St. Basil Priest Alexei Spitsyn, rector of St. Panteleimon’s Church in the village of Roza in the Diocese of Chelyabinsk:

 

Priest Alexei Spitsyn

 

St. Basil the Great is highly venerated in our family. Once, when I was a seminarian, I was staring at a fresco of St. Basil the Great during a service and wondering, What did this saint do that the Church honored him with the title “Great”?

 

After the service, I went to the cathedral shop and started vigorously searching for books with titles mentioning St. Basil’s name. I came across a thick book with his Life and works, which was published by the Moscow Sretensky Monastery. I skimmed through pages related to the saint's biography, and an amazing feeling came over me. My mind and heart were so touched by St. Basil the Great’s words that I wanted to drop everything and run away to pray. My birthday was nearing, and there was only one answer to questions about what to get me: the works of St. Basil the Great.

 

I received the book for my birthday as promised. After class, I painstakingly wrote into a notebook the teachings that most touched my soul. Over time, I began to add a short prayer to the saint who had become dear to me into my morning prayer rule. And I didn’t miss the chance to add to my knowledge about this Universal Teacher and his writings.

 

After I had graduated from seminary, the question of my ordination to the deaconate was raised. For several months, our ruling hierarch looked at me closely, tested me and talked with my wife. One fine evening, the archpastor called me over as I was carrying out my obedience, told me to pray and prepare for Holy Communion. On Sunday, I was expected to be ordained deacon at the church of St. Basil the Great in the city of Chelyabinsk.

 

During a service six months later, on the Eve of Theophany, the metropolitan invited me to talk—just talk about life. I returned to the service suspecting nothing. I continued to go up to the solea and read out the litanies. And before the Small Entrance, the metropolitan suddenly said, “Let's go and read the oath of ordination.” So I was ordained into the priesthood. I noted an interesting detail in the service—that the Liturgy was compiled by St. Basil the Great.

 

A coincidence? I don’t think so. I decided to name my oldest son Basil.

 

A proud deacon

 

 

 

At our cathedral, we had a deacon with a booming voice of which he was very proud. The deacon believed that his manner of reading the Gospel sounded like the reposed Archdeacon Andrei Mazur from Moscow. As for his “colleague,” the second deacon of the cathedral... well, he didn’t consider him to be a very talented person.

 

The incident happened during the All-Night Vigil service. The moment came when the deacon with the booming voice went to chant a litany. Standing in front of the Royal Doors, he suddenly smelled a vile smell. Bewildered, the deacon began to look around, casting a glance first at one end of the solea, then at the other. Once our deacon began reading out a petition, an unimaginable stench suddenly hit his nose even harder. After waiting for the choir to respond, the deacon breathed into his palm—it didn’t smell, neither did his sticharion and orarion. As the service progressed, a pattern emerged: the strange smell came whenever the deacon proclaimed a litany or exclamation. This led the deacon to believe that God wasn’t accepting his prayers. After the service, he went to confession with a contrite heart. And it never happened again.

 

“The Sniffler”

 

I have been called to visit patients in a comatose state on more than one occasion. In some cases, people miraculously return to consciousness during the prayer service celebrated in their presence. There have been many cases in my lifetime when God gave children to a couple in which both spouses were infertile, after their joint prayers to God. And I once knew a man with cancer who, after receiving Communion, felt no more pain and spent the last week before his death in joyful calm.

 

I cannot help but mention an incident that occurs to one of my parishioners regularly. The fact is that she sniffles loudly every two or three seconds. Doctors shrugged their shoulders: no one knew how to treat a strange ailment.

 

It hadn't been like this all her life. She began suffering from this anomaly after disobeying a priest during Great Lent. This elderly woman asked for a blessing for something that should have waited until after Lent. Having heard what the priest had to say, the woman did what she wanted according to her own will, and mysteriously began to sniffle regularly!

 

Soon this elderly woman was nicknamed “the Sniffler” by local people. Over time, they got used to this phenomenon and stopped noticing it.

 

During Lent a year later, the time came for the first sacrament of Unction. I served alone—there weren’t many people, and there was no need to hurry. At the end of the service, when people were coming to kiss the cross, this elderly woman came up and said, bursting into tears, “Father! I’ve been healed!” Indeed, no one noticed how the sniffling during services had suddenly disappeared. It was a real miracle for our parish! But a week later, the inexplicable phenomenon resumed. The priests and parishioners made the following observation: the poor woman’s sniffling would disappear after each Unction for about a week, but not more.

 

God is always strong in performing miracles. He remembers us in every moment of our lives. I made a very important conclusion for myself: In order to learn some of life’s lessons, we also have to suffer. But our suffering is neither endless, nor pointless. This is how God reveals Himself to man in the most striking way.

 

Prepared by Vladimir Basenkov

Translation by Dmitry Lapa

 

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