We have long wanted to introduce you to the dedicated souls serving in our monastery's workshops. Today, we are delighted to continue the series, ‘Sacred Obedience’, with a glimpse into our sewing workshop.
This was the first of the Convent's workshops, born from the sisters' need for white vestments to wear when visiting the sick. Initially, they began sewing them at home. Today, the sewing workshop has grown into one of the largest in the monastery, divided into three distinct divisions: one for sewing church vestments, another for baptismal and wedding sets, drapings, and towels, and a third dedicated to embroidery.
Nun Tamara (Romanenko), head of the workshop, shares her insights on her obedience, exploring its spiritual significance, along with its challenges and joys.
"When I was put in charge of the ‘Vestments department’ of the Convent's sewing workshop, I found myself there day and night. Whether I was sleeping or working became indistinguishable, as even in my dreams I was solving problems related to the workshop. The overwhelming sense of responsibility consumed me, making it impossible to detach from the workshop activities. Over time, the work became more tranquil, and the workshop relocated from the monastery to a new building.
My love for sewing existed long before I joined the monastery. While still in school, I began training as a seamstress and made my own clothes.
I came to St Elisabeth Monastery in 2006 and was immediately assigned obedience in the sewing workshop. Initially, my responsibilities included sewing vestments for the sisters. I also sewed altar cloths and analogion towels. Before joining St Elisabeth Monastery, I was a nun at the Holy Annunciation Nunnery in Slonim, where I sewed mantles, women's undercassocks, and habits. So, I soon transitioned to sewing mantles and crosses for vestments, all by hand.
At one point, I was put in charge of the bakery, and a year and a half later, I was appointed as the assistant to Nun Anfisa (Ostapchuk), who was the senior sister in the sewing workshop at that time."
"My parents died early, leaving six children in the family. My younger brother Sergei was still a minor, and I was the only one who could take custody of him. Faced with a choice between placing him in an orphanage or taking responsibility myself, I, as a nun, felt conflicted. Despite my monastic calling, I couldn't abandon my brother. I went to Bishop Gury (Apalko) with various proposals on how I could stay at the monastery with Sergei. However, the Bishop, citing previous regrettable experiences, did not give his blessing.
Nun Vasilissa (Sidorovich), a fellow student from the theological school, knew of my situation and mentioned it to Father Andrey Lemeshonk, the confessor of St Elisabeth Convent. Father Andrey responded, ‘Let her come.’ He blessed me to register for guardianship, and on Christmas Day, Sergei and I arrived at the monastery. Sergei attended school and lived in the men's farmstead, where several children were staying at the time. I visited him every weekend. After two years, I was able to transfer custody to another sister, and Sergei returned home.
I see God's hand in my move to St Elisabeth Convent, and I believe Sergei's situation was part of His Providence.
When I left the monastery in Slonim, I thought it was temporary. I didn't intend to change monasteries. The move was painful, and it took me a long time to adapt to the new surroundings. Besides my monastic duties, I had to do homework with Sergei, attend school meetings, and cope with his worsening behaviour.
A couple of months after my brother's departure, I had to decide whether to stay or leave. I felt torn: by that time, I already felt at home at St Elisabeth's, and my sisters had become close. Yet, I had left Slonim temporarily and felt a responsibility to return.
I called my former confessor, the present Metropolitan Benjamin (Tupeko), who offered wise words for which I am deeply grateful: ‘You know, think carefully. Whatever was in your monastery when you left, you won't find it anymore.’ Indeed, after my departure, changes had taken place in my old monastery, with the abbess and some sisters moving to a mission and forming a separate community. Reassured by Vladyka's words, I decided to stay at St Elisabeth's for good."
"My grandfather was a priest, and although my parents were not church-going, I was drawn to the church from childhood. Once my younger sister went on holiday to our grandmother's house, where she attended church and Sunday school. When she returned and shared her experience, I started attending Sunday school on my own, and from the seventh grade onward, I spent every weekend at church. This was my desire, not influenced by anyone else.
The whole school knew I went to church, and although they teased me a bit, I didn't mind. I was always honest, even if it hurt me. When major church feasts fell in the middle of the week, I would skip school to attend church. My parents accepted my independence calmly.
Now I understand and feel that my ancestors pray for me. I believe it's not just my grandfather; for example, his parents were always in church. Grandpa had five children, but among all his descendants, I am the only one who came to church. I think this is my grandfather's pain for us. We pray for our ancestors, and if they have the daring, they pray for us.
After school, I faced a choice: medical or theological school. I went to Rechitsa to apply to medical school, but I wasn't accepted. On the eve of the biology exam, I dreamt of my examination card. I studied the questions in my dream and actually drew that card in the exam. I wrote down all the answers, but while waiting for my turn, I crossed them out and corrected them. Everything I had corrected turned out to be wrong.
