Spiritual testament of father Vasily Ermakov. About Father Vasily And the people reached out

We met Vera Ivanovna Tretyakova, nee Khvoshch, in Ustyug, where she came to visit her parents. I wanted to ask about the recently deceased Archpriest Vasily Ermakov - her spiritual father. Vera Ivanovna did not immediately decide to meet, but the desire to honor the memory of her father overpowered her. And so we sit down at the table in her parents’ house. Another fate into which you plunge headlong, living another life.

"All priests and all people"

Verochka remembers: the swing is flying - joy! and two foreign priests approach - they have come to see the pope. They ask: “Verochka, who do you love more?” “I love all the priests and all the people,” said the child.

The fathers laughed. However, only one of the guests was a priest - Father Gennady Yablonsky. The second turned out to be Bishop Melchizedek - we have already written about this wonderful archpastor more than once (for example, about how in Soviet times he secretly smuggled books about the Royal Martyrs through customs). And then, many, many years ago, he came to Ustyug to visit his protege, Vera’s parent, Father John Khvoshch.

The baby spoke to Lord Melchizedek! - the father admires his daughter.

Father John had just returned from service and sat down for a minute to listen to us. He is over eighty. The smile never leaves his face.

“What have you done?”

Father John talked a little about himself, about the fact that he has been a believer since childhood:

I went to church with my mom. Mom, of course, was more diligent. And at school they laughed at me: “A monk in blue pants.”

They lived in Ukraine, in Yenakievo, where they moved from Belarus. They lived modestly, and then the Germans came and the large family began to starve. One day, when Vanya was carrying grain, the horse stopped at the crossing. Some Nazi grabbed the whip. He could have screwed him to death, but, fortunately, next to the fascist stood a translator from our Soviets. Saving the boy, he whipped him for show, and everything turned out okay. Vanya once saw how the Nazis whipped our tractor driver. A child couldn't stand this.

One day our people drove the Nazis out of the village, but then they were surrounded by German tanks and shells rained down. The Red Army soldiers ran, Vanya with them, across the field. One shell exploded nearby, but did not hit the boy. Our Katyushas fired in response. Vanya saw German tanks burning, but the Nazis still prevailed that time. The boy buried the Red Army soldiers, and then went to their mass grave, cried and scolded his enemies: “What have you done!”

In the Caucasus

The next memorable event in the life of the future priest was the beginning of his studies at the Odessa Seminary. Soon, however, his health began to deteriorate and he had to give up his studies. He bought a ticket for the ship and went to Abkhazia to pray. The fact is that at that time there were legends about Caucasian elders hiding in the mountains, and many seminarians wanted to be their novices.

In the Caucasus, local Christians helped find the hermitage of Father Seraphim. Ivan wandered along the slopes in search of firewood, then he and the elder sawed it with a two-handed saw. And they also prayed together. It was scary - the authorities did not favor the elders, but the Lord did not give them away. Father John did not even tell his family about the most amazing event of that time...

“I always knew that dad was very kind to the righteous John of Kronstadt,” recalls Vera Ivanovna. - He never left his tomb when he was in St. Petersburg, and we guessed that there was something behind it. And everything opened unexpectedly. Once in the Ioannovsky Monastery, the pope wanted to serve a prayer service in front of the relics. I knew the troparion, but I didn’t remember the kontakion. I asked one nun to help, and she brought a book about St. John. In the evening I open it again, and suddenly, among other miracles performed through the prayers of the Kronstadt shepherd, I find my father’s testimony!

It was about how Righteous John saved the life of Father John Horsetail. It turns out that in Abkhazia, among these heavenly bushes, he became very ill - something was wrong with his stomach. The young man crawled out onto the balcony, thinking that he was dying, and began to pray. At that moment the saint appeared to him, promising healing. Ivan then asked people: “Where is Father John, where did he go?” But no one could understand what this young Russian was talking about.

Many years later, he told Mother Seraphim, the abbess of the St. John’s Monastery in St. Petersburg, about what happened. And it turned out that she wrote down this story - that’s how everything was revealed. After the miraculous healing, the priest was able to continue his studies. After graduating from the seminary, he served as a deacon in Murmansk, and after becoming a priest, he labored first in Belozersk, then was transferred to Ustyug. I've been here since then, about forty years ago.

He leaves the room, shuffling a little with his shoes, then returns:

Do you want kvass? - asks.

“I won’t refuse,” I answer.

He laughs and brings kvass. Either he tries to cheer us up, then he talks about the illnesses that visited him, and suddenly he says:

I have a stopover. I've been through a lot of years, I've been through everything, but the end is already...

And he smiles so well, well and a little guiltily, as if apologizing.

Caught up with

- Did you have difficulties as a priest’s daughter, Vera Ivanovna? - I ask my interlocutor.

Yes, ridicule and everything else... The history teacher liked to ask the question: “So, children, raise your hands: which of you believes in God?” I didn't pick it up. And she came home empty-handed, recognizing herself as a traitor. Now we sometimes see that teacher and say hello.

In high school, Vera became a Komsomol member. First, she asked God to appear and explain to everyone, and first of all, to her, that He exists, that they were persecuting her in vain. But it’s hard to go against everyone, especially a child, and Vera said to herself: “Maybe they’re right.” But my father was always in front of my eyes. He meekly endured her reproaches, her darkness, representing the ideal of a person to which the Soviet school seemed to suggest striving. He was above everything personal. He had no days off or vacations. Two to three hours at home, the rest of the time in the temple. Vera did not know when her father slept or whether he slept at all. Mom used to buy paint for the house and the next day ask her father: “Where is it?” And the priest has already updated something with it in the church. “Where are the brushes?” Right there.

While my daughter was little, I taught her to pray. And then I just waited, grieving and believing that the Lord would arrange everything. Already a man of the kindest soul, he loved his daughter to the point of self-forgetfulness.

There was such a case. Vera Ivanovna remembers how she went to Leningrad to go to college. There was nowhere to live as an applicant, but friends of some friends said that it was possible to live for a while in the dormitory of the Pediatric Institute. It turned out, however, that without permanent registration there was nothing to do there. There was another address - my mother's friends, with whom contact had long been lost. I went there, called - silence in response.

Stachek wandered along Avenue to the metro, completely unhappy. A tram passed by, ascending the viaduct. A few minutes later, a voice was heard in the distance: “Vera!” “It’s amazing how many Veras there are here,” the girl thought, “and how familiar the voice is, but I don’t know anyone in Leningrad.” And again the voice, closer: “Faith!” I turned around - my father was in a hurry, exhausted.

It turns out that when I saw off my daughter, my heart was not in the right place - how is she? I took a plane ticket and flew to a large unfamiliar city, having in my hands the same addresses as Vera. I went looking. When I was riding on the tram, I saw that there she was, my daughter, walking not herself. And the next stop is right behind the viaduct, it’s impossible to catch up. He alarmed the passengers with his plea: “Stop it!..” The tram stopped where it was not supposed to, and Father John ran after Vera across the lawn, across a huge avenue, not paying attention to the traffic lights. Caught up with. And through him the Lord overtook Vera Ivanovna. So she returned through her own father - to the Heavenly One, begging for forgiveness. She clarifies, however: “I didn’t leave God right away and I didn’t return right away.”

"Come to me"

Vera Ivanovna did not come to Father Vasily’s community immediately after moving to St. Petersburg. I went to different temples. Then she and her husband became parishioners of the Church of Demetrius of Thessaloniki in Kolomyagi, not far from which they lived. The rector there was Father Ippolit Kowalski.

Once I went to the Seraphim Church and was surprised that half of the people stayed after the service for a prayer service. And another time I attended the service of Father Vasily. Then she came again... The abbot looked at her, but did not say anything. She first came up when one of Vera Ivanovna’s acquaintances had difficulties. Father Vasily offered to bring him, but for now submit a note. When she held it out, he asked, looking into her eyes: “Did you write about everyone?” Vera Ivanovna thought about it. It seems to be about everyone, or maybe not, but it doesn’t matter what conclusions she came to, the main thing is that the thread was stretched. Vera Ivanovna was used to experiencing everything within herself, but then she suddenly opened up...

Listening to her, I myself tried to understand why? Perhaps the fact is that we often fulfill each other’s requests, only patiently providing services because it is necessary. But to go beyond this “must”, to ask a question beyond it - there is neither strength nor participation for this. But this is very important. Only by discovering genuine interest in oneself does a person awaken. This ability to lift people above the ordinary is a rare gift, almost invisible from the outside. Imagine being a hair's breadth off the ground. Even if a television camera is aimed at you at this moment, the film will not capture anything. Meanwhile, a miracle happened. It’s the same in relationships between people: often nothing happens, even if you ate a pound of salt together, and sometimes a word or a look, or even something ephemeral, is enough for a sharp turn of fate.

Vera Ivanovna began to look into the Seraphim Church more and more often. Sometimes he will write down some questions to ask the priest, and then crumple the paper, asking about something completely different. About what really matters. Father Vasily knew how to tune people without even touching - with his breath, with a smile. Gradually, Vera Ivanovna began to be torn between two churches, Dimitrievskaya and Serafimovskaya, unable to make a choice. But one day, when she approached the elder after the liturgy to venerate the cross, she heard a gentle answer to a question that she never dared to ask: “Come to me!”

For Vladimir Tretyakov, Vera Ivanovna’s husband, the decision to move to another parish was also not easy. They talked with Father Vasily, their hearts immediately reached out to the priest, but in the Demetrius Church he and Father Hippolytus were no strangers. Father Hippolyte, having learned about his parishioner’s doubts, sighed and said: “I won’t be able to care for you like Father Vasily.” As a farewell gift, he gave me the image of “Consolation and Consolation” along with the life of St. Seraphim. But it was hard for him to lose Vladimir, one of his first assistants.

