Articles
- Worm of Doubt November 22, 2018
- No pop December 19, 2015
- “The actions of the elites thoughtlessly led Russia to the February coup” November 19, 2015
- The enchanting darkness of deception February 27, 2014
- Punishment of evil July 23, 2012
- How to learn to love? October 14, 2011
- "An angel flew across the midnight sky..." October 3, 2011
- Chereshenka October 3, 2011
- Saved for the "five-hat" September 19, 2011
- Who does envy kill? September 12, 2011
- Office: rats or people? September 5, 2011
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- The Traitor, or In Search of Fortitude August 22, 2011
- Beauty on loan August 15, 2011
- Catchers in a trap August 8, 2011
- “Alive in the help of the Most High...” August 1, 2011
- All-conquering love, or Before parting July 11, 2011
- Fan July 7, 2011
- Snowflakes, or Girls Keep Diaries July 1, 2011
- Alien Cinema June 27, 2011
- Recovery of victims of June 20, 2011
- Nadezhda June 13, 2011
- A random gift? Three lessons from Pushkin June 6, 2011
- Crime and repentance, or How to break the chain of sin May 31, 2011
- Slave May 25, 2011
- Wind Tenderness May 18, 2011
- If the son is a thief May 10, 2011
- A Tale of Devoted Love, or How to Forgive? May 4, 2011
- Life after happiness April 27, 2011
- Rescue ship April 18, 2011
- Maria Gorodova: “People want to read Christian literature” March 22, 2011
- Beauty on loan.
Sales idol demands living souls to be sacrificed June 15, 2010
Articles
- No pop December 19, 2015
- Wind Tenderness May 18, 2011
- Recovery of victims of June 20, 2011
- A random gift? Three lessons from Pushkin June 6, 2011
- “The actions of the elites thoughtlessly led Russia to the February coup” November 19, 2015
- If the son is a thief May 10, 2011
- “Alive in the help of the Most High...” August 1, 2011
- Life after happiness April 27, 2011
- How to learn to love? October 14, 2011
- Who does envy kill? September 12, 2011
- Rescue ship April 18, 2011
- Maria Gorodova - columnist " Russian newspaper”, the host of the “Correspondence” column, which receives huge mail from all over the country. The story of her life and the letters of the readers themselves formed the basis of her books “Wind Tenderness” and “Garden of Desires.” Both books became bestsellers and are difficult to obtain, especially for people living far from the capital. Therefore, based on numerous requests from readers and the proposal of the author, the Pravoslavie.ru portal begins publishing chapters from the book "Wind Tenderness".
Instead of a preface
This story began on a hot July day in 1998, when a loud noise was heard in our house. phone call and a man who introduced himself as a police officer from Ramenskoye near Moscow told me that my husband had died. My husband, Vasily Egorovich Babenko, a graduate of the Faculty of Journalism of Moscow State University, has already been working as a deputy editor at publishing house"Peasant Woman"; We were finally preparing, as a family, to move from Kursk to Moscow when this call came. I didn’t get ready for long: I threw some things into my bag, took our boys - twelve-year-old Petya and seven-year-old Georgy - and boarded the first train to Moscow to bury Vasya.
As the husband's friends later found out, he died trying to save an orphanage resident who was crossing railways. Eighteen-year-old Dima had headphones in his ears, and he simply could not hear the roar of a rapidly flying train. My Vasya, walking behind, rushed to save the young man - the last thing the old women saw selling greens on the platform was this Vasya’s jerk... He didn’t save, he himself died. So I was left alone, with two children.
After the funeral, the editor of the magazine where Vasya worked, wanting to support me, invited me to write for them, and I, either out of despair or out of naivety, grabbed it. I was not a journalist at all, I was a housewife, I had a diploma to my credit Faculty of Biology Moscow State University, and the only thing I could boast about in the field of journalism were two tiny notes in the Kultura newspaper, written because Vasya did not have time to write them himself. During the six months that Vasya worked at Krestyanka, almost everyone fell in love with him - for his decency, for his patience, for the fact that he was a hard worker. And this respect later helped me more than once. To this day, the name of my husband, who never held any special positions - never had time - opens for me the doors of the very serious offices of his comrades.This death, so unexpected, was a very strong blow. And not only for me - for the children. I remember there was a difficult moment before the funeral: my youngest could not accept his father’s death so much, his protest against what had happened was so strong that he refused to go to both the funeral and the funeral service. Then I, confused, not knowing what to do, called Bishop John, Archbishop of Belgorod and Stary Oskol, who baptized our children and me four years earlier. I called out of despair, in trouble, not knowing what to do. And the bishop, from the other end of the country, talked with Gosha for a very long time, comforting and convincing, until he convinced him that he had to go to the father’s funeral service.
I decided not to return to Kursk. Firstly, I understood that I wouldn’t find a job there, and secondly, because I simply wanted to escape from the pain. I repeat, for the last six months we were forced to live in two houses, and every time Vasya came, with early morning we were waiting for him, peering at how he was hurrying towards us along the long concrete road to the house... Looking from the window at the road, knowing that no one would come along it, was unbearable.
