Book "Weeping Angel"
(Here, in the stories, is everything - Faith, biography and personal life of Alexander Dyachenko, priest (priest) of the Most High God
)
To talk about God, Faith and salvation in such a way that one may never even mention Him, but everything becomes clear to readers, listeners and viewers, and this brings joy to the soul... I once wanted to save the world, then my diocese, then my village... And now I remember the words of St. Seraphimushka: “Save yourself, and thousands around you will be saved”
!
So simple, and so unattainable... Father Alexander Dyachenko
(b. 1960) - in the photo below, Russian man, married, simple, without military service
And I answered the Lord my God that I would go to the Goal through suffering...
Priest Alexander Dyachenko, photo from the meeting-deanonymization of a network blogger
Contents of the collection of short stories “The Weeping Angel”
- Diaconal art
- A little about the main thing
- Miracles ( Miracles #1: Healings of cancer patients
) + “Sacrifice” - Ivan
- Gift
(
simulator for priests
) - New Year+Wake+Image+Eternal music
- About Serega
- "Spas Oplechny"
- Talking to a dog
- My universities
(
10 years on hardware No. 1
) - Interesting question
+ “Call” - Weeping Angel
+ “Mushroom Picking” (“The Grace of God”) - Old people and us
- Big Gena
- Slave Studies
- The best love song
(
A German ended up married to a Russian - he found Love and Death
) - Kuzmich + “Court of Conscience”
- Five minutes
- Shreds
(
full version, including the story of Tamara’s meeting with
I.V. Stalin ) - Start
- Dedication
(
to God, Ordination-1
) - Intersections
- On Christmastide (Miracles)
(
Miracles#2: The Smell of the Abyss and a Talking Cat
) - The flesh is one ( wife
- how to become a mother?
) + “The Prophecy of Abbot Nathanael”
Powerful stories outside the Weeping Angel storybook:
• $50K
+
Game
(easy money) •
Anecdote
•
Be like children
+ “Squad” •
In the circle of light
+ “Be careful - “elders”!
• Valya, Valentina, what’s wrong with you now...
• Crown (
Fr.Paul-3
) + My first teacher (
Fr.Paul-1
) + Vegetable garden all year round (
Fr.Paul-2
) •
Love your neighbor
•
Ascension
•
Time has passed !
•
The all-conquering power of Love
•
Meeting
(with Sergei Fudel) + “Makropoulos Remedy” •
Every breath...
+ “Riddle” •
Heroes and exploits
•
Gehazi’s curse
+ “Ray of light” •
Santa Claus
+ New Year’s stories + My friend Vitka + “Soul by nature Christian" •
Deja vu
•
Children's prayer
(
Ordination-3
) + "Christmas tree" •
Good deeds
•
Soulguard
(
Fr. Victor, special forces father, story No. 1
) •
For life
• Boomerang law + “Don’t part with your loved ones” •
Hollywood Star
•
Badge
•
And the eternal battle...
+ “Purification” •
From the experience of railway theology
•
Bricklayer
+ “Working on mistakes” •
Quasimodo
•
Lullaby
(
Gypsies-3
) •
Cornerstone
(Grodno-1) + “Breaking” (Grodno- 2) •
Red poppies of Issyk-Kul
•
You can’t see faces face to face...
•
Little man
•
Marginal
(
Victor Island No. 7
) •
Metamorphoses
•
A world where dreams come to life
•
Mirages
•
Men
+ “About Dad” •
In war as in war
(
Fr. Victor, special forces father, story No. 6
) •
Our dreams
+ “Forgiveness Sunday” •
Don’t bow down, little head...
•
Unlucky notes
(
Bulgaria
) +
Letter to Zoritsa
(
Serbia and Zoritsa in Russia
) •
Nostalgia
•
Islands
(
Victor Island, special forces father, story No. 2
) •
Turn off mobile phones
• The web •
First love
(I will never fly into space, and I probably won’t go to Africa either) •
Letter from childhood
+ “The Jewish Question” •
Bow
(
Grodno-3
) + “Hercules Disease” (
Grodno-4
) •
Position obliges
+ “Contact” (
Victor Island, No. 4 and 8
) •
Foresight
(
Wolf Messing
) + “Time Machine” •
Proposal
•
Overcoming
+ “Trip "(
Fr. Victor, special forces father, No. 3 and 9
) •
About Adam
•
Road checks
+ “For myself and for that guy” •
The happiest day
•
Family photos (Gift)
(
mother, father
) +
Message to Philemon
(
heroes of non-Russian blood
) • Fairy tale •
Troubles
(
10 years on the piece of iron No. 3
) •
Neighbors
(
Gypsies-1
) •
Old things
•
Old nags
+ “Tyrants” •
Passion-faces
(
Gypsies-2
) •
Three meetings
•
Difficult question
( informers-traitors) • Poor •
Lesson
(
Consecration-2
) +
Time does not wait (Bogolyubovsky Procession)
•
Feng Shui, or heart stone disease
•
Chechen syndrome
(
O. Victor, special forces father, story No. 5
) •
What to do?
