The administration called the shootings in the camps "purge", and for some reason they were often carried out on the eve of Soviet holidays. From all the camp points, the doomed were brought to these days. The verdict was not read to anyone, but was taken to the gate, a group of prisoners on the list was gathered, and shot outside the gates in the ravines.

On August 19, 1943, when the prisoners were gathered at the watch and, as always, we were already standing for two hours, suddenly one of the doomed people laughed, at first quietly, then louder and louder. The laughter was ringing and joyful. Those around him tried to stop him, but to no avail. The laughter, nervous, contagious, continued, two or three more people laughed. I and others prayed. You know (Fr. Arseny addressed us), as a human being, I became frightened, I was seized with heartache for people who will die in a few minutes, and now are bursting with laughter. He prayed, making the sign of the cross over himself and those who laughed, and others did the same. I heard that there were two bishops in the group, whom I did not know, they were brought from distant camps. I was again summoned from the firing squad. I don't know why they were taken to the firing squad three times and returned back to the barracks. Intimidate? But the camp regime was tantamount to execution.

I happened to be a witness to miraculous phenomena and actions performed by deeply spiritual people who have traveled a long path of prayerful podvig, doing good and high pastoral service. Living next to them, I received grace from them, learned to pray and tried to be at least a little like they were.

Constantly standing in front of me was an old village priest of small stature, Fr. Hilarion, in monasticism John, with a kind face, lively eyes, and a long white beard. For almost two years I lived in a northern village in the Arkhangelsk region. The village was large, on the hill there was an ancient wooden church of amazing beauty, of old northern architectural splendor, with one dome over the church and the second over a small bell tower. The domes were covered with aspen chips and, depending on the sunlight, took on a golden or grayish-silver color. The church was ancient, but still strong. Entering it, I was involuntarily amazed at the abundance of icons hung on the walls, slightly darkened, but with clearly visible faces of saints. Several lamps were always burning, it was quite dark, and upon entering, a person involuntarily plunged into a prayerful state of detachment from the surrounding world, its vanity. The cleanliness in the church was extraordinary, only wax candles burned, no candles were brought from the city. They were made by the cleric, a young man who always served in the church. The choir consisted of five or six women, was well-organized and well-coordinated. On Sundays and feast days, there were fifty to sixty parishioners, and not only old men and women, but also young people.

Fr. Hilarion served exactly according to the rule, but he served in a special way, completely capturing the attention of the faithful, making them participants in the service. The prayers "I believe", "Our Father", "Who are the cherubim" were sung by the parishioners in a single spiritual impulse, with great delight. On Sundays and feast days, after a leisurely confession, 12-15 parishioners came to the communion chalice. For a rural church, this was a lot. There was no church wine, and Fr. Hilarion (the peasants called him "Larion") prepared it from the juice of raspberries, cranberries and honey and all the time lamented: "Lord! Thou didst say, "Of the fruit of the vine," and what am I doing? Will the Lord forgive me?"

At first, I could not comprehend why the parishioners listened so attentively and piously to the service. I have concelebrated with priests of great inner spirituality in Moscow churches, but I have rarely seen such an understanding and entry into divine services. Once, captured by Fr. Hilarion's service, he understood, comprehended – he served together with the people and as if among the people, he did not separate himself from the parishioners during the narrowing, he was with them and in them, so the special grace of the Lord overshadowed and united the worshipers. For about sixty years after graduating from the Archangel Seminary, he served daily in this church of the Holy Trinity, gave short sermons of moral content (although in those years when I lived in the village, sermons were forbidden) – sixty years of daily unfailing communication with parishioners. For advice, guidance, and reconciliation, the inhabitants of the village and surrounding villages went to him.

In the village, they loved and respected Fr. Hilarion, and they helped the church as much as they could. Fr.

