The Black Madonna, the Częstochowa Womb Bosca, the Mother of God of Częstochowa or, as she is called in the troparion, the "Invincible Victory" - this miraculous icon is revered equally by Catholics and Orthodox. According to legend, the evangelist Luke wrote it in Jerusalem on a board from the table at which the Holy Family gathered. During the times of persecution of the early Christians, they hid the icon in caves, where they hid themselves, putting their lives in mortal danger. Saint Helen, who received the Cross of Christ on a trip to holy places two and a half centuries later, received this icon as a gift and brought it to Constantinople, where she installed the icon in the chapel in the royal palace. There the holy face stood for five centuries. Subsequently, at the end of the 13th century, with great honors, the image was transported to Rus' by the cousin of Alexander Nevsky, Prince Przemyslsky, Kholmsky, Galician and Volynsky - Lev Danilovich. The shrine was already famous for great miracles.
After the lands of the western part of Ukraine were ceded to Poland, Prince Vladislav of Opolsky turned to the miraculous icon for help during the siege of Belz Castle by the Tatars. The prince took the image to the wall of the castle and a thick unknown cloud descended on the Tatars. Those, frightened, were forced to retreat.
In a dream, Vladislav saw the image of the Mother of God, who asked him to transfer the icon to the vicinity of Częstochowa and place it on Jasnaya Gora. Following the instructions of the Virgin Mary, the prince took the icon to the place indicated to him from above in 1382. Since then and to this day, the Czestochowa Icon of the Mother of God has been located there.
Scientists express different opinions about the origin of the icon and its age. Some experts even claim that the icon has been rewritten, and there is no original layer left at all: thus, this is a copy, not the original. The very fact of updating the icon in the Middle Ages no one denies; a detailed description of this process has been preserved in a special book of the Pauline monastery. From there, doubts are drawn: during the restoration, the tempera paint could not lie on the one with which the icon was painted. Due to failures, the previous layer had to be removed. But all doubts are dispelled by the fact that the centuries-old series of miracles coming from the icon has not been interrupted even once. The removal of a layer of paint was not so significant compared to the actions of the Hussites who attacked the monastery in the Middle Ages. They broke up the monastery and began to take out of it all the valuables, including the Mother of God of Częstochowa. However, the wagon with the loot did not budge. The horses stood up as if rooted to the spot. And then one of the invaders, realizing that this was a miracle performed by the icon, threw it to the ground and struck at it with a saber. The punishment was not long in coming. The villain and his associates fell dead. Since then, two deep cuts have been visible on the face of the Virgin. They were left in memory of the miracle and as a warning to those who try to repeat the actions of the robbers.
Inexhaustible stream
The monastery on Yasnaya Gora, in its significance for Poland, can probably be compared with the Trinity-Sergius Lavra, the greatest Orthodox church in Russia. So great is the flow of believers seeking a miracle from the Mother of God of Częszczow, and so great is the number of those who receive this miracle. Therefore, pilgrimage trips, and sometimes even hiking through the whole of Poland to Jasna Góra, is a tradition revered in Poland. "Matko Bosko Częstochowsko!" - can be heard all over Poland, regardless of gender and age. The name of Our Lady of Czestochowa is on everyone's lips.
In 1991, thousands of Catholics and Orthodox from the USSR came here to see John Paul II. This became one of the symbols of the fall of the Iron Curtain.
The Czestochowa icon attracts not only Catholics and Orthodox, but also representatives of other confessions. Pauline monks are not at all surprised. This has been happening for a long time. People get what they ask from the Mother of God, and the path to her is always open to everyone. There are cases when a convinced atheist, drug addict, thief and libertine embarked on the path of faith when he saw an icon. It is known that once one such person came with friends for a completely different reason - just to take a walk and have fun. Someone suggested "just go see". They arrived just in time for the traditional solemn ceremony of opening the icon for the faithful to see. And at the moment when the young man saw the image of the Mother of God, he could not hold back his tears. He cried. After the ceremony, he, with fear, but still went to confession, and when he left, he called his mother and asked for forgiveness for all the grief that he had caused her with his behavior (before that, the woman even wanted to leave home because of her son's antisocial behavior!) This guy is now a normal person. Theft changed to work, drugs disappeared by themselves.
Miracles
There are many such miracles. People write them down in a special book dedicated to the deeds of the miraculous icon. The book, which has been replenished for 6 centuries, contains thousands of testimonies. The entry in it is made under the kiss of the cross and is a testimony before God and people.
Here are just a few examples of miracles:
One young couple was unsuccessfully treated for infertility in various medical institutions in Poland. But they could not conceive a child. The doctors said there was no hope. Seeing their suffering, their grandmother advised them to visit the Częstochowa Icon. What was the surprise of the doctors when a woman came for examination, having several weeks of pregnancy. Zuzya was born on January 4, 2012, and her great-grandmother wrote about this story in a book.
“The Mother of God often supports families, she has earned the title of Queen of Families,” says Father Melheor Krulik, a Pauline monk. For many years he has been in charge of maintaining the aforementioned book of miracles.
2010 On March 7, an entry by Evelina Cieslar appeared in the book. American doctors gave a woman a maximum of two weeks to live after her body, eaten by the disease, stopped accepting food and even water. She was in a state of critical exhaustion, but neither her boyfriend Barek Mahnik nor her friends left her and continued to pray, although hope was fading.
- “I am an ordinary person and a girl far from exalted, but there, in America, when the priest actually came to my last confession, I suddenly heard a voice that said: “Now don’t be afraid, child, everything will work out!” For some reason, I decided that this was the voice of Our Lady of Yasnogurskaya and She was calling me to her,” the monk retells the story of the girl. The girl was urgently sent to Poland. Before the icon of the Mother of God there was a complete cure. There are relevant survey materials confirming this. And a year later, on May 5, 2011, Evelina arrived with her husband and with their child under her heart, just to witness this incident.