My world, the world of my family, collapsed, and I had to learn to live again. Where how? Dont clear. But it immediately became clear that it was impossible to cry. My boys literally clung to me, not letting go of my hands for a minute; their eyes were absolutely confused, they peered into mine in fear. And I understood: the main thing now is to hold on. Because as soon as I lost control of myself and tears welled up in my eyes, they immediately burst out too. For them, the death of their beloved father was not just a loss - the foundations of their life were crumbling. The youngest started having spasms from crying and had a headache...
Everything was rapidly going to hell - there was no stopping it, so I firmly understood only one thing - I had to hold on. Those who remembered me at that time later said: everyone was surprised when, in response to condolences and sympathetic questions about how I was going to live further, I confidently reported that everything would be fine with us, that I had already been offered a job at “Peasant”, and I'm about to find a place to live. As one journalist later said: “Masha smiled all the time, and it was scary.” It's actually simple: as long as you smile, it's hard to cry.
I really very quickly rented some shack in Voskresensk near Moscow - I wouldn’t have had enough money to rent an apartment in Moscow. This is how my other life began.
I, until that day protected by the love of my husband, had a rather vague idea of how to make money. She raised children, wrote poetry, cooked borscht. Now my greatest fear was that I would not be able to feed my children. I remember how, during confession in the Ilyinsky Church, in Kursk, where I went immediately after the funeral, an old priest (I think his name was Luke) told me: “Pray and do not be afraid of anything, widows are in Christ’s bosom.” I remember how, sinfully, I thought: “It’s easy to say, but what do I need to live on?”, but there was some kind of enormous truth in these words.
I remember how I was summoned to “Krestyanka” in order to give back the salary Vasya had not received and some other money owed. I remember well how the accountant Marina Borisovna, looking at me carefully and forcing me to recalculate the amount received several times, very accentuated, emphasizing every word, said: “Maria, hide the money away,” apparently, despite the smile and confident look, I still instilled fears in her. I remember how I left the gray high-rise publishing house and went to the metro, how a yellow shield appeared before my eyes exchange office, as I almost automatically entered the nook of the exchanger. I know for sure that without fully realizing what I was doing, for some reason I changed all the money given to me into dollars, leaving only change for transport. I know for sure that at that moment I didn’t understand well what I was doing, and I could have easily been deceived... A few days later the default occurred, and the dollars that I exchanged that day fed us for almost six months. The most difficult six months, when publications were closed, nothing was paid anywhere and even the most venerable journalists sat without work and money.
To be honest, some things that were akin to a miracle accompanied me for a long time. For example, without having a residence permit and permanent job, I easily arranged for my boys to study in the best school Voskresensk, and they were surrounded there with such care that we have never encountered either before or since. As it turned out later, the director of this school, Roza Nikolaevna Utesheva, once had her husband die under similar circumstances, and she did everything so that the boys would thaw out in the new place. The first year I went to work in Moscow from Voskresensk near Moscow, the children did not leave me alone, and I took them with me.
I think I was lucky in journalism too: even my first materials were immediately included in the issue. The very first was with Yan Arlazorov, and he liked him so much that Yan Mayorovich helped me take the next interview - with Gennady Khazanov. Those who have ever encountered glossy journalism know that it takes professionals years to reach such stars. I didn’t have this time, I had to feed my children every day and pay for a rented apartment.
Everyone says that I was lucky when Alla Pugacheva sang a song to my poems, written at the request of the very talented composer Sasha Lukyanov. The fact that the text “Caution, leaf fall!” fell into the hands of Alla Borisovna, it was an accident, a happy coincidence - call it whatever you like: after all, before, when I lived in Kursk, I wrote poems and even sent some of them to Pugacheva, but I never got into a hit " And that year, all autumn, every evening I returned home from work to the accompaniment of my song, which sounded from every window. I was not just glad, it was not a matter of the author’s vanity - although, of course, it was nice. Everything was much more prosaic: Alla Borisovna immediately paid very decently for my poems - it was real money, which allowed me not to have to get more and more work, and gave me the opportunity to sleep off once again. In general, that year both Masha Rasputina and Lev Leshchenko sang songs based on my poems; During that first year, I made a professional breakthrough - I interviewed Igor Krutoy, Laima Vaikule, Tatyana Tolstoy.
And then there were Armen Dzhigarkhanyan, Vakhtang Kikabidze, Nikolai Drozdov, Yuri Shevchuk, Edita Piekha, David Tukhmanov, Sergei Zhigunov, Tigran Keosayan, Kristina Orbakaite, Alla Pugacheva...
But perhaps the biggest miracle happened when I started writing religious materials. One day in “Peasant Woman,” just before the issue was due, some material fell out, and they hastily decided to give a text dedicated to Christmas on the free space. By that time, I had already established myself as a journalist, everyone knew that I was a believer, so they entrusted me with the task. With whom to make the material? For me there was no question here. I called the Archbishop of Belgorod and Stary Oskol, Bishop John. Luckily, on that day, November 9, 1999, he happened to be passing through Moscow, and we did our first interview. I liked the material: it contained the living, ardent faith of the Bishop, and tact towards readers who were just beginning their path to God, and depth of thought, and subtlety of feelings, and also the ability to speak simply about complex things. Therefore, the editors decided to continue the topic, and I very soon realized that for me these articles were salvation.
