Great Lent
in the Stories
of Vasily Nikiforov-Volgin

The feast1According to the Orthodox Christian calendar, a "feast" is a holy day commemorating a major event in the life of Christ, the Virgin Mary, or a saint. The story lists a series of these feasts that occur in the weeks leading up to Lent, marking the passage of time toward a major season of fasting. of St. Euphemia the Great had passed all in a blizzard2St. Euphemia the Great was a 4th-century Christian martyr. The line reflects a folk belief that the weather on this saint's day predicts the weather for the following year's Maslenitsa festival. — so the sovereign Lady Maslenitsa3Maslenitsa, also known as "Cheesefare Week," is the Russian folk and religious festival preceding Great Lent. For seven days, people enjoy foods like pancakes ("blini"), say farewell to winter, and engage in various festivities. It culminates on "Forgiveness Sunday" before the strict Lenten fast begins. In Russian folk tradition, Maslenitsa is often personified as a female figure — "Lady Maslenitsa." will have blizzards as well! The feast passed for the Apostle Timothy, at the midpoint of winter. Afterwards came the Three Holy Hierarchs4The Three Holy Hierarchs are three foundational saints and theologians of the Eastern Orthodox Church: Basil the Great, Gregory the Theologian, and John Chrysostom. Their shared feast day is in the midst of winter., then St. Nikita, Bishop of Novgorod — deliverer from fire and all conflagration.5St. Nikita was a 12th-century Russian saint and bishop of the city of Novgorod. He is venerated as a wonderworker, and considered to be a protector against fires. The wax candles from the Meeting of the Lord have burned down — at this feast there were fierce frosts too.6The Meeting of the Lord (Candlemas) commemorates the infant Jesus being presented to God in the Temple, 40 days after his birth. On this feast, the faithful bring candles to be blessed — these "Meeting Candles" are taken home and lit during prayer or times of trouble, symbolizing Christ as the "Light of the World." Now the feasts have also passed for Simeon the God-Receiver7Simeon the God-Receiver was a righteous elder in Jerusalem who, according to the Gospel of Luke, was promised by the Holy Spirit that he would not die until he saw the Messiah. He met the infant Jesus at the Temple and uttered the prayer now known as the Canticle of Simeon. and Anna the Prophetess.8Anna the Prophetess was a devout widow of advanced age, also present during the Presentation of Jesus in the Temple. She is described in the Gospel of Luke as a prophetess who recognized the infant Jesus as the Messiah.

Snow continues to drift up to the very tops of the windows. The frost is metallic, hard as copper, at night the blizzard howls, yet the heart is glad — half the winter is past. The days are growing brighter! In dreams, one already sees grass and birch catkins.9Birch catkins are the long, soft, tassel-like flower clusters of birch trees. In Russia, their appearance is a classic and beloved early sign of spring. The heart is like a bird, ready for flight.

In the fierce frost, I announced to Grishka:10"Grishka" is a familiar, diminutive form of the Russian name "Grigory." It signals an informal and close relationship — like knowing a boy named Gregory and calling him Greg.

"Spring is coming!"

And he replied to me:

"I ought to box your ears for such words! What kind of spring is this, if birds freeze in flight!"

"These are the last frosts," I assured him, blowing on my frozen fingers, "the wind is already blowing more cheerfully, and the ice on the river howls at night… That means we're headed towards spring!"11As temperatures fluctuate near freezing, the thick river ice expands and contracts, creating loud, eerie groans and cracks. This sound signifies that the solid winter cover is beginning to break internally, heralding the coming ice drift.

Grishka doesn't want to believe it, but by his eyes I see that he too is gladdened by talk of spring.

The beggar Yakov Grib was drinking tea with us. Blowing on his saucer, he said in a downcast voice:

"Time runs… runs… Tomorrow begins the Week of the Publican and the Pharisee.12The Week of the Publican and the Pharisee is the first of four special preparatory Sundays before Great Lent in the Orthodox Church. The Gospel reading contrasts a self-righteous Pharisee with a repentant tax collector (Publican). Its purpose is to teach humility as the correct spiritual attitude for entering the Lenten season. Prepare for Great Lent13Great Lent is the most important and strict fasting period in the Orthodox Church, a 40-day season of spiritual preparation for Pascha (Easter). It involves intensified prayer, repentance, fasting from animal products, and almsgiving. — radishes and horseradishes, and the Prayer of St. Ephraim."14The Prayer of St. Ephraim is a short, essential Lenten prayer of repentance attributed to St. Ephraim the Syrian (4th century). It is recited repeatedly during weekday Lenten services and private prayers, asking God to remove key spiritual faults and to grant fundamental virtues.

Everyone sighed, but I rejoiced. Great Lent is spring, streams, rooster cries, yellow sun on white churches, and ice breaking up on the river. At the All-Night Vigil,15The All-Night Vigil is the main Saturday evening service in the Orthodox Christian tradition. It is a composite service of Vespers, Matins, and various prayers, known for its solemn beauty and central role on feast days and during Lent. after the Gospel was brought out to the center of the church,16This is a solemn moment in the Orthodox All-Night Vigil, when the priest or deacon carries the Gospel book from the altar into the nave, placing it on a stand in the midst of all the people. This symbolizes Christ coming to teach among his people. for the first time they sang the penitential prayer:

"Open unto me the doors of repentance, O Giver of life, for my spirit waketh at dawn unto Thy holy temple."17"Open unto me the doors of repentance…" is the opening line of the Great Lenten Prayer of Repentance, sung at Sunday services starting three weeks before Great Lent. Its first appearance marks the beginning of the Lenten liturgical cycle.

From the Week of the Publican onward, preparation for Great Lent began in the house. Before the icons,18Icons are sacred painted images of Christ, the Virgin Mary, saints, or biblical events. They are venerated as windows to the heavenly realm, and are used by Orthodox Christians for prayer and contemplation. the lampada19A lampada is an oil lamp with a glass container, lit before icons in Orthodox Christian homes and churches. was lit, and it would now remain unquenchable. Before dinner and supper, they performed prostrations20Prostrations entail a full bow to the floor during prayer — the worshipper kneels, places their hands on the floor, and touches their forehead to the ground. This profound physical act signifies humility, repentance, and reverence, especially used during Lent. during prayer. Mother became stricter and as if withdrawing from the earth. Before the arrival of Great Lent, I hurried to take from winter all its graces: I rode on sleds, wallowed in snowdrifts, knocked down icicles with a stick, stood on the footboards of cabmen's sleighs, sucked on ice chips, slid down into ravines and listened to the snow.

Another week arrived. It was called in church terms — the Week of the Prodigal Son. At the All-Night Vigil they sang an even more sorrowful song than 'Repentance' — 'By the rivers of Babylon.'

On Sunday, Yakov Grib came to warm himself by us. Sitting down by the stove, he began to sing the ancient verse, 'The Lament of Adam':

"My paradise, my paradise,
My most radiant paradise,
For my sake created,
For Eve's sake closed."

This verse made father start talking. He began to recall the great Russian roads, along which walked blind elders with guides. They were called God's Singers.21God's Singers were wandering blind mendicants and spiritual minstrels in pre-revolutionary Russia. Often guided by a boy, they traveled between villages and towns, singing penitential folk verses about scripture, saints, death, and judgment. They were a living part of folk Orthodoxy, accepted as holy figures. On their staffs were depicted a dove, a six-pointed cross, and on some, a snake. They would stop, it used to be, before the windows of an izba22An izba was a traditional Russian peasant house, typically made of logs — a common rural dwelling, often comprising a single large room with a massive stove for heating and cooking. and sing of the mortal hour, of the last trumpet of the Archangel, of Josaphat the Prince, of withdrawal into the desert.

"I too once sang at fairs!" responded Yakov, "until I drank away my voice. It's a profitable and comforting business. The Russian folk, for the eloquence of words, will take the baptismal cross from off themselves! They'll forget all business. They'd bow their heads, you see, and listen, and the tears just roll down their faces! Yes, we cannot be without God, even if you're the most thoroughbred rogue and convict!"

"Times are not the same now," mother sighed, "the traditional songs have faded away! Now they're singing factory songs23Factory songs were a form of folklore from the early 20th century (the period of industrialization), losing the ceremonial character of the older tradition. The texts reflected the difficulties of factory life. and gramophone songs!"24The gramophone was an early 20th-century device for playing music from disc records. In this context, it symbolizes new, mass-produced, secular entertainment, contrasting with the older tradition of spiritual folk singing.

The Week of the Last Judgment arrived.25The Week of the Last Judgment (Meatfare Sunday) culminates on the Sunday before Great Lent in the Orthodox Church. The Gospel reading is about the Last Judgment (Matthew 25:31-46). It marks the last day meat is permitted before the strict Lenten fast. On the eve, they commemorated departed relatives in church.26This refers to the Saturday of Meatfare — one of several designated Memorial Saturdays in the Orthodox calendar. Special services are held to pray for the salvation of all the departed. At home, they prepared kutia27Kutia (кутья) is a ritual dish of boiled wheat sweetened with honey, served to commemorate the dead and as a symbol of resurrection. The Greek Orthodox counterpart, with identical religious symbolism, is called koliva (κόλλυβα). from grains — as a sign of faith in the resurrection from the dead. On this day the church commemorated all "from Adam to this day departed in piety and faith" and offered special prayers for those "who drowned, who perished from war, fire and earthquake, killed by murderers, consumed by lightning, slain by beasts and serpents, frozen by frost…" and for those "who died by the sword, who were thrown off a horse, crushed by a landslide, buried in the earth, who were killed by poison or hanging…"

Maslenitsa arrived in a light snow flurry. People smelled of pancakes.28During Maslenitsa, a food called blini (thin, buttery pancakes) are cooked in massive quantities in almost every household. The smell of frying batter, butter, and oil permeates clothes, homes, and streets, becoming the universal scent of the holiday. Mother baked pancakes with prayer.29The preparation of festive food was not merely culinary but a pious act. Prayers were said while mixing the batter and baking, dedicating the meal to God and infusing the celebration with spiritual intention. The first baked pancake she placed on the dormer window in memory of her deceased parents.30This was a widespread Russian folk tradition. The first blin (pancake) of Maslenitsa was considered a commemorative offering for the dead. Placing it on a dormer window — a liminal space between the home and the outside world — was a symbolic act of sharing the festive meal with departed ancestors.

Mother told much about the village Maslenitsa, and I greatly regretted why my parents had taken it into their heads to move to the city. Everything was different there. In the village, Maslenitsa Monday was called "the Greeting"; Tuesday — "Playtime"; Wednesday — "Gourmand"; Thursday — "Fracture"31Thursday was called "Fracture" because it divided the week exactly in half and began a period of unrestrained fun. It was also believed that from this day on, winter "breaks down" and spring comes into its own.; Friday — "Mother-in-Law's Evenings"; Saturday — "Sister-in-Law's Gatherings"; Sunday — "Farewell and Forgiveness Day."32Maslenitsa had a ritualized daily structure in village life, each day with specific social and family customs: visiting, courtship games, feasting, and culminating in mutual forgiveness before Lent. Their songs were woven from stars, from sunbeams, from the golden horns of the moon, from snow, and from the tassels of rye.

Forgiveness Sunday arrived.33Forgiveness Sunday is the last day before Great Lent in the Orthodox Church, following Maslenitsa. It is marked by the Rite of Mutual Forgiveness, where believers ask and grant forgiveness from one another to begin Lent with a clear heart. During the day, they went to the cemetery to bid farewell to deceased relatives. In church, after Vespers, the priest bowed to the people at their feet and asked forgiveness. Before retiring to sleep, they bowed to the ground to each other, embraced, and said: "Forgive me, for Christ's sake," and to this each one answered: "God forgives."

I dreamed of the coming Great Lent, for some reason in the image of St. Sergius of Radonezh, walking on snow and leaning on an abbot's black staff.34St. Sergius of Radonezh is a revered 14th-century Russian saint and monastic founder, symbolizing asceticism, humility, and spiritual strength. Dreaming of him walking through snow with an abbot's staff transforms the coming Great Lent into a personified, holy journey — a pilgrimage of the soul through a purifying landscape.

A rare Lenten chime shatters the sun-drenched morning, bound by frost, and it seems to scatter into fine snow crystals with each peal of the bells. The snow creaks underfoot like the new boots I wear on holidays.

Clean Monday.1Clean Monday is the first day of Lent in the Eastern Orthodox Christian tradition. It is a day of strict fasting and spiritual purification, symbolizing a clean break from the indulgent foods and activities of the pre-Lenten season. My mother sent me to church for the "Lenten Hours"2The Lenten Hours are a special, longer form of the daytime prayer services used in the Eastern Orthodox Church on weekdays during Lent. They include the reading of psalms and a hymn, all intended to help the faithful focus on repentance. and said with quiet sternness: "Fasting and prayer open the heavens!"

