Читать книгу Confession of a Ghost. F.M. Dostoevsky award. Playing Another Reality - Alexandra Kryuchkova - Страница 14

Taking the icons already acquired, I went to the pier at the Tower. The excursion ship used to depart for the foot of the Holy Mountain every morning at 10:30. It ran along the south-western coast, sheltered by neighboring isles and the peninsula Sithonia, only in good weather and only to the foot, since right beyond it, at the cape of the peninsula, there was an abyss with a sharp drop in depth of up to 1,000 meters. The other side of the Athos peninsula was almost always turbulent, so people travelled to pay their respects to the Holy Mountain from Ouranoupoli.

Traveling along the shore, you could admire the natural beauty, but there were many beautiful places on Earth, Mount Athos was unique. According to legend, the mountain was named after the titan Athos, who threw a stone at Poseidon, then the legend ended in two – according to one version, Athos the Titan died, according to another, Poseidon died.

In 48—49 AD, during a storm, the ship with the Virgin Mary and the Apostle John the Theologian came to the shores of Athos in the area of the Iviron monastery. The local pagan temples collapsed instantly, the inhabitants converted to Christianity, and the Virgin Mary asked the Creator to give that place to Her, because She liked it so much. Since then, Athos had been considered the Garden of the Virgin, and one of the most famous Athos icons was called the Athos Virgin Mary, or the Abbess of the Holy Mountain.

There were more than 200 cells, hermitages, as well as caves for ascetics, and 20 large monasteries on Athos. One of them was St. Panteleimon (aka Rossikon, or Russik), the Russian one, one Serbian and one Bulgarian, the rest were Greek. The first monastery, Great Lavra, was founded by St. Athanasius the Athonite in 963 on the south-eastern side of the peninsula, but back in 676, the Emperor Constantine transferred the entire peninsula to the eternal property of the monks, and the oldest temple was considered to be the Church of the Assumption of the Virgin not far from the capital of Athos, built in around 335.

The first monastery to appear from the south-western side of Athos was the Bulgarian Zograf with the unpainted icon of St. George, miraculously manifested on the icon board. After Zograf, there was the Greek monastery of the 10^th century Docheiariou with the “Quick to Hear” icon, and immediately after it there was Xenophontos with the relics of the Holy Martyrs Marina and Petka Paraskeva and not only.

Each monastery had its own shrines, as well as a library where printed books, ancient manuscripts and papyrus scrolls were stored. I mentally recalled the most famous Athos wonderworking icons of the Virgin Mary:

“Gatekeeper” (Iverskaya, or Portaitissa), painted by Saint Apostle Luke the Evangelist, in Iviron,

“Pantanassa” and “Sacrifice” in Vatopedi,

“Quick to Hear” in Docheiariou,

“Three-handed” and “Milk-Giver” in Hilandar,

“House-Builder” in Great Lavra,

“The Elder” in Pantokratoros,

“Axion Estin” in Karyes,

“Virgin Mary of Jerusalem” and “Virgin Mary of Athos” in Russik,

“Way-Finder” (Hodegetria) in Xenophontos,

“Virgin Mary of the Akathist” in Dionysiou…

Among the famous relics, kept on Mount Athos, there were the Belt of the Virgin Mary in Vatopedi, the head of St. Panteleimon and the foot of Andrew the First-Called in Russik, the relics of John the Baptist in Dionysiou, particles of the Life-giving Cross, the Gifts of the Magi, etc.

