I resume didnt notice the time, and when the priest appeared with the chalice i understood that it was for. I couldnt have said what it was, Who it was, but I saw that people crossed their hands on their breasts and approached, and I did so also. As I came up to him the priest said, my dear, my dear, milinki my sweet—have you confessed? His voice was very warm. He was not rude or hard, upset or indignant, as we priests can be in this situation. I still remember that the first words of the priest were very warm and delicate; otherwise, i would never have returned to the church as I did a month later. I said, no, i havent.
I didnt know what awaited. As i entered I saw a large icon of our saviour in a white garment, with His hands spread out, as if saying, come to me all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. This icon was an original work painted by the add russian new-martyr, metropolitan Seraphim Chichagov, who wrote the famous narrative about. Seraphim of Sarov, the Chronicles. The face of our saviour in the icon was pale, and His eyes followed you wherever you stood. Three or four old ladies, old Moscow intelligentsia with very feeble voices, were singing the beatitudes. Blessed are the pure of heart, for they shall see god At that moment I found what I was searching for, because, all of a sudden (I could never have predicted it, or believed it possible) as I stood in front of the icon,. In that moment, my heart found everything that it needed.
I hadnt thought about these things before. It was an emotional state, and now i understand that it was a very appropriate moment for heavenly grace to touch my heart. I was trying to find the link that had broken in our communication with our grandmother, and my soul would not sleep. I was searching for this spiritual path, but I did not know how to touch. I didnt believe that she had died, but I couldnt find the thread between the visible and invisible worlds. I began to write poems where for the first time god was present, and I tried to look very attentively at her photographs. This was the first time that I felt that the visible world was somehow transparent, and that there must be a way to move beyond. Sometime later, i went back to the same church that I hadnt been able to enter six years before.
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RtE: Was there any point in your life when, like the disciples, you met the lord on your own road to Emmaus? There was graduates a particular point, certainly. Being rather a callous young man, a university student, i didnt have a mild heart—although, certainly, it wasnt the heart of a mafioso. The first visitation of our Lord was when our grandmother died. I remember her last words, which she whispered as my twin brother and I sat by her bed in the hospital. It resumes was like a testament: I would like you to become good people. She was inspired, and her death was very, very light.
She astonished the medical sisters nurses with her noble behavior. She didnt complain, she wouldnt ask anyone for anything, and Gods grace certainly manifested in the last weeks of her life. After her death something changed in our family; it was as if a dark shadow was lifted. There was a feeling of eternity, as if blinders had been removed. I still remember the night of her death, the first night of my life that I didnt sleep. It was not yet prayer for me, it was emotional pain. I thought about her, about how loving she was, and I cried a little.
Nevertheless, our family was not a soviet one. No one was Communist, and my parents, who were of the russian intelligentsia of the 50s and 60s—they were both physicists—were critical of the soviet power, although they were never dissidents. Some deep roots of Christianity still remained, however, and every pascha our grandmother tried to take us to watch the Cross procession pass, to listen to the choir, and then to come back to taste kulichi and pascha. We never went to church regularly, and we never heard anything about God, nor were we taught to pray. It was only after my grandmothers death that I found a wooden box with an icon of Jesus Christ, holding in His hands the chalice and bread of the holy supper.
This is now my most precious icon, and I pray in front. RtE: How did you become Orthodox? a young pioneer—a member of the state-run youth groups that were almost mandatory for Russian school-children. The groups had an emphasis on cultural, artistic, sport and outdoor programs, with the soviet philosophy heavily underlying all activities. Artemy: I was baptized when I was three years old, and gave my first confession when I was eighteen. I was a student of the philological faculty at the university.
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I also remember an atheist who visited our school, lecturing on how he had become an unbeliever after graduating from the seminary. In an interview in twist the newspaper, he had denied everything he had believed in, and I was rather impressed by his personality. I was also impressed by the enumeration mom of the disciplines he had studied in the seminary: it was a sort of advertisement that he made of himself. When I came home and narrated my impressions to my grandmother, i remember that her eyes filled with pain and sorrow, but she didnt argue with. I was a pioneer and I said to her as a sort of protest, and that clever man doesnt believe in God. RtE: you mean he went to the seminary and then stopped believing? Artemy: he was sent to the seminary like a trojan Horse. My grandmother didnt argue with me, she only replied, i dont think he can be a good man.
didnt understand her, and were even a little irritated by these confessions. Although there was a church on the street where we lived, i never paid any attention to the bells that rang on Sunday morning. It was as if I was deaf and dumb. Now i understand what our saviour meant when he spoke of people who close their eyes and ears and harden their hearts. I was noticeably influenced by the soviet schools, and I remember the day my grandmother first tried to lead me to a church. The moment I smelled the aroma of the incense and saw the mystical darkness of the interior, i stopped on the steps, turned, and ran away—not understanding why i wanted to escape.
Artemy: At the beginning I would like to apologize for my poor English. My vocabulary is not so broad as to express all the shades of meaning that I have in my heart. Therefore my readers may be a little inconvenienced by my lack of words, but my aim will be to make the point. I was born in 1961, the year the first soviet Cosmonaut found himself orbiting the earth. Certainly, i was not brought up in an outspokenly Orthodox family. We were baptized, but that is all. I suppose that my grandmother considered paperless herself a christian, but she didnt attend services until she became ill with cancer.
I m singal, god is b - english - hindi Translation and
Artemy Vladimirov, an English-speaking Moscow priest from the Church of All saints at Krasnoselskaya, has, for the past decade, been a mainstay for Western Orthodox converts living in Moscow and visitors seeking a deeper spiritual life. His staunchly traditional belief, deep insight, warm humor, and willingness to reach out to souls from diverse backgrounds, have brought more than a few foreigners to Orthodoxy. As the expatriate community has tree come and gone,. Artemy has generously presided over numerous missionary dinners, high teas, and spontaneous talks—unforgettable gatherings that awaken souls and delight the spirit. Road to Emmaus : Father Artemy, would you please tell us a little about your background and education? Was your family outspokenly Orthodox? Did you go to church regularly?