ON FRAGILITY OF LIFE
(a sermon after panikhida)
I would like to read for you a note that moved me. Panikhida for the repose of the deceased servants of God: Stepan, Matrona, Pavel, Foma, Parfyon, Vindey, Irina, Filka, Lyuba, Kuzma, Anna. I remember it so well: when I was a very young man I caught the time when these names of people born before the revolution were on everyone’s lips. I was a boy, but I remember at my granny’s village there was a grampy Filka, both Vindey and Parfyon were there too. Yes, we are the witnesses of the time when those people lived. Just look, some people still use this specific transcription of the names. Grampy Filka and Parfyon are still present in somebody’s life. I tell you about this, and even though I’m not so old, I caught those times, but it is all gone. Those people born before the revolution, half a century ago were called like that, but it will never happen again. We pray for our grandmas, parents who are gone and will never come back again. Everything is gone. There is only one way there, never back. Young ladies, where are our young ladies? You will all grow old soon, believe me, trust me, before you know it. In this respect, when we have the sense of time, all momentary pleasures are no match for eternity, just waste of time and fuss. Yes, Sarah, it must seem you haven’t lived yet. Only yesterday you walked holding on to your mother’s hand, and now you are old, very very old.