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Mitred Archpriest, Rector of the Church of St. Seraphim of Sarovsky at the Serafimovsky cemetery in St. Petersburg, a friend of His Holiness Patriarch Alexy II, he was considered one of the most authoritative pastors of St. Petersburg. The priest himself did not like being called an elder, he always answered this question - I am not an elder, I am just an experienced priest, I have lived a long life, I have seen a lot.

September ended. It was the second month of Julia's stay in St. Petersburg. One could not but like this city: amazing warmth and responsiveness of people, special St. Petersburg architecture and unusual climate, and unhurried, in comparison with the ebullient capital city, life. The work was also enjoyable. There was only one unresolved question: how to find your own, the only one among the numerous temples and monasteries?

One day Yulia had a chance to visit the largest publishing house. This was useful not only for gaining experience that everyone needs, but even more so for a beginner. On that day, an event occurred that our heroine recalls as God's guidance.

Talking to the editor-in-chief, Julia could not help but notice on one of the walls a beautiful canvas depicting the famous St. Petersburg church.

“And you don’t look at the beauty and interior decoration, pay attention to the priest and the parish,” the editor advised, “and, you know, I will advise you two churches. One in Kronstadt is Vladimirsky, the rector there is Father Svyatoslav Melnik; the other is with us, in St. Petersburg, at the Serafimovsky cemetery - visit Father Vasily Ermakov.

On the next weekend, Yulia went to Kronstadt and since then has become a parishioner of the Vladimir Church.
Before the Victory Day holiday, Yulia decided to go to Serafimovskoye, especially since her niece persuaded her to go to the evening service there: it was not far to go, just a few stops from home.

The temple at the Serafimovsky cemetery looks like a fairy-tale tower or a gingerbread house, and therefore somehow childishly joyful in the soul.

From the very beginning of Vespers, Yulia drew attention to the old priest: he walked slowly with a censer, and every now and then people came up to the blessing of the father. “Well, what impatience and impatience,” Yulia thought displeasedly, “is it really impossible to wait until the end of the service, only the priest is distracted.”

The service went on as usual, but at the end of the service the old priest was nowhere to be seen.

“Aunt Yulia, I really want to see the priest again - the one who censed at the beginning of the service,” said Yulin’s niece Ksenia.

When asked how to find such and such a priest, a friendly woman in candle shop smiled:

- So this is our dear father, miter archpriest Vasily Ermakov. Perhaps he is in the administrative building - a small house not far from the church, unless, of course, the priest has left: he rarely attends the service now, he, our dear, is often sick.

Julia noticed that this church has a particularly friendly and even some kind of homely atmosphere.

About twenty people were already standing in front of the administrative building: they were waiting for Father Vasily, no one was in a hurry, someone was talking to each other. So fifteen minutes passed. “Time goes by, why is everyone just standing there? Let me go to that person. He appears to be a security guard. By the way, why is there a guard here? From whom to protect?” Yulia began to get angry.

- Please tell Father Vasily that he is expected here.

- He knows.

“Yes, don’t worry, father will come out,” the man in military uniform, who introduced himself as Igor, smiled. He told Yulia that Father Vasily had been obedient to eldership for about 50 years, that in his, Igor's, life, the elder had helped resolve many problems.

“Aunt Yulia, if the priest is not here in ten minutes, we are leaving,” Ksyusha said. Julia herself began to shiver from the cold Petersburg wind that had flown in.

Exactly nine minutes later, Father Vasily came out onto the porch. The eighty-year-old priest was supported by the elbows. The waiting people with joyful exclamations moved to their beloved shepherd. Julia also came under the blessing.

- Come home! - these words of Father Vasily were said only to Yulia.

Batiushka continued to communicate with those who came up.

- Aunt Yulia, what does it mean: will you come home? Xenia asked.

“Indeed, we must ask Father Vasily,” Yulia thought, and again went up to the priest. He was about to get into the car, the driver opened the door to help seat the priest.

- Father Vasily, when can I talk to you?

“I’ll be at the church tomorrow morning at five o’clock.

In the minibus, Yulia and Ksenia rode in silence, each thinking of her own.

The next day, the ninth of May, Julia got up at dawn. In the temple, despite the day off and early time, was the people. The liturgy was celebrated solemnly, followed by a memorial service - Father Vasily was not there. In a few minutes, the late liturgy will begin. So many people came to the second service that the temple was cramped. Mitred archpriest Vasily Ermakov served.

“That service is over, now I’ll go to Father Vasily,” Yulia decided.

Alas, there was nothing to think about approaching the priest: he was completely surrounded by people. Father Vasily went out for a while, and then returned to the church again. There was no way to talk to him.

Yulia was seized with anxiety and confusion: “Maybe I don’t need to meet with the priest, is it not God’s will?” she thought, and at that time she noticed that the crowd in front of the entrance to the temple had disappeared somewhere. Yulia approached one of the novices with a question: “Tell me, how can I talk to Father Vasily?”

- Did you arrange a conversation with him?

– Yes, yesterday he said that he would be here from five in the morning.

- Why didn't you come to this time? Batiushka is ill, often stays in the hospital for a long time, it is now very difficult to find him in the church. Well, nothing, do not worry, pray, you will have to meet - the Lord will manage.

Indeed, the meeting took place. At the right kliros, Yulia saw Father Vasily. In the next moment, the woman was already standing nearby and was waiting for her turn to talk with the priest. She was invited out of line.

For some reason, Yulia spoke with the priest not at all about what she wanted to ask, but she heard and saw something that turned out to be much more important for her. “Come on, baby, with me,” Father Vasily called, and Yulia found herself in a small room.

Here at the table sat a middle-aged, tear-stained woman: her daughter is a drug addict. Father Vasily was able to find the right words for the grieving mother; the frustrated woman soon calmed down, and it was clear that she believed: the two of them with the priest would be together in prayer, and the daughter would definitely return to life.

Father Vasily gently, like a child, strokes the head of an adult man: a person also has pain - his wife killed the baby by having an abortion. And for this man, the priest found words of encouragement.

It was later, after rethinking a lot, that Yulia realized why Father Vasily took her everywhere with him, talking with people. Shortly before this, our heroine experienced a difficult period of betrayal; it seemed to her that few people had ever experienced something more vile than what had been done to her. Gradually, she began to withdraw, constantly felt sorry for herself, and with those around her became unfriendly, angry, callous.

Together with Father Vasily, they went out to the porch. People were waiting for the priest and immediately vying with each other began to ask questions. Almost everyone got a response right away. Yulia noticed that with most of them the priest was affectionate, smiling, but on several occasions he answered sternly, even harshly.

Julia saw these two women early in the morning before the liturgy. On the head of one of them was a scarf - nothing surprising: the street is windy and damp, but somehow it is strangely wrapped up - only the woman's eyes are visible. When Father Vasily and the accompanying crowd came up to this woman wrapped in a scarf, Yulia saw that the priest pushed her away. It looked strange and unpleasant. What does it mean? Why did Father Vasily treat her like that?

People with Father Vasily entered the refectory, and Yulia stopped, not daring to go inside. Those two women remained standing on the porch, and one of them unwound a long scarf.

“You know, my father just set my jaw,” said one of the strangers, smiling, folding her scarf. - I have a dislocation.

Yulia remembered exactly that the priest had pushed the woman away, but did not even touch her head.

For the third time, Julia met with her father Vasily before leaving. The temporary work was ending, and it was time to return to my city. Yulia really wanted to say goodbye to the priest, but on the phone they could not tell her exactly whether Father Vasily would be in the church today or not.

The woman was driving to Serafimovskoye and was worried. Tomorrow morning there is a train, will she see the priest again before leaving?

There are still a few people in the temple; Julia proceeded to the administrative building. To the people, to the people! And Father Vasily is here, but do not come up: everyone wants to talk with the priest. Time inexorably rushes forward, and now the bells have rang for vespers. Father Vasily went to the temple, the people surround him from all sides.

“No, you won’t be able to say goodbye,” Yulia was upset. Batiushka stopped, and the woman was right next to him.

- Father, how I would like to have your photograph, - joyful Yulia perked up.

“Natasha,” Father Vasily turned to one of the women standing nearby, “be kind, bring my books too.”

Returning, Natalya gave what she brought to the priest, and he handed everything over with the blessing of Yulia.

“This is for you, but here are the gifts for your parishioners,” the priest smiled. - What time are you leaving tomorrow?

- At ten in the morning, father.

Here is the last blessing, and the father's kiss. The woman was overwhelmed with feelings, she thought: if there can be such love among people, what is the love of God? ..

Life flowed in the usual direction, only now Yulia knew that there was something very close to her and spiritually native person- Elder Vasily.

An early call from a friend from St. Petersburg resonated with acute pain in my soul: today, February 3, 2007, Father Vasily left us.

Julia could not help but see her dear father.

The northern capital greeted us with cloudy weather, frost and piercing wind. A huge queue lined up at the Seraphim Church: how many people love the priest and how they will miss him! Grief unites people: all those who are nearby and standing far behind, and those who will soon go into the chapel to say goodbye to Father Vasily, during these hours have become one huge family.

They met again a few hours later - father Vasily and Yulia. Batiushka has not changed at all: the same calm and at the same time strong-willed features, the same soft hands.

It is sad that there will no longer be an elder-adviser, friend, father, but it is believed that now THERE will be a prayer book. It was not for nothing that the priest went to the Lord on the day of the celebration of the Svyatogorsk icon with the wonderful name “Joy or Consolation”. Yes, something, and Father Vasily had a gift to console.

Julia still lives in her town in Central Russia. Father Vasily Ermakov's books helped not only her; those who have never met him are now praying for the priest - he has become family and friends for them. A photograph of Father Vasily in Yulia's room is always visible - it stands on a bookshelf.

So I would like to hope that those words spoken by Father Vasily when they met will certainly come true, which means that then in eternity, father and Yulia will always be together, side by side.

I don't want to have a "My Way" memory. It's not about me. All of us, father's children, came (and more often crawled) to him, greatly wasted by life. And I was on the edge. Now I understand it better than then. But Olga Shmeleva, who by that time had been taking care of Batiushka for six years, said: "It's time to go to Father Vasily." Prior to this, mutual friends sometimes said that Olga goes to some father Vasily. It was a little strange (Olga gave a worldly impression), but it did not stick in my memory: it was too far from me.

So, mid-November 1992. Met in the subway "Chernaya Rechka". A little on the tram, a little on the cemetery, which I have never been to. A small wooden temple, so not St. Petersburg, so Russian. Joy: I recognized an icon on the pediment: 2 months before that I had been in Sergiev Posad (then still in Zagorsk) and hesitated in a church shop, not knowing how to ask for an icon ... that one ... grandfather on a pebble ... So did not decide. The icon was bought for me by a friend who dared to ask and told me: Seraphim of Sarov. Wow, Seraphim of Sarov is here too... Back then, Father Seraphim was with a bear, but 10 years later, during repairs, they changed it to the current icon. They say that that icon was not to Batiushka's heart. And I liked...

Olya and I entered the temple, there were few people, but not empty either. In the middle of the temple stands a priest with the appearance of a simple rural priest. True, I never had a single familiar priest, especially a rural one, but he seemed to me like that from fiction. And suddenly - a look... Like a laser cut the space and me. A path formed, and I went to this view. Olya introduced: this is Natasha and said a few more words. Father Vasily - I called Batyushka that for a long time - asked: what do I have? I was sick ... for a long time ... now it's bad ... She said - what poorly.

Well, what did you do?

Baptized...

Well done! And how did it happen?

Better... it seems...

Not better, but ho-ro-sho!!!

I quote a direct speech, because I remember everything as if this dialogue took place just now. Almost 20 years have passed.

He asked what was bothering him now. She cried, said, and Father is so kind, almost cheerful:

Well, it's a child's sin!

Then he spoke softly and for a long time. It seemed incomprehensible to me why he was saying this, what did I have to do with it, and the speech was not even very articulate ... Only after many years I understood the meaning of the words he said then: he saw the root of all my troubles at first sight. Then I didn’t think anything, I stood in a fog.

Many, recalling their first meeting with Batiushka, write that they then flew as if on wings. None of this happened to me. But this look... I said to myself: "If this priest believe in God, so there is a God. It's all about me." And one more thing ... Father regretted me. After the death of my mother, no one felt sorry for me.

I started going to this temple. I didn’t feel any grace, I didn’t even know what it was. I went to work - not because I wanted to, but because I could not help but go. She did not understand anything in the service, she was annoyed, she waited for the end when the “curtain would close”, but she walked stubbornly. Because there was father Vasily and he said to go. I came, undressed in the right passage (then they undressed there), took off my boots, put on slippers and stood in the corner where the icon of Blessed Xenia is now. But Batiushka... were there such times? Batiushka smiled and sang directly: "Nata-a-shenka has come!" and censed me, censed. But two months later he no longer censed separately and did not welcome - other infirm ones came, but this one is standing tightly in the corner. Then Father didn’t call me by my first name again, but only: “Well, mother, take it easy?” I was sad: around Lenochka, Vovka, Sasha, Katenka, only I was nameless. I want attention, recognition... I'm stupid, stupid. After all, as soon as he comes to the pulpit, he instantly embraced everyone, pierced everyone, grabbed everything, and prays for everyone.

Father surrounded by spiritual children

I began to get into church very slowly. As Chekhov used to say that he had been squeezing a slave out of himself all his life, so I was squeezing out the past in imperceptible drops, with the resistance of all my intellectual dissident mind. No, not me - Father's prayers, his compassion for us broken, warped, his unbending and unshakable Faith, immeasurable, the Divine power of his soul, his presence in your life, even when you are far from him, and he was near.

And I'm still churching. It seems that I came up to the first step of our Seraphim Church and I stand small, and the high step is nearby, but I can’t climb it. I've been standing for 20 years.

In the years 92-93, there was not yet such a huge number of parishioners in the temple, you could approach the Batiushka and ask, for example:

Father Vasily, I'm going to a birthday party, you see - I bought icons. What girlfriend to give?

