Saint Seraphim walks around the world these days

Saint Seraphim walks around the world these days: France, Alaska, Canada, Boston, Germany, San Francisco, Monterey, New York

From the conversations of Father Herman of Platina


Saint Seraphim calls on the youth

Saint Seraphim by his teaching gives hope for victory to us - a small flock, on the possibility of reaching the Kingdom of Heaven.  His word and his entire spiritual image were saturated with a real longing for the Resurrection of Christ in the souls of faithful Christians in the last days, which we are experiencing.  The preparation for the perception of this transformed state, based on the Resurrection of Christ, was the Hermitage of the Russian North, where for almost a millennium the God-bearing fathers and mothers walked one after another across Holy Rus as an indestructible golden chain. Beginning with Saints Olga and Vladimir, ending with the blessed power of the new martyrs and ending with modern advocates for the Truth of Christ.  They came from the common people, who in their hearts feel the inner energy of Holy Russia.  With this energy, the Monk Seraphim almost imperceptibly, but definitely manifests and ignites the awakening young generation, which, alas, does not realize what is happening in their hearts.

Therefore, the power of hell is arming itself, attacking the naive, irresponsible youths of great Russia, taking advantage of the incitement of passions through music and visual licentiousness on a multimillion scale.  Although they use satanic gestures of fingertip and cause the forces of hell to explode "hellish machines" that rush to atrocities and even murder, however, thanks to the presence of the sign of the cross, the image of St. George the Victorious and the two-headed eagle, the evil spirits are still held back.  (This refers to the recent case of terrorism at a Moscow rock concert, where 40 thousand young citizens, in whom Holy Russian blood flows, participated, showing a spectacle of pagan enthusiasm. Their parents do not suspect the mystical danger for the entire nation.)

A hundred years ago, all of Russia with tremendous spiritual enthusiasm greeted the nationwide glorification of the Monk Seraphim.  By prayer addressed to God, the Russian nation consciously confessed Him from the time of receiving the Holy Orthodox Faith from Saint Prince Vladimir a thousand years ago and carefully preserved by subsequent generations of Holy Russia. One of the many was the Monk Seraphim, who lamented for Russia, foreseen by him in her coming calamity, and guarded Russia for a century, despite the fact that the Russian people rebelled against God and His Property.  He rebelled against God with all his creative powers, destroyed the temples that belonged to God, and openly encouraged the violation of the foundations of any civilization - the Commandments of God. All the foundations of Russian society were compelled to serve this demonic obsession in order to raise the “branded curse” to rule over the “slaves” who had betrayed Christ.  But the Russian people, through the prayers of the Monk Seraphim and others like him, although outwardly they were brought to their knees, did not bow their necks: they protected themselves with the Cross of Christ and did not cause a curse with the Satanist finger-laying on themselves and remained spiritually free!  - to this day!

And now the Monk Seraphim is calling the people of all Russia to that singing of the Passover of Christ, which he foresaw and in the same way warned and prepared the believers for persecution.  May modern youths come to their senses and throw off the shackles of spiritual ignorance and the shroud of the blinding whistle dance of an almost worldwide movement. It ignores the coming of Christ to earth, which created the greatness of the Christian civilization, the only one capable of reconciling all warring nations with Christ's Love and igniting the flame of mystical communion with God, which the whole world expects from the Russian people, who brought the 60 millionth sacrifice of the new martyrs to the enlightenment of the whole world.

Saint Seraphim calls on this to the youth of today.

Holy Father Seraphim, pray to God for us!
Lord bless.


The Ecumenical Lamp, the Monk Seraphim, walks around the world

Because of the hard times of the "Russian" coup d'etat of social communism, the news of the Monk Seraphim spread throughout the world.  There are almost no countries where there would be no Russians, the unfortunate victims of militant atheism.  No matter how hard the enemy of the human race tried to destroy the belief in the victory of Good, turning Christian civilization into ruins, he could not !!  Remained as a result of fear, that is, belief in the triumph of evil. The Monk Seraphim conquered this fear worldwide.  He calls upon all people of good will to this victory of Good and Love.  The following testimonies about the non-worldly manifestations of the faith of the Monk Seraphim over fear among modern Orthodox Christians were collected to reinforce faith in Good, Hope and Love.  For the inspired faith in Good is the basis of both the hope and love of the Universal Orthodoxy of the Monk Seraphim.

In the past century, the Monk Seraphim was an assistant to the suffering and a teacher of Orthodoxy in many countries of the universe.  If you make a list of parishes, monasteries and chapels created in his name, you get an impressive list.  Of course, the spread of information about him was associated with Russian emigrants who fled for the sake of truth to the free world.  There they called him, and he helped them in life's difficulties and also showed himself to the heterodox world.  Here are a few true cases that we have heard personally from those who received the help of the Monk Seraphim and were told to the glory of God.