(
Old Believers
) •
These eyes are opposite
+ “Image” +
“Question”
•
I did not participate in the war...
Even if you read the stories and essays of Father Alexander Dyachenko
on the Internet (online), it will be a good thing if you buy the corresponding offline editions (paper books) of Father Alexander and give them to all your friends who don’t read anything online (sequentially, first one, then another). This is a good thing!
Grandfather's peas
Pea at the very beginning
Today I married two elderly people. We decided to celebrate our 40th anniversary of marriage with a wedding. At the end, both were very emotional and could hardly hold back their tears.
The only witness of the grandparents was their little three-year-old granddaughter. The golden child stood motionless throughout the entire service.
At the end of the sacrament, you usually invite the spouses to congratulate each other with a kiss. Then you turn the newlyweds to numerous relatives and friends, who rush in with congratulations.
And now we turned away from the altar, and there was only one crumb in the temple. I turned to her:
- Come, child, and congratulate your grandparents. Today is their big holiday.
The girl comes up to her grandfather, asks him to bend over and whispers something in his ear. Grandfather takes her in his arms and, a little embarrassed, says to me:
- Father, she demands to kiss you on the cheek. Do you mind?
And the baby nuzzles her nose into my beard.
Apparently, the child’s heart demanded that justice be restored. No one kissed Father. I feel sorry for the father.
And I thought: well, this is a clear sign - it’s time to get ready for Moscow, my granddaughters are there. They are waiting for me there.
High philosophy
Yes, I agree. Children, if you and I are normal parents and fulfill our parental duty, of course, we are our debtors. To one degree or another, we can count on their reciprocal gratitude.
But not grandchildren. Now I understand especially acutely that grandchildren are not a duty, they are a reward. It is no coincidence that in the rite of the Sacrament of Marriage, as God’s blessing, it is asked to wait and see “the children of your children.”
Let their parents raise them, think about education, take care of everything in the world, we get the sweetest thing - the joy of communicating with a little person. And even if we invest our whole soul, money, remaining time and effort into them, they still won’t owe us anything. Because we ourselves receive the main thing at the very beginning: the joy from their smiles, hugs, clumsy but sincere kisses.
You live your life, always trying to achieve something, fussing, constantly preoccupied with something, dissatisfied, but you don’t understand that the most precious thing in your life is the moment when a small child’s hand tugs your beard and your small mouth smiles at you with a trusting toothless smile.
Thinking out loud
Last night we were expecting Alice and her mother to visit. They promised to come in the evening, but rushed in the morning. Before the beginning of the unction, I already knew that they had arrived. The soul rejoiced so much in anticipation of the upcoming meeting that fifty people were given unction at the same height as if there were only five of them.
Then he almost ran home. And they just went for a walk. I saw my smiling two-toothed Alice - and that’s it, I melted. I forgot about everything, I didn’t even kiss my daughter, as if I didn’t love her. How can I not love it? I live for them.
It's all strange. Where do these feelings come from? I understand with my mind that a little time will pass and the grown-up Alice will forget her grandfather, just as I no longer remember my old people.
Probably, it is some kind of intra-heart chemistry unknown to us that makes us love our grandchildren so selflessly. There is no other way to explain it.
Part-time job
My Alice came to us for the weekend with her mother. Time passes, the baby is already seven months old, it’s time to apply for a foreign passport. And today they decided to take communion and arrived for the liturgy, about half an hour before the chalice was taken out. We went into the temple, and Alice screamed, apparently she didn’t like something, or maybe it was just time for a snack. Then the mother carried the child into the vestibule, sat down on a small bench and gave Alice her breast.
Now they have invented clothes with which you can feed a child and the mother’s breasts are not visible at all.
They sit so silently. Several young people came into the vestibule, looked at my girls, as it seemed to my daughter, sympathetically, and reached into their pockets.