I walk through the market. It smells of Lent:3The foods listed — radishes, cabbage, pickles, and mushrooms — are staples of the Orthodox Lenten fasting discipline. During Great Lent, believers abstain from all meat, eggs, and dairy, making meals from plant-based foods. The "smells of Lent" thus evoke this season of strict dietary abstinence. radishes, cabbage, pickles, dried mushrooms, bagels, smelt,4The small lake fish known as smelt was very popular near St. Petersburg, and by the shores of Lake Pskov and Lake Chudskoye. It was often sold dried and purchased during Lent in anticipation of the upcoming holidays of the Annunciation and Palm Sunday, when fish was allowed. Lenten sugar…5In early 20th-century Russia, white sugar was commonly refined using bone char — a filter made from animal bones. Because Orthodox fasting rules require abstaining from all animal products, "Lenten sugar" was produced without bone char, resulting in a slightly less white product that devout observers could safely use during Lent. Many birch brooms have been brought in from the villages (there was a bathhouse on Clean Monday). The traders aren't swearing or joking6The Russian word translated here as "joking" is zuboskalyat (зубоскалят), which literally means "to show one's teeth" while grinning or laughing. Such demonstrative gaiety was considered undignified and improper for Orthodox Christians, particularly during the somber season of Great Lent. or running to the tavern for shots; they speak to customers quietly and delicately: "Monastery mushrooms!" "Little brooms for the banya!"7These "little brooms" are dried birch branches tied into bundles and used in the Russian bathhouse (banya) to gently whip the skin during steaming. The practice is said to improve circulation and open the pores for cleansing. "Little pickles from Pechory!"8Pechory is a town in northwestern Russia, best known as the site of the Holy Dormition Pskov-Caves Monastery, one of the few in Russia that never closed during the Soviet era. It is the same monastery featured in the bestselling book Everyday Saints and Other Stories by Archimandrite Tikhon (Shevkunov). "Little smelt from Lake Chudskoye!"

From the frost, blue smoke hangs over the market. I saw a willow twig in the hand of a passing boy, and a shivery joy seized my heart: soon it will be spring, soon it will be Easter, and only streams will remain of the frost!

It's cool and bluish in the church, like a snowy morning forest. The priest came out of the altar in a black epitrachelion9An epitrachelion is the long, embroidered stole worn by an Eastern Orthodox priest when celebrating services. It is an essential part of his liturgical vestment. The black color signifies a penitential season — most notably Great Lent — as black vestments symbolize mourning for sin. and spoke words I had never heard before: "O Lord, Who at the third hour didst send down Thy Holy Spirit upon Thine apostles… Take Him not from us, O Good One, but renew Him in us who pray unto Thee…"10This traditional Orthodox prayer recalls a biblical event described in Acts 2:1–4, when the Holy Spirit descended upon the apostles at the "third hour" (9:00 AM).

Everyone knelt, and the faces of the worshippers were like those standing before the Lord in the painting, "The Last Judgment." And even the merchant Babkin, who beat his wife into her grave and never extends credit to anyone, his lips tremble in prayer and tears are in his bulging eyes. Near the crucifix stands the official Ostryakov, also crossing himself, though during Maslenitsa11Maslenitsa is a festive, carnival-like week of communal feasting before the austere 40-day fast of Lent. Its atmosphere of indulgence stands in sharp contrast to the somber repentance of Clean Monday, which immediately follows it. he had boasted to my father that, being educated, he had no right to believe in God. Everyone prays, and only the church warden12A church warden is a layperson elected by a parish to assist with the management of church property, finances, and practical affairs. The warden's mundane task of counting coins at the candle stand during a solemn Lenten service highlights his detachment from the spiritual repentance taking place around him. jingles coppers at the candle counter.

Outside the windows, trees, pink from the sun, are dusted with snow powder.

After the long service, you walk home and listen to the whisper within yourself: "Renew us who pray unto Thee…" "Grant me to see my own transgressions and not to judge my brother…"13This is a line from the Prayer of St. Ephraim, a Lenten prayer attributed to the fourth-century saint and repeated frequently throughout Lent. The full prayer asks God to grant the virtues of purity, humility, and patience, while also pleading for the ability to recognize one's own faults rather than condemning others.

And all around is the sun. It has already consumed the morning frosts. The street rings with icicles falling from the roofs.

The dinner that day was unusual: radishes, mushroom soup, buckwheat porridge without butter, and apple tea. Before sitting down at the table, we crossed ourselves for a long time before the icons. A poor old man, Yakov, dined with us, and he recounted: "In the monasteries, according to the rules of the holy fathers,14The "holy fathers" (or Church Fathers) were influential early Christian theologians and teachers whose writings form a foundational authority for Orthodox doctrine and practice. Their "rules" refer to the body of canonical legislation and ascetical instructions that established the normative pattern for fasting, prayer, and spiritual discipline. for Great Lent, dry eating15"Dry eating" (from the Greek xerophagy, meaning "dry food") is the strictest level of fasting in the Eastern Orthodox tradition. It refers to meals consisting only of uncooked foods, such as bread, raw or dried fruits and vegetables, nuts, and water. No cooked food whatsoever is permitted on such days. is prescribed: bread and water… But Saint Hermas and his disciples ate food once a day and only in the evening…"

I pondered Yakov's words and stopped eating.

"Why aren't you eating?" asked my mother.

I frowned and answered in a bass voice, from under my brows: "I want to be Saint Hermas!" Everyone smiled, and Grandfather Yakov patted me on the head and said: "My, what a receptive one you are!"

The Lenten soup smelled so good that I couldn't restrain myself and began to eat; I slurped it all up and asked for another bowl, and a thicker one.

Evening came. The dusk swayed with the ringing for Great Compline.16Great Compline is a penitential evening prayer service in the Eastern Orthodox tradition, celebrated on weeknights during Lent. It is characterized by its somber tone, frequent prostrations, and the reading of penitential psalms and canons. Our whole family went to the reading of the Canon of St. Andrew of Crete.17The Canon of St. Andrew of Crete is a lengthy, penitential hymn composed in the seventh century by St. Andrew, Archbishop of Crete. It is the longest canon in Orthodox liturgical tradition, containing over 250 stanzas. Structured as a dialogue between the repentant soul and God, it weaves together hundreds of references from both the Old and New Testaments. The repeated refrain, "Have mercy on me, O God, have mercy on me," echoes the prayer of the Publican. The church is semi-dark. In the center stands a lectern in a black cloth, and on it is a large, old book. There are many worshippers, but they are almost inaudible, and everyone resembles quiet little trees in an evening garden. In the dim lighting, the faces of the saints became deeper and more severe.

The priest approached the lectern, lit a candle, and began to read the Great Canon of St. Andrew of Crete: "Where shall I begin to lament the deeds of my wretched life? What foundation shall I lay, O Christ, for this present lamentation? But as one compassionate, grant me forgiveness of transgressions."

After each verse read, the choir echoes the priest: "Have mercy on me, O God, have mercy on me."

A long, long, monastically strict service. Beyond the darkened windows, the dark evening moves, sprinkled with stars. My mother came up to me and whispered in my ear: "Sit on the bench and rest a little…"

I sat down, and a sweet drowsiness from fatigue overcame me, but the choir began to sing: "My soul, my soul, arise, why are you sleeping?"

I shook off the drowsiness, rose from the bench, and began to cross myself.

The priest reads: "I have sinned, I have transgressed, and I have rejected Your commandment…" These words make me think. I begin to think about my sins. During Maslenitsa, I filched a ten-kopeck piece from my father's pocket and bought myself some gingerbread; recently I threw a snowball at a cab driver's back; I called my friend Grishka a "red demon," though he's not red at all; I nicknamed Aunt Fedosya "the nag"; I hid change from my mother when I bought kerosene at the shop, and when I met the priest, I didn't take off my cap.

I kneel down and repeat contritely after the choir: "Have mercy on me, O God, have mercy on me…"

As we walked home from church, on the way I said to my father, hanging my head: "Dad! Forgive me, I filched that ten-kopeck piece from you!"

Father replied: "God will forgive you, son."

After a moment of silence, I also turned to my mother: "Momma, forgive me too. I spent the change from the kerosene on gingerbread." And my mother also replied: "God will forgive you."

Falling asleep in bed, I thought: "How good it is to be freed from sin!"

After the long reading of the Hours1The Hours — a prayer service of psalms and hymns celebrated immediately before a Divine Liturgy. In Great Lent, the weekday Hours have a special Lenten form, with kneeling prayers and additional readings, setting a more penitential tone than the Sunday service. with the kneeling prayers,2Kneeling prayers — a set of solemn prayers recited by the priest while the entire congregation kneels, unique to the Presanctified Liturgy. They occur after the Old Testament readings and express themes of repentance and petition for God's strength to complete the spiritual journey of the fast. the choir began to sing with poignant sorrow: "In Thy kingdom, remember us, O Lord, when Thou comest into Thy kingdom…"

The Liturgy with such a majestic and mysterious name — "the Presanctified"3The Liturgy of Presanctified Gifts — a unique, solemn service celebrated on weekday evenings during Great Lent in the Orthodox Church, wherein Communion is given from gifts (bread and wine) consecrated the previous Sunday. It begins with Vespers rather than the more joyful opening of the Sunday Liturgy, giving it a distinctly contemplative, Lenten character. — had begun differently than usual…

The altar and the ambo4Ambo — a raised platform directly in front of the iconostasis, from which the Gospel is read, sermons delivered, and Holy Communion given to the faithful. It is the focal point between the altar and the congregation. were bathed in the bright radiance of the March sun. According to the calendar, spring begins tomorrow, and I, like a prayer, softly, distinctly, and joyfully whisper: "s-p-r-i-n-g!"

I approached the ambo. I lowered my hands into the sunbeams and, tilting my head to the side, watched as the little "bunnies" of light danced on my hand. I tried to cover them with my cap to catch them, but they wouldn't be caught. A passing church watchman5The church watchman (custodian) — a lay attendant responsible for maintaining order and the physical upkeep of the church, such as extinguishing spent candles. A minor figure of authority who enforces decorum among parishioners, especially children. slapped my hand and said: "Stop fooling around." I was embarrassed and began to cross myself.

After the first reading from the Old Testament,6Old Testament readings — the Presanctified Liturgy includes extensive weekday readings from Genesis (Creation and the Fall), Proverbs, and Isaiah (prophecies of repentance and redemption), providing a scriptural narrative for the Lenten journey that the Sunday Liturgy does not have time for. the Royal Doors7Royal Doors — the central double doors of the iconostasis, the icon screen separating the altar from the nave. They are opened at solemn moments of the liturgy — for processions, the Gospel reading, and Holy Communion — symbolising the opening of the Kingdom of Heaven. opened. Everyone knelt, and the faces of the worshippers bowed down to the very floor. Into the profound silence entered the priest with a lighted candle and a censer. He made the sign of the cross over the kneeling people with the holy fire and said: "Wisdom! Arise! The Light of Christ enlightens all!"

My friend Vitka8"Vitka" — a familiar Russian diminutive of Viktor (Victor), like calling someone "Vic." The "-ka" suffix conveys closeness and informality between friends. came up to me and whispered quietly: "Kolka9"Kolka" — a familiar Russian diminutive of Nikolai (Nicholas), like "Nicky." A common, affectionate nickname used among children. is going to sing now… Listen, this is where it's really great!"

Kolka lives in our courtyard. He's only nine years old, and he already sings in the choir. Everyone praises him, and we kids, though we envy him, also regard him with respect.

And then three boys came out onto the ambo, and among them was Kolka. They were all in blue vestments with gold crosses and so reminded me of the three holy youths going into the fiery furnace to suffer for the Lord's sake.

The church became very, very quiet, and only in the altar did the censer in the priest's hand swing with a silvery shimmer.

The three boys began to sing in pure, crystal-fragile voices:

"Let my prayer be set forth… as incense before Thee… Give ear to the voice of my supplication…"10"Let my prayer be set forth" — the opening of a cherished Orthodox Lenten hymn (Psalm 141:2–3, set to music). Sung during the Presanctified Liturgy while the congregation kneels and the priest censes the church. Its slow, penitential melody is one of the most beloved sounds of the Lenten season, evoking the rising of prayer like incense smoke toward heaven.

Kolka's voice, like a bird, soars higher and higher and is about to fall, like a melting icicle from a height, and shatter into tiny crystal fragments.

I listen to him and think: "How wonderful it would be if I could also join the choir! They would put a beautiful vestment on me too and have me sing… I would go out to the middle of the church, and the priest would cense me, and everyone would look at me and think: 'What a Vasya!11"Vasya" — an affectionate Russian diminutive of Vasily (Basil). The narrator imagines the congregation admiring him by his own nickname — a charmingly self-centred daydream in the middle of a solemn service. What a fine fellow!' And my father and mother would be pleased that they have such a clever son…"

They sing, and the priest swings the censer — first at the altar table, then at the prothesis table.12The prothesis table (table of preparation) — a small table to the left of the main altar in Orthodox churches. Here the bread and wine are prepared before the Liturgy. During the Presanctified Liturgy, the already-consecrated Gifts rest here until the Great Entrance. The whole church, from the incense smoke, seems to be in clouds.

Vitka — the biggest mischief-maker in our courtyard — has even quieted down. With his mouth agape, he stares at the boys in blue, and a sunbeam plays in his hair. I noticed this and said to him: "You have golden hair!" Vitka didn't quite hear correctly, and he answered: "Yes, I have a pretty good voice, just a little hoarse, otherwise I would sing!"13In Russian, the word for "hair" (volos) sounds very similar to the word for "voice" (golos). The narrator says "У тебя золотой волос!" ("You have golden hair!"); Vitka hears "У тебя золотой голос!" ("You have a golden voice!") — and proudly, if self-deprecatingly, responds about his singing. A small comic gem hidden in the original Russian.

An old woman came up to us and said: "Quiet, you scamps!"