The fact is that glossy journalism is a rather tough thing for those who work in it. Intense competition between publications and authors, the high pace dictated by the constant kaleidoscope of celebrities - all this leads to the fact that a person working there quickly wears out and is used up. In addition, the so-called gloss is often a world without rules, screwed up by its very essence, because success becomes the measure of everything there - an extremely crafty category.
Here everything was different: imagine, I could ask about what really interested me - about what sin is and how to come to repentance, what God’s Providence is and how to recognize God’s will for myself... I could ask about all this, and not just anyone - an archbishop! I interviewed, then transcribed it all in detail, wrote, happily discovering for myself new world plunging into space Holy Scripture. And then they printed it and even paid money! For me, living unsustainably - permanent rented apartments, working in several places - these materials, which had to be handed over every month, created the skeleton, the framework of my life. They became my support. Spiritual support.
You can sleep on the kitchen floor in a rented apartment, but feel absolutely happy if you wrote a wonderful material called “Salvation Ship.”
I still believe that the opportunity to write these interviews was some kind of amazing, unheard of gift for me. And then I was most afraid that for some reason this might end. Writing such materials is extremely difficult (every believer will understand me), because temptations constantly arise. And to be honest, for a long time I was offended by the bishop because he did not warn me what I would have to face - after all, the eldest child warns about what is dangerous. For some reason this was not the subject of our conversation. But on the other hand, when things got too complicated and I couldn’t cope with it, I could always call Vladyka John and ask something about the text, to clarify something, and usually everything calmed down. Sometimes, due to weakness, it was very difficult to write such materials. But if you nevertheless wrote, having licked the article to the last comma, the material has gone into the issue, then the feeling of flight, inner uplift, light and joy that overwhelms you inside cannot be compared with anything.
Very quickly I felt that this was the most important thing I was doing. This incident was further proof of this. I remember I went into the editorial review department to ask the proofreader for the night “Symphony” - a book where keyword I found exact biblical quotes. I didn’t have time to do this during the day because I was writing other material at the same time, so I decided to ask for the book to take home. “Yes, take it, for God’s sake,” said our proofreader Zhanna. And she continued, surprised at what she was saying: “In all this time, no one in the editorial office has asked us for this “Symphony.” Only you and... your Vasya!”
My Vasya was not a churchgoer. Decent - yes, he was. He was, as they call it, " pure in heart“- I, for example, have never heard him condemn anyone or say anything bad about anyone. But he was not a church member, he didn’t have time... But it turns out that in recent months he needed this book in his life... For me at that moment, a lot came together. If the feeling that someone was leading me had visited me before, then at that moment I felt that this was really so, with particular acuteness.
I lived both hard and surprisingly happily at the same time, and for some reason it seemed to me that nothing bad would happen to me. Bishop John and I were already planning to make a book from our materials - everyone convinced us that it was time, when my eldest son, nineteen-year-old Petya, died.
Petya was a second-year student at the Faculty of Applied Mathematics and Physics of Moscow aviation institute, having entered there on my own, and was already becoming a real support for me. He helped in all my endeavors, typed my materials on the computer, and many of the questions and topics included in the interview were suggested by him. That day, after passing the exam, Petya went with the guys to sunbathe in Serebryany Bor, left his family and disappeared.
We searched for Petya for four days - calling hospitals, morgues, and the police. On the fifth day they found him, beaten, in the river. For what, who? So it’s unclear. From my pure, childishly open Petya, who, apart from his mathematics and physics, naive youthful poems and guitar, still knew nothing in life, and there was nothing to take. When they found him, beaten, he was wearing only panties and a cross...
I remember I’m standing near the morgue where my child lies, I have to go, do something, sign some papers, but I can’t move, and it seems like life itself is flowing out of me. Moreover, it’s scary that you don’t even resist this anymore - you can’t, because this life itself is devalued by what happened. And I still remember the funeral service. Petya was a believing boy, he had been going to church for a long time on his own, without me, obeying his inner impulses, a week before terrible day confessed and received communion. And either because they loved Petya, or because they knew that he was a believer, a lot of his friends came to the funeral service; I didn’t even suspect that he had so many of them.
Of course, because so many people have come to share your pain with you, it becomes easier. But all the same, it’s very hard, even just physically hard, to stand at the coffin of your child, and only that there’s a hand in your hand youngest son, and then there’s mom and dad, that’s the only thing that keeps you going. And here, in the temple, at some point, when I was not so much praying as trying to pray, I suddenly realized with distinct clarity that my love for Petya, just like his for me, had not gone away. That I feel it, and with that primordial strength that we are rarely given the opportunity to experience in ordinary life.
And it suddenly became obvious that for this love there are no boundaries that exist between our world and that world, that love really “never ceases,” and this love is more obvious than the reality of the coffin standing in front of you. It seems to me that it was from that moment, in the temple, that life began to return to me.
One Optina elder compared sorrows to a drill of God, which opens a source of prayer in a person. This is true. When this happens, you pray - constantly, simply because otherwise you won’t survive, it’s necessary condition survival. When I got a little stronger, the question “what to do?” He wasn’t even standing in front of me. I took our 58 interviews and sat down with the book “Love is patient,” plunging into the space of the Bible, the bishop’s stories, prayers and Christian poetry. This book, I believe, saved me twice. Can I forget about this?
