It has been a long time since I had so much fun as in an interview with Nun Minodora. My pre-existing stereotypes of monastics and monasticism, I expected it to be serious, businesslike and maybe even moralising. But as I realised in this interview, one can talk about serious and important matters at sufficient depth, yet without losing one's sense of humour.
Nun Minodora is now 43 years old. She joined St. Elizabeth Convent in 2003 and has spent a good half of her life here. But she never thought of becoming a monastic in childhood or youth, as she herself admits. Tatiana (her birth name) dreamed of a career in the army or as a circus performer, as did many of her peers. Yet she also stood out from them.
She was born in 1980 in Pinsk. She was the second daughter in her family. Her parents did not go to church, or have anything to do with it. Her father worked in a position of authority in one of the city's enterprises, and in those years, a management career and religion were two incompatible things. But her grandmothers were deeply religious.
"They took me to church as a child, for which I am deeply thankful”, says Matushka Minodora. “I was only three, and I remember how my grandmother Vera was carrying me to church in her arms, and leading my older sister there by the hand." Her parents did not want to hear anything about the church, but Tatiana's grandmother fought steadfastly for the children's souls. Nun Minodora remembers: “When I was 10 years old, I joined a Sunday school that had just opened in the building of a former cinema. The Soviet authorities had confiscated it from the monastery but later gave it back. I had been going to church since childhood, and I enjoyed it a lot. We would get together with my peers, who were not going to church much, to read the Bible and the Gospel. We were eight or nine then. Incidentally, three of my classmates have joined monasteries."
As it seemed to little Tatiana, her grandmother Anna knew all the prayers. As a child, she spent nearly all her summers with her grandmother in a village near Drogichin, where she saw her grandmother turn to God and the saints before starting any job.
"They say that a person's ending can tell a lot about their life. Here is how my grandmother lived and how she met her end. Let me tell you her story," begins Nun Minodora.
"My grandmother's oldest son was a military pilot, and he died in an air crash when he was only 25. Soon after his tragic death, she almost lost her hearing and remained deaf for the rest of her life. She outlived her husband by fifteen years. Grandmother Anna lived alone in a village. Her daughters had moved away to other cities and called her to live with them, but she was adamant: "I want to die in my own home!" She lived to age 93 and kept a large domestic farm. She had a 60-acre garden and owned a cow, a goat, and multiple sheep, swine, geese and chickens. Every day, she was up by four or five in the morning. As she would admit later, the thought of her animals going hungry made her get out of bed when she felt she could not. She stayed healthy all her life. But one winter day, she broke her hip, and her daughters and grandchildren managed to talk her into moving in with them. She simply could not say no.
So, on the eve of her move, she says to her daughters: "I am sweating. Please bring me a new shirt from the wardrobe to change into. They brought her a shirt. Then she asks my mother Vera: "Go to the corridor and open the door, I feel hot." My mother opened the door to let some air in. At that moment, my grandmother folded up her hands and departed.
Her family was around, and she was conscious until her last moment. She had a difficult life, but she lived it in God. Many people who knew her came to pay her their last respects."
Nun Minodora continues: "We all knew that my grandmother wanted everyone to have as much meat as they could eat at her funeral dinner. Her wish was fulfilled. In preparation for her move, all the animals had been slaughtered for sausages and other meat delicacies. It was the beginning of Lent before the meat fare week ended. People who live in God always have their wishes fulfilled."
Mother Minodora by the sea
Nun Minodora has found her family at the Convent. It could have been no other monastery but this, she would not have joined any other, as she admits.
After finishing school, she entered the Faculty of Philology of the Belarusian State University. At that time, she met some sisters of mercy from the Convent (also called white sisters who were collecting donations in different locations in Minsk. Soon, she also became a sister of mercy. It was in the late 1990s when the sisters were still gathering at the Metropolitan Church of Sts. Pete and Paul, while the Convent was still being built.
"One day, I joined Sister Galina to collect donations at the railway station, and she suggested: "There is a tonsure today at Saint Elisabeth Convent. Would you like to come?" So I went. That tonsure was our first, and it was of the Mother Abbess Euphrosyne Laptik. It happened on 22 August 1999, and we have celebrated this date to this day as the anniversary of Saint Elisabeth Convent. It was my first time at the Convent, and such an important date," remembers Nun Minodora, joyfully.
