Elder Barsanuphius of Optina
Talks with Spiritual Children (Part I)
January 2, 1911
Glory be to the Lord!
We've made it to the Feasts. The present days are called
"Svyatki," that is, holy days, since the Church dedicates them to the
commemoration of the Nativity of the Savior of the world.
But what is now taking place in the world is terrible to
consider!—overeating, drunkenness and debauchery.
Gogol has a story entitled "How Ivan Ivanovich Quarrelled
With Ivan Nikiforovich." In it is described how, for insignificant reasons, two
friends quarrelled throughout their whole lives, exhausted all their means on
court cases and became impoverished, if only to prosecute one another. A sad
story! Gogol ends his tale with the words, "It's wearisome to live in this
world, sir!"
We are living through terrible times: people are rising up
against one another, often sparing neither relations nor friendships. They're
rising up against the lawful authorities; everything is being trampled
upon—faith, virtue and modesty. The unruliness increased after the declaration
of all manner of freedom under Alexander II. It's not wearisome, but terrible to
live in this world, sir! But then again, it does not follow that one should fall
into despair over this. It has been even worse in the past. As for the present,
things will calm down yet. It's not yet the time before antichrist.
The theater at the present time acts in a corrupting way
upon the soul, since such immoral things are played in it as Andreyev's
"Anathema" and similar plays. The Lord is merciful but is also just. The Holy
Scriptures say, "The Lord will not be mocked" (cf. Gal. 6:7). He will endure
sins and iniquities for a long time, but if a man does not want to correct
himself, He will punish the wicked one with sudden death. "In whatsoever state I
find you, so will I judge you" says the Lord. Horrible will be the fate of a man
who dies suddenly while committing sins.
One rich man who had married a poor girl began soon
afterwards to taunt her in every way and gave himself over to a loose life. Once
he was at the theater at an immoral show. During the intermission he went to the
buffet, took a glass of wine, and suddenly fell down dead. How will such a soul
appear at God's judgment?!
Or here's another similar incident. Once in Vienna in the
Rink-Theater some sort of profane show was playing. Suddenly a fire broke out,
which quickly spread throughout the building, and a great number of people
perished. A staggering impression was produced by the sight when a mass of
coffins later followed one another to the cemetery. And what was the fate beyond
the grave of these people? It's frightful to consider!
Now everything is permitted, and theatrical performances
play even on great feasts. Earlier, shows did not play in public theaters on
feast days. I remember how once in Kazan, on the feast of St. Nicholas, a
performance was allowed. Suddenly a fire broke out in the wings which gave rise
to a general panic. However, there were no human victims—the Lord was merciful,
by the prayers of the Holy Hierarch. For a long time after this shows were not
permitted on the feast of St. Nicholas the Wonderworker.
When I was in the world I loved opera. Good, serious music
gave me pleasure and I always had a subscription—a seat in the orchestra. Later
on, when I learned of different, spiritual consolations, the opera ceased to
interest me. When a valve of the heart closes to the receptivity of worldly
enjoyments, another valve opens for the reception of spiritual joys.
But how does one acquire this? First of all, by peace and
love towards one's neighbors: Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity
envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave
itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil;
rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; beareth all things,
hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity never faileth... (I Cor.
13:4-8). Then, by patience. Who will be saved? He that endureth to the end
shall be saved (Matt. 10:22). Also, by withdrawing from such sinful
pleasures as, for instance, card-playing, dances, and so on.
One man had a dream of people dancing the quadrille, and an
angel of the Lord taught him, saying, "Take a look at what they are doing." And
he saw it: "Lord, this is actually a desecration of the Cross of Christ." In
fact, the French quadrille was invented during the era of the revolution to
trample on the Cross—you see, either four or eight people dance it, so that it
turns out to be a cross.
A schema-nun had a similar dream. It seemed to her that the
dancers were engulfed by flames and encircled with ropes and demons were leaping
about and gloating over the destruction of the people.
So now it's "Svyatki," but what a sharp difference there is
between those celebrating these holy days in the world and in the Monastery.
