Photo: sputnik-georgia.ru
I kept meaning for a long time to entrust my memories of our beloved Patriarch to paper, but my hand froze every time. I couldn’t find the strength to write about him in the past tense. And now, as I begin this narrative, I won’t speak of His Holiness as having reposed. He hasn’t left his flock—he only became closer to us in spirit. He departed to the Lord that his prayerful intercession for our much-suffering people, for every Orthodox Christian, might become even stronger.
My journey to the altar began early, at the age of five. But the fact that as a boy I became an altar server at the main church in Georgia—the Holy Trinity Sameba Cathedral—I consider a manifest miracle and the manifest intercession of Elder Gabriel (Urgebadze). I first approached His Holiness for a blessing at the age of eighteen, but a personal, deep acquaintance came in the significant year of 2014, during the uncovering of the holy relics of St. Gabriel. I was brought to the Patriarch in those days. He blessed me first to serve at the holy relics, and then in Sameba Cathedral itself. Every service, I tried to stand across from the primate’s chair. I would watch the Patriarch, not taking my eyes off him, as if trying to absorb the peace and quiet light that emanated so abundantly from his figure. I couldn’t get enough of this concentration—it was an amazing school of humility, taught without a single word.
When I later received His Holiness’ blessing to translate the book and then to make films about St. Gabriel, my joy knew no bounds.
The memory of the copper diadem
One incident is etched particularly deeply in my mind. It happened under the arches of the ancient Svetitskhoveli Cathedral in Mtskheta. My translation of The Elder’s Diadem had just come out and I was hastening to present the first copy to the Patriarch. I was taken directly to him in the altar. I bowed down before him with trepidation, handed him the book, and hesitantly, nervously began to tell him how wonderful the work had turned out.
Here I have to make an important digression. His Holiness has one trait that struck me to the depths of my soul: His Holiness always addressed me formally. My surprise and embarrassment knew no bounds—the great elder, the primate of the Georgian Church, speaking with a young man with such deep, royal reverence! This revealed his genuine Christian nobility.
The Patriarch looked through the book carefully, page by page.
“Wonderful,” he said softly, and suddenly his gaze stopped on one particular photo, showing Fr. Gabriel’s simple copper diadem.
“What’s this photo, Konstantin?” he asked.
I reminded him of the story recorded from the words of Abbess Ketavan:
“One day, His Holiness Patriarch Ilia II came to Samtavro Monastery. Fr. Gabriel came out of his tower to meet him, with a diadem on his head. They greeted each other and the Patriarch jokingly asked: “Fr. Gabriel, is your diadem gold?” “No, Your Holiness,” the Elder replied without hesitation. “Were it gold, they would’ve beheaded me long ago!”
Hearing this story and remembering that long-ago incident, the Patriarch was transformed. His face lit up with a surprisingly warm, understanding, and bright childlike smile, revealing the whole essence of their mystical bond—two pillars of faith who understood each other without any extraneous words. And today, recalling this light, I know that we haven’t been orphaned. Our Patriarch is still with us, and his prayers, like the Elder’s diadem, protect our people.
Before treatment
Another story, from 2015. I was flying to Moscow for university exams and to get treatment in the hospital. I was really struggling health-wise then, and as so often happens, just before the flight, I was seized with agonizing, oppressive anxiety.
The road to the airport went past Holy Trinity Cathedral. I was pressed for time, already incredibly late for check-in, but some unknown force made me urge my friend to stop by the church. I remember he parked his car at the central gate. I was feeling so weak that it took me a neverending fifteen minutes to get from the fence to the cathedral door—my legs simply refused to hold me up.
The Liturgy was already ending when I entered the altar. Archdeacon Demetre took me straight to His Holiness’ throne. I fell on my knees before his primatial majesty and barely had time to utter, “Bless, Your Holiness and Beatitude,” before the tears welled up in my eyes and I burst into bitter tears.
His Holiness blessed me and quietly placed his hand on my head… And do you know what I felt? That indescribable feeling when a warm wave of grace sweeps through your whole being, taking your breath away for a moment. The Patriarch probed me about everything with deep concern: Where I was going, how I was feeling, and how the work on the film was coming along. We spoke for more than ten minutes—moments suspended outside of time. Then he blessed me with the sign of the cross and said: “May our Heavenly Father grant you blessing and joy, Konstantin. Everything will be alright.”