Above, I said, as an example, about a miracle when you take off from the ground, but no one sees. But some live like this, like Father John Khvoshch or Father Hippolytus. Having fulfilled the will of the Father, they carefully brought Vera Ivanovna to the man who transformed her - to Elder Vasily Ermakov.

Handkerchief

Vera Ivanovna thinks about my question whether Father Vasily was perspicacious:

For some reason, he did not remember the names of the priests out loud when he read the notes - only to himself, with the exception of those who were sick. And if he suddenly uttered my father’s name, it meant that something was wrong.

Or here’s a case: Vera Ivanovna once couldn’t sit still at work - she was drawn to church. He comes running: there is an evening service in the church, not many people. I asked one woman for a handkerchief. Father, when he saw Vera Ivanovna, exclaimed joyfully, turning to her husband: “Volodya, who came to us! Faith has come! But then he asked her in amazement: “Why did you pull this on yourself? You look good even without a scarf.” The spiritual daughter, blushing, pulled off her scarf.

Some parishioners in Serafimovskoye wrapped themselves almost in monastic clothes, but the priest did not like it, and not at all out of freethinking - quite the opposite. There was hardly another temple in the city where the requirements for clothing were so strict. “What is it,” Father Vasily was indignant in spirit, “he came in jeans and a T-shirt. Are you going to go to a little boss like that? And then you came to the Chief of all chiefs.” Father Vasily taught men to go to church in a suit, put on a fresh shirt and tie. And it doesn’t matter that it’s summer, it’s hot. “I,” he consoled, “sweat too.” He also exhorted women: “You need to have a decent appearance in the temple. Sew yourself a dress in which you can stand with dignity at the service and receive the Mysteries.” That’s why he ordered Vera Ivanovna to take off her scarf, because it was better without it at all, like Mary, the sister of Lazarus, who washed the Savior’s feet with her hair, than in something shapeless and tasteless.

For him, neatness in clothing was a continuation of spiritual rigor. He firmly defended the Patriarch from attacks, whom it was then almost a rule of good manners among “zealots” to judge; he defended the clergy, even when they were in some way wrong. And the point is not at all that he was lenient towards misdeeds or was afraid to wash dirty linen in public. Simply washing the bones of the shepherds was for him something akin to coming to church in pants that looked like underwear - a morally ugly gesture, evidence of a lack of core, self-respect.

And it’s amazing how this attracted people to him - you won’t find this among any “zealots” in the temple. The people at the liturgy stood so densely that it was not always possible to cross themselves.

But this time it was a weekday, and there weren’t many people in the church. Taking off her scarf, Vera Ivanovna went to the choir.

Say hello to Old Man,” Father Vasily told her after the service.

Then he repeated it. And he reminded me again. Soon after this, Father John Khvoshch began to have big troubles in his life. It has always been this way. If the elder became especially affectionate and attentive, then expect trials. Was he insightful? When you ask this question, his spiritual children are lost. That it was, there is no doubt. But he knew how to frame it in such a way that it seemed like nothing special: “Say hello to Dad!”

"Always noticed me"

How many of his spiritual children repeat these words: “He always noticed me!” But there were hundreds of them. I can't explain it. It was some kind of breakthrough of another world into our lives - a world where there is no time, where love has no boundaries. This is the most amazing thing you discover when you encounter the righteous. We don’t have enough time to bestow our attention on those closest and dearest, and these are just a few people. But when God breathes in a person, he begins to be enough for everyone, in abundance.

And he always noticed me,” continues Vera Ivanovna. He says and cries: - Since he wrapped himself in my jacket, he laughs. And another time he put on my winter hat on one side and asked: “How do you like me?” And your heart melts, and it’s like you’ve returned to childhood - such love, such simplicity. I run past it once. Father was talking with one woman, and I was in a hurry, I wanted to slip by unnoticed. And he suddenly stops me, smiling mischievously. He pulled the scarf over my face and somehow funny changed my maiden name. I laugh, and he changes it in a new way, and his eyes laugh. I come to my senses: “Father, how do you know my former last name? I didn’t tell her to you, did I?” And he: “Don’t I read newspapers?” And indeed, in the Vologda diocesan newspaper there was something about my father. But how did Father Vasily know about this? I don't understand.

You write a note and put in ten rubles (you can’t take it anymore, things are really bad). Father will see it and will certainly return it, saying: “Take it, it will come in handy.” And I’ll bring mushrooms from Ustyug - he becomes deliberately angry, hiding a smile: “Vera, why so little?” It's getting funny like that. And the priest laughs: “It won’t rust behind me.” She gave him some help - suspenders, that is. It was so embarrassing, because it was such a trivial thing. I babble something in defense, and he says in admiration: “Faith! You always give me what I need!” It was so...

I think, standing in the church: “How can the priest put up with me - such a nonentity?” Then he comes out and, turning to someone, says, nodding at me: “What are you asking me? She’ll tell you everything, she’s good.” So he set the bar. If he scolded me, I would have started to resist. But what he praised set the bar, although he scolded others. Each had their own approach. The goal is one - to save, but the approach is different. He loved my sister Olga very much. More than me, because she has more difficulties. He never gave me such a welcome as she did. Once every three years he sees it - and it’s as if he doesn’t feel like himself: “Olga! - shouts. - Olya, hello!” And immediately - go to yourself, ask about everything that happened. In St. Isaac's Cathedral they were waiting for the metropolitan, there was no way to get through, and Father Vasily: “Olga! Take pictures!” - and walked us through, then looked for a gift for her: “Olga, I don’t know what to give you.”

Vera Ivanovna covers her face. Then he continues:

Father kept repeating: “Remember, Lord, Leah and the children.” Leah is my mother, and the children are Olga and me. I remember my mother had an angel day, but I couldn’t get to the priest, there were too many people. And so he goes to the altar, and I didn’t even give him a note - nothing. Suddenly the priest looks around and says so well, well: “I know. Today is Liinka’s angel day.”

His love united us all. If you read his sermons with your eyes, you may even experience rejection. People won't agree with everything. This had to be heard live, when there was pain and feeling in the voice. He became dignified before saying the pastoral word, we smiled. Father always said the same thing, but in different ways.

The sermon ends, then a prayer service, reading notes - don’t come up. He goes out to the car and we accompany him. One day I thought: “How his legs must hurt!” I regretted it from the bottom of my heart. Suddenly the priest stops as he passes me, whispers: “Ver, my legs hurt.”

"With the Saints..."

He died on the day of the celebration of the icon of the Mother of God “Consolation and Consolation”.

That evening Vera Ivanovna’s mood was gloomy. It was the eve of the anniversary of the day when she was illegally fired from her position as an accountant at the Red Triangle association. A friend came to whom Vera Ivanovna said: “Tomorrow is a tragic day in my life - I was thrown overboard like a naughty puppy.” If only she had known that a real tragedy was ahead... At midnight, she and her husband were standing in prayer when the phone rang:

Father died...

No, this can't be true. I remember for your health.

Call again:

Father died...

The husband began to cry. Vladimir grew up without a father, and the priest became more than his confessor. When was the last time he visited Fr. Vasily in confession, he listened and absolved his sins, almost losing consciousness. I just believed that the disease would go away...

The Tretyakovs turned off their landline and cell phones and went to bed. They didn’t want to talk or think, they just wanted to forget themselves, to run away from the terrible news.

In the morning, an acquaintance ran in and said: “Father is being taken to his homeland, to Bolkhov” - this is in the Oryol region. We ran to the temple. It was full, but there was an extraordinary silence that will never be forgotten. They sang, “Rest with the saints...” There was confusion, tension because they wanted to take the priest away, but then one of the priests came out with the words: “They will bury you here,” and there was a sigh of relief. The day has passed, night has come. Those who spent it in the temple recalled: “This night was Easter! We sang “Christ is Risen...”

Morning, long funeral service in the cold.

Vera Ivanovna’s story about these days is extremely laconic. “Why do you remember so little?” - I thought. At that moment she began to cry.

In the evening after the funeral, she and her husband tuned in to an Orthodox radio station, where Father Vasily talked about Xenia of Petersburg. As if he had never died, he continued to preach the gospel. And it’s not that the pain began to go away, it’s just that an understanding has come, which comes to some earlier, to others later, that there really is no death.

Cherubimskaya

My father had a stroke... - recalls Vera Ivanovna. - What to do? Where to run? Of course, to Father Vasily’s grave, to ask for dad. Of course, to righteous John on Karpovka.

In the monastery she met a schema-monastery: “Let him get up, he’s very tired, but he’ll get up,” she said so simply, as if about something already decided.

I went down to the tomb of St. John of Kronstadt, began to read the akathist, and then the phone rang. Vera Ivanovna, looking at the poster with the crossed out mobile phone, guiltily took it out.

Dad spoke and started moving! - the brother said worriedly from afar, from Ustyug.

The Kronstadt shepherd continued to smile from the icon.

And after some time, Archpriest John Khvoshch himself came to thank him. The autumn rain was falling, and the priest tirelessly swept across the city kilometer after kilometer. He cried with his heavenly patron and served a prayer service. Then he went to the Seraphim Cemetery to thank his other prayer book.

“How I would like to be there,” he said one day, standing at the grave of Father Vasily.

What are you saying, dad, it’s very expensive here... - the daughter began to explain, then she caught herself.

Her friend Natalya Glukhikh told me how they once served together - Fathers John and Vasily: “...The liturgy is underway. And suddenly, at the beginning of “Kherubimskaya,” birds began to sing, flying through the open window in the dome. This amazed us. “Cherubimskaya” ended and the birds fell silent.”