One of the most famous cases is already 35 years old. Yanina Lyakh, then a 29-year-old mother of two children, has been unable to move around without the help of crutches for the past 5 years. She was assigned the 1st group of disability with the right of guardianship over her. More than 60 pages of a medical report confirmed the deplorable state of Panya Yanina. After many years of examination, she was given a terrible diagnosis - multiple sclerosis, which threatened the woman with blindness and complete paralysis. My husband got drunk and left home. The woman despaired, she in a prayer to the Mother of God of Czestochowa asked for death for herself, so as not to torment the children, so that the Mother of God would take care of them. In a dream, the Virgin Mary told her to come to Yasnaya Guru on January 28, 1979. Yanina rode, as usual, with crutches, moving her legs with difficulty. Approaching the Czestochowa icon, she suddenly felt that she was standing. I tried to take a step, and it worked... Pani Yanina's crutches remained in the monastery among other evidence of healings left at different times. Three different doctors examined Pani Jadwiga. Their surprise knew no bounds. Five times after that she went on a pilgrimage on foot from Warsaw to Jasna Guru. She was here this year - January 28 ...
Melkheor Krulik emphasizes that it is interesting that it is not the Yasnaya Gora itself, as a place of prayer, that works miracles, but the icon itself. After all, a lot of evidence was brought by people from all over the world. People with faith turned to the Mother of God of Czestochowa and things happened to them that can only be explained by a miracle.
Polish queen
She is the queen of human souls. The stream of believers never dries up to Her. She is the patroness and intercessor of Poland. In the 17th century, the Swedish king Charles X Gustav, having captured almost all of Poland, was defeated near the Czestochowa Monastery on Jasna Gora. The help of the Queen of Heaven raised the morale of the Poles and they were able to defeat the Swedes and drive them out of the country in 1656. King Jan Casimir, upon his return to Lviv, published a manifesto, according to which he handed over Poland to the patronage of the Mother of God, calling Her Częstochowa image "Polish Queen". The heroic defense of the Częstochowa Monastery and how this defense was seen by the Swedes besieging the monastery, we find in Henryk Sienkiewicz in his work "The Flood". The steadfastness and faith of the defenders of the monastery demoralized the enemy.
One can write endlessly about the miraculous icon of the Mother of God of Częstochowa. It is impossible to list all the miracles, people who can tell about their personal miracle, revealed to them through prayers to the Czestochowa icon, you will also find an infinite number all over the world. And not just because she is called the Queen of Poland. She really is, living in the hearts of millions of Poles and Christians around the world.
An excerpt from the work of Henryk Sienkiewicz "The Flood":
« The next afternoon, the roar of the cannons again drowned out all other voices. The trenches were immediately shrouded in smoke, the earth trembled; as before, heavy cannonballs flew on the roof of the church, and bombs, and grenades, and torches framed from pipes that poured streams of molten lead, and torches without a rim, and ropes, and tow. Never before has the roar been so incessant, never before has such a flurry of fire and iron fallen upon the monastery; but among the Swedish guns there was not that cooler, which alone could crush the wall and make breaches for the attack.
And the defenders were already so accustomed to fire, each of them knew so well what he had to do, that the defense, even without a team, went on as usual. They responded to fire with fire, to the cannonball - with a cannonball, they only aimed better, because they were calm.
In the evening, Miller went out to see, in the last rays of the setting sun, what this assault had brought, and his gaze was fixed on the tower, calmly drawn in the blue of the sky.
- This monastery will stand until the end of time! he exclaimed in astonishment.
- Amen! Zbrozhek replied calmly.»
Prayers before the Czestochowa Icon of the Mother of God
Since the Czestochowa icon is revered by Christians in both the Catholic and Orthodox churches, we present several versions of the prayer before the icon of the Mother of God of Czestochowa. In the Orthodox canon, in addition to prayer, there are also troparion and introparion (in - another troparion). Catholic prayers to the Matka Boska of Częstochowa are presented in Polish and translated into Russian.
Orthodox tradition
Troparion, tone 4
Invincible Victory, / to the Lady of Częstochowa, / of the ancient self-viewer of us, / of the future salvation of the Guardian, / by repentance make us new to the coming Tsar.
Yin Tropar
To your icon, the Most Pure Lady, who have fallen into poverty with faith, by Your intercession, get rid of the evil, but like the Mother of Christ God, free us from cruel circumstances, temporary and eternal, let us call Thee: rejoice in the Lady, Częstochowa praise!
