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.
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