During the Great Entrance,14The Great Entrance — the solemn procession during the Liturgy when the clergy carry the bread and wine from the prothesis to the main altar. During the Presanctified Liturgy, the gifts have already been consecrated into the Body and Blood of Christ on the previous Sunday, making this procession especially reverent — hence the distinctive hymn that replaces the usual Cherubic Hymn. instead of the usual Cherubic Hymn,15The Cherubic Hymn — a solemn hymn sung during the Great Entrance at the Sunday Divine Liturgy: "Let us who mystically represent the Cherubim… now lay aside all earthly cares…" On the Presanctified Liturgy it is replaced by a different, more awe-inspiring text. they sang:

"Now the Heavenly Powers do serve with us invisibly; for lo, the King of Glory enters; lo, the mystical sacrifice is borne along, all accomplished."16"Now the Heavenly Powers" — the hymn sung at the Great Entrance of the Presanctified Liturgy, unique to this service. It emphasises that angelic hosts are serving invisibly alongside the clergy, accompanying Christ the King of Glory Himself — whose already-consecrated Body and Blood are being carried in the procession.

Very, very quietly, in the most soundless silence, the priest carried the Holy Gifts17The Holy Gifts — the consecrated bread and wine, the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ. In the Presanctified Liturgy, they were consecrated at the previous Sunday's Liturgy and reserved; now they are solemnly transferred to the altar for the communion of the faithful. from the prothesis to the altar table, and during this procession, everyone knelt with their faces to the floor, even the choristers.

And when the Holy Gifts had been transferred, they sang beautifully and touchingly: "In faith and love let us draw near, that we may be partakers of life everlasting." After the closing of the Royal Doors, the altar curtain was drawn only halfway, and this seemed especially unusual to me and Vitka.18Drawing the curtain only halfway — a unique rubric of the Presanctified Liturgy. On a regular Sunday the curtain is fully closed after the Great Entrance; here it remains half-drawn. The two boys take this to be a mistake — a charming reminder that children absorb the liturgy through habit and instinct rather than theological knowledge.

Vitka whispered to me: "Go tell the watchman the curtain isn't drawn properly!" I obeyed Vitka and went up to the watchman, who was removing candle stubs from the candlestand.

"Mr. Maxim, look, the curtain isn't right…" The watchman looked at me from under his shaggy eyebrows and grumbled angrily: "They forgot to ask you! It's supposed to be like that…"

After the liturgy, Vitka persuaded me to go to the grove: "There's a ton of snowdrops there!" he squealed.

The grove was outside the city, near the river. We walked in the fragrant pre-spring wind, over sparkling puddles and dirt golden from the sun, and loudly, out of tune, sang the prayer that had just resounded in the church:

"Let my prayer be set forth…"

— and we almost quarrelled over whose voice was better.

And when in the grove, which hummed in a special, springlike way, we came upon quiet, pale-blue snowdrops, for some reason we hugged each other and began to laugh and shout for the whole grove to hear… And what we shouted, and why we shouted — we didn't know.

Then we walked home with a little bouquet of snowdrops and dreamed about how wonderful it would be to join the church choir, put on a blue vestment, and sing:

"Let my prayer be set forth…"

My father put a riddle to me: "A bridge stretches seven versts long. At the end of the bridge stands an apple tree, and it has scattered its blossom over all God's world."

I liked the words, but could not guess the answer. It turned out to be Great Lent — seven weeks long — and Pascha.1Pascha — the Orthodox name for Easter, derived from the Hebrew Pesach (Passover). In the Orthodox Church it is the greatest feast of the year, the "Feast of Feasts." Great Lent lasts seven weeks (forty-eight days), hence the riddle of the bridge seven versts long.

The first week of Lent was drawing to its close. On Saturday the Church remembered the miracle of the Great Martyr Theodore Tyron.2The miracle of the Great Martyr Theodore Tyron — commemorated on the first Saturday of Great Lent. According to Church tradition, the martyr Theodore appeared in a vision to the Bishop of Constantinople in the 4th century and warned Christians that the Emperor Julian the Apostate had secretly ordered the marketplace food to be sprinkled with blood sacrificed to idols. Theodore instructed the bishop to tell the faithful to eat only koliva (a dish of boiled wheat or rice with honey) instead. The Church has commemorated this miracle every year since. On that day in the church they gave out honeyed rice with raisins.3Honeyed rice with raisins — a simplified version of koliva, the traditional Orthodox memorial food (boiled wheat or rice sweetened with honey, decorated with raisins, nuts, and dried fruit), distributed in church on this particular Saturday. The deacon's mild reproach at the boy helping himself five times is a gentle comic touch. I liked it so much that instead of one spoonful I ate five, and the deacon holding the dish said to me: "Is that not rather a lot?" I choked with embarrassment and fell to coughing. During those God-preserved days — that was another name for the fast — I often went up to the calendar and counted the little pages: how many days were left until Pascha?

I leafed through only as far as Holy Saturday and looked no further — was it not sinful to peek at Pascha before the time?

My father, sitting at his cobbler's bench, sang the words of the Lenten hymn:

Thy grace hath shone forth, O Lord,
that it hath shone forth, the enlightenment of our souls;
let us cast off the works of darkness, and put on the armour of light:
that having crossed the great deep of the fast…

More and more often I was set to reading in the evenings from the "Treasury of the Spirit, Gathered from the World" by St. Tikhon of Zadonsk.4St. Tikhon of Zadonsk (1724–1783) — a Russian Orthodox bishop and ascetic writer, venerated as a saint. His "Treasury of the Spirit, Gathered from the World" is a collection of spiritual reflections on everyday objects and scenes, written in an accessible, warm style. Each short chapter takes a simple thing — a candle, flowing water, a harvest — as a starting point for spiritual meditation. I learned by heart the opening words of that book and admired them as one admires a little beaded purse embroidered in a women's convent, which my mother had given me on my name-day:

"As a merchant gathers various goods from different lands and brings them home and stores them away — so may a Christian gather from this world thoughts profitable to the soul, and lay them in the inner chamber of his heart, and by them build up his soul."

Much in this book I did not understand. I only loved the titles of certain homilies. I noticed that my mother loved those titles too. You would read aloud, say: "The World," "The Sun," "Sowing and Harvest," "The Burning Candle," "Water Flowing Past" — and mother would already be sighing: "How beautiful it is, O Lord!"

Father would object: "Wait before you sigh… These are only the headings." And she would answer: "Even these words warm me!"

You would read the work for a long time. You would close the book and, following the old custom, kiss it.5Kissing a book after reading it — a traditional Orthodox and Old Russian custom of reverencing sacred texts, particularly the Bible, prayer books, and patristic writings, by kissing them when opening or closing them. Many of the saint's teachings had been read — but mother would keep repeating only the one title she had taken to her heart: "The Burning Candle… Water Flowing Past…"

Our town was expecting two great events: the visit of the bishop6Bishop (arkhierei) — in the Russian Orthodox Church, a general term for a bishop of any rank (bishop, archbishop, metropolitan). The word vladyka ("ruler," "lord") is used to address and refer to them. All Orthodox bishops must be monks. with his celebrated protodeacon, and the rite of the proclamation of the anathema upon apostates from the faith.

About the anathema I was told that in the old days it was proclaimed against Grishka Otrepyev, Stenka Razin, Pugachev, and Mazepa,7Grishka Otrepyev, Stenka Razin, Pugachev, Mazepa — four figures historically proclaimed anathema by the Russian Orthodox Church: Grigory Otrepyev, the False Dmitry (a pretender to the tsar's throne, early 17th century); Stenka Razin (leader of a great Cossack and peasant rebellion, executed 1671); Yemelyan Pugachev (leader of an even larger rebellion, executed 1775); Ivan Mazepa (Ukrainian Cossack hetman who sided with Sweden against Peter the Great, died 1709). The anathema against them was traditionally pronounced on the Sunday of Orthodoxy until the practice was modified in 1869 and eventually discontinued. and on that day old foolish women would congratulate each other on the way out of church: "With the little curse upon them, dearie." At the word "anathema" I always pictured for some reason great hollow stones tumbling from high mountains into a smoky abyss.

That day was murky, swollen with snow and wind, ready to break into a heavy leaden blizzard. Although Yakov had explained to me that the anathema was not to be understood as a curse, I stood in the church in fear all the same.

From the altar came out the clergy to meet the bishop. I counted twelve priests and four deacons.

The procession was brought up at the rear by a tall, imposing protodeacon with a broad copper brow and auburn curls falling to his very shoulders. He sailed through the cathedral like a great cloud across the sky, his blue sticharion rustling like a blizzard, girded with a double silver orarion.8Orarion — the long liturgical stole worn by an Orthodox deacon, usually carried over the left shoulder. A protodeacon — the senior deacon of a cathedral — wears a double orarion, crossed over both shoulders. The silver double orarion is a mark of his elevated rank. A strong copper hand with cast-iron long fingers held the censer.

About this protodeacon there went a rumour that he had once been a barge-hauler on the Volga,9Barge-hauler (burlačk) on the Volga — before the age of steam, shallow-draught barges on the Volga and other Russian rivers were hauled upstream by teams of men pulling a long towrope (bicheva). The burlački became an iconic symbol of Russian toil, most famously in Ilya Repin's painting "Barge Haulers on the Volga" (1873). The story of a mighty voice discovered among the common people and raised up by the Church is a characteristic piece of Russian hagiographic folklore. and that one day, straining at the towrope, he had burst into song over all the Volga breadth. A Moscow metropolitan10Metropolitan — in the Orthodox Church, a bishop of one of the most senior sees, ranking above archbishops. Moscow was one of the most prestigious. The metropolitan's chance encounter with the hauler and his decision to bring him into the Church mirrors several traditional Russian saints' lives in its structure. travelling nearby heard that song. He was thunderstruck to hear a voice of such rare power. The bishop commanded the singer to be brought before him. And that was how it began. The barge-hauler became a protodeacon.

On the bell-tower they rang a full peal, all the bells at once.11"Vo vsya tyazhkaya" (ringing all the bells at once) — a full peal on all the bells simultaneously, rung only for the most solemn occasions: the arrival of a bishop, the great feasts, and Easter night. Ordinary services used a smaller set of bells in a rhythmic pattern. A carriage drew up to the cathedral, and from it stepped a stately monk in a sable coat, leaning on a tall black staff. The monk's face was imperious and brooding, like the faces of ancient Assyrian kings I had seen in a picture-book.

At that moment there rang out what seemed a great clap of thunder. Everyone crossed themselves and swayed, glancing in awe at the copper protodeacon. He had begun his exclamation: "It is truly meet and right…" The choir joined his voice, singing the billowing processional anthem for the bishop's entry, above which rolled the heavy waves of the protodeacon's voice: "…and more honourable beyond compare than the Seraphim…" Two sub-deacons were vesting the bishop in his purple mantiya.12Mantiya (mantle) — a long ceremonial cloak worn by bishops and abbots in the Orthodox Church during solemn processions and services. The bishop's mantiya is purple or violet, with decorative horizontal bands (tabliya) and small bells sewn along the lower hem — the "running bells" the boy hears chiming. It chimed with thin, rippling bells.

This was the first solemn service I had ever seen, and I was glad that our Orthodoxy was so mighty and so spacious. It was not for nothing that today was called, in the Church's own name, the Triumph of Orthodoxy.13The Triumph of Orthodoxy — a feast celebrated on the first Sunday of Great Lent in the Orthodox Church. It commemorates the final restoration of the veneration of icons in 843 AD, ending the long period of Iconoclasm. The service includes a solemn procession with icons and, historically in Russia, the proclamation of the anathema against heretics and apostates from the faith.

The bishop was vested in rare vestments, in the middle of the church on a raised crimson dais, and all the while they sang the words I remembered: "Let thy soul rejoice in the Lord!…" All this was a wonder to me, and Grishka said to me several times: "Shut your mouth! You're standing there like a crow!"

"And you've got a runny nose!" I flared at Grishka, shoving him with my elbow.

"What are you two up to, making mischief here?" hissed the red-nosed merchant Samoryadov at us. "Do you want an anathema?"

But the merchant Samoryadov himself could not hold out when the protodeacon let loose with all his Volga might: "So let your light shine before men!…"

The merchant doubled over, gasped, and cried out in rapture: "Well, I never… what a voice!… God bl—" He wanted to add something improper, but took fright; covered his mouth with his palm and began crossing himself rapidly. People looked at the merchant and smiled.

I was hemmed in and blocked from the light. I tried to push my way forward, but they would not let me through and even scolded me: "What a restless little shrimp!" "Let the rascal through to the front, or he'll tread on all our corns!"

I was shoved right up to the ambo, where the distinguished worshippers stood. They glanced sideways at me, but I paid them no attention whatsoever and took my place beside a general.

I watched the "golden procession" of the clergy from the altar to the middle of the church to the singing of "Blessed are the poor in spirit"; the bishop's entrance with candles, proclaiming over the people the prayer "Look down from heaven, O God" and making the sign of the cross over us all with fire — and at that same time three boys in sticharia sang: "Holy God, Holy Mighty, Holy Immortal, have mercy on us"; the public washing of the bishop's hands before the Great Entrance14The Great Entrance — a solemn procession during the Orthodox Divine Liturgy in which the priest and deacon carry the prepared bread and wine from the table of oblation through the north door, across the nave, and in through the royal doors to the altar, symbolising Christ's triumphal entry. It is accompanied by the Cherubic Hymn. The bishop's ceremonial washing of hands before this moment is part of the pontifical (hierarchical) Liturgy. to the singing of "We who mystically represent the Cherubim" — and all of it amid the Sinai thunder of the protodeacon's exclamations.

I could not stand still; I kept turning from side to side, burning all over with admiration.

The general placed his hand on my head and said politely: "Steady now, my dear boy, steady!"

The rite of anathematisation began. Large dark icons of the Saviour and the Mother of God were carried out to the middle of the church. The bishop read the Gospel of the lost sheep, and a litany was proclaimed for the return of all who had fallen away into the embrace of the Heavenly Father.

Outside the cathedral windows the blizzard beat. All the people stood darkened, with bowed heads, like the earth awaiting a storm.

