“Go, warm thyself, sit in the place appointed for Me, and eat from My bowl...”

This happened in the last century in a Siberian village (a man of that place wrote it down), and it seemed to us so notable that we must tell it to you:

“My father was a well-read man and made me love books also, and therefore whoever loved reading as I did I counted my first friend...

Once God sent me for consolation a young man of about twenty years, named Timothy, whose story I wish to tell:

He had been exiled to our village while young — the word went that, when he was left an orphan, the uncle who brought him up squandered his property, and so Timothy pierced his palm with a weapon; but since he was young and besides a merchant of the first guild, they were content with exile.

In his soul the grievance long seethed, and because of it he kept himself far from everyone, sat at home all the time and read spiritual books... It was the love of books that brought us close; I often visited him, and he gladly received me...

At first my parents thought our closeness strange, then they grew used to it and allowed me to visit him at any time...

Later my father too visited him, and we invited Timothy to us, and our people were convinced that he was indeed a fine young man; soon they came to love him, and moreover they pitied him, that he went about always sorrowful.

If anyone mentioned to him his uncle or the cause of his exile, he grew pale and began to pace gloomily to and fro; at such times he forgot even his book, and his eyes kindled with anger. He was honest in the highest degree, hard-working, but because of his grief he could not put his heart into his work...

The Lord soon healed his sorrow — he set his eye on my sister, took her to wife and seemed to grow calm. Ten years later he had gathered such wealth that he became the most prosperous inhabitant of the village: he built a house like a palace, had a good wife and children; what more could he desire? It seemed that the past too might be forgotten; yet Timothy was still tormented by his grief, and once, when we were driving in a cart, I asked him: — Brother, dost thou still grieve as before over what happened?

— What dost thou mean?

— What thou didst lose — hast thou not now gained it all back?

He grew pale and said nothing. I begged his pardon: I thought thy grievance had passed.

— What does it matter how much time passes, I shall remember it all just the same.

I pitied him, that his soul was so troubled... He knew the Holy Scriptures well and instructed others admirably, but himself could not overcome his grievance. Plainly he did not let the holy word down into his heart...

Timothy noticed that I had fallen silent and asked me:

— What hast thou fallen to thinking about?

Nothing, I say...

I feel that thou art thinking about me.

About thee too I am thinking, and do not be offended if I say it plainly: thou knowest the Holy Scriptures admirably, but thy heart is still full of wrath and bitterness, I say.

He answered me calmly: — There are in the world such grievances as cannot be forgotten, — and disclosed to me that he was aggrieved at his uncle not because of money, but because he had cruelly wronged his father, had brought his mother to the grave with grief, had slandered Timothy himself, and then by threats had taken to wife the girl whom Timothy had loved from childhood and whom he had meant to marry.

Can such a thing be forgiven? I shall never grant him that, — he added.

— Thou hast borne a dreadful thing, but it is also true that the Holy Scriptures remain outside thy heart, I say.

Timothy tried to justify himself — now bringing examples from the Old Testament, now from somewhere else... But I counselled him to forgive his uncle and to cleanse his soul.

He listened and listened, pressed my hand and cut me short: — Leave me alone; I cannot, it is too heavy for me.

Six years passed, but he was still tormented, and if he had met his uncle anywhere, he would have laid the Holy Scriptures aside and taken his revenge; but I was somehow at peace, for I felt that soon something would change and the Lord would deliver him from this torment. Timothy was then about thirty-seven, prosperous and respected. He loved flowers, especially roses, and his whole yard was full of roses... It was his custom in the evenings to go out into the garden, to tend it, and then to sit down upon a bench and pray.

One fine day he came into the garden, opened the Gospel and read how Christ was a guest of the Pharisee, who did not give Him even water to wash His feet...

Timothy's heart was so broken that he wept, and at that very minute it all began (I shall repeat his own account): — I looked around me and thought: in what riches and luxury do I live, while my Lord was so poor and homeless... My eyes so filled with tears that I could not even blink... All around turned rosy, my heart seemed to be wrung, and suddenly I cried out: — O Lord, if Thou wouldest come to me, I would not spare even myself for Thee!

...and suddenly from somewhere, like a breath, I heard:

— I shall come!

Timothy came running to me in agitation and said: — How wouldest thou explain this; can the Lord really come to me as a guest? — This is beyond my knowledge; what does the Gospel proclaim about this?

— The Holy Scriptures tell us: Jesus Christ the same yesterday, and to day, and for ever; I have no right not to believe.

Well then, believe, I say.

