chests. And yet they fled for their lives.

There were battles for every meter of Crimea. Children, helpless old people, the wounded - those who could not fight - were put on ships to be transported to the Taman Peninsula. There was salvation there. But we still had to swim there. And death raged over Crimea. The day before, a ship with seriously wounded people was sunk by fascist aircraft. Just to get past the Kerch Strait...

Suddenly German planes appeared in the sky. The weather was clear and visibility was excellent. Flying just above the deck, the masters of death saw children's heads, stretchers with the sick, and perhaps saw the faces of children gripped by horror. And, looking at the defenseless, they indifferently dropped bombs and pressed the triggers of machine guns.

The fascists thundered over the children's heads, dropping their deadly load, and then again gained altitude so that, turning around, they could aim properly and not miss this time.

The refugees could not see the eyes of their killers, covered with helmets. What was in these looks? The excitement of players honing their skills? Hatred? The desire to destroy children specifically, so that this people has no future? Or did they automatically carry out the inhumane order? It's so simple - press a button, like in a computer game. A bomb will explode and someone will no longer be alive. Again and again they gained altitude and turned the planes around...

And then a little girl came out to duel with flying death. She stood on the bow of the ship and... began to pray. The Nazis covered it with lead. She answered them with prayer. The howl and roar of exploding bombs and the chatter of machine guns drowned out the words, but the girl continued to pray to the Lord for help.

The ships released a smoke screen. How unreliable this protection is, which can dissipate at any moment... But God, having heard the words of a child’s prayer, commanded the breeze to blow across the ships so that the smoke would cover them, and the Nazis would needlessly scatter their deadly cargo.

The fascist planes retreated without damaging any of the ships or hitting the praying girl. They flew away. But what will these pilots say to the Creator when they appear before Him?

The refugees went ashore safe and sound. And everyone thanked the little girl with tears and gave her something, because everyone understood that a miracle had happened: a child’s prayer saved thousands of people from certain death.

We don't know this girl's name. She was so small... But what a huge, saving faith lived in her heart!

Back to life

Based on the story "Seryozha" by A. Dobrovolsky

Usually the brothers' beds were next to each other. But when Seryozha fell ill with pneumonia, Sasha was moved to another room and was forbidden to disturb the baby. They just asked me to pray for my brother, who was getting worse and worse.

One evening Sasha looked into the patient’s room. Seryozha lay with his eyes open, seeing nothing and barely breathing. Frightened, the boy rushed to the office, from which the voices of his parents could be heard. The door was ajar, and Sasha heard his mother, crying, say that Seryozha was dying. Dad answered with pain in his voice:

Why cry now? He can't be saved anymore...

In horror, Sasha rushed to his sister’s room. There was no one there, and he fell to his knees, sobbing, in front of the icon of the Mother of God hanging on the wall. Through the sobs the words broke through:

Lord, Lord, make sure that Seryozha does not die!

Sasha's face was flooded with tears. Everything around blurred as if in a fog. The boy saw in front of him only the face of the Mother of God. The sense of time disappeared.

Lord, You can do anything, save Seryozha!

It was already completely dark. Exhausted, Sasha stood up with the corpse and lit the table lamp. The Gospel lay before her. The boy turned a few pages, and suddenly his gaze fell on the line: “Go, and as you have believed, so be it for you...”

As if he had heard an order, he went to Seryozha. Mom sat silently at the bedside of her beloved brother. She gave a sign: “Don’t make noise, Seryozha fell asleep.”

Words were not spoken, but this sign was like a ray of hope. He fell asleep - that means he’s alive, that means he will live!

Three days later, Seryozha could already sit in bed, and the children were allowed to visit him. They brought their brother’s favorite toys, a fortress and houses that he had been cutting and gluing before his illness - everything that could please the baby. The little sister with the big doll stood next to Seryozha, and Sasha, jubilantly, took a photograph of them.

These were moments of real happiness.

Ascended

Shortly before this happened, Sasha told his mother:

I saw two holy angels in a dream. They took me by the hands and carried me to heaven.

Two days later he was killed. A little older guys killed him, they coveted his new jacket. Mom saved money for it for a long time, gave it to her son, and now...

How could this happen?

Mom told me that even when he was very young, Sasha loved to go to church. I tried not to miss a single Sunday service. Then I started attending Sunday school...

Perhaps the boy was already ready to meet the Savior.

Only God knows this.

The kingdom of heaven to you, Sashenka!

To the world above

One boy wanted to go sledding down the hill. There are sleds, and the mountain is not far, but my parents won’t let me go - they’re afraid that I’ll get infected from my peers with something dangerous to my soul. He will see enough bad examples or hear a bad word, but like a seed, it will lie and lie and grow. And a good boy will begin to speak rudely or act not according to the commandments of love. A child's soul is like a plowed field. And a good seed, if it falls into it, sprouts, and so does any weed. It is not easy to pull out this thistle when it becomes prickly. So the parents protected their child so that he would not fall from the heights of childhood purity into the abyss of sin.

But a boy is a boy. I really want to ride! And then the time of Lent came. The people in those days strictly observed fasting. Children were not even allowed on the ice mountain. They blocked it with a stick to prevent them from rolling around. And Ganya decided that now it was possible, since there was no one there. I took the sled and headed up the mountain.