There, in the world, they're serving the enemy; here in the Monastery there is
service to God. While in the world iniquities are reaching their greatest degree
of development, in the Monastery there is joy and peace in the Lord. The solemn
church services touch the soul and dispose it to begin to feel more strongly the
whole limitless goodness of the Lord, Who is now being born of the Bride of God,
the Virgin Mary. In our Monastery, nature itself disposes one to a quiet joy in
the Lord.
At the same time that people in the world are attracted to
worldly literature, often of immoral content, in the monasteries there is the
reading of the Psalter and, in one's free time, the Lives of Saints. When I
entered the Monastery, the desire arose in me to reread all of our classics. I
revealed this to the Elder, but he forbade me. I'm glad now that I heeded his
wise counsel, since the desire to occupy myself with worldly literature was the
enemy's fishing line, to arouse within me recollections of worldly life and,
perhaps, regrets over it. I don't wish to say that reading the works of our
great writers is a sin—but there is reading that is more profitable and
edifying. In the first place, there is the reading of the Psalter—this book was
written by the holy King and Prophet David at the urging of the Holy Spirit. The
Prophet David himself says, My tongue is the pen of a swiftly writing scribe
(Ps. 44:1). And the Lives of Saints are indispensable readings, which act
beneficially upon the soul, especially if you read them in Slavonic.
At the present time many do not understand the Slavonic
language, but meanwhile it's incomparably more beautiful and rich than Russian.
One expert compared Slavonic and Russian and said that there is such a
difference between them as there is between a magnificent cathedral and a simple
village church. In the world people have entirely left off reading the Lives of
Saints, especially in Slavonic. Don't you conform to the customs of this
age—take up this salvific reading.
Visit the monasteries, especially on feast days, even when
I'm not here. Don't forget to come here to give rest to your soul. And maybe the
Lord will vouchsafe one of you the monastic rank. Although monastic life is full
of afflictions and temptations, it still bears within itself great consolation
as well, of which the world hasn't the slightest comprehension.
However, it doesn't matter how you're saved, just as long as
you are saved and reach the Kingdom of Heaven, which may the Lord vouchsafe all
of us. Amen.
April 11, 1911
It is the day of Resurrection, let us be radiant, O ye
people; this is the Pascha, the Pascha of the Lord, from death to life and from
earth to heaven, Christ our God has passed us, who sing a hymn of victory....
What could be more ecstatic, more joyful, than this Canon?! Where could there be
an expression of greater joy?!
Full joy does not occur in this life, where we see God only through a
glass, darkly. This joy will begin yonder, beyond the grave, when we will see
the Lord face to face. Not everyone will see God the same way, but each will see
Him according to the measure of his own receptivity. In fact, even the vision of
the Seraphim is distinguished from the vision of simple angels. One can only
say—whoever has not seen Christ in this life will not see Him in the next. The
capability of seeing God is attained through work on oneself in this life.
The life of any Christian person can be depicted graphically
in the form of an uninterruptedly ascending line. But the Lord does not allow a
man to see this ascent; He conceals it, knowing human weakness, knowing that by
observing his own improvement it would not take a man long to become prideful,
and where there is pride, there too is a fall into the abyss. [Benjamin]
Franklin thought up a horrible thing, proposing that people, on special little
boards, make note of their successes of the day, of the week, and so on. In this
way one can reach a state of terrible prelest, and tumble down into the
abyss of destruction.
No, ours is a different path. We must all strive towards
God, towards heaven, towards the East; but we must see our sins and weaknesses,
confessing ourselves to be the first among sinners, seeing ourselves as beneath
all, and all others as above us. However, this is a difficult thing; we all try
to take notice of others—he's weak in this, but I'm not; I'm a good boy, better
than him. One must struggle against this trait. This is a tough struggle, but
without it it's impossible to see God. True, only a few people have seen God
face to face, like St. Seraphim of Sarov, but we must all, without exception,
strive, if only to see His reflection. If we believe in Christ and try,
according to our strength, to fulfill His commandments, then even if only
through a crack, we'll still see Him. Our vision of Christ and the vision of the
saints can be compared to the ability of a man and an eagle to look at the sun.