Orthodox Athos had its own rules. Sunset marked midnight, regardless of the clock time. The monks had to eat twice a day – in the morning and in the evening – after the liturgy. They practically didn’t sleep constantly praying for the whole world. Christmas in Ouranoupoli used to fall on December 25, and 5 kilometers away on Athos it was celebrated on January 7, because Athos lived according to the old (Julian) calendar with a difference of 13 days from the calendar of secular Greece, the fixed holidays were celebrated according to the old style. The Julian calendar, named after Julius Caesar, was created by Alexandrian astrologers based on the astronomical principles of Hellenistic Egypt, and introduced on January 01, 45 BC. In Old Russia, the calendar was called the “Circle making Peace/World”. I would call it the Matrix of the Space of Time. The Gregorian calendar (new style) was introduced by Pope Gregory XIII in 1582 in Catholic countries on the basis of astronomical recalculations made due to the shift of the vernal equinox, which determined the annual dates of Easter, and the mismatch of Easter full moons with astronomical ones. Then the Gregorian calendar was used almost everywhere. When I thought about the high level of astronomy knowledge back in Ancient Egypt and India, I heard the voice of Eternity, “The time of one’s life is a drop in the ocean, Alice, as is the one’s knowledge, in particular yours.”

We were sailing up to Russik, located almost on the shore. In 2016, the monastery was overflowing with pilgrims, celebrating the 1,000 anniversary of Russian monasticism on Mount Athos, and that time they were preparing for St. Panteleimon Day, on August 9, being temporarily closed for pilgrims. About 70 monks and novices were serving in Russik, and their library contained more than 20,000 books and manuscripts. Once upon a time, the glorified St. Silouan the Athonite, helping people attacked by laziness and idleness, lived there.

The next monastery, Xeropotamou, at a level of 200m above the sea, almost above the port of Dafni (or Daphne), possessed, among other relics, the largest part of the Life-giving Cross with a hole from a nail.

The main pier of Athos on that side of the peninsula, the port of Dafni, was a small jetty. Buses ran on Mount Athos, but, in my opinion, it was better to travel on foot, although easier to get lost. I heard amazing stories from pilgrims about old monks appearing out of nowhere to show the way, and immediately disappearing. To visit Mount Athos, men must obtain a visa (diamonitirion) in advance, since, and especially on holidays, monasteries might not accept pilgrims. Climbing the Holy Mountain, as a rule, started after the blessing by monks already on the territory of Athos. Janis said that more than once, at the foot of the Mountain, his groups had to linger for several days, because the monks didn’t give their blessing for the ascent. Oh, if I had been a man! I was an ordinary girl, and even the princess, on the way to Vatopedi in 422, had heard the voice of the Virgin, stopping her not to embarrass the monks. In 1045, Vladimir Monomakh issued a decree that women were not allowed on the territory of Athos, except for the Virgin Mary. There were no female animals on Athos, although some people specified the exceptions, such as chickens and cats, since chickens gave eggs used for tempera colors making needed for icon painting, and cats caught mice. The Athos locals said that a woman-journalist had decided to explore the Holy Mountain a few years before, but she went swimming and was eaten by a shark, which had never been found in the Athos waters. It’s interesting, the area of Ouranoupoli used to be called the Great Guard.

The choir of the cliff monastery Simonopetra, “Simeon’s rock”, considered to be the best by the Athos locals. When St. Simeon decided to found a monastery there, the monks resisted – the place was dangerous, and one of them fell into the abyss. Simeon got upset, prayed, and the monk who had fallen from the cliff suddenly returned alive and healthy. Closer to the Holy Mountain, there were the monasteries of Gregoriou and Dionysiou, in the latter the right hand of John the Baptist was kept.

Finally, I was looking at the Mountain, “Hello! What a blessing that You have allowed me to come back here to You!”

The Holy Mountain had an evident pyramid shape. Facing the boat with its concave side, it seemed to me a mirror – it allowed you to see yourself through its eyes. The Mountain scanned our thoughts and feelings, could change Space, Time and people. It resembled the Tibetan Kailash, although it was lower than Kailash – the height above sea level was 2,033 meters. The Mountain used to be covered with a wreath of clouds, even when the sky was cloudless, as a sign that the Virgin was on Athos. Clouds on the Mountain were unusual. Once I saw a wreath of faces of Saints and angels, and then the image of St. George the Victorious. I even managed to photograph St. George on his horse hitting the Dragon with the spear. After that he turned into an ordinary cloud and sailed away. At the top of the Mountain, the Cross was erected and a small temple of the Transfiguration was built. The mysterious 12 ascetic monks lived in the desert there, being invisible even to most Athonite monks. Or rather, one could see them if they allowed it. When one of the 12 ascetics passed into the Other World, one of the monks living on Athos was summoned and suddenly disappeared from his monastery or cell.