After the prayer for the holy enlightenment of all who were darkened and in despair, the protodeacon mounted a special wooden ambon15Special wooden ambon (voskhodnitsa) — a small raised platform or portable pulpit set up in the middle of the church for the deacon to stand on when making solemn proclamations, so that his voice could carry to all corners of a large cathedral. and laid his heavy metallic hands upon the tall black lectern. He surveyed all those present in silence and with severity, raised his golden-haired head high, crossed himself with a broad sweep, and with the full force of his wide voice sang the prokeimenon:16Prokeimenon — a short liturgical verse from the Psalms, sung in a responsorial fashion between the priest or deacon and the choir, serving as an introduction to a scriptural reading or solemn moment. Here it precedes the anathema proclamations.

"Who is so great a God as our God? Thou art our God, who workest wonders!"

As if seized by fire and storm, the protodeacon hurled from the height of the ambon his blazing, terrible word: ana-the-ma!

And again I pictured the mountain from which heavy black stones were tumbling into a smoky abyss.

All those severed from the Church were those falling stones. Behind them, from the height of the mountain, the Church sang three times its great sorrowing, almost sobbing cry: "Anathema, anathema, anathema!"

The Church pitied those it cast out. On that murky, blizzard-swept day all the earth seemed to ring with the protodeacon's bronze:

To those who deny the existence of God — anathema!

To those who dare to say that the Son of God is not of one essence with the Father and was not God — anathema!

To those who do not receive the grace of redemption — anathema!

To those who deny the Judgment of God and the requital of sinners — anathema!…

That day my mother wept: "I am sorry for them… O Lord!…"

"Well, may the Lord forgive you, sonny… Go with prayer. And mind you, behave more reverently in church. Don't go climbing the bell tower, or you'll get your coat all dirty. Remember, we paid three rubles1A ruble is the basic unit of Russian money. In this context it refers to pre-revolutionary Russian currency, indicating the real expense of the boy's clothing. for that sewing," my mother exhorted me as I set off for confession.2Confession, in this context, is the sacrament of repentance in the Eastern Orthodox Church. It is the ritual where a believer privately confesses his sins to a priest, in order to receive God's forgiveness and spiritual cleansing before taking Holy Communion.

"Tie the money in your handkerchief," my father added, "buy a three-kopeck3A kopeck is a small unit of Russian currency, similar to a penny in the US dollar system. There are 100 kopecks in one ruble. candle and give the priest five kopecks for the confession.4This practice was a traditional offering, and was not a payment for forgiveness. Three kopecks were used to buy a devotional candle, and five kopecks were intended as a customary, voluntary donation to support the priest. And look here, you little rascal, don't go losing money again, playing 'heads or tails'.5In this context, "heads or tails" was a children's gambling game where the winner would keep the coin that was flipped. The father warns his son not to lose his confession money this way. And answer the priest according to your conscience!"

"Alright!" I muttered impatiently, crossing myself broadly before the icons.6The boy makes a large, noticeable sign of the cross (touching his forehead, chest, and both shoulders) in front of the icons — sacred paintings — hanging in the corner of his home. His "broad" gesture suggests he is doing it quickly and performatively before he rushes out.

Before leaving home, I bowed to the ground before my parents and said, "Forgive me, for Christ's sake!"7In 19th-century traditional Russian Orthodox practice, it was customary to ask forgiveness from one's family before receiving the sacraments. This bow and plea was a ritual of reconciliation and humility, ensuring the child approached confession with a clean heart.

Outside, the sound of bells, a road blurred and golden from the setting sun, noisy little streams of snowmelt running, starlings sitting in the trees, carts rumbling in a spring-like way, and far, far away, their rapid, clattering noises could be heard.

The yard-keeper, David, was splitting the porous ice with a crowbar, and it rang so nicely, striking against the stone.

"Where are you off to, all dressed up like a dandy?" David asked me, and his voice was special, not gloomy like always, but clear and fresh, as if clarified by the spring wind.

"To go to confession!" I replied importantly.

"A good time for it, a good time, but just don't forget to tell the priest that you called me a 'floor-sweeping martyr'," the yard-keeper grinned.8The insult "floor-sweeping martyr" is the boy's childish and disrespectful twist on the term "martyr." He combines the sacred concept of a martyr (someone who suffers for their faith) with the yard-keeper's mundane job of sweeping floors, mockingly suggesting that the man acts as if his simple, humble work is a form of heroic suffering.

My friends — Kotka Lyutov and Urka Dubin9"Kotka" is a diminutive form of the name Constantine. "Urka" is a Russified abbreviation of the Hebrew name Uriah. — were launching little boats made from eggshells in a puddle and building a dam out of bricks.

Urka recently hit my little sister, and I really wanted to go up to him and box his ears, but I remembered that it was confession day and it's a sin to fight. Silently, with a sulky look, I walked past.

"Look at Vaska10"Vaska" is a common, rough, street-boy form of the Russian name Vasily (Basil). The boys use it to mock the protagonist. — The author of the story, Vasily Nikiforov-Volgin, has said that his stories are autobiographical, recalling genuine memories from his childhood., showing off!" Kotka called out mockingly. "In a new coat… in boots, like a cat… Your boots are flashy, but your face is trashy!"11This was a common children's taunt, pointing out the mismatch between a person's fine clothes and their rough appearance. It rhymes in Russian: "Обувь лаковая, а рожа аховая."

"And your father still owes my dad fifty kopecks!" I retorted through my teeth, and careful not to splash mud on my patent leather boots, slowly stepped along the pavement. Kotka didn't remain in debt12The phrase "didn't remain in debt" means that Kotka immediately retaliated with an insult of his own — he "paid back" the boy's verbal jab with the "blockhead cobbler" remark. and shouted after me in a clear, scattering voice: "Blockhead cobbler!"13The original Russian, "сапожные шпильки" (sapozhnyye shpil'ki), literally means "shoemaker's nails" — the small nails used to attach a shoe's sole to the heel. As an insult, it is a direct, class-based taunt, mocking the boy for coming from a family of shoemakers.

Ah, with what pleasure I would wallop him on the neck for calling me a 'blockhead cobbler'! That idiot, that skinny bag of bones14The original Russian, "шкилетина" (shkiletina), is a childhood insult, literally meaning "skinny as a skeleton.", he's putting on airs, just because his father works in a sausage shop, and my dad's a shoemaker…15In the social context of pre-revolutionary Russia, working in a sausage shop was perceived as slightly more prestigious than being a cobbler. The cobbler's work was seen as dirty, manual labor, while a sausage shop employee worked with food — a cleaner, desirable commodity — which carried more social weight. A shoemaker, but not an ordinary one! He sews boots for merchants and deacons' fathers, not for just anyone!

The sad Lenten bells were tolling.16"Sad Lenten bells" refers to the distinct, slow, and mournful ringing of church bells during the Lenten season in the Russian Orthodox tradition. The tempo and pattern of the bells change to reflect the penitential and somber mood of this period.

"Just you wait… after confession, I'll show Kotka!" I thought, approaching the church.

The church fence. Rough elms and mossy birches. A long green bench, flooded with the smoky evening sun. On the bench sat the penitents17Penitents are people who are confessing their sins and seeking forgiveness from God, especially in a formal religious context like the sacrament of Confession. In the story, it refers to the group of people waiting their turn to confess to the priest., waiting for the start of Great Compline.18Great Compline is a long and solemn service of prayers and psalms in the Eastern Orthodox tradition, held on certain weekdays during Lent and on the eves of major feasts. It is a service of deep repentance, making it the appropriate liturgical setting for confession in the story. Voices of kids came from the bell tower, startling the church pigeons. Someone saw me from the height and called out: "Vaa-a-s-ka! Hurry on up here!"

I pretended not to hear, though I myself really wanted to go up the old, creaky stairs to the bell tower, ring the bell, look with bated breath at the scattered city, and watch as the thin, turquoise dusk enveloped the evening earth, and listen as the evening noises faded and died away.

"You'll get your clothes and boots dirty," I sighed, "it's not good when you're in all new things!"

"And so, my dear people, in this desert there labored three venerable elders," Uncle Osip, the graveyard watchman, was telling the penitents. "They prayed, fasted, and labored… yes… labored… And all around there was nothing but the desert…"

I pondered Uncle Osip's words, and the desert appeared to me, for some reason looking like a sky without clouds.

"Vaska! You here to confess too?" Vitya's hoarse voice was heard.

I looked at him angrily. Yesterday I lost to him the three kopecks my mother had given me to buy soap for laundry, for which I got a smack on the back of the neck.

"Let's go play a game of 'heads or tails', huh?" Vitya coaxed me, showing a five-kopeck piece.

"I won't play with you! You always cheat!"

I looked at Uncle Osip's long, grey beard and thought: "If Uncle Osip didn't drink, he would definitely be a saint!.."

Great Compline. Confession. Thick, fragrant gloom. The stern eyes of the priest in dark glasses gazed into my soul.

"Well, I suppose you've been pilfering sugar without asking?" he asked me kindly.

Afraid to raise my eyes to the priest, I answered in a trembling voice: "No… our shelf is too high!.."

And when he asked me, "so what are your sins?" after a long silence I suddenly remembered a grave sin. At the very thought of it, I was thrown into hot and cold flashes.

"There, there," I grew alarmed, "now the priest will find out about this sin, he'll drive me away from confession and won't let me take Holy Communion tomorrow…"19In traditional Orthodox Christian practice, being barred from Communion is a severe spiritual punishment. If the priest deems a person's confession insincere, or their sins too grave and unrepented, he can deny them Communion — a profound spiritual failure for the boy and his family.

And it seemed as if someone dark-visaged was whispering in my ear: "Repent!"

I shifted from foot to foot. My mouth twisted, and I wanted to cry bitter, repentant tears.

"Father…" I said through sobs, "I… I… during Lent… I ate sausage!20According to the traditions of the Eastern Orthodox Church, Lent involves a complete fast from all meat and dairy products. Eating sausage, a meat product, was a direct and serious violation of this sacred fast. Vitya gave some to me. I didn't want to… but I ate it!"

The priest smiled, made the sign of the cross over me with his dark vestment21The "dark vestment" is the priest's epitrachelion, a long stole worn around the neck. During confession, the priest places the end of it over the penitent's head. It is dark in color because the liturgical color for Lent in the Orthodox Church is often purple, symbolizing repentance., wafted with incense smoke, and uttered important, radiant words.22The "important, radiant words" are the formal prayer of absolution recited by the priest at the end of confession. Through this prayer, he announces God's forgiveness of the penitent's sins. For the boy, these words are "radiant" because they lift the heavy burden of his guilt.

Walking away from the lectern, I suddenly remembered the words of the yard-keeper David, and I felt bitter again. Waiting until the priest had finished confessing someone, I approached him a second time.

"What is it?"

"Father! I have another sin. I forgot to mention it… I called our yard-keeper David a 'floor-sweeping martyr'…"

When this sin too was forgiven, I walked through the church with a heart clear and light, and smiled.

At home, I lay in bed, covered with a sheepskin coat, and through a transparent, light sleep I heard my father hammering a boot and quietly singing a hymn, with trills, in the old-fashioned way: "By the wave of the sea, who hid himself from ancient times…"23This hymn is sung in Russian Orthodox churches on Great Saturday, just prior to Pascha (Easter): "By the wave of the sea / who hid himself from ancient times / the persecutor of the tormentor, / the youths hid themselves under the earth; / but we, like the youths, / sing to the Lord, / gloriously glorified." And outside the window, a joyful spring rain rustled…

I dreamed of the Lord's paradise. Cherubim sang. Little flowers laughed. And it was as if Kotka and I were sitting on the grass, playing with juicy apples of paradise and asking each other for forgiveness.

"Forgive me, Vasya,24The shift from the rough nickname "Vaska" to the affectionate "Vasya" is significant. It symbolizes the complete reconciliation and forgiveness between the boys. In the dream of paradise, the insulting nicknames are gone, replaced by friendly names, reflecting the story's theme of grace and restored harmony. for calling you a 'blockhead cobbler'!"

"And you, Kotya,25The change from "Kotka" to "Kotya" follows the same pattern. "Kotka" is a rough, informal version of the name, while "Kotya" is a softer, more affectionate diminutive. The switch signifies that the hostility between them has dissolved into mutual forgiveness and friendship. forgive me. I called you a 'skinny bag of bones'! And all around is the Lord's paradise and joy unspeakable!"

On Holy Thursday,1Holy Thursday, also known as Maundy Thursday, is the Christian holy day falling on the Thursday before Pascha (Easter), commemorating the Last Supper of Jesus Christ with his disciples, the washing of the disciples' feet, and the institution of the Holy Eucharist. they boiled the Easter eggs. According to an old village custom, they were boiled with onion skins,2Boiling eggs with onion skins is a traditional, natural method of dyeing Easter eggs, widespread in Eastern Europe and Russia. The pigments in the outer skins release a deep, reddish-brown or amber color when boiled, creating a rich, earthy hue without the use of artificial dyes. which made them the deep color of an autumn maple leaf. They smelled special — like cypress, or like fresh, sun-warmed pine wood. Mother didn't approve of store-bought dyes in fancy boxes.

"That's not the village way," she would say, "not according to our custom!"

"But what about the Grigoryevs," I'd ask her, "or the Lyutovs? They dye theirs all sorts of colors, and they're so beautiful you can't take your eyes off them!"

"The Grigoryevs and Lyutovs are town folk, and we are from the village! And in the village, as you know, the customs come from Christ Himself…"3For centuries, village life in Russia remained largely unchanged. Customs, including how to celebrate religious holidays, were passed down from generation to generation without significant outside influence. This created a powerful sense that their way was the original way, preserved in its purest form.

