On the eve of the old one thousand nine hundred and ninety-seven we listened all day to the great civil matter. By evening, everyone was tired. I wanted to ease the tension. And how it was filmed at that time, to explain too much. I was in a hurry to go home, so after drinking a couple of glasses of vodka, I went out to the yard and saw that a blizzard was playing out there.
In the parking lot, covered with snow, my jigulena was waiting.
Sober, I wouldn’t dare go into such a storm. But it is known that the drunken sea knee. Visibility was zero. The roads are closed. At the intersection, I didn’t notice the lights coming in front of the vehicle. As a result, my car drove into the «Moskvich-heel».
There was one driver there. Thank God there were no serious consequences.
Nevertheless, the accident was made according to all the rules, we were taken for examination, which showed that I am in a mild degree of intoxication.
In the morning I had to make amends. I did everything right. Three days later, Moskvich was restored, the victim was paid compensation.
But the main lesson was ahead. Deep emotional experiences did not pass. Regret about what happened did not let go, no matter what he did.
At that time, I was taking my first steps in church.
He attended services in the churches of Moscow, read spiritual literature.
He began to resort to church sacraments.
He didn’t have a confessor. He listened to the advice of priests or more experienced parishioners.
On Sunday I decided to go to confession. There was a desire to visit the Don monastery.
Unfortunately, I overslept and planned for the early Liturgy. At first I was upset and thought to postpone the trip. But, obeying an insistent internal call, he gathered, sipped tea and ran to the tram stop.
An invisible struggle has taken over my being. On one side there was a whisper:
— Where are you going? It’s all in vain.
But another voice said,
— Come on, nothing’s lost.
In this state he entered the Great Cathedral of the Don Monastery, where he had previously been. On the left and right were the priests. There were believers in the queue.
In the farthest corner I saw a crowd. It looked like a swarm of bees. Not a line, but a group of people clad tightly on someone.
My heart was racing. The inner voice repeated:
— Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.
Getting closer, I realized that people are trying to get through to the little old man sitting on a chair. He confessed to someone. It flashed through my head:
— It’s not gonna work here, fifty people.
Someone lamented:
— Oh, Father finished his confession. We’re already communing.
At this moment the confessor rose from his knees, and the elder rose behind him.
In an unexpectedly loud, loud voice, he announced:
Forgive me brothers and sisters, that’s all for today.
People complained that they could not convey their sorrows to the elder.
But no one dispersed, but simply looked at the monk as a living icon. Many cried. And suddenly, he says:
Give way to the good man behind everyone, let him come to me.
The people parted and looked back. The elder pointed at me, and then, smiling, invited him with his hand.
Not understanding what was going on, I went like a cotton ball. An unknown force led me forward. It was like a dream. I remember my legs shaking, I found myself on my knees, face to face with the old man already sitting on the chair.
I could not say anything, tears streamed from my eyes.
In the meantime, patting my head affectionately, he did it himself:
Well, I figured out how to drive drunk. What sin can we go to?
I was amazed. I was soaking something, like:
— I understood my father and roared again.
Well, calm down, our Lord is merciful, and if he sees the soul repent, he forgives it. And you need to watch yourself. An example to set. You’re right to come here.
I calmed down a little. Oh, my father covered me with epitrachil and said a prayer. Then I looked down and asked:
— You got it?
I said firmly:
— Yeah, got it.
He smiled, and I was overwhelmed by an unprecedented state. The gentle voice of the father, a kind look, a smile, had a strong effect on the soul. This has never been experienced before. Something distant, childlike, was like him. You seemed to tell me:
Sergius, die at the feet of the elder, and I would gladly die.
We got up, I kissed the cross and the gospel. He, blessing me, whispered:
— Go to the cup and take communion.
— Father, I did not prepare, I did not fast.
— Nothing. If I admit it, you can.
You need communion now. Go, don’t be embarrassed. With God.
He overshadowed me with the sign of the cross.
When I left, I caught the bright eyes of people who still did not depart from the elder.
It is impossible to describe the state with which I returned. Joy filled my heart. The dull colors of the city changed to bright, festive. I didn’t take the tram. I walked. The legs were there. He flew seven miles without feeling tired.
It was the first meeting with a man of holy life.
It was enough to strengthen the faith.
I no longer simply believed, I knew that our Church had a true doctrine of salvation. Because in its bosom there are ascetics who reveal the secrets of human souls.
Unfortunately, I no longer had the chance to communicate with the wonderful father. Only after many years did I learn that he was a well-known Moscow elder, an inhabitant of the Donskoy Monastery — Archimandrite Daniel (Sarychev). He is buried in the necropolis of this monastery.
The spiritual children of Father Daniel still flock to his grave.
Here they continue to pray with him, sharing adversity and receiving consolation. I am now joining them.
Father Daniel, pray for us!
Author:
Sergei Martusov
The Holy Land Charitable Foundation
Soul investment!
Orthodox stories from life