Priest Vasily Borin was born in 1917 in the village of Gorodishche, Pechora Territory, into a poor peasant family. His parents Anton Savelyevich Borin and Evdokia Nikolaevna Morozova had seven children. During the birth of her seventh child, the mother died. My father married a second time to a pious woman, Glikeria Vasilyevna, she was a great worker, not only managed the household, but also helped raise the children, making sure that the children did not miss Sunday services in the church.

Since the family could barely make ends meet, the girls served in rich families, and Vasily was a shepherd. When he was 14 years old, his father died. From that day on, Vasily became the master of the house, putting on his father’s shirt, he made it clear to everyone that all responsibility for the family now lay with him.

In 1936, Vasily married Lyubov Vasilyevna Khlomova, her father belonged to a wealthy merchant family, he was engaged in fishing and smoked fish for sale.

The young people lived with the Borins family. Their first child died in infancy, and three daughters were born later. Lyubov Vasilyevna’s brother helped the young family. He gave me his seeder, thresher, winnowing machine. But during collectivization everything was confiscated.

Father recalled this time with sadness; he had to sit in prison and was threatened with execution several times. During the war he was captured. The prayer of repentance did not leave his lips, and when the Germans were leading him to be shot, he prayed: “In Thy hands, Lord, receive my spirit...” And they released him...

After the war, the Borin family lived with Lyubov Vasilievna’s relatives in the village of Reola, then moved to Tartu, where they received a small plot. Vasily could not get a job for a long time, as he was looking for a place where he could not work on church holidays instead of taking a vacation. But he was not hired under such conditions. Finally got a job clearing the forest of branches. But it so happened that they didn’t send him a tractor, and he didn’t have time to do all the work, so he worked on Good Friday, burning branches. From the fire the fire spread to the forest. He gave up putting out the fire, while shouting: “Lord, I will serve You, just put out the fire.” People came running to help, the fire was extinguished.

It should be noted that Vasily was repeatedly invited to study at the seminary, but he doubted whether he could be a priest.

Remembering his promise, Vasily soon left for the St. Petersburg Seminary, where he studied for 2 years.

Professor Theologian Igor Tsesarevich Mironovich recalls: “It was not we, the scientists, who won the people’s love, but he... I studied at the seminary with him... People followed him in droves. We were surprised what he was telling them. Always wearing an old cassock, and as soon as they give you a new one, he will immediately sell it, he helped the family.”

Due to the extremely difficult financial situation of his family, in 1952 he was given a parish in the village of Fineva Gora in the Pskov region, and in 1955 he was transferred to the village of Verkhniy Most. Soon the opportunity arose to finish his studies at the seminary, and the priest returned to St. Petersburg.

After graduating from the seminary, Father Vasily was transferred to the Estonian diocese.

Father Vasily, shortly before his move from the Pskov region to Estonia, had a dream - someone came to him and said: “Start restoring the broken church in Syrents!” Arriving at the Tallinn diocesan administration to introduce himself to Metropolitan Alexy*, Father Vasily timidly said: “Vladyka, do not consider this an inappropriate joke. I had a dream, supposedly they were sending me to restore a church in some Syrenets. Where is it? And what is this?". Smiling, Metropolitan Alexy replied: “So Syrenets is in my diocese. This village is now called Vasknarva. That’s good, very good, I’ll direct you there.” (* Bishop Alexey (Ridiger) of Tallinn and Estonia was appointed Metropolitan of Leningrad and Novgorod on June 29, 1986 with the assignment of managing the Tallinn diocese. On June 7, 1990, at the Local Council of the Russian Orthodox Church, Metropolitan Alexey was elected to the Moscow Patriarchal Throne. Enthronement took place on June 10, 1990 of the year.)

Not far from the Pyukhtitsa monastery, in the place where the Narva River originates from Lake Peipsi, according to God’s providence, Father Vasily Borin had to restore the Ilyinsky Church in the village of Vasknarva. He, like the blessed Pukhtitsa, was alien to pride and vanity; in his deep humility, he did not rely only on his own strength (otherwise he could become despondent, looking at the ruins of the church that he had to restore). Knowing that the prayers of the blessed Pukhtitsa elders* were great, he often visited their resting places to ask for their prayerful intercession before the Lord.

(Blessed Elder Elena (1866-1947) and Blessed Elder Ekaterina (1889-1968) are buried in the monastery cemetery near St. Nicholas Church.)

To restore a stone church, bricks, cement, boards, and people capable of working were needed. The Pukhtitsa monastery helped with everything it could.

One of the spiritual daughters of the ascetic witnessed how, through the prayers of Blessed Elena, Father Vasily was given cement, although initially the warehouse workers said that there was no cement, because of this the construction of a school and a hospital was standing by. Father Vasily calmly replied that this could not be: “Before leaving here, I stopped by the Pukhtitsa Monastery, prayed to Blessed Elena, and she always helps me. There must be cement for me!” - and sat down on a chair. A little later, another warehouse employee came up and, having learned about what had happened, asked Archpriest Vasily: “Perhaps it’s a carload of cement standing at a dead end for you, in which two tons are missing? There has been litigation about this for a long time.”

Father Vasily exclaimed joyfully that blessed Helena had never let him down, and he took the cement and was ready to pay for the shortage. When the cement was brought to the temple, it turned out that there was no shortage, but rather an excess.

At first it was very difficult for Father Vasily. Next to the ruins of the stone temple there was a small wooden church, where Father Vasily served. The Lord endowed him with the gift of healing mental and physical illnesses - he reprimanded people, and had the blessing of the now famous Reverend Father Simeon of Pechersk for this. (It should be noted that Father Vasily was the spiritual son of Archimandrite John (Krestyankin) (1910-2006)).

Many people came to Father Vasily in Vasknarva; they had to be accommodated somewhere, so he erected several buildings.

From the story of Abbess Varvara (Trofimova): “Father Vasily often passed through us - past Pyukhtitsa. He used to go to the monastery cemetery and go straight to the graves of Mother Elena and Mother Catherine, our blessed ones, and ask: “Elders of God, help me. I’ll go to Mother Abbess now, I’ll beg her a little...

He’ll talk in a simple way at the graves, pray... And he’ll tell me everything: “Mother, that’s what he asked, that’s what he asked of the elders of God...”

I say: “Well, father, the Lord will not leave you.”

Here, mother, I’m on my way, they promised a brick there, a few planks there... Will you give me something?

I will give you, father, for sure...

This is how Father Vasily started. And how things went! He cleared everything, re-laid the foundations of three altars... I came to him many times and was happy.

He works during the day, and in the evening he serves the all-night vigil and prays with his pilgrims. He had no one as an assistant. No second priest, no deacon. And he gave communion, and reprimanded, and served prayer services, and administered unction - and all alone. The people came to him. They came from St. Petersburg, from Moscow - from everywhere, they brought things, icons, materials, dressmakers, painters, plasterers, cooks appeared... Some sew vestments, some cook, some plaster, paint, some saw wood. There were also artists whom he immediately commissioned to paint the ornaments, and later they began to paint the walls in the Nikolsky chapel.

Father Vasily wanted everything “to be as before.” I found old photographs, we also found something in our monastery... “I will have a church of only three altars!” he said.”

The main altar is in honor of the prophet of God Elijah, the left one is in the name of St. Nicholas and the right one is in the name of John the Baptist.

On October 15, 1978, Metropolitan Alexy consecrated the St. Nicholas chapel, restored from the ruins of the Elias Church in Vasknarva. Father Vasily served in this church until his death, which occurred on December 27, 1994.

From the memoirs of Abbess Varvara (Trofimova): “I loved Father Vasily very much, I simply admired his courage and love. He was a true shepherd, a spiritual ascetic. He was burning all over. I was attracted to him by his honesty, directness, and genuine openness to his neighbors. If you ask him for something, he seems ready to give his whole soul to you. And he invested all the talents he received from God into God’s work, into the church.”

From the memoirs of Father Vasily’s spiritual daughter: “Father Vasily was very patient, prayed a lot and grieved for his children. He tried to evoke the fear of God in people... The priest told the man: “Yes, you are sick!” So how can you be healed if you are in sin and continue to sin? And the man was afraid that he would remain crippled for the rest of his life, and tried to say prayer.

Father taught us love for departed souls and prayer for them. One day, for a holiday, he was given so many notes of repose that he did not have enough strength and time to read them. He fell to his knees and sobbed, covering the notes with his hands: “Lord,” he prayed, “You see that I don’t have the strength to read them all, read them yourself!” When the priest raised his hands, he realized that all the notes had been read. Then he thanked the Lord... He had the gift of tears, he knew how to pray and cry together with a grieving and painful soul.”

Many people were healed through the prayers of the ascetic, but some remained in the same state. Father Vasily said: “I am only a servant of God, and healing comes from God. Nothing happens to a believer without the will of God. If the Lord blesses cleansing, then the demons retreat.”

From the memoirs of Father Vasily’s spiritual daughter: “Once a woman came to the priest with an attractive daughter, but not entirely healthy... She worked for a long time. Mother brought a large sum of money for the restoration of the temple. Tirelessly carrying bricks, doing any kind of work... The time of departure approached, and her heart sank with despair: “What we came with is what we are leaving with,” she told Father Vasily... Father Vasily was very upset after talking with her. .. At night I couldn’t sleep... I knelt down, raised my hands in prayer and, with tears, persistently began to ask the Lord to help the poor woman.

In the morning after the service and reprimand, a miracle happened. The girl felt better. The mother, infinitely happy, went home with her daughter, thanking God and Fr. Vasily.

A little time passed, and oh. Vasily received a letter from her, filled with tears: “...Father, pray for your daughter... She left home, got involved with drug addicts...”