Mother took the eggs out of the pot, placed them in a little basket that looked like a swallow's nest, crossed them, and said: "Put them under the icons. You will take them to be blessed at the Easter Matins service…"4This describes an Eastern Orthodox tradition observed at Pascha (Easter). The eggs, prepared on Holy Thursday, are placed under the household's holy icons until Easter Sunday. The blessing occurs during the Easter Matins service, where the priest blesses food that worshipers have brought, marking the end of the Lenten fast.

During Holy Week, we walked more quietly, spoke more softly, and ate almost nothing. Instead of tea, we drank sbiten5Sbiten (сбитень) is a traditional Russian hot winter beverage made by boiling water with honey, spices, and sometimes jam or herbs. Common spices include ginger, cinnamon, cloves, cardamom, and mint. Think of it as Russia's historic answer to spiced cider — a warm, sweet, and spicy drink meant to ward off the cold. (hot water with molasses) and had it with black bread.6Black bread is a reference to rye bread, a staple of the traditional Russian diet. It is a dense, dark, and strongly flavored sourdough bread, distinct from the lighter wheat breads common elsewhere. In the evenings, we went to the monastery church, where the services were more traditional and strict. A few days ago, mother brought back words from this church, heard from a nun: "For prayer, fasting is the same as wings are for a bird."

Holy Thursday was full of sun and blue streams. The sun was drinking up the last of the snow, and with every hour the earth became clearer and more spacious. Fast drips fell from the trees. I caught them in my palm and drank — they say your head won't ache from it…

At ten in the morning, the large bell rang for the Thursday liturgy. It was no longer ringing in the Lenten manner (slowly and sorrowfully), but with a full, frequent strike. Today was our communion day.7In this story, set in a traditional Russian Orthodox context of the early 20th century, receiving communion was a profound and relatively infrequent event. Believers prepared through extensive prayer, fasting, and a sacramental confession. Holy Thursday, commemorating the Last Supper when Christ instituted the Eucharist, was one of the most significant days of the year to partake. The whole family was to receive the Holy Mysteries of Christ.8In the Eastern Orthodox Church, the Eucharist is often referred to as the "Holy Mysteries."

We walked to church along the riverbank. Ice floes floated on the blue, noisy water and broke against each other. Many seagulls circled, and their whiteness reminded me of flying ice chips.

In the church, there was not the same thick, black-robed sorrow as in the first three days of Holy Week, when they sang "Behold, the Bridegroom comes at midnight" and focused on the adorned bridal chamber.9He is referring to the Eastern Orthodox services on the first three days of Holy Week, which focus on the Last Judgment that will come at the end of the world. Priests wear dark vestments, and the hymns are solemn, using the parable of the Ten Virgins to urge constant spiritual readiness for Christ's (the Bridegroom's) coming.

The priest was not in black vestments, but in blue.10The story likely takes place in 1909, when Holy Thursday occurred the day after the Annunciation. While the typical vestment color for Holy Thursday is deep red or purple, the feast of the Annunciation calls for the color blue (honoring the Virgin Mary). The blue vestments thus visually unite the joy of the Incarnation with the sorrow of the coming Crucifixion. The women communicants stood in white dresses and looked like spring apple trees — especially the girls.

I wore a white embroidered shirt, girded with a belt from Mount Athos.11Mount Athos is a center of Eastern Orthodox monasteries in Greece. When Orthodox Christians travel there, they often bring back icons, prayer ropes, belts, or other items as reminders of their holy pilgrimage. Everyone looked at my shirt, and one lady said to another: "Wonderful Russian embroidery!" I was happy for my mother, who had embroidered such an exquisite shirt for me.

Anxiously, thin little silver hammers, like little bird beaks, beat in my soul when they sang before the Great Entrance:12The Great Entrance is a solemn procession during the Divine Liturgy in Eastern Orthodox churches. The clergy carry the bread and wine that will be consecrated for Holy Communion from the Table of Preparation to the main altar.

"Of Thy Mystical Supper, O Son of God, accept me today as a communicant; for I will not speak of Thy Mystery to Thine enemies, neither like Judas will I give Thee a kiss; but like the thief will I confess Thee: Remember me, O Lord, in Thy Kingdom…"13"Of Thy Mystical Supper…" is an Eastern Orthodox prayer expressing profound humility and repentance, traditionally offered prior to receiving Holy Communion.

"Accept me as a communicant…" the silver words shone bright in my soul.

I remembered my mother's words: if you are filled with joy when you receive communion — know that the Lord has entered you and made His abode in you.

With excitement, I awaited the Holy Mysteries. "Will Christ enter me? Am I worthy?" My soul trembled when the Royal Doors14Royal Doors are the central doors in the iconostasis in an Eastern Orthodox church, leading to the altar. opened, the priest came out onto the ambo15The ambo is a raised platform in front of the iconostasis in an Eastern Orthodox church. with the golden Chalice,16The Chalice is the sacred cup used for the Orthodox Eucharist, holding the wine which becomes the Blood of Christ. It is often made of precious metal and is a central focal point of the liturgy. and the words rang out: "With fear of God and with faith, draw near!"

From the window, the sun's rays fell directly into the Chalice, and it blazed with a hot, scorching light.

Silent, with my arms crossed over my chest, I approached the Chalice. Tears ignited in my eyes when the priest said: "The servant of God partakes for the remission of sins and unto life everlasting." Blazing with sunlight, the shining, golden spoon17A liturgical spoon, usually made from precious metal, is used for administering Holy Communion to the faithful during Eastern Orthodox Church services. touched my lips, and the choir sang, to me, the servant of God, they sang: "Receive the Body of Christ, taste the Fountain of Immortality…"

After moving away from the Chalice, I did not for a long time take my cross-folded hands from my chest — I was pressing in the joy of Christ that had taken up residence in me…

Mother and father kissed me and said: "Congratulations on receiving the Holy Mysteries!"18"Congratulations on receiving the Holy Mysteries!" — In Russian Orthodox culture, this is a traditional pious greeting after someone has received Holy Communion. It acknowledges the profound significance of the event, treating it as a spiritual milestone worthy of congratulations, much like a birthday or name-day.

That day, I walked as if on soft, downy fabrics — I couldn't hear any noise within myself, or in the world. Everything was heavenly quiet, filled with a blue light, and from everywhere the song could be heard: "Of Thy Mystical Supper… accept me as a communicant."

And I felt compassion for everyone on earth, even for the snow I had forcibly scattered for the sun to burn: "Let it live out its tiny days!"

Before the bell rang for the reading of the Twelve Gospels,1The Twelve Gospels — the popular name for the Service of the Twelve Passion Gospels (officially called the Matins of Holy Friday), served on the evening of Holy Thursday in the Orthodox Church. Twelve passages from the four Gospels describing Christ's Passion — from the Last Supper through the Crucifixion and burial — are read one after another throughout the service. Worshippers stand holding lighted candles throughout. I was making a little lantern out of red paper, in which I would carry the candle from the Passion of Christ. With that candle we would light the oil lamp and keep its flame burning, never letting it go out, until the Ascension.2Keeping the candle alight until the Ascension — a widespread Russian folk custom. The candle brought home from the Twelve Gospels was considered to carry a sacred, protective fire. Families would try to keep it or the lamp lit from it burning continuously through the forty days of Paschaltide until the Feast of the Ascension.

"The Gospel fire," my mother assured me, "delivers one from grief and the darkening of the soul!"

My little lantern turned out so neatly that I could not resist running over to Grishka's to show it off. He inspected it sharply and said: "Not bad, but mine is better!" At which he produced his own — tin-clad, with coloured glass panes.

"A lantern like this," Grishka argued, "won't go out in the fiercest gale, but yours won't hold!"

I grew downcast: what if I couldn't carry the holy flame all the way home? I shared my fears with my mother. She reassured me.

"There's no great skill in carrying it in a lantern — try our way, the village way: carry it in your bare hands. Your grandmother, now, used to carry the Thursday fire3Thursday fire (chetvergovy ogonʹ) — the candle or flame brought home from the church service on Holy Thursday, highly venerated in Russian popular piety. It was believed to have protective and healing properties. The grandmother carrying it two versts (about two kilometres) across open fields in the wind is presented as an act of quiet, stubborn faith. two whole versts, in the worst wind, across open fields, and always brought it home!"

The eve of Holy Thursday4Holy Thursday (Velikiy Chetverg, "Great Thursday") — the Thursday of Holy Week, commemorating the Last Supper, the washing of the disciples' feet, the prayer in Gethsemane, and the betrayal and arrest of Christ. In Russia it was one of the most deeply observed days of the liturgical year. was strewn with a golden sunset glow. The earth was growing cold, and the puddles were drawing over with a crisp glaze of ice. And there was such a stillness that I heard a jackdaw, which had come to drink from a puddle, crack the thin frost with its beak.

"How quiet it is!" I remarked to my mother. She fell into thought and sighed: "On such days it is always so… The earth is sharing in the suffering of the Heavenly King!"

One could not help but shudder when, across the quiet earth, there rolled the round, full-toned stroke of the cathedral bell. The silver, chest-warm ring of the Znamenskaya church joined it; the Uspenskaya church answered with a murmuring ripple; the Vladimirskaya with a plaintive moan; and the Voskresenskaya with a deep, cooing wave.

From the sliding, gliding sound of the bells the town seemed to float through the blue dusk like a great ship, and the dusk swayed like curtains in the wind, now one way, now another.

The reading of the Twelve Gospels was beginning. In the middle of the church stood a tall Crucifix. Before it, a lectern. I took my place beside the cross, and the head of the Saviour in its crown of thorns looked especially tormented. Syllable by syllable I read the Church Slavonic words5Church Slavonic words at the foot of the cross — the inscription carved or painted at the base of a large Crucifix in an Orthodox church, taken from Isaiah 53:5 in the Slavonic Bible. The boy reads it syllable by syllable, suggesting he is still learning to decipher the archaic script. at the foot of the cross: "He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities."

I remembered how He had blessed the children, how He had saved the woman from being stoned, how He had wept in the Garden of Gethsemane, forsaken by all — and a dusk came over my eyes, and I wanted so much to go away to a monastery…

After the litany, in which the words touched me: "For those who travel by sea, those on journeys, the sick and the suffering, let us pray to the Lord" — the choir sang, as if in a single sob:

"When the glorious disciples were enlightened at the washing of feet at the supper…"6"When the glorious disciples were enlightened at the washing of feet at the supper…" — the opening words of the Thursday troparion (liturgical hymn), sung at the beginning of the service. It continues by contrasting the faithfulness of the disciples with the treachery of Judas, and ends with an appeal to Christ for mercy. This hymn is one of the most musically beloved of Holy Week.

Everyone's candles were lit, and the faces of the people became like icons in the light of an oil lamp — luminous and full of grace.

From the altar, borne along on the broad, mournful streams of the Thursday troparion,7Troparion — the principal hymn of a feast or saint's day in the Orthodox Church, summarising the theological meaning of the occasion. The author describes it as "broad and mournful" (shiroki unylye razlivy), evoking a river in slow, heavy flood. they brought out the heavy Gospel book, bound in black velvet, and laid it on the lectern before the Crucifix. Everything became hushed and listening. The dusk outside the windows turned bluer and more pensive.

With unwearying sorrow the "beginning" of the reading of the First Gospel was intoned: "Glory to Thy Passion, O Lord." The Gospel is long, very long, but one listens to it without weariness, breathing in deeply the breath and the grief of Christ's words. The candle in one's hand grows warm and tender. In its little flame there is also something alive and alert.

During the censing, words were read as if from the lips of Christ Himself.

"O my people, what have I done unto you, or wherein have I wearied you? I gave light to your blind, I cleansed your lepers, I raised a man who lay upon his bed. O my people, what have I done unto you, and what do you render unto Me? For manna you gave Me gall, for water vinegar, and for loving Me, you nailed Me to the cross."8"O my people, what have I done unto you…" — the Reproaches (in Greek, Improperia), sung during the censing midway through the service of the Twelve Gospels. Christ speaks directly to His people, contrasting His acts of mercy in the Old Testament with their response of betrayal and crucifixion. The text is adapted from the prophet Micah (6:3–4) and woven with Gospel references.

On that evening, with a nearness that made one tremble, I saw how the soldiers took Him, how He was judged, scourged, crucified, and how He took leave of His Mother.

"Glory to Thy long-suffering, O Lord."

After the Eighth Gospel, the three finest singers in our town stood in their fine blue kaftans before the Crucifix and sang the Exapostilarion:9Exapostilarion (svetilen) — a short hymn sung near the end of Matins in the Orthodox Church, traditionally illuminating a key theme of the feast. The Exapostilarion of Holy Friday ("The wise thief…") is one of the most loved of the entire liturgical year: in a single verse it holds together the Crucifixion, the repentant thief of Luke 23, the image of the cross as a tree of light, and the hope of salvation.

"The wise thief didst Thou make worthy of Paradise in a single hour, O Lord; enlighten me also by the wood of the cross and save me."

With the little flames of their candles, people went out of the church into the night. Coming toward them were other lights — people walking from the other churches. Underfoot the ice crackled, a peculiar pre-Paschal wind was blowing, all the churches were pealing, from the river came the sound of cracking ice, and in the black sky, so vast and divinely mighty, there were many stars.

"Perhaps up there too… the Twelve Gospels have been read, and all the saints are carrying their Thursday candles to their heavenly chambers?"