But can anything good happen without the blessing of the parents and their permission? And the Lord does not allow you to indulge in fun during Lent. Previously, when people did not forget God, even theaters were closed these days. The people prayed fervently, visited the sick, helped the poor, read the Holy Books and went to church.

But the boy, violating age-old customs, decided to do his own thing. He rushed down the icy cliff and ran into the very stick that covered the mountain. And not just on a stick, but on a nail sticking out of it. He tore his pants, slashed his new felt boots, and injured his leg. The blood is running, it hurts... But most of all the boy was afraid of upsetting his mother. As soon as he does something, mom kneels in front of the icon and prays with tears:

Lord, I begged You for my son, but he plays pranks and doesn’t listen. What should I do with it? And he himself can perish, and he can destroy me... Lord! Don't leave him, bring him to his senses!

Gana felt sorry for her mother. He couldn’t bear her tears, he came up and whispered:

Mom, mommy, I won't do it anymore.

Seeing that she continued to ask God, he himself, standing next to her, began to pray.

“Now mom will worry so much!” thought Ganya. “What should I do?” The boy climbed into the hayloft and began to pray to Saint Simeon, the Wonderworker of Verkhoturye. He is revered throughout Siberia. Ganya prayed with contrition of heart, cried, and promised to improve. He also made a vow to go on foot to worship the righteous Simeon in Verkhoturye. And this path is not short. He prayed fervently. I was tired and fell asleep unnoticed. In a dream, an old man approached him. The face is stern, but the look is friendly.

Why did you call me? - asks. Ganya, without waking up, answers:

Heal me, servant of God.

Are you going to Verkhoturye?

I'll go, I'll definitely go! Only you heal me! Please heal!

The holy elder touched his sore leg, ran his hand over the wound and disappeared. Ganya woke up from a strong itch in his leg. He looked and gasped: the wound had healed. The boy stood up and began to reverently and joyfully thank the Wonderworker.

And a few years later Ganya went with pilgrims to Verkhoturye to venerate the saint. The day before, in a dream, he saw the road along which he had to go: villages, forests, rivers. That’s how it all turned out later.

For seven days the pilgrims were at the holy place. When they left, Ganya gave new copper patches to the wanderer, very similar to the old man who appeared to him in a dream and healed him. The Stranger quietly said to Gana:

You will be a monk.

He said and disappeared into the crowd.

Years have passed. Ganya became a monk, Archimandrite Gabriel. God granted him to know the height of the Divine Spirit. Thousands of people came to him for spiritual advice, and he helped everyone to save themselves from the disastrous abyss of sin.

It’s good that his parents protected him from evil. That is why he was affectionate with people until his last breath. Now he is in the heavenly world praying for us.

Present

At the airport, passengers are allowed through a special gate before the flight. If someone wants to bring a bomb or grenade onto the plane, a warning bell will ring. The guards will grab the person who is up to no good and will not allow him to fly into the sky.

So in the Kingdom of Heaven, where every pure soul is expected, they will not let in the one who harbors evil in his heart.

So that we are not detained by heavenly guards and our soul is not prohibited from flying, let us look into it ourselves and see what desires and thoughts we live by?

One day a girl was asked:

What do you love to do most? Without hesitation she answered:

All the time she is free from classes and household chores, she tries to give people joy. Either he will make a toy for some kid or knit mittens, or he will bring groceries from the store to an old neighbor.

She herself is like a gift. You look at her, and the world becomes brighter. The guards will gladly let such people into the Heavenly Kingdom: you made others happy - now fly, rejoice yourself.

Give people joy, dear!

Control

What now, my friend, is the time: if you want to wear a cross, wear it. But it happened, it happened, when for the cross of Christ they were thrown alive into cages with animals. Tens of thousands of onlookers froze, waiting for the bloody spectacle. Twenty centuries ago, everyone chose where to go - into cages to be torn to pieces or into the stands of the circus.

But the quiet youth, going to his torment himself,

He crossed himself, hearing a menacing roar,

He pressed his arms crosswise to his chest,

An enlightened face rose to the sky.

And the king of beasts, raising a curtain of dust,

He sprawled, growling, at the children's feet.

And, like thunder, the stands shouted:

Great and glorious is the Christian God!

In the twentieth century they made fun of believers in a different way. If they notice a child’s cross, the whole class starts hooting. And they not only mocked us, but also exiled us together with our parents to distant places, from which few people returned. Even in schools they held dictations in order to look into the soul, in whom it believes.

One mother told about her son.

My Andryusha was studying at a seven-year school at that time, he was 12 years old. The Russian language teacher announced that there would be a dictation and read the title: “The Trial of God.”

Andryusha put down his pen and pushed away his notebook. The teacher saw and asked him:

Why don't you write?

I cannot and will not write such a dictation.

But how dare you refuse! Sit down and write!

I won't.

I'll take you to the director!

Exclude me as you wish, but "The Court

over God" I will not write.

The teacher conducted the dictation and left. They call Andryusha to the director. He looks at him in surprise: an unprecedented phenomenon, a twelve-year-old boy - and so firm and unshakable. The director, apparently, still had a spark of God somewhere deep down and did not dare to make a statement about him or about me as a mother, he only said:

Well, you are brave! Go.

What could I say to my dear boy?

I hugged him and thanked him.

At one time he remembered this, and in 1933 he was sent into exile for the first time at the age of seventeen.