Prayer of the Mother of God before the image of Her "Czestochowa"
O All-Merciful Lady, the Queen of the Mother of God, chosen from all generations and blessed by all generations, heavenly and earthly! Look graciously at these people standing before Your holy icon, earnestly praying to You, and do Your intercession and intercession with Your Son and our God, so that no one will depart from this place of hope of his skinny and put to shame in his hope; but may everyone receive from You everything according to the good desire of their heart, according to their need and need, for the salvation of the soul and for the health of the body. Most of all, protect the autumn with Your protection, Merciful Mother, the Most Pious future Sovereign Emperor of ours and his entire reigning house; drive away from Him by Thy prayers every enemy and adversary, affirm his life in peace and silence, and we all live a quiet and silent life in every good, piety and purity; keep His kingdom in the hedgehog to be to him the Kingdom of Christ; direct His ways and advice, may righteousness and the multitude of the world shine in His days, may his heart and those who are in His power rejoice, like the heart of a father rejoicing over his children; but on those who resist and are deceitful in their hearts, they ate awe before His face, so that they would not come to their senses with fear and stop from their wickedness and opposition, doing His will, as before God, from the soul and good conscience. Moth, Merciful Lady, the most heavenly God, may she always keep her holy church, strengthen our Orthodox bishops with her highest blessing, protect the world and the saints of her church who are whole, healthy, honest, long-acting and the right of those who rule the word of their truth grants, from all the same visible and invisible Enemies with all Orthodox Christians will graciously deliver and in Orthodoxy and firm faith until the end of the ages, uncompromisingly and invariably preserve. Look down with mercy, O All-Petered One, and with contempt; Thy merciful intercession to our entire kingdom of All Russia, our reigning cities, this city and this holy temple, - and pour out Your rich mercy on me, Thou art the all-powerful Helper and Intercessor of all of us. Bow to the prayers of all Thy servants who flow here to this holy icon of Thy, hear the sighs and voices, by which Thy servants pray in this holy temple. But if both a non-believer and a foreigner, walking and passing here, pray, hear, loving the Lady, and do this philanthropy and mercifully, even to help him and to salvation. Teach your hardened and scattered hearts in our countries to the path of truth. Having fallen away from the pious faith, convert and again count the saints of Your Orthodox Catholic Church. In the families of all people and in our brethren, protect and observe the world, affirm brotherhood and humility in the young, support old age, instruct adolescence, be wise, orphans and widows intercede, comfort and protect those who are oppressed and in sorrow, raise babies, heal the sick, captives free, protecting us from all evil with your goodness and comfort with your merciful visit and all those who benefit us. Grant, O Good One, the fruitful land, the goodness of the air, and all, even for our benefit, timely and useful gifts, by your all-powerful intercession before the All-Holy Life-Giving Trinity, together with Her holy chosen saints Cyril and Methodius. Before departed fathers and mothers, our brothers and sisters, and all from ancient years who fell to Your holy icon, this rest of the villages of the saints, in a place of light, in a green place, in a place of rest, and where there is sorrow and sighing. When our departure from this life and the transmigration to eternal life comes in time, appear to us, Most Blessed Virgin, and grant the Christian death of our belly painless, shameless, peaceful and I will partake of the Holy Mysteries, and in the future we will be honored with all, together with all the saints, endless blissful life in the kingdom of your beloved Son, the Lord and our God Jesus Christ, to Him be due glory, honor and power, with His Beginningless Father and His Most Holy and Good and Life-giving Spirit, now and ever and forever and ever, amen.
Catholic tradition
O najwspanialsza królowo nieba i ziemi
Najświętsza Maryjo Częstochowska!
Oto ja niegodny sługa Twój, staje przed Tobą;
wznosząc błagalnie ręce do Ciebie
i z głębi serca mego wołam: O Matko najlitościwsza!
Ratuj mnie, bo tylko w Tobie moja nadzieja;
jeżeli Ty mnie nie wysłuchasz, do kogóż pójdę?
Wiem, droga Matko,
że serce Twoje pełne litości wzruszy się moim błaganiem
i wysłucha mnie w mojej potrzebie,
gdyż wszechmoc Boska w Twoim ręku spoczywa,
ktorej Swego upodobania.
A wic Maryjo!
Błagam Cię powstań i użyj Swej potężnej mocy,
rozpraszając wszystkie cierpienia moje,
wlewając błogi balsam do mej zbolałej duszy.
O najszlachetniejsza Pocieszycielko wszystkich strapionych;
a więc i moja szczególna Opiekunko.
Wprawdzie czuję to dobrze w głębi duszy,
że dla grzechów moich niegodzien jestem,
abyś mi miłosierdzie świadczyła,
lecz blagam Cię, o droga Matko!
Nie patrz na mnie przez owe grzechy moje,
ale spojrzyj przez zaslugi najmilszego Syna Twego
i przez Jego Najświętszą krew,
którą przelał za mnie na haniebnym krzyżu;
pomnij o najmilsza Matko, na te cierpienia,
jakich Sarna doznałaś, stojąc pod krzyżem
i na współumarła patrząc na śmierć drogiego Syna Twego.
A zatem, przez pamięć na to wszystko, o Matko!
Nie odmów mej pokornej prośbie, ale ją łaskawie wysłuchaj,
a będąc przez Ciebie pocieszonym,
wdzięcznym sercem wielbić Cię będę aż do śmierci.
Amen.
Translation:
O Most Excellent Queen of Heaven and Earth, Most Holy Mary of Czestochowa!
Here am I, Your unworthy servant, I resort to You; raising my begging hands to You and from the depths of my heart I cry out: Oh, most merciful Mother! Save me, for in You is my only hope! If You do not listen, to whom will I go?
I know, dear Mother, that Your heart, full of mercy, will be touched by my prayer and hearken to me in my need, for the omnipotence of God rests in Your hand - the essence of His good will.
Therefore, Mary!
I beg you, come down and use your mighty power, let all my passions part, let the balm pour into my aching soul.
O most worthy Comforter of the suffering of all, and therefore my guardianship is special.
In truth, I feel in the depths of my soul that for my sins I am not worthy of Your mercy, but I beg you, dear Mother!
Do not look at me through my sins, only through the merits of Your beloved Son, through His Most Holy Blood, which shed for me on the Cross, remembering, dear Mother, Your passions, which You accepted at the crucifixion and died with Him, stroking the death of the dear Son yours.
And now, through the memory of all this, O Mother! Do not refuse my humble request, but listen graciously, and being comforted by You, with a grateful heart I will praise You right up to my death.
Amen!
-------
Matko Boska Częstochowska, Zwycięska Królowo Polski!
Stajemy przed Tobą Matko nasza, ktora patrzysz od sześciu
wiekow z Cudownego Obrazu na Jasnej Górze w głębię serc
i dusz naszych. Ty z miłością pochylasz się nad polską ziemią.
Jesteś dla Narodu naszego niepojętym Znakiem Laski Boga,
przecennym darem Ojca niebieskiego. Dana jako pomoc ku obronie
Narodu naszego, trwasz wiernie i zwycięsko pośród nas.
Obecna w tajemnicy Chrystusa i Kościoła wyjednujesz nam moce
Boże przez długie wieki.
Matko Boża Czestochowska! Przenajświętsza Królowo Polski!
Spójrz na nas, Twoje grzeszne dzieci, i wysłuchaj naszych prośb.
Ty, ktora z miłością pochylasz się nad polską ziemią,
czuwaj nad nami przez Twój jasnogórski obraz.
