A sign from heaven

I read this story in the notes of an unknown wanderer.

There was, they say, a certain murderer, a robber of uncommon strength. He lived in the forest near a village and let no one pass along the roads round about. He fell upon them, robbed all without mercy — the poor man and the rich alike — and did not shrink from killing. And afterwards, with what he had plundered, he gave himself together with his companions to unbridled feasting. And foul cursing and songs were heard all around. Whoever heard of them avoided even passing through those places. So little by little that place became deserted; and their plunder little by little grew scarce. Then the robber gathered the members of his band:

— Lads! Let us now move elsewhere. It must be said that here we truly spent our time merrily. We lacked neither food nor drink. It is true that our lives often hung by a thread, but in these parts the mere mention of our name strikes terror into all. For fear of us not even a bird flies near. In this we may truly take pride. But, as you see, our income here has already run short. There is no one left to rob. It is time to move elsewhere.

— So be it! — all agreed with one voice. — But where shall we go with empty hands?!

— For that I have something put by. Do you see that monastery? Monks live there; they have money in plenty. It may be that they have so much that for a long time we shall not need to lift a hand.

— Shall we really fall upon that holy place? — the robbers were abashed.

— Since when have you become so soft-hearted?! What, have monks frightened you?! You, who feared neither the gallows nor the guillotine, are you now dismayed by monks?! Or perhaps you have taken a mind to be saints yourselves?! Do you not know that if we send the monks to the next world, they will even be grateful to us? They are always striving thither. And they will repay us from there with the help of their prayers. So make haste! Quickly, lads, take up your weapons and let us go; let us delay no longer!

The leader's temper passed to the members of the band also, and they rose merrily. Only one did not stir from his place: — I shall go nowhere; I have many sins upon me as it is!

The leader did not think long — and took his life. The rest argued no more...

The monastery was built in a wonderfully beautiful place. Both the church and the white walls of the monks' cells looked straight out over the gorge of the river.

The monks that day, according to custom, met matins with the ringing of the bells. How could they have imagined that such a calamity would fall upon their heads! In the midst of the prayer their service and their sweet singing were broken by coarse whistling and cursing. Like beasts the robbers burst into the monastery, smashed the windows, leapt into the altar and in fury began to search among the church's holy things for treasure and money.

— Hey, you! — roared the leader. — I advise you to bring out the money and the valuables quickly. Quickly, or we shall kill you all!

— Brothers, — the archimandrite addressed the robbers calmly, — whence should we have money and valuables? Our riches are this silver chalice and the service books.

— Thou liest! — the leader grew yet more furious and seized the old man by the beard. — Quickly, quickly show us where thou hast hidden the money!

— Brother, the devil has darkened thy mind; better that thou repent...

— The devil, is it?! Accursed man! To those very demons shall I send thee into hell, if thou dost not tell! — but seeing that these words did not frighten the superior at all, he grew still more furious:

— So thou wilt not tell?! — With these words he pitilessly crushed the old man's chest with the shaft of a banner.

— Repent, brother, — the superior spoke his last words with wondrous warmth and love, and gave up his spirit.

— Kill them all! — roared the maddened leader. — And he himself, in a frenzy, pitilessly slew the monks. With blood the walls and the floor of the church were stained. The next day the bloodied walls and the bodies of the monks met the villagers who came to pray...

Time passed. From that day the leader greatly changed. He went about always silent. Where was his cynicism and his arrogance? Possessed by dreams that tormented his soul, he heard unceasingly the words of the archimandrite:

— Brother, repent.

Wherever he went, everywhere these fateful words followed him. Even the rustling of the forest leaves seemed to whisper to him the same:

— Repent!

By the river, in the murmur of the water, he heard the same words:

— Repent!

And before his eyes there always stood the face of the archimandrite, with merciful eyes.

In those parts a certain hermit had settled. In a cave he had made himself a cell.

What did they not tell of him! Formerly, they said, he had been a physician, but then he took the path of the hermit's life and, instead of healing men's bodies, set his hand to the healing of their souls. With God's help he managed this heavy work well also and became so renowned that he drew a great multitude of people to himself.

