St. Nicholas saves all those who are in danger (Greek Orthodox icon)
St. Nicholas saves all those who are in danger (Greek Orthodox icon)
5. A Miracle Wrought By St. Nicholas in Kiev in the 1920’s
It was nearly half a century ago that I first heard of this miracle wrought by St. Nicholas. Never had I chanced to read anything about it in the writings of the Church. I would not want this case of the saintly bishop’s help to depart to my grave with me.
During the mid-1940s (I can’t recall the exact date), I had to spend the night in the city of Munchen [Munich] in West Germany. The city was in ruins after the war, and I would be forced to spend the night outside. Fortunately, there chanced to be a “Good Samaritan” church-house in the city, and I was provided with its address.
There were two of us in the room. Myself, and a man unknown to me, some 40-45 years of age. We introduced ourselves, each to the other. I do not remember either his name or his surname - and they probably would not have been “real” anyway. We had to sleep on wooden benches and chairs. So, in order to pass the night more quickly, we fell to talking. I can’t remember why, but my co-locutor, for some reason or other, asked me whether I was acquainted with the miracle of St. Nicholas that took place in Kiev in the 1920s. I did not know of it, and he related the following tale to me.
In Kiev, at Podol (the northern section of the city), there dwelt an elderly widow with her son and daughter. The old woman dearly loved St. Nicholas and, in all cases of difficulty, would go to his church to pray before the image [obraz] of the saintly bishop [sviatitel’], always receiving consolation and the easing of her misfortune. Her son, seemingly a student, became an officer.
The governments of the city changed frequently: Whites, Reds, a Hetman, a Directory, Poles, Germans, etc. All former officers were arrested on the spot, the old woman’s son among them. His sister rushed about from one “department” of the time to another. She ran her legs off, but achieved nothing. But the old woman ran off to St. Nicholas. Long did she pray before his icon; then she returned home, consoled—the saintly bishop will help. She sat down to have a spot of tea, while her daughter’s hands simply fell to her sides. O, woe!, her brother had vanished!
The son returned home at dawn of the following day. Famished, beaten, dirty, weary. According to him, a large group of officers under a strong convoy of guards was being led off to Pechersk. This is the hilly section of town, opposite from Podol, by the Kiev-Caves Lavra. There was a large hippodrome there, where horse races were held. Beyond it, there was a grove, and rampart-trenches which had been dug on Peter I’s day, as a defense against the Swedes. It was in that grove, by the rampart-trenches, that the shootings took place.
They had come up to the hippodrome when, suddenly, some little old man or other stepped out from around a corner. He approached the convoy-commandant and asked: “Where are you taking them?”
The commandant replied, rudely: “To Dukhonin’s H.Q.!” (which meant, in the jargon of the time, “to be shot”). “Go away, old man!” The old man left, but, in doing so, he took the old woman’s son by the hand and said: “Let him go. I know him.”
Neither the commandant nor the escort-guards replied with even so much as a single word, nor did they hinder him. The little old man led the young fellow out around the corner and, saying, “Go on home to your mother,” vanished away somewhere.
The old woman was overjoyed and immediately set off to thank St. Nicholas. The son wanted to do nothing more than to lie down and have a good, long sleep, but his mother took him along with her to the church. He had probably been there on previous occasions, but had been but little interested in anything.
The little old woman led him up to a huge image of the saintly bishop. The son turned ashen-pale and began to tremble. He could only whisper: “Mother, dear, but that’s the very same elder who led me to freedom…”
Wondrous is God in His Saints.
Many of the details of this tale were precise and animated. Who had my co-locutor been? Perhaps he had been speaking of himself? I don’t know…
— N. P. F. California 1993
As the cliche goes, “the church is a hospital for sinners, not a museum of saints.” That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t strive for perfection and catechize the less informed. We should. But sometimes I get a sense that very religious Catholics want their own Church, separate from all the unwashed masses who merely go to mass on Sunday (not to mention, obviously, the Christmas and Easter crowds!). But that’s not really how it works…. we are one Body and one family. We might resent our brother for being a screw-up while we followed all the rules, but he’s still our brother. And the Catholics who have incredibly malformed theology or are pro-choice or have premarital sex or whatever… they’re our brothers and sisters too.
St. Patrick Church and Yerba Buena lawn, last night
Dear Catholic TumblFriends,
I found this in the Muni station and picked it up. If you had been with me I’d have given it to you. But um you are on the other side of the screen so this is the best I can do.
quick poll do any of my Christian followers actually profess the nicene creed yes/no
Yep. Orthodox, as in, no filioque. I can recite it from memory in English, and I can read it in Slavonic, although I don’t have it completely memorized yet.
How to Dress Like a Clergyman and Look Good.
For those who are so entitled, such as bishops, I highly recommend the wear of purple socks under the cassock. In some disciplines, this is required.
The Son of God became a man to enable men to become sons of God.
C.S. Lewis - Mere Christianity (via thechristopherglen)
Cool. Except C.S. Lewis didn’t say that. St. Athanasius did.
Meanwhile, at the annual Ecumenical Gathering of Cranky Hierarchs.
La Chapelle de St. Nicholas, Priziac, Brittany, France - Rood Screen
Author: Rae, Edwin
Issue Date: 2008
“Called in Latin casula planeta or pænula, and in early Gallic sources amphibalus, the principal and most conspicuous Eucharistic vestment which covers all the rest, casula means “little shelter or house”. The chasuble along with the stole and maniple, burse and chalice veil comprise what used to be called the “Low Mass” set. Not many churches still use the maniple these days. Styles come and go as far as the shape of the chasuble is concerned, but certain areas of the world have a preference for a particular shape. The “fiddleback” or Roman shape is still popular in Spain, Italy and Mexico whereas the Gothic or Ample Gothic is found widely in America and England. The monastic cut with a rolled collar is also enjoying popularity.”
Byzantine Christian baptismal font from Carthage;
ca. 4th-5th century CE
How come I have never seen this before?
The Transfiguration, 16th c., unknown author
Favorite feast, favorite icon.
Really? ‘Consubstantial’? What the hell does that mean? We’re trying to get into heaven here, not take the SATs!
Stephen Colbert on liturgical reforms.
Bonus: ‘Christmas quality, Hannukah Prices’.