The Convent of the Nativity of the Theotokos is very close to the Brest Fortress: about 300 yards from the famous Kholm Gate, riddled with bullets and shrapnel. According to observations of the convent’s sisters, suffering souls often come here. They come for consolation from far and wide, not only from Belarus: pilgrims from as far as Vladivostok, for instance, were very reluctant to leave the convent. They say it was worth travelling such a long distance; “It’s not just about tourism—your soul is transformed here.”
The convent’s abbess, Mother Alexandra (Zharin), smiles: “Actually, this is what we live and serve for.” Abbess Alexandra has talked a little about the life of the convent, which was revived on the ancient Orthodox land twenty-three years ago.
—There are thirty-seven nuns at the convent now. We have a fairly good library, a Sunday school (children love it very much), sewing and gold–embroidery workshops, and, of course, a vegetable garden—we can’t do without it! In the Belovezhskaya Pushcha national park the convent has St. Nicholas’ Dependency—thanks to it the once remote farmstead of Vezhnoye has been preserved; now there are flower gardens, a candle workshop, a cowshed, and a hotel there. Thank God, we are laboring.
Our convent has very good relations with the community of the Church of St. Spyridon of Tremithus in Corfu. It began even before the holy hierarch’s relics were brought to Belarus and Russia. First I was invited to visit Corfu, then priests from the parish of St. Spyridon came to us and we prayed together to the saint; then his relics visited us, and that’s how we saw that a spiritual bond had appeared. We know and feel that the holy hierarch helps us greatly through his prayers. It was a great honor for the convent to make vestments for the altar table of St. Spyridon’s Church—the sisters sewed them in our workshop, which has been here since the first years of our convent; now we are providing the whole diocese with vestments. And, as it turned out later, the Greeks appreciated our work so much that, having vested the altar table, they covered it with an extra cloth as a precaution—they remove it only on the great feasts so that everything around can shine! Of course, we are very happy. I repeat, the help of the holy hierarch is always felt.
You rejoice when you personally understand that for Christ and His saints, earthly boundaries actually do not exist. I remember the words of the abbess of the convent where I first came as a nun: “Saints Nicholas and Spyridon are defenders of Orthodoxy—do not forget about them, sisters!” And back then we knew very little about St. Spyridon, and some even wondered why we always served him the Vigil—of course, now everything has become clear.
—In your opinion, what is the point of “traveling with relics”? I will not touch upon the subject of accusations of abuse—just what is the point of bringing such-and-such a shrine to such-and-such a location in such-and-such a country? What do you think? Wouldn’t it be more logical to make efforts and fly/go/walk to the place where a shrine is located?
—I think, firstly, it is quite difficult now in our dangerous time, with its restrictions, sanctions, high prices and everything else, to fly or travel somewhere on your own—it seems it would be much easier if relics get closer to you through the efforts of other people and by the grace of God. And you will use the money that you would have spent on an expensive trip (say, to the Holy Land, Corfu, etc.) to help the poor, for example, in your hometown or native village. This is one of the educational components of “traveling with relics”.
Secondly, if a person is seriously interested in what relics are, what sanctity is, if he feels a sincere desire for it, then he will inevitably (sometimes perhaps imperceptibly) change. Here is a story from our convent.
One day a married couple came to our little church. The wife was crying, and her husband was terribly distraught. No, it was not hysterical crying, but obviously deep feeling. First they prayed, then came up to me and told me the following: Her husband had a powerful company and they worked conscientiously. Then all sorts of conflicts began. This meant not only imminent bankruptcy of the company and the family itself (they could have become beggars), but also long-term imprisonment. It was at that terrible moment, almost in despair, that they heard about St. Spyridon and started praying hard to him, begging for his intercession. Crying with joy, they said that at the very last moment all charges against them were dropped and the case was resolved in their favor. Feeling a little shy, they wondered if we had an icon of St. Spyridon at the convent. “No, we don’t have his icon yet,” I replied. They were delighted, “Can we donate his icon to the convent? Please don’t buy it, okay? We will order it especially for you—we really want to thank Christ and His saint!” That’s how we acquired an icon of St. Spyridon of Tremithus. As I said, having sincerely begun feeling a “taste for holiness”, people change. This family now comes to almost every service at the convent, trying their best to help other people. So I am very cautious in my judgments, and I will certainly think twice before condemning the practice of “traveling relics”—everything is much more serious than it might seem at first glance, and not everything is so bad, right?
And how many miracles occur during the stay of relics in a place where they are greeted with faith—genuine miracles that change human souls and lives for the good! I think the question is whether or not those who approach holy relics have faith and trust in God.
—For Christians, miracles are familiar. I’m afraid sometimes it’s “routine” for some and perceived without due joy and gratitude. It’s like, “Thank You, Lord, for the miracle! You helped me—see You next time,” and the person lies down on his sofa. In your opinion and based on your experience, what is dangerous about such a routine perception of God’s help and ingratitude to God?
—First of all, it seems to me that this way you deprive yourself of this very help from God—Christ can no longer help you if, as you said, you are lying on the sofa, unwilling to lift a finger to mend your ways with the help of the grace of God. A miracle, a Divine intervention in our lives always aims to bring us closer to Heaven. How will you get closer to Heaven while lying on the sofa is a big question.
