Stories from the life of Orthodox Christians. Orthodox stories for children

The abbot of the Dohiar monastery, Geronda Gregory (Zumis), has long been known outside the Holy Mountain. Truly longing to hear wise words elders travel from all over the world to attend conversations with Geronda, where, listening attentively to the fluent speech of the translator, they listen to stories about monastic exploits, about those suffering, oppressed and lost in passions.
Attention readers are invited to several fragments from the book of Geronda "People of the Church, whom I knew." The idea of ​​this essay grew out of such regular conversations. These are instructive stories about the feat of love, self-sacrifice, modesty and, most importantly, the desire to live according to the gospel. Geronda with great warmth describes her heroes - laymen and ascetic monks, who give us precious examples of a truly Christian life.

Contentment with little

The Apostle Paul writes about contentment with little things simply and concisely: Having food and clothing, we will be content with(1 Tim. 6:8). And the Lord tells us about the folly of the one who planned to destroy his old granaries in order to build larger ones, since his fields brought a rich harvest. Contentment with little feature monastic life from its beginning to the present day. I hope that the next two Athos stories will please the reader with the fact that this spiritual activity has not yet completely disappeared from the monks.

An old hermit, holding in his hands a glass vessel for oil with a broken spout, came to the kaliva of a monk of one of the sketes.

Abba, give me some vegetable oil. A month has passed since it ended, and greens without oil began to bother my stomach.

The hermit was shivering from the cold. Leaky clothes could not protect his withered body from strong wind that blows so often during the winter months. A skete monk has just received a woolen sweater in the mail. He carried it out to the hermit.

Here, take it: it is new, knitted from sheep's wool. Put it on or you'll freeze.

He put it on, took a bottle of oil and left satisfied. But here, after a few minutes, he returns, holding a sweater in his hand.

Ava, I won't need it. Give it to someone who needs it more.

About twenty days later, the hermit elder moved to a place of eternal rest, where he really no longer needs sweaters.

One Swiss, traveling around Athos, found himself at a kaliva, which differed little from the “bull kaliva” (as a bullpen is called on the Holy Mountain). He knocked softly on the door, and a faint voice from within invited him in. Entering, he saw an old man sitting on a wooden bed and sorting out a rosary. The guest took a look at the impoverished atmosphere of the kaliva and, finally, began to examine the old man, dressed in clothes made of coarse wool. Poor knowledge of the language made it difficult to talk to him, but even without words it was clear that the elder lived in poverty and contempt from people. He did not play with divine things in order to seem important to someone, and therefore remained unknown to anyone. The guest took out fifty dollars from his purse to give them to the old man.

No, I won't. Not so long ago, a man gave me twenty dollars, which will last me a long time.

Winter came, and the foreigner remembered the hermit's kaliva. He mailed him a hundred dollars for firewood and food. The elder, having received them, immediately sent them back, as someone had already sent him money. The foreigner sent them out again so that he would distribute them to the poor brethren. The elder returned them again with a request: “Here, distribute them yourself. It won't be good if I appear merciful at your expense."

In the summer, the Swiss converted to Orthodoxy and was baptized, having learned from the elder that “it is more blessed to give than to receive” and “do not take an obol unnecessarily.”

This story is like clear water in a mountain spring, the mere sight and murmur of which refreshes a person.

The people who taught me the holy life

From childhood I heard the words of St. John of the Ladder: “Monasticism is a constant compulsion of oneself.” And my late grandmother Zakharo often repeated the saying to me: "The working day begins at night." You will make a mistake if you put off today's work until tomorrow.

I began to marvel at the virtue of self-compulsion and fell in love with it before I actually knew it. And until now, I want to acquire it as it suits my character like nothing else.

Once I asked Elder Amphilochius:

How is a monk different from a layperson?

To this he answered me:

A monk is distinguished by his constant compulsion to himself.

After that, he spent the whole evening telling me about the monks who labored in self-compulsion.

Sight

With nostalgia, I remember one hill, which was named Matya after one person passing through it stopped and said: “From here you can look at the whole world with one glance!”.

I also often remember great artist and the restorer Anthony Glinos, who, having seen an icon of Christ painted in wax in the Sinai monastery, marveled at the skill of the icon painter for a long time, and then, looking into His eyes, exclaimed in amazement: “You can read everything in this look!”.

More and more I am convinced of the truth of the statement that the eyes speak and express thoughts even when the lips are closed and the voice is not heard. With just one glance, you can express to another person thoughts and thoughts, and what is spinning on the tongue, and even what lies deep in the heart. One humble confession will confirm the veracity of my words.

While waiting at the Annunciation Hospital for their turn for the procedure, one grandfather told me about the unforgettable look of his brother. On the small island of Sikinos lived married couple. Due to poverty, their daughter was forced to marry a troglodyte. He lived alone in the caves of the island, looking after a small herd of goats and sheep. He was rarely seen at home. Each time he came so tired that when they saw him, the children hid. Mother told them in vain: "Children, do not be afraid, this is your dad." The third birth was unsuccessful, and the mother and child died. The two older boys were left orphans. On the island, a childless English couple had their own home. The kids went there to get some food. Once the English said to the older boy, who seemed to them more intelligent: "We will take you to us, but only you will have to drive your brother out of the house."

I grabbed his arm, dragged him outside, lowered him down the stairs and slammed the door behind him. When I let go of his hand (it was the most terrible moment in my life), he raised his eyes to me, looked into mine and, as it were, said with this: “Who are you leaving me to?”. But then I hardened my heart and thought only of my own benefit. Since then, I always see this look in front of me, I think about it constantly, and it does not leave my heart. Every time I feel happy, he, like a tombstone, crushes my joy.