And I must say that then only - just yet they began to sell icons in our candlestick and the first thin prayer books. Father carefully examined what I bought:

Give me a Savior.

This icon was my friend's first, it was December 92. And I learned that Christ is the Savior. Let today's young people laugh, who were brought to Batiushka 3-4 years old at the same time as I was 45 years old. My generation knew a lot, except that Christ is the Savior. So it stands before my eyes: Father is on the pulpit, and under his feet, some parishioners from 2 to 5 are crawling. And some prayer book has already fallen asleep on the steps. Happy!

My twenty-year-old nephew died in December 1992 in a car accident. I to the Father:

Father Vasily! My nephew died, unbaptized...

For the first time, suddenly:

And what do you care! It's mother's business!

I cringed all over. Now I understand, whether I was weak to beg him. Then I didn’t understand, I was scared, especially since his mother was mentally ill. True, it later turned out that Lesha was baptized, shortly before his death he was baptized.

Spring 93. Great Lent. My first post. I go to church on a weekday. The sun is shining, and there is ice on the road, I'm sliding. On the steps of the temple, Father is alone. In the sun, in a cassock, it only warms up. Can those who came later, in the late 1990s and beyond, imagine this?

Father Vasily, my friend is calling me to the Unction, but what is it?

No need... 7 priests are gathering... (began to explain a little).

But I immediately got sick of going to the Unction. Then I often heard how the Father scolded those who were rushing to the Unction for the Unction, I kept wondering, well, why are they rushing if the Father does not bless. Who better something than he understands this?

Thank you for everything!

And thank you. For obedience.

I was shocked. Moreover, twice I didn’t listen to Father: once I didn’t understand, and the second I couldn’t cope with myself. And both times I got it: my illness worsened greatly. "Worthy according to my deeds I accept!" - what else can I say. It didn't come right away.

Father comes from the altar to the chapel, a woman runs after him:

Father, should I take the pills?

Without looking back:

I'm on the side - at the same time:

Not looking:

Accept!

What pills I took, I didn’t tell Batiushka, the doctor prescribed.

Previously, after Communion, all the communicants huddled together at the pulpit and Batiushka put a bowl on each head, if not reaching out, then at least touching it a little. That happiness was when put stronger! Then it became impossible, the income increased exponentially.

Father always saw everything. Somehow, at the beginning of my churching, I came in the afternoon on weekdays to an empty temple. I'm going to light a candle for Father Seraphim. And there is nothing to light from anything - only a lamp. She clumsily lit a candle from a lamp, and then an angry granny, they say, all sorts of newcomers walk around here:

You can't light a candle from a lamp!

I recoil in fright (I was afraid of church grandmas for a long time).

She does everything right!

And these grannies are no longer there - they have gone to the Lord. Was it then possible for me to understand that they kept their faith while my generation either built communism at Komsomol construction sites, or read Kafka, depending on their interests. And the collapse of all of us overtook. Drunkenness, depression, illness, fornication, broken families, children - drug addicts. These are the beauties we, a product of the country of the Soviets, met the 90s. Thank God - I was washed ashore - to the Father. Merciful God gave me this happiness.

The second day we cry: yesterday His Holiness the Patriarch departed to the Lord - on December 5, 2008 in the morning. Here, father, your beloved friend has also left us.

He lived, like you, for 79 years, he did everything appointed by the Lord. I am sure that he will be canonized - we will not live, but if Russia and the Orthodox Church stand, then this should be. It is impossible to enumerate, not to cover, not to comprehend with the mind how much His Holiness did during those 18 years that he was the First Hierarch and throughout his entire life. Glory to Thee, Lord, that You have made me worthy to live and be a member of the Church in the time of His Holiness and Yours, Father. What mercy the Lord showed me to the most sinful little insect, unworthy even to raise its eyes to Heaven. We cry, but I rejoice in the fact that the Mother of God took your friend, Father, by the hand and said: "Hello, dear Aleshenka! Let's go to Vasya!" And She led him to Paradise Abode, where Ksenyushka, glorified by him, and Father Seraphim, whose relics were found by His Holiness, and a host of New Martyrs and Confessors of Russia, headed by the Royal Passion-bearers, are already waiting. And the parents of His Holiness, who have done so much for you, dear Father, and you, his faithful and devoted friend and colleague. I look at your photographs of 45 and the inscription: "To dear Vasya Ermakov, my best friend ...". What handsome boys, what bright faces, what a life ahead... truly to the Glory of God... hands, eye to eye and how happy! Boys met friends - and there are no 60 years of a long, such a narrow path, there are no gray hairs and sorrows - there is only joy, even some mischievous one. The soul, after all, does not grow old: "Vasenka, hello, my dear!". And yesterday you met again. and you, Father, stretched out your hands: "Alyoshenka, dear, beloved friend!" Kingdom of Heaven to you, Dear Fathers our guides, guides, comforters. Glory to you, who showed us Light, Truth and Life! Pray to God for us! Bow to you, love, inexpressible gratitude... There are no words, only tears flow and flow...

92-93 years. Vanka entered the institute, I work in the emergency room. No money, no food. They ate barley porridge and pea soup on the water. I had enough, Vanka, of course - no. I’m going to the temple, I don’t even have money for a candle. I went to the pension of my disabled daughter-in-law. But I keep the force. The clothes were still decent, and the coat was not old, and the fur hat, it still didn’t look like a beggar. It seemed to me that even some kind of elegance was present, in any case, my doctors were dressed even worse.

The service is over, we go to the Cross. I kissed and I hear, like, quiet:

"Wait". But I'm sure it's not for me. I'm leaving. Another time again: "Wait." Again I leave in full confidence that it’s not for me: there are a lot of people, but I still don’t feel like myself, I can’t even imagine that the priest is addressing me: he looks in the other direction, gives someone a cross, takes someone by the hand , says something to someone ... I obviously have nothing to do with it. This went on several times: "Wait." Somehow casually ... or am I imagining? It dawned on me to ask Olya Shmeleva: "Listen, I don't understand ... maybe it's for me?" Olya: "So we have to wait!". I stayed. The people go, go, I obediently stand, but I am perplexed. Finally, everyone is gone. Father takes my hand: "Let's go." Leads to the salt, I have never been there in my life, does not let go of my hand, holds it tightly. There are already "peoples", everyone needs to be answered, laughed at, consoled, blessed. I stand, firmly attached to the father's hand and continue to be perplexed. Suddenly I feel how with his other hand he puts something into my hand, which he holds and squeezes my fist. At first I don’t understand anything ... oh, horror ... "Father Vasily, what are you?! ...". Gently pushes me off the salt with my clenched fist. I go down stunned, unclench my fist... Money. At the time, that was a lot of money for me. I - to Olya: "Father Vasily ... for me ... money ... he confused me with someone !!! Experienced Olya:" So what? He also gives it to me when I don't have it." "Didn't you tell him anything about me?" "Yes, I didn't say anything, he knows."

After many years, I returned the debt to the father. It was no longer possible to approach him, the "peoples" firmly held the defense, I handed over the debt in an envelope with a note. Since then, money has changed many times - crises, devaluation, but then I already got on my feet (Batiushkin's prayers, of course) and put as much as I could at that time in an envelope. Most likely, this money of mine was squeezed into another fist just a few minutes after delivery to the addressee.

Winter 92-93 years. I don’t understand anything, everything is the same for me - the liturgy is over, but for some reason people are crowding around the Tenderness. I'm sitting on a bench, tired, I don't understand anything. In the hands of a note, which for some reason I did not give to the liturgy. The priest flies up, snatches out a note, I rummage in my pockets, put some last money into his hand, he puts it back into my palm and flies off to "Tenderness". Prayer begins. Prayer. Now I know that this is a prayer service, but then I did not know.

All the same my first year with Batiushka. Even then I tried to temper myself in order to get stronger and get sick less often. I went to the bath. I took off the cross, because it's hot in the steam room - and I forgot on the hook. The next day, as if scalded, in horror - to the temple.

Father! Basil! I! Cross!! Lost!!! In ba-a-a-no! ...

It goes into its deepest pocket.

Here.

Stretches out an aluminum cross. Smiling.

It's a temptation, don't be afraid.

I didn’t wear the father’s cross for long, soon Olya Shmeleva gave me a silver one. Stupid, I'm stupid, and I don't know where this father's cross went, I don't remember. After all, he was more precious than all the precious ones. If only I knew, if only I knew... But now, when the same ones, frightened by the loss of the cross, come running to my shop, and I reassure: "This is a temptation, it's not scary." And I tell my story. Now almost everyone knows or heard about Father Vasily Ermakov. A simple story, but people immediately calm down, smile, buy a cross and part. Sometimes almost friends.

But his girlfriend really wanted to get married, and her parents were for it. My mother even came to convince me. I resisted with all my might, and Vanka was not even very eager, but they had already bought him a suit for the wedding. Trouble.

I'm to the father:

Oh, not good. Not good!

And the whole conversation.

Three days later, an incident occurred, and the bride, sharply disappointed in the groom, drove him away. The groom was not killed. True, he quickly found himself a new girlfriend, whom he later married, but it was already the end of the 4th year. The suit survived until the wedding brand new: Vanka wore nothing but jeans and jackets.

I must say that the quarrel between the lovers was not worth a damn. Of course, he upset the crazy idea of ​​​​my dear Father with his prayer. I didn't understand right away either. When I started thinking a little. And it's been more than a year...

The beginning of the nineties, but in the temple the people - neither to cross themselves, nor to breathe: some kind of big holiday, winter. I stand at the lectern, squeezed from all sides. Someone feels bad, they pass holy water - a common story at our holidays. Suddenly, a figure of a girl appears in front of me no - it appears (as in Yevtushenko - “it didn’t appear, but it appeared”) - it’s not clear from where: breaking through to me was like breaking through a wall or going through a wall like an angel. He does not ask - he claims: “You are a doctor! It's bad there. Leads me through the crowd to the left door, which is always closed, but is now open, and there is some unrest in the street around the bench on which the woman lies. Thank God, she has already come to her senses, she just fainted. There were no acquaintances around, no one knew that I was a doctor. I asked the girl how she knew I was a doctor? And she: “I don’t know…” And she is six years old. Father served, he was deep in the altar, with his back to us. The whole incident was silent and imperceptible, except for the words of the girl. Maybe it was an angel? Batiushka felt that something was wrong in our crowd and prayed. And this girl led me through the crowd, like a boat on still water - without any resistance ... Angel?

A little getting used to the temple, I began to understand the main horror of my life: my Vanka is not baptized! It is useless to tell him: 18 years old, no one in the house even remembered God. In my childhood and adolescence, I re-read the entire home library, which was pretty good for those times, but by the age of 18, my interest was only in the Strugatskys, Lem and heavier science fiction to the sounds of metal rock. And it was my boy who cried at the age of 9 over the first film about Vysotsky: “Mom, I will never see him!” ... Now there was an idol Kinchev, an earring in his ear, black jeans, hiking (boots with laces almost to the knees thick soles), wild shoulder-length hair, pulled together by a pirate scarf with skulls, rudeness, well, of course, in general ... I missed Vanka with my personal problems. So what can we say about baptism, and what can we say: did she herself become better after baptism? Of course, the Lord washed my soul from the filth and stench of sins accumulated up to 42 years old, but the tidy house was empty and a lot had already accumulated in it, until I started to think at least something. In general, I didn’t become a candle that they put on a candlestick, I didn’t warm the sun, and my trips to church were regarded by Vanka, as well as by the whole environment: I hit religion - such is the fashion now. Or the "attic" went. Therefore, when Batiushka said: “Bring him in,” I just grinned in my soul and drooped, knowing that Vanka would not go at all. What I told him without any hope of success - I don’t remember, but Vanka went! Without any resistance and immediately. I even dressed well. Batiushka took Vanka by the hand, took him away from me, and for a long time they talked about something between the icons “Search for the Lost” and “Tikhvinskaya”. Father's hand lay on Vanka's shoulder. What Father was talking about, I still don’t know. I decided that if he took Vanka away, then there was nothing for me to climb. Vanka then said enthusiastically: “Well, father Vasily has strength! As I put my hand on my shoulder, I entered the floor like that! And Vanka is almost a head taller than Batiushka, and even then he was already quite broader in the shoulders.

We didn’t talk about Batyushka anymore, but he clearly made an impression on Vanya. This was expressed in the fact that Vanya soon decided to introduce his best friend Sasha. I went to confession and they followed me. This time both were in full “outfit”: headscarves with skulls, earrings in the ear, hiking, etc. But they entered the temple modestly: they stood at the candlestick, and I went to confession to the Father to the icon of St. Nicholas the Wonderworker. There were few people, it was 93-94, weekdays. From the place of confession, two expressive figures in black were clearly visible.

Father Vasily, my Vanka has come ... Batiushka, it seems, was even a little dumbfounded by such beauty:

Look... he's not ready yet...

Yes, he brought a friend - to look at you!

And ... Well, let them stand ...

But after confession, Batiushka left to serve, and his friends did not last until the end of the service. So Sashka did not meet Batiushka. But looked. During the Great Lent of 1993, Olga Bobrova, my old colleague and friend, came to see Batiushka. She was also brought by Olya Shmeleva, who needed a consultation with a dentist. I recommended Olga to her. Thus, Olya Bobrova appeared in the temple, which is now known to almost all church people in St. Petersburg, because she treats everyone's teeth.

Two Olyas decided to give me a birthday present - a pilgrimage trip to Pyukhtitsy. And in June 1993, Bobrova and I went to the monastery. There the nuns taught us how to pray that the Lord would bring Baptism - Olya's son was also unbaptized, like my Vanka. We, having returned to St. Petersburg, began to pray, as we were taught. About a year passed, and Olin's son was baptized, but mine was not.

