What I have been through, God forbid! At night you suddenly wake up, sometimes in fear and trembling. “What have you done,” he will whisper to me, “are you planning to be a monk? Stop before it's too late." And you fight, you fight ... Some kind of fear, some kind of incomprehensible horror fetters everything, then a whole revolt arose in the soul, a murmur, a kind of demonic hatred arose for the monks, for monastic clothes, even for the Lavra. I wanted to run, to run somewhere far, far away ... This struggle gave way to an extraordinary world and graceful consolation - that the Lord supported in the struggle.
The spiritual experiences of the newly tonsured monk, the future archbishop, the good shepherd of the Church, Hieromartyr Seraphim (Zvezdinsky) about the monastic tonsure in a letter to his brother:
Dear, my dear brother!
Christ is in our midst!
I have just received your warm, heartfelt letter, I hasten to answer. That warmth, that brotherly cordiality with which you write to me touched me to the depths of my soul. Thank you, my dear, for your congratulations and best wishes. You ask me to share with you my feelings that I lived before the time of my tonsure and the subsequent holy time. With the liveliest joy I fulfill your request, although it is not easy to fulfill it. How will I express what I have experienced and how my soul lives now, with what words will I express what has filled and fills my heart! I am so infinitely rich in heavenly, blessed treasures, given to me by the generous hand of the Lord, that the truth is not able to count even half of my wealth.
I'm a monk now! How scary, incomprehensible and strange it is! New clothes, a new name, new, hitherto unknown, never known thoughts, new, never experienced feelings, a new inner world, a new mood, everything, everything is new, all of me is new to the core. What a wondrous and supernatural action of grace! It melted everything in me, transformed everything ...
Understand, dear, me, the former Nicholas (how you don't want to repeat a worldly name!) Is no more, not at all, they have taken it somewhere and buried it deeply, so that even the smallest trace is gone. Another time you try to imagine yourself as Nikolai - no, it never works out, you strain your imagination to the very extreme, but you can't imagine the former Nikolai. As if I fell asleep in a sound sleep ... I woke up. I look around, I want to remember what happened before the moment I fell asleep, and I can't remember the previous state, as if someone had erased from consciousness, squeezing a completely new one into its place. There is only the present - the new, hitherto unknown, but the far future. A child born into the world does not remember its life in the womb, so here I am: the tonsure made me a baby, and I do not remember my worldly life, as if I was born just now, and not 25 years ago. Some memories of the past, fragments, of course, have been preserved, but there is no former essence, the soul itself is different. I am someone else, a different spirit, not me. I will tell you how gradually the grace of God led me to where I am now. This recollection is useful to me, for it will reinforce, cheer and inspire me when the world, as you say, is about to come to me.
I wrote to you that the inner decision to be a monk suddenly ripened and took root in my soul on August 27th. On September 4th, I verbally told the Abbot about my decision, it only remained to put the decision into execution. There was a decision - there was still no determination - a petition had to be made. And it was here that a fierce bloody struggle began, a whole spiritual tragedy. It was genuine “groaning and shaking” during this period of time before the petition was made. And there are also such naive fools who deny the existence of evil spirits. Now, if they had to cut their hair, they would have believed then. The evil one did not want to let me go like that.
God forbid what I had to go through! At night you suddenly wake up, sometimes in fear and trembling. “What have you done,” he will whisper to me, “are you planning to be a monk? Stop before it's too late. " And you fight, you fight ... Some kind of fear, some kind of incomprehensible horror fetters everything, then a whole revolt arose in my soul, a murmur, a kind of demonic hatred for monks, for monastic clothes, even for the Lavra arose. I wanted to run, to run somewhere far, far away ... This struggle was replaced by extraordinary peace and grace-filled consolation - then the Lord supported me in the struggle. It was these minutes of peace and blessed consolation that I called in a letter to you: "the only, holy, dear, golden minutes", and I kept silent about the minutes of struggle and trial then. On September 6, I decided to go to the Zosimov Monastery to see the elder in order to ask for a blessing to submit a petition. Something inside kept me out of there trying in every possible way to delay and stop. I prayed ... and drove off. I bought a ticket, and I was just about to get into the passenger car, when T. Filippova got out of one of the last passenger cars and headed straight towards me. I can not describe to you what happened to me, a whole swarm of feelings and thoughts arose in my soul: I wanted to cry, one by one the bright, tender-affectionate pictures of family life began to sweep through my mind, and at the same time gloomy, terrible pictures of monastic loneliness, melancholy and despondency ... Oh, how hard, hard it was! And there was a moment when I wanted (with pain and a repentant feeling I remember this) to abandon my decision, go up to her and talk. Of course, if it were not for the grace of God supporting me, I would have abandoned my decision, for it was scary. But no - the evil one was put to shame. Seeing T.F. coming towards me and so gloriously, sympathetically looking at me, I hastened to get into the passenger car soon as possible and disappeared there so that I could not see her. The train started moving.
