These will not necessarily be "lectures", but rather "autobiographical" notes. How I have experienced questions about faith in my life, what I thought about them. This is like a "confession of faith".And I want it to be alive - because it was really all experienced. These are notes or notes of the heart, clothed with sweat and in the forms of the mind.

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And they will be useful to someone: people are similar.

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I will begin with the time when I began to remember myself with faith.

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Of course, I do not remember how and when the first words and thoughts about faith were thrown into my soul by my mother... My memory had already found me as a believer, as were my parents, as well as everyone around me, people from the "simple", almost rural class. My father was a clerk on the estate of B-x, and my mother was the daughter of a deacon from the village of Sofyinka [1]. His father was still a serf as a boy. I did not see any "atheists" in my childhood and did not even hear about them. Everyone around believed without doubt. The supernatural world of God was as real as this earthly world. Literally, there is no difference. And I don't even remember: when did I first learn that there were atheists? I don't remember the impression of this new knowledge. But in any case, it obviously did not make any impression on me, if only because it did not remain in my memory as something special... So, I always remember myself as a believer! And you can say: I have never been an unbeliever. However, I know what such a state of doubt and unbelief is; But I will write about this later.... In order not to forget later: I will record one conversation on this topic (in general, I will not care much about the "system" of notes: it is not very important). Once I visited in Moscow an acquaintance of my reverence, Vladimir Alexandrovich Kozhevnikov [2]. He was a man of great erudition, to put it bluntly, a scientist. His library numbered thousands of books. He knew all the major European languages. He also wrote several works on Buddhism (without finishing them)... Shortly before his death, he fell ill with a terrible form of fever, which tossed him on the bed like a feather... I went to see him. Quite peacefully, lying down, he was conducting a conversation. And, among other things, he said, pointing with his hand to the thousands of books on the shelves (with irony, but harmless): "I have read all these fools; And yet he did not lose faith. I have always been a believer. The Kingdom of Heaven to your soul, servant of God Vladimir... Among his books he wrote several pamphlets on faith: they are simple in presentation, but very profound... I have now forgotten the exact table of contents. But I will look for them later and write them down: they are worth it for anyone who is interested in these questions to read them - the benefit will be undoubted.

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The first impression in my memory of faith, perhaps, was Pascha. Our whole family, like everyone else, has been preparing for it for a long time. And this expectation was growing.On Saturday evening, they talked about the night matins for Pascha. I had never been to it before: I was too young... Maybe I was 4 years old then... And I really wanted to be in the service then. And I began to ask my mother to take me to church... I was expecting something amazing. The little heart fluttered with the joy to come. Mom (she was the hostess of the family) promised; But she advised me to go to bed early. Hopefully, I fell asleep at once; And he woke up when it was dawn. Our people had already arrived from church (usually this time they gave us a horse from the "estate")... It turned out that they only consoled me with a promise, but they did not take me. And the elder brother, Misha, has already been honored with this joy. I was bitter. But soon I forgot my sorrow. The Paschal joy picked me up and carried me forward. Children's grief, like morning dew, is short-lived... But the next year I was already together with all our... I don't remember everything: only the joy was extraordinary... And among other things, during the singing of "Christ is Risen" and the procession around the church, they fired (from gunpowder) at cannons, God knows who had been preserved from somewhere by the landowners [3]. It was scary, but also breathtaking. Everything merged with the general elation, and barrels of tar were also burning... It was beautiful at night... I remember how around the church the women put bundles with "paskha" (cheese), Easter cakes and painted eggs; And penny candles were stuck in the "Easter"... "Fathers" (priest, deacon and sacristan) walked, sang and sprinkled them with holy water (after the Liturgy); the women immediately tied knots and hurried home... There were fewer and fewer lights. The fires also burned drowsily, as if tired during the night... Dawn was beginning to dawn... We rode in a cart. Ice still crunched here and there under the wheels and hooves of the horse: it must have been early Easter. At home, the father and mother sang "Christ is Risen" three times; and we joyfully began to break our fast with sweet Easter cakes and Easter cakes, with eggs... It was joyful in my heart... Then they immediately went to bed after an almost sleepless night. By 11 o'clock in the morning we woke up by lunchtime. But the former trembling joy was gone. A kind of peaceful silence cherished the soul... Then there was a game of eggs in the street, where all the "people" serving the "masters" gathered. Of course, there was no thought of any "social" inequality: my heart was joyful; the food was delicious; the soul is pure; Everyone around is joyful. What is better? The whole world was forgotten! Happy time...