It was the beginning of Great Lent 95, March. Once, after the Liturgy, Batiushka asked that, if there was free time on weekdays, to help clean the church so that it would shine by Easter. I then worked in the emergency room in shifts and on weekdays I could well come. She came, helped wash the lenses from the chandelier, did something else. Suddenly, Natasha the foreman comes up to me and says: “Let's go, there is a very responsible job for you.” And she instructed me to clean the baptismal font. How I tried, rubbed, scrubbed, polished. And how I loved this job! The font gradually began to shine, and by the end of the efforts it simply shone! In the middle of my labors, Father looked into the chapel. I, all smeared with paste and satisfied:

Father! And I'm cleaning the font!

BUT! Let's…

I cleaned the font for three hours, no less. Natasha praised me, I went home happy: such an honorable task was entrusted and how well it turned out! The next day I sit in a chair, read something spiritual. Immediately my Vanka is spinning, and I say:

If only you were baptized, I would at least submit notes for you in the church ... the church does not pray for the unbaptized.

OK. I'll be baptized!

For you.

I put it in an armful, and the next morning we were already in the neighboring church - Elijah the Prophet. I was afraid I wouldn't take it to Serafimovsky. Moreover, Batyushka told Olga that when her son matured, drag him to the nearest church, which she did. I did the same.

So, the Sacrament of Baptism took place. I read the Creed, there was no one else: none of the baptized and godparents knew him - a common story for the early 90s.

Archpriest Vasily Ermakov. Consecration of water.

Already on the way home, Vanka complained of chills. At home they measured the temperature: 41 degrees !!! And the silver cross that I bought him in the church just before Epiphany was jet black! Vanya had a fever for days, the next morning he got up healthy and went to the institute. I cleaned the cross, it became bright and shiny again. Batiushka called demons “these guys”. This is how the “guys” thrashed my Vanya for Baptism. And at one of my acquaintances, from Serafim, the son, also already an adult, after Baptism almost broke all the furniture. And calmed down. Soon Vanya took his friend Sasha to Epiphany, whom he took to see Father.

Since then, 17 years have passed. Unfortunately, Vanya did not go to church. He reads the Gospel, got married (in his second marriage), baptized his three sons. He enters the temple to light candles. Of course, I would like the son to come, the son to come to God safe, and not, like me, crawled on his stomach. But the Lord knows better which way to lead sinners, and how to admonish such worthless mothers as I am. Worthy according to our deeds is acceptable, remember us, Lord, in Your Kingdom!

And Father Vanya had only one more time. He separated from his first wife. I told Father:

Vanya's wife left...

And what, offended, or what?

Yes, he wants to live separately, but she wants only with her mother ...

Well, let him live with his mother!

And Vanka?

And let him live with you. Like this. I must say that when Vanka was about to enter into his first marriage, I said to Batiushka:

Vanka was going to get married ...

Where will they get married?

Yes, they will not get married, there is an unbelieving family.

BUT! Well let them live...

Lived. 4 years with breaks. But when the final break happened, Vanya went to the priest. Voluntarily, but with me. Already in normal clothes, an adult, intelligent-looking young man with glasses. Hiking, earrings and other attributes of youth were forgotten. Vanya worked in a large company and even went to the bosses, but he looked depressed - not sweet when the family fell apart. This time Father didn’t take him anywhere, and he didn’t send me away. But Father spoke not at all on the topic that worried Vanya. Father said:

You, Vanya, take care of your mother. You read all the books, books, something like that ... You take care of your mother (I never told Batushka that Vanka is a drunken reader.) And not a word about divorce, not a word about his wife. At that time, our relations with Vanya began to deteriorate, but then it was still not clear to me: all the big problems were yet to come. Father, as always, saw everything ahead.

Three years later, Vanya married again. They got married, and I boasted to Batiushka. It was on the path from the kitchen to the temple, where we are in recent times captured Father. And Batyushka waved his hand and pointed to the little unfortunate appearance of our parishioner, who, it seems, was just complaining about his family life:

Ah... Wow, he got married too!

When my new daughter-in-law was about to give birth, I went to Batiushka:

Father! My daughter-in-law is giving birth, pray!

What temple does she go to?

Yes, they live in Metallostroy ... In Alexander Nevsky ...

Let them pray for her there!

Chopped off and went from the chapel to the temple.

I, a little dumbfounded, run after:

Well, then at least pray for Vanka and me...

I will pray for you! Father, dear, how we miss you!!! Pray for us!

I ran ahead, starting a story about Vanya's Baptism. Let's go back to the early 90s.

As I have already mentioned, spiritual literature had just begun to appear, more in the form of pamphlets. There was no then the famous father's dove prayer book. Olya Shmeleva gave me a thin prayer book with explanations, later I bought myself a pocket prayer book. In this prayer book there were prayers for Communion, and even then not all, but there was no complete rule. I read these prayers and went to Communion. True, she fasted - (Olya taught).

Somehow, in the right aisle, Batiushka and I were alone - those who came in the mid-late nineties probably couldn’t imagine such a picture, everyone remembers how then the aisle was bursting at the seams not figuratively, but literally. The priest asks, pointing to the middle of the chest:

Well, did it get easier?

I am unsure:

Have you prepared for Communion?

Yes, I don’t really know how to prepare ...

But Father didn’t turn me around, my stupidity was much more visible to him than to me ...

Migraines have always been a problem for me. If you do not eat in the morning, then you will definitely have a migraine. But there was always a life-saving pill at hand. However, before Communion you will not take pills. But somehow she adapted. But one day, in December 1993 (I have an associative memory - for example, I remember that then I worked in a new emergency room, in what clothes I went to church, what kind of hat I put on my sore forehead, etc. - so everyone says that I have good memory, I just calculate the time from the accompanying events and circumstances) - and so: it was in December 93 - I went to Communion and started drilling and sawing my head in the subway. There was a fear that now he would start to feel sick, then it would get worse, etc., as always, whoever suffers from migraines represents its development. In general, when I came to the temple, the picture had already unfolded in all its glory and there was only one thought - just to reach Communion. And now Father takes out the cup, the people bow to the ground, but I stand like a pillar, because I can’t even bow my head because of a terrible rush of nausea. Fear and horror. I still hear the father’s voice: “Come with the fear of God and faith!”

But I could only find the door and jumped out to the nearest tree. Indomitable vomiting and pain tearing my head did not allow me to move even farther from the temple. How I got home and the rest of the medical history is not about that. A few days later I told Batiushka about my misfortune. It was very embarrassing and scary. And Father is completely calm:

Nothing... It's from you coming out. You come to me on weekdays. The service is shorter, there are few people, and everything will be fine.

Therefore, I went to church on weekdays for a long time, and I only took communion on weekdays for several years. I used to ask on Saturday at the Vespers during the anointing:

Father, will you be on Monday?

What are you, mother, you need to live ...

Since then, I have said this when I am asked in this way about the future, even the very near future.

Vespers. Everyone is in line for the anointing. Then the line was not very thick - not that it was a stream, but a river - not a pushing crowd. But I can’t - women will understand why. I'm standing at the "Recovery of the Lost". I saw that the priest was coming, even then he didn’t anoint to the end, he passed the brush to another priest. I am towards:

Father, but with me………I can’t be anointed…

I'll help you!

He removes the oil from his forehead with his finger and smears mine with a cross.

She brought a colleague to the temple, who was always more or less ill with something. Today she has a migraine, she doesn’t want to take a pill or it didn’t help her - I don’t remember.

Father, this is Nina, her head hurts a lot ...

And here we go...

He leads us both to the salt, goes to the altar, takes out the oil, smears Nina's forehead. Nina came to our church for the first and last time, but Batiushka never refused anyone, as if it were not evening, and there was no fatigue. Always cheerful, always generous with love, everything is ready, everything is easy with him ... Father's fatigue became noticeable literally already in recent weeks his life, at least to me, which was never in close circle, or in close contact with those who were in this circle. I have always been on the periphery and the farther the more peripheral, because the parish grew exponentially and we “old ones” were wiped out by newcomers, among whom there were already many young, strong and assertive.

Not everything was as smooth as it is now. I had a break in visiting our temple - a year and a half. In a nutshell: for a long time I could not understand why Batiushka was such an opponent of the West. After all, I am from the Soviet intelligentsia, and we were all brought up on the fact that the West is freedom, which we have been deprived of all our lives. From there, literature and art and human rights, etc., etc. And religion was never oppressed there, not what we have. We were all theorists and dreamers. But here Father says something completely different. About Russia, about its greatness, about the fact that Orthodoxy is the only true religion, and collapse has come to Russia from the West and it will be even worse. It was not clear to me then, and somehow, having made up my mind, I expressed my opinion in Batushka’s ear in a nutshell about ... well, I won’t specify, it doesn’t matter to me now, and I completely agree with Batushka. Time, of course, showed who was right, but then I got:

For all to hear. And explaining why is stupid.

This happened at the wall of the temple on the left, the priest walked out of his door and headed for the platform in front of the temple. He was surrounded by a flock of aunts who did not hear my words, but they heard the “fool” and began to vote in unison, confirming the father’s opinion about me. I wouldn’t be offended by the father’s “fool”, I tried to explain something to him, but the friendly hubbub of the aunts stopped my attempts, and I went quietly forward, carefully examining the bows on my green shoes. It was June 1996. So I went away. And she left.

For a year and a half I lived without Batyushka and the Seraphim Church. The need to go to church had already formed, and I was looking for a church and a confessor. Most of all I liked the Prince Vladimir Cathedral.

I also went to the Chesme Church. Sometimes in the temple of Elijah the Prophet. But there was no composure, I missed Sundays, I went more in the evening. I left my job, retired from practicing medicine, found a very well paying job in paramedicine. She raised herself financially, bought herself clothes and other things that she could not even dream of, working in an emergency room. Vanya got married, Danka was born - my first grandson. Danka was baptized at home. The priest, who baptized Danka, looked around the apartment dejectedly, did not see a single icon (the young family lived with Natasha's parents - Vanya's wife, there were no believers there, although everyone was baptized). When it was necessary to read the "Creed", I read it. Batiushka was much surprised, but praised:

Well done, grandmother, how do you know?

Yes, I ... go to church ... I go ...

Then there was dinner, I sat with Father Nikolai and talked a little with him, asked something, said that I had stopped going to Father Vasily. Father Nikolai is a relative of my daughter-in-law, he was ordained not so long ago, from the engineering intelligentsia. He served (and still serves) in the monastery of John of Kronstadt. This was in the middle of December 1996. I have not been to Serafimovsky for half a year. Then there was another year of my wanderings around the temples, the loss of a highly paid job, an attempt to start my own business, not very successful.

Although I liked some priests, their sermons, which satisfied my intellectual searches, churches in which it was free and spacious, I did not find a place for myself anywhere. For a year and a half, I never took communion. Increasingly, I began to remember the Seraphim temple, the Father, going around it with a censer at the vigil, the icons of Father Seraphim, "Seeking the Lost." I came back. Just got to work. The father did not react at all. As if he didn't see it. I was amazed at how much the number of parishioners has increased. There was never such a density before, even on big holidays. All faces are unfamiliar. Many became young, many more men. Batiushka was already out of reach, and young guys appeared, guarding Batiushka. I felt like a complete stranger. But I already understood for sure that as long as there is Batiushka, and as long as I exist, I don’t need another church, and only Batyushkina needs prayer. It was early December 1997. I was a little like the services and decided to go to confession and take communion.

It was December 25, 1997. Early in the morning I tried to lift myself up by my hair for a long time, then I lay down again, reassuring myself that it was okay: I won’t go today, I’ll go on Sunday. And it was Friday, which means there will be a lot of people in the transport, and even to the church, how far from the Black River and, in general, then to work until late in the evening, and it’s cold outside, no, it won’t work out today, so I’ll gather my strength etc.

Got up. Went. The priest did not express in any way that he had noted my appearance, the confession was general. Communion. Oh, what a joy it was! For sure, the wings grew, and I didn’t even fly to work, but soared. She was in grace all day and flew home on the same wings at 11 pm.

The door of my apartment was broken and sealed. Still not understanding anything, she called the neighbors. Frightened neighbors said they saw my door broken and open at 12 noon. They were afraid to come in, they were afraid to see my corpse. They called the police, who found that the apartment had been robbed, sealed the door. Everything that I bought myself in a year and a half of free life in paramedicine was stolen. Even a telephone and a kettle. Thank God that there was a severe frost, and I was in a new fur coat and boots, so the Lord saved the most necessary things. The apartment was terribly cold: the balcony was wide open, through which the thieves dumped in blankets what could not be broken. Only furniture and books remained. I called Vanya, he came from Kupchino, but the police had not yet arrived, and Vanya and I were crying behind the sealed door for Kuza, my beloved cat, who did not respond to our desperate calls. We decided that the thieves had killed Kuzya, and I sent Vanya to look for the corpse under the balcony. Vanya did not find the corpse, but brought 2 heavy “crowbars” with which they broke the door and with which they probably would have broken my head if I had not gone to Communion. This is how “these guys” took revenge on me for returning to Batiushka. But I remained alive, and when the police left, and everything calmed down, a completely stunned Kuzya crawled out of some crack. And Vanka and I consoled ourselves. And junk was not particularly sorry. I bought something right away - friends helped, and then slowly got enough for life.

For some time I didn’t tell Batushka about this criminal story, something was holding me back, I understood that I got what I deserved: I left Batushka, my pride was stuck. After a while she said:

Father, while I was going to Communion, I was robbed...

Why steal - then, you already have nothing!

Yes, here ... they found what was ... He looked deep into me, even a little harshly:

Are you really stupid, or what?

Well, what's the answer, I already began to understand a little.

My “second series” began in the Seraphim Church. Batiushka became almost inaccessible. I was already standing at the “Recovery of the Lost”, sometimes I managed to sit on a bench near the hanger or cling to the eve.

There were so many unfamiliar faces that acquaintances met like blotches. I began to feel even more new than 5 years ago. The newcomers are always more lively, there were many of them, they were confident in themselves and in their right to Batiushka. Then they disappeared somewhere, others appeared, also confident and firmly stood by the pulpit. But it didn’t matter to me anymore: my searches were over, I knew for sure that as long as Batyushka was alive and as long as I was alive, there was no way to drag me away from Serafimovsky by any means. I began to understand what prayer is, and that there would be no such prayer as at Batushka’s, and where to stand, whether at the pulpit or on the street, it no longer mattered if Batushka served in the altar. Then they broadcast and it became even very good on the street.