In the Zosimov Hermitage, the elder was astonished and did not order to delay the petition any longer. "Otherwise," he said, "the enemy can still laugh." Thus, with the help of God, I won a brilliant victory in the most difficult struggle. Now that old hobby seems to me to be impassable stupidity, a trifle not worthy of attention. On September 10, I submitted a petition. September 26 is the day of tonsure. The time from the 10th to 26th passed quickly. During this period of time I felt as if I expected death to come. I said goodbye to everything worldly and said goodbye to everyone, and they said goodbye to me. I went to Moscow for one day, said goodbye to my nanny and all my friends. In a word, all the feelings of a dying person: anxiety, bewilderment, fear, and at the same time - joy and peace. And the closer the day of the tonsure got, the more the soul froze and trembled and worried, and the stronger were the gracious consolations. You know:
Finally, he came, this forever blessed and unforgettable day, September 26. I was in the Zosimov desert. At 5 o'clock in the morning I had to go to Posad. At 4 o'clock I, together with one of Zosimov's brother, left the hotel and went to the horse yard, where the horses were to be laid. Hegumen of the desert, Father German, rode with me. I'm waiting ... the forest is dozing around. Quiet, quiet ... One feels how eternal peace touches the soul, enters it, and the soul, which has suffered from the struggle, happily tastes this peace, the soul rests, Sabbaths. The great Abba appeared, gray-haired, thin, concentrated, deep, always praying incessantly. We set off. So we arrived at the station, and the train carried us to Posad. I was in Posad at 7 o'clock in the morning. I came to my room, looked around a bit and went to confession. Confession is so detailed - everything, my entire life from the age of 6.
The Lavra clock struck noon with regularity, majestically. Another 6-7 hours, and it's all over - tonsured. Oh, if you knew how dear to me every minute, every second was! As I tried to fill the time with prayer, or the reading of the Holy Fathers. However, reading hardly came to mind. Before dying, they say, a person involuntarily recalls his entire past life. So here I am: pictures one after another appeared in my mind: my hobbies, my illness, dad is affectionate, gentle, loving, kind, then I remembered: a small lamp flickered quietly ... Night .. I am in bed - the pain is over, I sit healed , I look at the image of Seraphim. Then lamp flickered in the same way, a sick father lay dying, and there was a coffin, candles by the coffin, a grave, sister, you, everything, everything came to mind. And what I felt, what I experienced only God knows.
At 3 o'clock the abbot came to me, began to encourage and console me, then novices came, some said goodbye to me like a dead man. And what a deep meaning in this parting: what they said goodbye to will not return anymore, for it is buried forever.
From 4 o'clock the languor began, my dear, it's scary to remember! A kind of continuous melancholy, a cloud, as if sucking something in the heart, languishing, gnawing, something gloomy, gloomy, hopeless, suddenly rolled up, and nowhere from any help, no consolation. So it will be only, you know, before death - the demon fought the last and most terrible struggle; do you believe, if not for the help of God, I would not have endured this struggle. This is where suicides happen. But the Lord is always close to a person, He looks at how He is struggling and hardly sees that a person is exhausted, as He immediately sends His gracious help. So, in the most decisive moments, I was allowed to experience complete abandonment, abandonment, abandonment, and then reinforcement was given. Suddenly it became clear, it became clear in my soul, peaceful. Seraphim so meekly and tenderly looked at me with his gentle, blue eyes (you know, a small image, from whom I received healing). Then I felt as if an electric current passed through my whole body - it was dad who came. I did not see him with bodily eyes, but in an unknown miraculous way, inwardly, spiritually I felt his presence. He touched my soul, for he himself is now a spirit; I heard his gentle voice, he encouraged me in these decisive moments, told me not to regret the world, for there is nothing attractive in it. And my soul was filled with extraordinary affection and gracious warmth; exhausted, I fell on my face before the icons and, like a child, I sobbed sweet, sweet tears. The Lavra clock struck half past five at that time. Peaceful, delighted, I began to read the Gospel. I opened to “Let your heart not be confused, believe in God, and believe in Me. In the house of My Father there are many abodes ... May your heart not be confused, not afraid ... I go and come to you, the prince of this world is coming and he has nothing in Me. But let the world understand, as I love the Father and as the Father commanded Me, I do this, rise up, let's go from here. " The temple bell struck. And this sound ... If you knew what was going on with the soul ... Then a soft knock was heard at the door of my cell: knock ... knock ... knock ...the door unlocked. It was a monk who came for me, my friend, Father Philip. "It's time, let's go."