Ty, ktora niezmiennie wskazujesz na Syna Twego, Jezusa Chrystusa,
chroń nas od ateizmu i wzmacniaj nasz Kościół.
Ty, ktora jesteś dla nas Bramą Niebios, trwaj przy nas wiecznie,
oddalając wojny, niegodziwości i wszelkie zło tego świata.
Ty, ktora wstawiasz się za nami u Boga Ojca, broń naszych rodzin,
by świadczyły o miłości i dobru.
Piękna Czarna Madonno z Jasnej Gory! Zanosimy do Ciebie
nasze prośby, chyląc czoło w uwielbieniu.
Chwała Ci, Zwycięska Pani, po wsze czasy. Amen
Translation:
Mother of God of Czestochowa, Victorious Queen of Poland!
We resort to You, our Mother, we have six centuries from the Miraculous Image on the Clear Guzha, looking into the depths of our hearts and souls. You bow with love over the Polish land. For our people You are the incomprehensible Sign of God's mercy, the most valuable gift of the Heavenly Father. It was sent down as help in protecting our people, remaining truly and victoriously among us. Existing in the mystery of Christ and the Church, you implore us for the strength of the Lord for many centuries.
Matko Boska Czestochowa! Holy Queen of Poland!
Look at us, Your sinful children, and listen to our requests.
You, who bow down with love over the Polish land,
watch over us through Your Yasnogorsk image.
Thou who invariably points to Thy Son,
keep us from atheism and strengthen our Church.
You, who are the Gates of Heaven for us, be with us forever,
putting aside wars, hardships and all the evil of this world.
You, who intercede for us before God the Father, protect our families,
to testify of love and kindness.
Beautiful Black Madonna from Yasnaya Gora! We bring you our requests, bowing our heads in reverence.
Praise be to Thee, Victorious Pani, forever and ever. Amen!
Panno święta, Matko Boża Częstochowska!
Oto do stóp Twoich upadam, pod opiekę się Twoją uciekam,
przyjmij mnie, błagam Cię i osłoń płaszczem swej dobroci.
Czuję, żem nie godzien (na) Twych względow,
żem wskutek grzechów moich bardzo się oddalił (a) od Ciebie,
proszę Cię przez Krew najdroższą, ktorą za mnie wylał Syn Twój
Jezus Chrystus, nie odtrącaj mnie od siebie.
Ponawiam przed Tobą wszystkie dobre postanowienia,
które uczyniłem (am) w życiu moim, wsparty (a) pomocą Twoją przyrzekam,
że w nich wytrwam aż do śmierci. Racz przyjąć, Panno święta,
ten akt oddania się mego Tobie i wyjednaj mi u Syna Twego,
Jezusa Chrystusa, wiarę żywą, przywiązanie niewzruszone do świętego
katolickiego Kościoła, nadzieję mocną, miłość wielką, szlachetną i stateczną.
O Maryjo Częstochowska, od lat przeszło 600 w tym Obrazie cudami słynąca,
proszę Cię pokornie, ażebym czcząc Twój cudowny wizerunek,
godzien(a) był(a) zasłużyć na oglądanie Ciebie w krainie niebios,
o Laskawa i miłosierna Pani.
Bądź zawsze Matką moją, o Maryjo Częstochowska,
jak ja pragnę być Twoim dzieckiem. Amen!
Translation:
Holy Virgin, Mother of God of Czestochowa!
Behold, I fall at Your feet, I resort to Your care,
accept me, I pray Thee, and cover me with the cloak of Thy kindness.
I feel that I am not worthy of Your looks,
that, as a result of my sins, I have become very far away from You,
I ask You, through the most precious Blood, shed for me by Your Son - Jesus Christ, do not reject me.
I renew before You all my decrees, which I accepted in my life, approved by your help, I swear that I will fulfill right up to my death.
Accept, Holy Virgin, this act of giving yourself to You and ask Your Son Jesus Christ for living faith, unshakable attachment to the holy Church, strong hope, great, noble and indestructible love.
Oh, Mary of Czestochowa, for more than 600 years in this Image of Yours, reputed to be miracles,
I humbly pray to You, so that, honoring Your holy Image, it is fit (th) to behold You in the edge of heaven, O kindest merciful Pani.
Be always my Mother, O Maria of Czestochowa,
for I long to be your child! Amen!
(The translation of prayers from Polish is not canonical and is provided for informational purposes only)
Mentions of the Mother of God of Czestochowa remained in my memory from childhood, scattered across the pages of books, like rowan berries on dull snow - as if specifically to give some special color. "- Pater Noster ... Jesus Christ ... Bosco Ostrabramska's womb, Częstochowa... - Jozefa mutters. It is she who calls on all heavenly intercessors to help me, continuing to sprinkle me with tears.
I borrowed Alexandra Brushtein's book "Beyond the Distance," about the "pre-revolutionary life" of an intelligent family, from the district library. A good book.” - Pan Yesus! This is news especially for Zbigniew and Kasper! Just adjusted to sleep, so on you! grumbled Staszek, who had already laid his head on the table.
And three of his comrades listened to the boatswain, the fifth through the tenth, and then from them both sleep and hops were blown away by the wind. Kasper's heart almost jumped out of his chest.
- Mother of the bozk of Częstochowa! he shouted, rushing to Pan Konopka. - Vuek, Vuek, you know Mikolaj Copernicus! Why were you silent? Zbyshek, how do you like it!