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Much later, I paid attention to the clergy's visit to our hut on Pascha... After the prayer service at the landowners, the priest walked along the "yard". We waited. A green lamp burned in front of the icons. Everything was clean... We, children, watched: when the "icons" appeared...."They are coming, they are coming!" ... Bending down through the low doors, the "priests" sang a one-minute moleben, prayed for Christ; Dad imperceptibly put something (probably a silver nickel) into the priest's hand, shyly, and asked him to "sit down." They offered a treat: they refused... Two or three words, and everyone left... And only then did I feel that the holiday had "reached" our home. And there is definitely something missing from the "icons". What it was, I do not know, and I will not even explain; But this memory is etched in my memory forever... And then I thought: how unwise people are acting that they refuse to receive "priests" on this day! What joy they deprive themselves... The priests do not even suspect, probably, what kind of joy he walks with them, they are used to it. And for me it was like God's visitation... Perhaps even now, when we, the spiritual, visit people with molebens on feast days, they also feel joy from us, or through us from God.. After graduating from the Academy (1907-1908), Hieromonk Veniamin became a professorial scholar at the Department of Biblical History, and then held the position of inspector at the St. Petersburg Theological Seminary. Bishop Veniamin taught at the Paris Orthodox Theological Institute in 1925-1927 and 1929-1931. he was a household man of the Baratynskys, descendants of the famous Russian poet E. A. Baratynsky. At the age of 13-14, he was sent as a clerk to the Tambov estate - Sost. ^ Kozhevnikov Vladimir Alexandrovich (1852-1917) — author of books and articles on the history of religion, theology, problems of morality, writer and public figure. We consider it possible to cite a small list of his works devoted to the theme of faith and unbelief: "The Philosophy of Feeling and Faith in Its Relation to Literature and Rationalism of the Eighteenth Century and to Critical Philosophy." Moscow, 1897; "On Conscientiousness in Faith and Unbelief (To the Student Youth)". — M., 1908; "Confessions of an Atheist (On Le Dantec's Book "Atheism")". Moscow, 1911; "Modern Scientific Disbelief. His Growth, Influence and Change of Attitude to Him". — M., 1912 – Compilation. ^ In Russia, there was a custom (of secular origin) to accompany the movement of the procession on Easter night with fireworks, illuminations, as well as a cannon or rifle salute. Immediately after the end of the procession, when the Bright Matins began, the shooting and fireworks stopped – Compilation. ^

