* * *
Yet Joanna remained a stranger to them.
The long-haired intellectuals detached from the Silent, watchful smile, their girlfriends and girls; they were thin and some dejected.
In the long skirts and scarves, with the same prayer book in her purse, sometimes with beads, flashing in thin fingers, whispering and look at each other about something, only their slave; they made a strange impression.
Joanna both irritated and fascinated by their isolation on themselves, sometimes ruthless attention to the inevitable self-flagellation for not only acts but also for improper thoughts.
Their stoic ability to stand very long life, a long time to pray at home, office... Not become irritated in relations with children, which Joanna would have long ago slapped cuffs?
Them dispassionately, courteous treatment to each other, unquestioning obedience to his father Cyprian, who demanded obedience sometimes in the most radical questions...
Like how to quit a prestigious job that has little to do with atheism, continue to live with a bully and a drunkard husband.
Not to mention the ban on use of contraceptives, even though these children are already smaller than the other.
They cried, but obeyed without a murmur.
Joanna was seen in all of this is truly the barracks violence against the person, a real terror.
And Varya in response interpreted it that our will is flawed, sinful, as well as our desires. What is the best way for a man - to renounce their faith and allow God to administer in spiritual father of your destiny.
For 'God's strength made perfect in weakness' and 'Teach me to do Thy Will...'
Varya said that we are often not given directly to know this Will and that it is useful to us. We sometimes even murmur, which are not fulfilled our requests and desires.
Let's say you're late for a plane to a sick child, pray that in time, but late and unhappy.
A plane crashes...
Can we predict the future? And the priests are often open, they are closer to heaven.
From the first statement was Joanna agrees. The second one she doubted.
'Beware of your dreams, sometimes they are made,' said one of the wise people.
And Varya tells the story of one gentleman who decided to throw a life of sin and enter a monastery. In the monastery, he asked the abbot of a solitary cell, a pitcher of water and loaf of bread a day. And so it was locked.
The abbot replied that the sooner you, brother, in the gate, for this feat you cannot afford. Express yourself better obedience to all his brothers, tat baskets.
I do not want, he says, all I want to go to seclusion.
'Well, they gave him a distant cell, bread, water, and locked up,' told Varya, 'He began to pray. The day passes, two, piled on top of him thoughts.
He remembered his old carefree life, feasts, women... In front of his eyes were delicious meals, beverages, beauty were running around, the devotee did not give up, praying diligently, all the visions of sin sweeps.
So a week passed and another...
All wins have vanished thoughts, demons, there was silence.
Sinful desires were gone, and the inside the emptiness of pitch!
It turns out that apart from this abomination, fuss, low thoughts and demons, there's nothing in his soul. Let the soul, then, seems to be, and him not.
Only emptiness.
'Cockleshell"', as Madame Blavatsky used to say.
'Then he yelled,' told Varya, 'Unlock!' He yelled.
Jumped out of his cell, shaking like crazy, cry, voids his horrified.
So God punished him for pride. Barely revived, put all the spin basket.
He began humbly, with tears pray to God to fill this poisonous void with light. And then gradually began to recover in him the image of God, which we will distort his evil and disfiguring.
So do not be wiser to this my will to renounce her faith? Voluntarily surrender to the hands of the Creator?
And do not stop to save...
Remembering that something similar had told her about himself Ignatius, Joanna argue that the priest, not God, he may sin, and wrong.
And Varia says that even if you make a mistake, then the demand will be with him. Because your spiritual answers for you to Heaven.
'What about freedom?' asked Joanna, 'Or is it really a 'perceived need'?'
'Perceived need to do the will of God.
What in the world called 'freedom' just an opportunity to create their own sinful will.
The lust of the flesh, lust of the eyes and the pride of life. Prisoner in his own passions and lusts.
No it is not freedom, but a real slavery.
It is burden Human Bondage.
The Lord said, 'Know the Truth and the Truth shall make you free.'
Cleanse your soul completely vessel of his own passions, let God fill it with light, and know true freedom.
Because only God is free...
Joanna never tired of surprising that there is at the center of the atheist of the Union such a unique nature reserve.
No, not a monastery, and the laity, the Soviet people. And, mostly young.
Scientists, students, artists, doctors, students who selflessly fought with passions (even elegant dress, cake, cosmetics, every idle thought here show a sin) ...
Read long prayers, stand for long service in the church, shall comply with all positions, including Wednesday and Friday (Wednesday Judas betrayed Christ, on Friday he was crucified.
Thy are busy in the flower beds and beds, silently Creating the Jesus Prayer, to cut off all sorts of idle and bad thoughts.
And firmly believe that after this ghostly, evil, unrighteous life, where "Satan reigns," nothing will come, great and eternal kingdom of light.