A boat with the shrines from St. Pavlou, the nearest monastery to the Mountain, docked to our ship. The monks placed the casket in the center of the joint tables on the lower deck. A queue lined up. People wondered what it was there.

“The Gifts of the Magi!”

I wrote the names in the memorial note, handed it over with the icons for blessing on the Gifts of the Magi to the monk, touched the shrines and put on them my cross, my ring and the wool rosary, woven by monks from the same monastery and purchased by me right on the ship. People came and went, while I stood next to the relics.

“God loves you,” the monk smiled, gave me his blessing and crossed me goodbye.

The monks returned to the monastery, and I stood on the deck and looked at the Mountain. Repeatedly in the history of the Holy Mountain, the monks faced various problems and wanted to leave the place, but the Virgin Mary appeared to them, providing miraculous help, and they stayed. According to legend, one day She would leave the Mountain forever, Her most famous icon, “Gatekeeper”, would disappear from Athos, the Holy Mountain would go under water, and the Apocalypse would come.

***

“Leah, have you found out the name of that icon?”

“Yes! Janis called to Athos, and the monks said, ‘Seeking for the Perished’.”

I froze for a moment, and then I took out of my bag the Akathist to the same icon. Leah raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“I read it on the border with Athos every evening, Leah! I went to church school and sang in the temple. There was an icon unknown to me, near which I stood during liturgies, when I was not singing on the solea. Many years passed, and a colleague at work said that the icon was called ‘Seeking for the Perished’. A few years later, in a book of an Orthodox priest, I read that it helps in critical situations, on the verge of death, or suicide, at the loss of hope and support, against drug addiction, they pray to her for the lost people and ones killed and died not by natural death, for children left without parents. Thus, I realized the icon was mine. I’ll take it from you. After all, I felt it at once, not recognizing, since this is not the Greek type, and not the one from my temple, but definitely it is ‘Seeking for the Perished’. There are special features of the image: the fingers of the Virgin are closed in a strange way, as if a wall surrounds you and doesn’t allow you to collapse into the abyss; Her hair is loose, and there is no headscarf on Her head, as if She had been an ordinary woman.”

Janis came up to us. I took out my book “Temple of the Heart” and handed it to him, but had no time to say anything, since his father appeared and, after saying hello, began to talk in Greek quickly.

“Father Gabriel from Athos is here passing through Ouranoupoli, let’s go to him!” Janis summed up to me. “You can take his blessing. We have known him for a long time. He is a very good person.”

In the next door house Janis introduced us to each other and added that Father Gabriel understood English perfectly, knew many foreign languages, including Arabic and Aramaic, and read ancient manuscripts and relicts in the original.

“What kind of book is it?” Father Gabriel asked me.

“I was just about to ask Janis to transfer, I mean to donate it to the Library of the St. Panteleimon Monastery on Athos.”

I handed the book to Father Gabriel, and he began to examine with interest the cover with the image of two elephants, sitting on a bench in the forest with their backs to the reader and admiring the starry sky, one small and one large. Father Gabriel smiled, stroking their tails.

“This is me, and next to me is my mother,” I smiled. “The book is called “Temple of the Heart”, it consists of three parts: 40 verses like a 40-days monks’ pray for my mother, poems of my church school period, and echoes of the church choir. The book is dedicated to my mother, Patriarch Alexey II and the famous Russian poet Alexander Blok, because he once wrote about a girl who sang in the church choir, almost about me.”

“The Patriarch? Why?” Father Gabriel asked with interest, slowly leafing through the book and trying to read the titles of the verses.

