Информация о первоисточнике

При использовании материалов библиотеки ссылка на источник обязательна.

При публикации материалов в сети интернет обязательна гиперссылка:

"Православие и современность. Электронная библиотека." (www.lib.eparhia-saratov.ru).

Преобразование в форматы epub, mobi, fb2

"Православие и мир. Электронная библиотека" (lib.pravmir.ru).

Bitter Desert

The Far North, the wild desert... Wherever the eye turns, everywhere one sees swamps and swamps and bare earth, or masses of bare rocky mountains, the peaks of which rise to the pale skies. Nothing caresses the eyes, nothing cherishes the ear - neither nightingales nor larks, so close to the heart of the Russian person, fly here. Winter is long, summer is short, so short that the freezing ground does not have time to warm up. The sun smiles miserably from the distant sky, on which gray clouds are constantly moving, driven by the wind; The wind has a wide expanse here. The mountains are darkening, perhaps covering the azure lands, where the sun shines brightly and nature smiles, where flowers are fragrant and a light breeze, fluttering, whispers something sweet, pleasant... Azure lands.. Oh, no, they are far from this wild, cheerless desert... Everything here is gloomy, anxious, breathes cold and death. In rare places, you can see a pine forest, or a spruce tree, or a gnarled birch bending down to green moss. Bears appear in the forests, arctic foxes run waving their long fluffy tails, gray wolves flash between the trees, sparkling their eyes and baring their teeth at their prey. Reptiles swarm in the swamps, loons fly in for a short summer, a seagull rushes around with a sharp cry, as if it is looking for someone and cannot find it. It stretches in breadth and distance for hundreds of versts, ends at the White Sea in the west, at the Arctic Ocean in the north. The White Sea is harsh, cold, the Arctic Ocean is terrible. The sea is formidable, when the serpen (August) is replaced by zarnik (September) and a violent wind rises from the high mountains, as it is locally called "khviyus". It rushes, roars, howls, rushing over the desert, disperses gulls and loons to warm nests, brown bears, gray wolves and bluish arctic foxes to dens and lairs and rushes to the White Sea. Hvijus muddies the sea and it rages mercilessly, as if threatening this desert, breaking the roaring billows against huge blocks of ice walking in the darkness of the northern winter. After all, winter comes early here - with the dawn.The sun sets, which shone for almost three months day and night. The chilly growth turned yellow, curled up under the breath of the hvius. It became siverko (cold). By the end of the dawn, deep snow covers the desert, the mountains freeze, and a blizzard begins to howl. Night has fallen, and it will reign until the Omelyan the Confessor, which is celebrated soon after the Baptism of the Lord. Until then, the sun will not rise. Flashes (northern lights) alone will now illuminate this dead kingdom, shimmering with a whole sea of all kinds of colors and as if throwing countless sparks on the snow canopy of the tundra-desert with its thickies (mountain steeps), navoloks (capes) and slanka (very small shrubs). In the moonlight, they look like majestic, fairy-tale castles, miraculously as if created from multi-colored gemstones: red, blue, amber, green, yellow, shimmering with all the colors of the rainbow... In the expanse of the ocean, among these icy mountains, seals can be seen, swimming with their pups on thick ice floes, swaying on the mighty waves of the free element. A flash will flare up, illuminate the sky - seals swim out onto the cold shore and frolic. They are alone here: the hunting arrow does not watch over the pinnipeds.Hvijus seems to resign himself a little, then begins to blow again with terrible force, wakes up a blizzard, and the snow swirls over the desert and turns it into primordial chaos... Following the baby (November), jelly came (December). Varyukha crackled, Savva screamed, Nikola nailed. The bear in the den had not yet opened his eyes. It's cold!.. Spiridon came as usual – the sun would have turned, but where is it, the sun? It has also sunk with a sickle, and he will not get up from his scarlet bed until Omelyan. It came, March, with rains, with fogs, with bad weather, but only in the spring. March is out of breath, breathing heavily, intermittently, but no matter how much he breathes, everything seems to be warm... The hvius himself, as it were, shuns him: he knows the violent wind, that he is not the friend and companion of March, but the night owl, the slacker, the shoreman — these are the winds. Suhiy does not oppress on siverko, but on the intervening time (summer). Flying: Evdokea brightens the spring, Gerasim the rook, Alexei streams from the mountains... Fogs are smoking, rains are falling. The snow loosens and gradually settles. By the blossom (April), you see, the thawed patches will turn black, rooks will jump over them, crows will croak, loons, gulls, soldier-birds, petrels, knifebills and skuas will respond. Spring finally smiled at the wild desert with its gentle smile. The tundra threw off the snow cover. The hvius lay down. Lichen is spreading like white lace, and timid grass has appeared. The gnarled birch shyly covers itself with leaves, the pine