However, Zbigniew did not like it.” This is a certain (quite worthy) Zinaida Shishova, from the story “The Adventures of Kasper Bernat in Poland and other countries”. As if it is necessary - if Poland - then it is impossible without the Matka bozka Czestochowa. And not only among domestic writers. Here Günther Grass writes about his hero: “Early widowed, he made a pilgrimage to Czestochowa, and Matka Boska of Czestochowa ordered him to recognize her as the future Queen of Poland. Since then, Vincent did nothing but rummage through outlandish books, looking for confirmation of the rights of the Mother of God to the Polish throne in every phrase, and entrusted his sister with all the chores around the yard and field. ”True, these are all foreigners - in relation to Polish literature. In it, I did not immediately find any mention of the Mother of God of Czestochowa. Well, I'm sure I didn't search well. All in all, why am I? Moreover, it was impossible to refuse the opportunity to look at this symbol of Catholic Poland. And the opportunity presented itself when our tourist bus rolled from the Belarusian Brest to the Czech Olomouc. For seven euros per person, regardless of religion, the bus was ready to change the route a little and call in Częstochowa. More precisely, not to Częstochowa itself, but to the Yasnogorsk Monastery, where the icon is kept.
The monastery began to be created on Yasnaya Gora from the 14th century, when Prince Vladislav Opolchik brought the famous icon there, before that she managed to visit Rus', Constantinople, and, according to legend, Jerusalem. According to the same legend, it was written by the Evangelist Luke on the reverse side of the countertop. A table from the same house where Jesus Christ was brought up and grew up. According to scientists, the icon was painted in Byzantium in the 9th-10th centuries. Its fate can be traced reliably from the 13th century, when the Galician-Volyn prince Leo placed it in the city of Belz (now the territory of Ukraine). It so happened that during the territorial dismemberment of Poland, the icon began to be perceived in many ways as a symbol of national unity. State symbols adorn the gates of the basilica to this day.
The monastery was built over several centuries and represents a rather colorful collection of buildings in different styles. The most luxurious is the three-nave Cathedral of the Holy Cross and the Nativity of the Virgin. It looks especially impressive against the background of many other, as a rule, rather modest, churches in Poland (this eerie photo, taken in almost complete darkness, hardly gives an idea of the baroque luxury of decoration).
The icon itself is located in the relatively modest Chapel of the Mother of God. We did not try to take pictures of the icon itself, we took a few shots not far from the entrances to the chapel. Its walls are hung with gifts to the Mother of God. It is interesting that basically, as we understand, these are not individual offerings, but gifts from groups of pilgrims, from entire cities, from fellow soldiers.
There is even a gift from the Solidarity movement.
People prayed mostly kneeling on small stools. But closer to the icon, everyone was kneeling right on the floor. Then many will walk on their knees behind the altar, around the icon. There are many young people, not beardless youths, but, for example, young married couples with children.
The confessionals are still empty.
At the exit from the chapel, on the border of semi-darkness and bright daylight, the eye clings to the details of the design.
We go to the bus. The parking lot was reminiscent of the Formula 1 paddock on the day of the Grand Prix - in terms of the number of motor home buses and tourists. From the parking lot to the monastery itself, you walk along a path between two stone walls, here pilgrims and tourists disperse a little and you can walk more calmly. And here is how the pilgrims went to the monastery a hundred years ago: “The train arrived in Częstochowa early in the morning. It was a long way from the station to the monastery, which stood on a high green hill. Pilgrims - Polish peasants and peasant women - got out of the car. Among them were city dwellers in dusty bowlers; An old, corpulent priest and clerical boys in lace robes were waiting for the worshipers at the station. Immediately, near the station, a procession of pilgrims lined up on a dusty road. The priest blessed her and muttered a prayer into his nose. The crowd fell to their knees and crawled towards the monastery, singing psalms. The crowd crawled on their knees all the way to the monastery cathedral. A gray-haired woman with a white frenzied face was crawling ahead. She held a black wooden crucifix in her hands. The priest walked slowly and indifferently ahead of this crowd. It was hot, dusty, and sweat rolled down their faces. People breathed hoarsely, looking angrily at the lagging behind. I grabbed my grandmother's hand. - Why is this? I asked in a whisper. "Don't be afraid," my grandmother answered in Polish. - They are sinners. They want to beg for forgiveness from Pan God. This is recalled by Konstantin Paustovsky. He was brought to the monastery by his grandmother. Perhaps he was about the same age as these little girls in white dresses - we met them everywhere.
But the girls, as a rule, looked quite satisfied with life, dresses, a wonderful spring day and the upcoming meeting with Matka Boska. But Paustovsky did not like the monastery - he was frightened by the pilgrims lying on the floor and did not kiss the cardinal's cassock.
We didn't see any cardinals, but ordinary priests went about their business briskly, reflected in clean-washed Volkswagens.
Maybe the whole point is that Paustovsky felt like a stranger at this celebration of life? It was the holiday. “Grandmother ordered me not to speak Russian in the monastery. This scared me. I knew only a few words in Polish.
I got lost, got into a narrow passage between the walls. It was paved with cracked slabs. Plantain blossomed in the cracks. Cast-iron lanterns were screwed to the walls. They must not have been lit for a long time - in one lantern I saw a bird's nest.
We also felt like we didn't belong. Although the Russian speech here did not frighten anyone, and no one looked askance at us. There was a feeling that we "peeped" someone else's life a little - a feeling that is not there, for example, when you visit St. Peter's Basilica in Rome. But from this peeping glance, we learned a little more about Poland. So I recommend - if possible, stop by Częstochowa.
Our Lady of Czestochowa in salary 
I can't help but quote from my favorite:
"From Vilna we went to Warsaw. I only remember the monument to Copernicus and the caverns, where my grandmother treated me to "pshevrutsonaya kava" - "upside down coffee": it contained more milk than coffee. She treated me to cakes - meringues that melted in my mouth with oily cold sweetness. We were served fidgety girls in ruffled aprons. From Warsaw, we went with my grandmother to Częstochowa, to the famous Catholic monastery of Jasna Góra, where the "wonder-working" icon of the Mother of God was kept. For the first time, I encountered religious fanaticism. It shocked me and Since then, the fear of fanaticism and aversion to it entered my mind, and for a long time I could not get rid of this fear.
.....
