A few words to the portrait of the “harmful father Nathanael” / Orthodoxy.Ru

A few words to the portrait of the “harmful father Nathanael”

On August 8, the Pskov-Pechersk monastery remembers Archimandrite Nathanael (Pospelov), who on this day in 2002 reposed in the Lord.

Thanks to the bestseller “Unholy Saints,” where the long-time treasurer of the Pskov-Pechersky Monastery was very vividly presented, millions of readers learned about the “harmful” Father Nathanael (Pospelov).

He truly was an incredible hard worker, who until the end of his days wore an old working cassock with an invariable canvas bag over his shoulder, like an ordinary novice.

Father Nathanael came to the monastery after the war, in 1947, during one of the most difficult periods of restoration of the monastic economy. The entire meal of the inhabitants of that time consisted of a piece of bread, water, and sometimes vegetables. And I had to work a lot, and work physically.

Father Nathanael recalled how they worked in the field for 12 hours until they were so exhausted that they fell into the furrow from fatigue. At the same time, he never abandoned the rule: after 50 minutes of work, it is obligatory to devote 10 minutes to reading the patristic writings. This confused many, but Elder Simeon blessed the rule to continue.

From that period of his life, Father Nathanael recalled how, in addition to his daytime labors, he also had to be on duty at the monastery field at night, protecting the harvest from thieves. And in order not to accidentally fall asleep, he climbed into the bag up to his waist and asked him to tie this bag to a tree.

Kronid Pospelov, future father Nathanael. Photo from 1941. We all “come from childhood.” And it is there that one must look for the reason for such incredibly devoted service as Father Nathanael had.

Kronid (the secular name of Father Nathanael) was born on June 11, 1920 in the Moscow region into the family of priest Nikolai Vasilyevich Pospelov and served his father in the church from childhood.

In 1937, my father was arrested, and the family did not know for a long time that he was soon shot (in 2000, Archpriest Nikolai Pospelov was canonized among the host of New Martyrs and Confessors of Russia).

Hungry youth, studying at a technical school. There was not enough paper at that time, so much of the educational material had to be learned by heart. Until his last days, Father Nathanael retained a phenomenal memory. He remembered not only names and dates, composed liturgical instructions, but also quoted the Holy Scriptures, lives of saints, and patristic works.

Hieromartyr Nikolai Pospelov

Father Nathanael said: the students knew that he was the son of a priest, they pestered him with various provocative conversations, so that in order to overcome temptations he had to develop self-control. But at the end of the technical school, handing him a diploma with honors, the management admitted: “You studied with us so much, Pospelov, but we still didn’t understand what kind of person you are!” Was it not then that Father Nathanael learned to fend off the “inconvenient” questions that numerous tourists later asked him?

– Tell me: how soon will the end of the world come? – young ladies in mini-dresses asked with laughter at the “dark priests”.

– The end of the world is approaching in direct proportion to the shortening of your skirts! – Father Nathanael retorted.

With Father Alypiy

Not only the guides, who warned tourists not to ask questions to Father Nathanael, were afraid of him, but also those who worked at the monastery during obediences. He really had the amazing ability to appear at the most inopportune moment. It seemed that his keen gaze penetrated right through, and his short edifying remarks made you tremble.

One day, several people gathered in the corridor of the fraternal building, wanting to get an appointment with Father Adrian. The elder himself went out to the people with holy oil to anoint all those who were suffering. And then suddenly Father Nathanael appeared. The people fell silent, and he, humbly taking off his stool, stood at the end of the line for anointing. When it was his turn, Father Adrian, seeing him, was touched and, anointing Father Nathanael’s forehead, said: “The smartest man in our monastery!” Having greeted each other cordially, they parted ways, like heroes of an ancient patericon...

Father Nathanael, humbly taking off his stool, stood at the end of the line for anointing

It is impossible not to tell one amazing story that happened to Father Nathanael during the war. Not far from the village of Vydropussk, Tver Region, construction of an airfield began, where Private Pospelov served. The work involved German prisoners, who were settled in the church where the miraculous Icon of the Mother of God of Vydropus (15th century) was kept. It was cold, and the Red Army soldiers gave the order to heat the temple with icons. Father Nathanael found out about this and rushed to Stepan (the owner of the house where he lived) with a request to get a cart of firewood. He quickly fulfilled the request and took the icon to his house. So it was kept in that family until the temple reopened in the 1990s.

Father Nathanael with the Vydropus Icon of the Mother of God during her stay at the monastery in 2001.

In 2001, the Vydropusskaya Icon of the Mother of God was brought to the monastery. Father was then lying in the infirmary, recovering from a stroke. After the service, they brought him an icon, and he prayed in front of it all night.

On August 10, 2002, Father Nathanael’s funeral service was held. And this was the day of honoring the Vydropus Icon of the Mother of God.

* * *

And here is one of the letters from Father Nathanael, still a layman, to his mother:

Mother Anna Konstantinovna Pospelova

"Dear Mom! Now I only like two things - these are the two Kingdoms of God on earth: one is grace-filled, the other is the kingdom of nature. And with God it’s good everywhere, but without Him it’s bad everywhere. The white nights have already passed. Our summer is ending. Stormy weather begins. And in my life I have no time for the sea anymore. It's time to go to a quiet haven; but still lacks feats of repentance. Not yet ripe. In general, the entire sky is somehow obscured by tall buildings. Read more, read Chrysostom! To fuel faith, hope, love and wisdom.

July 25, 1945 Greetings, Kronid."

Archimandrite Nathanael (Pospelov)

Father Nathanael came to the Pskov-Pechersk monastery at the call of God in 1947, exchanging his military overcoat for a novice’s cassock, and lived here for 55 years. At that time, the monastery, dilapidated by the war, was in poverty, the brethren lived in poverty and deprivation, but faith in God warmed and nourished the monks.

Father Nathanael willingly and unfailingly fulfilled any obedience, for he firmly believed that obedience was the surest and shortest path to salvation. Father Nathanael worked a lot in various obediences: he was in general and agricultural work, guarded the monastery garden and was in charge of the woodshed, was a refectory and baker, a guide in caves, and replaced the governor.

Of the 82 years of his life, Father Nathanael spent 50 years as a minister of the Church: he went a long way from a sexton to an archimandrite.

He worked and prayed with such ascetics of piety as Hieroschemamonk Simeon and the Valaam elders: Schema-Abbot Luke and Hieroschemamonk Michael, and served as a deacon with Metropolitan Veniamin (Fedchenkov).

He followed his monastic path under the guidance of Archimandrite Pimen (later His Holiness the Patriarch) and Archimandrite Alipius (Voronov).

Autobiography of Archimandrite Nathanael before entering the monastery (1947)

I, Pospelov Kronid Nikolaevich was born in 1920 in the village of Zakolpie, Gus-Khrustalny district, Vladimir region, in the family of a priest, Father Nikolai Vasilyevich Pospelov.

