Painting by Leonid Baranov
Just because you take it easy doesn’t mean you’re lazy. The art of taking it easy is an amazing science. I must admit, mastering it was really challenging. We failed over and over again here, like nobody’s business… I remember how we enthusiastically condemned, let’s say, the parents who according to our righteous and enlightened opinion, are improperly raising their children. Even though we were “knee-high to a mosquito” ourselves, not to mention that we had no children of our own. “If that were my child, I’d show him a thing or two!” is often heard from indignant, young parishioners when they witness the inappropriate—in their opinion—behavior of small children and teenagers and their parents’ failed appeals to correct them. Teenagers, in general, are really quite a nuisance; they don’t sleep at home, they no longer attend church services, and they are always into all kinds of mischief. “But we, when we were younger…”
“Right, tell me more, what were you ‘when you were younger?’ I recall one old lady asking us. She sat there quietly and calmly in the refectory, listening to our lofty conversations about “reasoning, not condemning,” and then she just couldn’t help it. “Were you any better? Now, think back yourselves, try to remember.”
We glared daggers in response at this poor old lady: “What do you mean?!” The old lady smiled sadly.
“Alright, alright. You’ll remember it later.”
Our indignation was boundless. Some “old lady” has got it into her head to teach us about life! Harumph!
Then our resentment gradually died down. It took time, of course. We all got married in turns, and strangely enough, children were born one after another to those marriages... And guess what? It turns out that parenting is not such an easy thing! And, despite your piety, your teenager is acting just the same as the teenagers whose parents, if I remember correctly, we were eager to mentor concerning trifling things and family life in general. Well, our children acted just the same way, or even worse, as they got into mischief, stared nonstop at their phones, broke away from home, got tattoos, took off their crosses—saying they’ll sort it out themselves—while we parents should mind our own business. Some even got married young. This was often followed by inevitable divorces, scandals, and alimony. Yes of course, those Orthodox young people just “couldn’t get along…” It really hurts.
And so there we were one day, standing now furrowed and graying, in the narthex after the service, talking about the old days, horrified about today. The youth in sticharia and cassocks stared daggers at us—again displeased with us. “Look at them showing up here, younglings in tow making all that noise! See, that one there has an older daughter—I don’t even want to talk about her,” one subdeacon aged barely sixteen said to another in a hushed voice. Unable to bear it any longer, “that one” perked up—and carefully took the zealot of Orthodoxy by the elbow and told him ruefully yet crisply: “Let’s meet and have a talk about it maybe ten years later, alright?” The zealot turned red and shrank back.
Somebody suddenly remembered that old lady. “Remember how we got so mad at her? And mainly, for what? For telling the truth! Have we been any better? Despite all our piety, have we worthily passed and survived the trials of our youth? “From my youth do many passions war against me…” Why don’t you remember your youth, my dear! “No one will paint an icon from my homely face…” said one of us parents after some thought. He added with a sigh: “I won’t squeeze in with the saints, not even with good connections.”
It finally dawned on us, but after much passing of time: Hasty judgment of another inspires not so much laughter from people (no, quite the contrary!) but the laughter of the demon “sitting on your left shoulder” as Vladimir Alexeyevich Soloukhin wrote. And it sounds disgusting, I tell you! And how much time and effort does it take to learn at least the basics of this science—to master the ability not to condemn, but to give place to God. Because He knows better.