Prayer for grace
Lord our God! All my good is in You. How can I endure all the troubles and misfortunes of this life if Thy mercy and Thy grace do not support me? Do not turn Your face away from me, do not delay Your visit, do not take away Your consolation, so that my soul does not turn into a parched desert! Teach me, Lord, to do Your will! Teach me to stand before You with dignity and humility. For You are my wisdom!
(To be continued.)
We recently introduced our readers to the amazing book by Archbishop John of Belgorod and Maria Gorodova, “Love is patient.” The book receives a lot of responses, it does not sit on the shelves, it is read by both young people and older people. Maria’s story about her life (see below the first letter) truly amazed many: both the Russian newspaper and the Pravmir portal received many letters. We publish Maria's answer to one of them:
I simply cannot help but respond to one very difficult letter. A letter in which this pulsates sharp pain, which I think I’m not alone in, we should all share it. The letter is extremely frank, so I changed some details, the rest is verbatim - you yourself will understand why.“I want to lie down and not wake up...”
“Hello dear Maria, daughter, I think that such treatment is forgivable to me. Recently I came across the “Rossiyskaya Gazeta” with a story about how you wrote a book with Archbishop John “Love is long-suffering”, with your confession “Ship of Salvation”. I also have grief. It’s been six months since I live, I don’t drink, I don’t eat, I don’t sleep. Six months ago, my son died in a car accident. I was left completely alone. I lost my husband eight years ago, I had a hard time going through everything, I was hospitalized for six months, but my little son, my little blood, pulled me through. And then six months ago he left too. Tell me, why? I had good son, kind, reliable, responsive. I was behind him like behind a stone wall, and I knew that no matter what happened, my son would not leave me, I felt his care every second. And now life has lost all meaning. Yes, my son had many friends, more than a hundred people came to the funeral, and they still call now, asking what I need. They say sympathetic words, but no one can understand and feel how my heart is torn from pain. Mashenka, I’m writing to you, in front of me is “Rossiyskaya Gazeta”, I’m looking at the article. Where can I find the strength to move on? How to live? Is it three o'clock in the morning or night? I haven’t fallen asleep yet; the apartment is as quiet as a tomb. And if I lie down and fall asleep, I will still wake up, and there will be the same emptiness in the house. I am a believer, I know that despair is a sin, that asking God for death is a sin, I know everything, but it’s so hard for me that I want to lie down and not wake up, and I ask God to stop my heart... Forgive me for my confusion letter, but I think you’ll understand.” And the signature is Nadya.
There are a lot of letters in which you, dear readers, talk about your losses. But this... I can’t help but answer.
When there's hope left
Dear Nadezhda, I’m sorry that it’s not your middle name - you didn’t indicate it, signing simply Nadya. But Nadya is short for Nadezhda. And I would like to address you exactly like this: dear Nadezhda. So, dear Nadezhda, I understand and share your pain. Death is always a loss. And also a huge blow that is difficult to bear. Very hard. Sometimes it even seems that we cannot do it. This is how despair arises. But there are people around, and God is everywhere. But the feeling of despair, well, even that, as one saint noted, passes. You see, Nadezhda, despair was familiar even to the saints - otherwise they would not have paid so much attention in their instructions to how to deal with it.
Nadezhda, everything that you are experiencing now is very familiar to me. I think it's not just me.
You can't live alone with emptiness
Pain, fear of loneliness, orphanhood - all this is familiar to everyone who has lost - no matter whether a loved one, or simply someone whom he managed to love... Let us remember how many losses our beloved actors brought only last year. Your loved one has passed away, the words at the wake have faded away, and you are truly left alone with your loss, alone with the emptiness, and not so much the emptiness in your home, but most importantly, the emptiness in your soul. How correctly you write: “There is no one to call, no one to wait for, no one to care about.” And this emptiness is truly destructive. You can’t live with it, it’s dangerous to look at it, you can’t put up with it. There is only one way out - it must be filled. But with what? What can replace a smile for us? loved one, the laughter of a child, the affectionate look of a wife? Metropolitan Anthony (Sourozhsky) wrote that the emptiness that arises after the departure of a loved one should not be artificially filled with something small and insignificant. Nothing will come of it anyway. Just as nothing good comes of it if we simply try to forget ourselves - no matter in what way. As you, Nadezhda, subtly and accurately noticed, it, this emptiness, again gapes victoriously in front of you, causing new pain. This void can only be filled. Moreover, what we fill it with must be worthy of our love for the departed.
In 1164, during the campaign of Prince Andrei Bogolyubsky against Volga Bulgaria, his beloved son, the young Prince Izyaslav, died. In memory of his son, Prince Andrei founded a temple on a riverside meadow. For more than nine centuries, over the floods of the Nerl and Klyazma, violating all known laws of nature, overcoming the very weight of the stone, the dazzling snow-white candle of the temple flies up to the sky. The victory of spirit over matter, the triumph of our love over separation, a breakthrough through the gaping abyss of two worlds there, into eternity, to God. Church of the Intercession on the Nerl, a masterpiece of world architecture.
