Never refused advice and help
Hegumen Hermogenes (Ananyev)
I came to the monastery in 1992. Already at that time, Father Daniel led a spiritual life in the monastery. He was especially attentive and deeply immersed in the life of the monastery. Father Daniel was generally one of the first inhabitants of the monastery. Those two first brothers whom Bishop Eulogius brought into the monastery at the dawn of its restoration were precisely Schema-Abbess Raphael, who had died a year ago, and the newly deceased Father Daniel. The Cover of God was truly felt over both of them.
Archimandrite Daniel (Voronin) was the confessor of the monastery, that is, the one who confessed, instructed and consoled all the brethren until the last day. He was a very famous, or rather popular, person in Moscow, to whom confessors lined up. Despite this, at any moment you could approach him and ask for spiritual advice, sometimes even financial help. He almost never refused, he was always ready to respond.
Modest, inconspicuous, he himself did not highlight his personality, yet his presence and prayer were always felt in the monastery. He really occupied a big place here.
It must be admitted that Archimandrite Daniel really did not like to talk about himself. And if he did tell, it was in passing and rather about how the monastery began, what the first services were like, how miraculously the relics of St. Savva, who blessed the life of the monastery, ended up here. He recalled these events, but only on occasions when, for example, in 2003 and 2013 we celebrated the twentieth and thirtieth anniversary of monastic life. It was then that I first heard that he came to the monastery in the 80s, essentially as a layman, a seminarian. He was the very first brother who rose from novice to archimandrite, which made him different from schema-abbot Raphael, who came to the monastery as a priest, and then took monastic vows and became a hieromonk.
Father Daniel recalled with great warmth those years when monastic life was getting better and the brethren gathered. He outlined many stories in books that were published several times. On my own behalf, I will add that in the monastery I was a cellarer ( the head of the monastic table, supplies - editor's note.
) twelve years, from 1992 to 2005, and observed how many traditions, for example, the prayer rule in the refectory, during which all the cooks prayed, and a certain way of life in the monastery were established by Father Daniel, who was engaged in cellar service, all these years. Those who lived through these times still carry the memory of Father Daniel and his instructions with great love.
Back in June 2021, he was cheerful, on his feet, and there was no sign of trouble. He was active, served a lot, prayed, confessed, and went to church. Suddenly he felt unwell, went to the hospital for examination, where it turned out that he had a blood clot in his lung. Treatment began. Alas, it was not possible to avoid a stroke and Father Daniil ended up in intensive care...
At every liturgy we prayed for him, but we could not even imagine that his condition was so serious. We were connected by spiritual and brotherly relations and I grieve over this death.
Se is a person. Memories of Archimandrite Daniel (Voronin)
At the word “elder,” many neophytes immediately remember the movie image depicted by the Judeo-Christian director Pavel Lungin in his acclaimed film “The Island.” The elder can read thoughts, and can see the future, and if necessary, he will scold his superiors for wearing too soft boots, but he himself, probably knowing God’s providence for himself, will want and will not fulfill the blessing of the abbot for a change of career. Well, the hero of Peter Mamonov did not go to a new place of residence, where the abbot ordered him to go, which means we can too... And the fact that such a liberally organized monastery with such a “spirit-bearing” elder would not have survived even a year - everyone will only cultivating your inner voice and obeying its commands is not important to us, moviegoers. It’s not us who will lead such spirit-seers, so it’s not for us to suffer. Let the psychiatrists there, if anything, deal with the prophets. And we just want it to be spectacular and beautiful.
In a word, as it was under Emperor Tiberius, it continues to this day: “... an evil and adulterous generation seeks a sign.” Yes, only, according to Christ the Savior: “a sign will not be given to him” (Matthew 12:40), no matter how much he desires it.
How then can we understand where the elder is and where the elder is not? Where is the spirit-bearing and good Shepherd, and where is only an old gray-bearded priest playing at the “elder of God”, which of the priests is a mercenary, and who is just a wolf, only in sheep’s clothing?
I asked myself these questions until I met with Archimandrite Daniel (Voronin) and some other inhabitants of the St. Daniel Monastery in Moscow.
And I ended up in the monastery almost “by accident.” About thirty years ago, on the day of the baptism of my first-born, Fyodor, at the invitation of his godfather, the senior prosphora student of the same monastery, Alexander Zeynalov, I, a former graduate of VGIK, who had never managed to break into the film world, agreed to come to Moscow to earn extra money for my son’s diapers. . And so he stayed here for a good quarter of a century. During this time, my son has grown up long ago, now he is already a prosphora student himself, asceticism at the Church of the Icon of the Mother of God “Life-Giving Spring”, which is near Tsaritsyn Park, and I still work in a “random place” and little by little I rethink what seems obvious to everyone things.
