In one of the many popular books about Optina Monastery that appeared
just before the Revolution, "On the Banks of God’s River", is a touching
description of a holy child, the five-year-old son of Fr. (Saint) Anatole’s
spiritual daughter. When pregnant with him she fervently prayed to her
beloved St. Sergius of Radonezh, promising to dedicate the child to him.
However, while attending St. Seraphim’s canonization in Sarov (1903),
she felt the child leap in her womb, and she began to wonder whether she
shouldn’t name the child Seraphim instead; but because of a dream she
named the child Sergius (Serezha) after all.
Five years later, “when
Vera and Serezha were leaving our monastery I went to see them off. At
that very time I saw that one of our most respected old monks, Father
Anatole, was coming out to meet us. We approached him and bowed down to take
his blessing. Serezha, putting his little hands forward, said, ‘Bless
me, Batushka.’ Instead, the old monk himself bowed down low to Serezha,
touching the ground with his hand, saying, ‘No, you first bless me.’ And
to our astonishment the child put his fingers into the proper position
and blessed the old monk with a priest’s blessing. What does the future
hold for this boy?” concluded the author.
And the answer to this question, as witnessed by Natalia Urusova, a third of a century later, comes from Holy Catacomb Russia:
She writes: “When my sons were arrested in 1937 and banished by the GPU for ten
years without right of correspondence, one can well imagine my sorrow. I
shed many, many bitter tears, but not even in a single fleeting thought
did I complain, but only sought consolation in church; and this could
only be in the Catacomb Church, which I sought out everywhere, and by
God’s mercy I always found it very quickly; and I poured out my grief to
the true God-pleasing priests who celebrated catacomb services.
And so
it was also when, after the arrest of my sons, I left Siberia for
Moscow. My sister — who to my horror recognized the Soviet Church — had
not been arrested, despite the fact that she had been a Lady-in-Waiting
to the Empress. She directed me to a childhood friend of ours with whom
she differed on church questions, since this friend was a fervent
participant in catacomb services. This woman and other members of this
holy catacomb Church greeted me with open arms.... I lived with my
sister periodically and visited all the services, which took place
in private houses in various parts of Moscow.
There was a certain Father
Anthony, an old hieromonk, who was our priest and spiritual father. I
constantly heard him say: ‘As the Starets (Geronda, Elder) commands, whatever the Starets
says,’ and the like. I asked Fr. Anthony where I might see this Starets
in order to pour out my grief to him and receive comfort. Whenever he
was mentioned it was with great reverence, and he was called an
extraordinary holy man. ‘No,’ Fr. Anthony said, ‘that’s out of the
question; I will tell him everything that you need from him.’
In 1941 I
became acquainted with a lady in Mozhaisk who had been banished from
Moscow because of the arrest of her husband and her only daughter. She
was also a member of the Catacomb Church and had been the spiritual
daughter of this Starets from the very first years of his priesthood.
She told me that the Starets (she didn’t give his name) was staying now
in a village two miles from Mozhaisk and that she secretly visited his
services. To my question whether she couldn’t ask him to receive me she
replied: ‘No, that isn’t possible; all the faithful have been denied
this, since the GPU has been looking for him for 25 years, and he
travels over the whole of Russia from one place to another, being
evidently informed by the Holy Spirit whenever it is necessary to go.’
Of course I was saddened at this, but there was nothing I could do about
it. The Feast of the Holy Trinity that year was on June 7. Just as
nothing in life is due to chance, so was it now: I could not go to
Moscow, and in sorrow I sat in my room alone on the eve of the Feast.
And then I heard a light tapping at my window; I looked and was
dumbfounded. An old nun was tapping, and she was dressed as a nun, in
spite of the fact that it was strictly forbidden to wear such garb. It
was towards evening. I opened the door and she came in to me with the
words, ‘The Starets, Father Seraphim, invites you to come to him early
tomorrow morning, and if you wish you can confess and receive the Holy
Mysteries.’ She showed me which road to take and told me to be careful.
Before the village itself there was a rye field already in full ear, and
she advised me to walk bent down. The back road through this field led
right up to the hut where the Starets was staying, and right opposite,
across the road, was the GPU station. One can imagine my feelings after
the nun, so affable with her radiant face, left. She was called Mother
N. There were two nuns with the Starets; the other one was called Mother
V. They were always with him. The Starets would stay peacefully at one
place for as long as two months or so, and then entirely unexpectedly,
at any hour of the day or night, would suddenly say: ‘Well, it’s time to
go!’ And he and the nuns would put on rucksacks, which contained all
the objects for church services, and immediately leave in any direction,
until the Starets would stop and enter some hut or other, evidently by
inspiration from Above.
“Early in the morning I set out, walking not on the street but, as had
been indicated to me, on the dirt road which led to the back door.
Before me was a wondrous monk, not at all old. I have no words to
describe his holy appearance; the feeling of reverence before him can’t
be communicated. I received confession and it was wonderful. After the
Divine service and my reception of the Holy Mysteries, he invited me to
eat with him. Besides myself there were the lady I mentioned above, the
two nuns, and another of his spiritual daughters who had come from
Moscow. Oh, the mercy of God! I shall never forget the discourse of
which he deemed me worthy, and which continued for several hours. Two
days after this spiritual happiness which I experienced while visiting
Father Seraphim, I found out from that lady that on the next day, while
they were sitting at table, Father Seraphim stood up and said to the
nuns: ‘Well, it’s time to go’ They instantly gathered themselves
together and left, and within half an hour, no more, the GPU came
looking for him; but the Lord had hidden him. Three months passed; the
Germans were already in Mozhaisk when, suddenly, there was again a light
tapping on the window, and the same Nun N. came in to me with the
words:
‘Father Seraphim is in the town of Borovsk (40 miles from Moscow), and
he sent me to give you his blessing; and he ordered me to reveal to you
that he is the very Serezha before whom Father Anatole bowed down!”