Death itself is always meaningless, no matter whether it is the 12th century or the 21st. But, if our love for the departed is strong, if it is stronger than our self-pity, then sooner or later a moment comes when we no longer think about our pain, our orphanhood, our future loneliness. We think about the departed. And then our love for someone who is already beyond the laws of this world, in its entirety, can be expressed in only one thing - in prayer to God for him. And if this happened, no matter what it was expressed in - that we built a temple, or that we simply lit a candle for the deceased in this temple - whoever is able to do what, then this death takes on meaning. Moreover, Nadezhda, it turns out that this death can fill something different, new, more deep meaning the lives of those who stayed here.
"Don't say there is no salvation..."
And further. Nadezhda, you wrote your letter at night, and night, as has long been noted, is not the most suitable comforter. It is not for nothing that in the prayers “for the coming sleep” our request to the Lord is so often repeated that He would send us “An Angel of Peace, a guardian and mentor of soul and body” so that he would deliver us “from our enemies.” That is, in the evening, in advance, we ask God for protection, protecting ourselves “from the fear of the night.”
For the majority of the Orthodox reading public in the Belgorod region, the name of journalist Maria Gorodova is associated with two famous books“Ship of Salvation” and “Love is Long-Suffering,” written in collaboration with Metropolitan John of Belgorod and Stary Oskol. They contain interviews with the Bishop, given by him for the magazine “Peasant”. Currently, Maria Gorodova is a columnist for Rossiyskaya Gazeta. Here she maintains a regular column, answering questions related to attitudes towards Orthodoxy, faith, moral values. The fruit of the work was the new books “Tenderness Wind”, “Garden of Desires” and “Flame of Fire”, which were written in the form of correspondence between the author and readers. The author has a huge mail from all over the country. Readers share their most intimate things, talk about everyday difficulties and family troubles, their weaknesses and downfalls, miraculous salvation and gaining faith in God. Responding to their letters, Maria Gorodova does not judge them for their mistakes, does not praise them for their deeds, but tries to turn their gaze to Christ, so that the authors of the letters, seeing themselves through the prism of Christian commandments, themselves evaluate their actions and answer their own questions.
October 27 in Voronezh, in a bookstore trading network"Amital", with the participation of correspondents from "Rossiyskaya Gazeta", a meeting of the writer Maria Gorodova with readers was held, at which her new works were presented.The task of a journalist is to talk about what he saw, to present the events or interlocutor as fully and vividly as possible. But time passes, and some authors grow into publicists, with personal level perception of things and deep disclosure of the essence of problems. And then their own civil position and originality of thinking are the focus of press attention. This is exactly what happened with Maria Gorodova. Once upon a time, she did heartfelt, captivatingly frank interviews with popular artists and writers, with priests and bishops. Now she herself has become an object for correspondents. She generously shares her accumulated everyday, professional and spiritual experience with colleagues and readers of other publications.
As often happens, Maria Gorodova did not intend to become a journalist. She graduated from the Faculty of Biology of Moscow State University, got married, gave birth to two sons and was busy with household chores, as if this was her calling. But tragic death her husband in 1998, who died saving an unknown young man, tore her out of her already established way of life. “My world, the world of my family, collapsed, and I had to learn to live again. Where how? It’s unclear,” - this is how Maria Gorodova writes her biography with naked pain in the article “Ship of Salvation.” God's providence forced her to move in a completely different direction. Work in the glossy magazine “Peasant Woman”, where they were invited more out of compassion than for professional excellence, which had not yet manifested itself anywhere, provided material support. And she unexpectedly found spiritual support in communication with Bishop John, then still the Archbishop of Belgorod and Stary Oskol. Four years before the death of her husband, the bishop baptized her entire family in Kursk. Then he gave moral support during my husband’s funeral. The reason for new meeting began preparing material for the issue for the Nativity of Christ.
– Vladyka John – extraordinary person“, smart, educated, tactful, sensitive to the interlocutor and the reader for whom the interview is intended,” says Maria Gorodova at the meeting. “I was amazed by the depth of thought and the ability to talk about complex things simply. I still needed to grow to such an understanding of things. I followed the bishop like a thread following a needle. There was a great response to the material. We decided to continue the topic, and interviews became regular. And then the editor suggested making a book out of the articles.
These materials, as Maria Gorodova admits, became her salvation. “...Imagine, I could ask about what really interested me - about what sin is and how to come to repentance, what God’s providence is and how to recognize God’s will for oneself... I interviewed, then transcribed everything in detail, wrote, joyfully discovering a new world for yourself, immersing yourself in the space of Holy Scripture... You can sleep in the kitchen on the floor of a rented apartment, but feel absolutely happy if you wrote a wonderful material called “Ship of Salvation” (from the article “Ship of Salvation”).
In 2005, Maria suffered a new ordeal - her eldest son Peter was brutally killed. A woman can still accept the loss of her husband, but not all mothers can come to terms with the loss of a child. But by this time Maria was already a different person: death did not seem to her the last resort human existence. “And here, in the temple, at some point, when I was not so much praying as trying to pray, I suddenly realized with distinct clarity that my love for Petya, just like his for me, had not gone away. That I feel it, and with that primordial strength that we are rarely given the opportunity to experience in ordinary life... And it seems to me that it was from that moment in the temple that life began to return to me” (from the article “Ship of Salvation”).
