The priest Alexander Dyachenkoprooding (Collection). Priest Alexander Dyachenko

(Here in the stories, all - Faith, biography and personal life of Alexander Dyachenko,
Ierhea (priest) of the god of the Most High )

Tell about God, faith and save so that it can never mention him and not mention,
And readers, listeners and audiences everything becomes clear, and on the soul of this joy ...
I once wanted to save the world, then my diocese, then my settlement ...
And now I remember the words of Rev. Serafizyshushki:
"Save himself, and thousands will be saved around you"!
So simple, and so unattainable ...

Father Alexander Dyachenko (1960) - in the photo below,
Russian man, married, simple, without a / p

And I answered the Lord God to my, that I will go to the goal by suffering ...

Priest Alexander Dyachenko,
Photo from the meeting deanonymization of a network blogger

The content of the collection of stories "Crying angel". Read online!

1. Wonders ( Wonders # 1: Healing oncobole) (with the addition of the story "Sacrifice")
2. Present (simulator for Popov)
3. New Year ( with the addition of stories: Pominik , Form and eternal music)
4. My universities (10 years on hardware №1)
5. (with the addition of the story)
6. Crying angel (with the addition of the story)
7. Best Love Song (The German was married to Russian - found love and death)
8. Kuzmich ( with the addition of the story)
9. Loskutka (full version, with the inclusion of the history of the meeting of Tamara with I.V.Stalin )
10. Dedication (God, Charotonia-1)
11. Crossing (with the addition of the story)
12. Wonders (Wonders # 2: The smell of the abyss and talking cat)
13. Flesh one ( Wife Priest - how to become a matkee? With addition:)

Outside the collection of stories "Crying Angel": 50 thousand dollars
Joke
Be as children (with the addition of the story)
In a circle of light (with the addition of the story)
Valya, Valentina, what's with you now ...
Crown (o.Pavel-3.)
love thy neighbour
Climbing
Time does not wait (Bogolyubovsky Procession + Grodno-4) (from DosSczaza "I love Grodno" - Grodno-6)
Time went!
The all-standing power of love
A meeting (with Sergey Foolem) ( with the addition of the story "Macrofulosity")
Any breath ... (with the addition of the story)
Heroes and feats
Gesiyevo Curse (with the addition of the story)
Santa Claus (with the addition of a micro story)
Deja
Children's prayer (Charotonia-3, with the addition of a story)
Good deeds
Soulman (o.Viktor, Special Forz Bath, History № 1)
For a life
Boomeranga law ( with the addition of the story)
Star Hollywood
Icon
And eternal fight ... (with the addition of the story)
(10 years on hardware №2)
From the experience of railway sorry
Mason (with the addition of the story)
Quasimodo
Princes ( with the addition of the story)
Lullaby (Tsygan-3.)
Foundation stone (Grodno-1) ( with the addition of a story - Grodno-2)
Red Maki Issyk-Kul
Face to face not see ...
Small man

Metamorphosis
The world where dreams come to life
Mirage
Bear and Marishka
My first teacher (o.PAVEL-1.)
My buddy Vitka
Men (with the addition of the story)
In war as in war (o.Viktor, Special Forz Bath, History № 6)
Our dreams (with the addition of the story)
Do not clone you, head ...
Scampish notes (Bulgaria)
New Year's story
Nostalgia
About two meetings with the father Alexander "in Real"
(o.Pavel-2)
(o.Viktor, Special Forz Bath, History № 2)
Disconnect mobile phones
Fathers and Sons ( with the addition of the story "Grandfather")
Web
The first love
Letter Zorice.
Letter from childhood (with the addition of the story "Jewish question")
Present (about happiness like a gift)
Bow (Grodno-3.) (with the addition of the story "Herkullasova Disease" - Grodno-5)
The position obliges (with the addition of a story - O.Viktor, number 4 and 8)
Message to Filimon
(Wolf Messing)
Sentence
Overcoming (with the addition of a story - O.Viktor, Spetsnaz-Bathi, № 3 and 7)
About Adam
Road checks (with the addition of the story)
Lumen ( Churlenis)
Radonitsa
The most happy day
Story
(10 years on hardware №3)
Neighbors (Tsygan-1.)
Old things (with the addition of a story)
Old Klyachi (with the addition of stories and)
Passion-Mordasti (Tsygan-2.)
Three meetings
Difficult question
Decorative
Lesson (Charotonia-2.)
Feng Shui, or heart disease
Chechen syndrome (o.Viktor, Spetsnaz-Bath, History № 5)
What to do? (Starrobustry)
These eyes are opposite (with the addition of stories and)
I did not participate in the war ...
My tongue ... my friend? ...

Even if you read stories and essays father Alexandra Dyachenko On the Internet (online), it will be good, if you buy and appropriate offline editions (paper books) of Alexander's father and give to read all your friends who do not read anything on the network (consistently, first one, then another). Good thing this is!

A little about ordinary stories Russian Batyushka Alexander Dyachenko

Father Alexander is a simple Russian father with the usual biography of a common Russian person:
- Born, studied, served, married, worked (workers on "piece of iron" 10 years), .. remained man.

For the Christian faith, O. Alksandr came by an adult man. Very "hooked him" Christ. And somehow little, in Malu ( siga-Siga - how the Greeks speak, for such a solid approach loves), imperceptibly for myself, unexpectedly - turned out to be a priest, the minister of the Lord at his throne.

So, suddenly became suddenly a "spontaneous" writer. I just saw so much around a significant, commercial and miraculous, which began to record the vital observations of a simple Russian person in the style of "Akyn". And being a wonderful storyteller and a real Russian man with a mysterious-deep-wide Russian soul, who knew the light of Christ in his church, - began to disclose Russian and Christian look at the beautiful life in the world as a place of love in his stories , Labor, sorrow and victories, in order to bring the benefit of all people from their humble unnecessary.

Here is an abstract from the book "Crying angel" Father Alexandra Dyachenko about the same:

Bright, modern and unusually deep stories of the father Alexander fascinate readers from the first lines. What is the secret of the author? Truth. In truth of life. He clearly sees what we learned not to notice - what does the inconvenience deliver us and the Conscience. But here, in the shade of our attention, not only pain and suffering. It is here - and the unspecified joy leading us to the light.

Little biography Alexander Dyachenko's priest

"The advantage of a simple worker is a free head!"

At a meeting with readers batyushka Alexander Dyachenko told a little about himself, about your way to faith.
- The dream of becoming a military sailor was not realized - Father Alexander graduated from the Agricultural Institute in Belarus. For almost 10 years, trains are on the railway on the railway, has the highest qualifying discharge. "The main advantage of a simple worker is a free head", "Alexander Dyachenko shared his experienced his experience. At that time, he was already a believer, and after the "railway stage" his life entered the Holy Tikhonovsky Theological Institute in Moscow, at the end of which was ordained to priests. Today, by the shoulders of the father Alexander Dyachenko, 11 years of priesthood, a lot of experience in communicating with people, many stories.

"True Life as it is"

Conversation with priest Alexander Dyachenko, blogger and writer

"Live Journal", LJ alex_the_priest., Father Alexandra Dyachenko, who serves in one of the temples of the "far" near Moscow, is not similar to ordinary network blogs. The readers in the notes of the father attracts and conquers what it certainly should not be found on the Internet - the truth of life as it is, and not as it appears in the virtual space or political debate.

Alexander's father became a priest only at 40 years old, in childhood he dreamed of being a military sailor, graduated from the Agricultural Institute in Belarus. For more than ten years he worked on the railway simple worker. Then he went to study at the Orthodox Holy Tikhonian Humanitarian University, 11 years ago was ordained.

The work of Father Alexandra is a lot of life sketches - popular on the Internet and also published in the weekly "My Family". In 2010, the publishers "Nikei" chose 24 essays from LJ father and released a collection of "Walking Angel". The second book is preparing - this time the writer himself will choose the stories that will enter it. About his work and plans for the future Father Alexander, told the portal "Orthodox.Ru"

- Judging by your stories in the "Live Journal", your path to the priesthood was long and difficult. What was the path to writing? Why did you decide to immediately publish everything on the Internet?

