Once again about love.

Once again about love.

A nun I know from Jerusalem wears a shrine ark on her chest. When she's in Moscow, she sometimes stops at our place. One day she comes in tears. I ask her: "What's wrong, Mother?"
"Yes," she says, "I came out of the temple and walking down the street. I see a homeless man. So pathetic. I went up to him and said: 'God help you, brother! It's not easy for you.'"

And he cried and went to the hem of my robe and kissed it and I kissed him saying:
"Let me bless you with a sacred blessing."
So he put his awe on the ark with such reverence! Then the other one came up. He asks so shyly:
"Am I allowed? "
"Of course you can," I say. And my heart is shrinking with pity.

A friend of mine comes into the conversation, she stopped by for tea.
"Aren't you afraid, Mother, of catching something?"
"No" she answers. "What's there to be afraid of? They're images of God, too, only a little dirty."

Olga Kormukhina