The priest locked himself in his cell, wept bitterly and asked forgiveness from the Lord for that daring night prayer for her.

During his sermons, he often told this story and said that one cannot go against the will of God. If something is not given according to your desire, then it is better for you. Humble yourself, submit to the will of God. “If my mother and I had understood this then, my daughter, although sick, would not have perished in her sins.”

Father said that the Lord can only be with a person when the person has resigned himself to all the circumstances that God Himself puts before him...

Father Vasily told us: “If you stop getting sick now and are completely healthy, then let you go into the world - you will die!”

He only alleviated suffering and did not ask God for complete healing. So that a person always lives in repentance and always wants to turn to God...

In one of his sermons, he talked about his parishioner who worked on a collective farm. When the brigade rested, she went aside and read the Gospel. And now the time has come for her to die. Father was informed, but when he arrived it was too late... “Have you all taken measures?” - he asked the doctor. “Yes,” she answered.

Then Father Vasily said: “This servant of God did not abandon the Gospel, God will not leave her without the sacrament.” And turning to the lying woman, he said: “Repent, servant of God!” And he began to list his sins. At that moment, everyone saw two tears roll out of her closed eyes. And the priest asked: “Will you take communion?”

She opened her mouth, and the priest gave her communion.

“Yes,” said the doctor, “God exists!” - and from that time on I believed in the Lord.”

From the memoirs of V.L.: “...Father Vasily advised in the morning, getting out of bed, to cross your legs with the words: “Lord, bless my feet to walk along the paths of Your commandments!

Father tried to keep us in the temple as long as possible, explaining that every minute spent here was recorded by an angel...”

He helped people get on the right path. Whether family matters were being resolved, or housing issues arose, the priest always prayed in church, during prayer services, at the Liturgy, for those who turned to him. He also prayed in his cell. And only then did he give an answer...

It must be said that times were harsh for Orthodox people then. We could not stay with Fr. for a long time. Vasily: the police visited both at night and in the evening. I had to hide. And those who did not succeed were taken away, although through the prayers of Fr. Vasily, they were returning...

One day the authorities were going to close the temple, but the priest prayed fervently, and the next morning it snowed so heavily that they could not drive their car. Even bread was dropped from helicopters back then. Father rejoiced..."

Let us give a few more testimonies about the miracles revealed by the Lord through the prayers of the ascetic:

“...Father brought us to his place, but he himself fell ill, laying down with a temperature of 39 degrees. A strong debilitating cough, and even flux... He lay down right on the floor in his wooden church...

By evening, a lot of people had gathered - it was the day appointed by the priest for the lecture. Once a week, patients came, the doctors were powerless against their illnesses... People gathered, waited, and the priest lay on the floor completely sick, coughing, groaning in pain... The people began to grumble...

Father Vasily stood up, overcoming the pain, and went to the altar. His moans and cries could be heard.

Suddenly everything changed: the Royal Doors opened, Father Vasily stood completely healthy, cheerful with a joyful face.

Here, my dears. You saw for yourself what I was like just now. But the Lord restored me after prayer. “Lord,” I said, throwing myself on the floor in front of him. Lord, not for me, a sinner. But for the sake of the people who came to me, have mercy on me and heal me!”

Yes, it was a miracle. Father Vasily was completely healthy. The cough has not returned...

Father Vasily told how he once prayed all summer to the prophet Elijah so that he would not let rain fall on the earth, because the roof of the temple was not covered. So, heavy rain began to fall only after the construction work was completed.

And how many tearful prayers the priest offered to God, asking for funds and help to carry out construction work! Only God knows about this.

I remember two workers came to the priest to ask him to pay them for some business. But he has no money...

So Father Vasily says to the workers:

Wait until evening, I'm waiting for a transfer from the post office.

Although he didn’t know about any transfer, and therefore was worried, of course. But he prayed and believed.

And, sure enough, the money transfer soon arrived. Father Vasily himself was surprised at this.

But the priest had not only the gift of prayer. He had the great gift of standing before God. For every deed, he asked for a blessing from the Lord, from the Queen of Heaven, from the saints. If any issue had to be resolved, he did nothing without prayer. And he immediately turned to God with a fiery and often tearful prayer, and received an answer, yes, yes, exactly the answer inside his heart. Therefore, Father Vasily always had clarity and firmness of conviction about what to do.”

Let us give a memory of the last days of the ascetic from the book “Father Vasily Borin”: “When he fell ill, he said that he would die and his relatives, when they arrived, would no longer find him alive. And so it happened...

Father was already ill and did not serve. And then one summer there was no rain for a long time. A prayer service was served in the church, but there was not a cloud in the sky. Then Father Vasily, completely ill, barely moving, went to the temple, prayed at the altar, and soon large drops of rain saturated the ground with moisture.

The last time the priest served was in 1992 on Forgiveness Sunday. O. Vasily asked everyone for forgiveness. He barely had the strength to stand, in the altar he could not take off his vestments himself, the altar boy helped him... On the night of Saturday, December 24, 1994, the priest became ill. They called the dean... They called Mother Abbess... and asked her to pray that the priest would live to see communion.

When the dean arrived, Fr. Vasily regained consciousness. They gave him unction, gave him communion, he recognized everyone, called them by name, then his strength left him, and he never regained consciousness. On Sunday the priests arrived and read the funeral...

On December 27, 1994, at 2 o’clock in the morning, quietly, in silence, as if completely obedient to the will of God, the priest died.

Eternal memory to you and low bow, Father Vasily!”

I knew Father Vasily little, just a few meetings. The small cemetery church on Serafimovsky was one of the spiritual addresses of St. Petersburg, where people with various needs went. The cemetery wooden church is crowded and cramped. The atmosphere is homely, reminiscent of the churches of small towns in Russia: with rugs and towels on the icons - lovely signs of the people’s care for the house of God.

Those to whom the Lord gave a meeting with a real shepherd know what a joy it is

In the years that have passed since the death of the illustrious priest, the winds in church life have subtly changed; independent style came into fashion. It became considered unnecessary to pour out your soul to a priest, to discuss the details of your life. Freedom and the right to choose one's own discretion are jealously guarded. There are frequent complaints about the severity of confessors and their desire to dictate their will. There are probably reasons for this. The unfortunate phenomenon of church reality, known as “young age,” has hit many destinies painfully. But those to whom the Lord gave a meeting with a real shepherd and spiritual mentor know what a joy and what a help it is. Many Orthodox St. Petersburg residents, the spiritual children of Father Vasily Ermakov, will not forget the time in which they had the opportunity to see his fatherly image, hear the word, and ask questions and requests for prayer.

While preparing this article, I read a large number of memoirs. Everywhere there is a sharpness of impressions and an awareness of the rare benefits from the leadership of a priest. The years spent next to Father Vasily were a time of discovery, inspiration, a surge of strength, a change of mind - the absolute peak of all life. “Father Vasily is one of those who does not allow you to rest, does not allow you to calm down. He always disturbs, excites the mind and feelings,” that’s what they say about him.

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It was as if time was becoming denser and the colors were brighter - this is how this simple and open Russian man influenced his surroundings and those around him, lively, appreciating humor, stately in his own way, with an inner core and a touch of nobility. The name of the site, which was started by Father Vasily, is noteworthy: “Russia in Colors.” The most ordinary things, such as a meal with the priest in the parish house or a trip somewhere to Optina, to Bolkhov, to the small homeland of the Ermakovs, acquired significance, provided abundant food for thought, and set the mood to work on one’s heart.

The value of clergy is that it makes it possible to follow a strong and bright Christian personality and move after her. “Spiritual life,” explained Father Vasily, “is a path in a dark dungeon. There are a lot of sharp corners and deep holes here. It’s important here that a highly experienced guide leads you by the hand, otherwise you’ll fall and disappear and won’t get out on your own...”

Petty picking and self-criticism were not inherent in Father Vasily’s confessions. Having grasped the essence, he immediately outlined in broad strokes for a person the prospect of his movement forward. This gift lived in him - to recognize the mental garments of sin, the internal structure of everyone, and act encouragingly.

Dissatisfaction with confession is often stated. Over and over again, a person is forced to admit the same thing, to retell the equally monotonous, hopeless story of the donkey Eeyore. Listening to all this, the priest also gets bored and quickly, with the words “I forgive and authorize,” sends off the formal debt. But a true confessor has the gift of awakening repentance. He not only accepts confession, but helps to repent. With God's gift, he guesses a person's internal difficulties, his weak points and God's Providence for him. Starting with some insignificant detail, he unfolds before the confessor a picture of a distortion of truth and meaning. Ardent repentance catches the person at the lectern, and he departs, touched and trembling, then partaking of the Holy Mysteries. This is the gift of Father Vasily. His developed intuition and knowledge of his life made his confessions a revelation. After all, it’s one thing when a person unknown to you accepts confession, and it’s completely different when a priest empathizes and prays for you, having the experience, in the words of the psalmist David, to “cleanse” you “from your secret”, that is, from not fully realized sins .

Servant of God, father to parishioners

It is no coincidence that the Orthodox faith is called the fatherly faith

“Russian people are like children,” the priest liked to repeat. “We need a father.” This paternal intonation of communication between the clergy and the flock is increasingly forgotten in our time, replaced by democracy, accessibility, humor, and a pragmatic business style. In the special dignity of the shepherd, in the reverence and reverence that traditionally surrounded the priestly office, one finds only negative aspects - exaltation and desire for honors and praise. But immeasurably more important than this is discipleship and the trust of the flock in mentors, in the image of trust in their father.

