There was a young man in Soviet era Leningrad (St Petersburg) who attended church every Sunday. He knew that he was being watched by the KGB; the priest at the church was always under surveillance to prevent him from teaching anyone else about Christ and the Orthodox Faith. The priest was constantly harrased by the KGB, with such tactics as phone calls and confrontations, warning him that teaching and training a priest was a crime. Such was the bravery of this young man and his priest that it didn't stop them.
The young man attended all of the services faithfully; he sang in the choir every week. It seemed, however, that the only people attending the services regularly were the old women of the area, which the KGB did not deem as threatening to the state as a young man of spiritual conviction. At times, this would depress him; other times, he felt blessed because of it, knowing the persecution the faith was undergoing.
There was one service every year, however, that the otherwise empty church would be overflowing; Pascha, which is known as Easter in the West. Then, it seemed that either the KGB gave permission to attend or that people just didn't worry about it. No matter, for in a story reminiscent of the birth of our Savior, there was literally no room.
This service would attract all sorts of people from around the area; not only did the faithful old ladies attend, but so did the mobsters, the drug dealers and addicts, the prostitutes, the gamblers, the thieves, and in general, those who most people would look at in a manner that was suspicious at best, and overly judgmental by nature.
These people would come in and not necessarily disrupt the sacred service, but they certainly would be loud and perhaps irreverent. Most certainly the majority were drunk as the entered the church, and they brought the boisterousness of the party into church with them.
This made the young man a bit envious. While he regretted not his decision to be faithful, he did not understand how such people could only come to service once a year, and even then make it into something he did not think it should be: a continuation of a party on the street. He wasn't as angry at them as he was hurt. How could they disrespect that which he was working so hard to keep available to them, even at the risk of imprisonment? It seemed that they were mocking not only him, but God also.
He decided to confess. He knew his feelings were hurting only him; those who reveled in the manner they did were not suffering from his pain whatsoever. As he told his priest about his feelings for all he was doing, all they both were risking, and how he felt their bravery was being mocked every Pascha, his priest gave him a loving lesson that he carries to this day.
His priest reminded him that those who go to church every week are already seeking Christ, and Christ is always with them for it. Sure, they will sin and fail, but it is much easier for those who walk so closely in the faith to be lifted by Christ and put back into the way of good. It is those very people; the thieves, prostitutes, mobsters, drug dealers and addicts, and gamblers and others that Christ came into the world to save. It's not that those who walk in the faith don't need Christ as much; those who do not simply need Him more sometimes. Christ will always be ready for those who need Him most, including those who may walk away, and for those who live the faith, Christ will be there also, but He also knows we are there for Him. We who walk in the faith have already seen; we have already experienced His mercy, and do so every week. We commemorate the Crucifixion and Resurrection every Sunday. We remember, and need such reminders less. We remember, and are blessed for it every Liturgy. It is those very people who walk away from Him that Christ died for. It is our job to remember that always and to remind others of that when necessary. It is those very people who only experience it the one time a year who need the joy of the Resurrection more on that day than the faithful. Sometimes, that one day is all they joy they have.
This young man understood. He went to seminary and studied and prayed. He became a priest, despite the best efforts of the KGB to prevent it. He is a most beloved priest, for I personally see the love that his parish has for him every week. They defend him with a passion reserved for those they love most. They come to his aid as much as he comes to theirs.
If only we in the West knew what he went through, perhaps we wouldn't take our worship so lightly.
Christ Is Risen!
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