“What – I ask – where are we going?” “Yes, the cemetery was here before. And now the road is paved straight”. “How? – I’m surprised – it’s the bones of your ancestors, how did them go? Here’s a skull under the wheel Peeps.” We asked the priests to talk about books that changed their lives. About their favorite works, says the priest Andrey Bliznyuk.
The Priest Andrey Bliznyuk. Photo: Facebook
- I “dumped” on Pasternak’s wife and wish she was my ideal
- The book lingers in me so that I have a doctor’s smock to cassock
- “One true gave me a complete denial of war and violence”
- “You’re a great man, sire! Forgive me for my licentiousness — you are a giant!”
I was already a priest when he suddenly became interested in the lives of our Holy missionaries. Studied the works of St. innocent (Veniaminov), Apostle of Siberia, which have enlightened the inhabitants of Kamchatka, the Aleutian Islands and North America. And then one day I was invited to Arkhangelsk to St. John readings. There I met a priest who defined my missionary movement to the North. It was Archpriest Alexei Denisov. His sister lived down on the river Mezen.
Knowing that I’m doing missionary work, he offered to help in organizing the trip to people who have been living without a priest, really need it and ask. Before I go, I became interested in who actually are mezentsy their ancestors. Wanted once to go to the people, then having an idea about their traditions, peculiarities of everyday life.
Then I remembered about the book Boris Shergin “Ancient memory”that I knew from the Soviet era. And here I read that one, another story, until I came across short – I must say that Shergin generally a master of short stories – “For entertainment”.
It seemed to me that simple as we, the city, talking, village, I felt an incredible depth, at the time I did not open and incomprehensible, even though I was a priest. I found the depth of such peace and peacefulness in the most severe emergencies, which never met and were not aware of.
This story is about two brothers-masenza Lichutina, who accidentally fell into a hopeless situation. Already in the autumn they were going to catch home, and the brothers were fishermen in the White sea, and spent the night on charge (rocky shoals), where, happened, stayed. Laid down their tackle and fish in the boat (a big boat for fishing) and in the morning had to go to the Mezen. The boat was in the water at anchor, and the brothers spent the night on the shore at the campfire. But at night there was a terrible change of wind. Sea storm was so strong that was torn from its anchors the boat with everything in it, and took in the White sea. Brothers got nothing on this stone bed. And this problem is neminuchaya.
Korga far defended from nautical paths, where the fall, no one went, so the brothers knew that will die. Their humble acceptance of fate, what they did after their behavior I was stunned and amazed. It struck and its belinostat, and powerful biblical scale.
Out of the Board where you cut up the fish, the brothers made themselves the tombstone epitaph. The Board was decorated with a pattern where in the carved scenes showed the circumstances of the death: a storm, like a boat drifting out to sea… they did it with knives-Klepiki, who always have Pomors on the belt.
I must say that the brothers were masters. Once in Arkhangelsk both worked at the shipyard and graced the court carved allegories. The epitaph had played masterfully and with inspiration and deep thoughtful meaning. Well, the text, of course, wrote. Brothers, it was important to tell us how they ended their life journey.
The inscription on the Board is impossible calmly and without tears to read. I have, so every time a tear welling up. On the one hand, they are terribly sorry. On the other – see their amazing understanding of life, secrets of death, which actually opened in these words.
“I left the knife on the Board to scribble incoherent words dying cry, – writes Shergin. But these two men – the Mezen burgers on the title – was inspired by the artists by vocation. Not a cry, not a curse the fate left the brothers Lichutina. They remembered his kind heart. Simple tabletop turned into a work of art. Instead of pine boards see carved tombstone high style:
Ship carpenters Ivan Andreanum
Here sonali earthly labors,
And on the fell,
Waiting for arangelovac pipe.
In the autumn of 1857
Gave the sea a formidable storm.
God’s judgment or his ploskoi
A lost boat with gear and supplies,
And we, brothers went to the local charge
Wait for the mortal hour.
To mind ammaniti from timeless boredom
To this Board we have made diligent hands…
Andrean was Uchitel frame thread for amusement;
Ivan wrote the chronicle for notifications
What we originally Lichutina, Grigoriev’s children
And remember we are all floating
In so far parts of the sea-ocean.”
This traditional Pomeranian verse. I then met when I was on Svalbard. There is also one “for the amusement” wrote a verse. However, the man had left for the winter, and it wintered for seven months under the Northern lights, and cut not on the Board, and from bone, including combs and comb. Of course, he knew that everything in God’s hands. And I realized then how much depth in this simple verse for the amusement. It’s kind of amazing respect to the acceptance of life and death!
Shergin he was Pomor, the singer of this existence, and in his story, not embellish anything, just generously shares her discoveries:
“Inexplicable, strange joy began to spread in the heart. Where to understand!.. Where to declare!.. Back to Maxim floated – silent. I was afraid not to sanity would not lose a heart would be fun. Yes, how to lose?!”
Just imagine, it’s described from grief, but at heart though flashed out, from the other side of Heaven, so light that it is a real gladness of heart. And now I understand all the moguchest nature, nature, nature coast-dwellers, their works of faith. They are waiting for arangelovac pipe!
It was all a discovery for me the understanding of life. After a short serginskiy story I so fell in love with coast-dwellers that decided to stay close by. Well, of course, to start just read Shergin. “Childhood in Arkhangelsk” – the textbook product, I recommend it everyone to read who about marriage and the family thinks.