By chance. I, confess, a person is not at all "technical." But my children somehow decided that I was too behind my life, and showed me that there is a "live magazine" on the Internet, where you can write some notes.

But still nothing accidental in life happens. So I have recently turned 50 years old and for 10 years, as I became a priest. And I had a need to sum up some result, to comprehend somehow my life. Everyone comes such a turning point in life, someone has - in 40 years old, I have at 50, when it is time to define what you imagine. And that's all this turned out gradually into writing: some memories came, first I wrote small notes, and then I began to leave whole stories. And when the same youth taught me to take the text in LiveJournal "Under Cat," here I could not limit my thought ...

I recently calculated that over the past two years I wrote about 130 stories, that is, it turns out that all this time I wrote even more often than once a week. That was surprised me - I myself did not expect this; Something apparently moved by me, and if I, despite the usual lack of time for the priest, still managed to write something, "he also needed it ... Now I plan to take a break before Easter - and then we'll see. I, honestly, never know if I will write the next story or not. If I have no need, you need to tell some story - I'll abandon all this right away.

- All your stories are written by first person. Are they autobiographical?

Priest Alexander Dyachenko: Events that are described are all real. But as for the form of presentation, I was somehow closer to write from the first person, I can't and I probably could not. After all, I am not a writer, but a rural priest.

Some plots are really biographical, but because it did not all happen specifically with me, I am writing under a pseudonym, but on behalf of the priest. For me, every plot is very important, even if I did not personally have happened to me - we also learn from our parishioners, and all my life ...

And at the end of the stories, you always specifically write the conclusion (the moral of the writings), such that to put everything in place. It is still important to show: here look at the red light you can not go, but on green - you can. My stories are the preaching first ...

- Why did you choose such a direct form of entertaining everyday stories for preaching?

Priest Alexander Dyachenko: To the one who reads the Internet or the book discovered, after all, read it to the end. To some simple situation, which he used to not notice in ordinary life, he would excited him, awakened a little. And maybe the next time, facing himself with such events, he will look towards the temple ...

Many readers later admitted me that they became different to perceive the priests and the church. After all, a priest often for people - as a monument. It is impossible to contact him, it is scary to approach it. And if they see in my story of a living preacher, who also feels, is experiencing, who tells them about the intimate, then it can be easier to come to the realization of the need of a confessor in their lives ...

I do not see any particular group of people from the flock ... But I have a lot of hope for young, so that it is also clear.

Young perceive the world is different than the people of my generation. They have other habits, another language. Of course, we will not copy their behavior or expressions for sermons in the temple. But for the sermons in the world, I believe, you can talk a little and in their tongue!

- Did you see the fruits of your missionary message?

Priest Alexander Dyachenko: I did not suspect, honestly, there will be so many readers. But now there are modern means of communication, I write a commentary on the blog, more often, and letters in the newspaper "My Family" comes, and letters, where my stories are printed. It would seem that the newspaper, as they say, "for housewives", they read ordinary people engaged in life, children, home problems - and here it was especially happy to get feedback from them that the stories were forced to think about what the church is and what she is.

- However, on the Internet, whatever you wrote, you can get comments are not too benevolent ...
o. Alksandr: I still have a response. Otherwise, I would not be interested to write ...
- And from your permanent parishioners in the temple I had to hear gratitude for the writer's work?
o. Alksandr: They, I hope, do not know that I also write stories - after all, there are largely heard life-heard stories and make me write something again!

- And if entertaining stories from life experience end, are exhausted?

Priest Alexander Dyachenko: Some quite ordinary situations are very penetrating - and then I write them down. I am not writing, my main task is a priest. While it is in line with my activity as a priest - I am writing. Will I write another story tomorrow - I do not know.

It's like an honest conversation with the interlocutor. It's often on the parish after liturgia the community is going, and for the meal tells something every one in turn, shares problems, or impressions, or joy - such a preaching after the sermon is obtained.

- Do you confess your yourself before the reader? Does it strengthen you spiritually writing work?

Priest Alexander Dyachenko: Yes, it turns out that you open yourself. If you write, closing, no one will believe you. Each story carries the presence of a person, on behalf of which is a story. If ridiculous, then the author himself laughs, if sad is crying.

For me, my recordings are an analysis of yourself, the ability to sum up some result and tell yourself: here you are right, and here it was not right. Somewhere it is the opportunity to ask for forgiveness from those who offended, and in reality, it is impossible to ask for forgiveness. Maybe the reader will see how bitterly happens later, and will not repeat some of the oversight, what we do every day, or at least think. Let not immediately, let them remember after years - and will go to church. Although in life there is different, because how many people are going to, and never come to the temple. And they are also addressed by my stories.

Priest Alexander Dyachenko: Holy Bible. If we do not read it daily - we will end as Christians immediately. If we live our own mind and will not eat, like bread, sacred scripture, then all our books are the rest lose meaning!

If it is difficult to read - let him not be lazy to the temple to come to the occupation-conversations about the sacred Scripture, which every parish, I hope, spends ... if the reverend Seraphim Sarovsky Every day I read Gospel, though I knew, what should we talk?

That's all that we, priests, write, - All this should be such a person to push him to start reading the Holy Scripture. This is the main task of all bowls-artistic literature and journalism.

Priest Alexander Dyachenko: Well, first, at the temple we collect our parish library, in which everyone who comes can get something necessary, and something modern, which is not only useful, but it is interesting to read. So for advice, and about literature, including, it is not necessary to be shy to turn to the priest.

At all, it is not necessary to be afraid to have a confessor: it is necessary to choose some particular person, let him often be busy and sometimes will "disappear" from you, but better if you walk to the same priest - and gradually install personal Contact with him.

father Konstantin Parhomenko,

father Alexandra Avdugina,

Priest Alexander Dyachenko: It is difficult to choose something. In general, with age, I began to read the fiction less, you begin to appreciate the reading of spiritual books. But recently, for example, opened again Remarika "Love your neighbor" - And I saw that this is the same gospel, only everydays stated ...

With the priest Alexander Dyachenko
Consciously Antonina Maga - February 23, 2011 - Pravoslavie.ru/guest/44912.htm

The first book, a collection of stories, Alexander Dyachenko's priest "Crying angel" Released in the publishing house Nikeya, Moscow, 2011, 256s., m / o, pocket format.
Batyushka Alexander Dyachenko has a hospitable LJ blog - alex-the-priest.livejournal.com on the Internet.