Father surrounded by loving children

Indeed, the presence of the Father in the temple was always felt, even if he was nowhere to be seen. Vigil service was usually started by some other priest, but the presence or absence of the Father in the church, whether in the depths of the altar or in the kitchen, was almost palpable. You come to the Vespers, let's say Father Vyacheslav is serving, but you feel that Batiushka is here, and indeed, suddenly: “War-waa-ra! Or his frequent: “Come on!”, Or something else, you can’t hear anything, but Batyushkin’s voice mutters something and warms up in his soul. And another time you immediately feel that Batiushka is gone. And not because the service is worse, we have always had good services, but ...

There is no dad...

Confessions were always common now, it embarrassed me - that's because of little faith. But I almost always wrote my sins on a piece of paper and showed the Father so that he would remember that here it is, my piece of paper, it looks like this, and the Father nodded in agreement, before my sins disappeared in the common bag. But one time it was different. I desperately needed to speak out and, having written my sin on a piece of paper, I decided that it was necessary to speak out loud. Therefore, I went on a weekday, and there were very few people. I stand and think about how to put it more clearly and briefly, and so that it would not be so embarrassing. And Father immediately called me:

When did you confess?

Then something...

Why didn't you go to confession for so long?

My cat is sick...

I didn’t have time to look back, as I was already standing outside the door - Father drove out of the aisle:

They don't change God for cats!!! Go pray!!!

So she flew out with her written and unspoken sin, clenched in her fist. But I stand next to the chapel and look through the open door - maybe it will return? And from there lightning:

Don't look! Pray!!! What kind of prayer is there ... I’ll look again, and from there:

Tell her not to look! (This is for the aunt, who was at hand and for the first time, maybe she sees me).

Batiushka often called as witnesses those who were at hand, often random “visitors” in general. I remember complaining to me on the go about the reader, who was trailing behind Batiushka guiltily: “Now I’ll put him on prostrations!” And I had just started going to church, for me every reader looked like a metropolitan. So I stand and pray. Communion already, but I still haven't spoken. Batiushka left the aisle (he did not serve that day, he only confessed and talked with “peoples”). I - to him:

Father, you completely kicked me out, or? ... Eyebrows with a “house”: -

I don’t expel anyone, but vra-zoom-la-yu! But the lightning is gone, the eyes are laughing.

Father, well ... so at least bless me to go to work ... He laughed completely, hugged him tightly:

Go mother! Horses die from work, but you and I - never!

She carried away her sin in her fist. Yes, Father knew everything - all my sins: both written, and not written, and unconscious, and not yet done ...

And I’ve been thinking for a long time that maybe Father didn’t kick me out for the cat, but for this very sin he imposed a penance, or for my lack of faith - I wanted to - get it!

Usually, Father did not bless when we went on vacation, to take communion where we were going. But once my vacation coincided with the Dormition Fast and I was leaving for Gagra. I explained the situation to Father, and he said:

Go swim in the sea! There you will take communion.

When I was leaving, I took with me Batiushka’s book “In the name of the salvation of Russia”, let me think I will give it to the priest in Gagra, I will brag about what kind of Father we have, and I will do something pleasant for him. The first time I went to the Transfiguration for the Vespers. The temple in Gagra stands in a hollow, low, tiny, very poor. It is customary to light a huge number of candles there - to each saint for each family member. Despite the fact that the sun is 40 degrees, the roof is almost red hot, the fires of candles are burning, there are no windows, only a small door is open - in general, the temperature in the temple is 200 degrees Celsius, the brains boil. Evening confession is, of course, individual. Before confession, the priest gave a very long sermon, in which, among other things, he denounced the shamelessness of those who come to rest, who are lying on the beach, and even in bathing suits (!), In general, shame and idleness. But I was the only vacationer, mostly there were local grannies, from whom, of course, I was very different in skin color and dress and face with a different, probably expression. Well, as always, in the south, visitors are different from the local population. Of course, my dress is long and I have a scarf on my head, but it was a stranger and the priest drew attention to me. The turn came to confess, laid out everything, not sparing her stomach. Received penance - 40 prostrations! And with my back, even if I do 3-4, I will have to lie down for a week on painkillers and ointments. What did I say to the local priest: after all, I’m not at home, my back will jam, what will I do alone? To which the strict priest said that the monks do 500 each. I also uncertainly said that my spiritual father had specially sent me to the sea to swim, and if you can’t go to the beach, then why did I come here. Well, if so, go for a swim, but if you don’t make bows right away, then you can break it into pieces. In conclusion, I presented the priest Batyushkin with a book. He opened it, saw the photo and said:

Blessed! ... You, when you leave, I will definitely write him a letter, tell him when you go.

The next day I came to work. Of course, it's very hot, it's hard, but with God's help I didn’t melt, I didn’t faint, I took communion. Before communion, she admitted that she made only 3 prostrations, but she was allowed to do so that the remaining 37 I would finish later during the holidays. In our St. Seraphim Church, with all the people, the service ended at about 12 o’clock, well, if the prayer service is large, then by one or a half past two in a pinch. Not here - it was in Gagra. After the service, the priest left for 40 minutes, but did not bless them to leave. Everyone was left to sit on small benches. The delicious smell of fried fish wafted through the temple and the tiny courtyard. And we, the communicants, neither ate nor drank in the morning.

But all the parishioners are sitting, waiting - I am also waiting, especially since the priest has not yet given the cross. Finally, the priest came out, it was about one o'clock in the afternoon, and ... the sermon began. All of it was devoted to the TIN and passports, which should never be taken. With terrible examples, from which local parishioners screamed and groaned. I did not know what to do with my face with a "non-general expression." I did not dare to leave, it would have been a clear challenge: the priest remembered me well. Some girl squealed that her bus was leaving and there would be no other until tomorrow, but the priest reprimanded her so menacingly, and even threatened that the poor fellow was left almost in tears. How she then got through the mountains - I do not know. Only at three o'clock the sermon was over and the half-dead parishioners crawled to the Cross. It turns out that the permanent parishioners in Gagra did not change their passports and did not take the TIN. How they existed, I don't know. After all, to get to Adler, you have to cross the border - passports were checked very carefully at the border. All products were imported to Gagra from Adler - again, across the border. But I was worried about something else - and very much. I gave priest Batyushkin a book, which very clearly expresses the position of our Church in relation to the inflated problems with the TIN. And Batyushkin's sermon on this topic was there. But I promised the local priest that I would definitely pass on his letter to our Father with a review of the book. I am a mandatory person and just could not come. In general, the vacation was spoiled by doubts and bewilderment how to get out of this problem, which she herself created: I should have boasted what a wonderful spiritual father I have. But I didn’t take a blessing from my spiritual father to give him a book. It seemed to me that the Gagra priest, after reading the book, would write to my dear father, and what should I do with this letter - I can’t read it, I won’t dare to give it away either. Oh-ho-ho ... I went to the Assumption, and there soon the departure. I begged the Lord to inspire the Gagra priest to forget everything, or not to read the book, or to forget about the letter, or to forget me. Lord, let him forget everything, let him not write anything, Lord, save me from this situation, help me get out. If only he didn’t send any letters!”

Thank God! Most likely, the Gagra priest did not read the book. He only asked when I was going, and we said goodbye to him forever. No letters!!! Now I think: “My dear father, you are a seer, you knew where you blessed me!”. I also learned in practice what penance is (I never finished bowing, otherwise I would have had to take me on a cart to the plane), and in practice I learned that fussing with a TIN is not a pound of raisins, and what an extraordinary Father we have, and What an amazing temple we have. And that there is nothing to look around, but look only at the Father, do everything as he orders - there is no better place anywhere.

And now, when Father is gone, now I can’t even believe at times how happy we were, how beloved we were, Glory to Thee, Lord, for this.

It was somehow that the soul hurt for a long time and strongly. The father was away. And everything turns me on and on. I went to one temple, I wanted to talk - come on Wednesday. Otherwise, come back tomorrow. She didn’t go anywhere else, suffered, Father came, and everything worked out with his prayers. Batiushka never sent without help. He will only hear one word, take him by the hand, lead him around the temple, talking to others, comforting others, not you. Sometimes he will tell you to come to the prayer service. Once he even led me into the kitchen: -

He put it right at the entrance to the altar and says, as he used to, to the first candlestick girl that caught her eye:

Treat her!

She already sat down:

And calm down!

And went to the altar.

The girl remained in embarrassment, and I began to calm down.

Another time I began to moan that we need to talk.

Come early tomorrow before confession.

It was winter, it was hard and long to get from Rzhevka, because you had to walk to the first metro train through a snowy field. It was necessary to leave an hour before the train, i.e. at 4-45. Even when you feel good, it was difficult, but when longing and legs do not hold ... But what to do. Has arrived. Sat in a corner in the aisle. Father confesses. And me, like no. Only occasionally approach, and again left. Sitting. Everyone cares, but not me. I look at the chandelier and delve into black thoughts.

So she sat until “Our Father”, and after “Our Father”, Batushka, as you know, does not confess. He took the Cross, the Gospel, well, everything - he leaves. We talked… He turns around, comes close to me and sternly, almost harshly:

Think!! And pray!

And he went out of the aisle. I follow:

Father... I pray...

And then it became clear in my head that I didn’t pray at all. And the brains fell into place.

By the way, about brains. It was in the year 94 and I should have written earlier, but I remembered only now. There was still very little spiritual literature then. I got to read Father John Krestyankin's book “The Experience of Building a Confession” after it had probably been in hundreds of hands and was falling apart into worn-out leaves. I read it in one evening, I was utterly horrified by the fact that there is no sinless place in me. What seemed to be the norm of life turned out to be a mortal sin, and what seemed to be a virtue was exactly the opposite. The next day I rushed to Batiushka in complete horror, the hair on my head stood on end. Father even seemed to be frightened:

Mother, what are you?

I-a ... read-ta-la-a ... Peasant-a!

Ah! What did you think? Eyes wow!! (showed his hands wide vertically), brains in-oh!! (spread his arms to the full length horizontally).

But he allowed me to take Communion. As today I remember how, stunned, in a woolen scarf on my head (I forgot a thin scarf at home, it was not before), I fell away from Batiushka and for a long time came to my senses from the horror experienced on the one hand and from relief that sins were forgiven.

Of course, intellectual brains, which I proudly considered to be my property, as well as wit, and criticality, and mockery, were one of my main troubles in life. Because of them, I collapsed so deeply that only with the help of Father and his prayers, literally breaking off my nails until they bleed, I crawled out for so many years and still crawl out of this hole.

Alla Ivanovna, an old parishioner of the parishioner, died. I wasn't very close to her, but I knew her well. She was ill for a long time, but she never lost heart, and I still managed to calm her down with medical noodles, which I successfully hung on her ears. Alla Ivanovna was a very pure and trusting person and willingly believed, more, of course, due to her easy optimistic nature than my virtuoso lies, but she listened to me with interest. And yet the disease still won.

We stand at the funeral service around the coffin, Father says to me:

She is already well, and you are still somersaulting!

Let's roll, Father. Without you, how difficult it is to tumble! Pray for us!

In 2000 I spent my vacation in Pushkinskie Gory. And everything was so successful that the fullness of this vacation accompanied me the whole next year. Moreover, it was decorated with correspondence with G.N. Vasilevich - the director of the Reserve. He is a very talented person, he sent me books, booklets, accompanying them with funny poems of his own composition and serious reprimands about my amateurish criticism of what I did not like in the new approach to understanding the essence of the Pushkin Museum. I kept remembering S.S. Geychenko, and Georgy Nikolaevich tried to convince me that in new times - new approaches, etc., devoted to development plans, in general, appreciated my indifference and sincere interest and was very condescending and friendly, invited me to come. And in the summer of 2001, I planned a vacation only in Pushkinskie Gory. Once, after confession, I had no doubts about anything, even somehow formally asked the father's blessing for this trip. But Father was silent. I waited a little, thinking that he had not heard, asked again. He somehow interrupted me, which seems out of place to ask now. I waited, asked again - Batiushka, as if he did not hear, passed by.

I didn’t even realize that Father hadn’t blessed yet, so I had to wait. I decided that the trip was not far off, I already had a ticket, my soul was torn to the Pushkin Mountains. I went.

What a vacation it was! Firstly, there was no place in the hotel (despite the fact that last year it was half-empty). I had to stop in the village in some kind of shed, in which there was not even a window. Secondly. crazy heat began, the roof of the shed was heated, and it was 40 degrees in it, a little less at night. Due to the heat, there were so many horseflies that even at 12 o'clock in the morning it was impossible to undress in order to plunge into Soroti. Walking around the reserve because of these horseflies was also unbearable. The funny thing is that Georgy Nikolaevich, whom I really wanted to see, urgently left for St. Petersburg on the morning of the day in the evening of which I arrived. They said 7-10 days. He returned sick from St. Petersburg and was on sick leave until the end of my vacation. Naturally, I didn’t have the impudence to trudge on a visit to a sick person, a person I knew only by correspondence. The guide, with whom we had a wonderful relationship last year, this year met me like a stranger. But I did not despair to the end, because a friend and her husband were supposed to arrive by car, and I hoped that at least we would travel around the neighborhood. I waited for them for 10 days - on the eve of their arrival I called - they said they would not come.

I decided to leave - there were no tickets. The funny thing is that there were no remedies for horseflies in the pharmacy, I had to either sit out in a red-hot shed or endure their attacks. And then I got sick and stayed sick until the very departure. Barely took her legs. So I went on vacation without the father's blessing. And although later we met with Georgy Nikolaevich in St. Petersburg, and he invited me to come repeatedly, so that I would live in a guest house with all the amenities, but I remembered three weeks of torment, and I no longer wanted anything. And then the correspondence came to naught. It's a pity.

After this vacation, I took Batiushka's blessing for every step.