'And God shall wipe away every tear from their eyes and death shall be no more, nor mourning, nor outcry, nor pain will not be for the former things have passed away'.
'He who overcomes shall inherit all things, and I will be his God and he shall be my son.'
'He who overcomes,' repeated Varya, 'we are here as punishment.
Remember 'In the sweat of thy face...'
And to give birth in pain.
And then illness, loss of loved ones, misery all around, old age, death...
What here a feast! If it is a feast, then it is during the plague.
'We are at war for dying souls. To think otherwise just blasphemy against God!' excited Varya, 'to think that God has called us to a mortal life with its sufferings blasphemy, even if we ourselves are to blame.
After all, he knew the beginning, that man will fall, will be cast out of paradise to the suffering and death. To think that God created man only to be punished is to suspect the Creator of cruelty.
This is the phrase of Dostoevsky tears of a child...
Yes, there is no short earthly paradise cannot justify the suffering of previous generations.
Only eternal life in the kingdom. This explains and justifies everything.
Jesus showed us the way. He became a man, went through all the suffering and resurrection. He said:
'I am the Way, the Truth and the Life.'
Why?
So we went His way.
He created us for a happy eternal life.
He gives us a chance - himself, his flesh and blood.
Terrestrial life - is our chance. Only.
"He who endures to the end - will be saved" ...
'Just think, because if flown well, for example, aliens, and would say: "Here, humans, instructions, rules of life, the great law of love and unity. And, if you execute it, and death for you will only be a transition to our world, beautiful and eternal.'
Probably, almost all would have gladly agreed.
Why do not we obey the Creator of the universe, who redeemed us by his blood? Is not that crazy?
We are afraid of losing a paltry dubious pleasure, we want to make merry here.
It is earthly happiness...
Is it possible at all, even in a moral sense, when there is so much suffering? Truly wise to seek his fortune, where the Creator has commanded.
Genius Pascal calculated and proved that even if there is one millionth chance of being God, do not put all the madness on this, saying, conditional card.
For in the case of loss of God's existence, the eternal separation of Light is the infinitely large. Totally disproportionate to those dubious pleasures that give the violation of the commandment.
And in the case of a "bet on God," is infinitely large gain and loss - all the same dubious feast during the plague.
Yes poisoned to the same periodic indigestion,' urged Varya.
The invisible world of His soul
Thrones above and porphyry...
Oh, believe me, anything that is not bribery,
Who is this wonderful world is available.
Whom the Lord has permitted opinion
In the sacred heart,
Where archetypal simmer
Tremble creative power!
Here it is, the kingdom of God within us, of whom the LORD had said. It is not beyond the grave, it begins here, now!
Why do not I born in that time,
When between us in the flesh,
Carrying a painful burden,
He walked the path of life!
Suffer your suffering
And the cross on his shoulders to take Your
And the crown of thorns on the head!
* * *
However, attempts to Joanna live 'as they do' have ended in a fiasco.
Relatively easy to was given a post.
Prayer is not obtained, beset by extraneous thoughts.
During his visits to Moscow, she managed to quarrel every time then editor-in-law that, in turn. Well though Philip went to the Crimea with his buddies!
Long struggled with them Joanna, but he could not bring herself to lend one ever afflicted friend to purchase the cooperative.
However, immediately grabbed his coat from the American opossum, which in the dressing room trying on kinodamy, mleya and shivering on the price.
Despising himself, Joanna ran for the money, as if with a chandelier, perfectly aware that her coat is to anything, she kept in a jacket and driving and is hardly ever clothe her.
Leave the theater, a restaurant, even at a party on a hanger in these times dangerous - uprut. And it does not go anywhere lately.
Not on the same queue in it, in fact, to push!
And yet grasped. As once in the chandelier, as once in Dennis.
Paid, drove home, enjoying stroking sticking out of a special, protected from moth package silky fur, when the car stopped at a traffic light.
It is mine!
A home package stuffed in a closet full of the same useless rags to ever forget it.
Do not lie, too, was quite impossible.
She found that her whole life is a lie.
She just said is not what is, and what to say.
Meet and maintained a relationship with someone 'right'.
And these 'necessary' were just a lie, so familiar that and did not notice.
'Orthodoxy is a is very strict belief,' said Father Cyprian, - Do you have the determination to start a new life?"
Joanna almost desperate: she, like the monk from Varya's history, finds himself in a compelling new abomination.
Why Ignatius hovered in this measurement is easy, happy and free, simply dropping his former life as a shabby clothes? Having given all he had, up to the talent that is now devoted to God alone?
Not so exemplary wife, mother, humble parishioner with downcast eyes dale, desiccated anti-commonplace and passions torn to Heaven on a dull morass of everyday (so it at least seemed) she wanted to be...
And as Ignatius to burn with abandon in the sacred fire ...