1. France.  Gardener

In the 1930s, a Russian gardener, a believing emigrant, who was very dear to the owners, worked in a rich house.

The hostess of the house was a deeply religious Catholic, she had in the house a statue of “Saint” Francis of Assisi, whom she venerated and constantly prayed to him.  Once, after fervently praying to him, she has a dream.  Her statue comes to life, and Francis comes up to her and says that he is grateful to her prayers, but, pointing to the figure of an unknown old man standing behind him, says that from now on she should pray to him and resort to him for help, since he is taller than Francis. Confused, she woke up and wondered who this unknown saint would be, standing so humbly behind Francis.  For a long time she tried to unravel this dream, when one day she accidentally entered the room of a Russian gardener and saw in the corner between the icons a small image of the Monk Seraphim, in which she immediately recognized the righteous one whom her beloved "saint" was pointing to. Thanks to the gardener's stories about the Monk Seraphim, she became interested in Orthodoxy, later she met Bishop Benjamin (Fedchenkov), he explained to her the basics of Orthodoxy, to which she became attached with all her soul and as if she even became Orthodox, as Elena Yurievna Kontsevich, who personally heard from Bishop Benjamin  in this case and passing it on to us.  Thus, a sincere love for holiness, albeit non-Orthodox understood, has taken another soul away from the errors of Catholicism into the bosom of the Orthodox Church.


2. Alaska.  Father Gerasim

The young missionary Father Gerasim (Schmalts) arrived in Alaska shortly after the glorification of the Monk Seraphim, still little known in the distant forgotten Alaska, and was appointed shepherd in the village of Afognak near Spruce Island, where a contemporary of the Monk Seraphim the humble monk Herman, who rested there on November 15, 1836. Fr Gerasim, while still in the St. Tikhon's Hermitage of the Kaluga province, greatly venerated the Monk Seraphim and was worried that his beloved Saint Seraphim was little worshiped.  The Monk Seraphim seemed too new to the provincial Aleuts, who sincerely believe in God in their simplicity.

Once they resort to Father Gerasim for help: a relatively young Aleut fisherman, surrounded by his wife, who seemed to be a widow, and many small children, almost orphans, was dying from some kind of stomach illness in unbearable pain.  There were no doctors on the island, there was no one to provide substantial medical care, and the deeply religious sufferer, looking death in the eyes, could no longer ask for help from Father Gerasim, who stood by and was silent.

Then Father Gerasim burst out of his heart a prayer to the newly-minted heavenly helper and, bending down closer to the sick man, with faith told the dying man to turn with prayer to the Monk Seraphim.  He, grasping at a straw given by Father Gerasim, from all his suffering soul with sincere faith prayed to the saint of God together with Father Gerasim, under the cries of children's voices - and was heard by the Monk Seraphim at a distance of half the universe. The faith of the young Aleut almost instantly raised him from his deathbed, the pain disappeared, and soon he got out of bed.  The tears of children turned into tears of joy, and the news of the miracle of Saint Seraphim spread throughout all the islands of Alaska.


3. Canada.  "City of Kitezh"

To the north of the center of Alberta, where the endless prairies begin, there is a lake called White Fish.  In the 1930s, a native of the Novgorod swampy land, a native of Tikhvin, a heroic physique, monk Ioasaph settled there, summoned to be the shepherd of Russian and Bukovinian emigrants who were subjected to the onslaught of local sectarians and Indian shamans. Having become the bishop of Edmonton and having already built two sketes in the south and west of Edmonton, he decided to turn to Saint Seraphim for help and create a hermitage in his honor in order to consecrate the entire northeastern territory with the light of Orthodoxy, so that the light of Christ enlightens the tribes of the Indians sitting there in the darkness and protects the Orthodox from neo-pagan and heterodox influence. He prayed a lot to the Monk Seraphim, as did all the monastics with him.  How exactly the Monk Seraphim appeared to him then is hidden from us. (Here are the words of Vladyka himself, as the Monk Seraphim visited their family: “The 12-year-old youth Natalia was ill for two years. 6 hours before her death, the Monk Seraphim of Sarov and the Mother of God appeared to her (in reality) and said to her: "We will come for you at 4 o'clock."  A priest was called for her, she received Holy Communion, got out of bed (she did not get up for two years) and completely recovered: she went and ate. At about 4 o'clock she lay down again and said to her parents (my brother): "Bless me and goodbye."  At exactly 4 o'clock she said: “The Mother of God and the Saint Seraphim have come for me.  Farewell".  She crossed herself, folded her hands and died. She was distinguished by meekness and extraordinary patience, during a serious illness she never gave a groan or complained.) The first in Canada book of the Monk Seraphim "On the Purpose of the Christian Life" was published by him and soon translated into Spanish.  He was a poet, artist, and excellent administrator, but did not have much external success.  Like the Saint Seraphim, he was a contemplator of the future of believing Christians, the publisher of a brochure about the invisible city of Kitezh - the other world, open to the righteous even here on earth.