In 1923, the family moved to the village of Zhitenino, Orekhovo-Zuevsky district, Moscow region.

From an early age I helped my father, acting as a sexton and then as a reader.

He graduated from primary school in the village of Voinova Gora, Orekhovo-Zuevsky district, Moscow region in 1937 and entered the Noginsk Mechanical College, from which in November 1940 he was transferred to the Moscow Textile College, which he graduated in May 1941, having received the qualification of a mechanical technician. cold mining of metals.

After graduating from college, until December 9, 1941, he worked as a shift foreman in the mechanical repair shop of the Kosterevsky bobbin-reel-shuttle plant of the Petushinsky plant, Petushinsky district, Moscow region.

From December 9, 1941 to the present, I worked in construction and work columns as a conscript, using my free time to read the Word of God, pray, and from December 1944 I regularly visited the Kazan Church (Velikie Luki) until May 20, 1945 , helping the priest during holidays, Lent and Easter (acted as sexton and reader).

Since May 23, 1945, I have been in Leningrad, regularly visiting the St. Nicholas Cathedral.

Having completed my service in the construction column, I wish to devote the rest of my life to serving the Lord in the monastery.

My father, Archpriest Nikolai Vasilyevich Pospelov, was arrested in January 1938 in the village. Bylovo, Krasno-Pakharsky district, Moscow region.

Pospelova’s mother Anna Konstantinovna lives in the village of Voinova Gora, Orekhovo-Zuevsky district, Moscow region.

PORTAL CONTACTS

If at that time someone had suggested naming the most harmful person in Pechory, then without a doubt he would have heard only one name in response - the treasurer of the Pskov-Pechersky Monastery, Archimandrite Father Nathanael. Moreover, priests and novices, monks and laity, communists from the Pechora KGB department and local dissidents would be unanimous in this choice. The fact is that Father Nathanael was not just harmful. He was very harmful.

By the time I recognized him, he was a thin old man with a sharp, piercing gaze.
He was dressed both in winter and summer in an old, washed-out cassock with a torn hem. He usually carried a canvas bag over his shoulders, and it could contain anything - crackers donated by some grandmother, and a million rubles. Both of these, in the eyes of the treasurer’s father, were of extreme value, since they were sent to the monastery by the Lord God. Father Nathanael dragged and hid all this property in his numerous hidden cells and warehouses. The finances of the monastery were entirely under the jurisdiction and management of Father Nathanael. And there was plenty to spend on: every day up to 400 pilgrims and 100 monks sat down at the table at the monastery. It was necessary to provide for endless monastery repairs, new construction projects, and even the daily everyday needs of the brethren, and help for the poor, and the reception of guests, and gifts for officials... And much more. How Father Nathanael alone dealt with all these financial problems was unknown to anyone. However, all the monastic paperwork lay on his shoulders. And also - drawing up the rules for daily long monastic services, the duties of the monastic secretary, answering letters from people who addressed the monastery on a variety of issues, and, finally, he shared with Father Vicar the work of very, as a rule, unpleasant communication with official Soviet bodies . Father Nathanael performed all these duties, the mere listing of which would make any normal person feel ill, with such inspiration and scrupulousness that we sometimes doubted whether there was anything left in him other than a church bureaucrat.

In addition, Father Treasurer had the responsibility of supervising us, the novices. And there is no doubt that he carried out this task with his characteristic meticulousness: he spied, looked out, eavesdropped - no matter what we did against the regulations or to the detriment of the monastery. Although, to be honest, it was really necessary to look after the novices: we came from the world to the monastery as pretty slobs.

He had another fantastic feature: he always appeared exactly at the moment when he was least expected. Let's say, the monastic youth will evade obedience and settle down somewhere on the walkway of the ancient walls to relax, chat, and bask in the sun. Suddenly, as if from underground, Father Nathanael appears. And, shaking his beard, he will begin to reprimand in his crackling voice, which is especially unbearable at such moments, so much so that the novices are ready to fall into the ground, just so that this torture will end.

In his zeal, Father Nathanael literally did not eat or sleep. He was not just an ascetic: no one, for example, had ever seen him drink tea, but only plain water. And at lunch I ate barely a fifth of what was served. Every evening he certainly came to dinner at the fraternal refectory, but only for the purpose of sitting in front of an empty plate, meticulously observing the order.

At the same time, his energy was amazing. We didn't know when he slept. Even at night, light filtered through the shutters in the windows of his cell. The old monks said that in his cell he either prayed or counted the mountains of rubles and three rubles collected during the day. He still had to carefully tie up all this untold wealth into bundles and put the small change into bags. When he finished with this, he began to write instructions and explanations for tomorrow's service: no one, like Father Nathanael, understood all the features and intricacies of the monastery's statutory services.

But even if the light in his cell went off at night, everyone knew perfectly well that this did not mean that we could consider ourselves free from his supervision, at least for a while. No, all night long, at any moment, Father Nathanael could appear here and there, checking to see if anyone was walking around the monastery, which was strictly prohibited.

I remember one winter night, after staying late visiting one of the brethren at the bottom of the angel, we made our way to our cells. And suddenly, five steps from us, the figure of Father Nathanael emerged from the darkness. We froze in horror. But after a few moments we were surprised to realize that this time the treasurer did not see us. And he behaved somehow strangely. He could barely drag his feet and even staggered, hunched over under his bag. Then we saw how he climbed over the low picket fence of the front garden and suddenly lay down in the snow right on the flowerbed.

"Died!" – flashed through our heads.

We waited a little and, holding our breath, carefully approached him. Father Nathanael lay in the snow and slept. I was just sleeping. He breathed evenly and even snored. He had a bag under his head, which he hugged with both hands.

We decided not to leave under any circumstances until we saw what would happen next, and, hiding from the light of the lantern in the shadow of the water-blessed chapel, we began to wait. An hour later, we, completely numb, saw how Father Nathanael suddenly cheerfully rose from the flowerbed, shook off the snow that had dusted him and, throwing the bag over his back, went on his way as if nothing had happened.

Then we understood absolutely nothing. And only then did the monks who had known the treasurer for a long time explain that Father Nathanael was simply very tired and wanted to sleep comfortably. Comfortable in the sense of lying down. Because in his cell he slept only while sitting. And in order not to bask in bed, he preferred to sleep in the snow.

However, everything that concerned the lifestyle of the Pechora treasurer in his cell was just our guesses. The harmful father Nathanael did not allow anyone into his innermost inner world. What can I say - he didn’t even let anyone into his cell! Including the all-powerful father of the Viceroy. Although it seemed completely impossible that the Vicar, Father Gabriel, could not enter somewhere in his monastery. Moreover, the treasurer’s cell was located not just anywhere, but on the first floor in the house where the Viceroy lived, right under his chambers. Of course, it was impossible for the owner of the monastery to put up with this state of affairs. And then one day, after some festive dinner, Father Viceroy, being in a wonderful mood, announced to Father Nathanael that he was going to visit him without delay to drink tea.