I reverently thanked him, got up, and walked towards the exit. And that path from the church to the gates, that took me fifteen minutes earlier, only took me a minute this time! I literally flew to the car, happy and full of exultant energy—the pain, the grief, the fear all gone. It was only once we were on the road and Sameba was left in the distance that I realized what a miracle the Lord had worked by the prayers and boundless love of our Patriarch.
So many things pop up in my memory that if I tried to commit them all to paper, I wouldn’t have enough time or pages. And is it even possible to describe in human terms that great, world-embracing love that our Patriarch breathed?
Ten lari
I still can’t think of this story without trepidation. In 2016, when work on my first film about St. Gabriel was in full swing, I was serving in the altar at a Sunday Liturgy. I had just returned from Moscow, where one pious woman named Ludmila sent a gift for His Holiness—an incredibly beautiful embroidered scarf. When I presented it to the Patriarch, he spent a long time reverently gazing at the embroidered face of the Lord. He was very pleased with the gift, genuinely delighted, then suddenly handed me a ten-lari bill. His Holiness had been generously giving out small gifts that day. He said warmly: “This is from me. I don’t have more with me right now, but it’ll come in handy for you.”
I froze with joy, but also went deep red and exclaimed: “Goodness, Your Holiness, please don’t trouble yourself. I feel so embarrassed!” I said it with such unaffected sincerity that our Patriarch couldn’t hold back a warm smile.
When the service ended and I went home, I firmly and uncompromisingly decided that I would never, under any circumstances, spend those ten lari. That I would keep them as a priceless relic.
And I have to say that at that time, my family was in a state of deep, debilitating need. My father had recently reposed, my sister had gone to study in Germany, my mother was working in my hometown, and I alone was living and working in Tbilisi. There were days when I didn’t even have enough money to buy a metro ticket, let alone groceries. I survived only by the mercy of God’s providence. Since there was no refrigerator in the apartment I was renting, the food my mother occasionally brought would quickly go bad. I don’t like to air such hardships in public, but I’m recalling this period only because every detail in this story is important.
Time passed. One day I was getting back from school very late. I sank into my chair, completely exhausted, when hunger forcefully made itself known, to the point of dizziness. There wasn’t even a crumb of bread in the place. After a long, painful internal struggle, I gave in. There was nothing else I could do. I had to make a difficult decision—to use that ten lari that His Holiness gave me to buy groceries.
It was midnight. There was only one tiny convenience store still open on the whole dark street, and I headed there. I bought some bread, some simple food… I can say with all confidence that if not for that money from the Patriarch, I wouldn’t have just gone hungry that night—I could’ve ended up in critical condition, since I was suffering a sharp flare-up of severe hypoglycemic syndrome at that time.
His Holiness saved a poor student from hunger—one who held onto his gift until the very last moment. God alone knows how many other hungry, desperate people have been saved, unseen by the world, by the quiet, sacrificial love of our primate!
After the burial of His Holiness
But the story didn’t end there. Ten long years have passed and our Patriarch has departed to the Lord. And I, as his faithful altar server, served for the last time in those mournful days at his coffin in the very stichar that he personally blessed for me many years ago.
The night before the funeral, we stayed in Sameba cathedral until dawn. My good friend Otar and I finally left around 3 AM. All the central quarters of the city were cordoned off by the police, the roads were blocked, and it was impossible to call a taxi. Over the entire long and difficult day, we hadn’t had a chance to even sit down, and my strength was finally giving out.
The police at the cordon pointed us toward the only open pedestrian corridor. All around—not a living soul, dead of night, every shopfront dark. We had about three miles to cover on foot. Along the way, I quietly told Otar that I was completely worn out, and that if I didn’t eat something right then, I would simply collapse on the pavement from an attack of my illness. But, as I said, everything around us was sunk in the dead silence of night.
We were walking slowly along the deserted Tabukashvili Street when suddenly a dim light flashed ahead. The only open store on our entire multi-mile walk turned out to be … that same store where exactly ten years prior I had used that cherished ten lari from the Patriarch!
Otar gently tugged at my sleeve: “Look, I think it’s open…”
When it dawned on me where we were, my memory instantly brought the past flooding back, and tears poured uncontrollably from my eyes. We went inside and bought some food. In a voice trembling with emotion, I told Otar the whole truth, and he listened to me in reverent astonishment.