The Częstochowa Monastery turned out to be a medieval castle. Rusty Swedish cannonballs protruded from its walls. Green water rotted in the moats of the fortress. Thick trees rustled on the ramparts. Drawbridges on iron chains were lowered. We drove in a cab over such a bridge into the tangle of monastery courtyards, passages, nooks and crannies. A monk servant, girded with a rope, led us to the monastery hotel. We were given a cold vaulted room. The unchanging crucifix hung on the wall. Someone hung a wreath of paper flowers on the nailed brass feet of Christ. The monk asked the grandmother if she was suffering from illnesses requiring healing.
Grandmother was very suspicious and immediately complained of pain in her heart. The monk took out a handful of small silver hearts, hands, heads, and even toy babies from the pocket of his brown cassock and dumped them on the table in a heap. “There are hearts,” he said, “for five roubles, ten and twenty. They are already sanctified. It remains only to hang them with a prayer on the icon of the Mother of God; Grandmother bought a small plump heart for ten rubles. Grandmother said that at night we would go to the church for a solemn service, gave me tea with stale Warsaw buns and lay down to rest. She fell asleep. I looked out the low window. A monk passed by in a shiny, burnt-out cassock. Then two Polish peasants sat down in the shade near the wall, took out gray bread and garlic from bundles and began to eat. They had blue eyes and strong teeth. I got bored and cautiously walked out into the street.
My grandmother told me not to speak Russian in the monastery. This scared me. I knew only a few words in Polish. I got lost, got into a narrow passage between the walls. It was paved with cracked slabs. Plantain blossomed in the cracks. Cast-iron lanterns were screwed to the walls. They must not have been lit for a long time - in one lantern I saw a bird's nest. The narrow gate in the wall was ajar. I looked into her. An apple orchard, all sunspotted, descended the hillside. I entered carefully. The garden blossomed. Yellowed petals often fell. Liquid, but melodic ringing came from the church bell tower. A young Polish peasant woman was sitting on the grass under an old apple tree, breastfeeding her child. The child winced and wheezed. Next to the woman stood a pale, swollen peasant lad in a new felt hat. A blue satin ribbon was sewn onto the hat and a peacock feather was tucked into it. The boy looked at his feet with round eyes and did not move. A short, bald monk with garden shears in his hand sat down on a stump opposite the woman.
He carefully looked at me and said: - Hex benji praised Jesus Christ! - Forever and ever! - I answered the way my grandmother taught me. My heart stopped from fear. The monk turned away and again began to listen to the woman. Strands of white hair fell over her face. She threw them away with a gentle hand and plaintively said: - As the fifth month went to my son, Mikhas shot the stork. He brought it to our hut. I cried and said: "What have you done, fool! You know that for every stork killed, God takes one child from people. Why did you shoot him, Mikhas?" The boy in the felt hat was still looking at the ground indifferently. “And from that day on,” the peasant woman continued, “our son turned blue and the disease began to choke him by the throat. Will the mother of God help him? The monk looked evasively to the side and did not answer. - Oh, tense note! - said the woman and began to scratch her throat with her hand. - Oh, tense note! she screamed and hugged the baby to her chest. The child rolled its eyes and wheezed. I remembered the toy silver babies that the servant in the convent's inn showed my grandmother. I felt sorry for this woman. I wanted to tell her to buy such an infant for twenty rubles and hang him from the Czestochowa icon. But I did not have enough Polish words to give such complex advice. Besides, I was afraid of the monk-gardener. I left the garden.
When I returned, my grandmother was still asleep. I lay down, without undressing, on a hard bunk and immediately fell asleep. Grandma woke me up in the middle of the night. I washed my face with cold water in a large faience basin. I was trembling with excitement. Hand-held lanterns floated past the windows, the shuffling of feet was heard, the bells rang back. “Today,” said the grandmother, “the cardinal, papal nuncio, will serve. With difficulty we reached the church in the dark. - Hold on to me! - said the grandmother in the unlit porch. We groped our way into the church. I didn't see anything. There was not a single candle, not a glimmer of light amidst the stuffy darkness, fettered by high church walls and filled with the breath of hundreds of people. This pitch-black darkness smelled sweetly of flowers. I felt the worn cast-iron floor under my foot, took a step and immediately stumbled upon something. - Stay calm! Grandmother said in a whisper. - People are lying on the floor. You will step on them. She began to read a prayer, and I waited, holding on to her elbow. I was scared. The people lying on the floor sighed softly. A mournful rustle spread all around. Suddenly, in this heavy darkness, the sobbing thunder of the organ resounded, shaking the walls. At the same moment, hundreds of candles flared up. I screamed, blinded and frightened. The large golden curtain covering the icon of the Mother of God of Częstochowa slowly began to move apart. Six old priests in lace robes knelt before the icon with their backs to the crowd, Their hands were raised to the sky. Only a thin cardinal in a purple cassock with a wide purple sash cinching his thin waist stood to his full height - also with his back to the worshipers - as if listening to the fading storm of the organ and the sobbing of the crowd. I have never seen such a theatrical and incomprehensible spectacle.
After the night service, my grandmother and I walked into a long arched corridor. It was getting light. Prayers knelt under the walls. Grandmother also knelt down and made me go down too. I was afraid to ask her what these crazy-eyed people were waiting for. A cardinal appeared at the end of the Corridor. He walked easily and swiftly. His purple cassock fluttered and brushed the face of the worshipers. They caught the edge of the cassock and kissed it passionately and humiliatingly. “Kiss the cassock,” my grandmother told me in a quick whisper. But I didn't listen. I turned pale with resentment and looked directly into the face of the cardinal. I must have had tears in my eyes. He stopped, put a dry little hand on my head for a moment, and said in Polish:
- The tears of a child are the best prayer to God ."
This is my favorite of the writers, whose books I can read from any place and in any direction - K. Paustovsky, also a Pole by origin.
About him, like other great Russian Poles - Griboyedov and Bunin, we will talk ahead.
EBJ, of course.