One of these concepts, as I have already said, is the word “elder”. About thirty years ago, I expected from the elder approximately the same gifts of the Holy Spirit that Pavel Lungin showed us in his sensational film. But, having arrived at the monastery and settled in a cell with seven more neophytes, I inevitably felt that I needed something different. After all, judge for yourself: I am a graduate of VGIK, a screenwriter by profession, my brain and heart are geared towards constant daily creativity. And here - prosphora, hard routine, repetitive work day after day. In the cell, the only talk was that all art... is from the devil, and any attempt to engage in creativity was mercilessly suppressed by my neighbors. And how can you write scripts when there is noise, din, and bustle of vanities all around: after all, there are seven neophytes nearby. Endless lofty discussions about St. Seraphim (Sarov) and about St. Sergius (of Radonezh), about the grace and joy that an ascetic can acquire, engaged in unceasing inner work in silence, and at the same time - a daily endless talking shop, for some - lying on his side, and for others - sitting around the table, over a cup of tea with hot pepper . Unfortunately, I could not write in such living conditions. That's probably why I took up handicrafts. More precisely, he continued his work. The fact is that back at the beginning, in Sumy, during night shifts near the baby Fedor, I learned to glue collages on Orthodox themes from scraps - scenes from the lives of the Old Testament and New Testament righteous people. I later had a whole exhibition, which I called “Foolish Pictures.” And this exhibition of collages was later successfully held, both in my homeland, in Sumy itself, and in the Central House of Artists, as well as in the Slavic Cultural Center and even in Sergiev Posad.
But in the monastery... As soon as I laid out a piece of plywood on the bed with a backing stretched over it - scarlet plush fabric from my grandmother's supplies and scraps for gluing, at that very second the hotel hieromonk Alexander burst into the cell and shouted indignantly right from the threshold:
- Who blessed you with this business?
“Well, I’m after work,” I muttered embarrassedly in response.
- Well, so what, after work! – he growled edifyingly. – You are in a monastery! And whatever you do here, you must first ask for a blessing for this matter!
- Who should I ask? – I asked.
- Yes, anyone. At least from the same confessor, Father Daniel! Or the dean, Father Luke! But if you, say, came up to me with this plywood and tried to bless me, then I would categorically forbid you to do this! Categorically!
- Why? – I was even more surprised. – After all, this is a scene from the life of the saint: Alexy – the man of God?
- Exactly! From the life of a saint! – Raising his index finger up, Fr. exclaimed menacingly. Alexander. – And for such images in Orthodoxy there are canons! There is embroidery, there is an icon, there is a fresco. But no one has ever glued saints together, excuse me, from scraps! This is some kind of mockery... of a shrine. In short, until you receive your blessing, I categorically forbid you from doing this!
And Father Alexander, his chrome boots creaking, quickly ran away from his cell.
“Well, we told you so,” while I was collecting scraps and patterns into cardboard, shoe boxes, my cell mates surrounded me. – This is not some shabby VGIK for you. Monastery! And art, if it is not temple art, is from the devil! Oh, what did you want: a saint made of scraps! Yes, we would immediately kick you out of your cell for such a thing. This is Father Alexander, nothing today; Apparently, psoriasis doesn’t particularly bother him: he only sent him for a blessing. Otherwise, he would have been a wolf's ticket, and in the neck: glue for his health, only somewhere at the source. But even for a blessing, my brother, it’s better not to rock the boat. No one in our monastery will give you such a blessing. So sit still and don’t twitch. Forget about your plywood, and if you don’t want to drink tea with us, read the lives of the saints. That way it will be more reliable.
And the temple servants - and basically they were the ones who lived in the same cell with me at that time - already sitting down at the table to continue endless pious conversations over a cup of tea with a stoner, without saying a word, they mockingly warned:
“Then go and look for a monk who will give you a blessing for blasphemy.” Let's see how this trip ends for you.
And here, almost for the first time in my life, I encountered, one might say, a real insoluble contradiction. On the one hand, my salary as a prosphora worker did not allow me to rent a room somewhere on the outskirts of Moscow and, despite the blessing, do what I loved: after all, I had to send money for living expenses to my hopelessly ill sister, as well as to my wife and son. Well, on the other hand, it’s just stupid to work day after day, and in the evenings I couldn’t for the life of me make tea with hot water and endlessly pour it from empty to empty. Just the thought of such a life, and for years and years! — I began to itch all over my body, and a lump of hysteria rose in my throat. Moreover, I have seen what men dedicated to creativity turn into when, for one reason or another, they fail to do what they love.
- I don’t want to drink myself to death! – I was bubbling inside. - I want to live! But I don’t want to leave the monastery either! I like it here! In short, you can imagine the state in which I was looking for a person who would bless me for gluing hagiographic scenes from scraps and plush. For hours after work I looked closely at the monks. Dean? Too harsh and unyielding, I thought then. - This one obviously won’t bless. Abbot? Although he is gentle in appearance, he is painfully strict and picky about little things: I am afraid that this one, too, will react to my “foolish pictures” with at least restraint: he will sympathize, but not bless me. The last one remained, Father Daniel. As it seemed to me then: an ordinary normal, well-mannered intellectual with glasses. This one is most similar to just a person. That's where I'll go, I guess. If this person doesn’t support me, then I don’t even know what to do...