Vladyka Joasaph had an assistant, the humble hieromonk Elijah, a great worker who shared his love for the Saint Seraphim with him and even ended his life in the Novo-Diveevo monastery, dedicated to the Monk Seraphim, in New York, he built there the Seraphim temple, where  still life portrait of the great hermit of the Sarov forests.  In his youth, Father Elijah constantly stayed in a wretched Seraphim monastery under construction on the high shore of Lake Belaya Ryba.

A huge feat was given the construction of this skete to two temporary inhabitants, who worked for four.  As Vladyka Joasaph later joked: "There were four of us: I and Fr. Elijah, Fr. Elijah and I."  There was also a novice, brother Platon Kustov, he lived in the cave of the Seraphim Hermitage, while they were building up, then he died ... The winters were cold, the poor were complete and desolate loneliness.  Later, Father Leonid (Ges), a monk of the Kiev Ionin Monastery, came.  For a long time, Vladyka Joasaph could not enjoy the Canadian City of Kitezh because of his archpastoral concerns.  The hard life did not attract the ascetics of his day.  All physical and spiritual forces were spent on caring for existence, and the City of Kitezh began to sink into oblivion.  And when its founder was transferred to Argentina, the hermitage entirely, like the legendary City of Kitezh, seemed to sink into oblivion at the bottom of the lake. And it remained in the memory of lovers of Orthodoxy as a truly magnificent image of the drowned dream of hermitage-lovers - the City of Kitezh invisible to the uninitiated.  This image for the modern young American monasticism is an attraction to that world of the fragrant hermitage, which gave birth to and raised the great Reverend Seraphim of Sarov.  Rare pilgrims go there.  Although nothing remained there after the fire, local Indians remember Russian monks with nostalgia.


4. Boston.  Penance

Even before the revolution, Russians came to America to work: they will live, work and return.  Such was the pious Nikolay Panteleev, who later became a deacon.  His soul was of a monastic disposition, he corresponded with monks on Athos.  He sent them a large share of his earnings, and for this he was sent from there spiritual books: Philokalia, Prologue and others.  Shortly before the end of his term in Boston, a revolution broke out in his homeland, the iron curtain fell, and Russia ended up in prison.  The correspondence has ceased.  Relatives and friends in Russia became, as it were, buried, and he was left alone in a country alien to his spiritual disposition.  He lost heart.

Church life without Russia is a rather boring phenomenon if it turns out to be closed in its narrowly Russian existence, without the desire to establish contacts with incomprehensible Americans, alien to the concept of Orthodox national life, with their pressure on material well-being and bodily comfort, with a life arrangement alien to Russian  to a person a way in which spiritual values are placed on the level of hobbies, curiosities and non-life reality.

He fell in spirit, and fell physically.  Sin took possession of his soul.  When he came to, he was horrified and hastened to the temple to confess his sin.  Arriving at the church, he found the priest, confessed, but either the priest turned out to be inexperienced, or in an irritated spirit at the hour when he heard the confession of a grave sin, he flared up with indignation and, as a confessor, gave a penance of several thousand bows to the ground every day.  And he said that this must be done until he himself cancels and no one else can remove the penance from him.  So that he would go and repent with tears, and that otherwise eternal damnation hangs over him.  In horror, he jumped out of the temple, ran home to a boring wretched room and rushed to bow down with tears.

After a certain amount of time, he came to the temple for the permission of the performed penance.  Imagine his surprise and shock when he saw in the middle of the temple his judge-priest lying in a coffin. He died and took with him to the next world the permission of his penance: no one, not even the bishop, or even the patriarch, is able to remove the spiritual penance, according to Bishop Benjamin (Fedchenkov).  (He spoke about this to the Kontsevichs, from whom we learned about it too. The very story of his life was told to us by Father Nikolay).

He looked into the grave at the face of his deceased judge and realized, being well-read in spiritual books, that this penance could only be permitted in the next world.  He knew that from now on he was a prisoner for life, that he could not lead a normal secular lifestyle, that he had to change his whole lifestyle and come to terms with his fate.