forest and the spruce forest, brushing away the winter slumber and fluffy snow, are green in a particularly solemn way. And in this timid, weak manifestation of plant life lies, alas, all the beauty of the vast desert in spring. There are no villages, or at least lonely huts. Do people live here? Or is it a land forgotten by man?But, choo, an alarming cry rang out.. He woke up the desert. It is not the cry of a loon, or a gull, or any other bird; This is not a bear's or wolf's roar. Several small creatures in the same reindeer skins and reindeer hats responded to the call. They rose from the ground on which they were sitting in a circle and walked with a rolling gait in the direction of the cry that had alarmed them. The deer was dying.He was lying on the moss, which completely covered the tundra, and with eyes full of tears, he looked at the creature bending over him, dressed in the example of the Old Testament people. The branchy horns of the dying animal were thrown over its back. The deer did not move, only its hind legs with soft hooves twitched from time to time. The man kneeling before him stared intently at the deer, and his gentle gray eyes also dropped tears that ran down his swarthy cheeks and were lost in the curls of his sparse beard. A convulsion squeezed his face. It seemed that this man was forever parting with his best, faithful friend, losing everything that had hitherto pleased him and brought him happiness. One of them asked.The kneeling man did not answer the question, he did not even turn around to the people who approached the same people as himself.- Yes, the deer is dying... is dying..." voices were heard. He raised his head, but it fell helplessly. His legs began to twitch even more, tears flowed more uncontrollably from his eyes.The kneeling man leaned forward with his whole body."Ilmarinen," one of the people who came to him said to him, "why don't you collect his tears?" He shuddered and somehow indifferently responded: "Oh, yes, yes... And, taking a hollowed-out cup from his bosom, he began to collect into it the tears that flowed from the eyes of the dying animal. According to the belief of these children of the northern desert, the tears of a dying deer have miraculous power and help in moments of difficult trials that fate sends to people on their life path. Gathering his tears, Ilmarinen clutched the cup in his hands, continuing to look into the deer's eyes. At last he stretched, raised his head once more, but it fell again, shook up again, and fixed his suddenly blurred gaze on the people: there was one less deer in the herd.Ilmarinen hugged the dead animal, stroked its neck and rose from his knees with a sigh."There are no deer," he said. Ena, how much she wanders! In fact, a large herd of reindeer roamed the tundra, nibbling lichen. High granite mountains stood in a chain, which in one place broke, opening the entrance to the Pechenga Bay. For nine miles this lip stretched and, forming a knee, protruded into the mainland. In the distance, the mirror of the lake gleamed. In addition to the Pechenga Bay, the Paza Bay passed further to the west. Islands are piled up. The cape was drowned in the greenery, like a hero blocking the entrance to the Pazu River. From the bluish distance, the noise of paduns (waterfalls) is heard. Meanwhile, the little people, dressed in reindeer skins, moved away from the dead animal and soon disappeared: some in huts made of tree branches, others underground in pits with sharp roofs of peat bogs. There are no other dwellings here. These little people, wandering around the tundra with herds of reindeer, do not build huts. The hut serves as an excellent shelter in bad weather, the pit is an excellent shelter from the enemy: robbers, freemen, Finns and good Novgorod youths, who are not averse to looking into this distant, bitter desert and profiting from its simple-minded children, who do not even have anything to defend themselves with. Do you know, the kebuns (sorcerers and priests) did not beg the "northern spirit" to prevent the invasion, or is the Chud stronger, or is this spirit stronger? But if she has found it, pay her, the robber. And the shepherds give deer, animal skins, and all the available goods, as much as the Chud demands. And the good Novgorodians of Novgorod or the homeless freemen will appear — also to fear the desert ... — "Has come"! Oh, the "became" came! – the little inhabitants of the desert repeat with horror and are already directly crammed into their pits, leaving the herds to the mercy of fate. And they sit in these pits, neither alive nor dead, while "become" they rule around the herds, engaged in robbery.- Oh, terrible "became"! Because "became" - after all, these are burly young people, encased in steel. Themselves encased in impenetrable armor, they bring with them deadly weapons. Where can dwarfs fight with heroes? But who are they, dwarfs? Who is offended by all the newcomers with a rebellious soul and a violent temper? And over these pagan savages, and over this distant and harsh country, the light of the faith of Christ was shed. The Novgorod side illuminated the Far North with this light: from the city of Torzhok came the Apostle to the Lapp people. This was Mitrophan, Tryphon in monastic tonsure, the enlightener of the Lapps, the wonderworker of Pechenga.

