Arriving in Optina, we served a memorial service (for Elder Barsanuphius – Comp.), cried, grieved, and asked the serving hieromonk: “Who is now an elder?” – “ABOUT. Nectary,” he answered. It was then that I understood why Fr. Barsanuphius sent me to Father Nektarios so that I could get to know him better; he had already indicated to me in advance who should lead me after his death. We decided to go see him after lunch. Everyone looked at us with curiosity as the news of our special wedding spread throughout Optina. This was the priest’s dying blessing. So, at three o’clock we walked along the familiar path to the monastery. O. Nektary occupied the premises of Father Joseph, on the right side of the gate. My wife and I are separated. She went to the porch outside the monastery walls, and I went inside the monastery. The cell attendant saw me and recognized me. He used to be Elder Joseph’s cell attendant. He immediately reported to the priest. The priest came out about 10 minutes later, with a cheerful smile.

Father Nektarios, in contrast to Father Barsanuphius, was short, bent, with a small, wedge-shaped beard, thin, with constantly crying eyes. Therefore, he always had a handkerchief in his hands, which he, folded in a corner, constantly put to his eyes. Father blessed me and invited me to join him. He took me into the confessional room, and there I already saw my wife, she stood up and came up to me, and the priest bowed to us from the waist and said: “This is joy, this is joy. I was hunched over and sad, but now I was joyful (and his face was beaming with a childish smile). Well, how can I receive you now? “Sit down next to each other on the sofa,” and the priest sat down opposite… “After all, you were blessed by the great elder… Elder Barsanuphius is so great that I don’t even stand the tip of his little fingernail.” From a brilliant military man, in one night, with the blessing of God, he became a great old man. Now only after his death can I tell you this wondrous conversion of his, which he kept secret.” And oh. Nektary told the story of the conversion of Fr. Barsanuphia. “That’s how great Elder Barsanuphius was! And amazingly, the priest was humble and obedient. Once, being a novice, he walked past my porch, and I jokingly told him: “You have exactly twenty years left to live.” I told him as a joke, but he obeyed, and exactly twenty years later on the same day, April 4, he died. That’s how great of obedience he was.” In front of such strength of Father Nektary, I involuntarily shuddered. And he continued: “And in your prayers remember the “blessed Schema-Archimandrite Barsanuphius.” But only remember him blessed for three years, and then directly “Schiarchimandrite Barsanuphius.” Now he is among the blessed…

Look for the greater meaning in everything. All events that happen around us and with us have their own meaning. Nothing happens without a reason… This is a great joy for me – your visit. I was sad and sad. Everyone comes with sorrows and suffering, but you have so much joy. This is a visit from an angel… Now I have many visitors, I cannot receive you properly. Go home now and come at six o’clock in the evening, when the all-night vigil begins and all the monks go to church. I’ll also send my cell attendant, and you come, let others pray, and we’ll spend time here.” He blessed us, and we parted again: I went through the monastery, and my wife through the outer porch.

When the bell rang for the all-night vigil, my wife and I went to the monastery. The door to the old man’s house was locked. I knocked and Fr. opened it for me. Nectary. Then he let his wife in and sat us together again in the confessional room. “The young people came to me, and I, as the owner, must meet you according to your custom. Sit here for a while.” Having said this, the elder left. After a while, he carries two glasses with dark liquid on a tray. He brought it to us, stopped and, bowing to us, said: “Congratulations on your marriage, I offer you a drink to your health.” We looked at the elder in bewilderment. Then they took glasses, clinked glasses and began to drink. But, having taken a sip, I immediately stopped and so did my wife. It turned out that there was terrible bitterness in the glasses. I say “bitterly” to the priest, and my wife also turned away. And suddenly this very word I uttered, bitter, stunned me and I imagined how they shout “bitter” at wedding dinners, and I laughed. And the priest read my thoughts and laughs. “But,” he says, although bitterly, “you must drink. Everything I do, you notice, it has a hidden meaning that you must comprehend, now drink.” And we, with grimaces, pushing each other, drank this liquid. And the priest already brings an open box of sardines and orders them to empty it all. After the bitter meal, we tasted sardines, and the priest took everything away. He comes again, sits down opposite us and says: “And I caught lightning. If you manage to catch her, if you want, I’ll show you. He approaches the closet, takes out an electric flashlight, wrapped in red paper, and begins to light it briefly, flickering with fire. Isn’t this lightning? Just like lightning! And he, smiling, put the flashlight in the closet and, taking out a wooden mushroom from there, put it on the table, took off the lid and poured out gold five-ruble notes from there and said: “Look how they shine! I cleaned them out. Here there are 20 of them for 100 rubles. Well? Look how the gold glitters, well, that’s enough for you. I looked and it will happen,” he collected the coins again and hid them. And the priest also said something. Then he went out again. We look, again he brings us two large glasses, this time with a light yellow liquid, and, with the same ceremony and bow, he brings it to us. We took the glasses, looked at them and for a long time did not dare to drink. The old man smiled, looking at us. To our joy, it was a pleasant, sweet, aromatic drink, we drank it with pleasure. This drink was even a little intoxicating. For a snack, he brought a chocolate minion, very fatty and a lot, and ordered him to eat it all. We were absolutely horrified. But he sat down next to us and started eating. I looked at the priest and thought: how is he eating chocolate, but according to the monastery’s rules, dairy is prohibited. And he looks at me, eats and offers it to me. So I was left perplexed. He told us to be sure to finish this chocolate, and he went to put on the samovar…