It is no coincidence that the Orthodox faith is called the fatherly faith, and the saints are called “fathers” and “mothers.” Saint Father Nicholas, Venerable Mother Mary... These are not metaphors, but an exact formula, the key to understanding the connections within Orthodoxy. A believer in the Church takes the place of a disciple, and his position is somewhat reminiscent of a child’s. Father Vasily: “When I am asked the question of what the laity should do for the church, I say: you must go to church every Saturday and Sunday and on holidays, without missing, in order to learn faith, hope, and patience. Study like in school."

Today people will mock the childishness of the mind. The ability to “think relevantly” is in use, express one’s opinion, give assessments, criticize... The person himself, without realizing it, deprives himself of prayer and trust in the church word, what, as we know from the Gospel, God hid from the wise and opened to babies.

The image of fatherhood is broken. Once during a Sunday school lesson, the teacher talked a lot about the fact that the Lord is our Father, that He treats us in a completely parental way, as His children. And when I graduated, I realized that the children did not understand her. Many grew up without fathers or their fathers did not behave in the best way in life. Because of this, the role of the spiritual father becomes doubly important. It is more difficult than ever for our contemporary people to tune in to spiritual life. Meeting with a pastor and mentor who has a fatherly attitude towards parishioners is an almost exceptional opportunity to throw off the burden of painful psychology, heal spiritual wounds, and find a lost thread of connection with the Heavenly Father.

The motto that Father Vasily repeated many times: “you need to heal people with your heart”

Father Vasily was a born teacher and spiritual healer. His motto, which he repeated many times: “You need to heal people with your heart.” Serving the altar and meeting people occupied a central place in his life. He was constantly passionate about his pastoral mission and created it with inspiration and freedom, just as an artist or writer creates the reality of his works. Those who heard and did the word of God were his family, friends and associates. It’s hard to believe that a person can do this: every day, every hour, live not for oneself, but for others.

Missionary work of Father Vasily

In one interview, the priest complains about priests “running home.” He cites historical examples, such as the life and ministry of the clergyman Georgiy Kosov. “This is who modern priests could learn from, what it means to be a “people’s priest”! - said Father Vasily. - He was a simple rural priest, but he was honored by the fact that writers wrote about him, people came to him not only from nearby places, but from far away. Why? Because he loved the people. He arrived at an abandoned church, there were almost no parishioners, but he began to pray every day, and then, when people came, he talked with everyone, served prayers almost continuously, anointed them with oil - and so every day for decades. Why did he alone become a truly “people's priest”? “Because his temple was open all day, and sometimes half the night, and his heart was just as open.”

Father Vasily thought of missionary work simply: “If every priest sat with the people, talked, asked what needs they had, and helped, then our churches would be full.” The teaching of Father Vasily is the most practical and visual. One must speak carefully about “smart and abstruse” things, as he put it; It was precisely “abstruse and clever” reasoning that always led to schisms and heresies. “Down with abstruse things! - he proclaimed with a spark of humor. - We need to learn simple things. And when you learn to understand the importance of following simple rules, then you will understand spiritual depth.”

There are those who retreat into intellectualism, into formal theology, cling to some specific intellectual theories and disputes, and thirst for external changes and reforms. Father Vasily was far from this. “I didn’t learn life from textbooks,” he said. His experience is taken from constant observation of destinies. As a person with a very, very extensive life experience, who remembered the pre-war period, then the war, the occupation, the post-war revival of the Church, the persecution of the Khrushchev era, who survived the “stagnation”, the collapse of the USSR and the “dashing 1990s”, the priest had the right to generalizations and parallels, to know the essence of things. He was convinced that the Law of God was given to humanity for all time, and he who acts according to the commandments is protected from above, while he who deviates from the truth hates his soul and will have a bitter reward already in this life. There are no workarounds, adaptation of morality to the times, imaginary “adequacy” and “civilization” replacing virtues and spiritual work on oneself, but self-restraint, patience, work, mutual assistance, prayer and the Sacraments as a single recipe for arranging the affairs of this world and entering into eternity. “They tell us: there are few educated Christians. What is Christian education? This is not at all like education in institutes or academies. This is when, after the labors of fasting, humility and prayer, the Holy Spirit takes up residence in the human heart and forms a new being.”

Even in the Soviet years, under the gaze of the “authorities,” the priest preached one thing: the need to honor the Divine law, to be a servant of truth despite fashions and circumstances. “I was taught by Father Konstantin Bystrievsky in St. Nicholas (Cathedral - A.R.): “When you serve a prayer service, you ask: what happened to this person? Especially if you see prisoners or sick people on the list.” And I heeded his fatherly advice and began to question the people.” Father Vasily's view of the Soviet period is sharply negative: the Bolsheviks, in his opinion, became a huge disaster for the country. At the same time, his love for people and his knowledge of people’s life suggested that his captivity to communist ideology was temporary. Just as the Russian people did not fit into either the Tatar clothes or the Polish kuntush, one day they had to give up the commissar’s jacket.

This is the difference between the views of Father Vasily Ermakov and the anti-Soviet people - connoisseurs of a certain “real Russia” and “white cause”, adherents of theories about the radical degeneration and death of the people’s soul. From Father Vasily, these figures borrowed the rejection of lies as the basis of Bolshevism, but they shied away from the main thing that the priest had and that is in the Law of God: mercy and sacrifice for one’s neighbors - the country and compatriots.

Russian at heart

Saving the souls that came to him meant for Father Vasily the same as saving Russia; loving Russia meant loving and caring for everyone who came to him. Father did not understand and did not accept religious arrogance and individualism, in which a Christian presents himself as separate from the destinies of the country and people, a bearer of unearthly interests, “Christianity without nations and borders.” “We must love Russia,” he exhorted as best he could. However, Father Vasily would never take part in rallies in squares and in congresses of political parties. The most patriotic projects for saving the country mean nothing without the internal transformation and enlightenment of a person.

“We must love Russia...” Simple words. However, for those who remember Father Vasily, they are tantamount to a testament, a moral compass regarding events and opinions. In the 1990s, the priest was acutely worried about the confusion that covered society with an avalanche of examples of low-grade Western mass culture. For him, who for decades dreamed of living to see the liberation of his homeland from communism, it was painful to see Russia in collapse. The priest spoke approvingly of Yeltsin’s departure and the start of the activities of the then young President Putin. According to the memoirs of Muscovite Alexander Erokhin, he pinned certain hopes on Putin, expecting the rapid strengthening of Russia. “And when suddenly everything unfolded,” the narrator sums up, “and the president started talking about national dignity, Orthodoxy, and the fact that our history did not begin in 1917, I was happy: “Father, dear, how right you were.” , you believed!”

Father saw his goal as raising, as he said, “sharpened Christians.”

Father saw his goal as raising, as he said, “sharpened Christians,” people who would not become toys in the games of outside forces. Father Vasily’s understanding of the Gospel virtues is not sentimental. Least of all would he approve of the behavior of a melancholic believer and a weakling believer. Father Vasily believed that it is possible to give in in personal matters, but where it concerns the truths of faith handed down to us, a Christian can and should be firm. His commandment to spiritual children: “If you are insulted, you do not need to bow your head. You need to defend your faith with a sense of inner righteousness, without anger.”

The same applies to the benefit of the Fatherland: a true Christian conscience and Christian responsibility, of course, do not accept any ultimatums from Russia to “pay and repent” or attempts to put pressure on feelings from the outside.

Message to the future

The priest lived a difficult life, full of difficulties. But he considered the coming period even more spiritually difficult. His experience suggested that the new tests would surpass those of the Soviet era. “I do not envy those who have come to the Church these days,” he directly admitted, “there are a lot of temptations and very few experienced confessors, and they are becoming fewer and fewer. Look, in Pechory: Father John, Father Theophan, and other elders will leave, who will replace them?”

His soul ached for the children - for the generation of future parishioners and clergy that should come to replace him. He considered oversight and lack of determination to be one of the main reasons for the failure of upbringing in families: “Why are children bad? Parents allow their children everything, they send their children to the streets.” Father preferred traditional, proven methods to any newfangled theories. “There is no need to update anything,” he said, “to at least learn to educate in the old way.”

The priest foresaw the coming crisis. He prepared, strengthened those around him, convincing them not to be embarrassed by global events. “When hard times come,” he said, “don’t let it scare us. We must firmly know, like the “Our Father,” that our Lord Jesus Christ will not leave us in difficult times. Being closer to the temple is our duty, Orthodox people.”

“A priest has one privilege - to be a servant to everyone he meets”

Until the end of time, despite external changes and difficulties, this rule will remain unchanged. Whatever the circumstances, everyone must continue to do their job: the priest - to teach and instruct, parishioners, community members - to take care of the temple and love worship, spouses - to build their home on the foundations of faith, parents - to fight for the correction and moral development of their children. Anyone who saw and remembers the priest knows that he carried out his service as a confessor and performer of the Sacraments like a sentry at a strategically important post. “If you don’t have such an attitude - to dedicate your whole life to serving people - then do something else, don’t dare to take on the yoke of Christ,” he warned those thinking about accepting holy orders.

He passed on his constancy and courage to everyone around him. “Father Vasily was an example for all of us,” recalls Mikhail Shishkov. - In faith, in love, in service, in sacrifice, etc. He taught by example how this can be achieved. And we, as students, absorbed and tried and are trying to bring it to life, each to the best of our ability.” This is his main message to the laity and fellow priests: “Many people think that a priest has some kind of privilege or special grace over the laity. I will say this: a priest has one privilege - to be a servant to everyone he meets 24 hours a day for the rest of his life. This is what the Lord and the Gospel require of us.”