The eagle rises high above the earth, soars in the sky, and with unblinking eyes
looks at the sun. But man's sight is not adapted to this; man cannot bear the
fullness of the light. Thus it is as well with Divine light—those who are
adapted to this spiritual sight will see Him, and the rest will not.
One distressed intellectual wrote to me: "I'm having a very difficult
time. Outwardly everything is fine—business is going well, there's harmony in my
family, and I have a good wife. But the trouble is that I have no one to whom I
can bare my soul. My wife doesn't understand what I'm depressed over, and the
children are still small. What can I do? How can I be delivered from melancholy
and sorrow?"
I advised him to read the Psalter. "In the 93rd Psalm is the following:
According to the multitude of my sorrows in my heart, Thy consolations
brought gladness unto my soul (Ps. 93:19). Take this verse and start reading
the Psalter. I think God will comfort you," I wrote to him. Some time passed. I
received a letter: "I heeded you and began to read the Psalter, but I don't
understand anything at all in it." I wrote to him: "The great Elder Ambrose
replied to such a statement, You don't understand, but then again, the demons
understand perfectly and run away.' Read for now, without understanding, and at
some point you'll begin to understand." I don't know what will happen next. And
to you I repeat—read the Psalter daily, even a little, and the Lord in His mercy
will not abandon you, and will always be your Helper and Comforter. Amen.
April 12, 1911
In the first century the followers of Christ the Savior
received Communion every day, but they led a life equal to that of the angels
and were ready every minute to stand before the face of God. None of the
Christians were safe. It frequently happened that a Christian would receive
Communion in the morning and in the evening he would be seized and led out to
the coliseum. Being in constant danger, Christians looked after their spiritual
peace with a watchful eye and conducted their lives in purity and holiness.
But the first centuries passed, persecutions from
unbelievers ceased, and the constant danger passed. Then, instead of daily
Communion they began to commune once a week, then once a month, and now even
once a year.
Here in the Skete we follow the rule of Mount Athos,
compiled by holy elders and handed down to us for our edification. All the monks
commune six times a year, but with a blessing, sometimes even more often.
They've gotten so used to this that more frequent Communion attracts general
attention....
"Why did Fr. Jerome receive Communion today?"
"The Elder permitted him."
"But why?"
"The devil appeared to him in a tangible form and he's
become totally debilitated."
"Ah ... well, then it's understandable."
However, it's always possible to confess, even every day,
and here they confess quite often. The skete-dwellers come to the Elder every
day for revelation of thoughts, while the monastery brethren do so once a week.
From the monastery brethren, and especially from the skete brethren, an exalted
life according to the commandments of Christ is required; a life equal to that
of the angels. Our reposed Elders fulfilled these lofty precepts, and the Lord
glorified them. Their bodies, we believe, lie incorrupt. It's known concerning
Fr. Macarius that his body did not undergo corruption, which they were able to
make certain of when a chapel was placed over him—and, you know, he reposed
sixty years ago.
It's a remarkable phenomenon: the bodies of righteous ones
and ascetics are incorrupt. Of the bodies of the kings and rulers of this world
there remains a handful of ashes and nothing more. Not long ago it was written
that during excavations of the catacombs there were found the tombs of
Diocletian, Nero, and other rulers, before whom the whole world once trembled.
And what was the fate of their dust? When they asked a menial worker what was in
the urns, he replied indifferently, "Ashes."
"And where are the ashes?"
"I gave them to my wife to wash the laundry with—they were
good ashes."
My God! Could these kings and rulers ever have supposed that
their dust would wind up in a tank for washing dirty laundry?! How much care
these people took for their bodies, and look what their fate was. But the saints
and all our Optina Elders mortified their bodies and they remained incorrupt.
Our holy Monastery attracts many worshippers. And one often
hears the opinion that whoever visits Optina even once will gravitate towards it
with his whole soul. Our Monastery has neither wonderworking icons nor glorified
relics; but here, it seems, the whole earth is covered with the blood and sweat
of the holy Elders, and their prayers send down grace upon the souls of
believers. Even our Vladyka who, being a bishop, has visited many monasteries,
has said that there's something special in Optina.
