№9 (172) May, 2003


A DAY OF ETERNITY
Trip to the Novo-Diveevo Convent


Inok Vsevolod (Filipiev)

On Friday, September 20, 2002, four pilgrims set out from the Holy Trinity Monastery, in Jordanville, to the Novo-Diveevo Convent, situated outside of New York.
They were: the well-known "blessed fool" Levushka, or Leo Ivanovich Pavlinets, from Jordanville; a pilgrim from Moscow, one of the brethren of Jordanville, (who wished to remain nameless and took the photographs which you see here), and I.
The cascading American highway, the flashing by of advertisements and rural farming landscapes, and the church singing and folk songs of Levushka in the car made the road to the Novo-Diveevo convent interesting.


Photo: Levushka and the monk at a gas station.

This is how the brother who wished to remain nameless presented his opinions: "on Friday we went to Novo-Diveevo with Fr. Vsevolod to take the archive of Archimandrite Ambrosius (Pogodin). We also took Levushka with us. Last time he was taken somewhere was to his mother's grave fifteen years ago. The road there is long - four hours one way. Levushka was bathed, given a haircut, shaved a "professor's beard", and we were off.
On the road he sang almost nonstop, anything that came into his head and with great gusto, sometimes with great strain, so much so that I did not know how he didn't lose his voice. Sometimes he pronounced words of wisdom.
"What is most important in life?" - is his favorite question.
"I don't know" - is my favorite reply.
"To love God, number one, and to love your neighbor, that's two!"


Photo: Levushka, the pilgrim from Moscow and the monk at father Ambrosius' (pictured with the cat).

We drove relatively fast, and he joyfully waved his hands to everyone we passed by and commenting: "Two young ladies, very nice", "What a fat lady, we need to pray for her", "Black man's driving, his face is all black", "One girl", we drove further: "Anooother girl", we pass a third: "Thiird girl…and there is the grave", "Driving in the day with headlights on, what idiocy!" All inscriptions and roadsigns he transliterated to Russian. The variations were most unexpected. We pass a Coca-Cola tractor-trailer, and Levushka reads: "sokE". Then, when we stopped at a service station, his child-like triumph had no limit - he liked the bathroom especially: "How beautiful it is here, how beautiful!" - as he took in the tiled wall with an excited gaze. We were leaving McDonald's, when suddenly he started acting out his favorite scene, imitating Saint Seraphim, hunched over, with a cane, went along and waved to all the waiters and waitresses, and they responded with no less enthusiasm. What an actor! In general, people somehow immediately sense, that this is someone unique and perceive him in a different category of human relations. "This child-like freedom opens up to him even the most rational hearts", - as the Jordanville brother ends his account.


Photo: Levushka at the grave of the nun Nathalie.

Upon arrival at the monastery, first things first, we were invited into the monastery cafeteria and treated after our journey. A monastery kitchen! - Who doesn't know how tasty this is?! Why? - Because everything is made holy with prayer and blessing. Afterwards we set to accomplishing our pilgrim program. It consisted of four main points:
-Pay a visit to the venerable theologian, the Archimandrite Ambrosius (Pogodin), living in retirement in Novo-Diveevo (he had already invited us to come for his archive long ago).
-Pray at the grave of the nun Nathalie, Levushka's mother
-Socialize with the monastery nun Irina.
-Venerate local icons and relics.


Photo: at the nun Irina's

Father Ambrosius took great comfort in our arrival. We spent a long time looking through his family photographs and also unpublished translations of the holy fathers. It need be said, that the little father will go into, or already has gone into, Russian patrological scholarship, like a person who has made the greatest amount of patristical translations from Greek and Latin into Russian in twenty centuries. One can read his translations for practically every issue of the annual journal "The Orthodox Way" (Jordanville). Besides that, father Ambrosius is the author of the famous book "St. Mark of Ephesus and the Union of Florence". When the pilgrim from Moscow told the little father that his books and translations thereof can be found in every Orthodox home in Russia and are published by the hundreds of thousands, he sighed a heavy sigh and said: "And I waste away here". Everyone treats the little father well here in Novo Diveevo, but old age, sorrows and illnesses; - these are the crosses which father Ambrosius bears now. And so we ask all Orthodox to pray for our dear theologian-Archimandrite.


Photo: A view of the main temple in Novo Diveevo.

While I continued to socialize with the little father, the aforementioned pilgrims went to the grave of Levushka's mother and there served a priestless Memorial Service for the Dead.
Then we met up in the sisters' dorm at the mother-nun's place. Mother Irina - here is a genuinely wise nun-sage. She has been a nun since her youth, entered into monasticism back in Russian China. And this is exactly that classic case in Orthodoxy, wherein no words are required from a person. Everything is just clear. It is enough to simply stand near to her, and one's soul becomes warm and light. Her likeness radiates peace and love. Pray to God for us, dear mother.
By the way, I just noticed this detail: everyone with whom we associated that day - the archimandrite Ambrosius, the nun Irina, Levushka, - knew well Saint John (Maximovich), or were even close to him.


Photo: A view of Novo Diveevo's main temple, from the inside.

And, finally, we venerate the holy things of Novo-Diveevo: a life-like portrait of Saint Seraphim of Sorov, a cross miraculously taken out of the Ipat'ev house, the wonder-working icon of the Mother of God by Archbishop Andrew (Rumarenko), the founder of the monastery, and others.
Quieted, we left the Novo-Diveevo convent - a peaceful, green and blessed isle at the foothills of the metallic, concrete and glassy New York mountains. This was a day which one would want to save for eternity.

  



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