In the "Priestly Prose" series, which has recently been published in Nikeya's publishing house, the best artworks of the authors are printed, whose work is inextricably linked with Orthodox maidos. These are novels, stories and stories about the fate of believers, about the trials of faith, hopes and love. Stories are funny and sad, touching and piercing - based on real events or inspired meetings with amazing people. They reveal the world in front of the reader, seen by the eyes of the priest, without aspirations and capital truths. "My dear reader! In your hands the book, the genre of which I find it difficult to determine. The story is, a novel or story - I do not know. Rather, this is our conversation with you. I still do not know you yet, and you do not know me, but it is fixable. When you read this book and turn the last page, we will be friends. And otherwise why write so much and take your time? " With such words, the priest Alexander Dyachenko appeals to readers - the author of the book with the unusual name "Scholia". The author of the book "Scholia" The priest Alexander Dyachenko is the abbot of the temple in honor of the Tikhvin Icon of God Mate-Ri in with. Ivanovo Vladimir region. Born in 1960 in Moscow, in the family of the military, but his homeland believes Belorussia, the city of Grodno, in which childhood and youth passed. He graduated from the Orthodox Holy Tikhon Institute. Bachelor of theology. Actively engaged in missionary and educational work. Published in the All-Russian Weekly "My Family". The author of several books, among them "Crying Angel" and "in the circle of light", published by the publishing house "Nikeya". All the books of this father, according to the leading editor of Nikeya's publishing house Natalia Vinogradova, are full of "love for their parishioners. About their parishioners, about their friends, about their fellow villagers, mainly, and writes. " Here is the book "Scholia" - this is an unusual story: in it self-telny and whole, in fact, the stories, the stories of the Batyush-ki about their parishioners, friends, about themselves and their near-kih are a kind of understanding, the detailed comment to another The line of the narration is the Diary of Hope Ivanovna, a simple believer woman with a very difficult fate. The lines are woven, like threads, in a single whole, detecting amazing connections that exist between people would seem to be an absolutely lucid strangers - non-related kindred bonds, even living at different times, but "in memory eternal will be the righteous." "I find it difficult," Alexander Father writes, "to accurately determine the genre of this book, let him be a story written in the footsteps of real events. One of the centralists in the story is the identity of Loginova Andrei Kuzmich, a resident of the village of Old Rashka of the Syzransky District of the Samara Region. " A simple little peasant, he became one of those who today we call the devotee, and the piety of the XX century. If you go to the goal and dig on the Internet, you can find some information about Andrei Kuzmich, however, they are not very much of them, and for them it is impossible to judge how he failed, as he prayed, why he took upon himself a feat of an extra-niche . It is completely incomprehensible how terrible persecution in our country went around his side on the Nar Staean faith. The diaries of the Ivanov-We are responsible for these questions (in the text of the story of Hope of Ivanov-We), the granddaughters of the elder Andrei Kuzmich. Ivanovna faith, "says Patushka," I know for many years, the last ten of them will help me in the altar. Once I heard about her grandfather and impressed by the heard wrote a small story, who called "what the sun will say?" As the priest notes, "reading the story of this family, dissolve in the events of the time. They are written in the late 1990s with the sole purpose - to save memory. Transfer grandchildren to what they never know from other sources. Having survived the loss of the closest and most expensive people, Vera Ivanovna itself was on the verge of life and death. Her condition was such that no one did on a prosperous outcome. In those days, she began writing their memories of what you can't forget. Maybe thanks to the day, she survived. In many ways, these are very personal notes, because in the book I allowed myself to include only the part of them, which can be read by any third-party person. First of all, these are memories of childhood spent in the village, the stories about the grandfather and grandmother, about Mom and the Father, as well as about the numerous Boglyubs, who flocked to the memorable senior. They entered the book and instructions of the grandfather Andrei Kuzmich, addressed, first of all, his children and grandchildren. They reveals the identity of the ascetic, the rooting of his spiritual worldview in the St. Scripture and Heritage of the Holy Fathers. Reading them, says the author, I involuntarily imagined myself. Temples in the district are destroyed or adapted under the KLU, bathrooms, schools. The overwhelming number of priests is repressing, even talking about faith is unsafe. For found during the search, the gospel could be cooable to the concentration camp. But Bogolyubtsi remained and needed spiritual icy. Many of the learned about Starta Andrei Kuzmich walked to him for advice and my Lithuanian support. The notebooks were preserved, written by Andrei Kuzmich during his indulgence in the forest desert. They have a lot of quotes from the Holy Scriptures and the Holy Fathers. All my life, this man continued to learn the Orthodox faith. The Bible is his most important book. Another characteristic side of the diaries of Vera Ivanovna, according to the author, this is what Older Andrei, his family and people, in his bold, never considered themselves the enemies of the present power. Everything that happened to them, they took as a givenness, like God's loss, the media-rolled and continued to escape. We know about the exploits of martyrs and confession-coves of the new time. But we almost do not know about the life of ordinary believers, those who lived in the years of Gone. Just lived, worked, studied, created families. And at the same time kept his faith - I prayed, I learned the sacraments, raised in faith of children. They did not commit, like martyrs and confessions, open, obvious feats of faith, but when they came down their time, they came to the ruins and became the first builders of the recoverable temples. There were those who explained to us, people from faith far that these walls with knocked windows and the residues of the frescoes on the floor-smoking plaster will become a place where we will begin to acquit themselves. As the author notes, "almost all the events described in the book are real. Even an amazing wedding described at the very beginning of the story was actually. The history of the heroes of the book - Gleb, his wives of Elena and their daughters Kati - also a genuine story. These people say Father Alexander, today pray in the temple with us. The author tried to preserve the style of outlining, which is inherent in every member of this family. Their life is a real feat. The feat of love, self-submission - call it as you want. Just these three took and defeated death. But since this book is still an artistic, the author allowed himself some deviations from the chronology of events, rapprochement or, on the contrary, the distance from each other of some storylines, some selectivity of the narration and even experiment. "This is my vision," says Alexander's father. "I have the right to do this as the author and participant of the events described." In the preface of the book, the author writes: "In his youth, it seemed to me that the life I was about-live, I had not yet started that she would ever come down the head of the trait, somewhere there, in the unknown to me wonderful and lectured in the world. I did not understand what I already live and that my life was going on here, surrounded by people, well for me. Over time, I learned to watch myself and noticing those who live nearby. This book is about those who I loved and continue to beat, even if they are already with us. There is not a single loser in it, despite the apparent ponacha-lo, the situation of the situation, everything is here - only the winners. First of all, overcoming themselves. Dear reader, I do not promise you that by opening this book, you will get a light entertainment read. Not. Because I want to talk to you. Along with we will laugh and cry together. Because it is impossible in a different way if people want to become friends, they should be with each other honest. And otherwise, why ... "Another collection of stories Ieria Alexander Dyachenko is called "Time is not waiting" . This is a new collection of priest stories. From pages of this book, Father Alexander, as always, shares with the reader with a piercing stories from one of the arrivals of the Russian depth. We face a series of images, tragic and funny, a whole vintage of human destinies with their joys, troubles, adversity, the hardest falls and all-resting enlightenments. On the other hand, each story of the Father Alexandra is a conversation for souls. It happens when a random coupler after a few minutes of the conversation becomes suddenly a native man and the heroes of his stories come to life before you, as if you knew them for a long time, and now carefully and greedily listen to the news about them. This is the unconditional gift of the storyteller and the interlocutor - to revive his heroes, to make them uncomfortable. According to the author of the preface, Alexander Logunova, the father, as an interlocutor, experienced and tactful, offers the reader to reflect on his narration and the very conclusions themselves, embrace his main words, so that they call them-chali at the moment when we are ready to hear them. Open a collection of stories that raise the topic of human freedom, the newly incurred actual. The Soviet past of our country is a polemical question. Now it is fashionable to idealize it. However, after a quarter of a quarter of a century, it is easy not to mark, to forget what the same stability cost, causing many nostalgia. She cost freedom. Of course, not in the sense of permissiveness and read-out, the dark parties with which we are habitually associated with our era of the 90s. No, it's about freedom to be yourself. We live in a difficult time for our country, alarming. Quickly, tactfully reminds us of Av-Tor about the need to sober, to shoot, because from each of us depends on how long the Ros-Siia will be, - we do a story. Yes, and time is not waiting. It is speedless. Awareness of this fact makes me to refer to memories. The reason here can serve as a trip to the native city, meeting with high school students or Sunday gospel reading. "Memory" is generally one of the key words of the collection. In memory of people makes actions and sacrifice on temples. In memory of the Motherland, a leaflet with verses is kept in memory of children's friendship - a postcard. Important words about memory completes the collection. "There you begin to forget a lot," says the heroine of the story "On the river bank", who survived the clinical death, - and suddenly the memory suddenly wakes up. Memory - a big deal, she obliges to rush to those whom you love. "To the other topic - the topic of death - The author is returned repeatedly. As he himself admits in one of the interviews, "Death is a certain rubicon, a certain moment of truth, so I am often writing on this topic." Death is an exam. "Incorrectly told you that the time inexorably brings us to death," the Li-Richest Hero of the story "Time does not wait." "No, it doesn't bring us to death, but to the sky. There disappears the power of the astronomical time, minutes and seconds, And there no one is dying. "These stories are not about death, but about life, or rather, about the life of the eternal and about preparing for her. Someone it turns out well, someone is not very, and someone and Everything does not have time, I am infinitely postponing ... All this becomes food for thinking, first the copyright, and then reading. And now, together with the father, we go to Radonitsa in the cemetery, the fusion of the deceased and continuing to pray for them, and they They pray about us, because "Love, if she, of course, is, and after death does not disappear anywhere." Often readers become witnesses of a miracle, which has been going on with one or another hero of books in the face of death. Healing, appeal to faith, reassessment of life become possible thanks to the love of the characters capable of sacrificing. "Life for life", height Christ is the navigation - here is the condition of making Chu-yes. This is happening with many heroes of the book of Father Alexandra, and each such story is the proof of the existence of God, which acts here and now. The author tells about it, and his stories overflow alone to the other, and the reader suddenly ceases to notice time. The time, as Logunov says, is one of the main heroes of the book. Maybe partly because the stories of the father of Alexander is, in essence, diary records, woven from everyday observations, heard stories and parish chronicles. These are photos of our time in the optics of personal aesthetic and, more importantly, spiritual experience. Actually, because the sample of the feather of his father Alexander took place in a live magazine - a diary in its modern format. And any diary is a mirror, fully reflective time with his questions and problems. The story "Time does not expect" the author, reflecting on time, writes: "Every age applies to time in its own way. In childhood, we really want to become adults quickly, and the time then stretches slowly slowly. But finally we grow up and do not rush anywhere, and the time is deliberately accelerated faster and faster. It no longer goes and does not even run, it flies, and you are flying with him. At first it scares it, and you will fix it with horror every year, and congratulations on the next birthday perceive as a mion. And then we humble and stop paying all attention to him, and only sometimes ask for distrust: "What, already again a new year?" "The main words about the attitude to time and history also sound in the story" Business Card ", which makes it key in Collection: "I don't know," the author writes, "that after 50 historians, they will tell us about us today, which we do not guess today. The funniest thing, write they will be with confidence that they know us better than we knew ourselves. " But, according to the Father Alexander, "the court of historians is not the main thing. The main thing happens now. The story is going on at the moment, and each of us is a member of this business. And everyone will have to let the report for him. And also, "says Batyushka," offer me now Snow -a to become young and start all over again. Refuse. I do not need anyone else, and my time let go with me, because it is my life and this is my business card. " Again and again in their stories about people, Father Alexander Dyachenko returns to the eternal themes: sinfulness and repentance, cruelty and cute heart, tie and incubation, gratitude and indifference. Revealing us the next story of the insight or fall, with the restriction and depth of an experienced loving spiritual shepherd, he shows the reader, as the Lord acts in the arrangement of human destinies. At the same time, there is no moraling, nor condemnation. Only sadness and crushing about the unreasonableness of our and deafness. And yet: More confidently sounds in the stories of the father Alexander, the urge to choose and spiritual vigor. As if the father says, turning to all of us: "Decide to follow Christ, carry his cross - time is not waiting!"