Whom would you not meet at his door?! He received all with the same love. From him people went away healed in soul and cleansed. The door of his cell was open to all.

The former leader of the robbers watched the hermit for a long while. Much was told to him too of his piety. “A wondrous relief comes from talking with him,” all said, as though they had agreed upon it.

After long thought the former leader of the robbers too resolved to open his heart to the hermit. But the door proved to be shut against him. In vain did the sinner entreat him the whole day to open the door; thus night fell and morning came, and the hermit did not hearken to him. Yet the leader did not move from the place. Stubbornly he stood and waited for the hermit to come out. So passed two days, three, four. From the cell prayer was heard unceasingly; one could hear how the hermit glorified God. A whole month passed... All this time the former leader of the robbers fed on grasses, watered the place with his tears and entreated the hermit:

— Open to me, father, the door, to me, a sinner. Receive my confession.

And behold, at the end of the month the door at last opened, and a voice was heard:

— Come in, brother.

With hope he stepped into the cell. The hermit met him with love and embraced him with tearful words:

— Fearfully heavy sins hast thou brought me, brother. But God is merciful; be not afraid, nor give thyself over to despair. Be filled with faith in God. Believe that if thou repentest with thy whole heart, He will receive thy confession. For thou desirest to inherit the Kingdom of God, dost thou not?! And this can be done only by those who are full of obedience, faith and patience. That is why I have made thee wait so long, brother... Stubbornly I tried thee! I wished also that thou shouldest be filled with hope in God alone and with faith. Thy obedience has overcome my stubbornness; thou hast endured the trial. And now sit down and tell me all.

Long the leader told the hermit his story. He sobbed bitterly. Together with him the hermit too poured out tears. When he had finished, the hermit rose:

— And now go, brother, to that very forest where thou hast done so much that is dreadful. Dig thyself an earthen dwelling. There thou must spend this earthly life in prayer... Only pray with faith; pray for those people to whom thou didst not grant the chance to live upon this earth. And forget not thine own soul either. Here, take this lamp from me; take it and set it in thy dwelling before the icon, pour in oil, but do not light it. When God forgives thee thy sins, it will be lit of itself. And this will be the sign that thy sins are forgiven.

The sinner went and began to live as the hermit had instructed him. Whole days he spent in prayer, asking forgiveness of God.

Thus ten years passed... And the lamp was still not lit. He feared even to look in its direction.

— Forgive me, O Lord, and give me a sign from heaven, — he asked the Lord unceasingly. Sometimes despair took hold of him, but he drove it away with fervent prayer. Another ten years passed. In the sinner's memory the past little by little grew faint. To prayer he had grown so used that the demon could no longer overcome him. Now, when those whom he had destroyed appeared to him, he saw on their faces not wrath but rather forgiveness. And the archimandrite looked upon him as before with love and forgiving eyes. The trace of blood on his mantle grew fainter and fainter. And on the sinner's face little by little a light appeared.

Such a life brought him very close to nature and made him a true hermit. The animals too felt this kindly disposition and did not shun him; they went about him and lay down at his feet.

Beside him walked freely both wolves and hares, bears and birds and beasts of every kind. The murderer's soul was so cleansed that in every working of nature he recognised the will of God.

But the sign from heaven still did not come. The lamp was not lit.

Another ten years passed. The hermit's earthen dwelling became a refuge for other sinners. To the former leader of the robbers people now came for spiritual counsel, to learn the way of the soul's salvation. And he without sloth and without any self-interest gave out that grace which he had gathered in this time.

Once, in Holy Week, the awakened world of nature filled the hermit's heart with joy. Coming outside, he heard from beneath the melting snow the voice of a stream. He looked about him: here and there snowdrops had put forth their heads. He sat down by the road. Motionless, he listened to the breaking of the ice and the rustle of the forest. And if before such sounds had roused in him sorrowful feelings and grief, now for some reason they filled him with joy and comfort. Suddenly he caught sight of a traveller coming from afar. When he drew near, he noticed that he could hardly drag himself along. He went out to meet him himself, led him into the earthen dwelling, gave him food and let him rest. The traveller was so spent that he could not even speak. And then, having caught his breath a little, he asked the hermit:

— Why is thy lamp not lit?!