This strange, at first glance, criterion spontaneously manifested itself in my mind, disturbed to the core: just a person. A person without any capital letters. Moreover, I had no idea in those years that this is exactly what the Lord Himself called the righteous people he most loved: Noah, Job, Abraham, man and all, without any capital letters. And there Pontius Pilate, trying to protect a wandering preacher unknown to him from the Jews who insisted on his crucifixion, it was with these two words that he began and ended the entire apology for his short, but truly biblical defense of Jesus Christ: “Behold, the man!” And – period.
In a word, I decided to go to the person. But, to decide one thing, but to get through to Father Daniel through the dense cordon of mothers who are always surrounding him is completely different. Moreover, to break through not just for conversation, but with my “holy fool’s pictures”, with colorful rags and fiberboard backings, and, moreover, try to explain to the monk how much this activity is internally necessary for me, an unsuccessful screenwriter. In short, I began to take a closer look at Fr. Daniel, carefully studying all his daily movements around the monastery: from the early, six o'clock service - to the cell, from the cell - to the meal and back, and in the evening - again to the service; and in the end I realized that it was best for me to wait for him right after lunch at the entrance to the fraternal building, when the crowd of suffering parishioners would inevitably leave the priest alone, and he, complacent after eating, would not yet have time to be so tired as not to pay attention to another idle parishioner.
No sooner said than done. And so, on one fine summer day, about one o’clock, I sat down on a bench at the entrance to the fraternal building. And, having passed by all the brethren returning from lunch, when a small heap of excited parishioners appeared, as always, swarming around the priest, he laid out a couple of ready-made collages on the bench, and on them he placed an unfinished backing with a scene from the life of Alexei - the man of God, cardboard cutouts , red plush, several scraps and threads.
Having brought the priest to the porch, the swarm of parishioners stopped in annoyance: they could not go further. I, folding my hands into a boat for blessing, took the risk of approaching Fr. Daniel with his “difficult question.”
After listening to me carefully and examining the pictures, Fr. Daniel carefully touched the velvet and shreds with his finger. After which, looking up at me with his large light brown eyes, he asked, somewhat embarrassed, but at the same time affectionately:
— And Father Alexander, what doesn’t you like about all this?
“I don’t know,” I admitted honestly. – He says that there are canons for the depiction of saints. And to depict ascetics made from rags, and even with strings from bags of flour, borders on blasphemy.
O. Daniel nodded understandingly and thought for a moment.
Then he asked:
— Could you teach this needlework to someone else?
“Of course,” I replied. - There’s nothing to learn here. I drew, cut out, picked up scraps and glue.
“Yes, yes,” said Fr. calmly. Daniel narrowed his eyes and added: “What if we try to organize courses?” For monks. Maybe they'll get carried away? They will love privacy. Will they visit their cells less? Will they start praying more? Although... They won’t study...
And about. Daniil, gently waving his hand, hunched over, headed towards the door to the fraternal building.
“Excuse me, father,” I stopped him on the threshold of the hall. - What about me? Can I glue it? What should I answer to Father Alexander?
“Tell me that Christ Himself did not forbid children to come to Him,” Fr. breathed out tiredly. Daniel. - Just like I cannot forbid you this completely innocent childhood hobby.
- So, you are blessing me? – I asked excitedly, feeling inspired internally.
“Well, of course,” answered Fr. Daniel. - I bless you. Glue it.
And so began our more than quarter-century acquaintance with the confessor of the monastery. Knowing the priest’s exorbitant workload, I tried to bother him with my questions as little as possible. Approached only in extreme cases and out of great need. But for confession before Communion or simply to ask for a blessing for some trifle, I went to the first hieromonk who caught my eye. So over the years I've talked to Fr. Daniel no more than twenty to thirty times. But every conversation with him always brought me consolation and, even in the most intractable cases, hope for God’s quick help. So, when at the end of the first year of my life in the monastery I approached Fr. Daniel with this question:
— Father, I’ve been in the monastery almost all the time. I hardly see my family. Will such a life end in something bad? - then the confessor of the monastery meekly and clearly answered me:
- Everything will be OK. You are working for God. And He will find an opportunity to strengthen you and your wife in the faith. And this will help her raise your children in a normal, pious spirit.
I then left the priest reassured. And many times later, no matter what tricky questions I asked him, I always received a sober, laconic, balanced answer. When the question was truly unsolvable, the priest, unlike many, many current priests, did not try to advise me on anything, but, after praying, answered with a smile: “Forgive me, Ivan, I don’t even know what to tell you.” Let's live and pray. The Lord will work it out somehow.
And indeed, a week or two passed, and the seemingly completely insoluble situation resolved itself, and I didn’t even have to go to Fr. Secondly, for Daniel: everything was already becoming transparent and obvious. And only once, in the twenty-fourth year of my stay at the monastery, when my first-born, Fyodor, was already happily working as a prosphora maker at one of the Moscow churches, and his godfather, Alik, suddenly decided to make a grandiose prosphora for us, - in his words, - renovation, o. Daniel, having listened to me carefully, dared to show his insight. In particular, he said:
- Don't worry. No one will let him ruin the prosphora.
