The history of my church ministry began with the fact that I became a watchman at the temple. Do you think it is “spiritual” here? Sit yourself, look at those who come, answer the phone, at night bypass the territory, and in winter throw coal into the fireplace.
Yet never in my life have I read so much spiritual literature and prayed so fervently and diligently as in that period. I’ve met the most extraordinary people, got into the most absurd situations, but only now, as a priest, I realize: This is how God “prepared” me for pastoral service.
I had to deal with both drug addicts and alcoholics. They were usually night visitors. Someone calmed himself, someone had to call an ambulance or police. During the day I was overwhelmed by visitors of a different kind. Often people came not particularly churched and began to demand something, sometimes the most unthinkable. I remember one of these visitors for the rest of my life.
“Baby, my cat died, I want to sing it, how to do it?” – that’s what once asked me the dearest grandmother who came to the temple. To my serious and full of theological wisdom, she answered me no less reasonable: “For me, my cat was like a man, and even better than some people!” Her decision to sing a furry friend could not shake any of my arguments. And then Father Vladimir came to help, at that time a staff priest of the Trinity Church of Krasnoyarsk.
Having listened to my grandmother, he suddenly said, “Yes, of course, we’ll sing now.” What was the cat’s name? All the participants in this tragicomedy were shocked: I could not believe that Father was going to go against the teachings of the Holy Church and the Holy Fathers, and the eyes of my dear grandmother shone with the realization of her victory.
But the next line of Father Vladimir put everything in place: “Yes, by the way, your cat is baptized?” Did he profess Orthodoxy? Unexpected! Turns out not. When it became clear that the request was impossible, Grandma had to leave. Nevertheless, she had an incredible determination in her eyes. Such a look happens to a child who at all costs decided to ask his mother for a new toy in the store.
A week later, a familiar visitor again stood on the threshold of the temple. Before I could open my mouth, she blurted out, “I want to baptize a cat!” She had a small fluffy lump in her arms. For my good fortune, Father Vladimir was not far away.
When he found out what was going on, he said with his usual equanimity and efficiency: “Of course, we will baptize!” and again the moment of triumph of a sweet old woman. — Just need a cat to learn the symbol of faith by heart. Can it? She sighed sadly.
Don’t think we just wanted to laugh at her. With these funny dialogues began our communication, which turned into a real friendship.
My grandmother was a very kind person. Every time I was on duty, she would come to the gatehouse and bring me a hotel. We drank tea and talked about life. A former prima ballerina, once a favorite of the public and a kidnapper of men’s hearts — now a lonely elderly man who needed communication. Growing up in Soviet times, she knew little about Orthodoxy. Gradually, this woman, who once so fiercely wanted to sing a cat, began to become interested in church life. She began to enter the temple, stood for a long time at services, fervently prayed at the icon of the Mother of God.
When I became a priest, the first person to come to my confession was her, the Margosha, as she asked me to call her. She was the first person I ever sang.
Sometimes, closing my eyes for a couple of seconds, I see her gray hair, tight hair, stiff, sick “professionally set” legs and hear her voice: “Baby, listen to what I tell you.” Do not live in youth, live in future old age. Because there is nothing worse than her, alone.”
And her cat purrs on her lap. The one who could not learn the Creed and remained unbaptized.
Prepared by Anastasia Spirin
Archpriest Dimitri Khartsyz
The Holy Land Charitable Foundation
Soul investment!
Orthodox stories from life
