Persecution of Christians during Communism. |
The
licensed official that Fr Anatolii got stuck with was highly dedicated,
aggressive, a true thorn in his side: he would constantly go out of his way to
play some dirty trick on priests. And so he established the following pattern:
as soon as a godly priest, assigned to a new parish, would settle in to his new
place and the parishioners would become comfortable with him, as soon as his
children would start attending school, as soon as he would finish remodeling
his porch or plant his vegetable garden, the official would immediately
transfer him to another village in the very opposite corner of the diocese.
Officially, he would complain that the priest was conducting antiSoviet
agitation in his church. But for such a serious accusation, claiming the
priest's participation in criminal activity, solid evidence was required. And
so from the beginning this official would drop by during the sermon, trying to
catch the priest saying something compromising, and then, as if he was himself
scared of something, he would send in his secret informants with the same aim.
Giving them instructions during one of his briefings, he uttered a phrase that
took on a life of its own: "You must listen carefully to everything around
you, but don't go into the actual church too often or for too long, or it will
suck you in!"
Believers standing in awe before communion. painting by Egor Zaitsev Nikolaevich |
Then
one day he got another idea: there were new epidemics constantly springing up
all over the country-whether of the flu, measles, or cholera. And so he
commissioned a local artist to make a descriptive poster depicting an obese
priest with a villainous, reddish-purple face standing with the chalice and
communing malnourished old women. And on the chalice he ordered the artist to
write: "flu epidemic" or "cholera epidemic." The old women,
walking away from the priest, all stumble and fall on top of each other dead.
The licensed official hung these posters all over the place-at the
train station, at the clinic, in his own office-and summoned Fr Anatolii to
him.
"There, Anatolii Vasilievich, have a look at that," he
spoke to him using the secular form of address of name and patronymic.
"There's a countrywide epidemic, and you're spreading the disease by
putting the same spoon in everyone's mouth. You can't do that. It's not
sanitary! I should forbid you to give communion at this time! I should alert
the Sanitary Epidemiological Services!"
"But we give communion for the healing of soul and body,"
Fr Anatolii began, but the licensed official repeated:
"Forbid it.!.."
Fr Anatolii looked at that vulgar scribble of a poster, sighed,
examined the miserable-looking figure of the licensed official and that rotten
little face of his, and said sympathetically:
"I think that way sometimes too-I have all sorts come to me
for communion. They have tuberculosis, cancer, hepatitis, who knows what else.
And when they've all communed, I consume whatever is left in the chalice. Then
I lick the spoon clean after them. And so all that-the tuberculosis bacilli,
the viruses, the infections-I guess they all end up inside me ... "
The
licensed official happily nodded his head:
"There
you go.!.. You are a spreader of infection.!.."
"All
of this is inside me,"mused Fr Anatolii, "and yet look at me.!.."
With
these words he drew himself up to his full height before the licensed official.
And what a figure-over six feet tall, his shoulders a full fathom wide, his
face smooth, tight, and rosy-the picture of health and beauty. Teeth straight
and white like sugar, and his hair-next to the bald licensed official-like a
magnificent mane, with large curls waving, and his eyes piercing bright like
two falcons ... In short, Fr Anatolii was a very handsome man! A noble warrior.!..
The
official representative looked and looked at him from the bottom up, and
completely lost heart.
Fr
Anatolii left him and busied himself with his affairs: service to God, his
flock, his children, his matushka ...
Half
a year later, the licensed official appeared at his doorstep, all yellow,
shriveled, dried up, like grass in the field. He looked at the blooming
priest-healthy and attractive-with dull eyes:
"Cancer,"
he said, "I've been diagnosed. Tumors. Bless me, Fr Anatolii, and then let
me have a little bit from that miraculous chalice of yours, out of which you
yourself commune. Only do it in secret. I'm a Party member. I shouldn't be
doing this."
"...let me have a little bit from that miraculous chalice..." |
Fr
Anatolii blessed him, and the licensed official became a secret Christian, like
Nicodemus from the Gospel. Similar to the official, he had been a member of the
Sanhedrin. Nicodemus also came to Jesus at night, and when the time came,
buried Him with his own hands, wrapping Him in linens soaked with
sweet-smelling oils: aloes and myrrh.
*A matushka is the wife of a priest or deacon in the Russian Orthodox Church.
Reference:
Ordinary Wonders: "The New Nicodemus". Stories of Unexpected Grace, by Olesia Nikolaeva.(2018)