At 11 o’clock Fr. Nektary walked us to the outer porch and gave us a kerosene lantern so that we would not get lost in the forest, but would follow the path. When saying goodbye, he invited me the next day at 6 o’clock. All around, in the forest, there was silence and an overwhelming horror. We tried to get to the hotel as quickly as possible. The pilgrims were leaving the all-night vigil, and together with them, unnoticed, we entered the hotel.

The next day we again, at 6 o’clock in the evening, came to the priest. This time the cell attendant was at home, but the priest did not order him to leave his cell. Father again invited us to the confessional together, sat us down, and began giving my wife various artificial flowers as a souvenir, and saying at the same time: “When you walk along the field of life, pick flowers, and you will collect a whole bouquet, and you will receive the fruits later.” We did not understand what the priest was hinting at here, for he did not do or say anything idle. Then he explained it to me. Flowers are sorrows and sorrows. And so you need to collect them and you will get a wonderful bouquet with which you will appear on the day of judgment, and then you will receive the fruits – joy. In married life, he further said, there are always two periods: one happy, and the other sad, bitter. And it is always better when the bitter period happens earlier, at the beginning of married life, but then there will be happiness.

Then the priest turned to me and said: “Now let’s go, I’ll teach you how to set up a samovar. The time will come, you will not have a servant, and you will be in need, so you will have to install the samovar yourself.” I looked at the priest in surprise and thought: “What is he saying? Where will our fortune disappear?” And he took me by the hand and led me into the pantry. Firewood and various things were stacked there. There was a samovar right there near the exhaust pipe. Father tells me: “First, shake out the samovar, then pour water, but often they forget to pour water and start lighting the samovar, but as a result, the samovar is ruined, and they are left without tea. The water is over there in a copper jug, take it and pour it.” I went up to the jug, and it was very large, two buckets deep, and itself massive copper. I tried to move it, no, I don’t have the strength, then I wanted to bring the samovar to it and draw water. Father noticed my intention, and again he repeated to me: “Take a jug and pour water into the samovar.” – “Yes, because, father, it’s too heavy for me, I can’t move it.” Then the priest approached the jug, crossed it and said: “Take it,” and I picked it up and looked at the priest in surprise: the jug felt completely light to me, as if it weighed nothing. I poured water into the samovar and put the jug back with an expression of amazement on my face. And the priest asks me: “Well, is it a heavy jug?” – “No, father, I’m surprised, he’s very light.” – “So take this lesson, that any obedience that seems difficult to us, when performed, is very easy, because it is done as obedience.” I was directly amazed: how he destroyed the force of gravity with one Sign of the Cross! And then the priest, as if nothing had happened, tells me to chop some splinters, light them, and then put in the coals. While the samovar was heating up and I was sitting near it, the priest lit the kerosene stove and began to boil apple peels in a pot. Pointing to it, the priest said to me: “This is my food, this is all I eat. When volunteers bring me fruit, I ask them to eat the fruit and peel off the skins, and so I cook it for myself…”

The priest brewed the tea himself, and the tea was surprisingly aromatic with a strong honey smell. He himself poured tea into our cups and left. At this time, after evening prayer, the monastery brethren came to him to receive a blessing before going to bed. This was done every day, morning and evening. The monks all came up for the blessing, bowed, and at the same time some of the monks openly confessed their thoughts and doubts. Father, like an elder, a leader of souls, consoled and encouraged some, and after confession, he absolved others of their sins, resolved their doubts, and lovingly let go of all who were at peace. It was a touching sight, and during the blessing the priest looked extremely serious and concentrated, and in every word of his, care and love for every restless soul showed through. After the blessing, the priest retired to his cell and prayed there for about an hour. After a long absence, the priest returned to us and silently cleared everything from the table.