Nowadays, times are different: if you want to wear a cross, wear it... However, how long will these times last? Will they soon make you wrench your soul again - in whom do you believe? And again they will dictate their own.

Will we then remember the words of the Lord: “Whoever believes in Me has eternal life”?

May the Almighty strengthen you, soul,

When our time with you comes.

If only we could hear then:

Great and glorious is the Christian God. (Hieromonk Roman)

As everybody

There was a girl named Masha like everyone else. Everyone calls each other nicknames, and so does she. Everyone is arguing, including her. True, she didn’t want to say bad words: they got stuck in her throat. But if that's all, then...

He settled in the village where Mashenka, a blacksmith, lived. He had a huge black beard. So the village kids called him Beard. It would seem that there is nothing offensive in this, but every person has a name - in honor of a saint, so that he can be his protector and example.

A person is inextricably linked with a name. When one of the evil people wanted to destroy the most intimate, sacred thing in a person, then instead of a name they were given either a number or a nickname. Sometimes children foolishly do this too...

A blacksmith is walking down the street, and the kids shout: “Beard!”, stick out their tongues, and run away. Sometimes they even threw stones after him. Masha also threw, although she chose a smaller pebble, but she threw: if that’s all, then she did too.

The blacksmith was offended by such tricks of the children. He was a new man in the village, he had not yet gotten to know anyone closely, and here the children were throwing stones at his back and teasing him. Of course it's a shame. He will draw his head in, slouch and go, saddened, to his forge.

One day Masha stood absent-mindedly in the church. The meaning of the Divine Service flew past her, as if someone had covered her ears. And suddenly the Lord restored her hearing, the sacred words reached her attention: “Everyone who hates his neighbor is a murderer.”

The girl thought and got scared: “This is about me! What am I doing? Why am I sticking my tongue out at Beard, why am I throwing stones at him? Why don’t I love him? What if this happened to me?”

And she was also struck by the words of the Lord, spoken by the priest during the sermon: “I tell you that for every idle word that people say, they will give an answer on the day of judgment: for by your words you will be justified, and by your words you will be condemned.”

And Masha decided to start living in a new way. When he meets a blacksmith, he will smile, call him by his first name and patronymic, bow, and wish him health. And the blacksmith began to smile when he saw Mashenka. All the severity disappeared somewhere, he even said to Masha’s parents:

Your girl is wonderful!

The village children noticed how Maria was talking friendly to the blacksmith, and they also began to greet him. One day a whole crowd of people came to his forge. He received them kindly, showed them how it worked, and even gave them a try to everyone who wanted to try it. At parting, I treated everyone to gingerbread. That's how they became friends.

And since then Mashenka has ceased to be like everyone else; rather, everyone has become like Mashenka, as God taught her.

The poet Vladimir Soloukhin wrote:

Hello!

What special things did we say to each other?

Just "hello"

We didn’t say anything more. Why a drop of sunshine?

increased in the world? Why a little bit of happiness?

increased in the world? Why is it a little more joyful?

happened in the world?

Cry from the heart

Collection of Orthodox stories

Nadezhda Golubenkova

© Nadezhda Golubenkova, 2017

ISBN 978-5-4474-4914-8

Created in the intellectual publishing system Ridero

Preface

Children's summer camp. A pocket edition of the “Gospel” published by Gideon, distributed to everyone. It all started with him, with this little blue, inconspicuous book. Those were the bright days of a carefree, in the opinion of all adults, childhood. Or, more correctly, adolescence, because I was then eleven or twelve years old. And yet I would not say that my childhood was carefree. And in general, did it exist? For as long as I can remember, I studied, studied, studied. And in those days of my stay at the Olympus children's health camp, I spent a lot of time not playing with the guys, but reading. And I read this particular Book, which fell into my hands completely by accident, but, as I understand now, very timely.

Dedicated to all readers with Christian love.

Two Nicholas

In one completely ordinary village family there were two sons, and both were called Nikolai. But not because their parents lacked imagination. It just so happened that the eldest was born on December 19 - on the winter day of memory of St. Nicholas the Wonderworker - and the youngest - on May 22, exactly on the summer feast of the saint. That’s what they were called in the family: Nikola the summer and Nikola the winter.

To the sadness of the mother, there was no peace between the brothers. Each of them, on occasion, tried to prove that Nikolai Ugodnik, especially revered by the entire Russian people, was their only saint. Over time, the parents gave up on the boys' constant quarrels.

And so, when the youngest was 11 years old and the eldest was 13, the father got a new job and the family moved to the city. Very close to their new apartment, two streets away, was the huge and majestic Church of All Saints. When their mother brought them here for the first time, the brothers were amazed at the gilded decoration and high vaults of the temple: their village church was much more modest. And how many people could fit here!

However, there were few parishioners at the temple. Soon the boys and their mother knew everyone by sight, and even became friends with some of them.

May has arrived. Smartly dressed in honor of the name day and birthday of the younger Nicholas, the brothers came to the Divine Liturgy. And what do they see? The temple is full of people! Now everyone who wanted took communion, the priest brought out a cross for kissing. Looking around his parishioners with a radiant gaze, Father Mikhail congratulated all the birthday people and ordered them to come up first. Each Nicholas was given icons of the saint and short prayers by his mothers. Our summer Nikola also went for a gift.

- Why aren’t you going? – the mother of her eldest son pushed.