“I look,” my daughter continues, “they put money in a bowl in front of me and go further into the temple.” I looked around and it turned out that we sat down in the place where our gypsy usually begs.
She went to church to give the child communion, but left her workplace unattended, so my guys occupied it.
It turns out that here you can be decently dressed, not ask anyone for anything, and at the same time earn extra money by collecting alms. So my Alice, at six and a half months old, earned her first few hundred rubles, which, however, she and her mother generously left to the gypsy.
It's always like this
Today Alisa and her mother went to Moscow. Before these five days of our continuous joyful communication, I was a “visiting grandfather” for an hour or two. And during this time we became such wonderful friends. How much was crawled together, how much was sung and danced. We learned to stand up on our own.
In the morning I realized that I was leaving, and tears welled up in my eyes.
And I also understood why groups of singing veterans are so popular. After these days of continuous training, I would be quite suitable for some third-rate song and pandemonium ensemble.
Feat
Today I visited my dear Alice in Moscow. Everything was going great until the girl, seizing the moment, jumped off the sofa upside down. My poor granddaughter, how she screamed! Mom carried her in her arms, but she did not calm down and continued to cry. I hear her sobs and feel: in another minute or two, I won’t be able to stand it and out of pity for her I’ll cry myself.
Finally, the baby fell asleep and slept, spread out on her mother, sometimes shuddering and sobbing in her sleep. The daughter sat there for a whole hour without moving. I also sat next to them and suffered. Finally Alice woke up, looked at me and smiled. And I almost cried again, but only from joy.
I will say with all responsibility: what hard work it is to be a mother!
Perplexed question
Grandma and Alice went to the store. They went inside and left the scooter on the porch. They leave the store, but there is no scooter.
I had to go and buy a new one. Alice looks at the new product with surprise and is perplexed:
- Will I have two scooters now?
The grandmother, as best she can, tries to explain to the little girl that her vehicle, in which she, still sleepy, goes to kindergarten in the morning, has been stolen. But there’s a problem: the child won’t understand what “stolen” means. Why “stole” if you can just take it and ride?
Aliens?
Now I have the opportunity to watch my granddaughters. The eldest is actually still very small, she is only two years and three months old. She, together with the youngest, sucks at her mother’s breast, and is not yet able to say her name. Many word substitutes sound very funny in her mouth. For example, a banana is “nban”, legs are “gongi”, etc. Having played too hard, you may not have time to run to the potty.
But he pronounces the word “ipad” clearly and without any accent. It turns this thing on and off itself, which, by the way, I don’t know how to do. She freely chooses a game that interests her and plays it brilliantly, finds and plays cartoons for herself. It seems as if this computer is an organic continuation of it.
I don’t know what to think, maybe these children already belong to some other civilization? Are they really aliens?
Megapolis
I was in Moscow. I love this city. In it, no one cares about you, and you, too, only care about yourself. Everything moves around you, simultaneously and in all directions. A lot of people running past, hurting, pushing away and not apologizing. That’s right, in a large family, as they say, “don’t stand under the arrow.”
We leave the hypermegasupermarket, which crushed me, a provincial, with the enormity of its floors. Let's go to the car. The daughter is indignant, well, they also managed to turn the parking lot into a vegetable market. What to do? Moscow is hungry, and it eats a lot. It’s just that it’s really difficult to leave the parking lot because of the watermelons.
We stop near the car, my daughter puts string bags in the trunk, my mother constantly guards Alice, who is ready to break loose, in any direction. I stand nearby and hold a package in one hand, and with the other I hold my little eight-month-old Polinka-Plinka to me, from time to time kissing her on the top of her head.
I see a woman, probably the same age as me, she is dressed very simply, in her hands are the usual string bags.
He walks by and looks at me. Having caught up, he smiles and nods understandingly towards Polinka:
- The sweetest?
“Yeah,” was all I could find to answer.
Today I returned home and thought: during these days a lot of people flashed before me, but I didn’t remember a single face, not a single one at all, not a single car, maybe two or three buildings, no more. Except for this woman who smiled at me. Her face, her eyes, her smile and her words hit the nail on the head.
Comprehension of truth
My two beauties are decorating the Christmas tree for the first time in their lives. Alice, as the eldest, she is two and a half years old, hangs balls prepared by her mother on the Christmas tree. The youngest Polina, she is exactly one year old, while her older sister is hanging up a new balloon, carefully removes the previous one.