Chapter 2

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I also remember how my grandmother (Nadezhda – may she rest in peace! – was a holy humble) took me to the church, which stood on a hill, two versts from our house. She led to Communion of the Holy Spirit. Secrets. At that time, they put a clean colored shirt on me, I remember in the summer, and I also liked it. Impressions of St. I do not remember Communion in this early childhood; But I remember that there was only a slight impression of peace and quiet, reverent, silent, collected triumph: it was as if I were becoming an adult, a serious one this time... Once my grandmother and I were late for communion. It hurt me... I don't know why I was taken to one of the children (my brother Mikhail was 2 years older than me, but he was not taken with me)... Could it be that then there was already God's Providence over me, unworthy? My mother told me that our grandfather married her, my grandmother, not by his own choice, but by the will of his parents, as was usually done in the old days in simple rural families and clergy. It was like this. One winter evening, my grandfather's father, Deacon Vasily (Orshevsky), came to the house; and my grandfather, Nicholas, then still a young man (for some reason who had not finished his studies in theological schools), was lying on the stove. "What, father?"I have decided to marry you."To whom, father?" The bridegroom asked. "But at Fr. Vasily's (in this village, Orshevka, there was another deacon, also named Vasily) I want to take Nadezhda for you."Father! Is this pockmarked?! The disgruntled and involuntary groom objects. And my grandmother was sick with smallpox as a child, and on her face there were several large, but not at all spoiling her face. The deacon was angry. Am I your enemy, not your father? I know who I'm choosing for you. Come on, get down from the stove! Grandfather of Tears; and his father took a stag (such as we used to put pots and cast irons in the stove), and slapped him on the back once or twice, and "taught" him."Forgive me, father," asked my grandfather. "Whether it's pockmarked or crooked, it's your will!" And what a wise choice it was: my grandfather was not quite peaceful; later he drank a lot of wine. And he also had a large bee-house, several hundred hives: trade, honey and mash; yes, they constantly drank at the parish service; So he became an alcoholic. The last 18 years of his life (he died at the age of 71-72) he even lost his sanity, fell into childhood. He lived with us, then with another daughter, Anna Sokolova (also a meek holy woman, who was married to a well-to-do psalmist, Yakov Nikolaevich). He was very quiet; He only joked and smiled all the time. None of the children was afraid of him... He died at Aunt Anna's; I did not see his death.And to such a restless bridegroom the Lord sent the humble wife Nadezhda. And she never complained, never sued her grandfather: she was always quiet, silent and meek. Up. Paul often writes in his epistles about Christians: "All the saints salute you, and especially from the house of Caesar" (Phil. 4:22); and at another time he writes simply: "All the brethren greet you (the Corinthians)" (1 Corinthians 16:20): "All those who are with me greet you. Salute those who love us in faith" (Titus 3:15). Early Christians lived holy, staying in families, with husbands, wives, children—or even slaves. For this reason the Lord vouchsafed her an unusually quiet death, for which we pray: "The Christian end of our life, painless, shameless, peaceful" – "we ask the Lord" [1]. I remember this myself. I was probably 7 years old, and maybe even 6 years old. I slept with my little brother Sergey on a large bed. Others are on the floor. Grandmother is on a couch (an addition on a large Russian stove, on the side, for warm lying and sleeping)... Grandmother, as I remember, was never sick with anything. She was also about 71-72 years old, probably. But she has already become very weak. That must have been the reason why the lamp was burning, dimmed. Suddenly I heard (or maybe later my mother repeated it?):"Natasha! (Grandmother calls my mother). Seryozha was scattered in his sleep (i.e., he threw off the blanket in his sleep): cover him. Mom, very sensitive in general and fast, instantly jumped up from the floor and began to cover her brother. I didn't sleep here. Then my mother wanted to go to bed again: but my grandmother suddenly began to breathe unusually hard. Mom heard and was scared. She went up to her and said to her father: "Father, father! Get up, there's something wrong with your grandmother.Mom was nervous. And the father is always calm: why worry in this world? And Khokhlatsky (Fedchenko!) complacency was in his nature (Ukrainians rode oxen: everything was "quiet"). Dad got up, looked at my grandmother and said quite peacefully: "Grandma is dying." Everyone woke up... I don't remember, I don't think I was agitated. Dad lit a wax candle and approached grandmother: "Grandma, cross yourself!" (Probably, she still had so much power.) "Take the candle in your hands." And then she rarely sighed a few more times. And she died quite quietly... Mom sobbed... On the third day, my grandmother was buried. And we carried her along the same road along which we went to commune with her. I carried an icon in front of the coffin... She was buried in the cemetery - to the left, and almost next to the chapel. Holy. It was, I think, in early autumn - perhaps still in September (about 1886-7). Six months later, another daughter's sick grandfather died in the village.To this day, I not only remember my grandmother in my prayers; but when it is difficult for me spiritually, I ask her to pray for me there, with God: her prayer, humble and pure (of course, she was a pure life), reaches God... From the connection, I remember: how I "communed" after. It was already 5 years later, after the death of my grandmother... Priest Fr. Vladimir confessed by fasting on the right kliros. And, it seems, the children of innocents were confessed in groups of 5 people... And what sins did we have then? But he was already flying home joyfully, as if he were flying on wings: it was so light in his soul! And after confession it was not supposed to eat. Mother, also happy for us that we were cleansed (and the people said: "We coped, we reformed"), kindly used to say: "Well, you go to bed, go to bed quickly: so as not to sin again. And we, really afraid that we might stain our conscience even with word and thought, immediately go to bed; and fell asleep in the undisturbed sleep of innocence. The next day they were "vouchsafed" to take communion... It was even more joyful for us and for our parents. They were especially affectionate with us then... Holy silence and love entered the house with communicants: "The God of love and peace" came with us into the house (2 Corinthians 13:11). treated well; Yesterday's post was generously rewarded. The Christian End of Our Life... — Words from the Litanies of Supplication – Comp. ^