Great Friday1Great Friday (Velikaya Pyatnitsa) — the Orthodox name for Good Friday, the Friday of Holy Week, commemorating the Crucifixion, death, and burial of Christ. The word "Great" (Veliky) is the standard Orthodox qualifier for the days of Holy Week: Great Monday, Great Tuesday, and so on. arrived all wrapped in sorrow. Yesterday there had been spring; today the sky had clouded over, the wind had risen, and everything had grown heavy.

"There will be cold and blizzards," the beggar Yakov declared with a shiver, sitting by the stove. "The river today is loud! The swell is running across it in waves! A bad sign!"

By long-standing custom, before the bringing-out of the Shroud2The Shroud (Plashchanitsa) — a large embroidered or painted cloth, usually on silk or velvet, depicting the body of Christ as it was laid in the tomb. It is the central sacred object of the Orthodox Holy Friday and Holy Saturday services. The "bringing-out" (vynos) is a solemn procession in which the Shroud is carried from the altar to the centre of the church and laid in a decorated tomb-structure (grobnitsa), where it remains for veneration until the Paschal midnight service. one was not supposed to eat or drink; the fire in the stove was not lit, the Paschal food was not prepared, so that the sight of rich fare would not cloud the soul with temptation.

"Do you know what name they gave to Pascha in the ancient tales?" Yakov asked me. "You don't. 'Bright-Dawn-Day.' Fine words the old folk had. Words full of wisdom!"

He lowered his head and sighed: "It is good to die at Paschaltide! You go straight to paradise. All sins are taken away!"

"Good it may be," I mused, "but it's a pity! All the same, one wants to break the fast first and eat all manner of good things… to watch the sun play3Watching the sun play — a widespread Slavic folk belief that on Pascha morning the sun "plays" in the sky at sunrise — shimmers, dances, or pulsates with coloured rays — as a sign of the Resurrection. Children and adults would go out before dawn to watch for this.… to roll eggs,4Rolling eggs — a traditional Russian Paschal game in which coloured hard-boiled eggs are rolled down a slope or along a groove, with players trying to knock one another's eggs. The exchange and gifting of red-dyed eggs at Pascha is one of the oldest and most universal Orthodox Easter customs in Russia. to ring the church bells!…"

At two o'clock in the afternoon people began to gather for the bringing-out of the Shroud. In the church stood the Lord's tomb,5The Lord's tomb (grobnitsa) — a decorated wooden structure, resembling a catafalque or sepulchre, set up in the centre of the church to receive the Shroud. It is typically adorned with fresh flowers, candles, and greenery. Worshippers come to venerate the Shroud and pray beside it on Great Friday and Great Saturday. adorned with flowers. To its left was placed a large old icon of the Lamentation of the Mother of God.6The icon of the Lamentation of the Mother of God — a specific iconographic type depicting the Virgin Mary weeping over the body of Christ taken down from the cross, often placed beside the tomb on Great Friday. Known in Greek as the Threnos, it corresponds to the Western Pietà. The Mother of God would look on as they buried Her Son, and weep…

And He would comfort Her with the words: "Weep not for Me, O Mother, beholding Me in the tomb… for I shall rise and be glorified…"7"Weep not for Me, O Mother…" — a troparion sung at the Friday Matins service, set to one of the most tender melodies in the Orthodox repertoire. Christ speaks to His Mother from the tomb, comforting Her with the promise of the Resurrection. The full text continues: "for I shall rise and be glorified, and as God I shall exalt in eternal glory those who magnify thee with faith and with love."

Vitka took his place beside me. His mischievous eyes and restless hands had grown still. He had somehow become serious and fallen into thought. Grishka came up to us too. His face and hands were smeared with paints of many colours.

"Why are you so daubed?" I asked him.

Grishka looked at his hands and answered proudly: "I've dyed a dozen eggs!"

"Your face is all streaked red and blue!" Vitka pointed out.

"Is it really? Spit on it and wipe it off!"

Vitka drew Grishka aside, spat into his palm, and began rubbing Grishka's face, smearing it even worse than before.

A girl with long fair plaits, who had taken her place not far from us, glanced at Grishka and laughed.

"Go and wash yourself," I whispered to him, "I can't bear to look at you. You're standing there like a zebra!"

From the kliros came the sticheron8Sticheron (stikhira) — a liturgical hymn in the Orthodox Church, typically longer and more elaborate than a troparion, sung between verses of psalms or at appointed moments of the service. The text quoted here ("All creation was transformed with fear…") draws on the Gospel accounts of the cosmic signs accompanying the Crucifixion: the darkening of the sun (Matthew 27:45) and the earthquake (Matthew 27:51). that explained to me why today there was no sun, why the birds were not singing, and why the swell was running across the river:

"All creation was transformed with fear, beholding Thee hanging upon the cross, O Christ. The sun was darkened and the foundations of the earth were shaken; all things suffered together with the Creator of all. O Lord, who of Thine own will didst endure all this for our sake, glory to Thee."

The time was drawing near for the bringing-out of the Shroud.

With a sound barely audible, clear as the lapping of a lake, touchingly and tenderly, they began to sing:

"Thee, who dost clothe Thyself in light as in a garment, Joseph took down from the tree together with Nicodemus; and seeing Thee dead, naked, and unburied, he raised up a compassionate lament…"9"Thee, who dost clothe Thyself in light as in a garment…" — the opening of the troparion "The Noble Joseph," sung as the Shroud is carried out. The image of Christ "clothing Himself in light as in a garment" (from Psalm 104:2) is placed against the image of His naked, unburied body — the contrast at the heart of the Paschal mystery. Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus, who took Christ's body down from the cross and buried it (John 19:38–42), are the central figures of Great Friday and Great Saturday hymnography.

From candle to candle the flame passed, and the whole church became like the first light of morning. I very much wanted to light my candle from the girl standing in front of me — the very one who had laughed at the sight of Grishka's face. Flustered and red, I touched my candle to her little flame, and my hand trembled. She glanced at me and blushed.

The priest and the deacon were censing around the altar table, on which the Shroud lay. To the singing of "The noble Joseph…" the bringing-out began, carrying it to the middle of the church, to the tomb prepared for it. The priest was helped to carry the Shroud by the distinguished citizens of the town, and I thought: "Why the distinguished? Christ loved the poor more!"

The priest delivered a sermon, and I thought again: "No words are needed now. Everything is understood, and it already hurts without them."

The involuntary sin of judging, committed before the tomb of the Lord, troubled me, and I said to myself: "I will not do that again."

When it was all over, people began to come forward to venerate the Shroud, and at that time they sang:

"Come, let us praise Joseph ever worthy of memory, who came to Pilate in the night… Give me this stranger, whom His treacherous disciple gave over to death…"10"Come, let us praise Joseph ever worthy of memory…" — a sticheron sung during the veneration of the Shroud. "Give me this stranger" are the words Joseph of Arimathea is imagined addressing to Pilate (echoing John 19:38). Christ is called "stranger" (strannik) in the sense of one who had no home, no kin to claim His body, no place of His own — a word that in Russian carries the additional resonance of a wandering pilgrim.

I walked home deep in thought, repeating the words that had entered into me: "We worship Thy Passion, O Christ, and Thy holy Resurrection…"

Holy Saturday1Holy Saturday is the day in the Christian calendar that falls between Good Friday, commemorating the crucifixion of Jesus, and Pascha (Easter Sunday), celebrating His resurrection. It is a day of quiet reflection and mourning, observing the time Jesus' body lay in the tomb. morning smelled of kulichi.2Kulichi (plural of kulich) are tall, cylindrical, yeast-leavened breads prepared for Pascha (Easter), traditionally baked in cans to achieve their shape. They are rich with eggs, butter, and dried fruits, typically glazed and decorated. Along with paskha (a molded cheese dessert), they are a central traditional food for celebrating Pascha in Slavic Orthodox Christian cultures. While we were still sleeping, Mother was busy at the stove. The room was tidied up for Pascha (Easter): snow-white curtains hung in the windows, and a long towel embroidered with little roosters hung on the icon of the Twelve Great Feasts3In Eastern Orthodox Christianity, the Twelve Great Feasts are the twelve most significant liturgical celebrations on the church calendar other than Pascha (Easter). They commemorate key events in the lives of Jesus Christ and the Virgin Mary, such as the Nativity, the Baptism of Christ, and the Annunciation. with the Resurrection of Christ in the center. It was about five in the morning, and an extraordinarily tender amber light filled the room, one I had never seen before. For some reason, I imagined that the Heavenly Kingdom was flooded with just such a light…

Seeing that I was awake, Mother bustled about. "Hurry up and get dressed! Wake your father. They will soon ring the bell for the Lord's Burial!"4"The Lord's Burial" refers to a specific, solemn church service held on Holy Saturday morning. It commemorates the entombment of Jesus Christ. The service centers around the Holy Shroud — a cloth icon depicting the body of Christ after being taken down from the cross — which is ceremonially carried in a procession around the church.

Never in my life had I seen such a magnificent miracle as this sunrise!

I asked my father, walking beside him along the resonant, fresh street: "Why do people sleep when the dawn is so beautiful?"

Father didn't answer, he only sighed. Looking at that morning, I wanted never to be parted from the earth, but to live on it forever — a hundred, two hundred, three hundred years — and for my parents to live just as long. And if we had to die, then there too, in the Lord's fields,5"The Lord's Fields" is a poetic phrase referring to the Christian conception of Heaven or Paradise. It evokes an image of a peaceful, bountiful, and divine landscape — God's own domain — where the souls of the faithful reside after death. we would not be separated but would be next to each other, looking down from the blue heights upon our little earth, where our life had passed, and remembering it.

"Dad! In the next world, will we all be together?"

Apparently not wanting to upset me, Father didn't answer directly, but obliquely (and he took my hand firmly): "You'll know too much. You'll grow old soon!" — and to himself he whispered with a sigh: "Our life of parting!"6"Our life of parting" — this poignant phrase expresses the idea that human life is fundamentally a series of separations and goodbyes. The father's sigh suggests a resigned acceptance of this painful, inevitable aspect of the human condition.

An extraordinary funeral service was being held over the tomb of Christ. Two priests took turns reading the "Blameless Ones,"7The "Blameless Ones" (in Church Slavonic, Neporochny) are a set of hymns and psalm verses sung during the Matins service for burials and on Holy Saturday. Their name comes from the opening verse, Psalm 119:1, "Blessed are the blameless in the way." These poetic verses mournfully and beautifully lament the death of Christ while simultaneously proclaiming the Christian hope of resurrection. mourning the Lord's death in wondrous words:

"O Jesus, the saving Light, You have hidden Yourself in a dark tomb: O unspeakable and unutterable patience!" "You have hidden beneath the earth, like the sun now, and were covered by the night of death, but shine forth, O Most Radiant Savior." "You have set, O Light-Giver, and with You the light of the sun has set." "Clothed in a robe of mockery, O Adorner of all, who established the heavens and wondrously adorned the earth!"

The choir singers came out from the choir loft. They stood in a semicircle around the Holy Shroud,8In the Eastern Orthodox Church, the Holy Shroud (Plashchanitsa) is a large, elaborately embroidered cloth icon depicting the body of Jesus Christ after He has been taken down from the cross. It is venerated as a symbolic representation of the tomb of Christ and is ceremonially carried in a funeral procession during the service of the Lord's Burial on Holy Saturday. and after the priest's exclamation, "Glory to Thee, who hast shown us the light!"9"Glory to Thee, who hast shown us the light!" — This exclamation by the priest is a traditional and pivotal moment in the daily Matins service. It is proclaimed at the conclusion of the Great Doxology, just as the sun is rising. In the context of Holy Saturday, this proclamation carries a profound double meaning: it acknowledges the literal sunrise, while being a bold affirmation of faith in the Resurrection of Christ, the ultimate divine Light. they began to sing the Great Doxology10The Great Doxology is an ancient and majestic hymn of praise sung near the conclusion of the Matins service. It begins with the angels' words from the Nativity, "Glory to God in the highest" (Luke 2:14). In the context of the Holy Saturday service, this hymn of light and glory creates a powerful, hopeful contrast with the funeral rites for Christ. — "Glory to God in the highest…"

The sun had now fully thrown off its morning garments and shone in all its wonder. Some flustered bird struck the windowpane with its beak, and beads of the night's snow ran down from the roofs.

During the singing of the funeral version of "Holy God, Holy Mighty, Holy Immortal," with its wailing melody, with lighted candles, they began to carry the Holy Shroud around the church, and at that time the bells began to peal.

Outside, not a breath of wind, no noise, the earth soft — soon it would be completely saturated with sun…

When we entered the church, everyone smelled of fresh apples.11The scent of fresh apples likely comes from the parishioners bringing baskets of food to the church to be blessed for the Pascha feast. Symbolically, the fresh, clean, joyful scent contrasts with the funeral nature of the service, foreshadowing the sweetness and renewal of the Resurrection.

I heard someone whisper to another: "Semygradsky will read!"

The drunken precentor,12The word "precentor" is an approximate translation of the Russian term псаломщик (psalomshchik). In 19th and early 20th century Russia, this minor cleric was the musical and administrative mainstay of the parish. He would regulate the singing and reading in the choir, coordinate the order of worship, and also functioned as the parish clerk. Valentin Semygradsky, an inhabitant of the flophouse,13A flophouse is a very cheap, run-down boarding house offering minimal accommodations, often just a bed in a communal dormitory. They were historically used by the destitute, transient, and alcoholics who could not afford regular housing. was famous for his rare "talent" for shaking listeners with his reading of the Old Testament passages14At this particular Eastern Orthodox service, there are many readings from the Old Testament, specially chosen for their symbolic or prophetic connection to the day being celebrated. The reading from Ezekiel about dry bones coming to life prophetically foreshadows Christ's Resurrection. and the Epistle.15In Christian liturgy, the Epistle is a reading from the New Testament letters written by the Apostles, such as Paul, Peter, John, and James. The content of the Epistle reading reflects the themes of the specific day or feast being celebrated. On major church holidays, he was hired by merchants for three rubles16The ruble is the official currency of Russia. Three rubles in pre-Revolutionary Russia was a small sum, indicating the modest payment made to the talented but destitute man. to read in the church. In a long frock coat resembling a cassock, Semygradsky, with a large book in his trembling hands, approached the Holy Shroud. His usually dark face, with its heavy, shaggy gaze, was now inspired and bright.