“Look how many people there are,” the amazed teenager nodded at the long line, at the end of which his brother had lined up. – So there won’t be enough icons for everyone. I'll be better suited on my birthday. Do you think the priest will also give icons then?

“I have no doubt,” the woman smiled, gently patting his hair.

For more than a month, Nikola the Winter teased his younger brother, reminding him how many Nikolaevs came on his birthday.

“I suppose the saint didn’t even notice you in such a crowd,” he said in the heat of the moment, nearly bringing his brother to tears.

The seventh-grader himself was sure that there would be few people on his holiday. Perhaps even he alone will approach the priest for the icon.

His name day came unnoticed. The real December frosts were crackling outside the window. Father, as usual, went to work, and the boys and mother hurried to work. The eldest son froze at the entrance when he saw how many people were not afraid of the cold and came. Despite the fact that today was not Sunday, and indeed an ordinary working day, it was impossible to breathe in the temple: it was difficult to bow to the waist.

The service ended, but the brothers and their mother remained standing behind the crowd approaching the cross.

- Oh, why don’t you go get your icon? – a good-natured deacon, Father Andrei, approached them.

The older boy looked in confusion at the endless line, at the mothers who brought additional icons from the candle stand, and shook his head:

– And so it’s not enough, but I have an icon at home - my godparents gave it to me.

“Go, go, the priest has a very special gift for you,” the deacon winked at the birthday boy.

Timid and regretting that he had once teased his brother, Nikola the Winter pushed through the crowd to the thinning line of men. So he approached the priest and venerated the cross.

– Happy holiday, Nikolai! And I've already lost you.

And, making a sign to one of the mothers, Father Mikhail personally handed him a small icon. Looking at it, the boy looked up at the priest in confusion: on the icon was not his patron, but two saints unknown to the teenager.

- Didn’t you really recognize it? – the father was sincerely surprised. – These are the holy Equal-to-the-Apostles brothers Cyril and Methodius.

Nikolai blushed a little, but nodded.

“I wish you and your brother the same spiritual unity that existed between the saints,” Father Mikhail continued. “You are the eldest, so from now on never offend your younger brother, protect him, take care of him and, I’m sure, he will repay you with even more love.”

From then on, there were no more quarrels between the brothers.

The boy who wished to see other people's sins

In one big city there lived a family: a mother and her son Sashka. The boy's father abandoned them, and Sasha didn't even remember him. Mom always said that dad was good, but was afraid of responsibility when she told him about her pregnancy. Sasha was sure that he would never do this. But what can a boy who is only eight years old wish for the future?

Not far from their house there was a beautiful small church. It did not have a bell tower, but from the windows of Sasha’s bedroom one could see its domes. Almost every Sunday he and his mother went to this church: they lit candles for dad, confessed and received communion. There were few regular parishioners, and Sasha knew them all not only by sight, but also by name.

One day, when he and his mother were leaving the church, Baba Nyura, an old woman from the neighboring yard, came alongside them. And she told them this story:

“Annushka, you should pray at the new icon of the Savior that our priest recently brought.” Do you know what miracle happened just now? Svetlana, who couldn’t bear it, is expecting a baby. She says she prayed at the new icon, and a miracle happened. So you pray: your child is probably in trouble without a folder.

- Thank you, Baba Nyura, but we’ll do it ourselves somehow. Yes, the two of us are already used to it.

- Pray, pray. The icon is miraculous, I’m telling you for sure.

Mom just shook her head, and Sasha’s words from the old woman sunk into her soul. And so the next Sunday after the service, he approached the priest and stopped awkwardly, not knowing where to start. The priest noticed the boy and smiled warmly:

– What are you thinking about, Sasha? Or are you waiting for your mother?

The boy involuntarily looked around, glancing at his mother, who was buying candles in the church shop. Today there were more people than usual, and they did not have time to light candles before the service.

“I wanted to ask,” the boy plucked up courage and said quietly.

– I’m listening to you carefully.

– Is it true that Grandma Nyura told her mother that the new icon could work miracles?

“You can check it yourself,” the priest answered, thinking a little. - Pray. Ask the Savior for what you want more than anything else. And if your words are from the heart, He will give you what you ask.

Sasha thanked the priest for his answer and went up to the icon of the Savior. What does he want more than anything in the world? A new car? A soccer ball, like Romka’s from the next door? Or maybe just ask for a computer?

- I’m a sinner, father...

Sasha looked up from his thoughts and looked at the woman in a white headscarf, whom he had not seen in the temple before. “What does it look like, this sin?” - flashed through my head. No, he knew that fighting, disobeying his mother, and doing his homework carelessly was bad, sinful. He was told that sin is a disease, like invisible wounds on the soul. But he never had the imagination to imagine it.

- I want to see sins. “I want to see sins,” he whispered, looking at the Savior. Now he wanted this more than anything in the world.

But, alas, when the boy turned around, he did not see anything unusual in the woman talking with the priest. “Maybe it’s here, in the church, after confession, that no one has any sins left. But now we’ll go outside...” But there was nothing strange about the passersby either. “Baba Nyura is wrong, and there was no miracle,” Sasha thought annoyed.

As time went. Sasha missed services more and more often: either he would go somewhere with friends in the morning, or he would sleep off after a nightclub, or he simply didn’t want to. Mom walked alone, lit candles for both him and his father, praying that her son would come to his senses and that his “adolescent age” would end as soon as possible.