- How can he not? How can he not? — I seethed with righteous indignation. – The housekeeper has already signed the drawings for the redevelopment. All six stoves will be cut and moved from the first floor to the basement. And upstairs, on the site of the former temple cemetery, where there is always so much fresh air and light, they will set up an office for selling prosphora! Yes, with such a repair as Alik proposes, the temperature of the working area, that is, where we will cut and bake the prosphora, which the planners have already warned us about, with all the hoods and air conditioners that they will supply us, will be at least 65 degrees Celsius ! This is a bathhouse! A real steam room! How can you work in such hell? However, it won’t be any sweeter upstairs, in “Alik’s office”! After all, all the heat will naturally flow up from the basement. So the whole Danilovskaya prosphora will turn into a real inferno!
What about. Daniel, giving me the opportunity to speak, prayed and answered:
“Prince Daniil won’t give it.” And the Lord will not allow it. You will see.
Alas, due to my natural ardor and lack of faith, I continued to “struggle” with the madness of the impending repair: while working, I showed Alik with all my appearance that I was against his idea, and before the shift and in between baking prosphora, I ran to the relics of the Blessed Prince Daniel (Moscow) and begged the saint on his knees to interrupt “this wild” undertaking. In short, I got to the point where, on the thirty-fifth anniversary of our friendship with Alik, he simply fired me from my job. With the traditional wording in such cases: “In connection with retirement.” Fortunately, the late Boris Vasilyevich Serabinovich, God rest upon him, having known me well for many years, brought me back to Danilov, making me an assistant commandant. And yet, not believing Fr. Taking Daniel’s word and continuing the war with repairs, I almost said goodbye to the monastery. Then, as in fact, as predicted by Fr. Daniel, the matter of repairs resolved itself: the monastery simply became somewhat poorer, so that even Alika’s godfather, the Economist, summoned his relative to the office and said:
- Sorry, Alik. Repairs will have to wait. There is no such money in the monastery. And they are unlikely to appear now. So continue working as usual.
That’s where the “grand undertaking” ended.
Six months before his death, Fr. Daniel began to clearly give up. Many parishioners who knew him for many years saw with what difficulty, forcing himself to always be polite and calm, he goes out to the service of God, how often, especially during Vespers, he sits down at the stasidia. A severe, debilitating illness literally fell on the priest with each passing day. And, nevertheless, to all the requests of spiritual children to go to the doctor as soon as possible, Fr. Daniel, as always, remained silent or even waved away particularly annoying parishioners. And only once, during a sermon, did he allow himself to answer all our perplexities and questions at once:
- In order to be saved, a Christian must follow Christ to the cross. And if he feels the weight of this cross, and at the same time rejoices in it, it means that everything in his life is working out as it should. Man on the path to Salvation. And we should not grieve, but, looking at him, we must learn from his example and try to imitate him in this joyful ascent to our personal Golgotha.
Father Daniel (Voronin) ascended to his Golgotha. Whether it’s joyful or not, only God knows. But the fact that he suffered a lot, crucified on a long cross of illness, is, in my opinion, obvious to everyone. In the same way as for everyone who knew even a little about. Daniel, he will forever remain an eternally living example of spiritual perseverance and patience, careful attitude towards people and truly meek, not ostentatious, humility. Not a flint, not a pillar of Orthodoxy, not a vitiator and not a prophet, but the most ordinary sinful repentant person, he, like no one else, knew the value of simple human kindness and ordinariness that does not hurt anyone. Therefore, to the question of neophytes who were always overdoing it from the boiling of righteous feelings: “Can I tell him this and that...”, he usually answered with a meek smile: “Well, if you feel that you can do it in the proper tone, without offending and without angering your interlocutor, then say it. And if you do not have that measure of meekness and love, then it is better to remain silent and pray for the person. And the Lord Himself will find the possibility of how exactly and through which mortal to lead the lost to the truth of God.
Ivan Zhuk, assistant commandant
2020
Sensitive - like a mother, reasonable - like a father
Today is the funeral service for the confessor of the Danilov Monastery in Moscow, Archimandrite Daniil (Voronin). The newly deceased is remembered by his spiritual son, the rector of the Church of the Prophet Elijah on Vorontsov Field, Archpriest Alexander Tikhonov.
Young where it's interesting
Archimandrite Daniil (Voronin) I remember, I was about 12 years old, I came to the Danilov Monastery. There was still a children's colony there at that time. They tell me:
- We'll put you here now! Just come in, you’ll stay here!
I walked around the monastery. I approached the Church of the Resurrection of the Word. The ruin was complete. Where the Danilovskaya Hotel is now, there was a reinforced concrete fence, and behind it was a landfill. Metrostroy equipment was dumped there. Everything around is overgrown. Where the Patriarchal residence is now, there was a branch of a refrigerator factory. Some electric cars were constantly stopping by and delivering boxes. Something was being loaded and unloaded. The fuss is incredible. But somehow everything is lifeless, joyless. The spirit is so stale...