I confess, the book of Father Alexandra Dyachenko "Scholia", released by the publishing house Nikeya, I began to read with the prejudice that the so-called "pastoral literature" has nothing to do with the literature itself. It must certainly be stuffed with shrinking instructions, crumbling in the crumb to the darling-smear suffixes, a sort of "night marshmallow of a stream of ether" or Marshmello, a delicacy for infantile.

Indeed, the first pages of the book justified concerns. Here and there a napreli then "gray unhesives with beer tummy", then "backs, as if stretched string" and other small suffixionally deformed items. Especially struck the appeal to "you" and the promise of mutual friendship. It must be said that such aspiration not only significantly knocks down the distance between the author and the reader, but instead of the desire to become his imperience.

However, already on the twelfth page, these critical comments were overcome.

Now a few formal observations.

In the composition "Scholiya" the author uses the reception of the text, the story in the story. Moreover, double and triple framing. It looks like the casket principle in the box. The main narrative line seemingly belongs to the storytellor, in the role of which the Archpriest Alexander Dyachenko speaks. His life is going on surrounded by many people. Dozens, hundreds - the Great Pleiad of Names occur on the pages, with each of which the main character connects micro or macro-plot. But the story of the narrator is actually only a commentary, scholaima to the main compositional rod of the narrative - the Diary of Hope Ivanovna Shishova, who will be found by the circumstances found and read not only by a narrator, but also one of the heroes.

The diary is an epic fabric, a countertime history of a single peasant family, originating in the village of Rader in the Samara region. Each of the heads of the diary accounts for the author's scholia, "Comment on the fields", which one or another correlates with what is happening in the diary. This technique creates a sense of continuity of what is happening, the semantic retrospective, which arises as a result of the simultaneous resolution of the plurality of scene lines.

So what is this book?

About love

About love for neighbor and far. To relatives and other people. About love wives and husband. About parental love (History of Girl Kati, bandaged to parents and has become disabled). "Love and forgive - this is the ability we lost."

The love of merciful is indicative in the chapter Scholia "Girl in the window". The patient with cancer is treated in the hospital poison for mice cyclophosphane. The same poison is etked in the ward of cockroaches. Dehydrated, Nina is attached to the sink to pour water, and notes two cockroaches that chat in the same way. Threesome they are attached to the haunted man, man and cockroaches. Cockroaches understand that now a person is not dangerous for them, he is in the same position, hesitate mustes and ask for help: "Help, man!" Taking the lid from the plastic bottle, Nina pours the cockroaches of water: "I understand you guys. NATE, Get off the driver. " "Mercy is as a key, even if you showed love for creatures such as cockroaches," the author summarizes.

About RAE

Not a speculative dream, and the real earthly paradise accompanies a person. Memories of the dusty of childhood transform even such a hopeless gambler, the threat of a district, a smokers-gigan, as Genka Bulygin from the head of Scholiya "Red Maki Issyk-kul".

"Sanya, you will not believe, whole valleys of poppies! They grow in themselves, no one sows them, "Genk knew such words and built long phrases. "You run and crash in them, like an icebreaker in the ice cream, and then float on red waves." While you are a boy, they shine you in the face when you grow up - on the chest, then only by hand. Will you fall on your back, you lie and look for a long time through the red petals in the sun and the bottomless sky. And there is everything else, there is no evil there, there is another air, other people. They are kind and smile each other. "

Rackness - in a mountain lake with a transparent greenish water, in the mountains of Tien Shan, in the forests of the footieters, in the herds of grazing sheep, in the fish, which Genka caught with his father in mountain rivers. Whatever childhood, the model of paradise is always formulated in it ...

About priesthood

Scholia is written on behalf of the author of the book, Alexander Dyachenko's priest. From the text it becomes clear that his homeland is the Belarusian city of Grodno. In his youth for reading the New Testament, he received a nickname "Sectant". The priest became the blessing of the confessor. And since then serves as the abbot of a rural temple in a village, which almost closely merged with a born city.

"The priest, like the doctor, accompanies a person from the moment of the emergence of the latter. But unlike doctors, it is worried and his posthumous being. After all, the fact that someone from those who were near, already left the world of earthly, in fact, nothing changes. His immortal soul continues to be in the sphere of my responsibility. "

Like the doctor, each priest, especially the parish, is the "alarming" suitcase.

"It happens that the challenge will not have a honey. The sublyer threw, saczozh grabbed - and forth. But by itself the suitcase is nothing, much more important than it fills. The main "weapon of labor" of any father is his cadyl and a cross. Cadyl can be new, Sofrin, but the cross can not. He must be a witness to a unlucky tradition from past centuries to today. "

From the head to the chapter displays the author of his parishioners. Trial stories, in which he himself is mistaken, exhibits impulsive, "human". In these stories, "the loneliness of someone else's person everyday and unnoticed. He goes to the temple in the hope that he is heard there. Approaching the priest, he probably understands that he will not be returned to the deceased son or lost health in the temple. He is not followed. I did not read Jung, but I have my own scale of human despair. And I know how to help you come to the temple. Nothing to talk, just to be next to him and silence. The rest will do the Lord "...

About death

The subject of death passes through the story through the story.