How was your brother's fate?

It's hard for me to talk about it. Even the house that we had from our mother was taken from us by our uncle, and my brother still lives in a cave without light and water. Only large worms keep him company during sleep and meals.

What are you, grandfather, are there still people who live in caves now? Can't anyone take him in?

Now, father, I brought him to Athens and take him to the doctors in order to at least a little extinguish the memory of that suffering look, but still I do not find peace. His gaze constantly burns my heart. Listen, father, always look a person in the eye in order to see and understand everything. If he is sad, then remove his grief from him, and if he is cheerful, then cover him so that he does not lose his joy.

…and another look

In the years when godlessness began to spread in Albania, on this territory of ancient Illyricum, its cunning ruler did not want it to look like his own initiative. He organized the so-called Movement, so that it would seem to everyone that godlessness comes from the people, and not from the authorities. After he intoxicated the people with the wine of renunciation of God, the people, out of their blindness, began to destroy all reminders of faith.

In one village, as Basil, a resident of Northern Epirus, told me, the school was next to the church. The teacher was a Greek.

“He taught us all day long how much better it would be if we had no religion, no Christ, no Church. He said that church prohibitions turn our lives into torture. His words were so convincing that one day we all broke into the church, began to remove the icons and threw them into the truck like unnecessary trash. We were brainwashed so well that we did not understand what we were doing. I myself removed the icon of Christ from the episcopal throne and threw it into the government truck. Everything happened so quickly, as if God Himself was leaving our country. The moment I stretched out my hands to remove the icon, my eyes met those of Christ. I felt reproach in His gaze, as if He were saying to me: “What have I done to you that you are driving Me away?”. But I thought: “Whether you like it or not, you will leave my life. The state ordered that even the memory of You should disappear in Albania.” Years passed, I had a family. When our daughter Evangelia was born, then, barely looking into her eyes, I said: “This look is familiar to me. Where did I see him? Where did you meet? I do not remember". Later, when it turned out that the Gospels were crippled by nature, I took her to a grandmother who treated her with herbs. And when she told me: “This is the wrath of God, it is incurable,” then I remembered the look of Christ on the icon in my village church and since then I have not found peace for myself. I am ashamed to meet my daughter’s reproachful eyes, I feel that she seems to be saying to me: “You, dad, once ate sour grapes, but the set teeth on my teeth remained forever.”

Here are some useful finds that a confessor sometimes comes across at confession.

On the scales the desert and the world. Whose cup will outweigh

A married couple lived in Athens: Phippas and Iota. They ate and drank from the table modern world always looked at this table and never raised their eyes to the height of heaven. They followed the motto: "If you enjoy earthly goods, then this is enough." They believed that thoughts about the future eternal life- consolation only for those who are deprived of pleasures in this world. They are like bread, which on long winter nights dreams of a hungry man wrapped in a coarse woolen blanket: the cold makes him dream of what he needs.

The happiness of the spouses became even more complete with the birth of a lovely girl, and they decided to give her everything.

The islands of the Aegean are offered to wealthy Greeks as an exceptional holiday destination during the summer months. For modern indifferent person on any of these islands there are only beaches and entertainment centers. He does not notice the road to the church, the ringing of bells before morning and evening is a hindrance for him, the priest in a black greasy cassock is a stain on the tourist image of the island; it would be better if this medieval monster did not exist at all.

Summer is a time not only for tourism, but also for harvesting. The reaper gathers wheat from the mountain slopes into a granary and rejoices in the fruits of his labors. But we must not forget that there is another reaper, invisible and unexpected. He invades our lives with his sickle and reaps not only the elderly, but also the young. This sickle ended the life of the only daughter of our heroes, and under such strange circumstances that even many years later what happened continued to disturb them. Arguments and searches for someone to blame became common between spouses; they became superstitious and began to gradually move away from each other. They tried to get closer to the Church, but their attempts to become churched were somehow wrong. In the end, the wife developed an aversion to her husband. She again wanted to have a child, but not from him. She filed for divorce and kicked him out, sending him to live with his old mother. However, left alone, she still continued to enjoy the material support of her abandoned husband. One hegumen asked her not to push her good husband to a third marriage (Phippas had a second marriage), because the ancients said: "The first marriage is joy, the second is indulgence, and the third is grief."

But she, accustomed to the fulfillment of all her desires, remained adamant. The confessor tried to find at least some way out and advised her:

Don't think only of yourself, think also of your husband. Be one family, even if only conditionally.

Will not work. I made friends with a man, by the way, a pious man, whom I liked. Now I'm pregnant with him.

Will you marry him?

No. I wanted a child - I got it, and married life is enough for me.

When Phippas heard about this, he was not angry: he continued to love her, and his concern for her did not decrease, although she went astray.

I feel sorry for her, father. I have to help her, because she has nothing to live on.

Five months have passed since the woman confessed her lawless pregnancy to her confessor, with whom she has not communicated since. Finally, she asked him to pray. He refused: "Prayer presupposes obedience."

Then she took advantage of the mediation of her abandoned husband, but the upset abbot refused this time as well.

Finally, one evening, the silence was broken. The grief-stricken husband announced to the confessor that their marriage was dissolved by the court, but he is saddened not so much by this as by his condition ex-wife: she was admitted to the hospital, and the danger threatens not only her life, but also the life of an unborn child. He wept with grief and feared for the life of his mother and child, but he was a stranger to him. He did not feel offended at all: honor and manhood were forgotten before the threat of death. He cried and begged for fervent prayer, but the elder did not seem to hear him: at that time he judged himself, weighed and found worthless. Outweighed the scales, on which was a divorced husband. And the old man, who until now held these scales, threw them on the ground, ashamed and ashamed. The mouth of the desert almost said, “She got what she deserved. it good example the righteous judgment of God,” but they were blocked by the sobs and tears of the world of gentleness and spiritual superiority. Here it would be appropriate to recall Sister Evgenia, who said: “Brethren, let us first acquire the virtues of the laity, and then we will start acquiring the monastic virtues.”