For the week of the Prodigal Son, we are publishing life stories about modern “prodigal sons” told by priests.

Return without hardship

Archpriest George of Bulgaria, rector of the church in honor of St. Nicholas (Mytishchi, Druzhba village)

I know one young man, he received a good education and learned languages. He is a beloved and respected son, for whom his parents did everything they could and everything they considered possible. He even went to church at one time and helped there.

But, as often happens, life without difficulties seems boring and uninteresting to a person, he begins to look for “difficulties” and adventures. This happened with our hero.

However, he managed to work well and bought himself an apartment. And - he moved away from his parents not only in the physical sense. He considered his parents his duty to constantly correct, teach and disagree with them on basic issues, he quarreled with them.

But internally, mentally, he felt uneasy. The human soul is designed in such a way that it feels good when a person is in spiritual balance. And spiritual balance is the result of great work and sorrow.

Our hero almost erased God from his life and began to believe that he himself was capable of building it the way he wanted. This self-confidence, thank God, did not lead to any tragedy. At one point, this man suddenly realized that internally he was completely empty.

The parents treated the situation with great patience, all this time they just prayed for their son, and now some kind of light of truth gradually begins to glow in him, he begins to come to his parents, establish relationships with them, and seek support. The next step was to move towards God.

There is no tragedy in this story, no deprivation. But she just tells us that they can be avoided, if you come to your senses in time and start moving in the opposite direction, start coming back.

Have time to return

Archpriest Konstantin Ostrovsky, rector of the Assumption Church in Krasnogorsk, dean of churches in the Krasnogorsk district

We met during communism. The husband and wife are educated, accomplished Soviet people, he is a party member, the head of a factory workshop, she also has a higher education, a high-level specialist, she worked with children. Both are very energetic and direct. When they converted to Orthodoxy, he left the CPSU and became a simple blacksmith. Hot neophytes, the children were raised decisively and uncompromisingly. The eldest, let's call him Daniel, was a common favorite of the grandmothers in the church: he always carried a prayer book, sang along with the choir, and often confessed and received communion.

The first thunder before the storm struck when Danya, at the age of fifteen, suddenly announced to his father and mother that he had joined the Komsomol. These were already the years when one could not join the Komsomol without the fear of “finding overboard the ship of life.” Dani’s act was not selfish, but conscious, although he could not explain it to his parents.

And at the age of eighteen, the “favorite of the parishioners” just as suddenly decisively declared to his parents that he would seek God on his own and “certainly not in the Church.” The father and mother were dealt a fatal blow, but they survived, did not despair, and prayed.

Daniel's search for God led him to America, where he converted to Judaism, took a break from the Christianity imposed by his mom and dad, and a few years later... he repented and returned to the Orthodox Church, but on his own. The happy parents again hugged their fellow believer - but now sincerely - their son. The family reunion took place in Paris.

But here's another story. When I served in Khabarovsk, I knew closely one elderly parishioner, Olga, who had recently but fervently turned to God. Her husband (baptized in childhood, of course) was a terrible blasphemer, a swearer and a drunkard. Olga naturally suffered from this and often poured out her grief to me.

Finally, this man became seriously ill and began to rapidly approach death. Olga became worried that he might die without repentance, and kept trying to persuade me to give my husband communion by force, since he was already in a helpless state. I, of course, refused and told her that if he himself expressed a desire, then I would immediately come to give him communion and unction.

And so the faithful wife waited for this moment - the husband wanted to repent. I came. He could no longer speak, but was conscious, nodding confessionally to all my questions. I accepted his confession, administered unction and received communion. Then Olga and I went to the kitchen to drink tea. And while we were drinking tea, the “prodigal son” who returned to the Heavenly Father completed his earthly journey.

These are the two fates of the “younger sons.” And I always find the “eldest son” in myself when I condemn my neighbors.

Hegumen of the Dokhiar monastery, Geronda Gregory (Zumis), has long been known outside the Holy Mountain. Those truly eager to hear the wise words of the elder travel from all continents to attend conversations with Geronda, where, carefully listening to the fluent speech of the translator, they listen to stories about monastic exploits, about the suffering, oppressed and lost in passions.
I would like to present to the readers several fragments from Geronda’s book “People of the Church I Have Known.” The idea for this essay grew out of such regular conversations. These are edifying stories about the feat of love, self-sacrifice, modesty and, most importantly, the desire to live according to the gospel. Geronda describes with great warmth her heroes - laymen and ascetic monks, who give us precious examples of a truly Christian life.

Contentment with little

The Apostle Paul writes about contentment with little things simply and succinctly: Having food and clothing, we will be content(1 Tim. 6:8). And the Lord tells us about the madness of the one who planned to destroy his old granaries in order to build larger ones, since his fields bore a rich harvest. Contentment with little things is a characteristic feature of monastic life from its beginning to this day. I hope that the following two Athonite stories will please the reader with the fact that this spiritual activity has not yet completely disappeared among the monks.

An old desert man, holding in his hands a glass vessel for oil with a broken spout, came to the kaliva of a monk of one of the monasteries.

Ava, give me some vegetable oil. It's been a month since it ended and the greens without oil have started to bother my stomach.

The hermit was shivering from the cold. His clothes, which had holes in them, could not protect his withered body from the strong winds that so often blew during the winter months. The hermitage monk has just received a woolen sweater in the mail. He brought it to the hermit.