And then I hear: “Danilov Monastery was given to the Church!” This happened in the summer of 1983. I'm going there. The first person I saw there was Father Rafail (Shishkov) - then either Archpriest Pavel, or - already tonsured, before the schema - Father Alexy. The churches in the monastery were not yet operational. Only the current Church of St. Seraphim of Sarov was already equipped as a chapel. It was there, behind the box, that the future schema-monk stood. Candles and icons could be purchased. There was no talk of any books back then. Then, in general, the entire Tradition was passed on to each other orally.
It was felt that life there was already different. It’s all somehow already dissolved in the air. But they still won’t let me in (student: they were afraid the authorities would find fault)! Although young people were already approaching the monastery. Especially on weekends. We were ready for any work. They hovered around there, as long as they just started to take us into circulation.
Meeting him became life-defining for me and my loved ones in many ways.
Then I was positively jubilant: I had found myself in an environment dear to me! Everyone plunged into the element of rebirth. I abandoned my studies. The most interesting thing was obviously happening here. During the holidays, I generally disappeared from the monastery every day.
In September, I remember, I returned to school and began “recruiting” my classmates. Two or three of them went with me several times, yes, apparently, there was pressure on them at home - somehow I was able to sort everything out with my parents, they then all went to Father Daniil, they respected him very much. Father later facilitated the Baptism of my cousins. Meeting him became life-defining for me and my loved ones in many ways.
How Father Daniel became the first monk of the Danilov Monastery
I somehow immediately noticed Father Daniel. There weren't many brothers then. The monastery was headed by Father Evlogii (Smirnov), now a retired bishop.
There were no liturgies celebrated in the monastery at that time. The monastery churches were in terrible condition. The brethren acquired a small rafi bus and went to services at the more or less intact Donskoy Monastery. The driver, I remember, was wonderful - Vladimir Ivanovich. All the amazing people began to gather.
Do you know how Father Daniil ended up in the Danilov Monastery? Later, when I was already studying at the seminary, I got into a conversation with Father Jonah (Karpukhin), who is now also a retired bishop. He told me:
“Yes-ah... Father Daniel! I remember! His name was Victor, Voronin. He graduated from the Moscow Seminary here. And all his fellow graduates had already left, but he still didn’t leave for a long time, walking around the Lavra here. Pensive. I meet him somehow:
- Victor, why aren’t you leaving? Will you go to the academy?
- Not really…
- What, have you decided to get married?
- No.
- To the monastery?
- Yes, I would go to a monastery...
Fourth from the left is novice Viktor Voronin, far right is Metropolitan Alexy (Ridiger) - the future Patriarch
And at that moment, the door in the academic building where we were standing opened, and Father Evlogii entered. And he had just been appointed abbot of the Danilov Monastery.
- ABOUT! Father Eulogius, come here! - I shout to him. - Here is your first inhabitant!
Father Eulogius asks him:
– Do you agree to go to the monastery?
- Yes I am going.
And that’s it!”
So Father Daniel became the first inhabitant of the Danilov Monastery.
Barter the monastic way
Archpriest Alexander Tikhonov And this is how we met...
In the only operating chapel of St. Seraphim of Sarov at that time, they started to repair something and paint something. I hung around there too. He brought something and took something away. Then they gave me some kind of responsible obedience. And my eyesight was already bad then, but, out of childish stupidity, I was embarrassed to wear glasses. And so I come up to report, I talk and talk... And my “boss” sits on his haunches and calmly paints the wall. Listens attentively, but half-turned. As I told everything, he turned around... I looked - Father Daniel!
“Oh,” I say, “I made a mistake!”
And he smiled like that: maybe not...
So, little by little, the priest became my confessor. It was around 1984 that we first came into contact with him.
Father was then appointed cellarer. He managed purchasing and cooking. He treated everything very conscientiously. All the chefs loved him very much. Everyone was nourished by him and confessed. What amazing people gathered there then! Deeply religious, church-going. There was such a servant of God Tatiana, now she is a nun Mitrofaniya in the Holy Cross Monastery in Domodedovo, near Moscow. This summer, when the priest was already ill, I went to see her, I said, and she:
- I know! I roar all day long!
Father Daniel cannot be forgotten. Everyone who met him is forever
Father Daniel cannot be forgotten. Everyone who met him is forever. Such a premonition of eternity, given to us already in the experience of these fast-flowing days. In a monastery, spiritual connections are always actualized first and foremost.
How we all tried to help Father Daniil even then. There was such purity in him - it’s like pleasing God: unclouded joy! I constantly carried him some boxes with provisions. Something was unloaded, rearranged, dismantled... This is all external. But internally, you simply drew and drew joy from being with him! This is barter where your contribution is tiny compared to what you receive.
Track after track - extreme in spiritual advancement
Father was soon chosen as the confessor of the entire brethren. A worthy choice. The man was in his place. I don’t remember a single brother in the monastery who spoke badly about him, with resentment or indignation. Because the priest treated any of his obedience extremely responsibly. Demanding of oneself, merciful of others. So he became a confessor - not a father, but rather a mother. With what sensitivity he looked after! Especially the newly tonsured. They sit there, in the altar (after tonsure, the brethren spend three days in the Holy of Holies - O.O.), and he:
- Oh, we need to go visit the newly tonsured fathers.