Wild Lop

Among the Russians of the time to which our narrative belongs, that is, at the end of the fifteenth and the first half of the sixteenth century, there were amazing stories about the Far North. Historian N.M. Karamzin says directly: "They assured that there, on the shores of the ocean, in the mountains, the inextinguishable fire of purgatory was blazing; that there are people in Lukomorye who die every year on November 27, and on April 24 come back to life; that before death they take their goods to a certain place, where their neighbors can take them during the winter, leaving due payment for everything and not daring to deceive, for the dead, rising in the spring, settle accounts with them and always punish the unscrupulous; that there were other strange people, covered with animal hair, with dogs' heads, with a face on their chests, with long arms, but without legs; there are humanoid fish, but only dumb and so on."This was said about the Lapps, the very ones who had been paying tribute to the Lord of Novgorod the Great since the beginning of the eleventh century. He divided them into two and three and took from them first fur skins and fish, and later in money. Novgorod bailiffs came to the wild lopi and collected tribute. Needless to say, people in animal skins could not help but seem wild to the bailiffs, and they composed all sorts of fables about these savages, which were then embellished by all kinds of idle people. The manuscript has been preserved in the Solovetsky Monastery. It says: "These clans (i.e. the Lapps), like wild beasts, live in impassable deserts, in stone crevices, have neither a temple nor anything else necessary for human habitation, but feed only on animals: beasts, and birds, and sea fish, and their clothing is the skin of deer. By no means do they want to know or understand the true God, the only one sent from Him, Jesus Christ, but by Him whoever satisfies the belly is also a god for them. And if sometimes someone kills an animal with a stone, he honors the stone, and if he strikes what he is catching with a stick, he worships the club." When the Solovetsky monastery was erected over the raging ramparts of the White Sea, the Lapps began to come to it.- What brought you here? the monks asked them. And those who came answered:— We want to stay with you, brethren.— In the monastery of the Venerable Fathers Zosima and Sabbatius? The monks were surprised. "Why should you stay here!" You are accustomed to the tundra, to reindeer herds, to space and free will."We leave everything, we throw everything out of our hearts," answered the Lapps. "Like you, we want to devote ourselves exclusively to prayer and fasting." Before the time of the Grand Duke John III, they waited for the collectors of tribute at a certain time from year to year, and it is unlikely that any bailiff would ever have the courage to say that the Lapp had dodged the tribute or that he, the bailiff, had deceived him. This did not happen. Lop is wild, but honest. It is not without reason that the chronicle of the region says: "On the farthest shore of the ocean live the Laplanders, an extremely savage, suspicious and cowardly people that one trace of a stranger or even the sight of a ship puts them to flight. The Muscovites do not know the properties of this people. The fur trade is carried on without talking, because the Laplanders avoid the eyes of others. Having compared the goods they buy with the furs, they leave the furs in place, and take away what they bought, and such correspondence trade is carried out with extreme honesty."Starting from John III, the Lapps themselves, in the person of their elders, bring tribute, only not to the Lord of Novgorod the Great, but to Moscow, which conquered it. They are now dealing not with any bailiffs, but with the "Grand Duke and Tsar," as John liked to call himself. Burst in Moscow... Stepping into Ioann's City from the desolate, bare, gloomy tundra was tantamount to getting into paradise.It is known that with the accession of John III, the Russian state actually began and the dawn of a new life for the Russian people broke out. John had attained the full splendor of supreme power. Russia considered him the first, and foreigners called him the Great. Splendor and splendor accompanied this blacksmith on the throne, powerfully forging Russia, which grew and grew, seizing more and more new lands under its rule in the north, east, south and west. Under him, Moscow dressed up, embellished and flourished magnificently under the hands of its own and foreign masters, summoned by the will of the great sovereign.From Tver, Vyatka, Ryazan, Novgorod, Perm and from the old Russian volosts, captured by Lithuania, servicemen and all kinds of people went to settle in Moscow, carrying with them their talents, their tastes, their riches and treasures. Pre-Johannine Moscow became dilapidated. Masons came to the prince's call from Pskov, Italian and German chamber and wall masters came from Venice, Milan, Lübeck, the famous architect Aristotle Fioraventi arrived, and work began in full swing in Moscow. Churches are being built one after another. Where there were wastelands, there are now streets stretching, on the site of shacks, look, there are towers; where the chambers stood, there are palaces. The Fryazins (by which all foreign masters were meant) decorate Moscow buildings with a kind of feverish haste: Fryazhsky painting can be seen on the walls of churches, palaces and chambers. A Dalmatian goldsmith makes vessels for Tsar John. Everything that is not magnificent, not strong, does not go out of the ordinary — everything is banished from Moscow everyday life.