"I love to span. Chants seem to me the most beautiful and very touching. There are no despair in them, but there are at the same time the joy of the soul of the human, returning home, and the sadness of loved ones. Parting is temporary: the day will come, and we all meet again, and the words of chants instill hope. "

Death as a test as a matter of anyway concerns each hero. There is a cycle of death. Parents are eyewitnesses to leave their children. Children show the dying of parents. Every time, death appears in different ways, in every human history his death. A sudden or negligence (drowned with the children's drowsy), protracted from a long disease ("Today Paradise is filled with oncological patients"), with pain and without pain. The smell of rotting human flesh ("man smells bad") in shine and snow. The soul in the form of a pigeon appears on the last farewells.

Today's death is not as before.

Previously, she was prepared for death since childhood - the previous children were playing the funeral. Folded out the doll from the rag, they laid in the "Maleclic" (box for yarn). The boys carried the dead man, and the girls were drawn. The main thing was not to be shy, but to understand that there is only you and the dead man, and more than anyone.

To death was a premonition. The man went to the bath, put on a clean shrub, convened everyone to say goodbye and stacked under the icons. The soul was prepared for the care of earthly life. Now, the author is recognized, "the souls of us are more bursting." Speed \u200b\u200bdeeply in due:

Has my brother knee!

Gathered in your doors

Not on the feast honest, not on the wedding.

And we came, we spend you

In your last road-road.

Oh oh…

About the feat of small cases

Before us, the length of human lives. Each character of the book is engaged in conventional routine labor, quietly cultivates its garden. An early hour goes to the feud of daily business in order to see his temple in the magnificence. (So \u200b\u200bfather Paul, for example, collects bottles, digs in the garbage to restore monasteries and churches for the accumulated money). None of the heroes shy away from their case, not towards him. In awareness, recognizing the ultimate task - cultivating itself, it is important - inclusion in everyday life. Little everyday senses that are built into solid and densely filled life.

About the righteous

A feat of small cases - Isn't that the essence of the righteous? And again about the garden:

"Are you assured that our land is for the Lord? Yes, read the same garden as me. Do you know how much you need to work, so that the earth gives a harvest? And for what is this conservatory work? Yes, all the sake of the crop of righteous human souls. God is always working. Here is such a "garden all year round"! When God's garden stops giving the harvest of the righteous, then the world will come to the world. There is no need to spend such strength on it ... "

Speaking about the righteous, it should be said more about one of the heroes of Scholiya, which is Andrei Kuzmich Loginov. It would seem that the life of the "grandfather" fits in a few pages of the Diary of Hope Ivanovna, his granddaughter. However, it is he who, hermit and prayer, is the axial rod, around which the story rotates, in most cases, it would seem directly not related to him. It is about him that the author thinks upset. And, I suppose it, Andrei Loginov, the righteous and the confessor of the Faith Christian, was an impulse for writing "Scholii".

Dreaming about monasticism from childhood, at the insistence of the confessor of the Sarov Monastery of the Arzamas County Father Anatolia, Andrei Kuzmich was forced to marry. By adjusting the daughter, he digs himself a desert on the edge of the village, where it hits from 1917 to 1928. He lives three years old, he does not see anyone and does not talk to anyone, but only praises and reads the Holy Scripture, it puts 300 bows per day. Wife leaves him food at the threshold.

During the Stalinist repressions, "the deserted it was plundered, the key broke, the apple trees cut down, the cross stood big on the road - they cut down. Celle one party member transported to his yard and made a stable out of her. " However, my grandfather manage to escape - for several years, the family covers it in the house from persecution. He is experiencing the Great Patriotic War, comes to the sixty-first year, in which he dies at the age of eighty-six.

The image of Andrei Kuzmich Loginova appears in the book as the image of the saint, which has a gift of providence and the talent of consolation. Everyone came to his grandfather for advice and everyone he gave the necessary teaching, which is based on the indispensable Gospel Command.

"Whoever asked:" Do you believe in God? " - Do not be afraid and boldly answer: "Yes, I believe!" And God will not leave you. If at work will be reduced in office or enhanced, God will not leave, but it will make it even better. " Or: "Never put yourself above others. Learn from everyone. At work, do everything with the soul. Be honest, listen to the bosses, do whatever they tell you. But if they become demanding something illegal, which dispels with the commandments of Christ, do not do it. "

About historical Time

On almost four pages of the books through different generations of one family, the events of Russian history are held. Spicking, holodomor, persecution, security officers, collectivization, repression, war, thaw, stagnation, dashing nineties ... people behave differently. None of them is a winner. Nobody defeated. None of the words of condemnation are not told - nor in the address of the authorities or on the executioners. There are no negative characters in the book. Neither the hope of Ivanovna nor the elder Andrei, no other character of the book does not consider itself an enemy of the existing power. All that is happening they perceive as inevitability, the dality, as God's easiest, and the opportunity to escape for themselves and loved ones.

"Grandfather told us that any power from God. So it must be, and it does not depend on us. Only whatever power is, never renew from God. I remember when I was already an adult, my mother heard: if you are asked if God is, saying that there is. "

"I always believed in God. I prayed every morning and evening, prayed when I was on the exams or did something responsible. I prayed when it sat down at the table, but always to myself. The cross wore a fastened pin to the underwear, and in front of the medical examination or exercise on physical culture came to the toilet and uncovered. "

Schoolchildren are applied to the name of the names of people who came to Church for Easter. Saratov region. Photo: Tasse

Through the prism of faith, the country appears patient, merciful and trusting to scientific. But humility does not mean reconciliation, oblivion of all historical memory:

"Total seventy years passed, and everyone forgot everything. The new country needs new heroes, and now the name of the SS will call the streets, in his honor there are monuments and cast the Golden Star Hero. In the independent Uzbekistan, the Terrible Tamerlan was spooky and lay, who, after his raids, left the pyramids from the cut heads. The National Hero, his portraits are printed on money, the monuments are erected. Mongols are extolled by Genghis Khan, enlightened French - Napoleon. And you think: why, forgetting the creators of beautiful, poets, thinkers, scientists, doctors, people with enviable perseverance continue to praise Cain? "

About eternity

The main rod of the narrative "Scholii" is a genuine Diary of Hope Ivanovna Shishova, granddaughters of Andrei Kuzmich Loginova. Before the reader, the whole full of life drama associated with the loss of loved ones and relatives is unfolded (parents die first, then one after another she bury her daughter, her husband, grandson). She began his memories in the late 1990s, "when everyone you loved in this earthly life has already gone. Then you start to live in anticipation of the meeting with them there in eternity. Earth ceases to worry. "

She devotes her memories to her little great-grandchildren to a Vanechka, living abroad. It is likely that Vanya is the addressee fictional, but it does not matter. Because it is he who is the point that the whole generic experience is directed, all historical memory. The display point of each of us. The past, which becomes eternity, and the future, which is already eternity, are connected at this point.

"These memories of our family, about your ancestors, distant and loved ones, I wrote specially for you. I do not know what you're talking about now. But, Vanechka, I believe that someday you will read my notes about these ordinary people. Know, you have nothing to be ashamed. We honestly worked on our land, defended her from enemies, built temples, believed and loved. Remember yourself, my dear granddaughter. Remember, you are Russian. We love you, Vanechka, and helmet you from Eternity Bow. "

As a postscript, I will say that the concerns associated with the "pastoral literature", decorated in a series of "spiritual prose," turned out to be not thined - no, and simplicity in presentation, stylistic and lexical repeats, all this in the text is. But there is in the text and what raises the reader's perception over the expectation of the "actual literature", forces action - to look around him and see others - those who live nearby. Or, as the grandfather Andrei in a blizzard, go to the porch of the Cellee in the desert with the bell "Dar Valdaya" and for a long time to call for a long time, to have lost the direction of the traveler.