“The electricity bill has gone up again. It's been three weeks now hot water. Batteries in all rooms are barely warm for four years.
- Dear, this is all clear, but explain to me, be kind, what is your fault here?
- Stop, but I'm not saying that I'm to blame for something!
“Then why on earth would you, precious, come to me?” I deal only with those people who do not deny their guilt. After all, I am not the manager of a Soviet-era house, I am an archpriest.

Have you ever come across a sacrament called confession? The above is a real story told to me by an Orthodox priest. This plump man, whose every centimeter of his cassock radiates complacency, serves the cause of God in my native Dnieper region.

I can assure you, I would not write what you are reading now - no. The reason for this is an involuntary curiosity. Misunderstandings in confession are such because they never repeat themselves.

The cases when people come to the temple, as if to the Strasbourg court, have turned into a kind of regularity and do not resemble jokes, but a thorough sociological study.

What is confession?

This is hard labor. One of the recognized figures in this field once said: “Looking at myself in the mirror, I see in front of me a girl whom Chekhov described in his story “I want to sleep!” Year after year, decade after decade, I try to lull a naughty and capricious baby who, tossing and turning in bed, still does not fall asleep. And he will never sleep. You're sure of it, but still sing him a lullaby."

- Listen, father, our village has lost last school, for me, this is a big sin!
- Of course, but this sin is not on you, but on the state.
- You know what else. Since January of this year, they took and cut the subsidy. And the children's therapist, such a bastard, was transferred to the regional center, now I drive my granddaughter eighty kilometers away. Electric trains because of the "fucking" Korean squads they are idle - you have to get there in an old Ikarus, and this is about ten hours away. In addition, firewood has become more expensive.
- Well, I'm very sorry, but will we repent of our sins, or not?

For quite a long time I have been watching Ukraine, and the further, the more whimsical the lines of human claims look. To some extent, I was also lucky to find a time when a person could directly contact the local administration and hope, if not for a quick resolution of their difficulties, then at least for sympathy.

Believe it or not, even those in power regional centers did not hide behind the turnstiles and the security service - whoever needs it - come in, cry, complain, threaten. Naturally, the secretary would block the way to the most important thing with a breast of the fourth size, but it could be caught at least in the corridor.

Is something bothering you?

Great, write an official statement, get a response, no less official, notification. The answer is not to your liking - yes, for God's sake, there are a lot of ways to "sprinkle" an official message. Anywhere - to the regional administration, to Kyiv, to the Verkhovna Rada, to the administration of Mr. Poroshenko, to the "native" prosecutor's office, to the regional prosecutor's office, to the Prosecutor General's Office.

Only the Lord is not content with officialdom; a sincere request is enough for Him. Write anywhere, the result is always the same: your appeal will be “let down” to the local administration with obligatory indication figure everything out. But from now on, even in some urban settlement Dorofeevka at the entrance - "duty", as if in the district police department, as well as a turnstile that has set the teeth on edge.

And the head does not even appear on the porch: a back door, an alley and his own car with a pot-bellied driver are prepared for him.

By the way, about Dorofeevka. Once an official of the investigative committee, Vladimir Zubkov, and the investigators under his charge came there. The reception doors opened. You should have seen the people who came there with their complaints. A whole crowd gathered in front of the “duty room” and the turnstile.

I became an unwitting witness to what they were saying, and I felt sorry not so much for the so-called walkers, but for Zubkov's "trackers". Do you know why? Local, that is, "Dorofeevsky", there were about five to ten people.

But five hundred people from Western, Eastern and Central Ukraine came to this outback. There was even some "packed" uncle from the suburbs of Kyiv, who arrived in a "trump card" BMW. Someone missed their pensions, someone was "chopped off" their vital business, someone was imprisoned for nothing.

These people have gathered here for one reason - there are no resources left where they came from, and there is no faith even in Kyiv littered with papers. Here are normal and lively guys from the investigative committee. And suddenly they will take it and help out? Even if they don’t succeed, at least you can see something from people in their eyes.

In short, young investigators got the role of clergy, forced to bear the sins of their native state. Wiping the drops of sweat from their foreheads, they stoically listened to the visitors, even frankly crazy ones, offered them to leave all the necessary papers, and said something like a prayerful parting word: “Don’t worry like that, we will certainly figure everything out.”

By itself, most of these cases "safely" returned to where she "started", that is, local authorities the authorities "were lucky" to confine themselves to another replies. Tell me, what would you do in the place of these investigators? Would you feel like human rights defenders?

Destruction of hopes

I have been watching this ceremony of destroying hopes for twenty years now. And I happened to see this ritual so often that everything that happens resembles a banal plot when an electrician rapes a housewife.

After some time, such "electricians" appear in Ukraine, and their name is standing up for human rights, regional representatives of the president - all these people in suits for two thousand dollars organize receptions for ordinary people.

And these mere mortals are raped by men and women who come with their troubles and problems, and the guys and girls whom God has appointed to work as investigators are trying to change at least something, but to no avail, and they become one of those who once again did not justify the hopes of the population.

Now the "electricians" are the clergy. Only today they receive their appointment not from Heaven, but from the very bottom. Loaders, security guards, managers and all of them come to them. appearance says: "Who, if not you?"