— You see, they don't build in Moscow anymore, — say visiting people.— Well, do Muscovites do without a choir, or what?— Instead of a choir, they erect chambers...— And what difference does it make? Mansions, wards — it doesn't matter, tea...— That is what it doesn't matter. The chambers are Fryazh craftsmanship, always made of stone, and the mansions, as you know, are wooden, with towers and haylofts, and grids. In Moscow, but everything is going on again. She felt cramped in herself, well...— So?— So the old, eternal churches are being taken out of the city...— Really?— Yes. And the old monasteries have been rearranged from their places..." Is it so?—Truly. And the bones of the dead were carried out beyond Dorogomilovo..."Ah, and the bones are disturbed! Oh, Lord! New gardens have been planted - Moscow has turned green. The city took on a majestic appearance. The Lapps, wild as they were, could not help but marvel at the beauty of Moscow. They, the ignorant Pomorians, had to figure out how which church was built in Moscow and what a cross-shaped church, or box-shaped, or lancet-shaped church meant. They had never heard of any Indian, Lombard, or Moorish styles! Getting to Moscow, the lop froze in admiration before the splendor of palaces and mansions and, not hiding her delight, innocently asked the Muscovites: "And where did you get this?"God's blessing," they answered."Yes, your God is great, generous and merciful," the Lapps agreed. Accept Holy Baptism, and the Lord will send you from His mercies. He is all-good and merciful.Everything that the wild burst saw in Moscow, she did not even dream of. The life of the Muscovites seemed miraculous to them; Looking at them, the Lapps keenly felt the poverty and misery of their existence. In Moscow, they saw with their own eyes that their life, in their usual structure, was as meaningless as the existence of reindeer inseparable from them. In the end, his thoughts got the better of him. Savages gradually began to be seized by a thirst for another life, a thirst for light, a thirst for Christianity. Those who visited Moscow, returning to the tundra, told about the wonderful city and about the mercies and generosity of the Christian God. Souls stirred. From the stories alone, there was a pleasant, especially sweet warmth. Faith in his gods was shaken. In vain did the kebuns, having learned of this, threaten the northern shepherds with the vengeance of idols and evil spirits, in vain did they predict the destruction of all the flocks if the apostates did not come to their senses. The Lapps acted according to the call of their hearts – they sent their elders to the grand prince, "begging him to give them Christian teachers." At this time, Vasily III, the son of John III, was already reigning, and the elders of the Lapps, having brought the usual tribute, conveyed to him both a prayer from themselves and from the Pomeranian who had authorized them. Accepting the petition, the Grand Duke ordered the Novgorod Archbishop Macarius, a famous saint in the history of the Russian Church, to send to Lukomorye a priest of the local St. Sophia Cathedral with a deacon, who would enlighten the Pomorians with the light of the Gospel truth. The Novgorod priest and deacon labored among the Laplanders who lived at the mouth of the Niva River and the Kandalaksha Bay. But in addition to these Lapps, there were also Kola Lapps. And a few years later, they also expressed to Vladyka Macarius a desire to be baptized, and "with great zeal they received the priests. However, believing in Christ, this people, as the historian N. M. Karamzin notes, continued to deify the sun, moon, stars, lakes, springs, rivers, forests, stones, mountains, and had priests... and, going to Christian churches, he did not betray his idols. Archbishop Macarius sent there the clever monk Elijah with an instructive letter to the inhabitants, who, assuring him of their faithfulness to Christianity, said that they did not dare to touch their idols, guarded by terrible spirits." We worship them because they are inhabited by formidable spirits. As if in response, Elijah not only plucked, but also lit first one branch from the sacred forest for them, then another, again and again... The Lapps were horrified."What have you dared to do? they exclaimed. "You... "I am afraid of the punishment of the true God," answered the monk. "I don't recognize any, neither mountain spirits, nor forest spirits, nor mermaids. And your forests are mere forests created by the will of Almighty God. And so! Elijah remained safe and sound.— To whom do you pray? "We worship idols," they answered, and pointed to the rough stone figures made by the clumsy hands of the kebuns."Do not make for yourself an idol — this is what is said in the true Holy Scriptures," said the monk Elijah.Having settled on Kola, he began to preach the word of God, preaching the gospel, crushing pagan altars, throwing idols into the sea. In vain did the priests threaten him with the vengeance of the gods he crushed, in vain did they bring death upon him. Elijah did and did his work, proclaiming the word of Truth.Kola was founded by the Novgorodians. For the first time, this settlement was mentioned in 1264 in their agreement with Prince Yaroslav Yaroslavovich of Tver. Industrial Novgorodians needed Kola. Gradually enriching themselves with trade with the Nenets, Kama Bulgarians and others, the Novgorodians paid