Hegumen Peter (Pigol). "Archimandrite Pavel (Gruzdev)."
From Father Pavel's stories about his life.
I was already in exile, in the city of Petropavlovsk in Northern Kazakhstan, working there in a stone-crushing facility. One day, they called for us (we were all administrative exiles) to go to the village of Zuyevka. What was Zuyevka? Why go there? It's about thirty, forty, or maybe more miles from Petropavlovsk. And they told us we were going to harvest. But rumors say something happened there. The livestock and poultry were left unattended. But they didn't tell us the truth.
And there, in Zuyevka, there was this Father Athanasius, some kind of parasite. Maybe he was a holier-than-thou, or something? He'd been there for a long time, may be arrived even before the revolution.
And so, they brought us, administrative exiles, all in cars to Zuyevka. And what was happening there! My dear ones! The cows were bellowing, the camels were braying. My God! There was no one in the village, it was as if the whole village had died out. We didn't know who to call, who to look for. We thought and thought, and then decided. We went to the collective farm chairman's office, we arrived, and there... There was a bench in the middle of the room, and on the bench was a coffin. Oh my! And he, the chairman, was lying in it, shaking his head and looking at us sideways.
"Stop!" I said to my people, and then to him: "Hey, what's wrong?"
And he answered from the coffin:
"I am the newly departed servant of God, Vasily.
Dead! Reposed!.. And this Athanasius hammered home to everybody: "Tomorrow is the Coming, the end of the world!" And he made them all monks and laid them in coffins. He made monks of the entire village; they even sewed some sort of cassocks out of gauze, and not only gauze. They used whatever they could find.
He, Athanasius, climbed the bell tower, awaiting the Coming. And they—little children, women, and all the newly-made monks —all lay in coffins in the huts. The cows needed milking; the cows' udders were swollen.
"Why should the cattle suffer?" I ask. "Who are you?"
"Nun Eunicia," she replies.
Well, what can you do? They were hung up on it. We spent the night there, worked a day or two, did everything that was required, and then were brought home. That Athanasius was sent to the hospital.
A letter was sent to Alma-Ata, to the bishop—I forgot, I think Joseph was the bishop.
He declared all of Athanasius's monastic professions illegal. And all those monks were defrocked. They were given dresses and skirts, and then they worked as they should.
But the seeds were sown and sprouted. Little children run around:
"Mom, Mom! Father Luka punched me in the face!"
Father Luka isn't even five yet! Or:
"Mom, Mom, Mother Faina took my loaf of bread!"
That's what happened at the Zuyevka state farm.
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