Most secular people would see it as a coincidence, but for the faithful, nothing happens by chance, but by the providence of God. Nun Minodora recounts: "Over my five years at university, the Convent and sisterhood had become my family. In the final year of my studies, I began to think about my future. I had studied English and French. I had an interest in languages, but not enough to devote my whole life to this career. I also learned horse riding for five years. That looked like an attractive option, but by that time the Convent and the Sisterhood had entered my life so deeply, that I could not imagine my life without them. Each day brought fresh discoveries, revealing to me something that many others were not noticing or did not know about: the time we were spending with the disabled children in long-term care, the patients at the mental clinic and other vulnerable people. It was an essential element of the Convent's life, of which I wished to be part. I also saw a touch of holiness in the sisters, and I still see it. We each have our sins, passions or weaknesses, of course, but that does not take away from the holiness of each. I feel humbled in their presence, and I thank God for bearing with me. And I am also thankful to the sisters for their patience."
Her parents' reaction to her decision to join the Convent was far from straightforward. Her mother took it as a loss and cried over her for almost a year. Her friends nodded their heads: "How sad! It is as if she has died for us!" But her father was already living in a monastery, and everyone around him exclaimed in approval: "What wonderful news!"
Nun Minodora concludes: "Eventually, my mother calmed down and said: "I lost one daughter, but have received almost a hundred."
Nun Minodora
In 2003, Tatiana joined the Convent as a novice. She no longer considers her secular name as her own. She received a new name during her tonsure. She recalls: "I always loved St Ambrosias of Optina so much that I even wished to be called Ambrosia. But Vladyka Philaret (Vakhromeev) never gave male names to nuns. As an alternative, I hoped to be given a rare and ancient name."
She was tonsured with two other sisters. They were given the names of three martyr sisters who lived in the fourth century in Bithynia (Nicomedia), now Turkey: Minodora, Mitrodora and Nymphodora.
Putting flowers in the church
"The three holy martyrs are commemorated twice during the church year, on 23 September and the feast of the Holy Trinity," says Nun Minodora. "I was born on Trinity Day, and that, too, was not a coincidence. Metropolitan Philaret performed the tonsures to the Rasophore and mantle. He irradiated so much fatherly love and prayed so deeply that seemed as if Christ Himself was performing the sacrament. The three of us - Minodora, Mitrodora and Nymphodora - are very alike. We are approximately the same age and height. Many take us for blood sisters."
"Six months after our tonsure, the relics of the three martyrs were brought to Saint Elisabeth Convent from Mount Athos, and a particle thereof was later deposited in their icon that can now be seen on the right side of the door to the Church of the Reigning Icon of the Mother of God."
When Mother Minodora joined, the Convent had only 20 monastic sisters. Now there are more than 130. Nun Minodora explains: "They are of different ages and come from different places, some from outside of Belarus. We have sisters from as far as Serbia, Poland, Germany and even Brazil. Most have university diplomas. With the blessing of Metropolitan Philaret, all monastics have also received a religious education."
"Vladyka Philaret was a deep, interesting person, and highly intelligent man. He came from the old guard of the intelligencia," remembers Nun Minodora. "He was an artist and an actor at heart, and also gifted in the spirit and at prayer. I remember him with fondness and joy. He had a great sense of humour.
One of the nuns at our Convent was named Martha. Vladyka gave her this name when he came to the Convent to give her tonsure. When our spiritual father knew her new name, he remarked: But Vladyka, we already have a Martha." Vladyka replied: "Father! The Lord said Martha, Martha. The name occurs twice in the Gospel." Several tonsures later, Metropolitan Philaret gives a third nun the name Martha." Father Andrey says to him: We already have two Martha's!" To that, Metropolitan Philaret replied: "Quiet, Father! Pray."
Finally, as he was leaving our sewing studio after having his measurements taken, he turned around and said: "Good-bye and good luck."