I don’t remember a single brother in the monastery who spoke badly about him, with resentment or indignation.
He will go and read prayers with them there. He will take them to the meal and escort them back.
He himself was tonsured by Father Eulogius. This was the first tonsure in the monastery. Then they were tonsured with their father Rafail. Victor Voronin was named Daniil - in honor of the holy noble prince Daniil of Moscow. And Pavel Shishkov’s father was named Alexy - in memory of Alexy, the man of God. Then, when he was tonsured into the mantle, Father Daniel received Daniel the Stylite as his Heavenly patron, and Father Alexy received St. Alexy, Metropolitan of Moscow (and then, already in the schema, became Raphael).
All subsequent years, being already a metropolitan, Bishop Evlogy greatly respected Father Daniel. And how he respected the senior clergy! Whenever I happened to be somewhere, Father Daniel always listened with great interest and asked the old priests: “How did this and that happen before? How did you pray? How did you serve?” Tradition was important to him. Succession. The path is narrow (Matthew 7:14), dangerous - those who seriously think about salvation try to follow the experienced ascetics. They understand all the responsibility and realize the cost of a mistake. Moreover, they lead others along with them.
It’s a pity that now somehow no one really cares. And he knew that without this safety equipment connecting us with our predecessors, there would be no way.
“At least I read the Gospel,” or All the arguments in favor of another
Every day in the morning and evening I went to church for services. For all services! He was always ready to replace: if someone got sick, someone needed to go somewhere... He, like a lifesaver, served instead of successive hieromonks. He won’t go on vacation himself, let others rest.
Pilgrimage to Valaam, 1990. Fathers Daniel and Raphael (Shishkov) on the deck of the ship. And if he gets out, then it’s all to the holy places. He could have taken some of his spiritual children with him. I remember we went to Valaam with him. And he didn’t relax at all on vacation...
If he wasn’t fussing with someone, he was intensifying his prayer. When he gets away for a little while home, in the Ryazan region, in his native place, he will lock himself in his parents’ house and spend some time there in hermit mode – in contemplation and intense prayer.
He had some kind of special internal connection with the St. John the Theologian Monastery in Poshchupovo, which was never interrupted. He was prayerfully close to his fellow countrymen - he greatly revered Vladyka Simon (Novikov), the then ruling bishop of the Ryazan diocese, Father Abel (Makedonov), Vladyka Barnabas (Kedrov) - he was also from Ryazan. They did not fight alone on the spiritual front, they supported each other.
Before the seminary - this was around 1988 - I remember I already worked at the Danilov Monastery, I was on duty at the temple. My duties included, in particular, opening the temple in the morning and closing it in the evening. Father could already receive Confession long after midnight. I’m already falling, falling off my feet, starting to walk from corner to corner so as not to fall asleep.
“Alexander, give me the keys, leave them for me,” I’ll suddenly hear, “I’ll close everything myself.” Go relax, get some sleep.
But he himself remained for a long time! In the morning, you look, it’s going early! When did he sleep? And did you sleep? He also had to read the rule for the liturgy. And then later, I see, she’s still standing with someone, talking... Like a mother! He nursed everyone spiritually.
I remember that the priest was somehow so tired, completely exhausted. He can barely stand on his feet. And then he is attacked:
- Father, we need to offer unction!
It’s a long way to go... Anyone else would have found a lot of excuses, but he:
- At least I read the Gospel - (there, during the unction, the Gospel is read seven times and the Apostle the same number of times - Fr.).
In the same way, if it was necessary to give Holy Communion to someone, he immediately got ready and went.
Repent and forget! Protect your eyes and ears from now on. And try to pray
Father Daniel is a reliable man. This quality has, unfortunately, been abused by many. The crowds were just following him. Although I know it myself, others probably felt it too: I wanted to be close to him. Therefore, perhaps, he was sometimes bothered even with ridiculous questions - it was like asking, just to be nearby. Such a calming spirit emanated from him, the grace of God! It’s hard to deny yourself this - a well-known effect of co-presence with a spiritual person.
I remember the priest walking from the refectory to the cell, and this continued for hours: one would come up, a second, a third, etc. Father listens to everyone, prays, answers.
Father is a comforter. It was easy to confess to him. He never gave any heavy rules, penances, or imposed unbearable burdens (cf. Matt. 23:4). You could tell him everything.
Father is a comforter. It was easy to confess to him. He did not give any heavy rules, he did not impose unbearable burdens
Father Daniel instructed about Confession:
- Now, we need to repent and forget! Otherwise, they’ll repent and let’s pick them apart again... No, don’t. I repented and forgot.
During Confession, Father always allowed the person to speak out for himself, to expose himself. Only if you decided to hide something, you even involuntarily say something, and then there’s a stupor - he immediately followed your “a” with a “b”... And he continued to spin it. All our sins were visible to him. He will immediately pray with you and sigh.
I myself later sent parishioners to him if anyone had seemingly unsolvable situations. He reconciled many. I even went to someone specially for this. He didn’t refuse anyone.