In Russia there are not many sketes.... But our Skete is the
only one in which there are very rarely outsiders in the church—and then, only
for the Liturgy. But we always celebrate Matins only with our skete family. Our
skete church makes a powerful impression on the visitor: such singing of ancient
chants, moving services, the absence of people. The monks each have their
specific places in which they regularly stand. Special also is the sound of the
skete bells—quiet and monastic. One pious man once donated a bell to us weighing
5,400 pounds, but it never made it to the Skete and was taken away. The very
largest we have weighs 1,400 pounds.
Glory be to the Lord that in the present century, a century of unbelief
and totally unbridled morals, there are still holy places in Russia, quiet
havens for those who wish to be saved. It's difficult to be saved in the world
amidst the seductions and the customs of this world that go counter to the Holy
Church. Evil communications corrupt good manners (I Cor. 15:33). It's
difficult to be saved in the midst of dissolute society. In the Holy Scriptures
it is said, With the holy man wilt thou be holy, and with the innocent man
wilt thou be innocent. And with the elect man wilt thou be elect, and with the
perverse wilt thou be perverse (Ps. 17:25-6). Sinful passions act
destructively upon the soul and body. Reading the Holy Fathers, when already
living in the Monastery, I learned for the first time that the passions are just
as contagious as infectious diseases, and how they can be transmitted through
objects. When St. Spyridon the Bishop of Tremithon was traveling to the First
Ecumenical Council, he stopped along the way at an inn. Someone who was
accompanying the holy hierarch, going in to see him, said:
"Father, I can't understand why our horse won't eat the
cabbage I bought for her from our host. The cabbage is good and fresh, even for
a man to eat—but the horse won't eat it."
"Because," replied St. Spyridon, "the beast senses an
unbearable stench coming from the cabbage, which proceeds from the fact that our
host is wounded by the passion of miserliness."
A man not enlightened by the Spirit of God doesn't notice
this, but the saints have the gift from God of discerning the passions. From the
belongings of a passionate man one can be infected by his passion.
It's surprising, of course, that animals sense the stench of
passions—not always, it's true, and only by the special Providence of God—but
many animals do possess a so-called second sight, and see spirits, when among
people only saints have that capability.
In the Holy Scriptures it's recounted how an ass saw an
angel that was barring the way, but the prophet Barlaam didn't see him. Such
special visions occur with beasts, of course, to teach us.
There was a fire in the home of one rich landowner. Suddenly
his father, who had died not long before this, came running into the room,
dressed as he was in the coffin, and cried out "Fire!" The dog, who had been
sleeping there, rushed at the dead man with a frightful barking. The man of the
house awoke and couldn't understand anything—why was the dog barking?—since he
didn't see his dead father. Only his servant, who told him about it later, saw
him, as well as the dog.
Natural surroundings also give us much that is edifying.
Everyone is familiar with the sunflower. It always turns its yellow head towards
the sun; it's drawn towards it, and from this it has received its name. But it
happens that a sunflower ceases to turn towards the sun. Then people who are
experienced in this matter say that it's begun to spoil; a worm has appeared in
it and it needs to be cut down quickly.
A soul that hungers for the statutes and the mercies of God
is similar to a sunflower and strives for and reaches out for God. If it ceases
to seek Him, it perishes. It's essential in this life to sense Christ. Whoever
has not seen Him here, will never see Him there, in the future life. But how can
one see Christ? The way to this is the unceasing Prayer of Jesus, which instills
Christ in our souls.
St. John Climacus was asked if there are reliable signs by
which it's possible to know whether a soul is drawing near to God or moving away
from Him. After all, regarding ordinary things there are clear signs as to
whether they're good or not. When, for instance, cabbage, meat or fish begins to
rot, it's easy to notice it, since the rotting object begins to give off a foul
odor, the color and taste change, and its external appearance witnesses to its
deterioration. Well, and what about the soul? After all, it's bodiless and can't
give off a bad smell or change its appearance. To this question the Holy Father
replies, "A sure sign of the deadening of the soul is the avoidance of church
services."