Arriving home, he covered the windows with black cloth, lit a lamp and began to bow down.  During the day he worked in a factory, and at night he bowed.  Soon, his neighbors began to complain that the thumping of his bows to the ground and the sobbing of his sobs were interfering with their sleep.  He changed his job to a night shift and reduced his food intake.  He fasted often already, having, through his Jewish compatriot, a local shopkeeper, fairly black Russian bread and herring at a cheap price.  He stopped eating other food, lost a lot of weight, and his eyes were always red from crying. He has changed externally and internally.  He ceased to be like himself.  Since he worked at night and bowed in a dark room during the day, he became a stranger to daylight.  He was thin, pale and barely able to stand, but did not give up. Over time, the content of the spiritual books, which he continued to receive from Athos, acquired a different, deeper meaning.  And he longed for a free minute from bows, in order to be saturated with that innermost reality, which was beginning to acquire new meaning in his already well-known ascetic writings.  His sadness began to take on a different effect.  The saints became his friends, and although he did not go to church, in his apartment he read the Book of Hours to supplement the church services.

Here, naturally, the Monk Seraphim became close to him.  He continued to send his earnings to Athos to his friends, who, after the closure of the exit from Russia and the persecution of the monks, were in dire need of material assistance.  Russian Athos was dying out.  Once he was sent a pack of paper icons with a request to sell to Russian believers to help starving aged monks in the dying out St. Andrew's skete and in other hermitage cells.  Among these icons, there were undoubtedly the icons of the Monk Seraphim.  Remembering a good professor at Harvard University, he went to see him on the outskirts of Boston.

It was a lovely day.  The path ran through the whole city.  On the way, already approaching, he realized that he had forgotten the sheet with the address of the professor's house.  He was very grieved, especially since the trip was very long.  He burst into tears, lamenting his wretchedness and the hopelessness of the situation.

Coming out of the underground train, in the noisy crowd that surrounded him, he was very worried about the meaninglessness of his trip, and when he climbed out, four meters in front of him, in a hurrying crowd, he stood, as he is depicted on icons, in robes and  kamilavki, the Monk Seraphim himself!  He looked affably at the taken aback Father Nikolay, beckoning to him with his hand and moving away from him at the same distance. Automatically Father Nikolai followed him, despite the crowd rushing around him.  So he crossed the street, Masachusetts Avenue, on the other side of the university.  The Monk Seraphim walked in the crowd, looking back at Father Nikolay and beckoning him to follow him.  A black robe hid his legs.  Father Nikolay noticed that he seemed to be swimming, and not making steps.  At first he thought that he was a ghost, but everything was completely real, and those passing by made way for him. In this way they passed several blocks, and at the third crossroads the Monk Seraphim stopped and pointed with the finger of his right hand to cross to the other side of the street.  Concentrating when crossing the street, he lost sight of the Monk Seraphim.  But he kept going forward, thinking that he would catch up with him.  But that was gone.  He lunged forward, looking for his guide with his eyes, but he was nowhere to be found.  Then he felt himself abandoned. Tears appeared in his eyes, and the old dull feeling of loneliness in a foreign land again ached in his heart.  Then he remembered the sad thought that he didn’t know where he lived without the address of the Russian professor.  What was he to do? He has never been here.  To let the passers-by hurrying by, he approached the wall of the house and his eyes automatically stopped on the sign of the residents of this entrance.  At that moment, he was struck by the sign with the name of the professor to whom he was going.  Then it became clear to him that the Monk Seraphim had brought him to the professor.  So close became the Reverend to the repentant soul of Father Nikolay!

He happily called, and the professor accepted him, bought the offered icons, supplied him with refreshments, and he returned home joyfully.  Then he sent money to the monks and continued on his mournful path of repentance.

We met him when he was already old.  I borrowed spiritual books from him to read.  He told me himself, and I had no doubt that he was telling the truth.  He continued his feat, and in his free time he bound books.  He also intertwined my first prayer book for me.  Once he was ordained a deacon, but since he was deaf, they rejected him and did not even bless him to read the hours and the Apostle, for the same reason.

It was interesting for us to know more about the Monk Seraphim, especially since on another time Father Nikolay saw the Monk Seraphim again on the streets of Boston: on Tremont Street near Boylston Street, in the old town not far from the cinema.  Then the Monk Seraphim was in no hurry, and he even spoke to him.  We were interested in what the Monk Seraphim was like.  Father Nikolay saw him tall, slender, radiant with joy, very quick in movement, and he had a high voice. The monk said something to him, but Father Nikolay concealed the contents from us.  I did not insist, as there was some kind of warning.  But the joy to contemplate the Monk Seraphim was inspiring, inspiring tenderness.  And when Father Nikolai told us about this, his eyes were watered with tears, involuntarily pouring from his old eyes. The last years of his life were spent in the hospital, where he ended up due to his old age.  There he, cutting off a toenail, injured himself, gangrene began, from which he died.  Long before his death, he bought himself a grave in a Russian cemetery in the neighboring state of Connecticut.  There he lies to this day, forgotten by everyone, since there is no one to remember him.