Several people from the brethren who were nearby at that moment immediately realized that something amazing was about to happen to the mind, soul and every human imagination. Missing the opportunity to see such an event would be unforgivable. So, thanks to witnesses, the description of this story has been preserved.

Father Vicar solemnly and inexorably moved through the monastery courtyard to the cell of Father Nathanael. And the treasurer trotted behind him and, with a great cry, persuaded Father Viceroy to abandon his idea. He begged him to do something soul-saving, useful, and not idle walks through dilapidated rooms that were absolutely of no interest to anyone. He colorfully described what a mess his cell was, that he had not cleaned it for twenty-six years, that the air in the cell was unbearably musty... Finally, in complete despair, Father Nathanael almost resorted to threats, thinking loudly that he should under no circumstances expose the precious life of the Viceroy's father is in danger, which may lie in wait for him among the rubble of the treasury dwelling.

- Well, that's enough, Father Treasurer! - the Viceroy finally interrupted him with irritation, standing in front of the cell door. - Open it up and show me what you have there!

It was clear that, despite his angry tone, Father Viceroy was filled with real curiosity.

Having finally realized that now there was no escape, Father Nathanael somehow suddenly even cheered up and, having bravely reported to the monk “Bless, Father Viceroy!”, rattled the keys and opened the treasured door for the authorities, which for four decades until that moment had only been opened exactly enough to let thin Father Nathanael through...

Behind the wide open door yawned complete, impenetrable darkness: the windows in the mysterious cell were shuttered day and night. Father Nathanael himself was the first to slip into this black darkness. And then he disappeared, like a failure. In any case, not a sound was heard from the cell.

Father Viceroy, following him, carefully stepped over the threshold of the door and, grunting uncertainly, said in a deep voice:

- Why is it so dark here? Is there electricity? Where's the switch?

- To your right, Father Viceroy! – the treasurer’s voice rattled helpfully from the impenetrable darkness. - Just extend your hand!

The next moment, the heartbreaking cry of Father Viceroy was heard, and some unknown force carried him out of the darkness of the treasury cell into the monastery corridor. Following him, Father Nathanael quickly emerged into the light. In a split second, he locked the door behind him three times and rushed towards the stunned Viceroy. Oohing and aahing, the treasurer began to blow off specks of dust and straighten the cassock on Father Viceroy, wailing excitedly:

- That’s bad luck, Lord have mercy! This switch... you have to get used to it. It broke down back in sixty-four, on the Intercession of the Mother of God, exactly on the day when Khrushchev was removed. Sign! In the morning the switch fell off - in the evening Nikita was removed! Since then I have not returned this switch back. And no, no, no electricians - I set everything up myself: two wires are sticking out of the wall: if you connect, the light comes on, if you disconnect, it goes out. But, of course, you have to adapt, it’s true! But not all at once, not all at once!.. So, Father Viceroy, you are welcome, now I will open the door again, and we will come in peace! Now you know how to use my switch. And there are still a lot of interesting things!

But by the end of this holy fool’s speech, there was no trace of the Viceroy.

With all this, Father Nathanael was truly a model of obedience, he wrote long odes in honor of the Father Viceroy, in honor of the Pskov-Pechersky Monastery, and also composed moralizing poetic sermons in five sheets.

* * *

Father Nathanael’s harmfulness also extended to the powerful Soviet state, especially when it interfered too unceremoniously in monastic life. They say that it was Father Nathanael who gave especially subtle advice to the great Pechora Viceroy, Archimandrite Alypiy, when even he was in some difficulty due to the pressure and rudeness of the authorities.

This happened in the late sixties. As you know, in those years all citizens of the Soviet Union had to take part in elections. At the monastery, the voting box was brought to the refectory, where after lunch the brethren, under the supervision of the Viceroy, grumbling with displeasure, gave to Caesar what was Caesar's.

But somehow the first secretary of the Pskov regional committee of the CPSU found out that some ignorant monks were given an absurd exemption, so that they vote for an indestructible bloc of communists and non-party people in their outdated historical monastery, and not at the polling station. The first secretary of the Pskov regional committee of the CPSU was indignant and gave his subordinates a merciless crackdown for conniving with the unemployed element. And he immediately ordered that from now on until the end of the century, the Chernets come to the elections to the Supreme Soviet of the USSR like all Soviet people - to the polling stations at their place of residence!

It was then, as they say, that Father Nathanael whispered into the ear of the Viceroy, Father Alypius, that very subtle advice.

On election day (which was Sunday), after the festive monastic liturgy, a solemn religious procession left the gates of the monastery.

Lined up two by two, in a long line, to the friendly singing of troparions, the monks marched through the entire city to the polling station. Heavy banners fluttered above their heads, and crosses and ancient icons flew ahead, as usual. But that was not all. As is customary before any important matter, the clergy began to perform a prayer service in the election hall. The scared to death officials tried to protest, but Father Alypius sternly cut them off, instructing them not to interfere with citizens fulfilling their constitutional duty as they should. Having voted, the brethren returned to the holy monastery in the same orderly religious procession.

There is no need to explain that for the next elections, the ballot box was waiting for the monks again in the monastery refectory from early morning.

And at the same time, Father Nathanael, who strictly looked after us, always suppressed public manifestations of opposition to the state, and especially attempts at dissidence. At first this seemed almost outrageous to us. We thought the treasurer was simply fawning over the authorities. But then we gradually learned that Father Nathanael more than once or twice encountered provocateurs or disguised operatives sent to the monastery. But even fully understanding that these were sincere people before him, Father Nathanael still every time cut short the free-thinking we so loved. And not only because he protected the monastery. But rather because he protected us from our own foolishness, fanaticism and youthful ardor mixed with the simplest pride. He did not value words highly, even the most heroic ones, and he knew about Soviet power and everything that was happening in the country, not like we do - mostly by hearsay and from books. And also because Father Nathanael had a sober and very personal attitude towards the Soviet regime, because his father, priest Nikolai Pospelov, was shot for his faith in 1937. Having gone through the entire war as a soldier, Father Nathanael became a novice of the great Viceroy Archimandrite Alypius and the spiritual son of the holy Pechora elder and wonderworker Hieroschemamonk Simeon. And both of them, seeing in him a man of crystal honesty and an unusually lively mind, made him the treasurer and secretary of the monastery during the most difficult years of Khrushchev’s persecution of the Church and trusted him with the most intimate secrets of the monastery.

