Eucharist
When I think
about my trips back home to Moscow one episode
inevitably comes to my mind. The Liturgy in the church
in front of our apartment building, a working day so the
church was semi-empty. Suddenly I noticed a few men of a
very characteristic professional appearance whispering
something to the praying people, approaching them
quietly, one by one. One by one the people began
leaving. The man came to the middle-aged woman standing
near me who looked like a novice nun. She shook her head
and said “No, the Father is in the altar.” One of
“professionals” went into the altar space but returned
without the priest and joined his mates. I asked the
nun-like woman what it was all about. She whispered
“They think there is a bomb in the church”. Only the
priest, the supposed nun and I were now left in the
church; I was afraid but I could not leave because the
Eucharist had begun. Eventually the priest appeared with
the Cup in his hands, looked at us and suddenly smiled.
Then we all left. The professional looking men pulled
out of the dark corner near the altar area a very pale
woman of “Caucus nationality” – a suspected suicide
bomber. They successfully delivered her, almost hanging
on their arms, out of the church and locked into the
car. “Oh,” – said “the nun” wistfully, “If we blew up we
would go straight to heaven!”
I do not know whether there was a bomb or not. The huge
market nearby for some years was “the cover” for
criminal visitors from the ex-USSR republics, now
Muslim. The area around our church was full of police.
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