Fasting, prayer, solitude for he had no duty, and God's fuel, which burned all the excess, heavy, earthy. Easier and freed the soul and body in the unstoppable desire for Heaven.
'Give flesh, take the spirit.'
'Again, the kingdom of heaven is treasure hidden in a field that has found a man concealed, and for joy thereof goeth and selleth all that he has and buys that field'.
(Matthew.13:44).
'Ignatius is a son, and we are slaves,' said Varya, 'slave submits his master's will. Son perform it easily and happy as his own.
This is given only by the grace of the Holy Spirit. Remember, in some confusion remained disciples of Christ after the crucifixion? Remember Thomas a believer!
And then suddenly there came a sound from heaven, and came down on them like tongues of fire...
And since they were filled with the Spirit, began boldly to preach the gospel.
And almost all were martyred for Christ.
But they believed in the past, saw the miracles that Jesus did!
They have changed. It's a miracle the birth from above, of which the Lord said in his conversation with Nicodemus.
'If a man be born again he cannot see the kingdom of God.
Born of the flesh is flesh, and born of the Spirit is spirit.
The spirit breathes where it wills and you hear its sound, it happens with the born of the spirit.'
That is higher state given by the Lord to his chosen. The Kingdom of God during his lifetime.
'The Prophet' Pushkin opened higher mysteries.
And John of Damascus:
And the sea foamy water.
Earth and the sun and the moon.
And all the constellations dance.
And the blue expanse of the deep.
That is all mere reflection,
Only the shadow of the mysterious beauties
Which the eternal vision lives
In the soul of the chosen in!
The chosen one... And we are slaves.
Joanna was surprised: is everyone really not all equal before God?
'Here in the case granted liberty to ourselves.
When in the parable the Lord called to his feast, called, refused who married who had household or other cares.
That is again traded his birthright, the immortality of God, for a mess of pottage.
And then the Lord said bitterly:
'Many are called but few are chosen.'
That is they have chosen the narrow path. The first translation was 'those who chose'.
God chooses those who are chosen him as the heart. Who persist in seeking God.
Who heard the call, throws everything and runs to him.
And we look to the corruptible, earthly.
We are sorry to lose him, and we turning to stone like Lot's wife. We are rational and cold.
Rather, think rationally, and in fact, mad...
They are lukewarm.
And the Lord said, 'Give me a son, thine heart.'
If you are not looking for God, you do not want to believe, you'll never find him.
God does not force His love for us, He made us free...
'Yes, Varya is right, I am cold', thought Joanna, 'I'm here because of Ignatius.'
But I believe in You, O Lord, have always believed. And I know that my soul is immortal.
Why am I so indifferent to their fate in eternity?
Or she, the soul, really atrophied, numb to senseless, as the Varya. Feels no pain, no feeling of danger...
I know it is God who has given me everything: life, health, talent... But I do not give him the heart.
I know that close and not close in need of my help, but I'm indifferent.
I treat people as things that you want or do not want to have.
Things are of benefit, enjoyment, entertain, annoy, finally, causing discomfort.
No mother, no wife, no daughter, I'm alone...
* * *
Magic fire by the name of 'Ignatius'...
The flames, which he selflessly, without the rest was consumed, but sometimes it scorched unbearably hot otherworldly spark when she came too close.
This calling and it did not fend for themselves for the fire was habitat for Ignatius, live meant to burn.
In the fire had its own laws: burn, to be reborn, to die and be resurrected.
Closer to God, a breakthrough to another dimension.
'Light of Tabor' was not given, are too heavy and rough, he was on the earth.
Ignatius prevented all: his own flesh with its needs, the little noise, even thoughts.
All life on earth, it seemed, was on the way to the attainment of this Light, who burned him and did not want to be transferred to the canvas.
Ignatius knew it was from pride - the pursuit of incomprehensible, but I could not help myself and was on the verge of nervous exhaustion, almost stopped eating and sleeping.
Prayed silently for hours. The setting sun, penetrating through the dusty glass studio, snatched it merged with the wall shape with closed lips and eyelids.
Only occasionally revived in the cross-arm flight evolved into a bow waist body and grow into the wall again, motionless, silent, mummy.
He went to the patiently waiting for Joanna every night, barely able to stand - ash-gray, smoky, though, and promised his father Boris gradually quit smoking for the start of classes.
Mechanically swallowed left dinner on the terrace, is still staying there, on Mount Tabor; he was overgrown, not even thin, and some desiccated.
Only the eyes were greedy hungry fire in the futile pursuit of the incomprehensible.
She understood that he is as happy as it is unhappy.
No one could help him, and have no strength left in an attempt to reduce the proud disastrous Heaven on earth.
They walked shoulder to shoulder among the glowing sunset barrels every day before fading according to the astronomical calendar.