And also to the question of Soviet power. One summer night I was obedient to the duty officer in the square in front of the Assumption Church. The stars twinkled faintly in the northern sky. Peace and quiet. The clock on the tower loudly struck three times... And suddenly I felt that someone appeared behind me. I turned around in fear. It was Father Nathanael. He stood nearby and looked at the starry sky. Then he asked thoughtfully:

– Georgy, what do you think about the main principle of communism?

Pskov-Pechersky Monastery. Assumption Square. 1983 Three o'clock in the morning. Stars…

Without expecting an answer from me, Father Nathanael continued thoughtfully:

– The main principle of communism is “from each according to his ability, to each according to his needs.” But, of course, some commission will determine “abilities”, “needs”? And what commission?.. Most likely - “three”! They’ll call me and say: “Well, Nathanael, what are your abilities? You can cut twenty cubic meters of wood a day! What are the needs? Bean soup!.. That’s the whole main principle...

Although Father Nathanael always carefully emphasized that he was nothing more than a pedantic administrator and a dry servant, even we, novices, after some time began to guess that he was simply carefully hiding his spiritual gifts, as, however, all the real ones did monks in the monastery. Father Treasurer was not the official monastery confessor. Only a few Pechora old-timers from the city went to confession to him, and others came to him from distant places. He did not accept the rest as confessor, citing his inability to do this job.

But one day he briefly revealed the innermost part of his soul. Although he immediately hid again behind his usual severity and grumpiness. I somehow did something wrong during obedience. It seems that I carried out the task entrusted to me very carelessly. For this, Father Viceroy himself assigned me to clear snow from all over Assumption Square for three days. I was pretty angry then, and it kept snowing and falling, so by the third day I was not only tired, but could barely drag my feet. I felt so sorry for myself, I was so pouting at the whole world that I even seriously began to hatch a plan for revenge. But what is the novice’s revenge on the Viceroy? The scale is completely incomparable. And yet, working with my last strength with a shovel, I cherished the following picture in my heart. When the Viceroy passes me for lunch at the fraternal refectory, he will probably sarcastically ask: “Well, how are you living, George?” And then I will answer - cheerfully and carefree, as if these three days of hard labor never happened: “Best of all, Father Viceroy! By your holy prayers!” And then he will understand that I cannot be broken so easily!

The picture of this terrible revenge warmed my heart so much that even in the midst of the incessant snowfall I felt much more cheerful. When Father Nathanael passed nearby, I even smiled at him, approaching him for the blessing. In response, he also grinned very affably and made the sign of the cross at me. I bent down to kiss his hand and suddenly heard a creaky voice above me:

- So it means: “Best of all, Father Viceroy!” By your holy prayers!”?

I froze, bent over, as if from sciatica. When I finally decided to raise my eyes to the elder, he looked at me with undisguised malice. But, noticing my horror, he said with real kindness:

- Look, Georgy, insolence has never brought anyone any good!

And, throwing his bag with a million, or maybe with crackers, he creaked through the frosty snow towards the fraternal building. And I remained standing with my mouth open and just watched as the torn out sole on the treasurer’s shoe dangled with every step.

Well, a real Plyushkin! Only a saint.

As one venerable St. Petersburg archpriest said: “One year of the Pskov-Pechersk Monastery is the same as fifty years of theological academy.” How we learned these lessons is another matter... But this is another and, admittedly, very bitter question.

By the way, Father Nathanael was the most serious about Plyushkin. In addition to the fact that he was shaking over every monastic penny, he frantically rushed to turn off all the idle light bulbs, saved water, gas and in general everything that could be saved and saved.

And he also strictly kept watch over the centuries-old foundations of the monastery and the ancient monastic regulations. For example, he hated it when one of the brethren went on vacation. Although medical leave was reserved for those who needed it, Father Nathanael still did not accept or tolerate it at all. He himself, of course, never went on vacation during all his fifty-five years at the monastery. The governor, Archimandrite Gabriel, also never took advantage of vacation and looked askance at those who came to him with requests to leave.

Once, I remember, the Viceroy nevertheless blessed one hieromonk to go on summer vacation. He blessed him, but ordered him to get money for the trip from the treasurer.

I was on duty at Assumption Square at the time and witnessed this scene. It began with the fact that the hieromonk, who was getting ready to go on vacation, knocked for a long time and in vain on the door of Father Nathanael’s cell. The treasurer, immediately understanding what was going on, hid and did not open it. Then the priest decided to starve the treasurer’s father to death. He sat down on a bench at a distance and began to wait. About four hours later, Father Nathanael, looking around cautiously, went out into the square, and then a vacationer overtook him with a written blessing from the Viceroy to give him money for the trip.

Seeing the paper, Father Nathanael froze, completely killed, and then fell to the ground with a scream and, raising his arms and legs to the sky (at the same time, tattered shoes and blue faded underpants were revealed from under his cassock), shouted at the top of his voice:

- Guard! Help! They're robbing!!! Give them money! They want to go on vacation! Tired of the monastery! Tired of the Mother of God! They're robbing! Guard! Help!!!

The poor priest even sat down in horror. Amazed foreign tourists stood with their mouths open in the square. Grabbing his head, the hieromonk rushed headlong into his cell. And the Viceroy, standing on the balcony of the abbot’s house, terribly pleased, looked at this whole picture.

Seeing that the danger had passed, Father Nathanael stood up quite calmly, shook off the dust and went about his business.

It gave us special joy when we received the obedience to help Father Nathanael conduct excursions around the monastery. As a rule, he was entrusted with leading some especially important persons. That story with President Yeltsin and the head of state’s acquaintance with the peculiarities of the holy caves occurred, of course, with the participation of Father Nathanael. Our novitiate duties included only opening and closing the heavy church doors behind visitors. The rest of the time we listened to Father Nathanael. And there was something to listen to. Father Nathanael continued the traditions of his teacher, the great Vicar Archimandrite Alypius, who defended the monastery and faith in God during the most difficult times of Khrushchev’s persecutions. And Alipiev’s gift of wise and sometimes merciless words was inherited by Father Nathanael.

In those atheistic years, Soviet workers who came to the monastery expected to see anyone: obscurantists, cunning grabbers, dark subhumans, but not those whom they actually met - uniquely, but very interestingly educated, smart people, unusually brave and internally free people who know something that the guests didn’t even know about. Within a few minutes, it became clear to the excursionists that they had never met such people in their entire lives.

Once, and this was in 1986, the Pskov party leadership brought a high official from the Ministry of Transport to the monastery. He turned out to be a surprisingly calm and decent person: he didn’t ask idiotic questions, say, about which building the monks’ wives lived in, and wasn’t interested in why Gagarin flew into space but didn’t see God. But in the end, after two hours of communication with Father Nathanael, the official, amazed by his new interlocutor, nevertheless said:

– Listen, I’m simply shocked by communication with you! I have never met such an interesting and unusual person in my entire life! But excuse me, how can you and your intelligence believe in... Well, you yourself understand what! After all, science is revealing more and more new horizons to humanity. And God is not there! Sorry, it's just not needed. This year, Halley's Comet is approaching the Earth from the depths of the Universe. And scientists, imagine, accurately calculated its entire route! And speed! And the trajectory! And for this, forgive me, no idea of God is needed!