We got up and prayed. To the dust of the earth I bowed down to the image of St. Seraphim, then we went. We ascended the stairs leading to the abbot's chambers passed through them and stopped in the last hall, from which was a passage to the church. In the hall it is twilight, the lamp is quietly flickering ... The door is half-open, you can hear them singing: "Lord, my God, you have become greatly exalted, you have clothed yourself with confession and command ... Wondrous are Thy works, O Lord." I entered the hall, looked around ... Here stood Fr. Christopher, I bowed at his feet, he bowed to me, and both shed tears, not saying anything to each other. Without words, everything was clear. Then I was left alone, a little to the side were screens, behind them a lectern, on it the image of the Savior, a burning candle. I stoon in underclothes. I look, there is a hair shirt on the chair.
Lord, where did I end up ? Who, what am I? It became scary, creepy. I had to undress. I took off everything, remained in what my mother had given birth to, put off the old man, put on a new one.
In a hair shirt I stood during an all-night vigil behind the screen in front of the image of the Savior. With hope and faith I gazed at the Divine face, and He, meek and humble in heart, gazed at me. And I felt good, peaceful and gratifying. You will look at yourself: you stand all white, a hair shirt to your heels, one such insignificant, undressed, barefoot, in the consciousness of this insignificance, this earthiness of yours, you rush down, fall down, put your head in your hands and ... lie like that ... and disappear, you are lost , and you are drowning in the Divine ... "Holy God, Holy Mighty, Holy Immortal, have mercy on us." With measured, stately, some kind of solemn steps a host of monks in hoods, in long robes, with lighted candles in their hands, approached me. I went out from behind the screen and they took me to the Sole, where the Reverend father was standing on the pulpit by the analogion with the cross and the Gospel.
" "Father's embrace open up to me," the choir sang softly, sadly. As soon as I entered the narthex, covered with robes, I fell prostrate on the floor - prostrate in the proper sense, my face touching the floor itself, my arms stretched crosswise ... then ... then ... I don't remember well what happened ... everything is how something got confused, everything in me was perplexed. Still fell, more ... suddenly, when I was lying at the pulpit, I heard: "Merciful God, like a child-loving Father, in vain your humility and true repentance, a child, like a prodigal son, accepts a penitent person and to Him from a falling heart." The Reverend father came up to me and lifted me up.
From 4 o'clock the languor began, my dear, it's scary to remember! A kind of continuous melancholy, a cloud, as if sucking something in the heart, languishing, gnawing, something gloomy, gloomy, hopeless, suddenly rolled up, and nowhere from any help, no consolation. So it will be only, you know, before death - the demon fought the last and most terrible struggle; do you believe, if not for the help of God, I would not have endured this struggle. This is where suicides happen. But the Lord is always close to a person, He looks at how He is struggling and hardly sees that a person is exhausted, as He immediately sends His gracious help. So, in the most decisive moments, I was allowed to experience complete abandonment, abandonment, abandonment, and then reinforcement was given. Suddenly it became clear, it became clear in my soul, peaceful. Seraphim so meekly and tenderly looked at me with his gentle, blue eyes (you know, a small image, from whom I received healing). Then I felt as if an electric current passed through my whole body - it was dad who came. I did not see him with bodily eyes, but in an unknown miraculous way, inwardly, spiritually I felt his presence. He touched my soul, for he himself is now a spirit; I heard his gentle voice, he encouraged me in these decisive moments, told me not to regret the world, for there is nothing attractive in it. And my soul was filled with extraordinary affection and gracious warmth; exhausted, I fell on my face before the icons and, like a child, I sobbed sweet, sweet tears. The Lavra clock struck half past five at that time. Peaceful, delighted, I began to read the Gospel. I opened to “Let your heart not be confused, believe in God, and believe in Me. In the house of My Father there are many abodes ... May your heart not be confused, not afraid ... I go and come to you, the prince of this world is coming and he has nothing in Me. But let the world understand, as I love the Father and as the Father commanded Me, I do this, rise up, let's go from here. " The temple bell struck. And this sound ... If you knew what was going on with the soul ... Then a soft knock was heard at the door of my cell: knock ... knock ... knock ...the door unlocked. It was a monk who came for me, my friend, Father Philip. "It's time, let's go."