Instructed:
- My friend, this is the time: take care of your eyes and ears (this is so that you don’t see or hear any nasty things). – Try to pray all the time.
“Father, you know, sometimes prayer is so useless: you mumble with your tongue, but your head doesn’t know what it’s thinking about,” you sometimes complain to him, and he:
– Pray anyway, read! It’s like, you know, when milk is whipped into butter: they swirl it around in a jug, chattering... That’s how prayer is. You pray, you still have it all on your tongue, in your heart, in your memory, in your mind, albeit unconsciously for now, hanging out, but this is how you develop a skill. Pray! Try it, come on!
Taming the Storm
And what a gift of reasoning he had! How people lack this quality now.
You ask him about something, you tell him something, you tell him something. And he stands there, his eyes closed. “He’s sleeping, or what?...” No, he’s not sleeping! He listens to you, understands you, and prays. Once he opens it, his gaze is so focused:
- Let’s do it this way, my friend.
I remember I had a choice: I was invited to two churches. The first - to Father Dimitry Ivanov in the Church of St. Demetrius of Rostov in Ochakovo (closer to my home, where I lived then, in Troparevo), and the second - to Saints Florus and Laurus on Zatsep. And so I ask:
- Father, where should we go? I think I like it both ways...
Father prayed.
- Well, come on, my friend, closer to us, to the monastery.
(This means Paveletskaya’s church on Zatsepa).
And there was another case: immediately after graduating from the seminary, they began to call me to the Moscow region - they almost assigned a place for me among the clergy of one parish. I kind of liked everything there myself. And at the same time, I am a native Muscovite: how can I leave Moscow? Although they seem to be persistently trying to persuade me to go there, I think they’ve already persuaded me...
“No, Alexander,” the priest suddenly said, as if he had snapped, “let’s not leave from under the direct omophorion of His Holiness the Moscow City Diocese.” Stay here. It will be hard for you there. That's what you're saying now. And if you go there, you will begin to miss Moscow, it will be hard for you there. Stay here and serve.
I remember that I then accepted my father’s order. And then again – doubts still torment me. I once stood at the grave of the then not yet famous father Aristoclius in the Danilov cemetery - there was a storm inside: how could I establish myself?.. And the Lord gave a sign - as if he had calmed the sea (cf. Matt. 8:26). I don’t know: maybe through the prayer of the confessor. A memorial service was held there then. And one servant of God placed a stack of icons on the grave. People quickly snapped them up. And she reproaches me:
- Why are you standing there, don’t you come over? Here, take it! There are no icons left, but here’s a picture from the elder’s grave!
I took it and looked: the city of Moscow! And above him is a host of saints. Everything became clear.
Father Daniel has everything – his and ours
Then, when Dolmatovo was transferred to the Danilov Monastery for subsidiary farming, I was already working in the monastery at that time. I was given the obedience to look after everything there and work in the apiary. But first, we went there in 1989, right after Easter: the brethren led by Father Daniel and I with them.
First Easter in the Trinity Cathedral of the revived Danilov Monastery, 1985. Hieromonk Daniel in the center
We've arrived... It's creepy. Complete devastation. Ruin. Thickets. You won't pass. Some kind of jungle. There was once a manor house in the lowland, then under the Soviet regime it was repurposed as a school, and when it became known that this building, long empty by that time, would be given to the monastery, someone took it and set it on fire. Everything is black... Collapsed.
Let's take a look. We came across one old man there. He had a patriarchal appearance: a long beard, and at the same time pathetic. His name was Misha Kirillov. He was drinking, poor fellow. But grandfather had such a pure heart! Unsophisticated. Not crafty. His house was also burned down. I went into the forest to pick mushrooms. Returns: not at home. They wanted to send him to a nursing home, but he refused. He settled nearby, in a barn. I heated it in winter as best I could. It was freezing there. I got frostbite on my feet. His toes on both feet were amputated in the hospital. He began to take into this barn all the belongings thrown out by others. The neighbors started chasing him.
- Grandpa, why are you crying here? - Father Daniel asks him when we found him there not far from our ruined church.
He tried to acquire everyone for the Kingdom of Heaven
He sits there among this garbage he has collected, just like a child.
“Yes,” he began to lament, “they kicked me out.” And I have nowhere to go.
- Don't cry! – the priest immediately cheered him up. - We won’t let you offend. Cling to us!
So he became our assistant.
- How is Misha? – I later asked Father Daniil, when I had already entered the seminary.
- Misha is good there. Like some problem, he runs and solves it right away. He took root in the yard. Our person!
Father Daniel has everything – his and ours. He tried to acquire everyone for the Kingdom of Heaven.
Radonitsa, 1985. Father Daniel - hierodeacon with a candle and censer, future Archpriest Alexander Tikhonov third from left
A road is not a thing, but a memory of a person
He had a huge flock. So many good, educated, bright people. Look: they are all like family. The priest diligently led and looked after each and every one of them - not so that as soon as a person gets used to the Church, then that’s it: figure it out yourself. No, the priest suggested something to everyone according to his spiritual age, led him further, further. There can be no stops if this is truly a spiritual life.