And he never refused. There was even such a case: I ask for a blessing to work in an Orthodox shop - I have already retired.

Let's! Then I found out how little they pay, I decided to return to the pharmacy.

Father, they pay so little...

Well, don't work for them!

Am I going back to the pharmacy?

Let's! While Batiushka was alive, I worked in a pharmacy, for another 5 years, being retired, I worked. Father left - and they “left” me.

At the end of 2005, Father visited the Holy Land for the second time in his life. Returning, he blessed everyone for the coming year to visit the land of Christ. He, together with his spiritual children in Jerusalem, created the pilgrimage center "Russia in colors" there. As the head of this center and our permanent guide Pavel told me later, Father came up with the name. “Russia in colors”, precisely in colors, because during the years of Soviet power abroad they got used to considering Russia as something gray-pale, like an old colorless photograph.

Having never, even in my best years, any savings, I immediately, as Batiushka blessed, therefore, having no hesitation in success, signed up for the trip first and quickly convinced my friend. Already in March 2006 we visited the Holy Land. I will not talk about the shock of this pilgrimage, because whoever has been there knows himself, and who has not yet been there must go himself. I will only say that when we landed in Tel Aviv, I could not compare that I was - and suddenly - here? How could this happen? When we landed in St. Petersburg, I realized at the airport that I would be back, and very soon, otherwise I simply would not be able to live. After all, I was so shocked that tears were flowing all the time and such a huge shock mixed everything in my head, and it was beyond my power to endure the fact that I could not put everything in its place. And what? In November I again flew to the Holy Land. If someone had told me at least a year before that I would not only visit the Holy Land, but even twice a year, I would have considered it just a tactless joke. After all, in theory, there was no money for one trip. According to Batyushkin's prayers, everything was possible and not at all difficult.

During the first trip, in the Spaso-Ascension Monastery on the Mount of Olives, in the chapel of the Holy Prophet and Forerunner John, which stands at the site of the finding of the head of the Baptist of the Lord, the nun Christina, carrying out obedience in this chapel, very interestingly told us the story of finding the Holy Head. During the second trip, I talked to her, asked her to tell this group as much as she told us the first time. And this time we were limited by time, because it was the end of November, and at this time of the year it gets dark early in Jerusalem, but we arrived already in the evening. Matushka Khristina told me, although not in such detail, but she told me already about herself, that she was an Arab, that she had been in the monastery for 50 years, and they took her at the age of 10. She has a magnificent Russian language, real, not Soviet, but some even Bunin. I really liked Matushka Khristina, but she probably took a liking to me, because when we had already said goodbye and were leaving the monastery, I suddenly heard: “Natasha! Natasha! I looked back and saw Mother Khristina running after us in the darkness in flowing clothes. He runs up to me and asks so simply, as if I don’t live on the other side of the Earth: “Natasha, the next time you come, bring me an icon of St. Prince Vladimir, otherwise, when I was in St. Petersburg, I bought St. Olga , but I didn’t find St. Vladimir.” I expressed doubt that I would return, but I promised to send the icon with another group. Our pilgrims, witnesses of this scene, unanimously began to convince me that I would definitely return. If Mother Christina singled me out, then it’s not just that, then I’ll be back. I sent the icon a month later. Christina called me and thanked me. She said that she hung it in the chapel of John the Baptist!!!

Sister Christina and Natalya Smirnova in the chapel of the Finding of the Head of St. John the Baptist

in the Ascension Monastery on the Mount of Olives

November 17, 2006 Pilgrimage group from St. Petersburg to Jerusalem.

It was difficult for me to even somehow link in my mind that my icon was hanging in the chapel on Mount of Olives… But, looking ahead a year and a half: everything happened as my companions convinced me: I was again in the Holy Land. I went to the chapel of John the Baptist with some trepidation… But as soon as I entered, I immediately saw my icon, which hung on the left wall… What miracles! The group was different than the last time, not from our church, so no one knew the background, and Mother Christina was not in the chapel this time. At first, I didn’t want to reveal my secret to anyone, but, naturally, I couldn’t resist, because I’m so rushing to brag, and in a whisper I told one young man that this is my icon. He, of course, in joy immediately rang everyone, ahs and respectful delights began. I was photographed against the background of the icon. And then Christina appeared, confirming this almost unbelievable story. What a miracle. It was, of course, a gift from Batiushka from THERE. He had passed away the year before. He passed away two months after I returned from my second pilgrimage to Jerusalem.

From the first trip, I brought incense to Father. During the second trip, I was looking for something to give to Batiushka, and one of our parishioners from Seraphim, who was closer to Batiushka, recommended that I bring myrrh to him: they say it is necessary at funerals and there are problems. I bought myrrh and gave it to Batiushka, telling him in complete delight that I had visited the Holy Land for the second time in a year.

Batiushka looked at me strangely and took the gift. We buried him two months later. Frankincense and myrrh ... Nothing just happens. I remember Father's last look... I remember Fr. Anatoly... Of course, I didn't know that this was the last one...

I will write about Father Anatoly separately. He served in our church for 5 years, but he was very much loved. He went with me twice to my relatives to baptize and take communion. The weak were completely, they could not be dragged to the temple, but Father Anatoly was trouble-free. The kingdom of heaven to him, at the age of 34 the Lord called him.

I was about to finish my little notes, and suddenly some more episodes came to mind.

Father passes from the prayer service past me to the pulpit. And I have such love for him that I can’t hide tenderness:

Father, beauty is ours!

Batiushka turns half-turn, makes a face, poses:

Was handsome!

Everyone knows that before Great Lent, the last time the Father took communion at the Candlemas. And I either worked, or was sick - I don’t remember, but I disobeyed. Went the next day. I got out, as was customary then at 4-45 and stomped on the first train in the subway. It was very cold and a terrible blizzard. I was wearing a long fur coat and a rather funny but warm sheepskin coat. It was funny in color - some kind of deep orange and even more style: a cap a la the 20s with bombs. But I liked her humor. I didn’t wear it to church, only to the “light”, and then according to my mood. But this time I put it on because of the cold: it could be pulled over my nose, and I had to walk in a snowstorm an hour before the metro. Well, it thawed out in the subway, but so far it has come from " old village» to the temple, again turned into a snowdrift. There were already a lot of people, somehow she dusted herself off and began to squeeze through to Batiushka, but she forgot about her hat. Those. not tied with a scarf, but just so stylish and to the Father. The father was taken aback:

And at the later time, Father Sergius confessed, Father served.

So I got to Father Sergius.

A few words about the death of Batiushka. On Thursday, February 1, 2007, they called me and said that Batiushka had lost consciousness and was hospitalized. They were told to pray. I prayed, but somehow shallowly: the fact that Batiushka would not be there did not fit in my head. Early in the morning on Saturday, February 3, Ira Savvateeva called and said that our Father was not there.

Let's go with Larisa to the temple. There was a thaw, puddles. There was already a line to the chapel, but Batiushka had not yet been brought. Sveta Belova said:

Now Father will become available to everyone ...

Then they brought Batiushka and we began to move to say goodbye. While standing in line it was somehow not even sad. There was no sense of loss. When I entered the chapel, tears began to flow here ... Batiushka's hands were as white, soft and a little plump as in life. AND WARM. The funeral was on February 5th. It was cold and it was snowing. We stood for several hours under the snow, shoulder to shoulder, and turned into some kind of snow-capped mountains. Then the Father was carried out, we walked far, I saw the coffin only periodically. Our flowers are frozen.

When they lowered Father into the grave and began to throw ice clods of earth, the snow suddenly stopped, the sun came out, and birds flew up from the trees. I remember almost nothing after Batiushka left and until the time I came to the Panteleimon Church for Father Sergius in early June, that is, 4 months after Batiushka's death. I don't remember Easter, not a single holiday. I only remember that as soon as I enter the temple, tears begin to flow.

All four months. There is no Father, there is no Father ... I don’t know what would have happened if Father Sergius had not been transferred to the Panteleimon Church. I should probably stop crying, I don't know. But all these years after the death of Batiushka, if I sometimes go into the Seraphim Church, I start to cry. Such a native temple, such beloved icons, Father Seraphim, “Search for the Lost” ... But I’m empty. But it all started here, and 15 years of my life, the most important years of my life, passed here. Maybe because they passed...

“Never return to your former places…” Father Seraphim, forgive me. You see everything.

And the last. Twice I helped clean the church for Easter. In 1995, she cleaned the font, and a day later Vanya was baptized. In 2006, she came to help, and Natasha the foreman said that I was late, so the font was already given away (after all, I remembered!). And she sent me to clean the chapel. There were already two new women working there, they still did not know anything, and Natasha asked me to try. We tried. Scraped the floor and walls. We washed all the icons, Natasha showed me how to handle the icons. The chapel gleamed. A few months later, our Father was lying in it. Usually the chapel was closed. Undoubtedly, before they brought Batiushka, they cleaned it up. But of course, since they didn’t scrape before Easter. Then I cleaned out the font for Vanya, now I have scraped out the chapel for Batiushka. I brought incense and myrrh to Batiushka...

It just doesn't happen. Everything is wonderfully woven, the Providence of God is everywhere.

Now Father is available to everyone. I don't visit him often. Sometimes the Belovs will be taken away after the service. Sometimes we go to a memorial service with Father Sergius. Of course, when there is some kind of trouble. But in June, on white nights, I like to come to Batiushka alone in the evening. Sometimes the cemetery is already closed, but the guard lets you in to see Batiushka. I’ll pray alone, I’ll remember, I’ll tell him everything and go, as after confession. Joy, lightness, purity. And I hear:

Well, mother? Easier?

Take it easy, Father! The Kingdom of Heaven to you, our dear!

That's what happened all about me. But otherwise I don't know how to write. On the other hand, writing narrative about the Father, what he was like, about his wonderful soul, mind, his life - can only be written by someone who was with him all the time. I was always in the crowd, in the distance, I was one of the thousands of those for whom Father lived. And I remember, of course, Father, when I had to come into contact with him, these were moments, minutes, but only I know these moments and minutes. And they are from my life, they are mine.

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February 3, 2007 at 0:25 in the 80th year of his life, the rector and chairman of the parish council of the temple died of a stroke Reverend Seraphim Sarovsky at the Serafimovsky cemetery in St. Petersburg, Archpriest Vasily Timofeevich Ermakov.

One of the heroes of our time is the mitred archpriest Vasily Ermakov, rector of the church in the name of St. Seraphim of Sarov the Wonderworker at the Seraphim Cemetery in St. Petersburg. For more than half a century, the Good Shepherd has been faithfully serving people. A lot of human suffering and grief passes through the loving heart of the Father. And to everyone who comes, he gives a piece of his love from the fullness of his Russian soul. And people feel this and are drawn here, where they will be caressed, consoled, where they will be given something that they may not have received in childhood and have been deprived of in their lives. With their problems, people go to Father Vasily from different cities of Russia, near and far abroad, and always receive help and consolation.

I was born in the city of Bolkhov, Oryol region. In my childhood memory, 25 boarded-up churches without crosses, with broken windows, were imprinted - this was the case with us, and everywhere in Russia in the pre-war, thirties. I went to school in 1933. And now you walk past these dilapidated churches, you see hooligan inscriptions on their walls, and questions arise in your head: “How is it? Well, is that how it should be?”

My first confessor and mentor was my family and my father. Starting in the 1930s, he made me pray to God by his father's authority. How I prayed, I no longer remember, but somehow in a childish way. There was no prayer book, he prayed with childish words. To my question “Why pray?” my father answered me: “Here, son, you will grow up and then you will know for yourself how necessary prayer is in life.”

Our family was pious, believing, and to me, brought up in the faith of the fathers, it seemed that the faces of the saints that still remained on the walls of the churches were looking reproachfully at me. And I asked my father questions: what will happen next? And he answered: "Son, the time will come, and God will put everything in its place."

Until the age of 14, I lived without a church, but I prayed at home, with a parental prayer: my father, mother and sisters all prayed. There were no Sundays, Saturdays then - there was a five-day week. This was especially felt when Christian holidays: we were strictly forbidden to somehow mark them, those who brought them to school Easter egg or talked about Easter, threatened with expulsion from school. I remember large posters with poems by Demyan Bedny, like: “I don’t accept the priest, get the priest out! Orthodox Church, Priest. I also remember that terrible time in February 1932, when priests were driven from our city to Oryol, to prison.

I want to return to that distant time dear to my heart, the time of my childhood in my native city of Bolkhov. This is a small town, which until 1941 largely retained the merchant's way of life. I will remember the 1930s, when dispossession took place before my very eyes, churches were closed. In my memory, they removed the bells in 1932, threw down crosses from the Resurrection Church, destroyed the church of Michael the Archangel in the cemetery. Now he is not there. In its place, an inappropriate burial of the inhabitants of Bolkhov takes place. In 1932, when the temple was closed, I was sitting on the path and saw a lorry that drove up to the temple. Our neighbor was an OGPU worker. He entered the temple with other people. Until now, the picture is clearly before my eyes, how they threw a crucifix into the car, icons of the 18th century (and maybe there were more ancient ones) and burned them all in our Bolkhovskaya bathhouse. I remember how in 1936-37 the Bolkhovians wore skullcaps and slippers made from church vestments. The vestments were richly embroidered, but they were partially destroyed, and some were used to “dress up” those who later “roamed” in them. In 1934-1936, icons from the Transfiguration Cathedral and from the ancient Trinity Church, from the surrounding monasteries were burned in the bathhouse. Churches stood with broken windows, snow flew into them, boys climbed. They pulled out the remaining icons, lamps, broke the remaining candlesticks and dragged them around the city.

On our street there lived a man who designed a pedal car from icons. I remember how the faces of icons flashed on the two front wheels, on the rear wheels - faces, a body made of icons of the 18th century. And the fate of this man was this - he went through the whole war, he married well. And somewhere in 1947 he died. We all talked about how the Lord punished him.

