Twenty-five years in the life of a monastery... While it may seem brief in the span of history, it is a significant chapter in the life of each person who has embraced the monastic path. We invited the sisters who were there at the very beginning of our Convent to look back on this journey, sharing their memories, reflections, and the experiences that have shaped them over this quarter-century.
Twenty-five years ago, it felt easier; now, the challenges are greater. I see more clearly the things within myself that need to be fought and corrected. Parting with sin is difficult, and often, there is a reluctance to let it go.
Honestly, I don’t like dwelling on what it was like 25 years ago. Back then, it seemed as if I could grow wings and emulate the saints. But it wasn’t that simple. I recently came across a phrase: ‘If you’ve grown wings behind your back, don’t crow about it.’ That’s something I’d like to learn — to remain humble. Just as 25 years ago, the only thing I can truly claim is my weaknesses. I can only hope that perhaps one day, I will finally begin to do something about them.
Twenty-five years ago, we asked our spiritual father, ‘The monastery was built from scratch; we don’t have any succession, so who should we look to as an example?’ Father Andrey told us to follow the example of the saints. Today, we need to turn to our heavenly helpers with even greater zeal because our own strength is waning while sin remains persistent.
I wish for all of us the strength to draw inspiration not only from the saints but also from those around us. Our monastery now has 123 residents, with about 70 of them being nuns. From every nun, monk, novice, or worker, there is something valuable to learn. It’s always worthwhile to look closely at others and discover something new.
The Athonite elders speak of three stages in the spiritual life. The first stage is marked by an outpouring of grace upon a monastic. Then, during the second stage, this grace is withdrawn in a noticeable way. Finally, in the third stage, grace returns in its perfect form, manifesting as prayer for the entire world.
If we apply this to the monastery as a community of monastics, I believe that those of us who joined the monastery together twenty-five years ago will one day reach the threshold of that final stage, where the Kingdom of Heaven will quietly emerge among us.
Lately, I find myself realising more and more how blessed I am. It’s truly amazing how this miracle occurred, bringing us all together in one place to live side by side for such a long time. There was nothing here initially, no indication that a monastery would ever arise in this place. Many who came had little to no experience with the Church. Some of us had only been attending church for a year or two. What was this extraordinary event? It’s beyond comprehension!
Honestly, I feel like I’m still drawing from what I received during those early years. It’s like a reserve of divine energy that sustains you, even when you have nothing else to rely on. We had an incredible experience then — the experience of living together as one spiritual family.
It’s hard to grasp how something like this could happen in the modern world, but at that time, each of us had a sincere faith and a genuine gift of complete obedience. When it came to crossing the threshold into monastic life, we trusted our confessor so deeply that there was no question of doing anything differently. We knew that to act otherwise would be to distance ourselves from God. Although that initial fervour may fade, it provides the energy to “stay afloat” for a very long time. It was real life, the best life possible. That initial experience of unity in prayer and monastic living, where everyone was inspired to pursue this oneness, still strengthens me today, when patience and faithfulness are so crucial.
The most important thing I wish to return to today is the ability to see each new person not just as a name in a commemoration book but to truly care for one another, to know each sister personally. Through this, we can pray for all people, striving to become more like Christ, which is our true calling.
I wish everyone hope and joy.
It is a miracle that a monastery emerged in the heart of Minsk. In a world filled with so much vanity, the sisters suddenly found God, left everything behind, and followed Him...
Recently, I was asked to give a brief interview about how it all began, and how we experienced those early days. But the truth is, I barely remember how the churches here were built. During that time, my focus was elsewhere — on myself and the new life I had embraced in following God.
Everything required adjustment, even the habit. It was difficult for me to breathe in it, like wearing a spacesuit. It was especially hard to walk through the streets... What if someone I knew saw me? But God, in His patience, guided me through it all.
Then came the challenge of building relationships with the sisters. We lived four or five to a cell. While most of the sisters were younger, I was 37, with an already established way of life and thinking, which was hard to relinquish. But over time, year by year, God expanded my perspective: first, I came to understand myself, then others.
When a church is built, the first task is to lay the bricks. This phase takes time, and only afterward is the church adorned with its interior paintings. Our lives follow a similar pattern: in the beginning, we focused on the external building. Now, as it seems to me, we are in a time of inner creation — both for the nuns and the lay sisters — because we are one family, a unified whole.
I believe that many sisters have constructed the inner sanctuary of their souls with great care. In different situations, they manage to see the other person rather than themselves, to remain silent, and to avoid causing harm. All of this is like painting the interior of your own spiritual church. I think that in the next twenty years, we will see further growth both in the Convent and within each sister’s inner life. May the Lord strengthen us through each other's prayers.