A man who is growing cold towards God begins first of all to
flee attending church. At first he tries to come to services later, and then he
ceases altogether to visit God's temple. Therefore it's mandatory for monks to
attend church services. True, it's sometimes permitted, due to urgent matters,
not to go to all the services, but when possible, it's regarded as a necessary
duty. Here in the Skete we even make the rounds of the cells on feast days, so
that no one evades church services.
When I was still in the world, I had a friend who regarded
monasteries with skepticism. "I don't understand—why do these people, especially
monks, sit alone in cells and isolate themselves from the gaze of people?"
Meanwhile, this man was a monk in his soul. His soul was pure and lofty. A poet
and musician, he had a special ability to read poetry like no one else. Music
was his passion. He would often be telling us something and would suddenly
exclaim, "No, I can't explain this in words, but here!" And he would sit down at
the piano, toss his head back and play. "Did you get it?" he would ask later.
Often you wouldn't understand him, but he did not change his method of
explanation.
His apartment was furnished with taste; there was nothing
banal in it—everything was beautiful, elegant and original, as outstanding as
its inhabitant. His soul was always nourished by lofty ideals. Rejecting
monasticism at first, he found full satisfaction for his lofty yearnings
precisely in a monastery, on Mount Athos, to which he went, abandoning the
world.
In the world I was fortunate to have become close with
people who were worthy of profound respect. I had occasion to be at large
gatherings. The others would play cards and dance, but I would find myself a
person with the same inclination of soul as myself, and we would go off
somewhere, to the farthest room, and would have a conversation. Even in the
world I didn't like to talk nonsense, and when there was nothing to say I would
become silent, sometimes all of a sudden. Many people noticed this. Of course,
my withdrawal from the seductions of this world perplexed many, and when I
stopped attending noisy gatherings and grew fond of visiting a monastery, they
began to speak of me as someone crazy or, at least, not entirely normal.
"Did you hear? Paul Ivanovich has become friends with monks!"
"Really? Now there's an unfortunate man!"
Such was the opinion of worldly people about me.
Yes! It's hard to be saved in the world. St. Nicholas, the Archbishop of
Myra in Lycia, went to the desert to labor there in fasting and prayer, but the
Lord didn't bless him to remain there. Appearing to the Saint, the Lord
commanded him to go to the world. "This is not the field upon which you will
bring forth fruit for me," said the Savior. Saints Thaisia, Mary of Egypt and
Eudocia likewise did not live in monasteries. It's possible to be saved
anywhere, only don't leave the Savior. Cling to the robe of Christ, and Christ
will never leave you.
Now are the days of holy Pascha, of the greatest feast of
the Christian Church—the Feast of feasts and Triumph of triumphs. Each day the
church is filled with the sound of the odes of the Paschal Canon. I recall how
captivated Matushka Euphrosyne was by the Canon.... "Here," she said, "my life has
gone by, and I know of nothing good concerning myself, with which I can stand
before the Throne of God—and I hear the ode, It is the day of Resurrection,
let us be radiant, O ye people, and my soul becomes joyous and peaceful.
From death to life and from earth to heaven, Christ our God has passed us...."
The Lord fulfilled the wish of Matushka Euphrosyne, and she reposed during the
Paschal period. When they lifted the coffin with her withered eighty-year-old
remains, the choir began to sing It is the day of Resurrection... instead
of Holy God.... The doors of the church were opened wide, light streamed in
from outside in waves, and she went off into the eternal, unsetting light.
May the Lord vouchsafe us such a blessed end. Pray for this,
and when the deacon exclaims, "A Christian ending to our lives, painless,
blameless, peaceful..."—don't forget to make a bow, and may the Lord grant you
rest with His saints. Amen.
From Elder Barsanuphius of Optina (Platina, CA: St. Herman Press),
pp. 439-450. Copyright 2000 by the St. Herman of Alaska Brotherhood, Platina, California. Used with permission.
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