Who would think that the opportunity to give could ever be taken away. The situation in the Soviet Union, as described below by an eyewitness, shows the attempt of the evil one to eliminate even the chance for doing good.
It seems that there is a certain unique quality among Russians which is reflected in their attitude towards fools-for-Christ, pilgrims and paupers, who used to be such a common sight around the churches and monasteries of Holy Russia. Throughout our history they existed in considerable numbers, forming a certain class, as it were, surrounded by its own special atmosphere. They were understood, supported, and given hospitality – this speaks not only the kindness and generosity of the Russian nature, but also of a heart deeply penetrated by the Christian commandments and the thirst of the Christian soul to give alms, to feed the hungry and shelter the homeless…
In the 19th century, the courtyard of every inn had a special corner reserved, every nobleman’s house – a wing, every peasant’s cottage – a place of refuge for the wandering pilgrims. Shod with bast sandles, a bundle hung over their shoulder, they made their way through the vast Russian countryside, from one holy place to another, travelling even as far as Mount Athos and the Holy Land. With what love Dostoevsky describes the pilgrim Makar in his Raw Youth; his pilgrimage lasted 20 years – and he neither froze nor died of hunger.
One could call this phenomenon of pre-revolutionary Russian life a disorder sent by Providence. It was not some shameful blot on society; rather, it reflected the society’s superior level of moral advancement.
There began, however, a new era in our history, post-revolutionary, and they began to bring in an order sent by evil. There was a forced effort to make everyone unified in thought, to create a homogeneous society; and, most importantly, to rid the heart of love for the unfortunates, the suffering, for “God’s people.” Under the new regime they are considered to be parasites, undesirables; they are gradually being eradicated from city streets, like some blight. Some are arrested for having no job, some for being vagabonds, others for “anti-Soviet agitation.” They are thrown into psychiatric “hospitals,” into labor camps. Even the Church is forbidden to extend them any charity. But they have left their mark on the Russian land, especially the fools-for-Christ, and they are not easily forgotten.
I myself remember seeing a woman in Moscow in the ‘60’s. She was dressed in black entirely bent over with a youthful face. On one arm hung a sack full of bricks; the other supported a crutch. At early dawn she would shout aloud, waving her crutch in the direction of some tall buildings: “Corpses! Dead men! They crawl into their burial vaults and think they’re alive! Ahead is the Dread Judgment, not a rosy future.” She spoke a lot, always something different, but always something meaningful, often about God. She disappeared in the pre-Olympic “clean-up.”
July 1979; Trinity-Sergius Monastery; the feast of the Kazan Icon of the Mother of God….Some militiamen were leading away a man who appeared to be a pilgrim wanderer; in his hands was a prayer rope. After them ran two women crying, “Why have you taken him? What for?…” A group of monks quietly passed by, the veils from their tall klobuks fluttering gracefully in the wind like wings. One would wish that they would interfere and put a stop to this ungodly show of force. It was obvious, however, that they were not the masters here….
The last time I was at the monastery was in the spring of ’83. Such tidiness! Not a single pauper. Suddenly I saw a group of people quietly standing around something low. I approached and saw a wooden box on wheels; in it was an old woman whose arms (and legs, it seemed) were but withered appendages. A woman in a black kerchief who was pushing the cart begged everyone: “Orthodox believers…the police are about to descend on us. Please leave!” The people began to put into the cart coins, ruble notes, apples, cookies…It’s a shame I came so late and overheard only the final words of the woman in the cart: “Two winters and two summers remain; and then understand as it is given to you…” The cart rolled away from the crowd into an inconspicuous corner.
But what struck me were the faces of the people. Such frightful words had just been uttered, and yet their faces were suffused with a mysterious joy. Only the eyes of those who suffer can radiate in that way…
(From an account received from the Soviet Union; “Possev,” July, 1984.)