—Do you think doubts and temptations on our path to Christ are useful?
—If they (these doubts) are honest, then they are certainly useful. In my opinion, then temptations purify us and help us ask Christ difficult but honest questions.
—In other words, you shouldn’t be afraid to appear silly in the eyes of God?
—What’s to be afraid of? God already knows our true worth! We should understand it ourselves.
—You are very careful when giving advice that you are sometimes asked for.
—Exactly. How can I do without caution in such important matters! For example, I categorically refuse to give any advice or recommendations regarding family life. You see, all my life I wanted to be a nun, I’ve been at the convent since my youth (since 1988). What do I understand about family life? Therefore, when people ask me such questions, I immediately refer them to married priests who are well versed in such matters. Everyone has their own path to God. Monasticism is for some, family life is for others, and these paths should not be mixed up. Both of them are difficult and beautiful, but in their own way.
—You have been at the convent since 1988—still the Soviet era. I heard that the Soviet Government wanted to make Belarus a totally atheistic republic, like Albania. Is that true?
—Not exactly so. The atheists failed to turn Orthodox Belarus into a “scorched earth”, largely because of the Belarusians’ faithfulness to Orthodoxy as they remembered what consequences renunciation of the faith has. It is no coincidence that the Venerable Martyr Athanasius of Brest (†1648) is so venerated here in the west of the republic, since he suffered for Christ during the Roman Catholic expansion, the cruel oppression of the Orthodox in Rzeczpospolita in the seventeenth century. But the “scorched earth” plans really existed—they concerned the Vitebsk region, and it was scary. In Western Belarus, despite the considerable Catholic influence, Orthodoxy was strong, and the terror of the atheists was not as terrible in these lands as it was in the east before the war. My father, a priest, came from these parts, and I remember that almost every village in Western Belarus had (even in the Soviet era) its own strong parish and church. There were few churches in cities and towns, but there were many rural ones. In 1961 the authorities closed two convents: in Polotsk and Grodno, and the sisters were relocated from there to Zhirovitsy. Many orphans lived in the Grodno Convent; there was an orphanage there, and after the First World War and the Great Patriotic War (1941–1945) the orphans stayed there, many later becoming nuns. Therefore, when the convent was closed, the sisters simply had nowhere to go—only to Zhirovitsy. They lived there between 1961 and the 1990s. Moreover, the monastery was for both monks and nuns—the brothers lived in one building, and the sisters in the other.
—What a mockery!
—But at least the metropolitan managed to convince the authorities to provide housing for the orphans. Anyway, we lived in Zhirovitsy until 1990, when we moved to Polotsk. And what a horror it was when we saw the disastrous consequences of atheistic rule—only one small church (it was built by Venerable Euphrosyne of Polotsk herself in the twelfth century—next year it will celebrate its millennium) in the whole town and two districts! And it was the same situation was throughout the Vitebsk region—one church for every two districts. We were used to the fact that churches were packed at every service, as was the case in the Brest region, that Orthodoxy was absolutely natural for people, and they were not ashamed of their faith. But what we saw there was utter desolation: not only external, but also internal—true spiritual decay. Initially, there were more nuns at the church than parishioners. The old nuns were sitting and weeping. But then, thank God, people decided to get baptized and awakened spiritually. Three generations were baptized—grandparents, parents and grandchildren. Of course, now everything is absolutely different there; old churches have been restored, new ones have been built, the convent has developed—we already have 140 sisters—and people no longer imagine Belarus without monasteries and churches…
—It would follow that even hard times are not a reason for Christians to panic.
—No, that’s not our slogan. Hard times are a result of our sins and a reason for repentance and reform. We need to have trust in God, and not panick. If there is trust in Christ and a longing for Him, He will definitely sort everything out.
—The martyric struggle of the Venerable Martyr Athanasius of Brest, who like many other Orthodox Christians at different times was martyred by Uniates, is especially felt here, at the very border. What inspired (and still inspires) people to make great sacrifices, and even lay down their lives, for their faith?
—Faith makes them do it, faithfulness to Christ. It seems to me that among the many reasons is a categorical refusal by the Orthodox to adapt the faith to their weaknesses instead of fighting them. To put it simply, exalting personal comfort almost to a religious level and worshipping it instead of Christ. “If Christ tries to push me out of my comfort zone, so much the worse for Christ”—that’s how I can describe briefly the essence of the confrontation that has lasted a thousand years. In the name of personal comfort, bloody sacrifices have been made, with people shamefully abandoning fundamental things, beliefs, and their own reason. These are the consequences of people-pleasing, worshipping your own passions. Let’s recall the indignation and opposition of the Orthodox brotherhoods of Western Russia [now in Ukraine and Belorus] to the sixteenth century Unia, including the Brest Brotherhood: the Orthodox were terribly persecuted by the secular authorities of Rzeczpospolita, the Catholics and Uniates. People were humiliated, deprived of their civil rights, tortured and killed, but they remained faithful to Orthodoxy. A person cannot accept such hardships and death if it is only about the rites—everything is much more important.
And the border is very noticeable here. Not so much material as mental and religious. The border runs through the heart.
—In your opinion, what is a real miracle?
—It’s repentance. I have seen how people change, how God helps them become Christians. Without bluster, fanfare or pomp—quiet, but radiant and powerful repentance. This is a genuine miracle.