He takes it off and gives it to Alice. Alice, without any signs of irritation, takes the removed ball from the youngest and again hooks it onto the tree, and Polinka is already puffing, removing the previous one. And so on until exhaustion.
And you know, I agree with them. Experience confirms the eternal truth: in our life the result is nothing, the main thing is the process itself.
To Newton's law
Yesterday afternoon I went to the window and saw a boy the same age as my Polinka playing in the yard. Two months ago he had heart surgery. We all in the parish prayed that the operation would go well. And then another whole month after, when the temperature did not want to return to normal due to a complication that had arisen. The baby confidently ran to the sandbox, his mother could barely keep up with him.
I rejoiced and asked:
“God bless this child,” and made the sign of the cross through the glass.
Suddenly I heard my Skype ringing. Usually my travelers - they are currently relaxing at sea - get in touch very late in the evening. I run, turn it on and see Polinka. She sees me, smiles and shouts:
- Grandfather!
Then mother appears on the screen:
- Sorry for disturbing you at an inopportune time. This is all Polinka. She played calmly and suddenly demanded: “Grandma, let’s call grandpa!”
I thought: it turns out interesting, if you want your children to remember you, don’t forget to bless strangers too.
Through the mouth of a baby...
Four of my girls came to me from the capital at once - grandmother, daughter and both granddaughters. On the one hand, this is wonderful, but on the other hand, I have absolutely no personal life, I’m constantly washing someone, walking with someone, shaking someone in my arms.
In Moscow, where my beauties live, the people are very well-mannered and intelligent. Even when my granddaughters’ dad gave Alice a ride on her butt in new pants along a rusty hill, those around her pretended that they didn’t notice anything. It’s a pity, of course, that such wonderful pants were ruined, but what can you do, you have to wear them, there are no others anyway. So my eldest came to visit me with a huge red spot on the back of her pants. But now, as they say, we can handle any rusty hill.
In our village the people are much simpler. Yesterday a little girl, about six years old, came up to her mother, pointed at Alice, or rather, at a rusty stain, and reproachfully declared:
- And your butt is dirty.
Mother begins to make excuses guiltily:
- What to do? Didn't notice.
“Then wash your pants,” the child does not calm down.
In the evening, though without much hope, my mother took it and washed it. And today they delight us with their pristine color.
And what they say is true: through the mouth of a child the truth speaks.
Changelings
My daughter called today and told me how she went to the service to give communion to both of our granddaughters.
- Did you go alone?
- Yes, but what’s wrong with that? She put the children in the car and into the church for communion.
- It's clear. How was it possible to manage both at the same time in the temple?
- Very simple. She gave Holy Communion to Polinka first and laid her on the floor. And then the Fox.
– Put it on the floor?! Was there anyone else in the temple besides you?
– Of course, a lot of communicants gathered.
– And no one volunteered to hold Polinka?
- No.
– What did they do?
- Like what? Dad, as if you don’t know?! They stood with their arms crossed over their chests and waited for their turn. They probably prayed.
The daughter said this completely calmly, without any irritation or visible resentment towards others. Having become a Muscovite, she got used to relying only on her own strength. Costs of a big city? Does love leave people? If only she didn't leave her.
Granddaughters left
We saw off our relatives. They hugged, waved and made the sign of the cross as the car drove away.
We go up to our place, mother goes ahead and laments:
- Well, now no one will jump and jump.
- Yes, and he won’t yell in your ear either.
“Now I have no one to hug and kiss,” mother’s lament continues.
“Mother,” I try to distract her from sad thoughts, “what about me?” I stayed.
Mother turns, looks at me carefully, trying to catch the catch, and, wearily waving her hand, now silently, continues to climb up the stairs.
Own opinion
Mother and our youngest granddaughter Polinka, she is one year and a month old, are looking at the photographs that hang on the walls in the corridor. They used to do the same thing, but only with the eldest Alice, now she is two and a half. Lisa recognizes everyone, and stubbornly calls the dad from the wedding photo “uncle.”
Grandmother has already repeated to her a hundred times:
- Lisa, this is not “uncle”, this is your dad. But she continues to persist and insists on her option.
It's time to study photographs of our Polinka. Grandma from the Fields, Fox is playing in the nursery.
– Who is this? That's right, this is our Polina. So, this is our Alice.
We got to the parents' wedding photo.
