In the desert

The Greek services were very rare and eventually they reduced to only one a year. It was a disaster for my spiritual life. I became so desperate that I even asked a local Catholic priest to allow me to partake communion occasionally – I heard from a Russian Orthodox priest that it was possible in extreme circumstances. The Catholic priest readily agreed but added that I must convert first. This settled the matter – I remained Orthodox.

 

During my early years in Australia I met an Anglican priest who came from an Orthodox family. From him I learnt about Dietrich Bonhoeffer and immediately connected in my mind this Lutheran pastor with mother Maria (Skobtsova). (Actually, I am wrong: I read Bonhoeffer in Moscow but did not know about mother Maria; I learnt about her later, in connection with Bonhoeffer.) He commissioned from me two huge icons for his tiny church and this was how I began painting icons. Out of my yearning for the Church I attended a few Anglican services but soon gave up. Although the people there were welcoming I felt empty spiritually. There were no longer confessions; the Body and Blood were understood as “symbols”.

 

Thirsty for the Eucharist, I kept making myself look like a fool or a “religious nut” when nominal Australian Christians stated that they “have God inside them so they do not need the Church”. I remember someone even said that she “makes communion herself, at home” – that statement horrified me. I would become enraged and literally jump on locals, getting out of myself, trying to convince them that they needed real communion and this is the meaning of the Church. Of course I did not convince anyone and eventually I made myself stop speaking about it.