However, God is not a regional administration. He descends our complaints and prayers below the local white houses - to where the current government lives, that is, to you and me. “What about our sins, will we repent, or will we wait?” I am sure that this is where the hot water supply begins, a normal therapist in a local clinic and really Railway for electric trains.

God bless you!

2016, . All rights reserved.

Have you lost your place? How did it happen son?

I think, mother, that this happened solely due to my negligence. I dusted in the store and dusted very hastily. At the same time, he hit several glasses, they fell and broke. The owner became very angry and said that he could no longer endure my wildness. I packed my things and left.

The mother was very concerned about this.

Don't worry mom, I'll find another job. But what should I say when they ask why I left the old one?

Always tell the truth, Jacob. You don't think to say anything else, do you?

No, I don't think so, but I thought to hide it. I'm afraid I'll hurt myself by telling the truth.

If a person does the right thing, then nothing can harm him, even if it seems so.

But it was harder for Jacob to find a job than he thought. He searched for a long time and finally seemed to find it. One young man in a beautiful new store was looking for a delivery boy. But in this store everything was so neat and clean that Jacob thought that he would not be accepted with such a recommendation. And Satan began to tempt him to hide the truth.

After all, this store was in a different area, far from the store where he worked, and no one here knew him. Why tell the truth? But he overcame this temptation and directly told the store owner why he left the previous owner.

I prefer to have decent young people around me - said the owner of the store good-naturedly - but I have heard that he who is aware of his mistakes, he leaves them. Maybe this misfortune will teach you to be more careful.

Yes, of course, master, I will try my best to be more careful,” Jacob said seriously.

Well, I like a boy who tells the truth, especially when she can hurt him ... Good afternoon, uncle, come in! - last words he spoke to the man who entered, and when Jacob turned around, he saw his former master.

Oh, - he said, seeing the boy, - do you want to take this boy as a messenger?

I haven't accepted it yet.

Take it completely calmly. Just be careful that he doesn't spill the liquid goods, and that the dry goods don't pile up all in one heap," he added, laughing. In all other respects you will find him quite reliable. But if you do not want, then I am ready to take him again with a trial period.

No, I'll take it, - said the young man.

Oh mom! Jacob said when he got home. - You're always right. I got this place there because I told the whole truth. What would happen if my former owner came in and I told a lie?

Truthfulness is always best, - answered the mother.

"The mouth of the truth abides forever" (Prov. 12:19)

Prayer of a boy disciple

A few years ago, in a large factory, there were many young workers, many of whom said they were converted. One fourteen-year-old boy, the son of a believing widow, belonged to the latter.

This teenager soon attracted the attention of the boss with his obedience and willingness to work. He always did his work to the satisfaction of his boss. He had to bring and carry mail, sweep work space and do a lot of small errands. Cleaning the offices was his first duty every morning.

Since the boy was accustomed to precision, he could always be found at exactly six o'clock in the morning already working.

But he had another wonderful habit: he always began his working day with prayer. When one morning, at six o'clock, the owner entered his study, he found the boy on his knees praying.

He quietly went out and waited outside the door until the boy came out. He apologized and said that he woke up late today, and there was no time for prayer, so here in the office, before the start of the working day, he knelt down and surrendered to the Lord for the whole day.

His mother taught him to always start the day with a prayer, so as not to spend this day without the blessing of God. He took advantage of the moment when no one else was there to be a little alone with his Lord and ask for His blessings for the day ahead.

Just as important is reading the Word of God. Don't miss it! Today you will be offered so many books, both good and bad!

Perhaps there are those among you who have a strong desire to read and know? But are all books good and useful? My Dear friends! Be careful when choosing books!

Luther always praised those who read christian books. Give preference to these books. But above all, read God's precious Word. Read with prayer, for it is more precious than gold and pure gold. It will strengthen you, keep you, and encourage you at all times. It's the Word of God that endures forever.

The philosopher Kant said of the Bible: "The Bible is a book whose content speaks of divine beginning. It tells the history of the world, the history of Divine Providence from the very beginning and even to eternity. The Bible was written for our salvation. It shows us in what relation we are with a righteous, merciful God, reveals to us the full magnitude of our guilt and the depth of our fall, and the height divine salvation. The Bible is my most precious treasure, without it I would perish. Live according to the Bible, then you will become citizens of the heavenly Fatherland!

Brotherhood and Compliance

Cold winds blew. Winter was coming.

Two little sisters were going to go to the store for bread. The eldest, Zoya, had an old shabby fur coat, the youngest, Galya, the parents bought a new, larger one, for growth.

The girls really liked the coat. They began to dress. Zoya put on her old fur coat, and the sleeves are short, the fur coat is tight for her. Then Galya says to her sister: "Zoya, put on my new coat, it's too big for me. You wear it for a year, and then I wear it, you also want to wear a new coat."

The girls exchanged coats and went to the store.

Little Galya fulfilled the commandment of Christ: "Yes, love one another, as I have loved you" (John 13:34).

She really wanted to put on a new fur coat, but she gave it to her sister. What tender love and pliability!

Is that how you kids treat each other? Are you ready to give up something pleasant for you, dear to your brothers and sisters? Or maybe vice versa? It is often heard among you: "This is mine, I will not give it back!"

Believe me, how many troubles arise when there is no compliance. How many disputes, quarrels, what bad character then it is produced for you. Is this the nature of Jesus Christ? It is written about Him that He grew up in love with God and man.

Is it possible to say about you that you are always compliant, gentle with your relatives, brothers and sisters, with friends and acquaintances?

