MEETING WITH DANIIL MATVEYEVICH

On June 23, 1963, a terrible misfortune occurred. Daughter Anya, son Igor, mother and I were going to a summer village located outside the city of Pushkino. The car was driven by my husband Nikolai, an experienced driver who drove us to the dacha and back to Moscow for three years. We passed the city of Pushkino, there were few oncoming cars, we were not driving fast, but suddenly a huge truck flew out of the oncoming lane, which tried to overtake the car in front. The driver lost control and crashed into our car. A blow followed, our car overturned several times.

I woke up lying on the asphalt, thinking poorly, I remember, I shouted: Anya, Igor! No one answered. I tried to get up, but fell from pain. Ambulances drove up, put someone in them, dragged me in. My son Igor and husband Nikolai died in the accident, my ten-year-old daughter Anya and my disfigured mother survived. I spent three months in the Sklifosovsky hospital, underwent a number of operations and came out almost completely healthy, I was treated at home and in sanatoriums.

It is pointless to talk, and even more so to write about my grief and state of mind, for three months after treatment I could not work and, probably, many people saw me as abnormal, cried, cursed life, fate and everyone who tried to console me. I was not even at the funeral of Igor and Nikolai, I was in the hospital after the very first and difficult operation, my mother was also in the hospital in Pushkino. The surrounding relatives, acquaintances and colleagues treated me surprisingly attentively and sympathetically, but this did not help to alleviate my grief. I became bitter against everyone and everything, I thought that everyone was happy, and for some reason God, in Whom I believed, sent me ineradicable grief. I became hardened against God: why, why did I send such a misfortune? What for? As if possessed, she asked this question to everyone. What for? What was the fault of Nikolai, little Igor, his disabled mother Natalia and I? Than? And she did not receive an answer from herself and others.

My closest friend, a true friend Lena, with whom we grew up and studied together, was a person of great faith and kindness, a woman of prayer. We loved each other very much, my late husband Nikolai was even jealous of our friendship. She knew that Lena, together with her husband Yuri, had traveled somewhere far out of town to visit a priest who had led a Christian community before the war, and since 1958, having spent a whole life in the camps, now lived in the city of R. (later I found out, Rostov Severny). Lena and Yuri had two children [3].

Almost every day I went to see them, but mostly I talked to Yuri, probably repeating the same thing every day. He listened silently, put his arm around my shoulders, and with affectionate and kind words relieved a small part of my grief, albeit for one evening. Lena talked about God, His mercy, the will of the Lord and called to church. These conversations made me tremble: how could God and the church calm me down if such grief was thrown at me? Conversations with Lena were annoying, and I avoided them, repeating the same thing in different variations: Why? What for?

Once Lena said that she was going to the priest Fr. Arseny, I had heard this name from her before. Before that, I made an unpleasant scandal for Lena in the presence of her children and Yuri, repeating: It's easy for you to talk, yours are all alive, and I only got grief. The next day I was ashamed of the noisy conversation, and in order to smooth over my behavior, I agreed to go, although I understood the aimlessness of the trip. This was already in 1964.

The train was moving slowly, the weather was rainy, the day was gloomy, matching my mood. They drove in silence, thoughtlessly looking out of the window, behind which bare trees, bushes, telegraph poles floated by. Lena was reading a book. I stopped looking out the window, stared angrily at the corner of the compartment, scolding myself and cursing myself for cowardice, spinelessness, that I had agreed to go to an unknown priest. How can it help? Will he return what was lost? What nonsense, I have already heard many words of consolation.

The train came to the city, reached home, pulled the bell handle. An elderly woman opened the door, greeted me warmly and said: Just in time for dinner, come in. Father Arseny said that you would come. What nonsense, how could he know about our arrival? I became even more embittered, and a big cat was annoyingly tangled under my feet, which was even more annoying. We undressed, washed our hands, and went into the dining room. A large room, a long table and chairs around the table and near the walls, there was no one in it. Lena kissed the woman who met us, calling her Nadezhda Petrovna, and went out somewhere. Strangers began to enter the dining room, Lena came, introducing me to enter. Everything in me was bubbling with anger, indignation at Lena and myself. Why am I here? Dine at someone else's house? To see an unknown priest, to talk to him about something, what is it for? My great grief will still remain with me.

We sat down at the table, I was seated next to a man about my age, saying that his name was Georgy.

A priest of above average height, thin, with a kind but tired face, entered. He greeted me, read a prayer before the meal (dinner), blessed, I did not cross myself. What was being talked about at dinner, I forgot, the nasty cat rubbed against his legs and annoyed, I wanted to throw him away with my foot. Dinner was over, we read a prayer, everyone began to disperse, only Fr. Arseny and I remained in the dining room. Getting up from his chair and coming up to me, he said: "Let's go."

As if I was half-asleep, he sat me down on the sofa and said: Tell me why you came to an unknown priest. That's when I burst out, almost with screaming, anger, hatred and even insults, I began to speak. He sat silently, I kept talking, probably repeating myself, and kept repeating: Why? She was tired, spoke out and looked at the priest with surprise. Where are the words of consolation, comfort, where is the spiritual help promised by Lena?

Father Arseny stood up, silently adjusted the lamps, lit a few candles and, coming up to me, said: Get on your knees. I got up without a murmur and knelt down. Putting his hand on my head, he began to read prayers, many times calling my name, my daughter Anna and my mother Natalia, then he himself knelt down and began to read a prayer to the Most Holy Theotokos [4]: My Most Blessed Queen, my hope to the Mother of God, protector of the orphaned and strange, protectress of the offended, salvation to the perishing, consolation to all who sorrow, see my misfortune, see my sorrow and anguish. Help me when I am weak, strengthen me who suffers. You know my offenses and sorrows, resolve them, stretch out your hand over me, for I have no one to rely on, only You are my protector and intercessor before the Lord, for I have sinned immeasurably and am sinful before You and people. Be me, my Mother, a comforter and helper, and save me, drive away from me sorrow, anguish and despondency. Help, Mother of my Lord. And he read: Today, faithful people, we spiritually triumph, glorifying the zealous Intercessor of the Christian race, and flowing to Her most pure image, we cry out: O Most-Merciful Lady Theotokos, grant us unexpected joy, burdened with sins and sorrows, and deliver us from all evil, beseeching Thy Son Christ our God to save our souls (troparion to the icon of the Mother of God Unexpected Joy).

The words of the prayers were read clearly, distinctly, the warmth and extraordinary penetration of Fr. Arseny's voice for the first time in my life brought to the very depths of my soul the innermost, the ardent breath of prayer to the Most Holy Theotokos, the protector and protectoress of us sinners. In the morning, afternoon and evening, choose a time, whether at home, at work, on the road, and read these prayers, and She, the Mother of God, will definitely help you. Go to church more often, where there is a miraculous icon of Unexpected Joy, read the akathist. There is no need to say any words of consolation, no reasoning about your grief, these prayers contain all your earthly sorrow, pray. Come to me with Lena, and, carefully taking me by the shoulders, having previously blessed, led me to the door.