special attention to furs. This was the main source of their enrichment, since at that time furs were a luxury and the whole of Europe loved to flaunt in them. And in the north there were no beasts! After all, the north and northeast are overgrown with forests. Moving farther and farther, approaching the ocean, to the fabulous Lukomorye, the Novgorod enterprise built cities and colonies along the way, where it was convenient, and held fast to them. With the expansion of the circle of trade, as the prosperity and wealth of the Lord of Novgorod the Great grew, the Novgorodians raised their heads higher and more independently in relation to their closest neighbors. There is nothing surprising in the fact that they negotiated with the Tver prince Yaroslav Yaroslavich in this way, as evidenced by this charter: "Prince Yaroslav! We demand that you, like your ancestors and your father, confirm by kissing the cross the sacred vow to rule the New City as usual, to take only gifts from our regions, to entrust them only to Novgorod, and not to princely officials, not to elect them without the consent of the posadnik and not to replace without guilt those who were appointed by your brother Alexander, his son Dimitri and the Novgorodians. In Torzhok and Volok there will be princely and our tiuns (or judges): the first in your unit, the second in Novgorod, and in Bezhitsy neither you, nor the princess, nor the boyars, nor your nobles are to have villages, nor to buy or accept as gifts, as well as in other possessions of Novgorod: in Volok, Torzhok and others; also in Vologda, Zavolochye, Kola, Perm, Pecher, Yugra. You, prince, can go to Russa in autumn, not in summer, but send your fisherman and mead maker to Ladoga according to the letter of your father, Yaroslav. Dimitri and the Novgorodians gave the Bezhichi and Obonezh residents the right to be tried by their own court for three years; do not violate this temporary statute and do not send judges to them. Do not lead the people to your land from our regions, either by force or by will. Your princess, boyars and nobles must not take merchants or landowners as collateral for debts. We will set aside hay meadows for you and your boyars, but do not demand those taken from us by Prince Alexander (Nevsky) and in general do not imitate him in the actions of autocracy. Tiuns and princely nobles traveling around the volosts are given runs, as it has been established since ancient times, and only military messengers in the villages can demand horses from merchants. As for duties, our merchants in your land and in all the land of Suzdal are obliged to pay two veksha per boat, per cart and from a box of flax or hops. So it happened, prince, in the time of your fathers and grandfathers and ours. Kiss the holy cross in the assurance that you will fulfill these conditions, kiss it not through intermediaries, but yourself and in the presence of the Novgorod ambassadors. And then we bow to you, the master-prince."No wonder that they persuaded in one way and not another, because it was the Novgorod custom. The prince came to them, and if they received him, it was only "with all their will." In other words, they set their own conditions for the prince. If you agree to fulfill them, stay, and if not, with God..."That's our will," said the ardent, self-willed Novgorodians. "Your will is heavy," replied the prince. the Novgorodians repeated. "Go where you will; now is not your time.And the prince was leaving. There was nothing left for him to do.Once the Grand Prince of Kiev Svyatopolk II equipped an embassy in Novgorod. The ambassadors came and bluntly laid out that the Grand Duke wanted to put his prince's son with them, the Novgorodians. And the Lord of Novgorod the Great also answered the ambassadors directly: "Say to the Grand Prince: 'Prince Svyatopolk! If your son has two heads, then come him to us."In 1550 the village of Kola was called a prison, and in 1553 the first church was built in the prison.Hieromonk Elijah, having settled in Kola, began to preach to the pagan Lapps the one true God, the Creator of heaven and earth, the one Father and Savior of all people. Good seed fell on the stones, but some also sank into the fertile soil, and little by little the light of Christianity began to spread in the Kola side. The Novgorod monk sowed the sacred, sowed with zeal, sparing no effort. However, paganism reigned not only in the Kola region, along the Kola and Tuloma rivers. It widely ruled around. The banks of the Pechenga River, the Pasvik River and the coast of the Northern Ocean, where the Lapps roamed with their herds, also craved light. But from Kola to them is not a stone's throw away. The wild people lived in a space of 500 versts. Where was it possible for a monk to cope with this mighty "bitter wilderness" and illumine it with the light of Christianity? What was needed here was a mighty spirit, the chosen one of Almighty God Himself, Who would put into His Apostle extraordinary strength, patience, endurance and desire for podvig. He finished the work begun by the Novgorod ascetic Elijah, from which he received a blessing for his labors, and later monastic tonsure.When Mitrophan came to Kola, the first person he met there was a Novgorod hieromonk.—Bless me, holy father! Mitrofan turned to him. And when the monk who had blessed him asked why he had come here so young, full of strength and, perhaps, very much needed by his native city of Torzhok, Mitrophan humbly answered: "This is my place." a land uninhabited and thirsty awaits you."