I saw this as God's Providence. Had I succeeded, my life might have turned out very differently. But God directed me toward a spiritual path. I worked at a school for a year before entering the Minsk Theological Seminary in Zhirovichi to become a choir regent. After that, I attended the Slonim Theological School. At that time, I couldn't live without church: if I missed a weekend service, I would eagerly rush to church the next weekend. It was during my studies in Slonim that I decided to enter the monastery.
I didn't always dream of being a nun; I also considered marriage. While studying in Slonim, I felt a sense of uncertainty and inner conflict: marriage or monasticism? At that time, Elder Schema-Archimandrite Mitrofan (Ilyin) in Zhirovichi and Schema-Hegumenness Euphrosyne (Maksimchuk) in Polotsk were still alive. I sought their guidance, and they said that monasticism was closer to my heart. Wherever I went, people would tell me: ‘Marry the Psalter’ (laughs). After much hesitation, when I decided to join the monastery, I felt peace and ease inside. I believe this decision was from God.
For me, sewing is a blessed labour. Even the Mother of God was engaged in needlework; She embroidered and sewed the chiton of the Saviour.
In the workshop, sewing church products connects you to the divine service, making you a part of it.
I remember the moment when we embroidered the Shroud of the Lord. I needed to take it from the backstitching room to the shop for sewing. I carried it with such reverence, like the greatest jewel. It was an amazing feeling, even though it was not yet finished or consecrated.
Now, I manage all the departments of the sewing workshop. Of course, there is more responsibility now. I occasionally participate in sewing, cutting, and selecting materials, but I am mainly involved in organizational issues - ensuring everything is sewn on time, as we have many orders. Previously, the production term for products was a month; now it is one and a half to two months due to growing demand.
Our embroidered vestments are distinct from those embroidered in other workshops. While the church fabrics are the same, our embroidery style is unique. We strive to preserve Russian and Byzantine traditions. There are also differences in the cut, such as different shoulder braces and treatments for cuffs, clasps, and pockets.
The geography of our orders is vast, including America, Australia, and recently, Ukraine. This speaks to the quality of our products. However, defects are inevitable. We address them individually. If we make a serious mistake and the customer doesn't want to accept the order, we re-sew the product. If only partial changes are needed and the customer is otherwise satisfied, we make those changes."
Every morning in our workshop starts with prayer. Although we have three divisions, there is a sense of unity as all departments gather for this shared moment of prayer.
Individual prayer is always an option, but collective prayer reinforces our unity. It's like a broom - while each straw can break easily when separated, together they form an unbreakable tool. Similarly, we sail together on the same ship, striving to move in the right direction.
Joint prayer also fosters a spirit of obedience. The sisters see each other daily, becoming closer and able to communicate more freely.
Once a month, on Thursdays, we attend a service together. Participation in the service is voluntary, but prayer is obligatory.
Sometimes our employees begin attending church after working at the workshop for a while. Initially, they may resist participating in prayer or wearing a headscarf. Of course, hiring someone who is not yet churched is a risk because they may not accept our rules or feel comfortable. However, we take this risk, hoping the workshop will serve as a stepping stone for them to find their faith.
When hiring, the first criterion is professionalism. Our workshop products are quite different from those in the secular market, as almost nothing is made of brocade. Therefore, a person must be skilled in their craft to quickly adapt to the specifics of church sewing.
I believe that God guides this process.
Sometimes a good professional starts working here, but their work and relationships do not flourish. Eventually, they might say, "I'm sorry, I can't do it." Recently, a girl with expertise in design and technology joined us. She came to us by some miracle at a time when we desperately needed someone like her. Despite having her own business, she wanted to be a simple seamstress because, as she said, she had "had enough" of running her own enterprise. She insisted she did not want to be in charge. It's surprising because such skilled individuals usually have high expectations.
There are people who seem to join us by chance, yet they fit in and become an integral part of our community, even more so than those who initially seemed better suited. This is why I have no doubt that people are brought here by the Lord. I never imagined I would be in charge. When I was told I would be leading the workshop, I was apprehensive, but I trusted that it was necessary and from God.
We have an assistant foreman who guides the sisters in various aspects of the sewing process. If she is not in the workshop, the seamstresses often take the initiative to help and teach new members. This voluntary responsiveness is heartening.
In total, about 70 people work in the workshop. I feel responsible for them, both professionally and spiritually. In a team, as in a family, there are good times and moments of discord, but harmony is always restored. If conflicts arise, I talk to the sisters and work to reconcile them.
Our workers are dedicated to their obedience. For example, when our Bishop Philaret (Vakhromeev) reposed, the diocese ordered various items for his burial. When the sisters learned who these items were for, they sewed them free of charge, for the glory of God. Similarly, when monastics request repairs, the sisters often oblige, despite the workshop's heavy workload. This is their way of serving their neighbor.
The most joyful aspect of my obedience is the connection to the divine service and the knowledge that through our work, we serve people.
Prepared by Olga Demidyuk
Photos by Maxim Chernogolov