5. Germany.  Non-returner

During the Second World War, together with the refugees, a vibrant and trembling wave of the holy Orthodox faith filled Germany and at the same time brought the news of the Monk Seraphim.  It was transmitted from one living soul to others and could not but touch the local German population, which also suffered from the consequences of the horrors of the war.  Here is the confession of a man from the Seraphim region, who brought the newly acquired faith in the Monk and, naturally, spread it, thanks to the fact that he remained at large.  So she reached S. Rozhdestvensky, who wrote down the following.  (See New Russian Word. New York. 1970, 1st August, p. 5.)

“I was born and raised in the city of Arzamas, near the former Sarov hermitage.  If I am not mistaken, then in 1929 this monastery with the richest and most extensive forest (as they said, for construction) was turned by the Soviet government into a forced labor camp.  Not only the monks 'cells and monastery buildings, but also the monastery churches (summer and winter) were turned into prisoners' barracks.  In the churches, bunks were built in several tiers, and they themselves are surrounded by wire.  But all around the monastery were rows of barbed wire and watchtowers.  What happened to the relics of the Monk Seraphim - I do not know.  I heard from my mother that they were taken somewhere, as they said, to one of the country's anti-religious museums.

During these years of the existence of the forced labor camp, narrow-gauge tracks were laid across the hermitage for the removal of timber.  The timber is valuable; it was mainly exported abroad.  Throughout the area, we often met parties of prisoners, of course, with guards, and sometimes with guard dogs.  In general, it was not recommended for us, free citizens, to approach this concentration camp and take an interest in it.  In the end, we got used to it.  And when trains with prisoners were unloading at our stations, we, the youth, only shrugged our shoulders.  We thought that they were the enemies of the people, so it was right for them.

I can add that already before my eyes the richest forest, in which bears were found, was greatly thinned and its former greatness could only be judged by the stories of my mother and friends.

Once, with a detachment of pioneers, I accidentally wandered into the mass graves of prisoners, located near the monastery itself. At that time I was already unpleasantly amazed at the size of the cemetery. We, the pioneers, felt somehow creepy, and we quickly left.  Later, on long winter evenings, I sometimes listened to the quiet conversation of my mother, who was chatting with some old women. They usually talked about hundreds and thousands of prisoners tortured to death by hunger and work. They sighed, groaned and crossed themselves, and the mother always cried from such conversations. I knew that she was very religious and somewhere she hid old icons, went to the churches that remained in Arzamas.  She did not interfere with me to live in my own way: from the pioneers I went to the Komsomol, and then left to study and worked in production, and therefore did not interfere in her personal affairs. But I didn’t laugh at her faith.

During the Second World War, I was sent from the army to a military school.  Before leaving for the front, I managed to be at home.  It was in the summer of 1943.  Mom once begged me to accompany her to church.  That year, it seems, two or three churches were opened in our city, and every ban on religion was lifted.  Some kind of solemn service was going on in the church.  Mother even noticed to me that they would pray there for the granting of victory over the enemy and that now, in connection with the war, many military men can be found in the churches.

I went with my mother, wanting to give her this little joy.  Near the church, I did notice many beggars, as well as the military, still timidly entering the temple.  I also decided to look and went there with my mother.  We barely squeezed into the church - there were so many people.  In the middle of the church, I noticed many candles in front of a large icon of Seraphim of Sarov and even flowers around the analogion with the icon.  The service was going on.  But I did not stay in the church for long - everything was unusual for me and, frankly speaking, I was afraid, as it were, what good, one of my comrades, former Komsomol members, did not notice me.

At night I went to the front.  Before leaving, my mother, of course, cried, and then somehow unexpectedly said to me:
 - I believe you will live.  I will pray and he will keep you.
 -Who is he?  I asked.
 -“Our Seraphim of Sarov,” replied the mother.

Not wanting to offend my mother, I didn’t tell her then, but in my heart I just laughed at her prediction.

Yes, I must add that on this visit, icons were openly hung in my mother's room in the corner, and one of them was Seraphim of Sarov.  Mom explained to me that now many have icons.  She also talked about the fact that in churches almost all newborns are baptized, and boys are given the name Seraphim.  “In honor of our saint,” she added.

Endless campaigns and battles began at the front.  I was slightly injured twice, received awards and production.  Our regiment was named a Guards regiment for military merits.  We all lived then with the dream of an early expulsion and defeat of the enemy.

In the summer of 1944, during decisive battles on the border with Poland, I was seriously wounded and lay unconscious for several days.  As I learned later, the doctors did not hope to save me.  And now, believe it or not, at the moment when my body was struggling with death, I dreamed that I was a pioneer again and we walked through the forest near the Sarov Monastery.  Where once we, the pioneers, stumbled upon the prisoners' cemetery.  For some reason I lagged behind the guys.  Fear gripped me.  And suddenly an old man came out of the forest.  He quickly came up to me, looked straight into my eyes, put his hand on my head and said: “And you will live.  Your mother begged ... ”And before I had time to recover or get scared, he disappeared.