The word "Scholia" translated from Greek means "comments, notes in the fields." And with the help of Scholiy in the literature of the antiquity and middle ages, commentators were reflected on artworks - so, for example, it came to us scholia to the Gomeov "Illiade". In the hands of the priest and the famous writer Alexander Dyachenko, one day, also turned out to be the text that was brought to the idea to revive the forgotten ancient genre. So the book appeared "Scholia. Simple and complex stories about people. "

Two plump, written from the hand, the Notebook of the priest brought his parishioner Gleb - found an apartment on the mezzans, which I bought after the death of the former hostess, the old woman named Ivanovna. They turned out to be its autobiographical records. Long, not easy, filled with joyful and sad events The life of a woman who survived the war and the death of his daughter, became a thread of the narrative, which, as if beads, the author's reflections, sounding peculiar echoras written in notebooks.

For example, Nadezhda Ivanovna recalls how unexpectedly for everyone, and even for himself, married not for the handsome, with whom he went to the movies and on dancing, and for the guy who was friends, but about love, neither she never And they did not say. And the marriage turned out to be strong and happy, as if God himself prompted the right decision. Alexander Dyachenko's priest in the book "Scholia. Simple and complex stories about people "responds to this lyrical episode from his own life, recalling something unpatiently similar to acquaintance with his wife.

Nadezhda Ivanovna writes about the student years, which spent in Moscow away from the family, and amazed how many good people surrounded it. One day, for example, she went for the holidays in Leningrad, going to stop at the strangers of a class of one-line. And those took the girl as if native, although they saw for the first time in life. Alexander Father tells a similar story - being a student in Voronezh, not knowing where to spend the night, he knocked on a familiar friend - and they were laughed, warmed up and fed. Despite the fact that for a long time could not really understand from whom an unexpected guest came to them.

Alexander Dyachenko, Alexander Dyachenko, managed to create an extraordinary story can. These stories about human kindness, heart heat and perseverance in life tests, initially seemingly disparates, in the end, add up to a completely clear pattern, uniting several human destinies at once. "Scholia. Simple and complex stories about people "make you glad to think about the fact that in a huge world we are not strangers to each other - and therefore not alone.

I dedicate this book to my dear granddaughter Elizabeth and everyone who was born in the first years of the twenty-first century, with hope and love.

© Dyachenko Alexander, Priest, 2011

© Nikeya Publishing House, 2011

All rights reserved. No part of the electronic version of this book can be reproduced in any form and any means, including posting on the Internet and in corporate networks, for private and public use without written permission of copyright holder.

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Road checks

Shortly before the New Year, my good comrade came sad news. In one of the small towns of the neighboring area, his friend was killed. As I learned, so immediately and rushed there. It turned out nothing personal. A big, strong person of the age of fifty, returning late in the evening, saw how four young guys tried to rape a girl. He was a warrior, a real warrior, which has passed many hot spots.

Started without thinking, she rushed into battle. He beat off the girl, but someone was caught and hit him with a knife in the back. The blow was fatal. The girl decided that they would now kill her, but did not become. Said:

- Live while. Enough and one per night, and left.

When my comrade returned, I, as I could, tried to express my condolences to him, but he replied:

- You do not comfort me. Such death for my friend is a reward. About the best demise for him would be difficult and dreaming. I knew him well, we fought together. There is a lot of blood on his hands, maybe not always justified. After the war, he lived not very well. You yourself understand what time it was. For a long time I had to convince him to be baptized, and he, thank God, not so long ago he accepted baptism. The Lord took his glorious death for the warrior: on the battlefield, protecting the weak. Beautiful Christian Cum.

I listened to my comrade and recalled the case that happened to me.

Then the war went to Afghan. In the existing army, due to losses, it took urgent substitutions. Personnel officers from parts were transferred there, and they called for a period of two years in their place. Shortly before that I returned from the army and was among these "lucky ones." So I had to give my duty to my homeland twice.

But since the military unit in which I served, was not very far from my house, then everything for us was safe. On the weekend, I often came home. My daughter was a little more than a year, the wife did not work, and the monetary content of officers was then good.

I had to drive at home. Sometimes in military uniform, sometimes in a citizen. Once, it was in the fall, I returned to the part. I arrived at the station for about thirty to the arrival of the electric train. It was deadly, it was cool. Most passengers were sitting in the station station. Someone dreamed who spoke softly. There were many men and young people.

Suddenly, quite suddenly, the door of the station swallowed sharply and a young girl ran into us. She pressed his back to the wall near the ticket office and, stretching her hands, screamed:

- Help, they want to kill us!

Immediately there are at least four young people behind her and with screams: "Will you will not leave! End to you! " - Press this girl into the angle and begin to choke. Then another guy literally clouds for a collapse in the waiting room another same, and that yells with a heartbreaking voice: "Help!" Imagine this picture.

Then the policeman was on duty at the station, but on that day it, as the purpose, did not turn out. The people sat and frozen looked at all this horror.

Among all those who were in the waiting room, only I was the only one in the military uniform of senior lieutenant aviation. If I were then in a citizen, it was unlikely to get up, but I was in shape.

I get up and hear, like a nearby grandmother exhaled:

- Son! Do not go, kill!

But I already got up and I could not sit back. I still ask myself the question: how did I decide? Why? Would happen today today, it would probably not get up. But this is me today such a wisdom of sand, and then? After all, the very little child. Who would feed him then? And what could I do? With one hooligan, it would be possible to fight, but against five minutes and minutes not to sleep, they would simply wave me.

She approached them and stood between the guys and girls. I remember, I got up and standing, and what else could I? And I also remember that no one from the men supported me.

To my happiness, the guys stopped and silenced. They did not say anything to me, and nobody hit me, just watched with some kind of respected, or in surprise.

Then they, as a team, turned back to me and left the station building. The people were silent. Girly evaporated. Silence came, and I was in the center of all attention. Looking a minute of glory, embarrassed and also tried to quickly leave.

I go to Perron and - imagine my surprise - I see all this company of young people, but no longer fighting, and going to the embrace!

I got to me - they played us! Maybe they had nothing to do, and, waiting for the train, they were so entertained or, may argue that no one would stand. I do not know.

Then he drove into the part and thought: "But I didn't know that the guys had joked above us, I really got up." Then I was still far from faith, from the church. Even baptized was not. But I realized that I was tested. Someone at me then peered. As if he asked: how do you behave in such circumstances? The situation was modeled, while completely protecting me from all risks, and watched.

We are constantly peering. When I wonder, and why I became a priest, I can't find a response. My opinion, the candidate for the priesthood still should be a man of a very high moral state. It must comply with all the conditions and canons historically imposed by the Church for the future priest. But if we take into account that I was only thirty baptized, and before that time I lived like everything, then you want not want to come to the conclusion that he simply not from whom to choose.

He looks at us, like a hostess, crosses a strongly affected CROU, in the hope of something to cook, or as a carpenter who needs to nourished a few more skins, and nails are over. Then he takes bent, rusty, rules them and tries: they will go into the case? So I, probably, such a rusty carnation, and many of my fellow who came to the church on the wave of the beginning of the nineties. We are a generation of church builders. Our task is to restore the temples, open seminars, teach that the new generation of believers and girls who will replace us. We cannot be saints, our ceiling - sincerity in relationships with God, our parishioner is most often a person suffering. And most often we can not help him with their prayers, the Silenok is not enough, the biggest thing we can is just to share his pain with him.

We believe the beginning of the new state of the church, published from the persecution and getting used to live during the period of creative creation. Those for whom we work should come to the soil prepared by us and germinate on it. Therefore, coming babies, I look at your face with such interest. What do you choose, kid, cross or bread?

Choose a cross, my friend! And we will put faith in you, and then your children's faith and a pure heart will observe our sincerity, and then, probably, our ministry in the church will be justified.

The all-standing power of love

I remember - I was still a boy, about ten years old, a family lived next to us on one landed place. All families were military, and therefore the neighbors changed quite often. The grandmother lived in the apartment in the apartment. Now I understand that she was a little more than sixty, and then thought she was all a hundred. The grandmother was quiet and undiscoverable, did not love the old women's gatherings and preferred loneliness. And she had one oddity. Before the entrance, there were two excellent shops, but the grandmother endured a small stool and sat down her face to the entrance, as if he was looking out for someone, fearing to skip.