Grandmother:
– And this is our mother, you see how beautiful she is. And next to her is your dad.
At the same moment, a calm but unshakable voice is heard from the nursery, as if by the way:
- It's uncle!
About how everything secret becomes clear
I noticed a new photo of our youngest granddaughter on my mother’s cell phone. I haven't seen them for a long time. I planned to go and see him during cheese week, but it didn’t work out. And I wanted to kiss her so much, well, I didn’t have any strength! Mother turned away, and I kissed her. And the phone is touch-sensitive, some kind of bluetooth immediately popped up. It didn't work out to remove the window, so I got mine.
So in our time it is better not to show feelings. And you should keep your eyes open with these gadgets.
A little about the simple stories of the Russian priest Alexander Dyachenko
Father Alexander is a simple Russian priest with the usual biography of a simple Russian man: - born, studied, served, married, worked (working on the "iron" for 10 years),... remained a man.
Father Alexander came to the Christian faith as an adult. He was very “hooked” by Christ. And somehow little by little ( siga-siga - as the Greeks say, because they love such a thorough approach
), unnoticed, unexpectedly, he turned out to be a Priest, a Servant of the Lord at His Throne.
Just as unexpectedly, he suddenly became a “spontaneous” writer. I just saw so many significant, providential and wonderful things around me that I began to write down the life observations of a simple Russian person in the “akyn” style. And being a wonderful storyteller and a real Russian person with a mysteriously deep and wide Russian soul, which also knew the Light of Christ in His Church, he began to reveal in his stories a Russian and Christian view of our beautiful life in this world, as a place of Love , labor, sorrows and victories, in order to benefit all people from their humble unworthiness.
Here is the abstract from the book “The Weeping Angel”
Father Alexander Dyachenko about the same thing:
Vivid, modern and unusually deep stories by Father Alexander fascinate readers from the first lines. What is the author's secret? In truth. In the truth of life. He clearly sees what we have learned not to notice - what causes us inconvenience and troubles our conscience. But here, in the shadow of our attention, there is not only pain and suffering. It is here that there is unspeakable joy that leads us to the Light.
By the bookshelf. Priest Alexander Dyachenko. Cup of coffee. Stories about the parish and about yourself
Audio |
Human memory as a connecting thread between the past and the present. Often, some insignificant things return us to the distant or near past: for example, the usual cry of a raven on a cold winter morning takes a person to childhood, reminding how once, many, many years ago, on the same cold morning, he was taken in a sleigh through the streets of a sleeping villages. Or the light that breaks through the closed kitchen door early in the morning and the smell of pies brings the now adult grandson back to his grandmother’s house. For the author of the book that we bring to your attention today, for a long time the connecting thread between time and space was a cup of hot coffee drunk at a gas station. And for the rest of his life, coffee will remind him of home, of his parents who have already passed into another world. Archpriest Alexander Dyachenko talks about this and much more on the pages of the book, which is called “A Cup of Coffee.”
***
The author of the book is Archpriest Alexander Dyachenko, rector of the church in honor of the Tikhvin Icon of the Mother of God in the village. Ivanov, Vladimir region. He was born in Moscow in 1960, into a military family, but considers Belarus, the city of Grodno, where he spent his childhood and youth, to be his homeland. Father Alexander graduated from the Orthodox St. Tikhon Institute and is a bachelor of theology. Actively engaged in missionary and educational work. Published in the all-Russian weekly magazine “My Family”. Author of the books “The Weeping Angel”, “In the Circle of Light” and “Scholia”, published by Nikea Publishing House.
In September of this year, also from the Nikeya publishing house, another collection of stories by Father Alexander was published under the general title “A Cup of Coffee.” On its pages you will find kind, touching, instructive stories from the life of the priest himself and his parishioners. The author, as a true observer, notices the bright and interesting aspects of provincial life, aptly and richly describes the characters of his characters. With genuine joy, he talks about their successes and victories, with sincere empathy he conveys human pain, and with humor he describes circumstances that are close and familiar to each of us.
All the author’s stories in the book are arranged according to similar themes into different groups. The first part is called "Pedigree". The story with the same name tells how one young employee of the State Security Committee, on instructions from the leadership, ended up at the 1988 Council of the Russian Orthodox Church. It was at that cathedral that a unique event for those times took place - the glorification of nine new saints. “Unique,” the author notes, “because the last glorification at that time took place in 1916. The Soviet government, which vowed to build communism in the country by the 1980s and show the people the “last priest,” could not allow any glorification. After all, if new saints are glorified, it means the Church is alive.”