I woke up: a hospital ward, not a forest.  A doctor and a nurse stood by my bed and said something.  I only remember the remark: "The crisis is over!"  I tried hard to remember where I had met the old man.  Finally I remembered: in the church of Arzamas on the icon.  Then I fell asleep sweetly.

I stayed in this hospital for several more weeks and again ended up at the front.  I stormed the Oder, Berlin, went to the German tanks, I earned two more orders.  You can say I was in the very heat, but I was sure that I would stay alive.  Why, in fact, I was so sure - then I could not explain to myself ...

The war is over.  Our regiment remained under occupation in Germany.  At the end of 1947, I returned to my homeland.  But he did not find his mother, she died.  I visited her grave in the city cemetery.  On the way from the cemetery, for some reason I decided to look at the church where I went with my mother before leaving for the front.

It was getting dark.  There were few people in the semi-illuminated temple.  I saw that icon of Seraphim of Sarov again.  I looked, and something trembled in my heart.  I remembered the old mother.  As I left the church, I noticed the citizens hurrying through the streets.  And he noticed to himself: in the victorious country they are all dressed poorer than the Germans.  And most importantly, everyone's faces are worried, sad, sorrowful ...

The legless invalids of the Patriotic War stood outside the church, openly begging for alms.  Another new click and new discovery.  Looking around, I discreetly gave them everything I had in my pocket.  On the way to my acquaintances, I noticed the same disabled people.  From friends I learned that religion is again not held in high esteem and is oppressed.  Both icons and churches became dangerous again.

That evening I got drunk with my buddies.  Many of them were responsible workers, one of them, like me, is a hero of the Patriotic War.  They recalled the Komsomol, campaigns, the war.  It is strange that not a word was said about the future.  I listened to their speeches, but did not understand them, and drank and drank.  About myself, about my experiences, I did not say a word to them.  In the morning, ahead of schedule, I left my native Arzamas with a firm intention not to return there anymore.

At the station, I happened to meet a party of prisoners.  Under escort, they were driven to the Sarov hermitage.  And suddenly I caught myself on a treacherous thought: "Here are the bastards, they used to unload the prisoners at night, but now, without any hesitation, in the morning."
Well, then, step by step, I began to open up everything in a new way.  I began to see more often at night the old man Seraphim of Sarov.  Now I realized that I am not like all of us ... Well, you see, I also opened myself up, so much so that I fled from there abroad.  And I have no regrets. "
S. Rozhdestvensky


6. San Francisco.  Soldier

With the blessing of the blessed memory of Archbishop John (Maksimovich), a movement began in San Francisco to open Orthodox bookstores with coffee shops, church music, lectures, talks, exhibitions, and even chapels and daily services.  The same small missionary communities in England, Holland, Australia and even in Serbia and Poland.  Today there are more than four dozen of them. There, the main place of honor is usually occupied by the Monk Seraphim with his teaching "On the Purpose of Christian Life", as well as the holy righteous John of Kronstadt with his diary "My Life in Christ", Nikolai Gogol and his "Reflections on the Divine Liturgy", which became a lever that rakes in  Orthodox neophytes in the liturgical cycle of services.  In such bookstores, a fresh, sometimes completely random person plunges through icons, literature, music and Athonite incense into another world, inspired by Byzantine pathos, into an atmosphere that is not of this world.

Over the past 40 years, the Brotherhood of the Monk Herman of Alaska has seen many cases when young people of different religious orientations or outside of religion joined the ranks of the conscientious warriors of Christ, defending genuine Orthodoxy from the alien renewal spirit, “keeping pace with this world” (according to St. Athanasius the Great  ) Orthodoxy.  These are not fanatics suffering from intolerance, but respectable people to whom the Truth of genuine Orthodoxy was mystically revealed.

One fine day, a young soldier timidly entered such a bookstore in the city of San Francisco, being on vacation, out of shape.  Sheer curiosity made him look into the window as he stood at the bus stop.  The door was wide open, and the aroma of Athonite incense was heard in the street, accompanied by church choral singing.  Entering, he was struck by the touching faces on the icons of ancient writing.  They sunk into his soul, as he later said, and left in her an indelible sense of the intelligibility of an unattainable world.  The faces attracted him with their "strangeness", uncommonness, as it were called to follow them.

Behind the counter stood a young man, the future monk Seraphim (Rose), with his friendliness and easy look, he gave a reason to enter into a conversation.  A casual, short conversation could not teach the young soldier Eugene Butler much.  He was briefly laid off and in a hurry to return.  He only found out that a cathedral was being built next to the store, and was advised to go there and get acquainted with the church atmosphere.