After all that, how could we say it was an accident? I don’t believe in blind coincidences. Even then, ten years later, across separation and the mystery of death, I once again physically felt our great Patriarch invisibly standing beside me. It was as if he was smiling gently from eternity, recalling that distant rescue of a hungry student, and giving my grief-stricken heart the highest consolation: “Though I may have departed in the flesh, I will never leave you.”
At the tomb
Konstantin Tsertsvadze at Patriarch Ilia’s tomb
In closing, I’d like to share a memory of one more event that happened to me only recently. This is a testimony to the astonishing quickness to answer prayer and boundless love of the father of our nation. And not only about him...
Just a month ago, I found myself in the crucible of severe trials. My health suddenly gave way: Several inflammatory conditions flared up in my body at once, accompanied by severe weakness, high blood pressure, and complete physical debility. But hardest of all was the spiritual battle—my soul was tormented by deep despondency and inner turmoil. It was hard even to move; every step was shackled with intense pain.
One evening I was sitting motionless on the balcony, when suddenly some invisible, indescribable force literally drew me to act—I didn’t just get up, but seemed to leap to my feet, and hurried to Sioni Cathedral. It felt like the ancient cathedral itself, or some incomprehensible force was calling me to it.
Step by difficult step, I made it to the cathedral and went straight to His Holiness’ tomb. With reverence, I asked the altar server there to allow me to spend time at the head of his tomb to read some prayers. They answered me cordially and graciously allowed me to stay.
Having finished my prayers, I silently called out to our dear father with a contrite heart:
“Your Holiness and Beatitude, my beloved Patriarch… Forgive my boldness. Sinful Konstantin has come to you… Things are very bad for me. Help me, please. Bless me as only you can. But the main thing is that I’m in a very difficult spiritual battle. Give me at least some sign that you hear me, I beg you. Let me know it.
I also silently asked for forgiveness from Elder Gabriel. I thought: “He’s probably already sick of my constant grumbling,” although he’s never left me either. In my faintheartedness and weakness I found myself thinking, full of doubt: “If only I could see His Holiness even in a dream, what a comfort that would be to me...”
As soon as I finished this thought in my heart, something happened that my mind could hardly believe, but that my heart recognized at once. One of the altar servers keeping watch over the tomb suddenly turned to me and said:
“Forgive me, my friend, we have to go up to the seminary on an urgent matter. Could you stay here for a bit and keep an eye on his tomb?”
Before the Lord I say: At that very moment, something unimaginable happened to me. It was as though a powerful, luminous surge pierced my body and awakened my soul. This was the answer! A living, instantaneous answer to my prayers from His Holiness. All my life I had dreamed of simply being near him, to at least catch a glimpse of him… And now he left me a guardian at his tomb!
But the miracles didn’t end there for me, having been left in complete solitude at his tomb. A woman who was cleaning in the cathedral suddenly came over to me. As it turned out, she had come from Serbia and was carrying out obedience here. She looked at me with surprising warmth and asked:
“Forgive me, but are you Mr. Konstantin? Didn’t you make the films about Fr. Gabriel?”
“Yes, that’s me,” I said in amazement.
The woman’s eyes filled with tears. She looked at the Patriarch’s tomb, then at me, and said with emotion:
“You know, it’s thanks to your films that I’m here today. Your work gave me my faith back. I was born again… Thank you for everything. May the grace of Elder Gabriel ever be with you! I’m sure he always helps you and stays by your side.”
Her words hit me like a bolt out of the blue. A second sign! But this time, from our beloved Fr. Gabriel. Having seen my heart, he dispersed those faint-hearted doubts that had tormented me just minutes before, and made me tangibly feel that he, too, had never abandoned me.
I spent about an hour on guard at His Holiness’ tomb. When I left the church, I suddenly froze—I didn’t recognize myself. My infirmity, my muscle pain, and the fear that had gripped my soul had vanished without a trace. Everything was healed in an instant, which was later confirmed by medical examinations as well.
***
On that unforgettable day, I felt boundless support from two great saints of God, and in the depths of my soul I clearly heard their single fatherly voice: “We’re here. We’re with you!”
How could I not be amazed, how could I hold back my tears and not be filled with the deepest gratitude in the face of such great mercy? Today, I am absolutely certain, without a shadow of a doubt, that we’re not alone in this world below. Our every pain, every secret hope and tear is heard in Heaven. And when our strength runs out on earth, the saints themselves stretch out their arms to carry us.
Glory to God for all things!