Take an example from Jesus Christ and these two sisters - Zoya and Gali, who love each other with tenderness, for it is written:

"Be kind to one another with brotherly love" (Rom. 12:10)

forget-me-not

All of you children have probably seen in the summer in the grass a small blue flower called forget-me-not. Many interesting stories are told about this little flower; they say that angels, flying over the earth, drop blue flowers on it so that people do not forget about the sky. That is why these flowers are called forget-me-nots.

There is another legend about the forget-me-not: it was a long time ago, in the first days of creation. Paradise had just been created, and beautiful, fragrant flowers bloomed for the first time. The Lord Himself, passing through paradise, asked the flowers for their name, but one small blue flower, directing its golden heart to God in admiration and not thinking about anything but Him, forgot its name and became embarrassed. From shame, the tips of its petals blushed, and the Lord looked at him with a tender look and said: “Because you forgot yourself for My sake, I will not forget you. Call yourself forget-me-not and let people, looking at you, also learn to forget about themselves for me".

Of course, this story is a human fiction, but the truth in it is that forgetting about yourself for the sake of love for God and for your neighbor is a great happiness. This is what Christ taught us, and in this He was our example. Many people forget this and seek happiness away from God, but there are people who serve their neighbors with love all their lives.

All their talents, all abilities, all their means - everything they have, they use in the service of God and people, and, forgetting themselves, live in the world of God for others. They bring into life not quarrels, anger, destruction, but peace, joy, order. As the sun warms the earth with its rays, so they warm the hearts of people with their caress and love.

Christ showed us on the cross how to love while forgetting ourselves. Happy is he who gives his heart to Christ and follows His example.

Do you, children, not only want to remember the Risen Christ, His love for us, but, forgetting about yourself, show love to Him in the person of our neighbors, try to help with deed, word, prayer to everyone and everyone who needs help; try to think not about yourself, but about others, about how to be useful in your family. Let's try to support each other good deeds prayer. May God help us in this.

"Do not forget also doing good and sharing, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God" (Heb. 13:16)

Little artists

Once the children were given a task: imagining themselves as great artists, draw a picture from the life of Jesus Christ.

The task was completed: each of them mentally drew this or that landscape from Holy Scripture. One of them painted a picture of a boy enthusiastically giving Jesus everything he had - five loaves and two fish (John 6:9). Others talked about many other things.

But one boy said:

I can't paint one picture, but only two. Let me do it. He was allowed, and he began: "The raging sea. The boat in which Jesus is with the twelve disciples is flooded. The disciples are in despair. They are in danger of imminent death. A huge shaft is approaching from the side, ready to turn over and flood the boat without fail. I would draw some disciples others turned their faces to the advancing terrible wave of water. Others covered their faces in horror with their hands. But the face of Peter is clearly visible. He is in despair, horror, confusion. His hand is stretched out to Jesus.

Where is Jesus? At the stern of the boat, where the steering wheel is. Jesus is sleeping peacefully. The face was serene.

There would be nothing calm in the picture: everything would rage, foam in the spray. The boat would then rise to the crest of the wave, then sink into the abyss of waves.

Only Jesus would be calm. The excitement of the students was inexpressible. Peter in despair shouts through the noise of the waves: "Teacher, we are perishing, but You have no need!"

This is one picture. The second picture: "Dungeon. The Apostle Peter is chained with two chains, sleeping between the soldiers. Sixteen guards guard Peter. Peter's face is clearly visible. He sleeps calmly, although the already sharpened sword is prepared to cut off his head. He knew about it. His face reminds Whom -then".

Hang next to the first picture. Look at the face of Jesus. Peter's face is the same as his. They bear the seal of peace. Dungeon, guards, sentence to death - the same raging sea. A sharpened sword is the same formidable shaft, ready to end Peter's life. But on the face of the Apostle Peter there is no former horror and despair. He learned from Jesus. It is imperative to put these pictures together, - the boy continued, - and make one inscription above them: "For you must have the same feelings that were in Christ Jesus" (Phil.2:5).

One of the girls also spoke about two pictures. The first picture "Christ is being crucified: the disciples are standing in the distance. Grief, fear and horror are on their faces. Why? - They are crucifying Christ. He will die on the cross. They will never see Him again, they will never hear His gentle voice, they will never look again the good eyes of Jesus upon them... never again will He be with them."

That's what the students thought. But everyone who reads the Gospel will say: "Didn't Jesus say to them: 'Just a little while and the world will not see Me, but you will see Me, for I live, and you will live'" (John 14:19).

Did they remember at that moment what Jesus said about his resurrection after death? Yes, the disciples forgot this, and therefore, on their faces, in their hearts were fear, grief and horror.

And here is the second picture.

Jesus with his disciples on the Mount of Olives, after His Resurrection. Jesus ascends to His Father. Let's look at the faces of the students. What do we see on their faces? Peace, joy, hope. What happened to the students? Jesus is leaving them, they will never see Him on earth! And the students are happy! All this because the disciples remembered the words of Jesus: "I go to prepare a place for you. And when I have prepared a place for you, I will come again and take you to myself" (John 14:2-3).

Let's hang two pictures side by side and compare the faces of the students. In both pictures, Jesus is walking away from the disciples. So why are the students' faces different? Only because in the second picture the disciples remember the words of Jesus. The girl ended her story with the call: "Let us always remember the words of Jesus."

Tanya's answer

Once at school, in a lesson, the teacher was having a conversation with second-grade students. She told the children a lot and for a long time about the Earth and about distant stars; she also talked about flying spaceships with a person on board. At the same time, she said in conclusion: "Children! Our astronauts rose high above the earth, to a height of 300 km and flew in space for a long, long time, but they did not see God, because He does not exist!"