“There was no Cathedral of Christ the Savior in Moscow yet then, the Patriarch served in the church where I studied and sang.”

“Sign it to Hegumen Eulogious, the head of Rossikon. In a couple of days, we celebrate the feast of St. Panteleimon, and we’ll give him your gift!”

“Recently, Father Gabriel has been appointed Archimandrite of Vatopedi,” Janis smiled after returning to the shop. “He is young, but God is moving him upward, he has already served at the Exaltation with the Patriarch of Jerusalem, in Jerusalem. He wants to take me with him next year. I’ll send you video of their liturgy.”

“While you were away, the icon with Christ holding the globe, surrounded by the Zodiac Circle with planets, left,” Leah informed us.

“Saturn with rings and the Moon,” I remembered that icon.

“Do you believe that the planets influence our destinies?” Leah asked.

“Destinies are written in Heaven, and the Magi were led to Christ by a star,” I answered. “At the airport of Thessaloniki, they sold expensive hand-painted icons depicting the Signs of the Zodiac, and on the sealed certificate it was written that these were copies of fragments of the ancient wall painting of an Athos monastery. Have you seen them, by chance, Janis?”

“No, but it’s quite possible. Have you visited the Mount today? What Athos’ shrines were brought by monks?”

“The Gifts of the Magi.”

Somewhere in the Mist

“Lon-Don, Lon-Don…”

I am very tired. It’s constantly raining there, and the Mist is spreading, swallowing everything and everyone. And me, it will swallow me too.

“Lon-Don, Lon-Don…”

The bell is ringing inside me, and we are sitting on a bench by the Thames with Sergey Dobronravov in silence. He is just as silent as me. He seems to be a writer. I’m very tired and I don’t even remember how we got there. Gloomy clouds are crawling through the bare and jails bars-like branches of trees.

“Lon-Don, Lon-Don…”

A man appears from the Mist. I’m scared to meet him. Why? I fall into the Mist, where we are standing with Sergey on the zero meridian in Greenwich, and I tell him, “Everything will change! Life starts from scratch here!” And we climb the Royal Observatory Tower, but out of the Mist – damn it! – the man reappears —

“Lon-Don, Lon-Don…”

I don’t see his face, but he laughs, maliciously, caustically, and I’m scared again. Signboards, signboards, lots of tables with books. I want to run away from there, away, into the Mist! My consciousness begins to split into atoms. I don’t want to think or to remember anything anymore – away! all these atoms —

“Lon-Don, Lon-Don…” —

I see them from the side, they are losing their interconnections and, like soap bubbles of different diameters, scatter away —

“Lon-Don, Lon-Don…” —

and burst, burst, burst, and with them invisible rays as access to the sector where my earthly memory is stored – fragment by fragment – go out one after another —

“Lon-Don, Lon-Don…”

It sounds quieter and quieter, and I feel calmer, I’ll soon remember nothing – that means I will become free, and nothing will hold me there any longer… nothing…

“Alice!” a sharp voice was suddenly heard. Ray appeared right in front of me, “Where were you at sea? Come on!”

I shook my head negatively, “I don’t remember.”

“Where did you feel good? Remember now! Quickly!”

I couldn’t resist him. He was stronger than me. And all those atoms started coming back to me, like in a movie rewind, and I…

Ouranoupoli

…I woke up on Athos. It was night outside the window. I went out onto the balcony, looked at the brightest yellow star and heard the phone ring.

“Ray,” I said in a tired voice, “I don’t understand how you can call me.”

“I don’t understand how you still don’t understand that I don’t call you,” he says calmly, but I was too weak to solve his riddles.

“What is happening to me? You know everything there. I’ve hardly dreamed before. And here, this is the third night in a row…”

“Go to the Tower.”

“In Ouranoupoli? It’s been closed for many years.”

“It’s open. From 9:00 to 16:00. Every day except Monday. Get up in the morning and go to the Tower without visiting any of your acquaintances along the way,” Ray said, and the connection broke off.