Maria Gorodova speaks to the reader sincerely, frankly, sometimes even harshly, not sparing herself, exposing her own nerve of the soul, “pulling out a thread from her own destiny.” Maybe that’s why people don’t remain indifferent, respond, write, argue or agree. As the author admits, before each article she prays for the Lord to enlighten her. Metropolitan John commented on her book “The Garden of Desires”: “In modern literature most often there are monologue books, and there are very few works that were born from dialogues between the author and the reader. This genre requires enormous tension and openness on both sides.
This book can be defined as a confession of people who survived trials, but did not lose the main Christian virtues - Faith, Hope and Love (1 Cor. 13:13). I hope that everyone who reads it will be strengthened in these virtues and will find their way to the temple for salvation.”
Maria Gorodova’s book “Ship of Salvation” can be found in the church shop at the Alexander Nevsky Cathedral. New works by the author are available in the Amital chain of stores.
For readers of “Orthodox Oskol” we offer the chapter “If the son is a thief” from the book “The Wind of Tenderness” by M. Gorodova.
Svetlana Vorontsova"If the son is a thief"
Chapter from the book “Tenderness Wind” by Maria Gorodova
Dear readers, I cannot express how glad I am for the mail that came after the materials “The Ship of Salvation” and “Life after Happiness.” There is so much warmth and sincere desire in her to accept other people’s pain. You, dear readers, do not just empathize - you offer help. True feeling is always effective. Thank you. And now a new letter - a letter whose first lines puzzled me: “Maria, you write about your losses, and I envy you...”
"Hello Maria! Reading about your losses and how you wrote the book “Love is patient” with Archbishop John, I experienced different feelings, even envy. Yes, yes, don’t be surprised, I’ll try to explain now. I am 47 years old, and although I feel young, my life is already over. Or rather, it turned into a complete hell.
At the age of 30, realizing that the years were passing and family happiness was not developing, I decided to give birth to a child and raise him myself. I did not involve the child’s father in my plans, because I knew that he would not abandon his family, although he says that he is in love with me. This is how my Borenka was born.
My parents, now the most unfortunate people in the world, were able to understand me and helped me in everything. My Borenka was the most beautiful boy, he learned to read early, and grew up active and smart.
But five years ago I began to stray down a terrible path: I began to steal and behave very cruelly, including with my parents - modest and intelligent people. How many psychologists and workers have I been through? law enforcement! How many tears I shed! I remember how one employee of the children’s police room, unable to bear Bori’s shamelessness, exclaimed: “Why is there such a scumbag in such a family!”
In all the schools that Borya went to, at first they treated him well, but he ruined everything himself. I fought for my son: trying to hide the fact that he was stealing, I transferred him to home schooling, took me to theaters, tried to get me interested in sports. One day, a physical education teacher told him: “You should join the army, but they’ll kill someone like that!”
Having received the certificate, Borya completely got out of control and got involved with thieves who were older than him. He began to come home only when he needed something, and when he came, a nightmare began with his parents, who did not deserve this in their old age. But I'm still glad for him, and my heart breaks when I don't know where he is. Seeing your son dying before your eyes and not knowing how to help him - understand, Maria, this is scary.
In a moment of despair, I turned to Father Bori for the first time - I was already accustomed to humiliation. But he, having listened to me, renounced his son, saying that his children were all right: they were studying in England. Although I don’t blame him - I didn’t inform him when Borenka was born, relying only on myself. I came to God not through books, but through my heart; was baptized. Maria, I know that I am to blame for everything, but I still can’t help but ask myself the question: “Why me? Isn’t it cruel to punish like that?” Over the past six months there have been three courts, the last one made a decision on correctional work. My son is dying before my eyes, and I live and don’t know why...
Natalya V."
Hello, Natalia. Honestly, Natalya, I don’t know the answer to your question: “Why me?” “The ways in which God finds a person are inscrutable,” wrote F.M. Dostoevsky.
It's easy to love if your son is handsome, strong, the pride of the school and an Olympics winner. It is difficult, sometimes excruciatingly difficult, to love if your child is sick. Feel his pain more than your own; seeing the suffering of a loved one, experience this suffering more strongly than your own and, compassionate, love even deeper from this. It's difficult, very difficult.
But to love a daring, unscrupulous creature, related by blood, but with manners alien to you, is a wolf cub; to love, burning with shame for what he has done; to love, each time overcoming the wave of hatred, alienation and protest and still endlessly forgiving; to love, experiencing his sin as your own, is already a feat. The feat of Christian love. Not every heart is capable of this. “Brothers, do not be afraid of the sin of people, love a person even in his sin, for this similarity of Divine love is the height of love on earth.” This is Dostoevsky again, the words of Elder Zosima from The Brothers Karamazov.
The history of Christian holiness knows vivid examples, when those whom the human court had long considered complete villains became saints.
The thief crucified with Christ and the first to enter heaven.