Dried flowers, various kinds of herbs filled the house with an unusual smell, mixed with the smell of wax. There were few books on the shelves. Fr. Hilarion's wife died twenty years ago, I think in 1918; in 1923, five years after her death, with the permission of the ruling bishop, he took monastic vows with the name John. The tonsure was secret, so for the parishioners he still remained Fr. Hilarion, no one knew that he had become a monk. Only a year later he told me about it. He had two children: son Boris, who was killed in the First World War, and daughter Xenia, who died in 1925. Once a year they came to Fr. Hilarion, took care of him and always asked and persuaded him to go to them in Yaroslavl, saying that he was many years old and it was time to retire. Father Hilarion answered only one thing to all persuasions: "The Lord has called me to the village, here I want to end my days in the church of the Holy Trinity. I will not leave the parishioners, bound with my soul." Father Hilarion was eighty years old by the time I arrived in the village, but he was mobile, energetic, quick to do anything, carpenter, joiner, and led bees. Occasionally he went to the surrounding villages for services and grieved that he did not perform services in the church on those days.

I tell you in detail about Fr. Hilarion, because I saw his services, his attitude towards parishioners, his complete dissolution in podvig, deep faith and love for God and people. He was a true elder, endowed by the Lord for his ascetic life with the gift of clairvoyance and healing of the spiritually and physically suffering. I was the spiritual son of the Optina Elders Fr. Nektarios and Fr. Anatoly, I met with Elder Fr. Alexei Mechev, Bishop Bartholomew (Remov) and many spiritually outstanding priests and bishops, and I believe that Fr. Hilarion is worthily comparable to these great ascetics. I clearly understood the unattainable power of their faith and spiritual feat.

Удивляло, что в отдаленном селе простой сельский священник ежедневным служением в церкви в продолжение шестидесяти лет, постоянной духовной работой над собой и молитвой достиг высокого духовного совершенства. Благодарю Господа, что Он разрешил мне увидеть этого подвижника, пройти с ним хотя и короткий, но давший силы и научивший общению с людьми путь, что помогло в дальнейшем в малой мере помогать людям, окружавшим меня.

Власти запретили мне посещать церковь в селе, но удалось тайно совершить с о. Иларионом несколько литургий и вечерами постоянно молиться с ним в его доме, тоже тайно. Несколько раз я был свидетелем совершенных им исцелений людей, пораженных запущенными раковыми опухолями, умиравших от крупозного воспаления легких, пораженных инсультом, водянкой, другими болезнями. Люди избавлялись от смерти, вставали и начинали работать. В церкви была чудотворная икона “Знамение” Божией Матери Новгородская (празднование 10 декабря). Приходя к больному, о. Иларион полагал икону на него, долго и проникновенно молился и помазывал елеем, кропил святой водой и возлагал руки. Молясь, призывал помощь Божией Матери и святого, именем которого был наречен исцеляемый.

Странным было то, что исцеленный и его родные не всегда понимали, что на их глазах произошло чудо по молитве о. Илариона, самое настоящее и откровенное чудо, и воспринимали, что это так и должно быть, на то он и поп. Но я, иерей Арсений, приходил в духовный восторг от увиденного.

Примером чуда может служить и событие, случившееся при мне и оказавшее на жителей села большее впечатление, чем многие исцеления больных, совершенные о. Иларионом.

По дороге, проходившей через село, незнакомый мужик шел рядом с тяжело нагруженной телегой; дорогу развезло, грязь была по колено. Лошадь с трудом тащила телегу, выбиваясь из последних сил. Внезапно колеса провалились в глубокую яму, телега застряла. Возчик стегал лошадь по спине, потом толкал телегу; подошли несколько местных жителей, но сдвинуть телегу не смогли. Возчик озверел и, отчаянно ругаясь, стал хлестать лошадь кнутом под живот, после каждого удара оставался кровавый рубец. Окружающие возмутились, стали убеждать возчика пожалеть лошадь – она дрожала, слезы текли из глаз; но мужик бил и бил ее. Она дергалась вперед, дрожала, но вытащить телегу не могла. Жители села попытались вырвать кнут, возчик достал с воза топор и двинулся на протестующих, потом опять схватил кнут и с остервенением продолжал бить лошадь под живот. Я попытался вырвать кнут и остановить избиение, но он ударил меня в грудь, и я упал в грязь. Окружающие подняли меня... Возчик кричал: “Моя лошадь, хочу и бью”. Все понимали – лошадь он изуродует, вот-вот она должна была упасть.