I am grateful to God for allowing me to be part of the Sisterhood before entering the Monastery, which in fact emerged from the Sisterhood. It’s like attending kindergarten before going to school. The memories of kindergarten are brighter, more joyful, whereas school is, above all, about labour.
The time in the Sisterhood was filled with immense grace. Those memories continue to support me during difficult moments. And now, I thank God for the “white” sisters and for the unity we share. Thank you, sisters, for being there for me!
I joined the Convent in March 2001, a little later than the first sisters. I never imagined that I would choose the monastic path, and when the Lord called me, it was difficult to accept it at first. I had many doubts, yet I realised that while one can refuse an ordinary bridegroom, in the case of becoming “a bride of Christ,” perhaps one cannot.
One evening, as I sat contemplating how I should live my life, I was too afraid even to write about it in my diary. One of the brothers, Gennady (now Hieromonk Theodore, a resident of the Holy Trinity Sergius Lavra), seeing my doubts, decided to help me. When I came to confession, my spiritual father said: “Do you really want to enter a monastery? Gennady wrote me a letter here…” At that moment, I felt that if I refused, my anxiety would return. So, I nodded affirmatively. Father Andrey then told me to go to the sewing workshop and ask them to prepare everything necessary in one day, because the Bishop was coming soon. I spent that night in the icon-painting room, next to a small icon of the Mother of God, and by 4 a.m., I was already vested as a novice. That same evening, the Bishop arrived and gave me a blessing.
In the beginning, God’s grace was very tangible — there was an inner joy in knowing that my whole day was now devoted to God. When I reread my notes from that time (letters and small articles I wrote for our magazine “The Meeting”), I see the gentle light that the Lord was giving me. Outwardly, not much changed for me, as I had been in the sisterhood for a long time, and even my obedience remained the same: working at the icon-painting studio and serving the children at a boarding home.
I am an artist by education, and a sensitive person; outward impressions mean a lot to me. I still remember that when I went to the sewing room to order a vestment, the snow near the workshop was sparkling. Those little stars are still shining for me. I remember the first night at the monastery well. There were not many cells then, and we lived four to a room, but despite this, only silence and eternity remained in my memory — that night, I was alone with God...
I am currently finishing the chronicle of our Convent, which I began writing in 2002 with the blessing of our spiritual father. Much has changed since then, and it’s challenging to match the style in which the text was originally written.
My inner state and vision of life have also evolved: everything feels more real now, and I can see both my own and others’ weaknesses more clearly. Yet, through this experience, I have also come to understand how beautiful God is and how He holds everything together with His Love. Perhaps this new state of awareness is even better. As I tried to resume working on the chronicle over the past few days, I felt the reverse process happening — the chronicle itself began to work on me, restoring my previous joyful state. Normally, I focus on my own concerns — like the children at the boarding home or the murals that need finishing — but now, thanks to the chronicle, I’ve started to come out of my shell a little. I realised that we are living a large and beautiful life, and this revelation has inspired me. I felt a sense of unity and that there is a part of me in everything we are creating.
Now, I find myself contemplating the outer and inner life. The outer life seems like a thin layer of soil, while the inner life is like the vast depths of the earth, and they are incomparable. This inner life encompasses everything: beauty, unity, the Kingdom of God. I wish for myself and for others to seek God and to feel His beauty.
I have always seen the sisters of the Convent as a reliable outpost, an unbreakable wall. Fr. Andrey sometimes criticises them, but to me, they are all saints.
Although I’ve never lived in the monastery, I’ve been around it from the very beginning, since its foundation. I’ve seen the sisters change over the years. It all felt like a fairy tale.
I remember when a few of us sat around discussing the project of the future church, thinking about who could help us with the construction and how we could make it happen. At the time, many people called Father Andrey a utopian. The very idea of building a church in Novinki seemed unbelievable, yet there was an absolute confidence in the air that everything would work out. A fairy tale that began to materialise... Someone among the monastics rightly said: it was the experience of a miracle happening before our eyes.
The monastery was truly built by God. Different people are drawn here. I was once approached by a Protestant who told me how much he loves our monastery. Even though he doesn’t attend church, he comes here, sits on a bench, and feels at peace. I feel the same way — I don’t want to go anywhere else. Everything I need is here. This is truly holy ground.
Today, the fairy tale continues. The fact that we have been together for so many years and still have our regular meetings — this is a miracle. At these meetings, one can truly feel the presence of Christ. Even when I had small children and would attend the meetings despite my exhaustion, sometimes falling asleep, I still felt rewarded just by being here, together with everyone else. It’s the amazing work of God.
It’s a real miracle that we are all together here, in our monastery. Misunderstandings may happen, but we will endure. We are all called to holiness, and on this path, we must outgrow ourselves and reach our goal.