I remember that the river was still full-flowing, clean, and the water was healing. It is today that she went down 3 meters and is very clogged. And then I caught crayfish in it. But I hope that there is a person who will clean it up. There I caught fish with my hands - minnows and dace. I loved nature very much, I walked 8 kilometers for mushrooms. And in the monastery pond I caught carp. Now this monastery is registered in the Oryol diocese. But so far there is not a single monk there. I told them that it was necessary to adjust the dredge and clean out the pond. But they tell me that there are a lot of mines. Ming, as I remember, was not thrown there when ours retreated. Here, machine guns, machine guns, anti-tank rifles can be there, even a cannon could be thrown there.

Against the backdrop of this quiet, peaceful pre-war life in the city of Bolkhov, I want to remember my parents, who survived this difficult time of dispossession and persecution of the Church. In the summer we gathered in the yard, put a samovar on the table, drank tea and talked about all the events of that time - dispossession, under which my father's parents fell, the events of 1937, the search for "enemies of the people". Mom told me, looking at the moon: “Look, son, Cain and Abel are over there. The one standing is Cain, and the one lying down is Abel.” What she herself knew from church history, she told me.

I didn’t go outside to the guys - my father strictly forbade me to do this. When he had free time from work (he worked in a shoe factory), he took me to the forest for mushrooms. But especially he had no time to walk with me - he had a garden on his shoulders, he had to plant cucumbers, tomatoes, carrots, beets. And when onions were just beginning to break through in the spring, we ate these feathers with black bread, dipping them in salt. So in that pre-war time, I grew up on what the land gave us.

When our retreated, they burned the rich merchant houses that were occupied by Soviet institutions. Opposite the bath was a tannery - it was also burned during the retreat. This was the fulfillment of Stalin's order - "not a gram of bread, not a drop of fuel for the Germans." They also burned the library.

As a child, I loved to read. Already in the 3rd-4th grade, I was enrolled in an adult library. To get the books, I stood in line for 3 hours. I read “Robinson Crusoe”, “Count Montecristo”, Dumas, “School” by Gaidar. The library had a lot of books on how to install Soviet authority- "How the steel was tempered" and the like. But there were few classics, because many were banned.

At home we had a small farm - three goats. Our duty with the younger sister was to shepherd them. We watched them both, because goats are very cunning animals. If you turn away, you will already run into someone else's garden. After all, I was a boy - I get carried away when I catch minnows with my hands under stones, and the goat ran away again, I have to catch it. And I spent the winter like this - as soon as the ice hardens, on snow maiden skates. They are still intact for me. There were no boots, so I fastened them with ropes to felt boots. They were also blunt, not sharpened. But I loved riding them.

And I also rode “trays” (this is instead of skis). What are "trays"? These are large barrels, two meters long. They were broken, cleaned, belts were nailed to them. And what is sad, in all my life I never rode real skis.

In October 1941, the Germans came to my hometown of Bolkhov, Oryol region, and captured it with fighting. We were under occupation for many months.

What do you remember most about those days? What happened then in Bolkhov? The establishment of a new government - the election of a burgomaster, that is, some kind of authority ... We, young people from fourteen years and older, were driven by the Germans to work every day. They worked under guard. They gathered at the square at 9 o'clock in the morning. A German comes and chooses where to go: clean roads, dig trenches, fill up craters after the bombing, build a bridge, and so on. This is how they lived... I was then 15 years old.

And soon a rumor came that the people were going to open a church. But everything was lost, plundered. People began to walk around the closed temples, collect the surviving icons, took something from the museum. Some of the icons were brought to the church by the residents themselves. And on October 16, 1941, the church opened. It was a former monastery church of the 15th century in the name of Metropolitan Alexy in the convent of the Nativity of Christ. I went there for the first time in November. Priest Vasily Verevkin served. (Now the building of this church has been preserved, but there are living quarters in it).

At home, the father said: "Children, let's go to church - let's give thanks to God." I was scared and ashamed to go there. Because I felt the full power of Satanism on myself. What pressured me? As today, it puts pressure on all those who go to the temple of God for the first time. Shame. Shame. A very strong shame that pressed on my soul, on my consciousness ... And some voice whispered: “don’t go, they will laugh ... Don’t go, you weren’t taught that way ...” I went to church, looking around so that no one would see me . Go straight for a kilometer and a half was to the church. And I walked around, walked five kilometers across the river ... There were about two hundred people in the church, probably ... I defended the entire service, looked, saw people praying, but my soul was still far from feeling grace. The first time I didn't feel anything...

The next time I went to church with my parents was probably around Christmas in 1942. The year was very difficult: the front was 8 kilometers away from us. The city is full of Germans, they were expelled from Moscow... Cold... I came to church. It was the Church of the Nativity of Christ. What caught my eye was the multitude of people. But what? Small children stood with their mothers, there were almost no men. They prayed for their loved ones, for their families, for their Motherland. And the choir sunk into my soul. How they sang! With soul, soulfully. It was the language of prayer, of faith. The regent was my singing teacher, who taught me at school. Perhaps for the first time I began to feel the Grace of God.

The temple was smoky. The windows are covered with stones. There were no frames, some bricks ... Household candles ... And father Vasily serves. We were friends with families, I studied with his son at the 3rd school. This only priest who remained in the city performed divine services. And from that time, from 1942, from the Nativity of Christ, I was, as it were, born again. And he began to go weekly on Saturdays and Sundays to church ...

It was the time of the war, the time of the curfew, when we could leave the house from 7 am to 7 pm. Spring. And in winter only until 5 pm. After the appointed hour, you won’t go anywhere ... The service began at three o’clock. And I felt the necessary help of prayer, and when the Germans let us go from work at five o'clock in the evening, I ran home, quickly put on some of my clothes and ran to church and stood. My place is on the left in front Jerusalem icon Mother of God. This revered miraculous icon was found in some abandoned temple. There are a lot of people, and I gradually, gradually from week to week, from month to month got used to going to church. Father Vasily noticed me and said: “Vasek, I will take you to church.” On March 30, 1942, he led me to the altar. He showed where you can go, where you can’t go, where, what you can take, what you can’t ...

I remember Easter 1942, she was on Lydia on April 5th. There was still ice, there was no religious procession then. We prayed. There was some piece of black bread, broke the fast. And suddenly a terrible shelling began. Explosions were visible from the window, German planes were flying. Tanks... Then, two days later, our prisoners come. Exhausted.

We ask: “Well, how?” They answer: “We jumped out onto the field, the Germans crushed us with tanks.” I asked, “Well, how do the churches live there?” – “Yes, what churches, and there is no God…” But we already had a church, and people went there. The Germans did not interfere with us. I remember that they entered the temple with their hats off. We looked, did not make noise, there were no complaints ...

Father Vasily put a surplice on me, and I already began to go out in surplice ... People saw that I was holding a candle in a surplice, I took out a candle, I go to church. And then my peers, the guys with whom I studied, began to mock me. And then, in my young 15-year-old state, I had to withstand the blow of ridicule, mockery of my fragile soul. But I walked steadily, prayed, asked ...

Easter 1943 was somewhere around the end of April. Someone got in touch with the authorities, and on Easter night we were allowed to make procession, where I took part already in the surplice, as a small clergyman.

This 1943 is the turning point in the war. The front approached the city. We lived continuously under the fear of bombing. On that Easter night, our bombers were heading from Tula to Orel. The next morning we heard that 400 civilians had died.

I also remember this 1943, here, on such an event. In the summer, the miraculous Tikhvin Icon of the Mother of God was carried around our homes. How did the people receive it? It all started at 12 noon and until five. Father Vasily came, they served short prayer service, the icon was raised, we passed under it. It was a joy for the whole street, where the prayer service was performed. But there were also houses that did not accept the shrine.

But all the same, the prayer of the Russian people was imprinted in my memory. It was inspiring and supportive. It was as if the Lord was telling me: “Look, how many people are believers, and you were embarrassed. What did you think there with your little head, that faith was dead, that faith was fading away, that the Russian people were unbelievers. This faith, which was born and strengthened in me, gave me the strength to endure when a terrible time came for me.

On July 16, 1943, my sister and I were rounded up. The Germans drove us under escort to the west. We passed through villages, villages. What did I see there? Temples were opened here and there. During the German occupation, the people themselves opened churches.

In the Paldiski camp in Estonia, where we were driven on September 1, there were about a hundred thousand people. There were about ten or twenty thousand of our Orlovskys there, there were also Krasnoselsky, Peterhof, Pushkinsky, they were brought earlier. Mortality was high from starvation and disease. We knew perfectly well what awaited us, what would happen. But we were supported by the Tallinn Orthodox clergy: priests came to the camp, brought a side Throne, divine services were performed. Archpriest Michael Ridiger, the father of His Holiness Patriarch Alexy II of Moscow and All Rus', came to visit us in the camp. He served with today's Metropolitan of Tallinn and All Estonia Cornelius. I remember well how they performed liturgies in the naval club, the choir was from the camp. People took communion, there was a solemn service. And here I felt even more that not only here in the Oryol region people prayed like that. I looked and saw that all those who came from Krasnoye Selo, Pushkin, Peterhof, they all prayed, sang, and the grace of God was clearly felt. I had an icon of the Savior, it is still intact, with which my father managed to bless me and my sister Lydia. And I put it on a stone in the camp and prayed like Seraphim of Sarov. Well, how did you pray? I didn't know anything. In your own words: “Lord, help me survive in this terrible time, so that they do not steal me to Germany. To see your parents." And by the way, I lost my parents for two years. I stayed in the camp until October 1943.

Then he arrived in Bryansk, then Uneche, Kidneys, the temples were opened, which made the people very happy. Temples lived in occupation. Many of them were opened. Why? What was the reason? On September 5, 1943, having received a report from counterintelligence officers, the NKVDists Stalin ordered, in opposition to German propaganda, to open churches on the mainland. They hastily opened, but not everywhere, in some places. Not in the city, but somewhere in the cemeteries, tiny temples. So, in Kuibyshev there were two churches, in Saratov one or two small ones, in Astrakhan. The authorities heard what a spiritual upsurge Russian people find in the church and decided to show the people that we, comrade communists, are not against religion, so, look, we are also opening churches. But we know perfectly well that the priests were never released from the camps.

Many temples were opened during the occupation. And especially shone the temples that opened the Pskov Orthodox mission. It was founded in 1942 in Pskov. It included young priests from distant places who devoted themselves to the cause of enlightening the Russian people. The people treated them with surprise and distrust. People kissed the priests’ robes and hands, felt them, asked: “Father, are you real?” The temples were full. There were rumors that, they say, those priests were sent, that they serve the Germans. But nowhere have I found confirmation of these rumors.

The Pskov Orthodox mission enlightened the Russian people. Church schools were opened. There they studied the law of God, the history of the past, read books and sang Russian songs. The Germans only made sure that there was no partisanship. This great cause of spiritual enlightenment was destroyed with the advent of Soviet power in 1944. Some of the clergy went with the Germans across the cordon. The rest remained to meet the Soviet army. These martyrs for Orthodoxy were exiled to Siberia. There they died.

I found my parents only in 1945. Only now I understand the inner connection of parents and children. When I found them, I asked my mother: “How did you believe that we were not shot? That we didn't die?" "I felt in my mother's heart that you were alive." Father is a participant in the civil war, a man of strong will. Every day he walked along the road along which my sister and I were stolen. A parent is a parent, and the uncertainty about our fate undermined his strength. It burned out quickly. He died at 46.

And now, going back to the past. Now, the gray-haired old man himself, I see with my own eyes that God kept me, God supported me, God guided me, and that really and truly, without the will of God, a hair will not fall from a person’s head, I experienced this in my life.

Without personal experience, I would never talk about anything, because, as they say, I experienced the hard way, I have personal experience, how the Lord kept me for prayers and for faith. What, alas, today people do not show that people do not want to listen to us experienced people, people of that generation who survived cruel, terrible times, but remained faithful to God.

But I will continue the story. There were many temples in the territory occupied by the Germans. When the 60s came, the General Secretary of the Central Committee of the CPSU, Nikita Sergeevich Khrushchev, ordered the churches to be closed and destroyed.

We had three churches, only 2 remained. In Orel, the ancient Cathedral of the Epiphany was turned into a planetarium. And on all the vast sides of Russia, hundreds of churches began to close ... For me, the question always arose: “Why and for what? What interfered with the Church? The authorities were in a hurry to make Paradise on earth, they wanted to behead Mother Russia, make her godless, to report to the West, which even then sought to destroy it, just as today it destroys our spirituality with cunning, intricacies, all this sectarian preaching. He poisons us with chicken legs, feeds us, doesn't let us win breast medals, doesn't let us sell our iron. That's not how you talk to Russia. Russia must be loved. I think Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin and his entourage know what to do. We won't get lost. This is an admonition to the Russian people for rushing to extremes, going to sectarians, to Catholics. What I see on TV: “Look, I found something new, good. Found a new god. And God is everywhere, as they say, the same. I'm fine here." Who goes to the “White Brotherhood”, who goes to the “Church of the Sovereign Icon of the Mother of God”.

The sectarians hate Russia as a country, as a nation, as a cultured, powerful, intelligent nation. For what Russia has given to the world, I think, I believe, I know, not a single nation has given in technology, music, literature. And what Khrushchev did not finish with his team is that they are now trying to kill the soul of the Russian people. It is bitter when our people living on the territory of Russia support them... There is such a Galina Krylova, she is a lawyer in Moscow, she defends Jehovah's Witnesses, Adventists, that is, she is their lawyer. And she says that she is Orthodox, loves the church. We, unfortunately, do not have a law that protects precisely Orthodoxy, as the most main faith and not religion. Faith of Mother Russia. I always say in my sermons that if you don’t like Orthodoxy, you don’t like the Russian spirit, you don’t like churches, you don’t like icons, you listen to adventurers who come to us, who still think to teach us and stand up for so that they are given rights to Russia - here you guys are a ticket to life, to America, there are 280 million - supplement. Let us pray freely.