Sisters with the Doves
Each sister has her motive for wearing the black monastic habit and spending the rest of her life in prayer and obedience. But the joyful glow on their faces and the twinkle in their eyes suggest that they are leading full lives, free from deprivation. Many have revealed and realised new talents. A life of obedience is also one of service to another, opening up a variety of occupations and pursuits at one of the Convent's multiple studios, at the long-term care facility for disabled children near the Convent, or the hospitals, visiting the sick.
Nun Minodora explains: "Our work with the disabled children teaches us a lot. By abandoning them, their parents may have lost the gift of grace that God had given them with the birth of their sick child so that they could learn something important... about love and compassion, for example. They give their love and kindness without holding back. Despite being sick and abandoned, they know how to welcome every day and appreciate every good thing, however insignificant. But in the adult world, we know very well how to grumble about our problems that are small compared to theirs. I visit these children to offer them reassurance, but I often receive reassurance from them."
The sisters' morning starts early: during Lent and on Mondays they rise at 4, and on days, at 5:45. During Lent, Mother Minodora wakes everyone up for services by striking her bilo, a long and narrow wooden board. The instrument has an interesting story behind it.
Nun Minodora recounts: "Inspired by the ways of the Athonite monasteries, our Mother Abbess wanted to have a bilo at the Convent, too, even though there is no little tradition of using it in Russia or Belarus. How is this instrument special? Its beat reaches through walls. The walls resonate with it and make it sound even louder. I have visited a monastery affiliated with Mount Athos. We were on our way to receive a blessing from its elderly abbot when we noticed a bilo outside his cell. After the blessing, I asked him if we could get one for us. He replied: "This must be the Providence of God. Our old bilo had worn out, and we ordered a new one from Mount Athos. The order arrived yesterday, and there were two bilos there instead of one. The second must be for you." He handed me the bilo. I have been using it ever since."
Incidentally, one of Nun Minodora's responsibilities is to edit the rubric "Gentle Humour" of the Convents website. It was a discovery for me and might become one for you. Monastics laugh, too, so read it to find out what they find funny.
Nun Minodora explains: "Humour is essential to spiritual life, for sure. Even the Apostle Paul said: "Always rejoice, give thanks for everything!" (1 Thessalonians 5: 16, 18).
According to Nun Minodora, the greatest miracle of all is the transformation of a person: "That happened to my dad, Anatoly Antonovich. He was a top manager at a factory and an unbeliever. He was always opposed to the church and religion. Just the thought of crossing himself gave him shivers. When his older daughter married in church, he refused to go in. At some point, I lost all hope, and said: Lord, please take my dad's salvation into Your hands, because I do not think that I can do much more myself.
God heard my prayer and acted. My father happened to join a monastery a week earlier than I joined mine. In the difficult 1990s, he had to preside over mass dismissals in his factory. Close to 60% of its workers were made redundant. Facing the loss of their livelihoods, people pleaded with him not to make them leave. He felt guilty and was nervous. He quit and stayed home. Little by little, he took to drinking.
Six months later, he received a call from a friend in the Moscow region. From Serpukhov, I think. He invited him to come and take a job there. I said to him: "Dad, I think you should go. There is a monastery over there with the icon Undrinkable Chalice. It can help you with your drinking. Come venerate the icon. He replied: "What nonsense!" Because of his nerves, he not only had gray hair but also two white spots on his head. He tried many remedies, but nothing seemed to help."
He listened. It was his friend from university, and he was working at the monastery. Each day began with a morning prayer and a meal in the trapeza and ended with a prayer. Every Sunday, he confessed and took Communion. During his confession, an old priest gave him this advice: "Put some holy water from the wonderworking spring on your spots." My dad rebelled "What nonsense!" Still rebellious, he put his entire head in the spring. To his surprise, the spots healed, and he no longer had a single grey hair.
If it takes a miracle to bring someone to their senses, God will be sure to send it. My father probably needed it. He stayed at the monastery in Serpukhov for seven years and then worked for another eight at Saint Elisabeth Convent. He spent fifteen years at monasteries altogether."
Nun Minodora
By Svetlana Kirsanova
The photos are from the personal archive of Nun Minodora
Source: 7 Dney Newspaper, 7dney.by