Here, take this: it’s new, knitted from sheep’s wool. Put it on, otherwise you'll freeze.

He put it on, took a bottle of oil and left happy. But a few minutes later he returns, holding a sweater in his hand.

Ava, I won't need it. It's better to give it to someone who needs it more.

About twenty days later, the desert elder moved to a place of eternal rest, where he really no longer needed sweaters.

One Swiss, traveling around Mount Athos, found himself at a kaliva, which was not much different from a “bull kaliva” (that’s what a bull shed is called on the Holy Mountain). He knocked softly on the door, and a weak voice from inside invited him to come in. Entering, he saw an old man sitting on a wooden bed and fingering his rosary. The guest looked around at the poor surroundings of the kaliva and finally began to examine the old man, dressed in clothes made of coarse wool. Poor knowledge of the language prevented us from talking with him, but even without words it was clear that the elder lived in poverty and contempt from people. He did not play with divine things in order to appear important to anyone, and therefore remained unknown to anyone. The guest took fifty dollars out of his wallet to give them to the old man.

No, I won't take it. Not long ago, a man gave me twenty dollars, which will last me a long time.

Winter came, and the foreigner remembered the hermit's kaliva. He mailed him one hundred dollars for firewood and food. The elder, having received them, immediately sent them back, since someone had already sent him money. The foreigner sent them out again so that he could distribute them to the poor brethren. The elder returned them again with the request: “Give them out yourself. It won’t be good if I appear merciful at your expense.”

In the summer, the Swiss converted to Orthodoxy and was baptized, having learned from the elder that “it is more blessed to give than to receive” and “do not take even an obol without need.”

This story is like clear water in a mountain spring, the mere sight and murmur of which refreshes a person.

People who taught me to live a holy life

Since childhood, I have heard the words of St. John Climacus: “Monasticism is a constant forcing of oneself.” And my late grandmother Zakharo often repeated to me the saying: “The working day begins at night.” You will make a mistake if you put off today's work until tomorrow.

I began to marvel at the virtue of self-force and fell in love with it before I actually knew it. And to this day I want to acquire it as it suits my character like nothing else.

Once I asked Elder Amphilochius:

How is a monk different from a layman?

To this he answered me:

The monk is distinguished by constant self-forcing.

After that, he spent the whole evening telling me about the monks who labored under self-compulsion.

Sight

With nostalgia, I remember one hill that received the name Matya after one person passing through it stopped and said: “From here you can take in the whole world with one glance!”

I also often remember the great artist and restorer Anthony Glinos, who, having seen an icon of Christ painted in wax in the Sinai Monastery, marveled for a long time at the skill of the icon painter, and then, looking into His eyes, exclaimed in amazement: “You can read everything in this look!” .

More and more I am convinced of the truth of the statement that the eyes speak and express thoughts even when the lips are closed and the voice is not heard. With just one glance you can express to another person both thoughts and what is on the tongue, and even what lies deep in the heart. One humble confession will confirm the truthfulness of my words.

While waiting in the Annunciation Hospital for his turn for a procedure, one grandfather told me about the unforgettable look from his brother. A married couple lived on the small island of Sikinos. Due to poverty, their daughter was forced to marry a troglodyte. He lived alone in the caves of the island, looking after a small herd of goats and sheep. He was rarely seen at home. Each time he came so tired that when the children saw him, they hid. It was in vain that the mother told them: “Children, don’t be afraid, this is your dad.” The third birth was unsuccessful, and mother and child died. The two older boys were left orphans. On the island, one childless English couple had their own house. The children went there to get some food. One day the English said to the older boy, who seemed smarter to them: “We will take you in, but only you will have to drive your brother out of the house.”

I grabbed him by the arm, pulled him outside, threw him down the stairs and slammed the door behind him. When I let go of his hand (it was the most terrible moment in my life), he raised his eyes to me, looked into mine and seemed to say: “Who are you leaving me with?” But then I hardened my heart and thought only of my own benefit. Since then, I always see this look in front of me, I think about it constantly, and it does not leave my heart. Whenever I feel happy, he crushes my joy like a tombstone.

What was the fate of your brother?

It's hard for me to talk about this. Even the house that our mother left us was taken from us by our uncle, and my brother still lives in a cave without light or water. Only large worms keep him company during sleep and meals.

What are you saying, grandfather, are there still people who live in caves now? Can't anyone shelter him?

Now, father, I brought him to Athens and take him to doctors in order to at least a little extinguish the memory of that suffering look, but I still don’t find peace. His gaze constantly burns my heart. Listen, father, always look into a person’s eyes to see and understand everything. If he is sad, then take his sorrow away from him, and if he is happy, then cover him so that he does not lose his joy.

...and one more look

In the years when atheism began to spread in Albania, in this territory of ancient Illyricum, its cunning ruler did not want it to look like his own initiative. He organized the so-called Movement so that it would seem to everyone that godlessness comes from the people, and not from the authorities. After he intoxicated the people with the wine of renunciation of God, they, out of their blindness, themselves began to destroy all reminders of faith.

In one village, as Vasily, a resident of Northern Epirus, told me, the school was located next to the church. The teacher there was a Greek.

