Hieromonk Germogen (Eremeyev) before his injury, 1997
I received the first Holy Communion in my life precisely from his hands. It was a long time ago, nearly thirty years ago. And, of course, such “iconic” personalities aren’t forgotten... Never...
And in November 1996, when he created the newspaper “Orthodox Simbirsk,” I got the blessing of our Bishop Prokl (Khazov) to go see him again, the dean of the Church of the Burning Bush in Ulyanovsk, with a request to become a regular author.
Indeed, he was an interesting personality in his own right—this young, thirty-year-old hieromonk, Fr. Germogen (Eremeyev). In his past life, he was a soloist at the Sverdlovsk Opera Theatre, and by that time had already served both as the rector of the Transfiguration Church and as the secretary of the Ekaterinburg Diocese.
Also, Batiushka was the initiator of a broad civil movement to return Sverdlovsk its former name—Ekaterinburg. And another merit in his public “baggage”: Fr. Germogen had long been an active supporter of glorifying the holy Royal Passion-bearers—Tsar Nicholas II and his holy family. Once, in a burst of zealousness, he even went so far as to commit a bit of Church “mischief”—on his own, before the official glorification by the Church, he proclaimed a special litany during the Liturgy in honor of the entire Royal Family...
***
And then came the shocking news that on the evening of February 26, 1997, in Ulyanovsk, Fr. Germogen was shot! Who, what—it was all unclear…
The first thing I did was rush off to the diocese to find out if he was alive or not, which hospital they had taken him to. They said he was alive; they immediately performed heart surgery on him, and until he regained consciousness, we couldn’t go see him.
“Thank God he’s alive,” I thought with relief. I wrote a message for my newspaper and started praying and waiting for his recovery.
***
Then finally, we got the doctor’s permission.
I went to the thoracic department of the regional hospital in a white coat and plastic shoe covers. I was invited into his room.
It was large, for eight people. But someone had thoughtfully cordoned off his bed with a tall screen in the left corner—after all, Fr. Germogen is a monk, and that means no strangers should see his uncovered body.
“Ah, Sergei, hello!” Batiushka happily greeted me.
Cheerful, vigorous, energetic, he led me into the corridor, and we slowly walked to the window.
“Yesterday evening I snuck out to go to Fr. Alexei Skala’s church. I was basically in slippers, hiding from the doctors... It’s Great Lent, after all...”
“Well,” I thought, straining my memory, “that means that twelve days after being shot in the heart, he was running around, half a mile to the All Saints Church, and even stood through the entire first day of the Great Canon of Andrew of Crete. Not bad!”
***
“Batiushka! Come on, reveal the mystery! What happened that evening, on February 26?” I inquired impatiently.
“Well, something…” Fr. Germogen said, suddenly getting serious. His cheerful mood went away, and he began to remember:
“I was renting a one-room apartment in a regular nine-story building, on Promishlennaya Street. I came home from church, I was resting, when around eight in the evening, my doorbell suddenly rang. I looked through the peephole—a girl I didn’t know, pretty. What she wanted, I didn’t know. Maybe she got the address wrong?”
Then Batiushka pulled the door wide open without any fear!
“Can you imagine, when this girl saw me, she suddenly jumped aside sharply and I saw some unknown man who had been hiding behind her the whole time!
“This man had a pistol in his hand, aimed right at me! There were no more than five feet between us…”
***
The next second, a deafening shot rang out on the tiny landing, and the rogue couple instantly disappeared!
Fr. Germogen instinctively turned a little to the side. The impact of the bullet made him fall in the doorway and scream. The neighbors ran out on the landing, picked up Father, and carried him into the apartment. Someone called the police and an ambulance.
“You know,” he thoughtfully said to me, “the first thing I said about being wounded was, ‘I forgive everyone.’”
***
The ambulance came quickly.
The bullet went in Fr. Germogen’s right side and came out the left, only slightly damaging the pericardium, the cardiac sac.
“You know, you’re really lucky,” the night nurse told Batiushka in the hospital, “our best cardiac surgeon is going to operate on you. It’s his shift today.”
Indeed, Dr. Boris Feofanov (†2017) is a cardiac surgeon of the highest order. The operation went brilliantly that night. Just like always…
***
Then there he was—Dr. Feofanov himself was coming towards us down the corridor! He, the head of the thoracic department of the Ulyanovsk Regional Hospital, had just one question for me, a journalist:
“I don’t understand how something like this could happen, how a bullet flying, by all physical laws, straight for his heart, against its initial trajectory, turned away from it literally two millimeters away. I’ve been in this profession for more than twenty years now, but I’ve never seen anything like this in my practice!”
***
Fr. Germogen in the hospital with his surgeon, Dr. Feofanov, 1997
Our meeting was coming to an end. As strong as his body was, Batiushka still needed rest.
“Let’s go, Sergei, I’ll walk you out.”
We slowly descended from the third floor and sat down at a table in the lobby.
“You know, Sergei, I had my second birth that fateful evening!”
“Amazing!” I exclaimed. “The bullet changed its trajectory BY ITSELF! It’s a miracle! Right, Batiushka?”
“Remember,” Fr. Germogen said, looking at me sternly, “When God so wills, the order of nature is overruled, for He does whatsoever He wills.” This is from the Great Canon of St. Andrew of Crete.
I shook my head obediently.
“Listen again: ‘When God so wills, the order of nature is overruled, for He does whatsoever He wills.’”
I shook my head again.
“God cancels or changes what is dictated by the laws of nature, time, and physical space. He ordered them Himself—He’s free to change them. He’s the Master.”
“Understood. Bless, Batiushka.”
***
Soon after he was discharged from the hospital, his sister came from Sverdlovsk to help him move all his poor belongings back home, to the Urals.
Fr. Germogen and Ludmila Zykina
Since then, I’ve followed him only through the Church press. I know that in 2007, Father Germogen graduated from seminary, became an archimandrite, and built a beautiful church in Ekaterinburg, named for St. Seraphim of Sarov. It’s also noteworthy that for many years he shared a great friendship with our great Russian singer Lyudmila Zykina.
The robbers, by the way, were never found.
What can be said here? Perhaps the best thing is to recall the words of Apostle Paul: Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord (Rom. 12:19).