Mitred Archpriest, Rector of the Church of St. Seraphim of Sarov at the Seraphim cemetery in St. Petersburg, a friend of His Holiness Patriarch Alexy II, he was considered one of the most authoritative shepherds 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 was ending. It was the second month of Yulia's stay in St. Petersburg. I couldn’t help but like this city: the amazing warmth and responsiveness of the people, the special architecture of St. Petersburg and the unusual climate, and the leisurely life, compared to the bustling capital of the capital. I also liked the work. 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 a major publishing house. This was useful not only for gaining experience, which is necessary for everyone, and even more so for a beginner. On that day, an event occurred that our heroine remembers as the guidance of God.

While talking with the editor-in-chief, Yulia could not help but notice on one of the walls a beautiful canvas depicting the famous St. Petersburg temple.

“Don’t look at the beauty and interior decoration, pay attention to the priest and the parish,” the editor advised, “and, you know, I’ll recommend you two churches.” One in Kronstadt - Vladimirsky, the rector there is Father Svyatoslav Melnik; the other is here, 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 there for the evening service: it was very close, just a few stops from home.

The temple at the Serafimovskoye Cemetery looks like a fairy-tale tower or a gingerbread house, and that’s why there is somehow a childish joy in the soul.

From the very beginning of Vespers, Yulia drew attention to the old priest: he walked leisurely with a censer, and every now and then people came up for the priest’s blessing. “What kind of unceremoniousness and impatience,” Yulia thought displeasedly, “can’t we wait until the end of the service, they’ll only distract the priest.”

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 burned the incense at the beginning of the service,” said Yulina’s niece Ksenia.

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

– So this is our dear father, mitred 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 services now, he, our dear one, is often sick.

Yulia noticed that this church had a particularly friendly and even 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, some were talking among themselves. So fifteen minutes passed. “Time passes, why is everyone just standing there? Let me go up to that person. He appears to be a security guard. By the way, why is there a security guard here? Protect from whom?” Julia began to get angry.

– Please tell Father Vasily that they are waiting for him here.

- And he knows.

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

“Aunt Yulia, if Father isn’t there in ten minutes, we’ll leave,” Ksyusha said. Yulia herself began to feel cold from the cold St. 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 towards their beloved shepherd. Julia also came up for the blessing.

- You'll come home! – these words of Father Vasily were spoken only to Yulia.

The priest continued to communicate with those who approached.

- Aunt Yulia, what does this mean: will you come home? – asked Ksenia.

“Really, I need to ask Father Vasily,” Julia thought and went up to the priest again. He was about to get into the car, the driver opened the door to help the priest sit down.

– Father Vasily, when can I talk to you?

– I’ll be at the temple tomorrow from five in the morning.

Yulia and Ksenia rode in the minibus in silence, each thinking about their own things.

The next day, May 9, Julia rose before dawn. There were people in the temple, despite the day off and early hour. The Liturgy was held 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 church was crowded. Mitred Archpriest Vasily Ermakov served.

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

Alas, there was no point in thinking about approaching the priest: he was completely surrounded by people. Father Vasily went out for a while, and then returned to the temple again. There was no way to talk to him.

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

– Have you agreed to talk with him?

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

– Why didn’t you come to this time? Father is sick, often spends a long time in the hospital, and it is now very difficult to find him in church. Well, don’t worry, pray, when you need to meet, the Lord will guide you.

And indeed, the meeting took place. At the right choir, Yulia saw Father Vasily. The next moment the woman was already standing nearby and waiting for her turn to talk with the priest. She was invited without a queue.

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

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

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

It was later, having rethought a lot of things, that Yulia understood why Father Vasily took her with him everywhere, talking with people. Shortly before this, our heroine experienced a difficult period of betrayal; It seemed to her that few people had ever experienced anything worse than what they had done to her. Gradually, she began to withdraw, constantly feeling sorry for herself, and with those around her she became unfriendly, angry, and callous.

Together with Father Vasily they went out to the porch. People were waiting for the priest and immediately began vying with each other to ask questions. Almost everyone received answers immediately. Yulia noticed that the priest was affectionate and smiling with most people, but several times he answered strictly, even harshly.

Julia saw these two women early in the morning before the liturgy. One of them had a scarf on her head - nothing surprising: it was windy and damp outside, but somehow it was wrapped strangely - only the woman’s eyes were visible. When Father Vasily and the accompanying crowd caught up with 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 this way?

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 was unwinding a long scarf.

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

Yulia clearly remembered that the priest pushed the woman away and did not even touch her head.

Yulia met Father Vasily for the third time 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 answer her for sure whether Father Vasily would be in church today or not.

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

There are only a few people in the temple yet; Julia proceeded to the administrative building. To the people, to the people! And Father Vasily is here, but don’t come up: everyone wants to talk to the priest. Time inexorably rushes forward, and now the bell has already rung for Vespers. Father Vasily headed towards the temple, people surrounded him on all sides.

“No, we won’t be able to say goodbye,” Yulia was upset. The priest stopped, and the woman was very close 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 enough to bring my books too.”

Returning, Natalya gave what she had brought to the priest, and he gave everything to Yulia with his blessing.

“This is for you, but here are 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 as usual, only now Julia knew that there was a very close and spiritually dear person to her - Elder Vasily.

An early call from a friend in 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 met with cloudy weather, frost and piercing wind. There was 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 nearby and those standing far behind, and those who will soon enter the chapel to say goodbye to Father Vasily, in these hours became one huge family.

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

It’s sad that the elder-adviser, friend, father will no longer be around, but I believe 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 wondrous name “Consolation or Consolation.” Yes, yes, yes, Father Vasily had a gift for consoling.

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

I really want 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.

It’s difficult for me to write about Father Vasily Ermakov. There are so many things that you have experienced that you cannot tell strangers about. And you will have to answer for every word. I look at his gentle face looking at me from the photograph above my desk, and read the reproach in his gaze. Oh, my undone... But so much could have been done under his guidance.

I learned about Father Vasily from my colleagues - director of the popular science film studio Dmitry Delov and cameraman Sergei Levashov. By that time they had been going to St. Seraphim Church for several years. When there was a need for spiritual advice, I went to the Pskov-Pechersk Monastery to see Fathers Adrian and John Krestyankin. But in most cases he acted of his own free will.

“Why do you go to Pechory, when Father John himself blessed all St. Petersburg residents to go to Father Vasily on Serafimovskoye!” my seminarian friends and “academicians” reproached me. (At that time I mainly went to the Lavra and the seminary church).

After some time, Inna Sergeeva, who was working in the kitchen at the Seraphim Church, said that Father Vasily was waiting for me. I took it as a joke. Two years passed, and Inna reminded me of this again.

How can he wait for me when I have never seen him? Am I Nathanael under the fig tree?

Go ahead and find out.

After some hesitation, I still went to Serafimovskoye. I was curious to find out why the priest was waiting for me, but there was another reason. I became friends with the late Father Mikhail Zhenochin, and he invited me to his place in Gdov, where he was building a temple. He also called young people who declared themselves Cossacks: there was a border where they could be useful, and there was plenty of land - they could rebuild and create a Cossack village, which could become the center of the revival of the Cossacks: with a summer camp and a spiritual and educational center. Local people were indifferent to the faith, and Father Mikhail wanted to create a core of St. Petersburg residents around which a parish and interesting parish life could be organized. But there were no people willing to leave St. Petersburg for the provinces. I really wanted to support Father Mikhail and even bought a hut next door to him. The places there are wonderful and familiar to me. Nearby, the church is the only thing left of the Kyarov estate, which belonged to Count Konovnitsyn, a hero of the War of 1812.

Father Roman Matyushin served there for several years. I visited him and listened to the songs he had just written. Across the river are the ruins of the estate of the Dondukov-Korsakov princes. Five miles away is Lake Peipsi. The mushroom and berry forest began right outside the village. I was actually planning to move there. My wife said that for such a serious matter it was necessary to take a blessing from an experienced priest, and we went to Father Vasily.

He greeted us as if he had really been waiting for several years. He ordered to forget about Gdov: “What do you want there? Come to me. And there’s a lot to do.”

This is how we became “Seraphim’s”. We lived in Kupchino. The road to the Seraphim Temple was long. Travel with two transfers. The children are small. We had to take food, spare clothes and everything that the kids might need. I grumbled: “Why torture children? There is a crush in the temple - you won’t be able to squeeze through. If I have any questions, I’ll go and get advice.” But the wife was adamant. She assured me that I needed to go to Father Vasily for services. And we went. Our new acquaintances unanimously said that for those who go to Father Vasily, life certainly gets better. Through his prayers, people are healed and delivered from all sorts of troubles. Our friend’s husband returned to her after leaving her with two children. She practically did not leave the temple for several years. Father told her: “Go and pray. Your robber will return."

The priest had a special gift of showing love in such a way that a person not only felt this love, but was also sure that the priest loved him more than others. It seemed that way to me too. When I appeared in the church, the priest winked at me and announced to the entire confessional: “Bogatyrev has appeared. Here he is - the hero of the Russian land.” I was embarrassed every time. The Lord did not reward me with strength, and I do not live up to my last name. Moreover, in childhood and adolescence there were often those who wanted to try in practice what kind of hero I was. I didn't like to fight. I could never hit a person in the face. And my heroism was often put to shame. And after such a greeting from my father, I felt like an impostor and felt awkward. People who came to the priest much earlier than me did not hide their irritation, seeing in me an upstart who did not deserve the priest’s special attention. Meanwhile, I was introduced to the “inner circle” - invited to the altar and to participate in tea and meals.