We got up and prayed. To the dust of the earth I bowed down to the image of St. Seraphim, then we went. We ascended the stairs leading to the abbot's chambers passed through them and stopped in the last hall, from which was a passage to the church. In the hall it is twilight, the lamp is quietly flickering ... The door is half-open, you can hear them singing: "Lord, my God, you have become greatly exalted, you have clothed yourself with confession and command ... Wondrous are Thy works, O Lord." I entered the hall, looked around ... Here stood Fr. Christopher, I bowed at his feet, he bowed to me, and both shed tears, not saying anything to each other. Without words, everything was clear. Then I was left alone, a little to the side were screens, behind them a lectern, on it the image of the Savior, a burning candle. I stoon in underclothes. I look, there is a hair shirt on the chair.
Lord, where did I end up ? Who, what am I? It became scary, creepy. I had to undress. I took off everything, remained in what my mother had given birth to, put off the old man, put on a new one.
In a hair shirt I stood during an all-night vigil behind the screen in front of the image of the Savior. With hope and faith I gazed at the Divine face, and He, meek and humble in heart, gazed at me. And I felt good, peaceful and gratifying. You will look at yourself: you stand all white, a hair shirt to your heels, one such insignificant, undressed, barefoot, in the consciousness of this insignificance, this earthiness of yours, you rush down, fall down, put your head in your hands and ... lie like that ... and disappear, you are lost , and you are drowning in the Divine ... "Holy God, Holy Mighty, Holy Immortal, have mercy on us." With measured, stately, some kind of solemn steps a host of monks in hoods, in long robes, with lighted candles in their hands, approached me. I went out from behind the screen and they took me to the Sole, where the Reverend father was standing on the pulpit by the analogion with the cross and the Gospel.
" "Father's embrace open up to me," the choir sang softly, sadly. As soon as I entered the narthex, covered with robes, I fell prostrate on the floor - prostrate in the proper sense, my face touching the floor itself, my arms stretched crosswise ... then ... then ... I don't remember well what happened ... everything is how something got confused, everything in me was perplexed. Still fell, more ... suddenly, when I was lying at the pulpit, I heard: "Merciful God, like a child-loving Father, in vain your humility and true repentance, a child, like a prodigal son, accepts a penitent person and to Him from a falling heart." The Reverend father came up to me and lifted me up.
Then I made great and difficult monastic vows publicly before God. Then they clothed me in monastic robes, on my shoulder they put on a paraman, a black cross with a white cross, and around it were written terrible and wondrous words: " I bear on my body the wounds of the Lord." Sometimes these words make them feel so strongly, so real. They put a wooden cross on my chest, "in the everlasting remembrance of malice and humiliation, spitting, reproach, wounds, strangulation, crucifixion and death of the Lord Jesus Christ" they gave me sandals, a burning candle and a wooden cross.
So they buried me for the world! I also died in another world, although my body is still here. What I felt and experienced when I stood in a monastic robe in front of the image of the Savior, at the iconostasis with a cross and a candle, defies description. All that night, after being tonsured, I spent in the temple in indescribable delight and admiration. In the soul, as if heavenly music was playing, something tender, infinitely gentle, warm, immensely loving touched it and the soul froze, languished, drowned in the arms of the Heavenly Father. If at these moments someone suddenly came up to me and said: "In two hours you will be executed," I calmly, quite calmly, without any trepidation and excitement, would go to death, to execution and would not blink. So at that time I was detached from the body! And whether I was in the body or outside the body - I do not know. God knows!
During the Liturgy on September 27, I received the Holy Mysteries. Then the elder took me to the Gethsemane skete. Here I spent 5 days hopelessly in the church, communing the Holy Mysteries every day. I have experienced, changed my mind during this time so much that I probably will not survive that in my entire subsequent life. There was everything here: heavenly bliss, and hellish torment, but more bliss. I will briefly tell you, my dear, about my present new, monastic life, I will say in the words of one monk: “If the worldly people knew all the joys and mental consolations that a monk has to experience, then there would be no one left in the world, everyone would go to monks, but if worldly people knew in advance those sorrows and torments that befall a monk, then no flesh would ever dare to take monastic dignity, no mortal would dare to do so. Deep truth, great truth ...
On October 22, I was ordained to the rank of hierodeacon, and now I serve the Liturgy every day and hold in my unworthy hands the “Containing Everything” and eat the immortal Meal. Every day is a holiday for me ...
Oh, what happiness and what a great and long feat at the same time! Here's to you, dear, my feelings and experiences before and after the tonsure. When I myself remember all this, what happened, then it becomes terrifying to me: if the grace of God had not helped, I would not have endured this that I have experienced now. Thank God for everything!
October 31, 1908 Sergiev Posad.
Oh, what happiness and what a great and long feat at the same time! Here's to you, dear, my feelings and experiences before and after the tonsure. When I myself remember all this, what happened, then it becomes terrifying to me: if the grace of God had not helped, I would not have endured this that I have experienced now. Thank God for everything!
October 31, 1908 Sergiev Posad.
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