On one of my visits to Optina Pustyn I saw Fr. Nectarius read the sealed letters. He came to me with the letters he had received, of which there were about 50, and, without opening them, began to sort them out. He put some letters aside with the words: “An answer must be given here, but these letters of gratitude can be left unanswered.” He didn’t read them, but he saw their contents. He blessed some of them, and kissed some, and, as if by chance, he gave two letters to my wife and said: “Here, read them out loud. It will be useful.” I forgot the contents of one letter, and the other letter was from a student at the Higher Women’s Courses. She asked the priest to pray, because she was suffering and could not control herself. She fell in love with one priest, who captivated her with his incendiary sermons, and so she abandoned her studies, and runs to him for all sorts of trifles, deliberately fasting often, just to touch him. Doesn’t sleep at night. The priest responded to this letter and said: “You know this priest and have dealt with him. He would subsequently occupy a very large post, which had never even occurred to him. He doesn’t know anything about this yet, but he will receive this power due to the fact that he deviates from the truth.” – “What kind of priest is this, I think, well known to me?” Then the priest said that this was the student of the Theological Academy who came with me to Optina for the first time, and who wooed my sister. But the Lord saved my sister through Elder Barsanuphius, for he upset this marriage… (Now, perhaps, he really is in the Renovationist church and rules there.)

Going through the letters, Fr. Nektary says: “They call me an old man. What kind of an old man am I when I receive more than 100 letters every day, like Fr. Barsanuphius can then be called an old man, having so many spiritual children…” Having selected the letters, the priest took them to the secretary.

O. Nektary advised my father to sell the house in St. Petersburg and the dacha in Finland, otherwise, he said, it would all be lost. But my father didn’t believe it and didn’t sell anything. This was at the beginning of the Great War.

In 1914, my elder brother entered the Optina monastery as a novice and sometimes served as cell attendant for Fr. Nectaria. He often sent letters to his father asking him to send him money, because he bought various books of spiritual content and compiled his own library there. I was always indignant at this and said that since I left the world by calling, then break with my passions. And my brother had such a passion: buying books. I wrote to Father Fr. A letter to Nectarius, and a rather harsh letter, expressing my indignation and surprise. Father did not answer. The brother continued to send his requests, and sometimes direct demands. Then I wrote an even harsher letter to the priest, accusing him of not restraining his brother’s passions, but of indulging them. Father again did not answer. But I managed, from the front, during my vacation, to go with my wife to Optina. This was already in 1917, under the Provisional Government. We arrive at the monastery, the priest greets us with a low, low bow and says: “Thank you for your sincerity. You wrote without any embellishment about what worries you. I knew that after these letters you would come yourself, and I am always glad to see you. Continue to write such letters, and after them come here yourself for an answer. Now, I will say that there will soon be a spiritual book famine. You can’t get a spiritual book. It is good that he is collecting this spiritual library – a spiritual treasure. It will be very, very useful. Hard times are coming now. In the world, now, the number six has passed, and the number seven is coming. An age of silence is coming. Shut up, shut up. – says the priest and tears flow from his eyes… – And now, the Emperor himself is not himself, how much humiliation he suffers for his mistakes. 1918 would be even more difficult. The Emperor and the entire Family will be killed and tortured. One pious girl had a dream: Jesus Christ was sitting on the Throne, and around Him were twelve apostles, and terrible torments and groans were heard from the earth. And the Apostle Peter asks Christ: when, Lord, will these torments stop, and Jesus Christ answers him, I give up to 22 years, if people do not repent, do not come to their senses, then everyone will perish. Here our Sovereign stands before the Throne of God wearing the crown of the Great Martyr. Yes, this Sovereign will be a great martyr. Recently, he has redeemed his life, and if people do not turn to God, then not only Russia, all of Europe will fail… The time of prayer is coming. While working, say the Jesus Prayer. First with the lips, then with the mind, and finally it will move into the heart itself…” Father retired to his cell and prayed there for an hour and a half. After the prayer, he, concentrated, came out to us, sat down, took me by the hand and said: “I know a lot about you, but not all knowledge will benefit you. A hungry time will come, you will starve… The time will come when our monastery will be destroyed. And maybe I’ll come to your farm. Then accept me, for Christ’s sake, do not refuse me. I will have nowhere to go…”

This was my last meeting with the elder.

I remember another incident with Fr. Nectarius. During one of my visits to Optina, my wife painted a picture: a view from the monastery of the river and its low-lying bank, during sunset, with a completely clear sky and a bright play of colors. She put her drawing on the open balcony and went with me for a walk through the forest. On the way, we argued, and seriously, so that we were completely upset and did not want to look at each other. We returned home: the picture immediately caught our eye: instead of a clear sky, there were thunderclouds and lightning painted on it. We were stunned. They came closer and began to look. The paints are completely fresh, just applied. We called the girl who lived with us and asked who came to us. She replies that some short monk was doing something here on the balcony. We thought and thought about who it could be, and from a more detailed description of the monk and interviews with others, we guessed that it was Fr. Nectary. It was he, who owned a brush, who symbolically depicted our state of mind with my wife, and this thunderstorm with lightning made such an impression on us that we forgot our argument and made peace, because we wanted the sky of our life to clear up again and become completely clean and clear again.

In 1928, April 29, Father Fr. Nectary died. At his death, only Fr. Adrian Rymarenko, who read the waste report.