I had complex feelings about this. It was a shame, but it flattered my vanity, but I felt even greater shame because much of what was going on in the kitchen irritated me. Women standing in the kitchen, with the doors to the altar open, could stick their heads into the altar during the service and say something quite loudly to the priest. And the priest did not scold them for this, did not impose penance. It also irritated me that this “inner circle” took up a lot of my father’s time with empty conversations while crowds of people with real troubles and problems stood in the yard. Some came from other cities. The questions from those “close to me” were often completely empty. One day, an elderly woman who knew Father Vasily from the time of his ministry in St. Nicholas Cathedral, interrupting everyone, loudly asked: “Father, which tram will you bless me to take home?”

Take the forty.

The questioner suddenly began to sob loudly. Apparently, there was another number in my heart.

Later I realized that after the service the priest just needed to relax with old acquaintances. With them he could relax. Serious conversations required a lot of mental and physical strength. And there was less and less strength left. Sometimes he would sit on the sofa in the sacristan and immediately begin to snore. But several minutes passed, and the loud voice of one of the altar boys or deacons woke him up. I was always upset that the people around the priest did not take care of his sleep. After an interrupted short sleep, he got up and rushed about his business, without reproaching or scolding anyone. He often appeared at the temple at six in the morning and left late in the evening. During the break between services I talked with the people.

One could often hear the phrase pronounced with contrition: “I teach you, I teach you, but it’s all to no avail.” Many did not understand: what is he teaching us? And the essence of his teaching was not how to prepare for communion and how many canons to read, but in instilling in a person the understanding that the Church is

Mother. And without Her there is no salvation in this world. He instilled a living sense of faith. He was strict with some. Sometimes to the extreme. He showed condescension towards others, realizing that unbearable burdens could turn them away from the path of salvation.

Father often gave advice in a humorous manner. He gave the following blessing to a new parishioner who wanted to read the Psalter every day: “You, mother, remember: in the morning - the morning rule, and in the evening - the evening rule. And be careful not to mix it up.”

If he saw a proud person in a person and felt that he would not follow his advice, the priest could answer the questions asked quite sharply: “How should I know? You are a scientist, and I am a country man. Why ask me? You know everything yourself."

The husband of Tamara Globa’s sister (who was not Globa, but Treskunova, an assistant on the film based on my script) complained to me about Father Vasily. He waved his hand at his ranting and sent him away. The priest had no time for intellectual chatter, the purpose of which was to establish himself in atheism or some kind of humanistic stupidity. He joked with great pleasure about the pride and impenetrability of “learned men.” And he really appreciated a good joke. But only if she wasn't vulgar. "Hell is worthy of all ridicule." Therefore, the priest rejoiced like a child when he managed to hurt the enemies of the Church. He himself often made fun of bores and people who believed that he would pray for them, and they no longer needed to do anything for their own correction.

They constantly told me that I had to make a film about the priest, and to begin with I filmed several of his services. But when I tried to photograph Father Vasily in a relaxed atmosphere, he always either waved his hands and ordered the filming to stop, or became unnaturally important. The priest could not be forced to “sing in a voice other than his own.” There was no need to ask him to discuss theological topics. Father himself said about himself that he was a “practitioner.” The phenomenon of his ministry lay in prayer for the children entrusted to him. It was necessary not to organize filming - he would get confused and lose his naturalness when the camera was aimed at him, but to spy on how he communicated with people. But he did not allow this at that time. Cameras in the temple appeared much later. In recent years, sometimes the priest was photographed by several dozen of our parishioners and “non-users” who came to him for advice. Still, I managed to visit him in his homeland and film him in a natural setting.

We met without an agreement in Optina Pustyn. He came there from Bolkhov with Oryol relatives. A mutual friend of ours, a nun from Moscow, settled next to the monastery. She invited us for tea after Sunday liturgy. Among the invitees was a certain Mykola, who came to Optina from Poltava. He went through fire, water and all known musical instruments. By nature he was a very businesslike person, he easily came up with and carried out adventurous things, and the result pretty soon ended up drinking and playing truant. This life devastated him. Having lost interest in her, he, on someone’s advice, came to Optina Pustyn. But for a long time he could not understand why adults stand for hours listening to monastic singing. A lot of time passed before he confessed for the first time. But that didn't help either. He sat with us at the table, listening with surprise to our conversation.

Why are you silent Mykola? - Father Vasily asked him.

Yes, I'm listening. And I think,” he replied.

Maybe ask what you want? - continued the father. - I see you have a lot of questions.

Yes, you will answer my questions until the morning,” Mykola grinned.

Well, let's talk until the morning. “Come with me to my homeland,” the priest unexpectedly suggested. - You're not doing anything here anyway.

Mykola was silent for several minutes, then decisively shook his head: “Let’s go.”

Well, you too, Sashka, come with us,” Father Vasily unexpectedly turned to me.

I didn't have to be persuaded. Mykola and I left the hut.

What kind of batek is this? - he asked me.

I told him that the Lord had looked upon him and sent him exactly the one who would enlighten him and change his life.

Mykola shrugged his shoulders incredulously and spoke about the displeasure of many monks with the priest. The fact is that Father Vasily gave a sermon after the service in which he denounced some young monks who imagined themselves to be experienced confessors. Father knew many cases when, due to the excessive severity of such monks, people fell into despair and stopped going to Church altogether. Those who waged a fierce fight against the INN also got it from the priest.

I promised to comment on this story along the way.

We left in two cars. Father Vasily's relatives are on one. Father Vasily and Mykola and I are in Mykola’s Skoda. A whole crowd of St. Petersburg residents who happened to be in Optina that day were waiting for us at the gate. Some began to ask to join us. Everyone wanted to go with the priest to his homeland.

You will see my homeland again,” the priest promised.

And so it happened. A few years later, the spiritual children of Father Vasily began to come to Bolkhov in whole buses.

We were sitting in the car when the priest suddenly ordered us to stop. He went out and headed towards a group of military men walking towards the monastery. I hurried after him. The priest resolutely stood in their way and, smiling joyfully, uttered a long tirade, from which the military were literally taken aback. These were generals and colonels of the medical service. It was difficult to recognize Father Vasily as a priest: his beard was short, his haircut, unlike the monks scurrying around everywhere, was also short. Dressed in a skimpy raincoat from the fifties. On his head is an unsightly hat from the same era. Worn down rough boots from the Skorokhod factory. What kind of person?! Local Kozelsk grandfather - and that’s all. And this grandfather joyfully tells them: “You are walking on the right road, comrades. The commissars blocked it from you for a long time. And you are great! Follow it always. Be real soldiers of Christ. Then no enemy will defeat you. You are younger than me. You don't know war. And I know. And I know that without God we would not have seen victory. As soon as the communists opened churches, they stopped retreating. And you never give up. Trust in God! He will never let you down!”

The military doctors listened to Father Vasily, shifting from foot to foot. They were terribly similar to each other: short, with identical bellies and all, like one, completely without necks. Perhaps there were necks, but they retracted them out of fear. In the early nineties, they didn’t talk to the military like that. Father Vasily blessed them with a wide cross and said goodbye to each one by hand. They obediently extended their hands to him, but it was clear that their embarrassment intensified even more. Generals usually give their hand first. If they serve it at all...

First we stopped in Shamordino. The nuns recognized the priest, and literally a minute later the joyful abbess walked towards us. She took us to the temple and told us about the difficulties that we constantly have to face when restoring the monastery. We went to the monastery cemetery. We were shown the grave of Leo Tolstoy's sister. Father sang “Rest with the Saints.” We pulled up as best we could along with the nuns. We went down to the source. Then the nuns took the priest away from us for a whole hour. There were many who wanted to receive spiritual advice. Mykola and I walked back along the road, chose a point, and I took pictures of the beautiful views. The road to Shamordino lies on the top of a high hill, from which endless distances open. The hill itself encircles the spacious valley in a wide arc. Below, a river with willow trees along its banks winds like a silver snake. Behind it, to the very horizon, are meadows with neat haystacks. A monastery with a peaked temple crowned the right edge of the picture that opened before us, and it seemed that this entire landscape was invented solely to emphasize its grandeur and beauty.

Then we drove for a long time along gentle hills covered with birch forests. The white trunks seemed transparent against the blue sky. We drove up to Belev - the birthplace of the poet Zhukovsky. Sad picture. Shabby gray houses, long forgotten about the existence of painters and plasterers. Destroyed churches. Huge holes in the middle of the main street. The asphalt ended long ago, and beyond Belev the dirt road practically stopped. Mykola moaned and mumbled as his new Skoda hit the bottom of potholes: “How long will it take to drive like this?” - he plaintively asked Father Vasily.

Be patient, Kolya,” the priest laughed. - During the war, the Germans, in their “Willis” and “Horchs”, were very interested in this matter.

While the road was still passable, Mykola asked Father Vasily various questions, from which it became clear that he had no idea either about the Church or about spiritual life. Father very soon got tired and, hearing another ridiculous question, nodded to me: “Well, tell him.”

I tried to laugh it off. But if it was appropriate to talk about something seriously, then he answered seriously. The catechesis turned out to be fun and it lasted without a break for 10 days, because after Bolkhov I invited Mykola to my place in St. Petersburg.

At one place the priest asked me to stop. We left and went down to the apple orchard. I have never seen such abundance before. The branches of the apple trees bent low from the weight of the huge fruits. The whole earth was strewn with apples. Father picked up several especially large apples and began to bite into them one by one. I followed his example. Sweet, juicy. Father sighed heavily: “Where is the owner? We are already bringing apples from Holland and Israel, but our own are disappearing”...

We arrived in Bolkhov late. We drank tea and sandwiches and began to settle down for the night. Mykola and I were assigned a separate place. The priest himself lay down with his niece’s husband on an uncomfortable one-and-a-half bed with an armored mesh. All my attempts to let me lie down on the floor ended with my father’s strict order to “lie down where you’re told and don’t contradict me.” The first night I couldn't sleep. It was terribly awkward. Poor father! Such an uncomfortable bed, and even for two. But the priest fell asleep pretty quickly. And his neighbor was also willing to sleep in Spartan conditions.