Then she turned to her student, a little girl who believed in God, and asked:

Tell me, Tanya, do you now believe that there is no God? The girl stood up and calmly replied:

I don't know if 300 km is a lot, but I know for sure that only "the pure in heart will see God" (Matthew 5:8).

Waiting for an answer

The young mother was dying. Having finished the procedure, the doctor and his assistant retired to the next room. Folding up his medical instrument, he, as if talking to himself, uttered in an undertone:

Well, that's it, we did everything we could.

The eldest daughter, one might say, still a child, stood not far away and heard this statement. Weeping, she turned to him:

Doctor, you said you did everything you could. But my mother didn't get better, and now she's dying! But we haven't tried everything yet," she continued. “We can turn to Almighty God. Let's pray and ask God to heal mom.

The unbelieving doctor, of course, did not follow this suggestion. The child fell on his knees in despair and cried out in prayer in his spiritual simplicity, as best he could:

Lord, I ask You to heal my mother; the doctor did everything he could, but You, Lord, the great and kind Physician, You can heal her. We need her so much, we can't do without her, dear Lord, heal her in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Some time has passed. The girl, as if in oblivion, remained on her knees, not moving and not getting up. Noticing the immobility of the child, the doctor turned to the assistant:

Remove the child, the girl is fainting.

I'm not in a swoon, Mr. Doctor, - the girl objected, - I'm waiting for an answer!

She lifted up her childish prayer in full faith and hope in God, and now remained on her knees, waiting for an answer from Him Who said: “Will not God protect His chosen ones who cry out to Him day and night, although He hesitates to defend them? I tell you that He will give their protection soon" (Luke 18:7-8). And whoever trusts in God, God will not leave him ashamed, but will certainly send help from above at the right hour and at the right time. right time. And in this difficult hour, God did not hesitate to answer - the mother's face changed, the patient calmed down, looked around her with a look full of peace and hope, and fell asleep.

After a few hours of restorative sleep, she awoke. Loving daughter immediately leaned over to her and asked:

Aren't you feeling better now, mommy?

Yes, my dear, - she answered - I'm better now.

I knew you'd get better, mom, because I was waiting for an answer to my prayer. And the Lord answered me that He would heal you.

The mother's health has been restored again, and today she is a living witness of God's power overcoming sickness and death, a witness of His love and faithfulness in hearing the prayers of believers.

Prayer is the breath of the soul,

Prayer is a light in the darkness of the night,

Prayer is the hope of the heart,

Brings peace to the sick soul.

God listens to such a prayer:

cordial, sincere, simple;

He hears it, accepts it

And the holy world pours into the soul.

baby's gift

"When you do alms, don't let your left hand know what your right hand is doing" (Matthew 6:3).

I want to give you something for pagan children! I opened the package and found ten coins inside.

Who gave you so much money? Dad?

No, - the kid answered, - neither dad knows, nor my left hand ...

How so?

Yes, you yourself preached this morning that it is necessary to give in such a way that the left hand does not know what the right hand is doing ... Therefore, I left hand I kept it in my pocket all the time.

Where do you get money from? I asked, unable to contain my laughter any longer.

I sold Minko, my dog, whom I loved very much ... - and at the memory of a friend, tears clouded the eyes of the baby.

When I spoke about this in the meeting, the Lord gave us a rich blessing."

Modesty

In one harsh and hungry time, there lived a kind rich man. He sympathized with the starving children.

One day he announced that every child who came to him at noon would receive a small loaf of bread.

Approximately 100 children of all ages attended. They all came at the appointed time. The servants brought out a large basket filled with loaves of bread. The children greedily pounced on the basket, pushing each other away and trying to grab the biggest roll.

Some thanked, others forgot to thank.

Standing aside, this kind person watched what was happening. His attention was drawn to a little girl standing to the side. As the last one, she got the smallest bun.

The next day he tried to put things in order, but this girl was again the last. He also noticed that many children immediately took a bite from their roll, while the little one carried it home.

The rich man decided to find out what kind of girl she was and who her parents were. It turned out that she was the daughter of poor people. She also had a little brother with whom she shared her bun.

The rich man ordered his baker to put a taler in the smallest bun.

The next day, the girl's mother came and brought the coin back. But the rich man said to her:

Your daughter behaved so well that I decided to reward her modesty. And henceforth, with every small roll you will receive a coin. May she be your support during this difficult time.

The woman thanked him from the bottom of her heart.

The children somehow found out about the rich man's generosity towards the baby, and now some of the boys tried to get the smallest roll without fail. One succeeded, and he immediately found a coin. But the rich man said to him:

With this I rewarded the little girl for always being the humblest and for always sharing the bun with her little brother. You are the most ill-mannered, and I have not yet heard words of gratitude from you. Now you won't get bread for a whole week.

This lesson went to the future not only for this boy, but for everyone else. Now no one forgot to say thank you.

The little girl stopped getting thaler in a bun, but the kind man continued to support her parents during the whole famine.

Sincerity

Sincere God gives good luck. Famous George Washington, the first president of the North American free states, surprised everyone from childhood with his fairness and sincerity. When he was six years old, his father gave him a small hatchet for his birthday, which George was very happy about. But, as is often the case with many boys, now every wooden object in his path had to experience his hatchet. One fine day, he showed his art on a young cherry in his father's garden. One blow was enough to forever make all hopes of her recovery in vain.

The next morning, the father noticed what had happened and determined from the tree that it was maliciously destroyed. He planted it himself, and therefore decided to conduct a thorough investigation to identify the attacker. He promised five gold coins to anyone who would help identify the destroyer of the tree. But everything was in vain: he could not even find a trace, so he was forced to go home dissatisfied.