- Comet, you say? Halley?.. – Father Nathanael shook his beard. - So, if everything with the comet has been calculated, then the Lord God is not needed? Well, yes, I see!.. But imagine - if you put me on a hill near the railroad and give me paper and a pencil. After all, in a week I will be able to tell you exactly when and in which direction the trains will run. But this doesn’t mean that there are no conductors, dispatchers, drivers?.. Ministers of Railways? Doesn't that mean it? Management – you need it everywhere!

But not all such conversations ended peacefully. One day an excursion arrived at the monastery, the composition of which was announced to us in a whisper: the children of members of the Central Committee. I don’t know if this was true, but the young people turned out to be very ill-mannered. Such golden Moscow youth of the mid-eighties, whom I knew very well. The young people were constantly laughing, pointing at the monks and asking the same idiotic questions. But there was nothing to do, and Father Nathanael led them around the monastery.

The excursion began with the caves, at the very beginning of which there is a tiny cell with one small window. In this cell at the beginning of the 19th century, the recluse Hieroschemamonk Lazar labored. This is where he is buried. His heavy iron cross and chains hang above the gravestone.

“It was in this cell, without leaving for twenty-five years, that Hieroschemamonk Lazar labored,” Father Nathanael began his excursion. – I will now tell you about this amazing ascetic.

– Where did this Lazarus of yours go to the toilet here? – one of the young tourists asked loudly.

His companions simply roared with laughter.

Father Nathanael patiently waited until they calmed down and calmly said:

-Where did you go to the toilet? Okay, I'll show you now!

He led several puzzled tourists out of the caves and led them through the entire monastery to the utility yard, hidden from prying eyes. Here, on the outskirts, huddled an old, necessary closet. Having lined up the tourists in a semicircle in front of this establishment, as they usually do before an important exhibit, Father Nathanael solemnly pointed at it with his hand and said:

– This is where Hieroschemamonk Lazar went to the toilet! Now stand and watch!

And, turning his back to the astonished young people, he left them alone.

When they came to their senses, the senior group found the Viceroy and expressed his indignation at everything that had happened. To which Father Viceroy replied:

– Archimandrite Nathanael reported to me what you were interested in. This is exactly what he showed you. We can't help you any more!

It must be taken into account that the year was 1984. And then everything was not so simple. Serious troubles could also happen. But the governors of the Pskov-Pechersky Monastery were traditionally strong people.

* * *

The harmful father Nathanael died unusually quietly and humbly. When doctors suggested putting him on a cardiac pacemaker, he begged Father Viceroy not to do this:

“Fathers, imagine,” he said, “the soul wants to go to God, and some small electrical thing forcibly pushes it back into the body!” Let my soul depart in its own time!

I had the good fortune to visit Father Nathanael shortly before his death and was amazed by his endless kindness and love. Instead of conserving the last strength remaining for life, this incredibly thrifty church miser in everything else gave all of himself to the person whom the Lord God sent to him for only a few minutes. As, however, he did this all his life. Only once upon a time we did not understand this.

Archimandrite Tikhon (Shevkunov) Orthodoxy.ru

If at that time someone had suggested naming the most harmful person in Pechory, then, without a doubt, they would have heard only one name in response - the treasurer of the Pskov-Pechersky Monastery, Archimandrite Father Nathanael. Moreover, priests and novices, monks and laity, communists from the Pechersk KGB department and local dissidents would be unanimous in this choice. The fact is that Father Nathanael was not just harmful. He was very harmful.

By the time I recognized him, he was a thin old man of advanced years with a sharp, piercing gaze. He was dressed both in winter and summer in an old, washed-out cassock with a torn hem. He usually carried a canvas bag over his shoulders, and it could contain anything - crackers donated by some grandmother, and a million rubles. Both of these, in the eyes of the treasurer’s father, were of extreme value, since they were sent to the monastery by the Lord God. Father Nathanael dragged and hid all this property in his numerous hidden cells and warehouses.

The finances of the monastery were completely under the jurisdiction and management of Father Nathanael. And there was plenty to spend on: every day up to four hundred pilgrims and a hundred monks sat down at the table at the monastery. It was necessary to ensure endless monastery repairs and new construction projects. And in addition - the everyday everyday needs of the brethren, and helping the poor, and receiving guests, and gifts for officials... And much more. How Father Nathanael alone copes with all these financial problems was unknown to anyone. However, all the monastic paperwork lay on his shoulders. And also - drawing up regulations for daily long services, the duties of the monastery secretary, answering letters from people who contacted the monastery on a variety of issues. And finally, he shared with his father, the governor, the work of communicating - as a rule, very unpleasant - with official Soviet bodies. All these duties, the mere listing of which would make any normal person feel ill, Father Nathanael performed with such inspiration and scrupulousness that we sometimes doubted whether there was anything left in him other than a church bureaucrat.

In addition, Father Treasurer had the responsibility of supervising us, the novices. And there is no doubt that he carried out this task with his characteristic meticulousness: he spied, looked out, eavesdropped - no matter how we did anything against the regulations or to the detriment of the monastery. Although, to be honest, it was really necessary to look after the novices: we came from the world to the monastery as pretty slobs.

Father Nathanael had another fantastic feature: he always appeared exactly at the moment when he was least expected. Let's say, the monastic youth will evade obedience and settle down somewhere on the walkway of the ancient walls to relax, chat, and bask in the sun. Suddenly, as if out of thin air, Father Nathanael appears. And, shaking his beard, he begins to reprimand in his crackling voice, which is especially unbearable at such moments. So much so that the novices are ready to fall into the ground just to end this torture.

In his zeal, Father Nathanael literally did not eat or sleep. He was not just an ascetic: no one, for example, had ever seen him drink tea - only plain water. And at lunch I ate barely a fifth of what was served. But every evening he certainly came to the fraternal refectory for dinner, though only for the purpose of sitting in front of an empty plate and meticulously observing order.

At the same time, his energy was amazing. We didn't know when he slept. Even at night, light filtered through the shutters from the windows of his cell. The old monks said that in his cell he either prayed or counted the piles of rubles and rubles collected during the day. He still had to carefully tie up all this untold wealth into bundles and put the small change into bags. When he finished with this, he began to write instructions and explanations for tomorrow's service: no one, like Father Nathanael, understood all the features and intricacies of the monastery's statutory services.

However, even if the light in his cell was turned off, this did not mean at all that we could at least temporarily consider ourselves free from his supervision. No, all night long, at any moment, Father Nathanael was ready to appear here and there, checking to see if anyone was walking around the monastery, which was strictly prohibited.