— I shall order that from tomorrow a table be set for Him, — cried Timothy. I shrugged my shoulders and answered:

— Thou thyself knowest what His will is; to set a table is no bad thing, but will it not be pride and presumption?

— It is said: publicans and sinners sat down with Jesus, — said Timothy.

— This too is said: “I am not worthy that Thou shouldest come under the roof of my house”...

The very next day Timothy asked his wife to leave one free place at the table... They sat down to the meal five in number — Timothy and his family — while the sixth, the most honoured place at the head of the table, remained empty. The mistress of the house was consumed with curiosity for whom this place was; Timothy answered: for the first of guests, — but apart from us two no one knew whom he was awaiting.

Timothy awaited the Saviour on the second day after the word heard in the garden, and on the third, and on the fourth... Weeks passed, and months, and church feasts, but no end to the waiting was in sight; yet he did not lose hope and believed that the Lord would fulfil what He had promised. Once he asked me: — Every day I wait and entreat, but no answer is heard.

I no longer knew what to answer him, and often thought that he was overcome by delusion; but God's providence proved otherwise.

The Nativity of Christ was drawing near. It was the bitterest winter. On the eve Timothy disclosed to me: — Brother, tomorrow the Lord will come to me.

Why art thou sure of this? I say.

Today, as soon as I entreated Him, a voice shaking the soul, like a trumpet, answered me: — Soon I shall come. Tomorrow is the Nativity of the Saviour, and, as it seems to me, on this day He was pleased to come to me, a sinner; come to me with thy people, else my soul will tremble with fear.

Thou knowest that I cannot contain this, nor do I expect to see the Lord, for I am sinful; but I shall come to thee, since thou askest me so, and I counsel thee with reverence: if thou awaitest thy dear Guest with hope, then make ready for Him not friends, but a company pleasing to Him, I say.

— I have understood thee, and tomorrow I shall call all who are in need, the hungry, those in distress and the sick, that everything may be according to the commandment.

— Timothy, who is able to do everything according to the commandments? One thing thou wilt not think of, another thou wilt miss, a third thou wilt not fulfil; but if this expectation so trumpets within thee, let it be so. If the Lord comes, He will supply what is lacking, and if thou hast failed to invite someone, He will bring him Himself.

On the day of the Nativity I came to Timothy with my family; the whole house was full of the needy, and the tables could scarcely bear the food. Soon all had come, and those who had been sent out returned, and they waited for no one more, for a dreadful snowstorm had risen; but the first of guests was still nowhere to be seen.

Soon it grew dark, and the time came to sit down at table. We all waited by the light of the candles lit before the icons, while the host, troubled, paced restlessly about, for he understood that the glorious Guest would not come now. He sighed and said to me:

— I see that something I have not fulfilled as I ought; plainly I could not gather those who should have been here. Let the will of God be done; come, let us pray and sit down at table.

He had just begun the prayer when something struck the wall outside so hard that everything shook; then the door of the sitting room opened of itself, and all in fear pressed themselves into the corners...

Suddenly on the threshold appeared a ragged old man, who shook so with cold that he could scarcely hold himself from falling... Soon we made out upon his hand a striking scar of a wound, long since healed and whitened by the frost, and Timothy cried out: — O Lord, I see him and receive him for Thy name's sake! But do Thou Thyself not come in, for I am wicked and sinful.

Then he fell upon his knees and with a contrite heart began to pray... They brought in candles. Timothy rose, took by the hand the old man who was clinging to the railing, and seated him in the chair appointed for the first of guests.

You have guessed, no doubt, who this old man was — Timothy's uncle, who told us briefly how his life had gone to ruin, how he had lost both his family and all his substance. Afterwards he had long sought Timothy, to ask his forgiveness... In this wandering and in the snowstorm he had lost his way, had frozen and was awaiting nothing but death.

— But suddenly, — said the old man, — someone unknown shone a light upon me and said to me: “Go, warm thyself, sit in the place appointed for Me, and eat from My bowl.” Then he took me by both hands and set me here in such a way that I myself did not understand how.

— I know, uncle, it was the Lord Who brought thee to me, Who said: “If thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink.” Sit with me, take what thou wilt, and remain in this house to the end of thy life, — Timothy said for all to hear.

From that day the old man went nowhere; before his death he blessed his nephew, and Timothy found peace.

Thus did a man learn how to prepare in his heart a cradle for Christ, born upon earth. Every heart can become such a cradle, if it fulfils the commandment: “Love your enemies, do good to them that hate you.”