Subsequently, he visited us several times and told us that he was an orphan and was studying at the University of Florida in Tampa, not far from St. Petersburg, that he would soon go to Vietnam.  We liked him, and we asked him to pray for us and our missionary work, for he was a believer, a Protestant of some denomination.  We could not even present him with any substantial literature, except for the Gogol Liturgy.  And so he left, leaving behind a good memory.  After that we learned the following about him.

Under the strong impression of what he saw in a small store, where something touched his soul, he left, turned left and entered an empty cathedral under construction.  There was no one there, a mysterious silence reigned, and he recognized the already familiar smell of church incense.  His attention was immediately attracted by large icons on the iconostasis of Old Russian Old Believer writing, the work of Pimen Maksimovich Sofronov.  In the eyes of the Savior, seriousness, the Mother of God - touching compassion.  And he did not look up, involuntarily coming closer and climbing the solea close to them.  They attracted his soul with their uniqueness, invited him to the spiritual world.

To the left of the Mother of God was a large icon of the Monk Seraphim.  It is written as a realistic picture of a deep green forest, very real in its dampness and chill after the rain.  In the center, an elder is kneeling on a stone with his hands raised upward, his gaze is fixed on the icon hanging in front of him on a tree.  Coming closer, he saw something unusual, but took it for the usual in a church setting.  What was it?

The bent old man on his knees turned his head in his direction and with a friendly look said something to the orphan-warrior, to his heart.  Eugene did not understand the words and wanted to ask again, but then the face of the Monk, overshadowing him with unearthly joy, again turned into a two-dimensional icon.  Struck by this circumstance, having received something from the Monk Seraphim, he soon left.

He wrote that he converted to Orthodoxy at the university.  He bought some of our books.  He wrote to us several times, from which we saw how deeply he went into what the Monk Seraphim called him to.  Then he went to the war in Vietnam.  For a long time we did not hear anything about him.  Then there were rumors that he allegedly died there.

We thought, remembering him, that it was not without reason that he entered our store, so that it is evident that the Monk Seraphim would call him into that world to pray for his Motherland.

The once remarkable Russian writer Sergei Alexandrovich Nilus wrote in his diary, exclaiming: "Seraphim is everywhere!"  We testify that the Monk Seraphim calls everywhere pure souls into the Kingdom of Heaven, if only a working hand would be extended from the side of mere mortals as an excuse to unite the earthly with the heavenly.


7. Monterey.  Self-elected

“Monterey (California) did not have its own Orthodox Church, but there were enough Russian people to create their own church, and little by little funds would be found, and everything would be well arranged.  But no, I hardly managed to talk about the construction of the temple.  Finally, they were divided into two groups: those who want to build a temple and those who oppose it.  There were also those who openly rebelled against me for this.  A smaller group still supported me and we started building.

Almost everything was done on our own.  I came every day and worked most of the day.  Already a small house was transformed into a temple, but there was no iconostasis yet.  As the work was drawing to a close, it was time to decide in honor of which holiday or memory of which saint to consecrate the throne.  It was necessary to decide this at the general parish meeting, for to this day, as we have everywhere in church affairs, nothing passes without disputes and contentions. There were disagreements, and this very important issue was not resolved.  Some wanted in honor of St. Nicholas, others presented something else, and in the end they came to more or less agreement - to name the temple of the Resurrection.  The next day, at the meeting, this decision had to be finally confirmed and then I had to go to San Francisco to Vladyka Tikhon to ask for a blessing and tell the Synod about the opening of a new Resurrection parish.

At night I have a dream.  I see that I come to the church as usual to work, to build the iconostasis, but the lights are already on in the church.  This struck me as suspicious, for I alone had the keys to the church.  I enter the church and see that everything is somehow dim, in darkness, but the iconostasis has already been built.  In the altar, although everything is also in darkness, someone is there and even serves.  I stopped in disbelief, watching what would happen next. Before the throne is a rather tall monk in a black monastic robe, his back to me, and continues to serve.  I was even overcome with indignation.  Suddenly he turns, giving peace in the rite, and in a half-turn he blesses me.  And then I clearly recognize the well-known features of the face of the Monk Seraphim of Sarov, so bright, joyful.  And on this I wake up.

When I woke up, I told my wife, who was soon to go to church services.  After breakfast, I sat down in an armchair to think about how I should speak at the meeting and then with Vladyka.  I notice that the button on the sleeve of my cassock is hanging by one thread and is about to break off.  Before I had time to touch her, she pulled away and fell on the chair in the fold between the handle and the seat cushion.  I put my hand there to get it, as my fingers felt the touch of a piece of paper.  I pulled and pulled out a sheet of the tear-off calendar.  My eyes fell on the date: in red numbers it was:

August 1st / July 19th - Uncovering of the relics of St. Seraphim of Sarov.  Then it dawned on me, even goosebumps ran over my skin, that this was no coincidence.