I remember one winter night, after staying late visiting one of the brethren at the bottom of the Angel, we made our way to our cells. And suddenly, five steps from us, the figure of Father Nathanael emerged from the darkness. We froze in horror. But very quickly we realized with surprise that this time the treasurer couldn’t see us. And he behaved somehow strangely. He could barely drag his feet and even staggered, hunched over under his bag. Then we saw how he climbed over the low picket fence of the front garden and suddenly lay down in the snow, right on the flowerbed.

"Died!" - flashed through our heads.

We waited a little and, holding our breath, carefully approached. Father Nathanael lay in the snow and slept. I was just sleeping. He breathed evenly and even snored. He had a bag under his head, which he hugged with both hands.

We decided not to leave until we saw what would happen next. They hid behind the water-blessed chapel and began to wait. An hour later, we, completely numb, saw how Father Nathanael suddenly stood up cheerfully, shook off the snow that had dusted him and, throwing the bag over his back, went on his way as if nothing had happened.

Then we understood absolutely nothing. And only then did the monks who had known the treasurer for a long time explain that Father Nathanael was simply very tired and wanted to sleep comfortably. Comfortable - in the sense of lying down. Because in his cell he slept only while sitting.

And in order not to bask in bed, he preferred to sleep in the snow.

However, everything that concerned the lifestyle of the Pechersk treasurer was just our guesses. The harmful father Nathanael did not allow anyone into his innermost inner world. What can I say - he didn’t even let anyone into his cell! Including the all-powerful father of the governor. Although it seemed completely impossible that the governor, Father Gabriel, could not enter somewhere in his monastery. Moreover, the treasurer’s cell was located not just anywhere, but on the first floor of the house where the governor lived, right under his chambers. Of course, it was impossible for the owner of the monastery to put up with this state of affairs.

And then one day, after some festive dinner, Father Viceroy, being in a wonderful mood, announced to Father Nathanael that he was going to visit him without delay to drink tea.

Father Viceroy solemnly and inexorably moved through the monastery courtyard to the cell of Father Nathanael. And the treasurer trotted behind him and with a great cry convinced the governor’s father to abandon his idea. He begged him to do something soul-saving, useful, and not idle walks through dilapidated rooms that were absolutely of no interest to anyone. He colorfully described what a mess his cell was, that he had not cleaned it for twenty-six years, that the air in his cell was unbearably musty... Finally, in complete despair, Father Nathanael almost resorted to threats, thinking loudly that under no circumstances would he the precious life of the governor’s father must not be exposed to danger, which could lie in wait for him among the rubble of the treasury’s home.

- Well, that's enough, Father Treasurer! - the governor interrupted him with irritation, standing in front of the cell door. - Open it up and show me what you have there!

Despite his angry tone, it was noticeable that the governor’s father was filled with real curiosity.

Having finally realized that now there was nowhere to escape, Father Nathanael somehow suddenly even cheered up and, having bravely reported to the monk “Bless, Father Vicar,” rattled the keys and opened the treasured door for the authorities, which for four decades before that moment had only been opened exactly this much to let the skinny Father Nathanael pass...

The father governor, following him, carefully stepped over the threshold and, grunting uncertainly, said in a deep voice:

- Why is it so dark here? Is there electricity? Where's the switch?

- To your right, father governor! — the treasurer’s voice rattled helpfully from the impenetrable darkness. - Just extend your hand!

The next moment, the heartbreaking cry of the governor’s father was heard, and some unknown force carried him out of the darkness of the treasury cell into the corridor. Following him, Father Nathanael quickly emerged into the light. In a split second, he locked the door behind him three times and rushed towards the stunned governor. Oohing and aahing, the treasurer began to blow off specks of dust and straighten the cassock on his father governor, wailing excitedly:

- That’s bad luck, Lord have mercy! This switch... you have to get used to it. It broke down back in sixty-four, on the Intercession of the Mother of God, exactly on the day when Khrushchev was removed. Sign! In the morning the switch fell off - in the evening Nikita was removed! Since then I have not returned this switch back. And no, no, no electricians - I fixed everything myself. Two wires are sticking out of the wall: if you connect, the light comes on, if you disconnect, it goes out. But, of course, you have to adapt, it’s true! But not all at once, not all at once!.. So, Father Viceroy, you are welcome, now I will open the door again, and we will come in peace! Now you know how to use my switch. And there are still a lot of interesting things!

But by the end of this foolish speech, there was no trace of the governor.

With all this, Father Nathanael was truly a model of obedience, he wrote long odes in honor of the father governor and the Pskov-Pechersk Monastery, and also composed moralizing poetic sermons in five sheets.

* * *

Father Nathanael’s harmfulness also extended to the powerful Soviet state, especially when it interfered too unceremoniously in monastic life. They say that it was Father Nathanael who gave particularly subtle advice to the great Pechersk governor, Archimandrite Alypiy, when even he was in some difficulty from the pressure and rudeness of the authorities.

This happened in the late sixties. As you know, then all citizens of the Soviet Union had to take part in elections. The voting box was brought to the monastery refectory, where after lunch the brethren, under the supervision of the governor, grumbling with displeasure, gave to Caesar what was Caesar's.

But somehow the first secretary of the Pskov regional committee of the CPSU found out that some ignorant monks were allowed an absurd privilege: they vote for an indestructible bloc of communists and non-party members in their outdated historical monastery, and not at the polling station. The first secretary was outraged and gave his subordinates a merciless crackdown for conniving with the unemployed element. And he immediately ordered that from now on until the end of the century, the Chernets come to the elections to the Supreme Soviet of the USSR like all Soviet people - to the polling stations at their place of residence!

It was then, as they say, that Father Nathanael whispered into the ear of the governor, Father Alypius, that very subtle advice.

On election day (which was Sunday), after the festive monastic liturgy, a solemn religious procession left the gates of the monastery.

Lined up two by two, in a long line, to the friendly singing of troparions, the monks marched through the entire city to the polling station. Heavy banners fluttered above their heads, and in front, according to custom, they carried crosses and ancient icons. But that was not all. As is expected before any important matter, the clergy began to perform a prayer service in the election hall. The scared to death officials tried to protest, but Father Alypius sternly cut them off, instructing them not to interfere with citizens fulfilling their constitutional duty as they should. Having voted, the brethren returned to the holy monastery in the same orderly religious procession.

There is no need to explain that for the next elections, the ballot box was again waiting for the monks in the monastery refectory from early morning.