Theophilus, young student Evangelist John the Theologian, who in his youth was left without a mentor and turned onto the disastrous path of robbery and yet, after meeting his teacher, repented.
Moses Murin (Egypt, 4th century), the wild leader of a band of robbers who for a long time kept the entire area in fear, but suddenly repented, became a monk, became famous for the gift of healing and accepted martyrdom.
Our Nikita Stylite (XII century), a daring and ruthless collector of princely taxes, suddenly woke up from a continuous series of atrocities.
History does not always convey to us exactly what external event became the impetus for the awakening of the soul from its muddy sleep. From the Gospel of Luke we know that the thief believed, seeing the suffering of Christ crucified next to him.
And Theophilus was ashamed of one glance from John the Theologian, full of love and forgiveness. By the way, according to St. Theophan the Recluse, it is forgiveness and love that can turn a young, still unstable soul away from the so-called “falls of youth.”
Nikita the Stylite, entering the temple, suddenly, as if for the first time, heard the word of God, then he had a vision: in the cauldron where food for the feast was being cooked, he suddenly saw a stream of blood shed by him. I saw it and shuddered at myself.
Outwardly, all this is absolutely various events, and it is no coincidence that it is not always clear to others what exactly led a person to internal revolution. Only the Lord knows both the disastrous abysses of our hearts and the heights of our spirit. But it is obvious that the awakening of conscience occurs only by the grace of God and out of the highest love for us. The finitude of any human sentence, Natalya, can only be contrasted with the infinity of love.
In Dostoevsky, in the same “The Brothers Karamazov”, Elder Zosima says how important it is for the soul to feel that “there is a human being left on earth who loves him”! This, Natalya, is probably the answer to your question: “I live, but why?..”
And finally, about hell. “What is hell? - asks Elder Zosima in The Brothers Karamazov. And he answers: “I reason like this: suffering is that you can no longer love.” And then he explains.
In an infinite existence, not measured by either time or space, a certain spiritual being was given the opportunity to appear on earth and with this appearance say: “I am, and I love.” That is, this is why we were called into this life, to love. Moreover, to love lively, effectively, sacrificially, giving all of ourselves to love - for this we were given life, and with it - both time and space. And if we are given such an opportunity, and it was given only once, and we neglected this opportunity, rejected this priceless gift - “we did not love, looked mockingly and remained insensitive,” then, having already departed from the earth, having ascended to the Lord, how will we come into contact with His love, who themselves have not known love? We want to love, but we cannot. We will thirst for such love, when you give your life for another, but we will not be able to quench this thirst, “for the life that could have been sacrificed for love has passed away...” It was this suffering from the fact that you can no longer love like that that Dostoevsky called hell.
Fyodor Mikhailovich created the image of Elder Zosima after visiting Optina Hermitage in 1878: this trip summed up the writer’s spiritual quest. By the way, Optina Pustyn, spiritual center Russia, was founded in the 15th century by a certain Opta - until his sudden repentance, the ataman of a gang that traded in robbery in the Kozelsky forests.Maria Gorodova
Dear readers, I cannot express how glad I am for the mail that came after the materials “The Ship of Salvation” and “Life after Happiness.” There is so much warmth and sincere desire in her to accept other people’s pain. You, dear readers, do not just empathize - you offer help.
True feeling is always effective. Thank you. And now a new letter - a letter whose first lines puzzled me: “Maria, you write about your losses, and I envy you...”
"Hello Maria! Reading about your losses and how you wrote the book “Love is patient” with Archbishop John, I experienced different feelings, even envy. Yes, yes, don’t be surprised, I’ll try to explain now. I’m 47 years old, and although I feel young, my life is already over. Or rather, it has turned into a complete hell.
At the age of 30, realizing that the years were passing and family happiness was not developing, I decided to give birth to a child and raise him myself. I did not involve the child’s father in my plans, because I knew that he would not abandon his family, although he says that he is in love with me. This is how my Borenka was born.
My parents, now the most unfortunate people in the world, were able to understand me and helped me in everything. My Borenka was the most beautiful boy, he learned to read early, and grew up active and smart.
But five years ago I began to stray down a terrible path: I began to steal and behave very cruelly, including with my parents - modest and intelligent people. How many psychologists and law enforcement officers have I passed through? How many tears I shed! I remember how one employee of the children’s police room, unable to bear Bori’s shamelessness, exclaimed: “Why is there such a scumbag in such a family!”
In all the schools that Borya went to, at first they treated him well, but he ruined everything himself. I fought for my son: trying to hide the fact that he was stealing, I transferred him to home schooling, took him to theaters, tried to get him interested in sports. One day, a physical education teacher told him: “You should join the army, but they’ll kill someone like that!”
Having received the certificate, Borya completely got out of control and got involved with thieves who were older than him. He began to come home only when he needed something, and when he came, a nightmare began with his parents, who did not deserve this in their old age. But I'm still glad for him, and my heart breaks when I don't know where he is. Seeing your son dying before your eyes and not knowing how to help him - understand, Maria, this is scary.