The Voice of the Unseen One

Mitrophan was born in 1495 in Torzhok, Novgorod province.His father was a priest. A humble altar server, he tried to educate his son in the rules of strict piety. Mitrophan learned to read and write at an early age, and as a child he loved to visit the church, in which he felt most joyful. He was the first to come to the church at the call of the church bell and the last to leave it. Children's games and amusements did not occupy his mind. Mitrophan avoided them. He sat all day long over the Holy Scriptures, as if searching for in them what the surrounding life did not give him, a child, and then a young man. In the holy books, the meaning of life was revealed and there was a key that unlocked the gates of eternal bliss.His peers called Mitrophan to have fun, but he refused. Not for him to have fun. He was invited to games. "Why am I going there?" seemed to say his imploring gaze, which he turned to his peers, and they gradually became convinced that Mitrophan was not like them: somehow strange, somehow special. But none of them dared to reproach this unusual young man. He was not understood, but he was not condemned either. Concentration and seriousness, which distinguished Mitrophan beyond his years, led his peers to bewilderment. Why is he like this? What feelings is he full of? How does his pure soul live? It was difficult and, moreover, impossible to guess. And the young people stepped back from him. And this was all he wanted, he wanted solitude, which would help him to delve into the Holy Scriptures and soar his thoughts to God... Father liked Mitrofanov's modesty and alienation from worldly amusements. Temptation, one temptation, these amusements! Away from temptation is better. The crystal of the soul will be preserved longer, the heart will no longer remain polluted by sinful thoughts, and inner beauty will not fade. In church, during the service, the priest listened to the singing and reading of his Mitrophan, and his sonorous voice delighted his father. There were some special notes in this voice, some extraordinary penetration in the son's reading of the kathismas, the Apostle, and the hours. When the time came for singing, especially the "Cherubic Hymn", Mitrophan suddenly seemed to have wings grown, carrying him upwards, as if at that moment he saw a host of angels, among the open heavens. And the unearthly delight that seized the young man gave his young voice an inexplicable beauty! His eyes sparkled, a blush flashed on his cheeks, Mitrophan trembled all over and, trembling, poured waves of indescribably sweet sounds over the wretched temple. And who would not be captured by such singing and torn away from the earth and worldly cares? It was not easy for my father to control himself. When he pronounced exclamations or read a prayer, his voice could be heard trembling. Obviously, tears came to the priest's throat. He returned home after the service and said: "Good, heartfelt, touching today you sang, Mitrofanushka, 'Praise the Name of the Lord'! A tear struck me when I listened to you. Only his eyes were still shining, but no, no, and he would tremble all over, like a dove or like an eaglet that has been in the sky and seen and heard something there, which cannot be conveyed by a language poor in words... As Mitrophan grew, all his thoughts moved further and further away from the world around him. Life, as it proceeded in the city, was alien to him. And the people who inhabited Torzhok did not interest Mitrophan at all, as if he had been born in some other part of the world, under other heavens, among a different nature, and had come here by accident and for a short time, and did not understand anyone or anything here. Hiding from the eyes of people was his favorite pastime. And Mitrophan hid in some secluded corner of his father's house, where he read, or indulged in thought, or prayed, or went out of town, to the forest or to the field, and there again prayed, reading or meditating in the distance. He became familiar with nature, comprehending the deep meaning of wilderness life, and more and more persistently searched in the forest thickets and in the wide expanse of the field for answers to the questions that overwhelmed his entire young being. Whenever he comes here, he does not see anyone, it is as if a human foot is afraid to set foot here. There, in Torzhok, people are fussing, agitated, burning in the fire of passions and petty worries, most often because of a piece of bread, but here, as they say, the outskirts with the city are both deserted and peaceful. Birds are the only ones chirping and singing, and insects buzzing, and in winter hares run through the snowdrifts, wolves and foxes prowl. And that's all. It is good to contemplate the sky here, lit up at night with myriads of lights. Every light, every star — after all, they say, it is the eye of the angels... So how many angels are there! And they all look at the earth, and at the people, and, consequently, at him, at Mitrophan. How good! How gratifying! How do these angelic eyes warm the soul.." But here, thought Mitrophan, a man has nothing to do. To beat animals, to catch birds... What for? To shed even animal blood, can this really serve as a pleasure for a person? Meanwhile, there, in the deserts of the Lukomorye, by the Cold Ocean, man is needed, yes, yes, he is needed, but he is not there. People live there like beasts and there is no one to teach them to live differently. They do not know what they eat, they do not know whom they worship, and no one, no one, strives to Lukomorye to illumine these people with the light of Christ's faith. Oh, Lord! How terrible is their life.. Why do they not live a meaningful life, but grovel like reptiles, or wander in the dark? Did You not create them in Your own image and likeness? Hast Thou not breathed into the savage's soul? Have You not given reason to the savage also? You gave, yes. Thou hast given to the savages a living soul, and a mind, and Thy image, but they have not yet understood the path to eternal bliss, have not yet learned to pray to Thee, to ask and thank Thee, the Giver of blessings.. When they look at the sky shining with stars, do they see angels, are these stars for them the eyes of the celestials? No... And that is why their souls are cold, their eyes do not light up with the fires of joy. They see the sky and do not understand what is seen. The firmament of heaven frightens them, only frightens them. In heaven they do not see Thee, O Lord! They fall to the ground in fear at the flash of lightning, at thunderclaps. They say: then the evil spirit is angry... But are not the lightnings and thunder from where Thy Throne is?.. Lord, Lord!"