And at the same time, Father Nathanael, who strictly looked after us, always suppressed public manifestations of opposition to the state and, even more so, attempts at dissidence. At first they thought that the treasurer was simply fawning over the authorities. But then we gradually learned that Father Nathanael more than once or twice encountered provocateurs or disguised operatives sent to the monastery. But even fully understanding that these were sincere people before him, Father Nathanael still every time cut short the free-thinking we so loved. And not only because he protected the monastery. But rather because he protected us from our own foolishness, fanaticism and youthful ardor mixed with the simplest pride. He did not value words highly, even the most heroic ones, and he knew about Soviet power and everything that was happening in the country, not like we do - mostly by hearsay and from books. Father Nathanael had a sober and very personal attitude towards the Soviet regime, if only because his father, priest Nikolai Pospelov, was shot for his faith in 1937. Having gone through the entire war as a soldier, Father Nathanael became a novice of the Great Viceroy Archimandrite Alypius and the spiritual son of the holy Pechersk elder and miracle worker Hieroschemamonk Simeon. Both of them, seeing in him a man of crystal honesty and an unusually lively mind, made him the treasurer and secretary of the monastery during the most difficult years of Khrushchev’s persecution of the Church and trusted him with the most secret monastic secrets.

And also to the question of Soviet power. One summer night I was obedient to the duty officer in the square in front of the Assumption Church. The stars twinkled faintly in the northern sky. Peace and quiet. The clock on the tower loudly struck three times... And suddenly I felt that someone was standing right behind me. I turned around in fear. It was Father Nathanael. He looked at the starry sky. And then he asked thoughtfully:

— Georgy, what do you think about the main principle of communism?

Pskov-Pechersky Monastery. Assumption Square. 1983 Three o'clock in the morning. Stars…

Without waiting for an answer, Father Nathanael continued thoughtfully:

— The main principle of communism is “from each according to his ability, to each according to his needs.” But “abilities”, “needs” - this, as always, will be determined by some commission? And what commission?.. Most likely - “three”! They’ll call me and say: “Well, Nathanael, what are your abilities? You can cut twenty cubic meters of wood a day! What are the needs? Bean soup!.. That’s the main principle...”

Although Father Nathanael always carefully emphasized that he was nothing more than a pedantic administrator and dry servant, even we, the novices, over time began to guess that he was simply carefully hiding his spiritual gifts. As, however, all the real monks in the monastery did. Father Treasurer was not the official monastery confessor. Only a few Pechersk old-timers from the city came to him for confession, and others came from distant places. He did not accept the rest as confessor, citing his inability to do this job.

But one day he briefly revealed the innermost part of his soul. Although he immediately hid again behind his usual severity and grumpiness. I somehow did something wrong during obedience. It seems that I carried out the task entrusted to me very carelessly. For this, the father governor himself assigned me to remove snow from all of Assumption Square for three days. I was pretty offended then. Moreover, the snow kept falling and falling, so that by the third day I was not only tired, but could barely drag my feet. I felt so sorry for myself, I was so pouting at the whole world that I even seriously began to hatch a plan for revenge. But what kind of revenge can a novice take on the governor? The scale is completely incomparable. And yet, working with my last strength with a shovel, I cherished the following picture in my heart. When the governor passes me for lunch at the fraternal refectory, he will probably sarcastically ask: “How are you doing, Georgy?” And then I will answer - cheerfully and carefree, as if these three days of hard labor never happened: “Best of all, Father Governor! By your holy prayers!” And then he will understand that I cannot be broken so easily!

- So it means: “Best of all, Father Viceroy!” By your holy prayers?!”

I froze, bent over, as if from sciatica. When I finally decided to raise my eyes to the elder, he looked at me with undisguised malice. But, noticing my horror, he said with real kindness:

- Look, Georgy, insolence has never brought anyone any good!

And, throwing his bag with a million, or maybe some crackers, he creaked through the frosty snow towards the fraternal building. And I remained standing with my mouth open, and just watched how the torn sole on the treasurer’s shoe dangled with every step.

Well, a real Plyushkin! Only a saint.

And he also strictly kept watch over the centuries-old foundations of the monastery and the ancient monastic regulations. For example, he hated it when one of the brethren went on vacation. Although medical leave was reserved for those who needed it, Father Nathanael still did not accept or tolerate it at all. He himself, of course, never went on vacation even once during his fifty-five years at the monastery. The governor, Archimandrite Gabriel, also never took advantage of vacation and looked askance at those who came to him with such requests.

Once, I remember, the viceroy nevertheless blessed one hieromonk to go on summer vacation. He blessed him, but ordered him to get money for the journey from the treasurer.

I was on duty at Assumption Square at the time and witnessed this scene. It began with the fact that the hieromonk, who was preparing to go on vacation, knocked for a long time and in vain on the door of Father Nathanael’s cell. The treasurer, immediately understanding what was going on, hid and did not open it. Then the priest decided to starve the treasurer’s father to death. He sat down on a bench at a distance and began to wait. About four hours later, Father Nathanael, looking around cautiously, went out into the square, and then a vacationer overtook him with a written blessing from the governor to give him money for the trip.

Seeing the paper, Father Nathanael froze, completely killed, and then fell to the ground with a scream and, raising his arms and legs to the sky (at the same time, tattered shoes and faded blue underpants were revealed under his cassock), shouted at the top of his voice:

- Guard! Help! They're robbing!!! Give them money! They want to go on vacation! Tired of the monastery! Tired of the Mother of God! They're robbing! Guard! Help!!!

The poor priest even sat down in horror. Foreign tourists in the square stood frozen in amazement. Grabbing his head, the hieromonk rushed headlong into his cell. And the governor, standing on the balcony of the abbot’s house, terribly pleased, looked at this whole picture.

Seeing that the danger had passed, Father Nathanael calmly stood up, shook off the dust and went about his business.

It gave us special joy when we received the obedience to help Father Nathanael conduct excursions around the monastery. As a rule, he was entrusted with leading some especially important persons. Our novitiate duties included only opening for visitors and locking behind us the ancient bolts on the heavy church doors. The rest of the time we listened to Father Nathanael.

And there was something to listen to. Father Nathanael continued the traditions of his teacher, Archimandrite Alypius, who defended the monastery and faith in God during the years of Khrushchev’s persecutions. Alipiev's gift of wise and sometimes merciless words was inherited by Father Nathanael.

In those atheistic years, Soviet workers who came to the monastery expected to see anyone: obscurantists, cunning grabbers, dark subhumans, but not those whom they actually met - peculiarly, but very interestingly educated, smart people, unusually brave and internally free people who know something that the guests didn’t even know about. Within a few minutes, it became clear to the excursionists that they had never met such people in their entire lives.

- Listen, I’m simply shocked by communication with you! I have never met such an interesting and unusual person in my entire life! But excuse me, how can you and your intelligence believe in... Well, you yourself understand what! After all, science is revealing more and more new horizons to humanity. And God is not there! Sorry, it's just not needed. This year, Halley's Comet is approaching the Earth from the depths of the Universe. And scientists, imagine, accurately calculated its entire route! And speed! And the trajectory! And for this, forgive me, no idea of God is needed!