In a moment of despair, I turned to Father Bori for the first time - I was already accustomed to humiliation. But he, having listened to me, renounced his son, saying that his children were all right: they were studying in England. Although I don’t blame him - I didn’t inform him when Borenka was born, relying only on myself. I came to God not through books, but through my heart; was baptized. Maria, I know that I myself am to blame for everything, but I still can’t help but ask myself the question: “Why me? Isn’t it cruel to punish like that?” Over the past six months there have been three trials, the last one made a decision on correctional labor. My son is dying before my eyes, but I live and don’t know why...
Natalia V.»
Hello, Natalia. Honestly, Natalya, I don’t know the answer to your question: “Why me?” “The ways in which God finds a person are inscrutable,” wrote F.M. Dostoevsky.
It's easy to love if your son is handsome, strong, the pride of the school and an Olympics winner. It is difficult, sometimes excruciatingly difficult, to love if your child is sick. Feel his pain more than your own; seeing the suffering of a loved one, experience this suffering more strongly than your own and, compassionate, love even deeper from this. It's difficult, very difficult.
But to love a daring, unscrupulous creature, related by blood, but with manners alien to you, is a wolf cub; to love, burning with shame for what he has done; to love, each time overcoming the wave of hatred, alienation and protest and still endlessly forgiving; to love, experiencing his sin as your own, is already a feat. The feat of Christian love. Not every heart is capable of this. “Brothers, do not be afraid of the sin of people, love a person even in his sin, for this similarity of Divine love is the height of love on earth.” This is Dostoevsky again, the words of Elder Zosima from The Brothers Karamazov.
The history of Christian holiness knows vivid examples when those whom human courts had long considered complete villains became saints.
The thief crucified with Christ and the first to enter heaven.
Theophilus, a young disciple of the Evangelist John the Theologian, who in his youth was left without a mentor and turned onto the disastrous path of robbery and yet, after meeting with his teacher, repented.
Moses Murin (Egypt, 4th century), the wild leader of a band of robbers who for a long time kept the entire area in fear, but suddenly repented, became a monk, became famous for the gift of healing and accepted martyrdom.
Our Nikita Stylite (XII century), a daring and ruthless collector of princely taxes, suddenly woke up from a continuous series of atrocities.
History does not always convey to us exactly what external event became the impetus for the awakening of the soul from its dark sleep. From the Gospel of Luke we know that the thief believed, seeing the suffering of Christ crucified next to him.
And Theophilus was ashamed of one look from John the Theologian, full of love and forgiveness. By the way, according to St. Theophan the Recluse, it is forgiveness and love that can turn a young, not yet stable soul away from the so-called “falls of youth.”
Nikita the Stylite, entering the temple, suddenly, as if for the first time, heard the word of God, then he had a vision: in the cauldron where food for the feast was being cooked, he suddenly saw a stream of blood shed by him. I saw it and shuddered at myself.
Outwardly, these are all completely different events, and it is no coincidence that it is not always clear to others what exactly led a person to an internal revolution. Only the Lord knows both the disastrous abysses of our hearts and the heights of our spirit. But it is obvious that the awakening of conscience occurs only by the grace of God and out of the highest love for us. The finitude of any human sentence, Natalya, can only be contrasted with the infinity of love.
In Dostoevsky, in the same “The Brothers Karamazov”, Elder Zosima says how important it is for the soul to feel that “there is a human being left on earth who loves him”! This, Natalya, is probably the answer to your question: “I live, but why?..”
And finally, about hell. “What is hell? - asks Elder Zosima in The Brothers Karamazov. And he answers: “I reason like this: suffering is that you can no longer love.” And then he explains.
In an infinite existence, not measured by either time or space, a certain spiritual being was given the opportunity to appear on earth and with this appearance say: “I am, and I love.” That is, this is why we were called into this life, to love. Moreover, to love lively, effectively, sacrificially, giving all of ourselves to love - for this we were given life, and with it - both time and space.
And if we are given such an opportunity, and it was given only once, and we neglected this opportunity, rejected this priceless gift - “we did not love, looked mockingly and remained insensitive,” then, having already departed from the earth, having ascended to the Lord, how will we come into contact with His love, who themselves have not known love? We want to love, but we cannot. We will thirst for such love, when you give your life for another, but we will not be able to quench this thirst, “for the life that could have been sacrificed for love has passed away...” It was this suffering from the fact that you can no longer love like that that Dostoevsky called hell.
Fyodor Mikhailovich created the image of Elder Zosima after visiting Optina Hermitage in 1878: this trip summed up the writer’s spiritual quest. By the way, Optina Pustyn, the spiritual center of Russia, was founded in the 15th century by a certain Opta - before his sudden repentance, the ataman of a gang that traded in robbery in the Kozelsky forests.
Prayer to the Mother of God for the conversion of the lost
(St. Gabriel of Novgorod)
Oh, All-Merciful Lady, Virgin, Lady Theotokos, Queen of Heaven! By Your Nativity You saved the human race from the eternal torment of the devil: for from You Christ was born, our Savior. Look with Your mercy on this (name), deprived of God’s mercy and grace, intercede with Your Mother’s boldness and Your prayers from Your Son, Christ our God, so that He may send down His grace from above on this perishing one. O Most Blessed One! You are the hope of the unreliable, You are the salvation of the desperate, may the enemy not rejoice over his soul.
Maria Gorodova