Baptized and swears obscenities and drinking vodka
Was driving on the Mezen. Been there twenty times. And one of the most common surnames are still on the Mezen – Lichutina. And a book about Pomeranian’s modern life “Soul of the ineffable” wrote our contemporary – Vladimir Lichutin. It’s all in some way affected me. I was trying to find the depth of this Pomeranian character in his contemporaries. And found it even in people unbaptized.
In one expedition we had a driver, his name was Alexander. He took us by car via the Mezen villages. And we could not pay him for his trouble, after all he is from the family left for us. Just trying to give money, but he turns away saying: “You baptize, I drive you for free”.
– Well, Sasha, you all understand (and it is all our conversations were listened to during these trips), well, what are you not baptized? – I asked once.
– To be baptized, we must believe major! – he answered. – Vasily won, baptized, and obscenities and drinking vodka.
– Well, you believe, I feel.
– I’m not ready yet, father Andrew.
In this “you have to believe in capital” – the essence of the Pomeranian Outlook on life. It is incredible understanding that baptism is not just, but life change after you do this, others become. Without any catechisms, without Sunday school and of the law of God, he understands, because it is soaked Pomeranian in spirit, from ancestors he inherited.
On the other hand, it was sad to see the legacy of the Soviet era, when along with old Pomeranian crosses, and the fact that people remember the tradition, to this day there are strong owners, preserving the spirit of the Pomeranian, and there are those who took to drink and sank.
Here’s a skull under the wheel of lies
In one of the ancient villages where we have outlined the missionary meeting at the club, drove us to the car. The road was broken, we go slowly. Suddenly I see: from under the wheels of the bone peeking out. Track so deep into the ground, bones sticking out very clearly.
Stopped, staring, and the bones of the human.
– What is this – I ask – where are we going?
– Yes, the cemetery was here before. And now the road is paved straight.
– How? – I’m surprised – it’s the bones of your grandfathers, great-grandfathers, how did them go? Here’s a skull under the wheel of lies.
And I see that the driver was so surprised to my words, do not even understand what I mean… And when we reached the village, and there the people gathered, they say, want to be baptized, I was in a stupor.
– Not able to baptize you, I said nothing to them. You led a short journey through an old cemetery, where no fence, cross the fallen. But you know that this cemetery and the bones of your relatives…
– Well, Yes, but what to do? So the way to short – answer me.
– Until you agree, the road does not change, I baptize will not. Because such an attitude impossible to accept our faith. You remember Pushkin?
Love to the native ashes,
Love for fathers ‘ coffins.
They are based on century
By the will of God himself
The samostoyaniya man,
The pledge of its greatness…
Listened to me, agreed that it is wrong and such strong performances they had…
Teach us how to live underground
In another village, where I went, people gathered in the club, and it is located in the former Church. The village is big, the Pomeranian. There old Pomeranian crosses, well maintained. Nothing to complain about. And just as I started a conversation with them about the baptism of the conduct, like the grandfather, be bearded and gray Schukar (very much similar to of Sholokhov’s “virgin soil upturned”), shouted: “do Not teach us to live underground. We here in Soviet times twenty tractors, meat processing plant, dairy farm…”
“Excuse me,” I tell him, – I here do not see the connection between the loss of tractors and what I offer. To live under the ground doesn’t exactly offer. We are in the Kingdom of heaven is your name.
And then I realized that the coast-dwellers of their unyielding character, hard and thorough, intertwined with the Soviets, which gave a terrifying manifestation of cynicism. Shergin and it helped me a lot to understand what kind of people live there, not be afraid of those Soviet manifestations, because behind them lurks Pomeranian spirit and power. I was met everywhere.
This attack – “we do not need underground learn to live” – he know what? It is that man understands how to lead the party at the time when you have to work hard. He is confident that all the troubles, the sins and shortcomings of man – idleness.
And every time I knew that the meeting with Boris by Sergeym, his books did not happen by chance.
Troparion of the pre-revolutionary
Somehow in one nursing home I saw my grandmother. She sat and something singing softly. Well, I guess now we have the folklore from Marfy Andreevny on tape write. We asked her: “sing, Marfa Andreyevna?” – “I th, I, I sing a prayer” – meets. And we have loudly sang the troparion to the Cross “o Lord Save Thy people”, as it turned out, with the pre-revolutionary insert “the Emperor Nicholas Alexandrovich victory suprotivnyy giving”.
“I need to sing…” I tell her. “So as I my father taught, and sing,” he said.
And she was more than a hundred years! It’s in the Sunday school was before the revolution. And how the priest taught to sing the troparion, as she sings, and no it is not a decree.
When I visited her last years, she has lived her daughter. Although the nursing home on the Mezen wonderful, friendly and familiar environment, kindness and love prevails, but the daughter took to her mother, feeling that she herself have to live with it. And so I came to see her, but only once a year, to communion.
I remember sitting my Marfa Andreyevna at the tip of the iron cot behind the stove, she most of the time is spent in the same apron-apron, mittens. Sees me, says, “Oh, it’s you!”
I times a year just to come to Mezen and she was talking to me like we the day before yesterday broke up with her. And our conversation was always as if continuing an unfinished conversation. “…But I’m still not dying. Was hoping you could let me pricastie and I will go to the Lord. But, then, not yet”. So here it is for Pomorski to death treated. He lived for 104 years.