On the evening before the meeting, I asked for the attention of the parishioners and told them what had happened.  Everyone listened to me attentively, and when I concluded my word by the fact that, perhaps, by this, the Monk Seraphim himself indicates to us that it pleases him to be our heavenly patron, all my parishioners, in unanimity and in common joy, asked me to go to Vladyka and ask him  to give a blessing for the foundation of the parish of the Monk Seraphim, the Wonderworker of Sarov. Not a single person had ever thought to name a temple in the name of Seraphim.  Their complete agreement and joy was evident on their faces.  Yes, and I, always very reverent and in awe of the memory of the Monk Seraphim, was far from thinking of having him as our heavenly patron.

I went to see Vladyka Tikhon.  He knew about our decision to have a church in honor of the Resurrection of Christ and had already prepared the necessary papers to be sent to the Synod.  When I informed him about the decision of the parish to change the patronage of the church, he became terribly angry and pointed out that everything was ready and there was no need to succumb to the whims of the parishioners.  Then I told him everything in order.  He listened to me, crossed himself and, sighing deeply, said: “Well, apparently, I don’t have a chapel for him.  And I wanted to set up a chapel to the Monk Seraphim in my cathedral. "

Saying goodbye, he cordially blessed me, and soon our new St. Seraphim Church was consecrated. "

Father Grigory Kravchina


8. New York.  Novo-Diveevo

Perhaps the most significant manifestation of the closeness of the Monk Seraphim outside of Holy Russia is this modest monastery, created by a great feat in honor of his memory near the bustling multimillion-dollar city of New York.  There the Monk has been doing his holy work for more than half a century, helping homeless Russians who have found themselves in a foreign land.  But he also calls on his American neighbors to Holy Orthodoxy.  Many accepted our Holy Faith and joined the ranks of the ascetics, despite, and sometimes even in spite of the godless spirit of apostatic anti-culture.

One of the lifetime portraits of the Monk Seraphim, depicting him at full height, painted on canvas in oil, of enormous size, was miraculously saved from the satanic defeat of the atheist power of the communists.  Through the prayers of the Reverend himself, who expressed a desire to send him to Kiev, his portrait appeared already upon the arrival of the Germans there in one of the churches there.  When the danger threatened to be bombed or desecrated upon the return of the Communists there, they took him abroad to save him, and so he survived. Before their retreat from Kiev in September 1943, the Germans issued an order for the complete eviction of residents from the city, prowled with dogs, catching out here and there the unfortunate residents hiding.  One of the translators, accompanying the commandant of the city, "accidentally" entered the Intercession Church and saw the image of the Monk Seraphim.  Horror gripped him that the image would perish.  He cast lots, to take - not to take, - it turned out to take.  To the surprise of the translator, the German commandant did not interfere with this, and the shrine was taken to the city of Lodz.

One of the Kiev priests, Father Adrian Rymarenko, was given the image for safekeeping and, thus, accompanied him through the torment of refugees in different cities and camps in Germany, and later ended up in America.  Father Adrian was of high spiritual life, a disciple of the Optina elders;  the great Elder Nektarios died under his stole, and he blessed Father Adrian on the spiritual path as a monastic, whom he worked in the Kiev Intercession Monastery. Around him a monastic-minded community was formed, which daily celebrated, wherever they were, a full circle of daily Divine Services.  Upon arrival in America, he was assigned to found a women's monastery with the Diveyevo charter, as if the continuation of the closed and outraged Diveyevo in long-suffering Russia.  And the Monk Seraphim undertook to lead with an invisible hand, just like with the old Diveev, physically not being there.  He created a monastery in America for nuns coming from Germany, Western Europe, China and other countries.

It was difficult at first.  They lived since 1949 in uncomfortable conditions, they even lived in an elephant house.  (At first, they sheltered with an impoverished tyrant who kept a huge elephant in the garden for his amusement. When the elephant died, a community of nuns settled in his house, having nothing more suitable). The elderly homeless nuns were glad for that too, they thanked God for the elephant as well.  Among them were the holy lives of the ascetic, not yet described by modern chroniclers.  One of them was the first abbess, the spiritual daughter of the now glorified Saint John of Shanghai, Schema Abbess Michael.

The foundation day of the monastery is considered to be the Pokrov of 1949.  Through the prayers of the Monk Seraphim, a suitable estate was found, where the now huge resting place of the modern righteous, who laid the foundation for Holy Russian asceticism on American soil, was located.

Father Herman (Podmoshensky)