On the way, he met little George with his hatchet in his hands. In an instant, the father came up with the idea that his son could also be a criminal.

George, do you know who cut down our beautiful cherry tree in the garden yesterday? - full of discontent, he turned to him.

The boy thought for a moment - there seemed to be a struggle going on in him - then frankly confessed:

Yes, dad, you know I can't lie, no, I can't. I did this with my hatchet.

Come into my arms, - exclaimed the father, - come to me. Your frankness is dearer to me than a cut down tree. You have already repaid me for it. It is commendable, frankly, even if you have done something shameful or wrong. Truth is dearer to me than a thousand cherries with silver leaves and golden fruits.

stole, deceived

Mom had to go away for a while. Leaving, she punished her children - Mashenka and Vanyusha:

Be obedient, don't go out, play well, and don't mess things up. I'll be back soon.

Masha, who was already ten years old, began to play with her doll, while Vanyusha, an active six-year-old kid, took up his blocks. He soon got tired of it, and he began to think about what to do now. His sister did not let him go outside, because his mother did not allow it. Then he decided to quietly take an apple from the pantry, to which his sister said:

Vanyusha, a neighbor through the window will see that you are carrying an apple from the pantry, and will tell your mother that you stole.

Then Vanyusha went to the kitchen, where there was a jar of honey. Here the neighbor could not see him. With great pleasure he ate a few spoonfuls of honey. Then he closed the jar again so that no one would notice that someone was feasting on it. Soon the mother returned home, gave the children a sandwich, then all three went to the forest to collect firewood. They did this almost every day to have a supply for the winter. The children loved these walks in the woods with their mother. On the way she used to tell them interesting stories. And this time she told them instructive story, but Vanyusha was surprisingly silent and did not, as usual, ask many questions, so that his mother even inquired with concern about his health. Vanyusha lied, saying that his stomach hurt. However, his conscience condemned him, because now he not only stole, but also deceived.

When they came to the forest, mother showed them a place where they could collect brushwood, and a tree to which they were to take it down. She herself went deep into the forest, where one could find larger dry branches. Suddenly a thunderstorm started. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled, but my mother was not around. The children hid from the rain under a wide spreading tree. Vanyusha was very tormented by his conscience. At every clap of thunder, it seemed to him that God was threatening him from heaven:

Stolen, deceived!

It was so terrible that he confessed to Mashenka what he had done, as well as his fear of God's punishment. His sister advised him to ask God for forgiveness and confess everything to his mother. Here Vanyusha knelt down in the grass wet from the rain, folded his hands and, looking at the sky, prayed:

Dear Savior. I stole and cheated. You know this because You know everything. I'm very regret about it. I beg you, forgive me. I won't steal or cheat anymore. Amen.

He got up from his knees. He felt so light in his heart - he was sure that God had forgiven his sins. When the worried mother returned, Vanyusha joyfully ran out to meet her and shouted:

Beloved Savior forgave me that I stole and deceived. Please forgive me and you.

Mom couldn't understand anything that was said. Then Mashenka told her everything that had happened. Of course, my mother also forgave him everything. For the first time, without her help, Vanyusha confessed everything to God and asked for His forgiveness. Meanwhile the storm subsided and the sun shone again. All three went home with bundles of brushwood. Mom again told them a story similar to Vanyushina, and memorized a short rhyme with the children: No matter what I do, God sees me from heaven.

Much later, when Vanyusha already had his own family, he told his children about this incident from his childhood, which made such an impression on him that he never stole or lied again.

Cry from the heart

Collection of Orthodox stories

Nadezhda Golubenkova

© Nadezhda Golubenkova, 2017

ISBN 978-5-4474-4914-8

Created with the intelligent publishing system Ridero

Foreword

Children's summer camp. A pocket edition of the "Gospel" published by "Gideon", handed out to everyone. It was with him that it all began, with this little blue, inconspicuous little book. Those were the bright days of a carefree, in the opinion of all adults, childhood. Or rather, adolescence, because I was then eleven or twelve years old. And yet I would not say that my childhood was carefree. And in general, was it? For as long as I can remember, I studied, studied, studied. And in those days of my stay at the Olimp children's health camp, I spent a lot of time not playing with the guys, but reading. And I read this particular Book, which fell into my hands quite by accident, but, as I understand now, in a very timely manner.

Dedicated to all readers with Christian love.

Two Nicholas

In one completely ordinary village family there were two sons, and both were called Nikolai. But not because their parents had no imagination. And it just so happened that the eldest was born on December 19 - on the winter day of memory of St. Nicholas the Wonderworker - and the youngest - on May 22, exactly in summer holiday saint. They were called so in the family: Nikola-summer and Nikola-winter.

To the sadness of the mother, there was no peace between the brothers. Each of them, on occasion, tried to prove that Nikolai Ugodnik, especially revered by all the Russian people, was only his saint. Over time, parents gave up on the constant quarrels of the boys.

And when the youngest was 11 years old, and the eldest - 13, his father got a job new job and the family moved to the city. Very close to them new apartment, two streets away, there was a huge and majestic Church of All Saints. When their mother brought them here for the first time, the brothers were amazed at the gilded decoration and high vaults of the temple: their village church was much more modest. And how many people could fit here!

However, there were few parishioners at the temple. Soon the boys and their mother already knew everyone by sight, with some they even became friends.

May has come. Smartly dressed in honor of the name day and birthday of the younger Nikolai, the brothers came to Divine Liturgy. And what do they see? The church is full of people! Here are all who wished Communion, the priest brought out a cross for kissing. Looking around his parishioners with a radiant look, Father Michael congratulated all the birthday people and ordered them to come up first. Mothers gave each Nicholas icons of the saint and brief prayers. Went for a gift and our summer Nikola.