... Among the waves of the White Sea, on an island called Solovki, in 1436, the construction of a cell for a monastic settlement laid the foundation for the northern monastery. Soon the monk Zosima built here a wooden church of the Transfiguration of the Lord, enclosing it with a fence. This church served as the basis for the construction of the future monastery. Soon the news of the new monastery spread throughout Russia, and pilgrims from all parts of the state began to flock to it. In 1465 the relics of the Monk Sabbatius, who was the first to come to the White Sea and settled on the Solovetsky Island, near Mount Sekirnaya, were transferred to Solovki. Seeing kalika on the porch of the church or meeting a black man in the street, Mitrophan invited them to his place and, regaling them with everything that was in the house, asked them about the new monastery, about the people inhabiting the far northern land, about the pagan nomads, in particular. In turn, the pilgrim who visited Lukomorye wanted to share his impressions, which were brighter or paler, depending on the narrator. A simple townsman could not share what he saw so smoothly, so eloquently, so generously, as a more literate monk or a passer-by, who had spent a lot of time in his lifetime among all kinds of people, who had seen a lot, who had heard enough of all sorts of stories, tales and stories, and borrowed something from the language of the eloquents. And in the warmth of the priest's house, at the table on which the viands and refreshments were smoking, the tongue was still more loose and the conversation flowed endlessly. Mitrophan listened to the or kalika, and the life of the Pomorians was depicted before him in its entirety. Everything in this life was unusual, everything was different — a different way of life, different morals.Mitrophan asked the black-haired man:"And you, father, did you see a lopi when you were with the Monk Sabbatius?" No, where could he see her! It is far from the monastery. She does not believe in Christ, so why should she come to the holy monastery? I've heard it. People said: "That wicked ravine lives, like a wild beast." They cover themselves with the skin of deer, and all are only raw-eaters.— And the Solovetsky monks do not come to them in the wilderness?— The Lord knows. Maybe they are apostles.—Father, this burst cannot always remain in darkness! Mitrophan exclaimed with a sort of bitterness. The monk threw up his hands. "The Lord desires all men to be saved, and to come to the understanding of the truth. He suffered for all, and therefore He opens the embrace of His Divine love to all. Verily, there will be a day when all the tongues will turn to Him, and there will be one flock, and one Shepherd.From the kaliks passing by, Mitrophan learned more about Pomorye and the Pomeranian people, although the kaliks also did not always and not everyone saw the wild burst, but they did not stop at the fiction with which they sprinkled the truth. Some of them happened to meet Lapps in Moscow, where passers-by were always drawn to the kalik for the reason that nowhere did they find so many benefactors as in the capital city. For the story, for the spiritual verse, the kalIka received not only a bountiful meal in the boyar's house, but also a night's lodging on a downy bed.Mitrofan was curious: Did the kalika meet with the lop and where?- Have I happened, oh, happened, - he answered, and answered as if the word "burst" was associated with the memory of the horror he had experienced.- Where did you meet them? Mitrophan inquired, and his heart was beating anxiously. "Isn't it in the Solovetsky Monastery?" I saw a burst, it should not be remembered by nightfall, and in Moscow near the Grand Duke's palace.Mitrophan alerted his ears and leaned forward."Well! Well!— Well, in, she is an animal image. Covered with fur, just like an undead. The arms are long, long, and the eyes have a green tint.- But these are people, kalika, eh, people?- They are called people, but there is little human-likeness in them.- And they are not dumb, are they?- What mute, they babble. The bailiffs, in, understand them. The bailiffs, you know, have been to those places. They are wise people. They don't just have a burst, they are with a sirin bird, and they can interpret with it.— And is it a crook, kalIkushka, that the lop has a dog's head, and the eyes are on the chest? but the kalika could not confirm the lie about the lop to Mitrophan. He did not dare to deceive the pure soul of the youth.And Mitrophan would not have believed if he had lied. He felt it. "Lop are the same people as we are, only dark, forgotten by everyone" – such a conviction formed in Mitrophan, and no one was able to dissuade him from this. He found out everything about the life of Pomorye. And the more he heard about the distant land, the more obvious it became to him that this wilderness was impassable, wild, hopeless. Mitrofan took note of everything that was told to him about the far North, both the truth and fairy tales. He weighed everything in his own way. The truth introduced him to the wild burst, the fairy tales made him think more and more about its bitter existence, sympathizing with it more and more. The desire to lead the savages to the proper path took possession of Mitrophan's whole being, and with this desire he, aflame, lived. Oh, what a great and truly worthy feat it is to