In a broad, strong, rolling tone, he proclaimed: "The reading from the Prophecy of Ezekiel…"

With emotion, and almost with fear, he read in his powerful voice about how the prophet Ezekiel saw a great field, strewn with human bones, and how he asked God in anguish: "Son of man! Can these bones live?" And before the eyes of the prophet it appeared — how the dead bones stirred, were clothed with living flesh and… a "great host" of those risen from the graves stood before him…17The vision of the Valley of Dry Bones from Ezekiel 37 is one of the most powerful prophecies of resurrection in the Old Testament. On Holy Saturday — a day suspended between death and life — this reading is chosen with perfect intent. It answers the unspoken question of the service: "Can life come from this death?" The image of bones rattling together and being clothed in flesh is both terrifying and glorious, a prefiguration of Christ's resurrection.

They returned from the Lord's Burial with candles. With this flame, Mother would light the lampada18A lampada is a special hanging or standing oil lamp lit before icons in Eastern Orthodox Christian homes and churches. Its continuous flame symbolizes unwavering faith, the presence of God, and prayer that is constantly being offered. in memory of our deceased relatives before the parental blessing of the Kazan Mother of God icon.19The Kazan Mother of God is one of the most revered and widespread icons in Russia. It depicts the Virgin Mary holding the Christ Child. According to tradition, the original icon was miraculously discovered in the city of Kazan in 1579. It is considered a powerful protector of Russia and a guide for individuals, often associated with blessings for the home and family. Two lights were already burning in the house. The third lampada — the largest and most beautiful, made of red glass — we would light before the Paschal Matins.20Paschal Matins is the magnificent and jubilant service that begins precisely at midnight, initiating the celebration of Pascha (Easter Sunday). It starts in a completely dark church, then at the moment proclaiming the Resurrection, all lights are lit. It is characterized by incessant joyful chanting, the repeated hymn "Christ is Risen!", and a procession around the church.

"If you're not tired," Mother said, preparing the paskha cheese dessert21A paskha cheese dessert is a traditional, rich Pascha (Easter) dessert made from fresh cheese (like farmer's cheese), butter, egg yolks, sugar, and dried fruits. It is molded into a tall, truncated pyramid shape, often with the carved letters "XB" (Russian abbreviation for "Christ is Risen") on the sides. ("Oh, if only the breaking of the fast22The term "breaking of the fast" refers to the celebratory meal after the long period of Lenten fasting. In the context of Orthodox Pascha (Easter), this follows Great Lent — a 40-day period of strict abstinence from meat, dairy, eggs, fish, oil, and wine — plus Holy Week, totaling 47 days. would come sooner!" I thought, looking at the sweet, tempting cheese), "then go to the Liturgy today. It will be a rare service! When you grow up, you will remember this service!"

On the table lay fragrant kulichi with pink paper flowers, red eggs23A central symbol of Orthodox Pascha, red-dyed eggs represent new life and the resurrection of Jesus Christ. The color red specifically symbolizes the blood of Christ shed on the cross, while the egg itself — a universal symbol of new life — represents His emergence from the tomb. and scattered pussy willow twigs.24In Slavic Orthodox traditions, pussy willow twigs are used on Palm Sunday and throughout Holy Week in place of palm branches. This is a practical adaptation, as palm trees do not grow in cold climates like Russia. The pussy willow, with its soft catkins that appear in early spring, serves as a local symbol of renewal and life. All of this was illuminated by the sun, and I felt so happy that I began to sing: "Tomorrow is Pascha! The Lord's Pascha!"

On that day, from the very first light of morning, it seemed to me that the old shed across from our window had somehow renewed itself. I began to look at the houses, the fences, the front garden, the stack of birch logs under the lean-to, at the broom with its blue-grey twigs in the sunlit hands of the yardkeeper Davydka — and they too seemed renewed. Even the cobblestones in the road were different. But the roosters and hens looked most joyful of all. There was something Paschal in them.

The room was thick with the smell of the approaching Pascha. Helping my mother with the cooking, I knocked a pot of boiled rice off onto the floor, and they shooed me out of the house:

"Go to the Liturgy instead!" my mother urged me on my way. "The service today will be one of a kind… I have told you before: when you grow up, you will remember this service all your life…"

I called in on Grishka to invite him to church as well, but he refused: "I won't go anywhere with you today! You called me a striped zebra at the bringing-out of the Shroud! Was it my fault that I got smeared with egg dye then?"

On that day the church seemed somehow brightened, even though the Shroud still lay in its place and the clergy served in their black burial vestments1Black burial vestments — in the Russian Orthodox tradition, the liturgical colour for Great Friday and Great Saturday is black (or very dark purple), signifying mourning and death. The sudden change to white during the Holy Saturday Liturgy, described later in the story, is one of the most dramatic moments of the entire liturgical year. — yet from the sunlight lying across the church floor, Pascha was already coming. The Hours2The Hours (Chasy) — short liturgical services of the Orthodox Church, corresponding to the ancient Jewish times of prayer (the first, third, sixth, and ninth hours of the day, roughly 6 a.m., 9 a.m., noon, and 3 p.m.). On Holy Saturday they are read beside the Shroud. The people waiting on the ambo to make their confession are preparing to receive Communion at the Liturgy: in the Orthodox Church, confession is normally required before communion. were being read beside the Shroud, and many people stood on the ambo waiting to make their confession.

Before the start of the Liturgy I went out into the churchyard. On a long bench sat a group of worshippers listening to a long-robed old man in leather galoshes:

"God is wondrous in His saints," he rounded out his thorny words. "Take for example the Venerable Macarius of Alexandria, whose memory we celebrate on the nineteenth of January…3The Venerable Macarius of Alexandria (died c. 394) — an Egyptian desert father and ascetic, venerated as a saint in the Orthodox Church. His feast day is indeed 19 January (Old Style). The story of the she-bear and the blind cub is found in the early collections of sayings and lives of the Desert Fathers. The she-bear subsequently brought Macarius a sheepskin, which according to tradition was passed down for generations and eventually reached St. Melania the Elder. One day a she-bear came to him in his desert hermitage, bringing her cub. She laid the cub at the feet of the saint and seemed to weep…"

"What sort of riddle is this?" the Venerable thought to himself. He bent down to the little creature and saw: it was blind! The bear cub! The Venerable understood why the she-bear had come to him. His heart was moved with tenderness; he made the sign of the cross over the little blind one, stroked it — and a miracle came to pass: the cub received its sight!

"Well, I never!" someone said from the heart.

"That is not all," the old man nodded his head, "the next day the she-bear brought a sheepskin. She laid it at the feet of the Venerable Macarius and said to him with her eyes: 'Take this as a gift from me, in gratitude for your kindness'…"

The Liturgy of Holy Saturday4The Liturgy of Holy Saturday — one of the most ancient and theologically rich services of the Orthodox year. It commemorates Christ lying in the tomb and descending into Hades to free the souls of the righteous dead. Uniquely, it begins with a Vespers service (the singing of evening psalms and "O Gladsome Light") before transitioning into the Liturgy of St. Basil the Great. The sixteen Old Testament readings (paremii) take the place of the usual Epistle readings and unfold the entire story of salvation as a preparation for the Resurrection. was truly one of a kind. It began in the manner of an All-Night Vigil, with the singing of evening hymns. When "O Gladsome Light"5"O Gladsome Light" (Svete tikhiy) — one of the oldest surviving Christian hymns, sung at every Vespers service in the Orthodox Church as the evening lamp is lit. Its text greets Christ as the "Gladsome Light" or "Gentle Light" of the Holy Glory of the immortal Heavenly Father. Hearing it on Holy Saturday, as the last evening before Pascha, carries a particular depth. had been sung, a reader came out to the Shroud in a black sticharion and laid upon the lectern a large book splashed with candle-wax.

He began to read, beside the tomb of the Lord, the sixteen Old Testament readings.6The sixteen Old Testament readings (paremii) — a series of sixteen passages from the Old Testament, read consecutively during the Holy Saturday Liturgy. They include the creation narrative from Genesis, the crossing of the Red Sea from Exodus, the sacrifice of Isaac, passages from Isaiah, Ezekiel, Daniel, and other prophets foretelling the Passion, death, and Resurrection of Christ. After each group of readings, the choir sings the Song of the Three Holy Children from the Book of Daniel ("Sing to the Lord and exalt Him above all for ever"). For more than an hour he read: of the crossing of the Israelites through the Red Sea, of the sacrifice of Isaac, of the prophets who had seen across the centuries the coming of the Saviour, His suffering on the cross, His burial, His Resurrection… The long reading of the prophecies the reader concluded with a high, drawn-out chant:

"Sing to the Lord and exalt Him above all for ever…"

This served as a kind of alarm bell. At the kliros there was a stir, a rustle of music sheets, and suddenly the choir burst forth in a rolling wave:

"Sing to the Lord and exalt Him above all for ever…"

The choir repeated this song several times, while the reader called out through the singing words that brought to my mind a phrase I had once heard: "words woven by God."

Bless Him, O sun and moon,
Bless Him, O rain and dew,
Bless Him, O nights and days,
Bless Him, O lightning and clouds,
Bless Him, O seas and rivers,
Bless Him, O birds of the air,
Bless Him, O beasts and all cattle.7"Bless Him, O sun and moon…" — verses from the Song of the Three Holy Children (also known as the Benedicite), inserted in the Greek and Slavonic Book of Daniel (chapter 3), sung by Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego from within the fiery furnace. The passage calls on all of creation — the heavens, the elements, every living creature — to praise God, which is why the story of the she-bear leaps into the boy's mind at the words "Bless Him, O beasts."

Before my eyes rose the she-bear with the blind cub who had come to Saint Macarius:

"Bless Him, O beasts!…"

"Let us sing to the Lord, for He is gloriously glorified!"8"Let us sing to the Lord, for He is gloriously glorified!" — the refrain of the Song of the Sea (Exodus 15:1), sung by Moses and the Israelites after the crossing of the Red Sea. Its jubilant tone, breaking through the mourning of Holy Saturday, is experienced as a foretaste of the Resurrection. It is Pascha! It is Pascha thundering in those God-woven words: Sing to the Lord and exalt Him above all for ever!

After the reading of the Epistle,9The Epistle (Apostol) — the reading from the Acts of the Apostles or the Epistles of St. Paul that forms part of every Orthodox Divine Liturgy. On Holy Saturday the Epistle reading is from the Letter to the Romans (6:3–11), on baptism into Christ's death and resurrection — a passage directly connected to the ancient practice of baptising catechumens at the Holy Saturday Liturgy. three singers in blue kaftans came out to the Shroud. They made a prostration before Him who lay in the tomb and sang:

"Arise, O God, judge the earth, for Thou shalt inherit all nations."10"Arise, O God, judge the earth…" — Psalm 82:8, sung as the clergy change their vestments from black to white. In the context of Holy Saturday it is heard as a direct address to Christ lying in the tomb: a call to rise and to judge — and simultaneously a proclamation that the Resurrection is already happening, unseen, in the silence of the tomb. This moment is the emotional and theological turning-point of the entire service.

During the singing, the clergy in the altar were removing their black Passion vestments and vesting themselves in white. From the altar table, the table of oblation, and the lecterns, the black coverings were taken away and replaced with white silver brocade.

This was so unexpected and wondrous that I wanted to run home at once and tell my mother about all of it…

Try as I might to restrain my rapture, I could do nothing with myself.

"I must tell mother… this very minute!"

I ran home out of breath and cried out from the doorstep:

"In the church everything is white! They took away the black, and all around — nothing but white… and in general — it is Pascha!"

I wanted to add something more, but could not find the words, and ran back to the church. There they were already singing the special Cherubic Hymn,11The special Cherubic Hymn of Holy Saturday — on ordinary Sundays and weekdays the Cherubic Hymn ("We who mystically represent the Cherubim…") is sung during the Great Entrance. On Holy Saturday it is replaced by this ancient hymn, "Let all mortal flesh keep silence," adapted from a prayer in the Liturgy of St. James of Jerusalem. Its text, addressed to Christ coming to offer Himself in the Eucharist, is one of the most awe-inspiring in all of Orthodox liturgical poetry. which went on ringing in my ears until the coming of dusk:

Let all mortal flesh keep silence
and stand with fear and trembling,
and let it take no thought for any earthly thing.
For the King of kings and Lord of lords
cometh forth to be slain
and to give Himself as food to the faithful…

The liturgical hymn of the day was fading over the earth: "Let all mortal flesh keep silence, and with fear and trembling stand…"1This hymn is sung annually in the Orthodox Church on Holy Saturday. It encapsulates the moment of holy stillness, calling all humanity to stand in awe before the mystery of Christ's descent into death and His imminent triumph over it.