“He taught us all day long how much better it would be if we had no religion, no Christ, no Church. He said that church prohibitions turn our lives into torture. His words were so convincing that one day we all broke into the church, started taking down the icons and throwing them into the truck like unnecessary trash. We were so brainwashed that we didn't understand what we were doing. I myself removed the icon of Christ from the bishop’s throne and threw it into a state truck. Everything happened so quickly, as if God Himself was leaving our country. The moment I stretched out my hands to remove the icon, my eyes met the eyes of Christ. I felt reproach in His gaze, as if He was telling me: “What have I done to you that you are driving Me away?” But I thought: “Whether you like it or not, you will leave my life. The state has ordered that even the memory of You disappear in Albania.” Years passed, I started a family. When our daughter Evangelia was born, I barely looked into her eyes and said: “This look is familiar to me. Where did I see him? Where did you meet? I do not remember". Later, when it turned out that Evangelia was naturally crippled, I took her to a grandmother who treated her with herbs. And when she told me: “This is the wrath of God, she is incurable,” then I remembered the look of Christ on the icon in my rural church and since then I have not found peace. I’m ashamed to meet my daughter’s reproachful gaze; I feel like she’s telling me: “Dad, you ate sour grapes once, but the set on my teeth remains forever.”

These are the useful finds that a confessor sometimes comes across during confession.

On the scales there is desert and peace. Whose cup will outweigh

There lived a married couple in Athens: Phippas and Iota. They ate and drank from the table of the modern world, always looking at this table and never raising their eyes to the heights of heaven. They followed the motto: “If you enjoy earthly goods, then that is enough.” They believed that thoughts about the future eternal life are a consolation only for those who are deprived of pleasures in this world. They are like the bread that a hungry man, wrapped in a rough woolen blanket, dreams of on long winter nights: the cold makes him dream about what he needs.

The couple's happiness became even greater with the birth of a lovely girl, and they decided to give her everything.

The islands of the Aegean Sea are offered to wealthy Greeks as an exclusive holiday destination during the summer months. For the modern indifferent person, on any of these islands there are only beaches and entertainment centers. He doesn’t notice the way to the church, the ringing of bells before Matins and Vespers is a nuisance for him, the priest in a black greasy cassock is a stain on the tourist image of the island; It would be better if this medieval monster did not exist at all.

Summer is a time not only for tourism, but also for harvest. The Reaper gathers wheat from the mountain slopes into the granary and rejoices at the fruits of his labors. But we must not forget that there is another reaper, invisible and unexpected. He invades our lives with his sickle and reaps not only the elderly, but also the young. This sickle also ended the life of the only daughter of our heroes, and under such strange circumstances that even many years later what happened continued to disturb them. Bickering and searching for someone to blame have become common between spouses; they became superstitious and gradually began to move away from each other. They tried to get closer to the Church, but their attempts to join the Church were somehow wrong. Eventually, the wife developed an aversion to her husband. She again wanted to have a child, but not from him. She filed for divorce and kicked him out, sending him to live with his old mother. However, being left alone, she still continued to benefit from the financial support of her abandoned husband. One abbot asked her not to push her good husband into a third marriage (for Phippas it was the second marriage), because the ancients said: “The first marriage is joy, the second is indulgence, and the third is grief.”

But she, accustomed to the fulfillment of all her desires, remained adamant. The confessor tried to find at least some way out and advised her:

Don't just think about yourself, think about your husband too. Be one family, at least conditionally.

Will not work. I met one person, a devout man by the way, who I liked. Now I'm pregnant from him.

Will you marry him?

No. I wanted a child - I got it, and I’ve had enough of married life.

When Phippas heard about this, he was not angry: he continued to love her, and his concern for her did not decrease, although she had lost her way.

I feel sorry for her, father. I have to help her, because she has nothing to live on.

Five months have passed since the woman confessed her unlawful pregnancy to her confessor, with whom she has no longer communicated. Finally, she asked him to pray. He refused: “Prayer presupposes obedience.”

Then she took advantage of the mediation of her abandoned husband, but the upset abbot refused this time too.

Finally, one evening the silence was broken. The heartbroken husband announced to his confessor that their marriage had been dissolved by the court, but he was saddened not so much by this as by the condition of his ex-wife: she was admitted to the hospital, and the danger threatens not only her life, but also the life of her unborn child. He cried with grief and feared for the life of the mother and child, but he was a stranger to him. He did not feel insulted at all: honor and manhood were forgotten before the threat of death. He cried and asked for intense prayer, but the elder did not seem to hear him: at that time he judged himself, weighed himself and found him worthless. The scales on which the divorced husband was tipped. And the old man, who had hitherto held these scales, threw them to the ground, ashamed and disgraced. The lips of the desert almost said: “She got what she deserved. This is a good example of God’s righteous judgment,” but they were blocked by sobs and tears of the world of kindness and spiritual superiority. Here it would be appropriate to recall Sister Eugenia, who said: “Brothers, let us first acquire the virtues of the laity, and then we will begin to acquire monastic virtues.”

After reading life stories from our subscribers, you will understand that the path to the Lord is often long and difficult, filled with hardships. The reason for this is human pride, the thought that everyone can manage their life themselves, and not trust it to the Lord. However, it also happens that a person comes to faith easily, without having time to create problems for himself.