lead one's neighbor out of the darkness of error and show him how to live in God! But precisely because this is a great feat, it is frightening.. How to start? What to do? Where to get the power of persuasion? Where can we get spiritual power and the gift of speech? Mitrophan stopped powerless before these questions..."The Apostle Paul, preaching Christianity, made a deep impression with his speeches, captivating the thought and feelings of his listeners. Saint John was rightly called Chrysostom. They knew how to "burn the hearts of people with words," and their sermons served to the greater triumph of the Christian Church. And what can I do? The lad pondered. "Poor in spirit and poor in word. My word will not penetrate into anyone's heart and will not evoke in anyone either a grateful response, or tears of tenderness, or joy that has not been experienced before, the joy of turning to God." And the North, the distant, desolate North, seemed to be calling him more and more insistently, and the savages, it seemed to him, moving in the darkness, stretched out their hands to the places holy to the believer, where majestic temples shine and the people pray to the true God, the Almighty, the All-Bountiful, the Long-suffering and the Most Merciful. "What to do? What should I do? How can we enter the path of preaching Christ?" thought Mitrophan. Everything that was at hand and that could be gleaned from the Holy Scriptures, Mitrophan read all this, the Gospel, the Acts of the Holy Apostles knew by heart. He read and heard about the preaching of the Apostle Andrew on the site of today's Kiev, about the labors of Equal-to-the-Apostles Vladimir; the tortures of Christians under the Roman emperors, iconoclasm, and he knew about them. On the one hand, the stock of knowledge was obvious, but on the other, the greatness of the mission was overwhelming. And Mitrophan was completely lost.He tried to talk to his father about the preaching of Christianity among the Lapps. The priest did not even suspect what this conversation was leading to, it seemed that the inquisitive mind of his son wanted to embrace everything, and nothing more. It did not even occur to him that Mitrophan was sick in his soul for some unknown people.- Is the preacher's feat difficult? Mitrophan inquired. "It's hard, my son," the priest answered, "and you need to have special training for this, father?" Without knowledge of the Holy Scriptures, how is it possible? And even more so faith. A word without faith in the mouth of a preacher is a stone, not spiritual food. The Lord Himself is behind the believer. And the more exalted, the stronger the faith, the closer God is. He helps the believer. It is known that without faith nothing truly great has been accomplished. And it will not be accomplished. Christ made simple fishermen wise and made them "fishers of men." He exalted the humble to the seventh heaven. It happened that kings also fell into the dust. The Apostle Peter – who he was, remember. His father's words sank deep into Mitrophan's soul, full of worries for the organization of the life of the Pomorians. "Christ made simple fishermen wise and made them fishers of men." Yes, yes... Whoever He wants to exalt, He will exalt... Meanwhile, the years passed, and Mitrofan turned 28 years old. He was digging into the cold distance, and an inner voice held him. Mitrophan heard this voice, he said to him: "Where are you going? Podvig is difficult. Can you cope with the trials?" and Mitrophan lowered his head. And pain, sharp pain, tormented his loving heart. Once, going out of town, for his soul was heavy, he suddenly heard a voice in the field. Someone speaks, and who is unknown. There is no one around. Meanwhile a voice cried out to him: "Go and cry out, for I have remembered you with mercy, and the betrothal of my love will not be destroyed. Go to the uninhabited land, in which there are no paths, to the thirsty land, for man has not walked in it, nor has man dwelt." And the answer was heard: "I am Jesus, Whom you seek." I am ignorant! "Do not speak against anything, for I will send you to everything, and you will go, and whatever I command you, you will say; do not be afraid, for I am with you," said the Saviour.And again everything was silent.But in Mitrophan's ears these mysteriously spoken words sounded for a long time... He trembled; a peculiar ecstasy seized his whole being, and a certain ineffable warmth suddenly blew over him. "Go and cry out... Go into a land uninhabited, in which there are no paths, into a thirsty land, for a man hath not walked in it..." God, God! Is it for me? He looks around again. No, he's alone here." The earth is waiting for me... uninhabited... thirsty... me, weak!". The words came to his mind: "Blessed is the life of the wilderness, which is screaming with divine fervor." He heard them at matins... Weeping with joy, which is called unearthly, Mitrophan knelt down and began to pray fervently. He prayed for a long time. "Lord, thank You, help me there – in a land uninhabited and thirsty! Give me strength and strength! Holy Immortal, enlighten my mind, that I may glorify Thy name to the end of my life!" Returning home, he told about everything that had happened to him. The old priest threw up his hands."Mitrofanushka, where are you going, son! You are leaving us, the old ones! Where are you going?— There, to the thirsty land.The family cried, the family cried, and the father blessed Mitrophan... "Having understood the words of the Lord, Mitrophan began to actively prepare for the fulfillment of the calling to preach the Gospel to the pagans about the Redeemer of the world, Christ. He began to attend the temple of God even more zealously, and the rest of the time he spent in the wilderness in strict abstinence. And then he left his homeland and went where the Lord showed him" (see: Hieromonk Nicodemus. "St. Tryphon, the enlightener of the Lapps"), namely to the Kola side, to the Pechenga River.He parted with his native Torzhok and the benefits of worldly life forever.

Face to face