Khristos Anesti! Christus Surrexit! Khristos Voskrese! Christ Is Risen!
Alithos Anesti! Vere Surrexit, Alleuia! Voistono Voskrese! Truly, He Is Risen!


THE SINFUL VILLAGE

This happened not long after the revolution, when the bolsheviks slew
Batiushka � the Tsar'. [see footnote, below] Everything was turned
inside-out and topsy-turvy. Beaten were those who worked, and honoured were
those who shirked. Not to them who ploughed the fields was proper credit
given, but to them who glibly set their tongues a-wagging. Their red flags
the bolsheviks did set a-dangling, all to themselves a-luring. And the
unlettered folk knew not wherein was sin, wherein salvation.

On the eve of Holy Pascha, the bolsheviks burnt the village church. To
inspire terror, they began shooting the people. All the peasant-men
[muzhiki] ran home to their huts [izby], while all the peasant-women
[ba�by] set to wailing their lament. O, woe! What woe! But yet a greater
woe was this: that they hid all the ikons in their huts, and hung up
[pictures of] that bearded Karlie Marxie, in their stead.

An elderly, infirm batiushka dwelt next to that church. The bolsheviks
dragged him out into the courtyard, as ailing as he was, and began to drive
him along the road with a knout. And, driving him along, they would
clamour: "Deny God!" They exposed him to public mockery, they beat him with
the knout, they threw stones at him. But God sees, who to whom doeth wrong.

And so, batiushka went along his way, a-praying, desponding not, but all
his hopes on God a-pinning. Tears � tears, most-pure � streamed from his
eyes. He wept for the faith that had been cast down; for the church, he
wept. 'Twas not himself he pitied, but all the Orthodox folk.

People hid themselves away in their huts, in their fright. And none would
so much as open their doors to batiushka. None would so much as bring out
bread and water to him. There had been people in that village who had not
been at all cowardly, but the bolsheviks had executed them beforehand, or
had immured them in prison. And, as for the rest, the sinful folk, O Lord,
forgive them!

Batiushka left the village. Without a cross, you are not Christ's. There
was no longer anything good left in that village. Batiushka settled down in
the woods. God will provide the day; God will provide the meal. The rain
from the heavens provided him drink, the forest berries fed him. He would
pray from the dawning of the day to the setting of the sun, repeating, time
and time again, "Fear none, save God alone."

Of Holy Pascha did the day arrive. Mighty is the hand of God; the hand of
God is master. Clouds, black as black could be, gathered o'er the village.
Thunder and lightning, there was. The heavenly fire struck straight at the
village council [sel'soviet], right where the red flag was a-hanging. The
bolsheviks, they ran about, a-shouting: "Fire!" But none hastened to their
aid. The people realized that God, the Lord, sans faith, shall not deliver
thee; nor, sans righteousness, reform thee.

The little children were the first to scurry to batiushka in the woods.
Falling to their knees, they clamoured: "Batiushka, forgive! Batiushka,
bless!" And he kissed them all so, and blessed the little tykes, each and
every one. Following after their little ones, the peasant-men and
peasant-women also hastened off to the forest. They realized that to
encroach upon that which belongs to God, is to lose what is one's own. They
became ashamed of their fear and faintheartedness. Their sin was in
forgetting their folk-wisdom, forgetting that "If you walk about under God,
you bear God's will."

All the doors flew open. The masters of the houses all invited batiushka
into their huts. All were glad to see him. All wanted to treat him to a pie
[pirog] or to a spicy gingerbread [priannik]. And the portrait of the
bearded Karlie Marxie was no longer dear and precious to them. All flocked,
instead, to the ikons, to implore forgiveness for their sins. Pray to the
ikon, and be at peace.

Batiushka neither reproached nor scolded anyone. Only, from that time on,
he was never again seen in the village. 'Twas said of him that he had made
his way to a far-distant region, where the people had managed to preserve
their church, even during the bolshevik period. He was old; but, for him,
to live was to serve God. And there, for yet another five years, did he
honourably serve the Lord, up until the very hour of his death.

And, as for that village, it came to be called Sinful. Literally curs'd, it
was. In the summer, there was drought; in the autumn � flooding. Each year
meant another failed crop. Truly did our elders say to our grandsires, and
our grandsires say to us: a city without a Saint doth not stand, nor a
village without a righteous one.

(as recorded, in Russian, by Natalia Dyachenko)


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Batiushka � a Russian term for "Father," which is expressive of both
endearment and veneration, at one and the same time. The Tsar' was
Batiushka, for he was the beloved Sire of his people. Likewise, the same
word is also commonly used in addressing a priest, who is the spiritual
father of all good Orthodox folk. And, in Russia of old, in Holy Rus', it
was also used in addressing one's natural father.

As far as making a choice between translating the word, in this case, or
simply transliterating it, the only extra-Russian term with which I am
familiar that perhaps most closely conveys the sense of batiushka is the
Aramaic abba (or avva) which Christ used in addressing His Father in
Heaven; but to translate the word thusly would simply compound the problem,
without resolving it. Far better were it simply to transliterate the word,
and have done with the matter.

Now, it is true, of course, that there have been some who have attempted to
translate the latter term (abba) as "daddy," but I could not, in good
conscience, do so � be it with abba or with batiushka. For while that
particular word could, conceivably, be expressive of some degree of
endearment, it certainly is lacking in the proper degree of reverence;
hence, it is an unsuitable term to employ, in either instance. On the other
hand, to resort to the simple use of "father," tends to suffer from the
other extreme. Hence, I have simply transliterated the word, and the reader
has expanded his or her vocabulary. Thus, �i volki syty, i ovtsy tsely�
("both the wolves are fed and the sheep are safe"), as the Russian saying goes.

Furthermore, much of the original Russian text of this tale consists of
so-called "peasant-speech," rich in poetically-rendered Russian proverbs
and folk-sayings, the originals of which, obviously, are in rhymed verse.
As I am sorely lacking in any gift for poetic expression, however (my Muse,
I must suppose, is off somewhere, a-fishing, for someone with a tongue more
golden), I have been compelled, of necessity, to resort, almost entirely,
either to blank verse or to simple prose, for which I humbly beg the
reader's indulgence and forgiveness. (O, the difficulties of pretending to
be a translator! � gs)
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Translated into English by G. Spruksts, from the Russian text entitled "Nye
boisya nikago, tokmo Boga odnago" ("Fear None, Save God Alone"), appearing
in a section devoted to �Vera, Rodina, Sem�ya� ("The Faith, The Motherland,
The Family") in "Pravoslavnaya Zhizn'" (the Russian edition of "Orthodox
Life") � A Supplement to "Pravoslavnaya Rus'" (�Orthodox Rus'"). Vol. 49,
No. 3 (567), March 1997, pp. 22-24. English-language translation copyright
� 1998 by The St. Stefan Of Perm' Guild, The Russian Cultural Heritage
Society, and the Translator. All rights reserved.

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