And it all accumulated daily energy rejuvenated that flourished from the blissful life freely Luzhino's body shimmered in Ignatius.
Healthy food is rustic, fresh milk with raspberries, sun, under which it is roasted for hours on the lake with another clever book, or driving the kids to Yegor's ball, and then to stupor to envy the kids swimming.
'Aunt Yana, it's time to get out, catch a cold!' they shouted in chorus.
And she crawled out like a mermaid, smelling mud, pulled out of the hair long green algae. Changing her clothes in the bushes, pulling the dress right on the still wet body, jumped as a child while out of the ears are not spilled water.
And then fast asleep with the window open.
Summer ended, ended, and mosquitoes. You could drink had a good night luzhinsky air hails flowers and herbs.
'Joanna...'
Ignatius squeezed her hand. They walked, often in blissful silence union, encompassing the entire world that would hold them.
And red trees in sunset bent over their heads, and sang them sleepy birds, and red spirit of caressed Alma feet.
And gradually, drop by drop, its accumulated energy per day, the life force flowed into it.
She saw her emaciated body turning pink cheeks and lips straightening, filled with life.
'Walk more,' he asked.
But she shook her head, drunk, burnt to the bottom ashes and immensely happy that she managed to let him indirectly, but his climb to the fire.
And burn to fail firebrand in her maiden bed in his attic.
And in the morning again gather strength for a mad race for Ignatius light of Tabor.
He saw, as granted that if her resurrected.
He used to like her, the miracle of their union, they were destined, perhaps, the general circulation.
Like Siamese twins, becoming in turn a vampire is the donor.
Yes, it was cold toward God and neighbor.
Ignatius does not count.
Ignatius was from another world, a miracle. And to the other inhabitants of Luzhino Joanna stared with curiosity, with affection, sometimes with admiration, while remaining "the cat walks by itself."
And it was regarded with apprehension as to the 'unchurched'.
It was strange 'not with us'. How would an agent of the enemy's camp, from which all can wait.
And Varya, and waited for the rest of her resolute step, but her father forbade them to insist Cyprian and agitate until Joanna decides to change lives.
Now, when she drove him to Moscow, he held all the more reserved and formal, making sure that Joanna seems to be random in Luzhino's bird and fly away with the end of the season.
Proud, clever, lukewarm intellectuals. Mental, not spiritual.
Rank, but not chosen.
Well, Ignatius...
Ignatius had never been agitated, apparently, just confident that everything must be fulfilled in their time.
And the old-master Uncle Jack, whom she regularly supplied by foreign detectives and that it is sometimes barkers at dinner with a glass of red wine home, glad that now, even a normal person in the house, have someone to talk 'to life'.
And then some sacred circle, do not tell too much, do not clap on the back, that look angelic wings will break.
But his father, a priest, Gleb's grandfather considered himself the most sinful.
And the fun was, and he loved wine in moderation...
And why not just endured: in the Kolyma sweat eight years, then in exile, then how many people saved during the occupation in the church basement.
Gave him a medal, as the hero. Who denounced, the Germans would have shot the whole family.
But do not go with the lean face, and taught at all to thank God and rejoice.
Because Christ is risen and conquered death. But everything else is nonsense.
Cooking really thought Uncle Eugene heretic, though properly cared for and loved him in his own way, everything is easier.
And Gleb said that it seems to be easy - to live outside of the church and its canons, to cultivate their own little weaknesses... But where minor demon - there they take a number and can easily fall.
You cannot cross the sea without a ship.
And it was evident that both condemn her friendship with an old man, believe that it is bad.
But it is unlikely that any of Luzhino, including spiritual and philosophical reading, produced by Joanna more impact than a letter that Uncle Eugene kept between the pages of the Gospel reading regularly.
The letter was written to his son shortly before his death - a kind of testament, the result of earthly way.
Where a dying priest confessed that he disgraced the years in Solovki were the happiest in his life; never the Lord and His saving hand were not so close.
He had never felt so right people, as here, on the verge of being, never led many people to faith, the will of God...
Subsequently, the most grueling and most persistent post prayer could not repeat the feat this blissful feeling of 'burdens of the Cross on the unworthy, weak my shoulders he wrote the dying, ownership of His suffering and resurrection'."
Then she would often recall this letter, listening to secular arguments about the persecution of the church, attempted to religious freedom and the rights of the faithful, completely ignoring the spiritual and mystical side of this issue.
And the thought that neither saints nor martyrs could not take place under the laws of this civilization.
But Christ himself was condemned to be crucified in a democratic way...
Is not the years of persecution of the Christians who gave the world the greatest number of saints, the faith sealed with their blood and infirm have saved thousands of souls?
'My yoke and my burden is light...'
With your suffering to suffer
And accept the cross on your shoulders,
And the crown of thorns on your head!