— Ah, my brother, my good deeds are not enough to light it. — These words shook the guest's soul:

— What then shall I say, I, a sinner! — he faltered with a sinking heart.

Feeling such grief in him, the hermit tried to comfort him:

— We are all sinners before God, brother! — he said, — but God is merciful. Thou hast heard, hast thou not, that He forgave both the publican and the harlot?! Did He not set in the Kingdom of Heaven the robber crucified beside His Son?! He will forgive us our sins also; but for that we must be able to repent of these sins. We must ask forgiveness...

And the hermit told his guest of his own life.

Yet more grieved was the traveller: — And if, father, after such a life and after such repentance thy lamp is not lit, what hope can I have, a sinner?! For I have not a hundredth part of thy faith...

The hermit comforted the traveller and at the same time asked God:

— Forgive, O Lord, this sinner!

But the traveller grew heavier and heavier at heart; confess he could not by any means; no comfort availed. Relief he did not feel. And towards morning his strength wholly failed him, his power was taken away, and in despair he could say only this:

— There will be no forgiveness for me! — and with these words he gave up his spirit.

The hermit felt how the sinner's soul went down into hell. He wept bitterly. For three days he prayed beside his body. He asked the Lord forgiveness for him. And on the third day he dug him a grave and buried him.

It was Saturday evening.

“Tomorrow is Sunday,” he thought, “Pascha is coming. The Saviour is merciful, and He will surely forgive.” In these thoughts, sitting before the earthen dwelling, wrapped in the fragrance of the forest, he continued his prayer for the departed. In the morning a mysterious feeling took hold of him. He felt that nature too had been plunged into mystery... From every side it seemed that they were proclaiming to him:

— Christ is risen!

The same was whispered to him by the breeze, by the stream, by the drops of rain that came from the clouds, by the flock of birds that wheeled above his head. Suddenly there stood before him all whose lives he had cut short. All looked upon him with love and announced to him:

— Christ is risen!

And the archimandrite no longer wore the bloodied mantle; clothed in white garments, he held out his hand to the hermit with love. And the wanderer's heart was filled with joy. But the sight of the grave grieved him again. He returned to the earthen dwelling. Silence and darkness had taken hold of the place. Sadly he looked at the lamp, fell upon his knees and began to pray fervently:

— O Thou Who art risen from the dead, Jesus Christ, open the Kingdom to this sinner; grant us forgiveness of our sins. Forgive him, I entreat Thee, forgive him... and of Thine unnumbered joy grant him a little. Thou art God, and I know that for the forgiveness of sins Thou requirest of men a sacrifice. And this wretched man can no longer do it himself. Therefore in his stead accept from me as a sacrifice my prayers, all my struggle, everything that I have offered these forty years for the salvation of my soul... For I am still alive and can begin everything afresh. I entreat Thee, accept all this, and if by Thy judgement he has deserved a dreadful lot, lay that punishment upon me, but deliver his soul from hell...

He was still in this entreaty when thunder crashed and somewhere lightning struck. Its sparks lit up the earthen dwelling. The hermit did not break off his prayer. Suddenly he felt that something was lighting the dwelling. He raised his head and caught sight of the lamp burning. At first he thought it was a phantom to him... With difficulty he rose; but he could not take a step; he felt an uncommon weakness; his knees gave way. From joy his breath was taken from him. And he could not draw breath again. And so, in these uncommon feelings, he gave up his spirit. Slowly his body sank to the ground. And his soul flew lightly upward, into heaven...

The lamp glowed brighter and brighter. It was as though it were accompanying the hermit's soul to heaven...

Thus shining did the monks find it also. With reverence they bore the hermit to the monastery. And one novice wrote this story down, that we might learn it and that in us too might arise such a desire to lay down our life for our neighbour.