No one suffered as much as the great Russian people suffered. His own beaten for the idea. The destruction of Russia began in the 18th century. The very confused intelligentsia confused the Russian people - the farmers, merchants, artisans. Those pilgrims who went, having arranged their household chores, to pray to the saints of Kyiv, to Sarov to Seraphim of Sarov, to Solovki, to Valaam. It was. This was especially acutely reflected in the literature of the 19th - early 20th centuries in the work of Leonid Andreev, Leo Tolstoy and others who did not understand the people, did not understand and did not understand what was needed. Maybe there was some fault of those priests who did not fully devote themselves to the service of God and people ... I often read the memoirs of that time, I know what it was. Here I will take my city Bolkhov. Confessor St. Macarius Glukharev labored in the monastery, who translated Holy Bible from Hebrew into Russian, for the Russian people. The Supreme Synod forbade reading what he wrote. He was declared a heretic and exiled to this wilderness of Bolkhovskaya. And the people fell in love with him, they went to him. He taught how to pray, to be baptized, how to know God. He loved children. There were few such individuals. They were exiled at the time. They were harbingers of a future tragedy. They predicted a hundred years before the seventeenth year about what happened, but they were not heeded. As you say today: “Guys, don’t inject, don’t do this, don’t go there, go to church.” NOTHING…. And I see a sad future in that people do not want to return to God, do not want to understand God, do not want to realize God. In the 20th century, God still endured, but now, unfortunately, God no longer allows suffering for admonition for years, admonitions will be shorter - for months.

The wind will blow. The sun will shine, it will burn a little. Some insects, cockroaches will fly. Some rain will come. And today you already hear that you can’t pick mushrooms, you can’t eat cucumbers, cabbage, carrots, you can’t swim in the river. Yes, and the people do not have clean water to drink. And it's worth thinking about it. Why? Nothing can stop us now: neither the death of the Kursk, nor car accidents, nor drunkenness, nor drug addiction .... God always hits where you don't expect...

But people don’t want to think, they don’t want to hear…

This year marks the 10th anniversary of the death of Father Vasily Ermakov (1927-2007) and the 90th anniversary of his birth. Now those who only heard about him, but did not know him personally, often ask to tell and explain - what was so special about this priest that he is still so remembered and loved so much?

Went down from the pulpit

The future clergyman was born and spent his childhood in the small town of Bolkhov, Oryol province. Then the war, the occupation. As a teenager, Father Vasily ended up in the German Pylkyula concentration camp in Estonia. In Estonia, an important meeting for his future fate also took place - with the family of Archpriest Mikhail Ridiger and with his son Alexei, the future Patriarch Alexy II. It was he who invited Vasily to enter the recently reopened Leningrad theological schools.

On November 4, 1953, Vasily Ermakov, after graduating from the Leningrad Theological Academy, was ordained a presbyter by Metropolitan Grigory (Chukov). The first place of service of Father Vasily was the Nikolo-Bogoyavlensky Naval Cathedral - at that time one of the few functioning churches in the city.

“I moved away from the usual stereotype of a priest, went down from the pulpit to the parishioners, to people and began to ask: what need, what grief does a person have ...

And what was the time? Less than a decade has passed since the lifting of the blockade. War veterans, blockade and blockade survivors, who survived all the horrors of those years, came to the church - God saved them.

These conversations were necessary not only for them, but also for me,” Father Vasily recalled about the beginning of the ministry.

Today we are already accustomed to the fact that almost every church has a Sunday school, lecture halls, clubs of interest. But quite recently, this was impossible: the Soviet authorities allowed the activity of priests only as “executors of demands”, close contact with parishioners was, in fact, prohibited.

Link to the cemetery

Temple in the name of St. Seraphim of Sarov at the Seraphim Cemetery in St. Petersburg, where Fr. Basil. Photo from serafimovskiy.ru

Father Vasily was not afraid to endure from the authorities - and endured:

“Even at the Academy, I wrote a dissertation on the role of the Russian clergy in the liberation struggle of our people at the beginning of the 17th century against the Polish invaders. For this work, I was scourged twice in the Soviet press..”

In 1957, the father was summoned to the KGB: they offered to go to the World Festival of Youth and Students in Moscow as an informant.

“I firmly, although without challenge, refused. After that, for many years I was not included in any delegation of priests going abroad. The diocese may have included it, but it was deleted there.”

Since Father Vasily was listed as “unreliable” by the authorities, in 1976 he was transferred from St. Nicholas Cathedral to the church “Kulich and Easter”, and in 1981 he became rector of the church of Seraphim of Sarov at the Serafimovsky cemetery.

“He, a mitred archpriest, who served in St. Nicholas Cathedral for a quarter of a century, ended up in a small church at the Serafimovsky cemetery. Of course, this is not accidental, it is well known that this appointment was a link,” says Archpriest Georgy Mitrofanov, a spiritual child of Father Vasily, who served for several years as a staff priest of the Seraphim Church (now he is the rector of the Church of the Holy Apostles Peter and Paul at the Academy of Postgraduate Pedagogical Education).

And the people stretched

More and more people came to the small cemetery church. “Batiushka talked a lot with people, among whom were those who take their first steps in church life, often feel insecure in the temple,

so Father Vasily was open to communication, went forward, was ready to see and hear a person. This determined for me then the peculiarity of his ministry,” recalls Father Georgy Mitrofanov.

“The father had two main gifts - the gift of insight and the gift of bold prayer,” says the press secretary of the Valaam Monastery, Mikhail Shishkov, the spiritual child of the father. Many have experienced the power of his prayer. Such a gift of prayer is given after God has tested a person for fidelity, it is earned over the years.”

I had to experience the power of Father Vasily's prayer on myself. When big problems arose in my life, I decided to write to the priest. For a long time, going into details, it was not possible to explain something to him in the temple: people crowded around all the time. I did not abuse letters: it happened only a couple of times. And every time after a few days, when, according to my calculations, he should have read the letter, the situation, which seemed hopeless, resolved itself.

"Don't worry, mother, they'll wake up!"

Many of his spiritual children also experienced the foresight of the father. Parishioner Natalya says that her twin sons first went to church, and then, when they moved to the sixth grade, they stopped, citing fatigue and busyness:

“According to the everyday questions that arose in me, several people advised me to contact Father Vasily Ermakov,” Natalya recalls. - So I ended up in the temple of Seraphim of Sarov, as they say, “felt the difference” and began to go there constantly. However, my sons did not give in to my persuasion to go to the Liturgy in this church. I began to whine to Father Vasily:

Father, while they were little, they walked, and now they sleep ...

Don't worry, mother, wake up! he answered firmly.

However, time passed, but the situation did not change. I again began to pester the father:

Father, what to do, the children have been without Communion for a year and a half!

Don't worry, mother, wake up!

Well, when? ..

In a year! - said, as cut off, Father Vasily.

I was both delighted and slightly upset: whole year without the Protection of God, and such a dangerous age!

Six months later!

Inspired by this prospect, I continued to go to the temple alone. One Saturday evening, when I was reading the rule for Communion, one of the sons somehow hesitantly said:

And I, perhaps, go tomorrow with you? ..

Yes, it’s high time, - I answered, but I myself was in no hurry to rejoice: “You never know what he promises in the evening, but in the morning he won’t want to get up.”

But the next morning, the son easily got up for the early Liturgy and went with me to the temple. Approaching Communion, I involuntarily noted that six months had passed since my last communication with Father Vasily on this subject.

However, the other son, together with her husband, only teased us: they say, instead of sleeping off on the weekend, we go to church so early and in any weather - that's freaks!

Some time passed, and the second son suddenly announced that he would also go with us. And here we are, as before, the three of us standing in line for the Holy Chalice, and I suddenly remember that another six months have passed. The first son takes communion, the second, and then I. Right there, on the salt, stands Father Vasily (he often watched the communicants, occasionally weeding out those who strove to take communion without confession). And suddenly, unexpectedly for myself, from the maternal joy that overwhelmed me that the children returned to the temple, I rush to Father Vasily on the neck. He just smiles knowingly…”

"I'm just an experienced priest"

Batiushka's perspicacity also manifested itself in the most everyday situations.

Composer Vyacheslav Rimsha, director of the amateur choir of the Seraphim Church, recalls that in the mid-1980s, the priest blessed him to go to Optina Hermitage - the monastery was just being revived - and on the way back to Bolkhov, to his homeland.

A year later, Vyacheslav Rimsha decided to repeat the trip: “The second year, when I was going to Optina, the priest began to explain to me where the hotel was in Bolkhov. I say: “Father, I don’t need a hotel, I’ll arrive in the morning, I’ll leave in the evening!” I arrive in Bolkhov and go immediately to take a return bus ticket to Belev. And at the box office they say: “There will be no bus today, it broke!” Then I remembered that the priest told me in detail how to find a hotel. I spent the night in this hotel."

But Father Vasily did not like very much when he was called an elder, and he always said: “I am not an elder, I am just an experienced priest.”

By the way, he often repeated that the search for miracles and spirit-bearing elders is a dead end for spiritual life.

School of Practical Communication

Father Vasily had both faithful spiritual children, and like-minded people, and enthusiastic admirers - but there were many ill-wishers. He was in the full sense of the word “not a gold piece to please everyone” - and he didn’t try to please anyone: if the priest was outraged by something in a person’s behavior, he immediately spoke about it, and sometimes in very harsh terms.

In almost every sermon, Father Vasily said: “Remember that you are Russian, Orthodox,” but he did not mean ethnicity (among his spiritual children there were people of different nationalities), but that those listening to him were native speakers of the Russian language, Russian culture. He reminded people to bypass the bait of Western civilization and protect their children from this, not be captured by various sects, and finally love their homeland.

Batiushka never tired of repeating that we should not forget about recent history, about the war, about the years of persecution of the Church. It’s clear why: he didn’t know history from textbooks ...

One may get the impression that Father Vasily was always serious, but this is absolutely not the case: he was generous with jokes and jokes, often during his sermons the parishioners laughed heartily. And he was a great master to encourage a person who was bent under the weight of worries. And in general, the priest knew whom to make fun of, whom to scold in a fatherly way, and whom to seriously scold.

It is noteworthy that among the spiritual children of Father Vasily there are many people of creative professions. It began in the St. Nicholas Cathedral, where the artists of the Mariinsky, then Kirov, Theater often went.

In those years, priests often talked about the "sinfulness" of the acting profession. The father had no such prejudices.

The cleric of the Valaam metochion, Hieromonk Partheny (Shapanov), recalls that when they met, Father Vasily asked him who he was before he became a monk and priest.

He, embarrassed, said: “Well, such people used to be buried behind the fence of the cemetery ...” - “Who were you?” - repeated the father. "Actor ..." - "Remember: if it were not for the will of God, you would not have entered anywhere." Batiushka taught everyone not to bury God-given talent in the ground,” says Father Parfeniy.

Actress Nina Usatova recalls that when she complained to the priest that she had to participate in entertaining performances during fasting, he replied: “Ninushka, your work is your obedience.”

Father Vasily liked to say that the choir in his church is different from others: people understand what they are singing about, they no longer think about external beauty, but about meaning. Several choristers subsequently became clerics of the Seraphim Church, one of them is Archpriest Nikita Badmaev.

“At first I did not intend to become a priest,” he says. - And Father Vasily often took me with him - to consecrate apartments, for example. I spent a lot of time with him, I saw how he communicated with people, what he said, what moments in life he advised me to pay attention to. He did not edify, did not instruct me, he simply influenced me by a living example. Father Vasily's school is a school of practical communication. I didn’t even realize then that he was passing on his life experience to me.

Sometimes I did not understand why the priest said or acted like that. But I made it a rule not to ask: now I don’t understand - then I’ll understand. And indeed, understanding came.

“Father Vasily always spoke very simply,” recalls Nina Usatova. - Sometimes, the priest says a sermon, you stand and think: “But he is talking about me.” I once told the girls from the kliros about this, and they replied that everyone who listens to the priest has a feeling that he is talking about them - he caught some general pain, general anxiety.

“Batiushka taught me to understand him. And when he spoke from the pulpit, I understood what he wanted from me…” - Anna, one of the parishioners, confirms this idea.

Without a father

The planet in honor of the priest Vasily Ermakov - in the asteroid belt between the orbits of Mars and Jupiter - was named Vasilermakov. Photo from it.wikipedia.org

AT last years Batiushka was seriously ill during his life, at the end of 2006 - at the beginning of 2007 he fell ill. But on the day of his Angel, January 14, he served, and the parishioners had hope that he would still remain with us ... The last time Father Vasily served was on January 21, Sunday. On February 3, he reposed in the Lord.

The chapel, where the body of the priest was brought for parting, was open around the clock. On Sunday evening, the coffin was transferred to the temple. And all three days people went to the priest - laity and priests.

Since the death of the priest, many books about him have been published, including “Time Doesn’t Wait” (2013) and “Thoughts about Russia: Materials for the Spiritual Heritage of Archpriest Vasily Ermakov” (2017).

“When the father died, I bitterly regretted that I did not have time to say words of gratitude to him, although there are hardly such words in the world,” says the compiler Irina Kornilova. - I nevertheless decided to thank him and preserve what he taught us so that time would not erase either his image or his words.

This is how the books “Time Doesn’t Wait” appeared - materials for the biography of Father Vasily, and “Thoughts about Russia” - materials for his spiritual heritage. But these books are just a touch on the life and legacy of Father Vasily. I am sure that his legacy will be carefully studied, because he did not call himself a practitioner of life for nothing.

Especially important in our time is all that he said about Russia, about the lessons of our tragic history. Before meeting him, I did not like history, I considered it a set of events. And the priest gave us an understanding of the spiritual foundations of both human life and the state. Thank God that interest in his legacy is growing. Students of Moscow and St. Petersburg theological schools write works on his heritage, study his experience - I know this, because they turned to me on this issue.

All the past years, the parishioners of the Seraphim Church, before or after the service, try to come to the grave to the priest; priests, not only "Seraphim", but also from other parishes, often serve requiems there. It seems that there is no time, at least during the day, when the place of the last shelter of Father Vasily is empty.