Children - the people are curious, and this behavior of the old woman intrigued. Once I could not stand and asked her:

- Grandma, and why are you looking face to doors, do you wait for someone?

And she answered me:

- No, boy. If I were able to, then I would just go to another place. And so I have to stay here. But I have no strength to look at these pipes.

In our yard there was a boiler room with two high brick trumpets. Of course, it was scary to climb on them, and even nobody risked from the senior guys. But what have the grandmother and these pipes? Then I did not risk it to ask, and after some time, going to walk, I saw my neighbor sitting alone again. She as if waiting for me. I realized that my grandmother wants something to tell me, sat down next to her, and she, stroking me on the head, said:

- I was not always old and weak, I lived in the Belarusian village, I had a family, a very good husband. But the Germans came, her husband, like other men, went to the partisans, he was their commander. We, women, supported their men than could. It became known to the Germans. They arrived in the village early in the morning. They kicked out all of the houses and, like a cattle, drove to the station to the nearby town. There we were already waiting for cars. People stuffed in heavier so that we could only stand. We drove with stops. Two days, no water nor food gave us. When we finally unloaded from the wagons, some were no longer able to move. Then the security began to drop them on the ground and finishing the Karabinov butts. And then we showed the direction to the gate and said: "Run". As soon as we ran half the distance, the dogs lowered. The strongests were devoted to the gate. Then the dogs drove the dogs, everyone who remained, built into the column and led through the gate, on which in German it was written: "Everyone is its own." Since then, boy, I can't look at high chimneys. "

She shouted her hand and showed me a knocked out of a number of numbers on the inside of the hand, closer to the elbow. I knew that this is a tattoo, my dad had a tank in the chest, because he was a tanker, but why prick numbers?

- This is my number in Auschwitz.

I remember that she also told about how our tankers were freed and how she was lucky to live before that day. About the camp himself and about what happened in it, she did not tell me anything, probably sorry my children's head. I learned about Auschwitz already later. I learned and realized why my neighbor could not look at the pipes of our boiler room.

My father during the war also found himself in the occupied territory. I got from the Germans, oh, how did it go. And when we were drunk Nechur, those, realizing that grown boys - tomorrow's soldiers, decided to shoot them. They collected everyone and led them, and here our airplane - saw the accumulation of people and gave the queue. The Germans are on the ground, and the boys are a swarming. My dad was lucky, he ran away, with a shot of his hand, but ran away. Not everyone was lucky.

In Germany, my father was a tanker. Their tank brigade distinguished himself under Berlin at Zeelian altitudes. I saw photos of these guys. Young people, and all breasts in orders, several people - heroes. Many, like my dad, were called to the current army from the occupied lands, and many were for what to revenge the Germans. Therefore, maybe they fought so desperately brave. They walked in Europe, they freed the prisoners of concentration camps and beat the enemy, finishing mercilessly. "We rushed into Germany itself, we dreamed of smearing her tracts of caterpillars of our tanks. We had a special part, even the form of clothes was black. We still laughed, as if we were not confused with the SSEs. "

Immediately at the end of the war, the brigade of my father was posted in one of the little German towns. Rather, in the ruins, that remained from him. Somehow themselves are located in the basements of the buildings, but there was no premises for the dining room. And the commander of the brigade, the young colonel, ordered to shoot down the tables from the shields and put a temporary dining room directly on the town square.

"And here is our first peaceful lunch. Wild kitchens, cooks, everything, as usual, but soldiers are not sitting on the ground or on the tank, but, as it should be, behind the tables. Just started dinner, and suddenly from all these ruins, basements, slots as the cockroaches began to crawl German children. Someone stands, and someone can not stand from hunger. Stand and look at us like dogs. And I don't know how it happened, but I picked up bread and put in my pocket, I watch quietly, and all our guys, without raising her friend's eyes on a friend, do the same. "

And then they fed the German children, they gave everything that it was possible to somehow drag away from dinner, and yesterday's children, who, not recently, did not get drowned, enhanced, shot the fathers of these German children on our land captured by them.

The team of the brigade, the hero of the Soviet Union, by the nationality of the Jew, whose parents, like all other Jews of the Little Belarusian town, punishers were buried alive into the ground, had a full right, both moral and military, volley, to move the German "geeks" from their tank owners. They overtaken his soldiers, lowered their combat capability, many of these children were also sick and could disseminate infection among the personnel.

But the colonel, instead of shooting, ordered to increase the rate of consumption of products. And the German children on the orders of Jew fed along with his soldiers.

Do you think this is for the phenomenon - the Russian soldier? Where does charity come from? Why not revenge? It seems that this is higher than any forces - find out that all your relatives were buried, perhaps the fathers of the same children, to see the concentration camps with many bodies of tortured people. And instead of "breaking away" on the children and wives of the enemy, they, on the contrary, saved them, fed, treated them.

With the events described, several years have passed, and my dad, after graduating the military school in the fifties, again held military service in Germany, but already an officer. Somehow, on the street of one city, he called a young German. He ran up to my father, grabbed his hand and asked:

- You will not recognize me? Yes, of course, it is difficult for me now to learn in that hungry worn boy. But I remembered you how you were then fed us among the ruins. Believe me, we will never forget it.

That's how we acquired friends in the West, the power of weapons and the all-standing force of Christian love.

I did not participate in the war ...

On the day of Victory, my father, how much I remember myself, usually sat alone at the table. Mom, without saying anything with him in advance, took a bottle of vodka, collected the most simple snack and left the father of one. It seems that in such a holiday veterans try to gather together, and he never went anywhere. Singing at the table and silent. This does not mean that none of us could guess him, he simply as if he left somewhere in himself and did not notice anyone. I could sit like the TV all day and watch military films, the same. And so from year to year. I was boring to sit and be silent, and my father did not tell anything about the war.

One day, probably class in the seventh, I asked him on this day:

- Dad, and why did you come from the war with only one medal, do you really fought? Where are your awards?

Father, by that time, he had time to drink a couple of glass, smiled at me and answered:

"What are you, son, I got the biggest reward, which soldiers in war can dream of." I returned. And I have you, my son, I have my family, my house. Is it not enough? "Then, as if overcoming himself, asked:" Do you know what war is? "

And he began to tell me. The only time in my whole life I listened to his history of war. And he never returned to this conversation, as if he was not at all.

- The German came to us when I was almost as much as you now. Our troops retreated, and in August forty-first we already found themselves in the occupied territory. My older brother, your uncle Alexey, was then in the army, he fought back with Belofinskaya. And we left our family under the Germans. Who among us in the village just did not move: and Romanians, and Magyars, and the Germans. The most cruel were Germans. All that would like, taken without demand and killed for any disobedience. Romanians, I remember, constantly changed something, well, clean our gypsies, Magyars touched us a little, but also killed, no one asking. At the very beginning of the occupation, two rural guys were appointed that older, policemen. They just did that they went with rifles, and so did not touch anyone. Classifieds will wave, that's all. No one has said anything bad about them.

It was hard. To survive, constantly worked and all the same starve. I do not remember such a day that your grandfather relaxed to relax, smiled, but I remember that grandmother prayed all the time about the warrior of Alexia. And so all three years. By the beginning of the forty-fourth, German began to drive us, young guys, on digging the trenches, built fortifications for them. We knew that our approach, and already thought as we would meet them.

The Germans understood that we were tomorrow's soldiers. After liberation, we get into the army and we will fight against them. Therefore, in front of our arrival, they suddenly surrounded the village and began to drive out young febris from houses and collect everyone on the central square. And then he drove for the village to the ravine. We began to guess what awaits us, but where to go, the convoy around. And suddenly, on our happiness, a plane. The pilot saw an incomprehensible column and went into a martial turn. I went and gave, see just in case the queue next to us. The Germans climbed. And we took advantage of the moment and dust. The convoy was afraid to get up to the whole height and shot us from the machines from the knees. I was lucky, I rolled into a log and, only when I was safe, I discovered that my hand was shot. The bullet was successful, not taped, and came out a little higher than the place where the clock usually is worn.