Shepherds have different children, but the priest’s children were all kind of obedient. It is necessary to somehow be able to arrange souls in this way.
And the brethren of the Danilov Monastery loved Father Daniil very much.
I had to go to the priest’s cell and help him. Previously, the priest lived in the “sick hospital”, which is the building on the right at the entrance to the monastery. It was such a dilapidated room, with rotten beams - it was about to collapse. But somehow he didn’t pay attention to anything external, he prayed to himself and prayed. Then, as the reconstruction began, I helped him move his things to the new cell. There were very few of them. Father easily gave us, the boys, the key to his cell.
You come, I remember, you think: he doesn’t have time, I’ll clean up. Once he began to take revenge, I looked: he didn’t even have a bed! It turns out that these are two bedside tables, and on them there is a sheet of chipboard, and on top there is such a thin mattress...
I look: he doesn’t even have a bed! It turns out that these are two bedside tables, and a sheet of chipboard is placed on them
I also remember that he had a wooden bench there. He still had it in his old cell. And when he moved, he took care of this shop. And I started to balk:
- Yes, there’s nowhere to put her in the new cell...
“No, we need to take this bench,” Father Daniil suddenly became worried. – One very good person made it (and it is really surprisingly well made). – We must not forget this grandfather!
Apparently, by that time he had already died... And so, it was not the thing in itself, but the memory of the person that was dear to the priest.
I remember my father put the icon on this bench. Belt - the prophet Daniel. And in his room there was only a closet with books and a desk, also covered with books. On the wall there was a small icon in which there was a tonsure candle and a cross. That's all. The icons in the cell were very simple. And what they brought to him - once a whole home iconostasis, ancient icons (someone died, and relatives passed them on) - he immediately gave it all away. As soon as anyone liked it, the priest immediately handed it over! No regrets.
I was not attached to things, I did not seek consolation for myself. I was ready to give everything
And the children always brought him gifts. They all stayed in his hallway - he didn’t even bring them into his cell. And then the brothers will come to him:
- Father, can I?
- Take it.
I was not attached to things, I did not seek consolation for myself. I was ready to give everything. They brought him money in envelopes, and everything was also given away. Brothers - he will give some for vacation, another for treatment. The father did not care about himself. I didn't feel sorry for myself.
Down the stairs and up again - not exercise, but an ascetic exercise
He was a faster and a man of prayer. During the first week of Lent, I didn’t take anything into my mouth at all. I remember I brought him a modest ration from the meal, and he turned me around:
- So, Alexander, take everything and bring it back. I didn't ask you.
But he was lenient towards others regarding fasting and other ascetic deeds.
“The main thing,” he said, “is that the fumes of all this food, its diversity, do not overshadow your mind and reason.”
In our nature, everything is interconnected - so a person eats to his fill, and then goes on a rampage, making so many mischief. But all that was needed was to be more moderate in the elementary things, in food, for example. To somehow outwardly restrain oneself. I remember we kids took off up the stairs in the fraternal building - not two, but four steps we flew. And above is Father Daniel:
- So, my friends, come on, we went downstairs again, went out into the street and calmly went back up.
This, by the way, also teaches inner sedateness, which is so necessary in spiritual life.
The priest himself is usually not seen or heard. He could have suddenly grown up in front of you. Yes, and he will enter the temple unnoticed, stand to the side, and pray. I never declared myself, never exposed myself to anyone. A modest, quiet man of deep spiritual life.
In some difficult cases, the priest could redirect you to Father John (Krestyankin), for example. I remember I approached him with some confusing question...
“Oh,” says the priest, “why didn’t I take you to Father John?” We should have taken you to Pechory. I just went. Why didn’t I think of taking you with me?
I remember you told Father John about Father Daniel, and he:
“We pray for him, we remember him,” he immediately responded.
There was a spiritual connection between them. Like among all ascetics, probably.
I remember Father Daniel used to get tired and look somewhere into the distance... As if he was looking at some secret of God. Next to him, the transcendence of existence was felt. He was constantly in prayer - completely absorbed in himself, collected, and never said unnecessary words. Didn't just talk anything. Didn't laugh. Reasonable. Calm. If anyone started to create some kind of panic, the priest will calm everyone down:
-So, let’s pray, brothers. Calmly. No fuss.
And then the question that has outraged someone begins to be thoroughly analyzed. Directly in phrases - the person explains it to him, and he:
- What if here? But like this?.. – in some ways it was just like the method of Father John (Krestyankin).
So the priest also reflected with you. I never gave any recommendations to the meeting. He did everything with the deepest reasoning.
He always recalled the words of St. Seraphim of Sarov: acquire a peaceful spirit, and thousands around you will be saved. There is no need to rush around, imagine something utter, indignant: how is this possible, it didn’t work out my way?! Gain a peaceful spirit! And then everything will go God’s way in your life.
Father Daniel himself acquired a peaceful spirit. Now we would not lose this saving trajectory: to go one after another - to God.