“Batiushka fed many with himself - with his soul, with his faith ... - says Vyacheslav Rimsha. - When such personalities leave, a gap is formed, this gap is very difficult to fill, all spiritual forces are required. I happened to see many priests: I saw smart ones, I saw kind ones, but I have never seen such a priest as Batiushka.

He was not “smart” and not “kind”, it’s completely different ...

For us, life without a priest is like an exam, you have to show what you have learned.”

Going to people was his main rule. He descended from the pulpit in order to ask everyone about his needs and try to help. Being a true shepherd, he served people with his heartfelt word, which combined the demand for repentant discipline and boundless love and mercy for the suffering. Being a faithful son of his long-suffering motherland, he boldly spoke out on the most topical issues concerning her modern life and tragic history.

For a long time, Vasily Ermakov, archpriest, served as rector of the church of St. Seraphim of Sarov in St. Petersburg). He is one of the most famous Russian priests of recent decades. His authority is recognized both in the St. Petersburg diocese and far beyond its borders.

Vasily Ermakov, Archpriest: “My life was a battle…”

His life was "a battle, for real, - for God, for faith, for purity of thought and for visiting the temple of God." So the priest Vasily Ermakov defined his creed in one of his last interviews.

Thousands of people over the years, including in Soviet time, thanks to him found their way to the Church. The fame of his undoubted spiritual gifts spread far beyond the borders of Russia. People from all over the world came to him for advice and guidance.

Father Vasily provided spiritual help and support to many. He believed that everyone should “pray sincerely, with all my heart and with all my soul. Prayer attracts the Spirit, and the Spirit removes ... everything superfluous, ugly and teaches how to live and behave ... ".

Biography

Vasily Ermakov, clergyman of the Russian mitred archpriest, was born on December 20, 1927 in the city of Bolkhov and died on February 3, 2007 in St. Petersburg.

“Many,” said Vasily Ermakov (you can see his photo in the article), “believed that a priest has some kind of privilege or special grace over the laity. It’s sad that the majority of the clergy think so. that he should be a servant to everyone he meets. Throughout his life, without holidays and days off, around the clock. "

Father Vasily emphasized the high missionary meaning and the sacrificial nature of the life and work of a clergyman. “You are not in the mood - and you go and serve. Back or legs hurt - go and serve. Problems in the family, and you go and serve! This is what the Lord and the Gospel require. There is no such attitude - to live your whole life for people - do something else, do not take on the burden of Christ, ”said priest Vasily Ermakov.

Childhood and adolescence

He was born into a peasant family. His first mentor in church faith was the father. At that time (in the late 1930s) all 28 churches in his small hometown were closed. Vasily began to study at school in the 33rd year, and in the 41st he finished seven classes.

In the autumn of 1941, the city of Bolkhov was captured by the Germans. Everyone over the age of fourteen was sent to forced labor: clearing roads, digging trenches, burying craters, building a bridge.

In October 1941, a church was opened in Bolkhov, built near the former convent. In this church, for the first time, I attended a service, and from March 42, Vasily Ermakov began to go there regularly and serve at the altar. The archpriest recalled that it was a church of the 17th century, erected in the name of St. Alexy, Metropolitan of Moscow. The local priest's name was Father Vasily Verevkin.

In July 1943, Ermakov and his sister were rounded up. In September they were driven to one of the Estonian camps. Divine services were held in the camps by the Tallinn Orthodox leadership, Archpriest Michael Ridiger came here among other clergy. Between Ermakov and the archpriest, friendly relations began.

In 1943, an order was issued to release the priests and their families from the camps. Vasily Verevkin, who was sitting there, added the namesake to his family. So the young clergyman managed to leave the camp.

Until the end of the war

Together with the son of Mikhail Ridiger, Alexei, Vasily Ermakov also served as a subdeacon of Bishop Pavel of Narva. The archpriest recalled that at the same time, in order to feed himself, he was forced to work in a private factory.

In September 1944, Tallinn was liberated by Soviet troops. Vasily Timofeevich Ermakov was mobilized. Served in the headquarters of the Baltic Fleet. And he devoted his free time to the performance of the subdeacon, the bell ringer in the Alexander Nevsky Cathedral in Tallinn.

Education

When the war ended, Vasily Ermakov returned home. In 1946 he passed the exams to the theological seminary in Leningrad, which he successfully completed in 1949. The next place of his study was the theological academy (1949-1953), after graduating from which he received the degree of candidate of theology. The theme of his term paper was: "The role of the Russian clergy in the liberation struggle of the people during the Time of Troubles."

The future II also studied in the same group with Ermakov (they sat together at the same desk). The Theological Academy contributed to the final formation of views young priest and determining a firm decision to devote his life to the service of God and people.

spiritual activity

At the end of his studies at the academy, Vasily Ermakov gets married. His chosen one was Lyudmila Aleksandrovna Nikiforova.

In November 1953, the young priest was ordained a deacon by Bishop Roman of Tallinn and Estonia. In the same month, he was ordained a priest and appointed cleric of the Nikolo-Bogoyavlensky Cathedral.

Nikolsky Cathedral left a big memory mark in the mind of the priest. His parishioners were famous artists of the Mariinsky Theater: the singer Preobrazhenskaya, the choreographer Sergeev. The great Anna Akhmatova was buried in this cathedral. Father Vasily confessed to parishioners who visited St. Nicholas Cathedral from the late 1920s and 1930s.

Holy Trinity Church

In 1976, the clergyman was transferred to the Holy Trinity Church "Kulich and Easter". The temple was reopened immediately after the end of the war, in the 46th, and remained one of the few operating in the city. Most Leningraders had some dear memories associated with this temple.

Its architecture is unusual: the church "Kulich and Easter" (temple and bell tower) even in the most frosty winter or dank autumn slush with its shape reminds of spring, Easter, of awakening to life.

Vasily Ermakov served here until 1981.

Last place of pastoral service

Since 1981, Father Vasily was transferred to the Church of St. Seraphim of Sarov, located at the Seraphim Cemetery. It became the last place of pastoral ministry of the famous priest.

Here the mitred archpriest (that is, the archpriest who was awarded the right to wear a miter) Vasily Ermakov served as rector for more than 20 years. For him, a lofty example, a model of devoted service to one's neighbor, was Sarov, in whose honor the temple was built.

Father before last days spent all his time here, from early liturgies until late in the evening.

On January 15, 2007, on the day of St. Seraphim of Sarov, the priest delivered a farewell sermon dedicated to the saint before his flock. And on January 28, Father Vasily held the last service.

spiritual center

The small wooden church of St. Seraphim of Sarov, where a beloved pastor served, was the first Russian church built in honor of the saint. It was famous for the fact that during its hundred-year history it has always had the most numerous parish.

During the service there of Vasily Ermakov, one of the most famous and revered Russian priests, this place became a real spiritual center, where believers from all over the vast country sought advice and consolation. About one and a half to two thousand people received communion here on holidays.

Far beyond the temple, the fame of inexhaustible spiritual power and vital energy, which Father Vasily Ermakov shared with the parishioners until the end of his days, whose photo is provided for your attention in the article.

In one of his interviews, the priest spoke about the period of the Soviet history of the great temple. Since the 1950s, it has been a place of exile, where clergy who were objectionable to the authorities were sent - a kind of "spiritual prison".

A former partisan served as headman here, maintaining certain relations with the Commissioner for Religious Affairs G. S. Zharinov. As a result of "cooperation" with the authorities of the headman of the church, the fate of many priests was broken, who received a ban on holding services and were forever deprived of the opportunity to receive a parish.

Having come here in 1981, Father Vasily found the spirit of dictatorship and fear in the church. The parishioners scribbled denunciations against each other, addressed to the Metropolitan and the Commissioner. The church was in complete disarray and disorder.

The priest asked the headman only for candles, prosphora and wine, saying that the rest did not concern him. He delivered his sermons, calling to faith, to prayer and to the temple of God. And at first some of them were met with hostility. Constantly the headman saw them as anti-Soviet, warning about the dissatisfaction of the commissioner.

But gradually people began to come to the church, for whom it was important that here, at the very peak of the Soviet stagnation (early and mid-80s), one could fearlessly talk with a priest, get advice, receive spiritual support and answers to all vital questions of interest.

Sermons

In one of his last interviews, the clergyman said: "I have been bringing spiritual joy for 60 years." And it's true - many people needed him as a comforter and intercessor for their neighbors before God.

The sermons of Vasily Ermakov have always been artless, direct, coming from life and its pressing troubles and reaching the very heart of a person, helping to get rid of sin. “The Church Calls”, “Follow Christ, Orthodox!”, “On the Duties of a Man”, “On Crime and Mercy”, “On Healing”, “Russian People”, “Sorrow and Glory of Russia” - this is not the whole list.

"The worst sinner is better than you..."

He always said that it is very bad when a Christian in his heart exalts himself above others, considers himself better, smarter, more righteous. The secret of salvation, interpreted the archpriest, is to consider yourself unworthy and worse than any creature. The presence of the Holy Spirit in a person helps him to understand his smallness and ugliness, to see that a “fierce sinner” is better than himself. If a person put himself above others, this is a sign - there is no Spirit in him, he still needs to work on himself.

But self-abasement, Father Vasily explained, is also a bad trait. The Christian is supposed to go through life with self-respect, for he is the receptacle of the Holy Spirit. If a person grovels before others, he is not worthy to become a temple where the Spirit of God dwells...

“Pain, if strong, then short ...”

Christians must pray sincerely, with all their hearts and souls. Prayer attracts the Spirit, which will help a person get rid of sins and guide him on the righteous path. Sometimes it seems to a person that he is the most unfortunate on earth, poor, sick, no one loves him, he is unlucky everywhere, the whole world is up in arms against him. But often, as Vasily Ermakov said, these misfortunes and troubles turn out to be exaggerated. Truly sick and unfortunate people do not show their illnesses, do not groan, but silently carry their cross to the end. Not they, but people seek solace from them.

People complain because they definitely want to be happy and content here in this world. They have no faith in eternal life, they do not believe that there is eternal bliss, they want to enjoy happiness here. And if they encounter interference, they shout that they feel bad and even worse than everyone else.

This, the priest taught, is the wrong attitude. A Christian must be able to take a different look at his sufferings and misfortunes. Although it is difficult, he needs to love his pain. It is impossible to seek contentment in this world, the priest preached. “Wish for the Kingdom of Heaven,” he said, “most of all, and then you will taste the light ...” Earthly life lasts one moment, and the Kingdom of God is “endless ages.” You have to endure a little here, and then you will taste eternal joy there. “Pain, if strong, then short,” Father Vasily taught the parishioners, “and if long, then one that can be endured ...”.

“To preserve Russian spiritual traditions…”

Each sermon of Archpriest Vasily was imbued with true patriotism, concern for the revival and preservation of domestic spiritual foundations.

A great misfortune in the difficult times that Russia is going through, Father Vasily considered the activities of the so-called “young saints”, who treat the service formally, do not delve into the problems of people, which push them away from the church.

The Russian Church has traditionally treated the sacraments subtly, attaching great importance to the fact that a person perceives their meaning with all his heart and soul. And now, the priest lamented, everyone “crushed” the money.

A clergyman, first of all, needs to heed the voice of conscience, obey the primates, bishops, by his own example teach the parishioners the faith and fear of God. This is the only way to maintain the ancient Russian spiritual traditions, to continue the difficult battle for the soul of a Russian person.

For his service worthy of all respect, Vasily Timofeevich was awarded:

• in 1978 - with a miter;
• in 1991 received the right to serve the Divine Liturgy;
• on his 60th birthday (1997), Father Vasily was awarded the Order of the Holy Right-Believing Prince Daniel of Moscow;
• in 2004, in honor of the 50th anniversary of the priesthood, he received the Order of St. Sergius of Radonezh (II degree).

demise

In his last years, the priest suffered greatly from excruciating bodily infirmities, but continued to serve, giving himself entirely to God and people. And on January 15, 2007 (the day of St. Seraphim of Sarov), he addressed his flock with a farewell sermon. And on February 2, in the evening, the sacrament of unction was performed on him, after which, after some time, his soul departed to the Lord.

For three days in a row, despite the February cold, severe frost and wind, from morning to night his orphaned children went to him. Priests led their large flock. Restrained weeping, burning candles, singing memorial services and living roses in people's hands - this is how they saw off the righteous man on his last journey.

His last refuge was the Serafimovsky cemetery in St. Petersburg. The burial took place on February 5th. A huge number of representatives of the clergy and laity who came to the funeral service did not fit in the temple. The service was led by the vicar of the St. Petersburg diocese, Archbishop Konstantin of Tikhvin.

Serafimovskoye cemetery in St. Petersburg has a rich and glorious history. It is known as a necropolis of outstanding figures of science and culture. At the beginning of the Great Patriotic War, the cemetery was the second after Piskarevsky in terms of the number of mass graves of Leningraders and dead soldiers who died during the blockade. The military memorial tradition continued after the war.

Saying goodbye to their beloved shepherd, many did not hide their tears. But those who accompanied him were not discouraged. Batiushka always taught his flock to be faithful Christians: to stand firmly on their feet and endure worldly sorrows.

Memory

The Parthians do not forget their beloved pastor: from time to time evenings of remembrance are dedicated to him. Especially solemnly in February 2013, a memorial evening was held dedicated to the day of the sixth anniversary of the death of a popular clergyman (concert hall "At Finlyandsky"), in which both ordinary parishioners and prominent people of Russia took part: Rear Admiral Mikhail Kuznetsov, poetess Lyudmila Morentsova , singer Sergey Aleshchenko, many clerics.

Some publications in the media are also dedicated to the memory of Vasily Ermakov.

Finally

The priest always said: one must pray and believe, and then the Lord will save the people and holy Rus'. You should never lose heart, you should never drive God out of your heart. We must remember that when it becomes difficult, in the surrounding life there will always be support from loved ones and a spiritual example.

“My dear Russian people, children of the 21st century,” Father Vasily exhorted his flock, “keep the Orthodox faith, and God will never leave you.”