But in the time of perestroika, when a big round date was celebrated in our Fatherland - the Millennium of the Baptism of Rus', after a long break, the great ascetics of the faith were glorified, including St. Theophan the Recluse. And during the meeting of the Council, his image stood opposite a state security officer, and all this time the saint seemed to be looking at him. “Although the saint’s gaze was directed slightly to the side,” this man later recalled, “it still seemed to me that the monk from the icon was looking straight into my eyes. And no matter how I turned away from him, our eyes met again and again. I knew that among my ancestors there were also priests and monks. I didn’t believe in God then; this topic never interested me. Moreover, such a relationship only compromised a state security officer, and therefore there were no conversations on this topic in our family.” But in the evening, calling home, he learned from his mother that he was the great-grandnephew of Saint Theophan.
As Father Alexander notes, after this task the young man suddenly became a Christian overnight. This story is real, as are all the others in this collection. It was told to the author by one of that young man’s colleagues. The second part of the book is called “Have mercy on the horses”! Here are collected small notes and reflections on the topic of patriotism and about a person at war, about the Butovo training ground, where Father Alexander went on a pilgrimage on the eve of Victory Day, and about other places that preserve the memory of the terrible atrocities of the 20th century. The author also shares about the feelings experienced by a person marching in the column of the Immortal Regiment on May 9. One of them is a feeling of great gratitude to our fathers and grandfathers for the Victory!
The third group of stories is called “Lilies of the Valley.” It mostly contains full-fledged stories on a variety of topics that capture the attention of the priest, each time forcing him to reflect and share his thoughts with the readers. So, for example, a story about two friends. One of them was brought to the church by Father Alexander by misfortune, the death of her husband. The Lord, as the priest says, helped him find words that the unfortunate woman could grab onto. At that moment, for the first time she truly thought about the meaning of life and consciously crossed the threshold of the temple. God became the center of existence, its focus. She learned to pray and realized that she was not alone, that in this life there is Someone on whom you can always rely. Having strengthened her faith herself, years later she was able to help her closest friend find faith.
Here are the author’s memories of how in the 90s he worked as a “train compiler, or more simply, a wagon uncoupler,” about the people with whom he had the opportunity to work and communicate at that time. He talks about the sorrows and joys of his priestly life, about chance encounters on trips, which also bring certain lessons to his life and work. Thus, the story of the teacher of Russian language and literature, with whom Father Alexander participated in the diocesan religious procession, teaches that it is very good to respect the heritage of our classics, but in childhood it is important to learn not only poetry or prose passages, but also prayers. After all, in moments of danger, the words of prayer come to mind first, and not Pushkin’s poems, for example - “Frost and sun, a wonderful day...”
In the next part of the book, the author moves on to the topic of children, without whom it is simply impossible to imagine our lives. It is dedicated to the intersections of an adult, father and grandfather with his little parishioners and is called “Parallel Worlds.” And Father Alexander called the final fifth part “The City of My Childhood.” The author's own thoughts on a variety of topics are mainly collected here. Which? You can find out about this by reading the collection itself.
***
“I consider the very fact of my writing,” says Archpriest Alexander Dyachenko, “as a result of the blessing given to me at one time by His Eminence Bishop Eulogius to deal with issues of external missionary work. Any word sent by a priest to the outside world is his sermon to this world, a word about faith and about Christ. Even if the name of Christ is never spoken. The books of Father Alexander also serve this purpose, including “A Cup of Coffee.” According to the author, it is like a figurative call to the reader - pick up my book, sit down comfortably, and let's talk. Like old friends, we will drink coffee and enjoy mutual communication.
A little biography of Priest Alexander Dyachenko
“The advantage of a simple worker is a free head!” At the meeting with readers, Father Alexander Dyachenko told a little about himself, about his path to faith.
— The dream of becoming a naval sailor did not come true - Father Alexander graduated from the Agricultural Institute in Belarus. He worked as a train preparer for almost 10 years on the railway and has the highest qualification category. “The main advantage of a simple worker is a free head ,” Father Alexander Dyachenko shared his experience.
At that time, he was already a believer, and after the “railway stage” of his life he entered the St. Tikhon’s Theological Institute in Moscow, after which he was ordained a priest. Today, Father Alexander Dyachenko already has 11 years of priesthood behind him, a lot of experience in communicating with people, and many stories.