Then we were released. There was no battle for the village, the Germans moved away at night, and in the morning we woke us a rumble of Soviet tanks. This afternoon everyone was collected on the square, and there was already a gallows on it. When did you have time, it seemed to have come? In the eyes of the whole people, both police officers hung. Then they did not understand: since the Germans served, it means that you will be guilty and judged you by the law of war. This after the war of the former policemen was judged, and then it was not before. As soon as the bodies of unfortunate hung, so we declared that we were all who were under the occupation, now enemies and panties, and therefore they must wash off their guilt with blood.

On the same day, the work of the military field commissariat began. From our village and from the surroundings many collected such as me. I was then seventeen and a half, and there were those who else and seventeen people. I never thought that I would start to fight this way. I represented that we will be changed into a military uniform, we will accept the oath, the automata will give. And no one thought to do this. In the yard forty-four, this is not forty-first, weapons were plenty, but we are on one rifle on three. Who is in the lapties who are in the loose, and who and barefoot and went to the forefront.

And here such untrained boys drove the blame of those who threw us in forty-first to the mercy of the winner. We were thrown into the attacks in front of regular troops. It is very scary - to run into the attack, and even without weapons. You run and shout from fear, you can no longer anything. Where to run? Why run? Ahead machine guns, rear machine guns. From this bunda, people crazy went. - Father sadly grinned. - After the first attack, I could not close the mouth, the whole mucosa was not just dried, but was covered with a root. Then I have already taught me that, before you run, you need to score salt on the wet finger and smear your teeth.

We walked a month before the troops, all new and new "traitors" were added to our squad. I already had a trophy machine, and I learned to escape from bullets. When the order came 1926 to remove from the front, it turned out that from our village to shoot something already and no one. Won is now on Black Obelisk in the center of the village, all my friends are recorded. Why did they do, did you really need it? How many people were just so laid. Why no one regretted us, because we were almost still children?

And you know that it was the most emotional? In fact, not even these attacks, no, but the fact that my father was driving the whole month for me. And after each battle, he came to pick up the body of his son and bury in human. Father was not allowed to us, but I sometimes saw him from afar. I very much regretted him, and I wanted to kill me as soon as possible, because they would still be killed that the old man was suffering. And my mother prayed all this time, did not get out of his knees, and I felt it.

Then I went into teaching, became a tanker and continued to fight. Your uncle Lesha at twenty-six was already a lieutenant colonel and regiment commander, and Dnipro forced ordinary Standbata. Wonderful? War, brother, and the war has its own justice. Everyone wanted to survive, and often at the expense of others.

The bait then smoked, he will delay, wipe, as if he looks somewhere, in the depths of years, and then he continues again:

- After the Dnieper, he returned the Order, restored in the party, and the title was left "ordinary". And after all he did not bother.

At your uncle, twice on the front crossed. And only a glimpse. Once from the passing truck passing by, I hear someone shouts: "Facility! And you have no such thing? " - "Yes, how no?! Here I am!" We are standing in towards each other machines and masham, and you can not stop: the columns go. And another time at the station, our composition began to move, and I suddenly saw him. "Alyosha, - shout, - Brother!" He is to the car, we are hands to each other by Tian, \u200b\u200bto touch, and we can not. For a long time, he fled to me, everyone wanted to catch up.

At the very beginning of forty-fifth, two more grandmother's grandchildren went to the front, your cousins. Women in Ukraine are giving birth early, and I was the most latter in the family, well, and, of course, the most beloved. The senior sister's sisters had a paradise, here at the front and got. My poor mother, as she poured out Alya, then me, and then grandchildren. In the afternoon - in the field, at night - on the knees.

Everything was, and in the tank burned, on the Zeelian heights under Berlin, together with the commander of the company were left alive. The last days of the war, and we have so much crews burned out, what is the whole blood for us this victory was given!

Yes, the war ended, and we all returned at different times, but returned. It was like a miracle, you imagine, four men from one house went to the front, and all four returned. That's just grandmother did not return from that war. We poured us off, calmed down that we were all alive, healthy, cried from happiness, and then died. There is still a nonstaray woman, she didn't even have sixty.

At the same victorious year, she immediately sickly got sick, walked a little more and died. Simple illiterate peasant. What a reward, son, will you evaluate her feat, what is the order? Her reward from God - sons and grandchildren, whom she did not give death. And the fact that from people, all this is a fuss, smoke.

Father pulled me through the hair:

"Son, live by a decent person, do not pour in life, not to bring God to cry out because of you." And you will be an order to me.

And then he again continued:

- The news of the death of the mother came to me for the former Konigsberg already too late. I turned to the commander. And the commander then there was a colonel, Georgian. I went to the stoves to the top, and there is always a German dog next to him. Well, he treated me, even though I was the boy, and he respected me. Then, in forty-ninth, I remember, called to himself and asks: "Starshit, you will go to learn? Want to become an officer? " "So I was under the occupation, Comrade Colonel, I have no trust." The commander, having failing the fist to someone invisible, shouted: "And I tell you, you will be an officer!" And knocked on the table. Yes, so I knocked that the dog, frightened, lay down.

While I received a vacation while I got to the house - almost rode. Already the snow lying on the fields. I came on the cemetery, shook over my mother's grailer and went back. I'm going and a day that you can't cry. My mother's photos were left, and I remembered her as I saw for the last time, when she fled to our column, then, forty-fourth.

In some year, the Great Victory began to give the Order of the Patriotic War to all Frontovikov. I was glanced in the military registration and enlistment office, and according to the documents it turns out that my father did not fought. Who remembered the number of the Military Field Commissioner, which called the Father in Standa, who started a personal matter on him, if he survived something at a misunderstanding? Yes, and the rest of the rest walked without scratch. No marks about treatment in hospitals. There is a medal for war, but there are no documents. So, the Order is not laid. I then worried about my father, it was hurt.

- Dad, - I say, - let's write to the archive, to restore justice.

And he calmly answers me:

- What for? Don't you miss something? My pension is rather big. I can still help you now. And then, you understand, such orders do not defer. I know, for which he was given on the front, and I know that I did not deserve it.

Uncle Lesha died at the beginning of the seventies. He worked as a school director in his village. The communist was desperate, and all with God fought, for Easter the people in the church, and the uncle of my hut paints, and that's it. Died quite not yet old, I'm sorry for him, Lord. And after a few years, my father and I came to his homeland. I was then 17.

I remember, go to the courtyard of the uncle-hairy house. I see, hurts Bat from the fact that his brother is no longer. We arrived at the beginning of autumn, it was still warm, go to the courtyard, and in the courtyard a large bunch of fallen leaves. And among the leaves, the scattered toys are already unclean grandchildren. And suddenly I notice among this fallen foliage and garbage of the Order ... Red Banner, still without a pad, from those that were screwed to the gymnaster, and two orders of the Red Star. And my father also saw.

He fell into the foliage of his knees, gathered the Order of his brother in his hand, looking at them and as if she could not understand something. And then I looked at me from the bottom, and in my eyes it was such a defenselessness: how, they say, are you so with us guys? And fear: Does it all be forgotten?

Now I have for the same years as I was my father, when he told me about that war, and talked about only one-only time. I have long left home and rarely see my father. But I notice that all recent years on the Victory Day, after I serve the Panhid for the dead soldiers and congratulate the veterans on the holiday, I come home and sit down at the table. I sit alone, in front of me a simple snack and a bottle of vodka, which I never drink alone. Yes, I do not put such a goal, she is rather a symbol for me, because the father never drank her. I sit and watch all day movies about the war. And I can't understand why it has become so important for me, why wasn't my pain become mine? After all, I did not fought, then why?

Maybe it is good that grandchildren play fighting awards of grandfathers, but only you can not, growing out of childhood, forget them like this, on a trash can not, guys.