Andrey's story

This happened to a young man named Andrei (name changed). He grew up in an Orthodox family, was baptized and worshiped God from childhood. Every Sunday he and his family went to church and even sang in the church choir. The parents could not be happier with their son, but over time, at the age when all teenagers begin to rebel, Andrei began to move away from both his earthly parents and his heavenly Father. He went to church less and less, constantly finding excuses, and when he turned twenty, he stated that Orthodoxy was imposed on him as a child without the right to choose, and now that he was older, he wanted to make this choice himself.

The young man's mother and father were shocked, but they still loved their son and did not stop praying for him. Andrey graduated from university and went to work abroad. Over the course of several years, he managed to try several different religions, and then one day he invited his parents to visit him in Canada, where he worked. At the meeting, Andrei asked them for forgiveness and said that in the end he returned to Orthodoxy, this time, as he wanted, having made this choice on his own.

Sergei's story

Of course, not all stories in life end so well. It happens that people return to God only when they are on their deathbed. This happened to Anna’s husband Sergei (names have been changed). He was baptized as a child, but he never really believed in the Lord and did not live as an Orthodox Christian should live. Anna persuaded him to get married, but otherwise he did not visit the temple, even on holidays.

And then grief overtook the family. Sergei fell ill, and, despite all the efforts of the doctors, his health rapidly deteriorated until it became clear that he did not have long to live. All this time, Anna either asked her husband for permission to bring a priest to him, or begged the priest to come and give communion to Sergei without his consent, which, of course, is completely unacceptable. She prayed fervently, and now her prayers were answered.

Already barely able to speak, Sergei asked his wife to bring a priest. At the end of the confession, he no longer spoke, but only nodded in response to the priest’s words, and yet the sacraments of confession and communion were performed. When the priest came out to tell Anna about this, Sergei quietly and peacefully gave his soul to God.

Relationships with loved ones and family values

Sometimes, in order to lead a person to faith, the Lord sends him another person. This happened to Marina and Nikolai (names have been changed). They met by chance while on vacation and continued communicating, finding out that they lived in the same city. At that time, Nikolai had just come to faith and began to know the Lord and His sacraments. Marina was an atheist and led a lifestyle that was far from Christian. She loved nightclubs and discos, bright makeup and provocative clothes. However, this did not stop her and Nikolai from truly falling in love with each other.

They dated for some time, and then Nikolai said that although he loves Marina, he does not see a future with her, because he himself is Orthodox and wants to connect his life with an Orthodox girl. At first there were a lot of insults and tears, but then Marina still agreed to go to church with Nikolai. After the liturgy, the guy introduced her to his spiritual mentor. They talked for a long time, and everything they heard impressed Marina so much that she began to change her life. She was baptized, began to dress more modestly, gradually gave up makeup, stopped going to night parties... Her friends did not understand what had happened to her, they said that she had become boring with Nikolai.

Marina’s parents didn’t understand either. Things got to the point of quarrels, she was called crazy and a sectarian. Satan often slips such temptations into people who are just starting to take the right path, wanting to return them to a life of sin. Marina accepted everything with humility, and soon she made new friends from the church parish, and her parents, seeing that their daughter was happy, humbled themselves and accepted her path. Nikolai and Marina got married and are now expecting their first child, whom, of course, they will raise according to Orthodox traditions and instill in him the love of God from an early age.

Religious fanaticism and Christian pride

Pride and vanity are sins that affect not only unbelievers, but also true Christians. Forgetting the teachings of Christ, some Orthodox Christians - both ordinary people and priests - begin to think that their faith makes them special. This is expressed in the fact that they are kind in a Christian way only to other Orthodox Christians; they consider all other people to be “second class”. This is fundamentally wrong behavior, which harms not only these people themselves, but also their non-Orthodox surroundings. Seeing such believers, people may begin to have a negative attitude towards Orthodoxy, which makes their eventual coming to faith completely impossible. A true Orthodox should find joy in helping non-believers, like the Samaritan in Christ’s parable. After all, by helping them, communicating with them, an Orthodox Christian has a chance over time to convert them to the true faith.

Excessive, radical fanaticism is no better than pride. Having reached this state, Orthodox Christians do not understand that they are becoming no better than Muslim militants who commit explosions, arson and murder in the name of faith. Christianity teaches love for everyone, especially the lost. Jesus himself communicated and shared meals with sinners and tax collectors, instead of condemning and persecuting them. “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick,” says the Gospel. It also says “judge not, lest ye be judged.” These are the principles that should guide a true Christian.

Self-education and the meaning of life

Many newly converted Orthodox Christians face condemnation from their older brothers and sisters in the faith due to the fact that, in the opinion of these elders, they are somehow not following the rules and instructions correctly, for example, not observing fasting. The inadmissibility of condemnation has already been said above, and now we will try to figure out whether something is really being done wrong.

Again, it is worth recalling that coming to faith happens differently for everyone. Some were raised in an Orthodox family from an early age, while others converted on their own after many years of living without God. Let us also remember what fasting is. Many, including Orthodox Christians, believe that fasting is a time when one cannot eat meat and a number of other foods, but this is fundamentally wrong. Fasting is a renunciation of pleasures, a vow that a Christian voluntarily accepts for a certain time. Through fasting, people challenge their passions and overcome the many temptations sent to them by Satan. Therefore, this vow will be different for each person. People who have lived in Orthodoxy for many years and have long ago conquered their many passions can give up meat during Lent. But for those who have just come to God, it will be no less, if not a greater, feat, for example, to refuse to attend parties and get-togethers with friends.