In the morning we went to the cemetery to bow to my father’s parents. He did not serve the lithium, prayed quietly and led us up the street leading to the local “worship mountain.” There, on a platform with huge concrete letters spelling out the name of the city “Bolkhov,” we spent a long time looking at the city that lay below us. I counted seven churches along with the ruins of the Trinity Optina Monastery, which stood outside the city on a high hill. But it seems there were other churches. They are simply not visible from the point where we were. Father Vasily began to show the place where the Germans drove him along with other Bolkhov residents to dig trenches. He talked about how our troops retreated, leaving the city to the mercy of fate. There was no evacuation except for the families of the bosses. Instead of distributing food supplies to the abandoned population, they were ordered to burn them.

Then we returned to the city, crossed the river along the suspension bridge and went towards the Trinity Optina Monastery. Walking through the streets where he went to school and church, he showed the places where the neighborhood hooligans stood and bullied him. They called him "butt." It seems that the matter did not end with just insults. But he didn’t tell us the details. Beyond the river there was a series of hills separated by ravines. We climbed the nearest one, which offered a wonderful view of the part of Bolkhov from where we came, where the parental house of Father Vasily stood.

Father stood for a long time, indulging in memories. He talked about his neighbors, showing who lived where and what he remembered. Times were hard. Neighbors in trouble often came to his father for advice. The house was always crowded. From then on, the priest got used to listening to the “voice of the people”, going into details and the essence of the problems. Since childhood, he learned about need and human grief. He knew firsthand about the repressions and atrocities of the godless government. Priests and active parishioners were arrested. Many people disappeared without any explanation. Showing where the mill stood, where there were shops on the street going down to the river from the cathedral square, the priest swayed and almost stepped on a curled up hedgehog. For more than half an hour he laughed, looked at the hedgehog wrapped in yellow leaves, and carefully touched it with the toe of his shoe so that it would turn around and run. But he only snorted and remained in the same position. Something happened to my camera and I couldn't capture this amazing scene. It's a pity! Oh, what a pity! Father was so cheerful, he began to tell me something about his childhood, which, unfortunately, I did not remember. Looked younger before my eyes. And if before that he walked with difficulty (I was afraid that he would not reach the monastery), then after this meeting with the hedgehog he walked cheerfully, almost skipping.

At the ruins of the monastery cathedral, the priest’s mood changed. He became sad. Yes, and there was a reason. There were holes inside the cathedral - Komsomol members were looking for treasures. The walls were torn and covered with obscene inscriptions. The crosses have been knocked down. The burdock thickets came close to the walls. Truly an abomination of desolation.

The priest walked for a long time, sighing: “Nothing will come of them with their reconstruction until they repent and restore the destroyed churches. God cannot be mocked!”

Now, looking at the restored monastery, it is difficult to imagine what situation it was in 20 years ago.

In the evening, Mykola and I helped the priest pick apples in the garden. There were 2 bags. How to deliver them to St. Petersburg? I invited Mykola to come visit me and at the same time get some apples for the priest. He promised to show him the city, take him to Blessed Xenia and Father John of Kronstadt, and most importantly, that he would attend the priest’s service and get acquainted with the community of the Seraphim Church. To my surprise, Mykola immediately agreed. He said that he had already talked with Father Eli several times, and now it would be nice to compare the two elders. His reasons were unclear. He absolutely did not understand how he could give up worldly pleasures and believed that he would find a confessor who would allow him to have fun with the young ladies and do something for the Church. What exactly, he had difficulty imagining.

We stayed in Bolkhov for three and a half days. We attended services in two churches operating at that time. In the Church of the Nativity of Christ at the all-night vigil. Father Vasily Verevkin served in this church before the war. This priest played a very important role in the life of the priest. Under his leadership, he took his first steps in the Church. With him, young Vasya Ermakov was driven away by the Germans to Estonia, where he found a second teacher - who actually saved his life. It was Father Mikhail Ridiger. Father Vasily maintained a lifelong friendship with his son, the future Patriarch Alexy II. But this is a special story.

And in Bolkhov we celebrated the liturgy in the Vvedenskaya Church. The priest served with the rector - the young father Peter with many children.

This church was remembered for the fact that it housed a wooden statue of St. Nicholas, moved from the cathedral and even by a choir of four ancient old women. They sang in such pitiful, rattling voices that it seemed like they were about to give up the ghost. And they had a special chant - vaguely similar to the everyday unknown ninth Bolkhov voice for not so much those who sing as those who cry pitifully.

After the service, the singers, together with other old women, spent a long time overpowering the priest. He was glad to see faces familiar from childhood. Then we went to the Sunday fair. On the way, the priest talked about how much he loved Bolkhov - the city of churches. He lamented that the current people have lost faith and do not feel the need for the temples that their ancestors erected. I asked him “wouldn’t he like to spend the last years of his life in his homeland?” He sighed heavily: “How can you leave my St. Petersburg children”...

Father Vasily did not need anything at the fair. He just wanted to look at his fellow countrymen. He talked to traders of food and household goods, pretended to ask the price, but did not buy anything. He walked along the rows for quite a long time. Mykola was languishing, looking longingly at the beer stall. But we agreed that we would not drink anything alcoholic in Bolkhov.

We were planning to go to Spas-Chekryak, where Father George Kosoe, canonized, served, but these plans were not destined to come true. Some people appeared who had heard about the priest’s arrival. The next day we consecrated the house of the Bolkhovites who had returned from the north. Then a six-month-old girl was baptized at home. I read “The Apostle” and sang along with the priest.

That’s it, let’s come back, I’ll make a deacon out of you,” Father Vasily declared his will to me.

But I had to forget about the trip to Spas-Chekryak. The niece told Father Vasily about some family matters that required an early return to Oryol.

Father, his niece and her husband went to Orel, and Mykola and I, in his Skoda loaded with Bolkhov apples, went to St. Petersburg with a stop at the Tver village where my wife lived with her daughters. Almost all the way, Mykola talked about the thriftiness and ability to live of the “Khokhlovs” and the worthlessness of the “Muscovites”. Pointing to the rickety huts that stood along the road, he said: “Hey, Muscovites, you could build your own huts and live quietly. What a life!” But when the halabuds gave way to St. Petersburg palaces, it subsided. But here I gave free rein to my thoughts about the friendship of peoples, about the crime of politicians, about the tragic rupture of a single organism, about the readiness to lie under our enemies, and about the ability to “row to the bottom,” where both Crimea and Novorossiya fell under the mute. I said all this in a joking manner, but my guest was “pouting.”

He liked it in St. Petersburg. Father greeted him like an old friend, treated him kindly and publicly declared that “everything will be very good with the servant of God Nikolai.”

This promise was fulfilled. Mykola is now a respected person - Nikolai Emelyanovich - the owner of a hotel near Optina Pustyn. He lives as a master in a huge house. He built a whole village, which brought together excellent workers - relatives and Poltava acquaintances. He has a fat herd of dairy cows and bulls, tens of hectares of black soil. But the main thing is that through his efforts, the Church of Elijah the Prophet was restored, where Optina priests come to serve on the patronal feast with several buses of pilgrims. Below the temple, Emelyanich cleared the spring and built a bathhouse. They say the water in it is holy, and cases of healing have already been noted.

But bad luck happened to me. I did not become a deacon. Of course, because of your sins. And I turned out to be a weakling. Upon arrival from Bolkhov, the priest established a sequence when I was supposed to read the hours and the apostle. I met unexpected opposition. The readers showed in every possible way their dissatisfaction with the appearance of a competitor, and one priest taught me such a lesson in “Christian love” that I did not appear in the Seraphim Church for a long time. When I reappeared and told Father Vasily about the reason for my disappearance, he sighed bitterly: “Eh, you... I couldn’t stand it. What did you think, they would greet you with sweets and bouquets? And how they drove me! One could escape from Kuzmich to Antarctica.” (Kuzmich was an informer from the special services with the rank of elder).

He waved his hand: “Come on, get rid of your pride. Who told you that everyone would love you and pat you on the head? The Kingdom of Heaven is in need. And you think that life is a Central Park of Culture and Culture with carousels and swings...”

He made no more talk about the deaconry. He ordered not to make a film about him for now: “Otherwise it will be for us both from the brethren and from the false brethren.”

For some time he did not allow anyone except Lyudmila Nikitina to film himself, but after a few years it became impossible to fight the video cameras. And the priest stopped paying attention to them. He ordered me to collect material: “Then we’ll see what to do with it.”

I didn’t become a deacon, but my life really got better. Somehow we got out of poverty unnoticed. One day the priest was reading notes at the altar. One of them contained 500 rubles. With the devaluation that was raging then - pennies. Father handed me this bill, winked and ordered: “Save the money!” Since then, at the very least, we have not gone hungry for a single day. There was enough for everything. I am sure that through the priest’s prayers we received an apartment in the city center in a nomenklatura building. There was no chance, but we got it. There was one more disaster that was avoided. I was slandered and could have been imprisoned for 4 years for organizing a protest against the dismissal of a wonderful person from my job.

The mistress of a very big boss was aiming to take his place. And I found myself in a situation: a punitive machine was spinning, and only a miracle could stop it. And a miracle happened.

My gratitude and love for my father is great, but my repentance is also immense because I have upset him many times. He liked my opuses, and he constantly said: “Keep it up! Smash the fascist tramp! Write more!

But I wrote little. And the prayer book did not leave me. Unless I start working harder in the remaining time allotted to me.

Forgive me, father, the accursed one.