“A comet, you say?.. Halley?..” Father Nathanael shook his beard. - So, if everything with the comet has been calculated, then the Lord God is not needed? Well, yes, I see!.. But imagine - if you put me near the railway and give me paper and a pencil. After all, in a week I will be able to tell you exactly when and in which direction the trains will run. But this doesn’t mean that there are no conductors, dispatchers, drivers?.. Ministers of Railways? Doesn't that mean it? Bosses are needed everywhere!

But such conversations did not always end so happily. One day an excursion arrived at the monastery, the composition of which was announced to us in a whisper: the children of members of the Central Committee. I don’t know if this was true, but the young people turned out to be very ill-mannered. Such golden Moscow youth of the mid-eighties, whom I knew very well. The young people were constantly laughing, pointing at the monks and asking the same idiotic questions. But there was nothing to do, and Father Nathanael led them around the monastery.

The tour started from the caves. There at the entrance there is a tiny cell with a small window. In this cell at the beginning of the 19th century, the recluse Hieroschemamonk Lazar labored. This is where he is buried. His chains and a heavy iron cross hang above the gravestone.

“In this cell, Hieroschemamonk Lazar labored in seclusion for twenty-five years,” Father Nathanael began his excursion. “I will now tell you about this amazing ascetic.

- Where did this Lazar of yours go to the toilet here? — one of the young excursionists asked loudly.

His companions simply roared with laughter. Father Nathanael waited patiently for them to calm down.

-Where did you go to the toilet? Okay, I'll show you now!

He led the puzzled tourists out of the caves and led them through the entire monastery to the utility yard, hidden from prying eyes. Here, on the outskirts, huddled an old, necessary closet. Having lined up the tourists in a semicircle in front of this establishment, as is usually done in museums, Father Nathanael solemnly pointed at him with his hand and said:

“This is where Hieroschemamonk Lazar went to the toilet!” Now stand and watch!

And, turning his back to the astonished young people, he left them alone.

When they came to their senses, the senior group found the governor and expressed his indignation at what had happened. To which the father governor replied:

— Archimandrite Nathanael reported to me what you were interested in. This is exactly what he showed you. We can't help you any more!

* * *

The harmful father Nathanael died unusually quietly and humbly. When doctors suggested putting him on a heart stimulator, he begged the viceroy father not to do this:

“Fathers, imagine,” he said, “the soul wants to go to God, and some small electrical thing forcibly pushes it back into the body!” Let my soul depart in its own time!

I had the good fortune to visit Father Nathanael shortly before his death and was amazed by the endless kindness and love that emanated from the elder. Instead of conserving the last strength remaining for life, this incredibly economical church miser in everything else gave all of himself to the person whom the Lord God sent to him for only a few minutes. As, indeed, he did all his life. Only once upon a time we did not understand this.

Apostle Bartholomew (Nathanael)

Evangelist John tells about another episode related to the Apostle Philip: “Philip finds Nathanael and says to him: “We have found the One about whom Moses in the Law and the Prophets wrote, Jesus, the son of Joseph, from Nazareth.” But Nathanael said to him: “Can anything good come from Nazareth?” Philip tells him: “Come and see.” Jesus, seeing Nathanael coming to Him, says of him: “This is truly an Israelite, in whom there is no guile.” Nathanael says to Him: “Why do You know me?” Jesus answered him: “Before Philip called you, while you were under the fig tree, I saw you.” Nathanael answered Him: “Rabbi! You are the Son of God, You are the King of Israel."

All this is very similar to the calling of the other apostles: this is how Andrew brought his brother Simon to Jesus. And judging by Nathanael's immediate reaction, he believed in Jesus and followed him. This same Nathanael, as John reports, came from the city of Cana, where Jesus once turned water into wine, he was with the apostles Peter, Thomas, and the sons of Zebedee when Jesus appeared to them on Lake Galilee after the Resurrection.

But among the apostles there was no man named Nathanael! Or was it? Apparently, yes. Next to the name of Philip in the list of apostles is Bartholomew, but this is not really a name - it is a patronymic. Bar-Tolmai means "son of Tolmai" in Aramaic. His own name could well have been Nathanael (in Hebrew it meant “God gave”), otherwise it is difficult to explain the appearance of this man in the Gospel of John and only in it.

What does this strange conversation between Jesus and Nathanael-Bartholomew mean, and what does the fig tree have to do with it? This tree was a symbol of the messianic age when, according to Old Testament prophecies, everyone will “sit under his own fig tree.” Of course, Nathanael could simply be resting in the shade of a tree on a hot afternoon, but it seems that Jesus was speaking figuratively of something very important to His interlocutor. He was expecting the coming of the Messiah, the coming of the Kingdom, and when he heard that the Messiah had finally appeared in a town called Nazareth, nearby, he became angry at such nonsense. In this outback, among the Romans and pagans - and suddenly the Messiah? But Jesus uttered words that sounded like a password to Nathanael - and he cast aside all doubts.

According to legend, Bartholomew, together with Philip, preached in the cities of Asia Minor, in the same Hierapolis. They also talk about his trips to Armenia and India. He was crucified upside down in the city of Albany or Albanopol somewhere in the Caucasus, but neither in legend nor among modern scientists is there a consensus on the exact location of this city. His relics were transferred from place to place more than once, from the 9th century. they rest in the Italian city of Benvento, and their particles today can be found in different places.

Apostle Philip

The Gospel of John reports that Philip was from Bethsaida, the same city as Andrew and Simon, and was called shortly after them, and then brought Nathanael to Jesus. John mentions Philip three more times. On the pages of the Gospel of John, Philip appears three more times. It was he who Jesus asked where to get bread for the great multitude. Together with Andrew, he brought certain Greeks to Jesus, thereby marking the beginning of preaching among non-Jews. Other evangelists do not say anything separately about Philip - apparently, John knew more about him, perhaps due to personal acquaintance.

The third of the episodes he mentioned is especially interesting. At the Last Supper, Philip asked Jesus: “Lord! show us the Father, and it is enough for us.” Other apostles wanted to establish the Kingdom of God, sit on both sides of the Teacher-King, punish evil and establish the triumph of justice and virtue. It was quite a small thing for Philip: to experience some unique mystical experience, to see the Invisible God. But Jesus answered: “I have been with you so long, and you do not know Me, Philip? He who has seen Me has seen the Father; how do you say: show us the Father? It turned out that he had already been given everything he wanted - and somehow he did not notice it.

Tradition tells that Philip preached the Gospel in Galilee, and then in Scythia and Phrygia. In the 80s, he was crucified upside down in Phrygian Hierapolis (present-day Turkey), next to the famous springs, today called Pamuk-Kale.