Breaks
My rare trips back to Moscow felt like respite. I walked
in all the familiar places, all my beloved monasteries
(among them always the Holy Trinity monastery in Sergiev
Posad), and studied the icons in the State Tretyakov’s
Gallery and in others. All my visits were connected with
Sergiev Posad one way or another, through the people I
met or books I bought. The second time I came to Moscow
with the intention to buy natural pigments for the egg
tempera – until then I used acrylics. I did not know
where to buy them and had no one to ask – I did not know
any Moscow iconographers, all my knowledge was from the
nun Juliania’s book. I went to see the icons in
Andronicov monastery and there, by a chance, saw copying
the icons students of the Holy Trinity seminary, the
future iconographers. One of them noticed me sketching
in my notebook, left his work, approached me, and we
spoke. When he learnt that I came from Australia and I
was an iconographer as well he gave me the detailed
instructions where to buy the pigments, which varnish to
use, and so on. In the end he told me “buy as much as
you can, for many years”. I easily found the shop and
bought everything he told me to.
Apart from Sergiev Posad, the second center of gravity
was Fr Alexander Men. It was because of his books which
I searched for in Moscow bookshops that I found out
about sister Ioanna (Reitlinger), an iconographer, a
spiritual daughter of Fr Sergiy Bulgakov, and much later
of Fr Alexander Men. Her icons and correspondence with
Fr Alexander influenced me enormously. With time I
realized that my life was shaped by these people
connected with each other: Men, Bulgakov, Florensky,
Krug, Reitlinger, Sokolova and also – by the artists
directly or indirectly related to them. Most of them
were left wing Orthodox (free-thinkers and
traditionalists at the same time), many connected with
the Paris School of Theology (an anathema for ROCOR and
a huge part of the ROC Moscow Patriachate). In my mind
somehow they all matched the old Moscow landscapes.
Walking through the Moscow streets, reading their books
I felt I was partaking of their culture, their
Orthodoxy. It is safe to say that what I experienced in
that reality was very much affected by them (for
example, my instinctive love for Sergiev Posad was
further enhanced by the knowledge how dear it was for Fr
Pavel Florensky, etc).
There were many seeming coincidences: an Internet
acquaintance told me about the relics of St Alexiy
Mechev, a spiritual father of nun Iuliania (this is how
I began reading about him and found much of great
importance that was necessary for me at that time) and
advised me to go to Diveevo, to St Seraphim of Sarov.
While in Moscow she introduced me to the abbot of the
Sergiev Posad monastery’s branch in Moscow. The abbot
gave me his blessing to go for a pilgrimage, and my
acquaintance provided me with vital information about
the trip.
The pilgrimage itself was a miracle. First my mother and
I took a night train to the old town Murom, to honor the
relics of our great saints, spouses Petr and Fevronia.
It was well before the sunrise, the town was very dark
and felt ancient with its emptiness and monotonous
sounds of the bells of many churches. After the early
Liturgy in the monastery we walked to the bus station
and discovered, to my despair, that there was no bus
that day going towards Diveevo. I felt like crying; one
of taxi drivers nearby said he would take us to the very
distant Diveevo and then bring back, for an unbelievably
modest sum of money. Not only did he do all that but he
showed to us all holy places in Diveevo and waited
patiently in the car everywhere I wished to spend some
time – the place is such that one does not want to
leave.
Because it was so cold there were almost no pilgrims in
the monastery, near St Seraphim’s relics, or near the
holy spring so we could be there as long as we wished.
Then he drove us to the spring of St Seraphim outside of
the monastery in the forest where I dipped into icy-cold
bluish-green water, strangely standing apart from the
semi-wintery landscape – it was late November, snow was
covering patches of land. (My mother did not follow me
because she was afraid to catch a cold but did
nevertheless; I did not although usually I catch a cold
easily.)
When we returned to Moscow we realized that somehow we
managed to visit three saints in two towns during one
day – the day went on endlessly.
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