- Why aren't you going? - pushed the mother of the eldest son.

“Look, how many people,” the amazed teenager nodded at the long line, at the end of which his brother was attached. - So there won't be enough icons for everyone. I'd better fit on my birthday. What do you think, then the priest will also give icons?

“I have no doubt,” the woman smiled, gently ruffling his hair.

For more than a month, Nikola-winter teased his younger brother, reminding him how many Nikolaev came on his birthday.

- I suppose the saint didn’t notice you in such a crowd, - almost bringing his brother to tears, he threw it somehow in the heat.

The seventh grader himself was sure that there would be few people on his holiday. Perhaps even he alone will approach the priest for the icon.

His name day came unnoticed. Real December frosts crackled outside the window. Father, as usual, went to work, and the boys and mother hurried to work. The eldest son froze at the entrance when he saw how many people were not afraid of the cold and came. Despite the fact that today was not Sunday, and indeed a normal working day, it was hard to breathe in the temple: it was difficult to bow to the waist.

The service ended, and the brothers and their mother remained standing behind the crowd approaching the cross.

“Oh, why aren’t you following your icon?” - the good-natured deacon, Father Andrei, approached them.

The older boy looked in confusion at the endless line, at the mothers who brought additional icons from the candle stall, and shook his head:

- And so it’s not enough, but I have an icon at home - godparents gave it.

“Go, go, the priest has a very special gift for you,” the deacon winked at the birthday boy.

Shy and regretting that he had once teased his brother, Nikola-zimny squeezed through the crowd to the thinning line of men. So he approached the priest, venerated the cross.

- Congratulations, Nikolai! And I already lost you.

And, having made a sign to one of the matushkas, Father Mikhail personally handed him a small icon. Glancing at her, the boy looked up incomprehensibly at the priest: the icon was not his patron, but two saints unknown to the teenager.

"Didn't he admit it?" - Father was genuinely surprised. – These are the holy Equal-to-the-Apostles brothers Cyril and Methodius.

Nicholas blushed slightly, but nodded.

“I wish you and your brother the same spiritual unity that was between the saints,” Father Michael continued. “You are the eldest, so from now on, never offend your younger brother, protect him, take care of him and, I am sure, he will repay you with even more love.

Since then, there have never been any more quarrels between the brothers.

The boy who wished to see other people's sins

In one big city there lived a family: a mother and her son Sasha. The boy's father abandoned them, and Sasha did not even remember him. Mom always said that dad was good, but he was afraid of responsibility when she told him about her pregnancy. Sasha was sure that he would never do that. But what can a boy who is only eight years old think about the future?

Not far from their house stood a beautiful little church. She didn’t have a bell tower, but from the windows of Sasha’s bedroom one could see her domes. Almost every Sunday, she and her mother went to this church: they lit candles for dad, confessed and took communion. There are few permanent parishioners, and Sasha knew them all not only by face, but also by name.

Once, when she and her mother were leaving the temple, Baba Nyura, an old woman from a neighboring yard, caught up with them. And she told them this story:

- You, Annushka, would pray at the new icon of the Savior that our father recently brought. Do you know what a miracle just happened? Svetlana, that she couldn’t bear it in any way, is expecting a baby. She says she prayed at the new icon, and a miracle happened. So you pray: your child, I suppose, feels bad without a folder.

- Thank you, Baba Nyura, but we somehow do it ourselves. Yes, we both got used to it.

- Pray, pray. The icon is miraculous, I tell you for sure.

Mom just shook her head, and the old woman's words sunk into Sasha's soul. And so, the next Sunday after the service, he approached the priest and awkwardly stopped, not knowing where to start. The priest noticed the boy and smiled warmly.

What are you thinking about, Sasha? Or are you waiting for your mom?

The boy involuntarily looked around, glancing at his mother, who was buying candles in the church shop. Today was more people than usual, and they did not have time to light the candles before the service.

“I wanted to ask,” the boy plucked up courage and said quietly.

- I'm listening to you carefully.

- Is it true that Baba Nyura told her mother: as if new icon can work miracles?

“You can check it yourself,” the priest answered, thinking a little. - Pray. Ask the Savior for what you want more than anything in the world. And if your words are from the heart, He will give you what you ask.

Sasha thanked the priest for the answer and went up to the icon of the Savior. What does he want more than anything in the world? New machine? A soccer ball like Romka's from next door? Or maybe just ask for a computer?

- I'm a sinner, father ...

Sasha broke away from his thoughts and looked at a woman in a white headscarf, whom he had not seen before in the temple. “But what does it look like, this sin?” - flashed through my head. No, he knew that fighting, not obeying his mother, doing homework through the sleeves is bad, sinful. He was told that sin is a disease, like invisible wounds on the soul. But he never had the imagination to imagine it.

I want to see sins. I want to see sins,” he whispered, looking at the Savior. Now he wanted it more than anything in the world.

But, alas, when the boy turned around, he did not see anything unusual in the woman who was talking with the priest. “Maybe it’s here, in the temple, after confession, no one has any sins left. And now we will go out into the street ... ". But there was nothing strange about the passers-by either. “It’s not right to know Baba Nyura, and there was no miracle,” Sasha thought annoyed.

As time went. Sasha skipped services more and more often: either he would go somewhere with friends in the morning, then he would sleep off after a nightclub, or he simply did not want to. Mom went alone, lit candles for both him and his father, praying that his son would come to his senses, and his “transitional age” would end as soon as possible.