The evening earth grew quiet. Homes were opening the glass fronts of their icon corners.2An icon corner is a dedicated space in a traditional Orthodox Christian home, typically on an eastern wall, where icons (sacred images of Christ and the saints) are displayed for prayer. Opening the glass doors on a major feast like Pascha is a symbolic gesture, signifying the opening of the heavenly kingdom and direct, unimpeded access to God. I asked my father: "What's that for?" "As a sign that on Pascha,3Pascha is an Eastern Orthodox term for Easter — the annual celebration of the resurrection of Jesus. the doors of paradise are opened!"

Before the start of the Matins4In this story, the author is specifically referring to the very special Paschal Matins service, which takes place in Orthodox churches every year at midnight on Pascha (Easter). For Orthodox Christians, it is the greatest and most joyous celebration of the entire year. service, my father and I wanted to get some sleep, but we couldn't. We lay next to each other on the bed, and he told me about how, as a boy, he had to celebrate Pascha in Moscow.

"Moscow's Pascha, son, is mighty! Whoever has seen it once will remember it until the grave. At midnight, the first strike of the bell from the Ivan the Great bell tower5The Ivan the Great bell tower contains a set of bells. Its largest bell, cast in 1817, weighs approximately 65 tons. The figure of 6,000 poods in the story is a traditional exaggeration, used to emphasize the bell's legendary, earth-shaking power in the cultural imagination. booms, it's as if the sky with all its stars is falling to the earth! And that bell, son, weighs six thousand poods,6A pood is an obsolete Russian unit of mass equal to approximately 36.1 pounds (16.38 kilograms). The father is exaggerating, emphasizing the colossal size and earth-shaking power of the great bell. and it took twelve men to swing its clapper!7A clapper is a pendulum-like object suspended inside a bell that strikes against the bell's inner wall to produce the sound. In the context of the massive bell described, its great weight is why the story mentions it took twelve men to set it in motion. The first strike was timed to the chiming of the clock on the Spasskaya Tower…"

Father raised himself up in bed and spoke of Moscow with a tremor in his voice: "Yes… the clock on the Spasskaya Tower… They would strike it — and immediately a rocket would soar into the sky… followed by a gun salute from the old cannons on the Taynitskaya Tower — one hundred and one shots!…"

"Ivan the Great spreads out over Moscow like a sea, and the other forty times forty8The phrase "forty times forty" is a traditional Russian expression meaning an innumerably large amount. Moscow was historically famous for its many churches, and "forty times forty" evokes the image of a vast, uncountable sea of churches all ringing their bells at once. churches echo it, like rivers in flood! Such power, I tell you, flows over the Primatial City,9"Primatial City" refers to Moscow's historical status as the seat of the Primate — the leading bishop or patriarch. Moscow is home to the main seat of the Russian Orthodox Church, the Dormition Cathedral, where patriarchs were inaugurated and tsars and emperors were crowned. that you don't seem to be walking, but are rocking on the waves like a tiny splinter! A mighty night, like the thunder of the Lord! Ah, son, words cannot depict Pascha in Moscow!"

Father fell silent and closed his eyes.

"Are you falling asleep?" "No. I'm looking at Moscow." "Where is it for you?" "Before my eyes. As if alive…" "Tell me something else about Pascha!"

"I also had the chance to celebrate Easter in a monastery. In its simplicity and holy splendor, it was even better than Moscow's! Just imagine that monastery! All around — untrodden forest, animal trails, and by the monastery walls — a river splashes. The taiga10The taiga is the vast, dense, snowforest biome that stretches across northern Russia, Canada, and Scandinavia. Taiga trees are the hardy, cold-adapted conifers that dominate this landscape, primarily spruces, pines, firs, and larches. trees and the church, built from strong, resinous logs, are reflected in it. A great multitude of pilgrims gathered here from the surrounding villages for the Bright Matins.11Bright Matins is the solemn and joyful Orthodox Christian service held at midnight on Easter Sunday morning. It follows a procession around the church and is filled with triumphant hymns proclaiming the Resurrection of Christ. There was a rare custom here. After Matins, girls would go down to the river with candles, sing 'Christ is Risen,' bow deeply to the river water, and then stick their candles to a wooden disk and take turns setting them afloat on the river. There was a sign: if the Pascha candle does not go out, the girl will get married, but if it goes out — she will remain a bitter old maid!

"Just imagine, what a marvel it was there! In the middle of the night, a hundred lights float on the water, and meanwhile the bells are ringing, and the forest is rustling!"

"That's enough chatting for you," our mother interrupted us, "you'd better get some sleep, or you'll be standing at Matins like sleepyheads!"

I was in no mood for sleep. My soul was seized by a premonition of something inexplicably vast, resembling either Moscow, or a hundred candles floating down a forest river.

A full two hours until Matins, but the churchyard was already full of kids.

The night was without a single star, without wind, and somehow frightening in its unusualness and vastness. Kulich cakes12Kulich is a tall, cylindrical, sweet bread baked especially for Pascha. The phrase "in white headscarves" is a poetic visual description: the women carrying the kulich to church for the blessing service would have been wearing traditional white headscarves, making the loaves seem to float through the dark streets as their most visible feature. in white headscarves floated along the dark street — they alone were visible; the people themselves seemed not to be there.

In the semi-dark church, a line of eager readers stood by the Holy Shroud,13The Holy Shroud (Plashchanitsa) is a large, embroidered cloth depicting the body of Christ after the Crucifixion, lying in the tomb. In Orthodox services on Good Friday and Holy Saturday, it is venerated as a central focal point, representing the burial of Christ, before being ceremonially taken into the altar to await the Resurrection. waiting to read the Acts of the Apostles. I joined them too. They asked me: "Do you know how to read?" "I do." "Well, then you start first!"

I approached the analogion14An analogion is a standing lectern or slanted desk used in Eastern Orthodox churches to hold icons, gospel books, or other religious texts for veneration or reading during services. and began to sound out syllabically: "The former treatise have I made, O Theophilus,"15The boy is attempting to read the opening verse of the book of Acts in the New Testament. This book is addressed to a person named "Theophilus." The boy's struggle with the formal, Church Slavonic text and the name "Theophilus" highlights his youthful eagerness to participate in the sacred ritual, contrasting with his still-developing skill. — and I simply couldn't pronounce "Theophilus." I got flustered, embarrassedly lowered my head and stopped reading. Someone came over to me and scolded: "Why are you pushing in when you can't read?" "I wanted to try!" "You'd better try the kulich," — and they pushed me aside.

I couldn't stand still in the church. I went out into the yard and sat on the church steps.

"Where is Pascha right now?" I wondered. "Is it hovering in the sky, or is it walking outside the city, in the forest, over swamp hummocks, pine needles, snowdrops, along heather and juniper paths, and what form does it take?" I remembered someone's story that on the night of Christ's Bright Resurrection, a ladder descends from heaven to earth, and upon it, the Lord descends to us with the holy apostles, venerable fathers, passion-bearers, and martyrs. The Lord walks the earth, blessing the fields, forests, lakes, rivers, birds, people, animals, and everything created by His holy will, and the saints sing 'Christ is Risen from the dead'… The song of the saints scatters like seeds upon the earth, and from these seeds, the delicate, fragrant lilies of the valley spring up in the forests…

Time was approaching midnight. The churchyard was buzzing more and more thickly with talk. Someone came out of the church watchman's hut16The church watchman's hut (or storozhka in Russian) was a small building or cabin located within the churchyard. Its primary function was to house the church watchman — a custodian responsible for the security of the church property, ringing the bells for services, and performing maintenance tasks. with a lantern.

"He's coming, he's coming!" the kids shouted frantically, clapping their hands. "Who's coming?" "The bell-ringer, Leksandra! He's about to boom!"

And he boomed…

From the first strike of the bell, it was as if a large silver wheel rolled across the earth, and when its hum passed, another rolled, followed by a third, and the night Pascha darkness began to spin in the silver humming of all the town's churches.

The beggar Yakov noticed me in the darkness. "The light-proclaiming peal!" he said and crossed himself several times.

In the church, they began to serve the Great Midnight Office.17The Great Midnight Office is a solemn service in the Eastern Orthodox Church, traditionally served late on the night of Holy and Great Saturday, immediately before the procession and festivities of Pascha begin. During this service, the Plashchanitsa — a cloth icon depicting Christ's body prepared for burial — is carried in a solemn procession around the church and then taken into the altar, symbolizing Christ's descent into hell and His imminent victory over death. They sang "By the wave of the sea." The priests in white vestments lifted the Holy Shroud and carried it into the altar, where it would lie on the altar table until the Feast of the Ascension.18The Feast of the Ascension commemorates the bodily ascent of Jesus Christ into heaven forty days after his Resurrection on Pascha (Easter Sunday). In the story, the Plashchanitsa (the burial shroud) is taken into the altar on Pascha and remains there until this feast day, symbolizing Christ's physical presence with his disciples during the forty days before his Ascension. The heavy golden tomb structure was moved aside with a rumble to its usual place, and in that rumble there was also something significant, Pascha-like — as if a huge stone was being rolled away from the Lord's tomb.

I saw my father and mother. I went up to them and said: "I will never offend you!" I pressed close to them and exclaimed loudly: "How joyful it is!"

And the Pascha joy kept expanding, like the Volga in flood, which father had often told me about. The tall banners began to sway like spring trees in a sunny breeze. They began to prepare for the procession around the church. From the altar, they brought out the silver processional cross, the golden Gospel, the huge round bread — the artos; the raised icons seemed to smile, and everyone lit their red Pascha candles.19Red Pascha candles are special candles used in Eastern Orthodox churches during the Pascha services and throughout the subsequent 40-day season. The color red symbolizes the blood of Christ shed for salvation and the triumphant, joyous flame of His Resurrection.

A silence fell. It was transparent and so light — if you blew on it, it would quiver like a spider's web. And within this silence, they began to sing: "Thy Resurrection, O Christ Saviour, the angels sing in heaven." And to the sound of this uplifting song, the procession began to stream forth with lights. Someone stepped on my foot, and dripped wax on my head, but I hardly felt anything and thought: "That's how it's supposed to be." — "Pascha! The Lord's Pascha!" — sunbeams danced in my soul.

Pressed closely together, in the night darkness, along the streams of the resurrection song, showered with the pealing of bells and warmed by the little flames of the candles, we walked around the church, white-seen from a hundred lights, and stopped in expectation before the tightly closed doors. The bells fell silent. My heart held its breath. My face flushed with heat. The earth had disappeared somewhere — you weren't standing on it, but as if on the blue heavens. And the people? Where were they? Everyone had turned into jubilant Pascha candles!

And then that vast thing, which I couldn't grasp at first — happened! They began to sing "Christ is Risen from the dead."

They sang "Christ is Risen" three times, and the tall doors swung open before us. We entered the resurrected church — and before our eyes, in the radiance of the chandeliers, the large and small icon lamps, in the glints of silver, gold, precious stones on the icons, in the bright paper flowers on the kulich — the Lord's Pascha flashed into view! The priest, enveloped in incense smoke, with a radiant face, exclaimed brightly and loudly: "Christ is Risen!" — and the people answered him with a roar like heavy, icy snow falling from a height: "Indeed He is Risen!"

Grishka20The name Grishka (Гришка) is a familiar, diminutive, or informal form of the Russian male name Grigory (Григорий), which is the equivalent of Gregory in English. It is akin to a nickname like "Greg." appeared nearby. I took his hands and said: "Tomorrow I'll give you a red egg!21A central symbol of Orthodox Pascha, red-dyed eggs represent new life and the resurrection of Jesus Christ. The tradition is rooted in the story that after Christ's resurrection, Mary Magdalene presented a red egg to the Roman Emperor Tiberius, declaring "Christ is risen!" The boy's promise to give Grishka the "very best" red egg is a heartfelt expression of friendship within the shared joy of the Pascha celebration. The very best one! Christ is Risen!"

Fedka was standing not far away too. I promised him a red egg as well. I saw the yardkeeper David, went up to him and said: "I will never call you 'the sweeper martyr' again.22The phrase "sweeper martyr" is the narrator's childhood nickname for David, the church groundskeeper — a melodramatic, slightly mocking title invented by the local children. The narrator's promise to stop using this nickname is a sign of his personal growth and the sincere, forgiving spirit of the Pascha holiday. Christ is Risen!"

And through the church, the words of the Paschal Canon flew like lightning. Every word a spark of merry, quick fire: "Let the heavens worthily rejoice, let the earth be glad, and let the whole world, visible and invisible, keep festival. For Christ is risen, eternal joy…"

My heart skipped a beat with joy — near the ambo,23The ambo is a raised platform or lectern in the center of an Eastern Orthodox church, traditionally in front of the iconostasis. It is from the ambo that the Scriptures are read, the Gospel is proclaimed, and the priest delivers sermons. I saw the girl with the fair braids whom I had noticed during the bringing out of the Shroud! Not acting like myself, I went up to her, and all blushing, lowering my eyes, I whispered: "Christ is Risen!"

She became flustered and dropped her little candle from her hands. It reached for me with a quiet flame. And we exchanged the Pascha greeting24It is a traditional greeting among Orthodox Christians on Pascha to kiss each other on the cheek three times while saying, "Christ is risen! Indeed He is risen!" — including the traditional three kisses on the cheek — and then we became so embarrassed that we stood for a long time with our heads bowed.

And at that time, from the ambo, the Paschal sermon of John Chrysostom25The Paschal sermon of John Chrysostom is a famous, deeply beloved homily read aloud in every Eastern Orthodox church near the conclusion of the Easter Sunday liturgy. Its core message is one of universal forgiveness and joyous inclusion, proclaiming that all — whether devout or lax — should enter into the feast and celebrate the Resurrection of Christ. thundered: "If any be pious and God-loving, let him enjoy this good and bright festival… Christ is risen, and life reigns!"