Akathist to the Czestochowa Icon of the Mother of God ("Invincible Victory")
The angelic cathedral in Heaven silently sings to Thee, Lady, and we are earthly, flowing to Your miraculous icon, written by St. Luke, crying out to Thee: Rejoice, Mother of the Light of the Infinite; Rejoice, Holy Spirit Holy Abode; Rejoice, bright grace of Knowledge; Rejoice, Angelic Forces Rejoicing; Rejoice, Kupino burning unrepentantly; Rejoice, O Ever-Seeing Lord of Forces; Rejoice, Fadeless Flower of incorruption; Rejoice, Image of Christ's Resurrection; Rejoice, Zealous Intercessor, deliver us from all evil and work a miracle of salvation.
In general, Poland is good. Correct, deeply religious citizens live there, who study the Law of God from the cradle. And even the repulsive Soviet government could not drive filthy atheism into the heads of the clairvoyant lords
Even the Soviet government could not eradicate the Law of God from Polish schools. Except for a couple of “hardcore” Stalinist years in the early 50s, in popular Poland, schoolchildren studied prayers, rituals and other Catholic things perfectly while their parents worked on the construction sites of socialism. So, after the collapse of the socialist camp, nothing needed to be restored, but in order to somehow mark the onset of complete religious freedom, the number of lessons of the Law of God was increased from one to two per week.
There are practically no non-Catholic religion classes anywhere. Even the children of Poland's largest religious minority, the Orthodox (a little over 1% of the population), still go to Catholic classes, where they periodically listen to stories about their heresy. Lessons of secular ethics exist in only 4.5% of Polish schools. They are chosen only by individual fanatical leftist parents. The rest believe that it is better not to turn your child into an outcast.
Moreover, the score for the Law of God goes to the certificate and is taken into account when calculating the average score. Getting a six (in Poland - a six-point system) in religion is much easier than in physics, so why not improve the statistics. And if you don’t go to the Law of God, then in the certificate in this line (“religion / ethics”) they will put a bold dash, which will immediately give out the graduate as an unreliable person and inclined to show off inappropriately. (Elephant ru)
Erased, the Soviet government, the Law of God from the school curriculum is not etched. But she didn’t make a commitment out of it either.
And then look, the year 1992 is complete democracy, there is no Soviet power, and complete religious freedom, and the claps do not want to mutter requests into God's ears. For this their noble gentry punish
News, No. 91, 1992
Hello, Maryo, caresses of the peln, Pan with Tobon,
Blogoslavonash You mendzy unwitting,
and the blessed sheep of Tfoy's life, Jesus.
Shventa Maryo, Matko Bozha, smarter for us gzheshny
teraz and in godzhine shmerchi ours. Amen.
Saved
In general, Poland is good. Correct, deeply religious citizens live there, who study the Law of God from the cradle. And even the repulsive Soviet government was unable to drive filthy atheism into the heads of the clairvoyant lords. Even the Soviet government was unable to eradicate the Law of God from Polish schools. ...
"/>The operation is progressing at lightning speed. It is unlikely that the Nazi army, which united the armies of its vassal states under its band of robbers, ever advanced at such a pace and with such results as the troops of the front achieved in the second half of January 1945. After the artillery offensive, the enemy never recovered. Two tank armies burst into the gaps and, leaving behind everything that survived from the German forces, rushed forward. One, heading northwest, towards the city of Czestochowa, the other - north, bypassing the large city of Kielce, in the forests under which I once hopelessly tried to make contacts with the Polish partisans.
Moscow has already given victorious salutes for Kielce and for Częstochowa, but I shamefully missed the liberation of these cities, not mentioning these circumstances in my newspaper in a single line.
Missed for good reasons. However, it is unlikely that General Galaktionov will reckon with them; he usually did not forgive his correspondents for such punctures. And, oddly enough, the Mother of God of Czestochowa, or, as the Poles call her, the mother of the boss of Czestochowa, is to blame for this puncture of mine.
Our tank formations, having freed Częstochowa, rushed on. Rifle units, of course, do not keep up with them. An unfilled void has formed between the two layers of the advancing troops, and it is in this gap that the remnants of the defeated German units are moving, retreating. And I must say, they move in an organized manner, though avoiding highways and large settlements. In short, what was formed in the military language is called "puff cake".
And then the scouts brought news of an insidious provocation, conceived by the Nazi command and carried out by some SS unit. In Częstochowa there is the famous Yasnogursky Monastery, and for many centuries it has kept the icon of the Mother of God, revered by all Catholics of the world, which is considered miraculous. The Poles even proudly say that this is the second most important shrine after the shrine of St. Peter, kept in the Roman Cathedral.
And then the scouts reported that the SS mined the monastery church, laying under it a huge explosive charge with a remote fuse. Such a calculation. When the city is occupied by the Red Army, the explosion will destroy the church and bury the icon. Guilt will fall on our parts, and the curse of the entire numerous Catholic world will turn against them.
Marshal Konev, who began his military service as a commissar, appreciated all the consequences of such a provocation.
An experienced officer, just the same Lieutenant Colonel Nikolaev, who had just returned from the Slovak partisans, received an order to fly to Częstochowa. To land. Contact commandant's office. Mobilize any sapper unit passing by, post guards at the monastery, let no one into the monastery except sappers, clear the mines of the church and maintain the strictest Order. I don’t know if Pravda will forgive me, but, taking advantage of my old friendship with Nikolaev, I begged him to take me on this flight.
The two of us were already trying to persuade the most experienced pilot from the communications squadron of the front headquarters to pick us both up. They persuaded me, and then, while the pilot and navigator were laying a new route for him to Częstochowa on the map, Nikolaev told me the sad news.
Jan Schwerma died in the mountains on a campaign. Finished off his tuberculosis. We all got wet there. The clothes are icy in the wind. At the very first stop we reached, in some loggers' hut, he threw off the wet, warmed himself by the fire and kept coughing hoarsely ... You know how he coughed: he would turn away, block his palms, all you could see was how his shoulders trembled ... However , continued to work, held a meeting of commanders with Osmolov, then did something else. He went to bed late and didn't get up in the morning. You could say he died on the move. They wanted to carry his body, but where? The roads are now cursed in the mountains, and you can’t call a plane - there are rocks all around ... They buried him there ...
I did not immediately recover from this news. This tall man with a long, thin face and a piercing gaze, with a thick blush that burned painfully on his temples and cheeks, immediately stood before his eyes.
This is a Communist with a capital letter.
And what about Osmolov, Egorov?
As always, in the works. They don’t have to be bored ... Osmolov, by the way, cried when Shverma was buried.
I tried to imagine this famous partisan leader crying - small, blond, blue-eyed, in his tall, trumpet-shaped hat, with mild humor in his eyes. It didn't work out. In appearance he was docile, with a quiet voice, but his eyes were always firm, as were the decisions he made and the commands he gave.
And there is some more difficult news for you: the village of Balazhu, the very one that sheltered you in the first place, was burned down by the Nazi punishers - a partisan village. All the way to the last house ... And the men who were caught in it were all shot. Even teenagers.
And old man Milan? The one who donated my boots?
I don't know... What I don't know, I don't know. A man from there, who caught up with us in the mountains, said that those who were in the cutting area still managed to escape ... But whether your Milan was among them, I can’t say ... Well, don’t cry, don’t cry - war.
But the bad news didn't end there.
Generals Galyan and Viest surrendered to the Germans, Nikolaev continued to tell. And they were both hanged. However, that was to be expected. Here it is, the gentleman's war that Viest was counting on. They didn’t even shoot him, but hanged him ... Galyan, by the way, is a pity. He was a sincere person and a good Slovak. Yes, and this London strategist is also, in his own way, of course, an honest soldier ...
Leaving me to think, Nikolaev hurried the pilot:
Simon, it's about time. Stop fiddling with the map. Bosca's uterus has been waiting for us. Get angry, spoil the weather, so circle then.
The two of us squeezed ourselves into the single-seat navigational seat, and the plane, after a little rumble on the ground, tore the skis off the wet, swollen snow with some difficulty. Soon we flew over the breach site. From above, to a rather great depth, it resembled a field on which some giant boars raged. The trees are decapitated, broken, split. Then the forest thicket went, and after about half an hour of flight we saw on the roads, broken through the greenery, troops moving westward in a strange gray-green uniform. And it was strange to see how, when our small car, which the Germans derisively called “caffemulle” - “coffee mill”, appeared, the soldiers ran off the roads, disguised themselves in the bushes. They didn't shoot at us. It was clearly one of the units that had been defeated on the Sandomierz bridgehead, which rolled back to the west following our tanks. Out of habit, Nikolaev marked the location of the unit on the map, although it was unlikely that he had a close opportunity to contact the headquarters from Czestochowa.
Of course, we did not catch up with the tankers. We only saw the tracks of their caterpillars all the time, they, these tracks, led us to Częstochowa. The Mother of God, apparently, was still angry with us for being late: the city was shrouded in a thaw fog. It was barely visible in the damp, stirring mist, and as we circled above it in search of a landing site, we suddenly saw the spire of the bell tower emerging from the mist to our right. The cross was even higher than we flew, We found a suitable platform behind the station. Sat down. They helped the pilot turn the plane around, spin the propeller, and then, shouldering backpacks, with machine guns in their hands, they moved into the city.
Indeed, behind the front line, in the land of the rebels, we felt calmer and more confident than in this already liberated city, in the rear of our tank army, towards which the retreating enemy groupings were moving. However, they got to the place, they found the commandant's office. The red flag fluttered over some massive building, similar to a warehouse, with thick walls, a meter thick, and narrow, iron-barred windows, in which there were two heavy machine guns, holding the square at gunpoint. The commandant - a young captain, a tanned Georgian - was in tank overalls, with two revolvers; one hung in front of him, and the other behind. It seemed that he got out of a car that had just been in battle - his face was so convulsively tense. He knew, of course, that enemy groups were approaching from the east, he knew and prepared to meet them. For this, he put machine guns in the embrasures, and neatly folded grenades inside the room in the corners of the room.
At first they didn't let us into the commandant's office. The commandant examined us for a long time through the glass of the door, then came out to us with an unbuttoned holster on his stomach. Only after carefully checking the documents and powers of Nikolaev, he became kinder, invited us to his office - a closet with a vaulted ceiling, where half of the room was occupied by a desk. The captain even apologized to us for his excessive caution.
Worse than surrounded, by golly. In the city, neither us nor them. It's like in the second act of Lyubov Yarovaya, and there will always be lovers of plunder in such circumstances. Here, I was informed, the Vlasovites appeared. in our form. They have a task from the Germans to rob, misbehave, rape, so that later everything can be blamed on the Red Army, that's why I poked around in your documents.
He was a clever man, this Georgian tanker, in the past a graduate student of one of the Tbilisi institutes. Fulfilling the order of the commander, he has already taken under the protection of the cultural values of this ancient city. He also guarded the icon of Our Lady of Czestochowa, posting a round-the-clock guard at the gates of the monastery. He got in touch with the abbot, who sent a courier monk to him.
How do you talk to him? In what language?
And in French. We both know French. But this is so, for chic. The older Poles, for the most part, know Russian. And this abbot is a cunning old man. It is beneficial for him to establish good relations with us ... Don't worry about language contacts, he has such a brother Sixtus among his peacocks, a deep old man. He is better in Russian than you and me, scratching, this old peacock.
Peacock? What does peacock mean?
And they call themselves that. They are in the order of St. Paul, so they call themselves peacocks. This Sixtus plays the piano and knows Russian literature well. Pushkin by heart with whole poems spat.
The commandant took your mission seriously, strengthened the security, went to the monastery with us, introduced us to the rector, a man of very respectable appearance and the most secular manners.
We are very lucky. A park of bridgemen passed through the city to the west that day. We contacted their commander, an engineer-lieutenant colonel. He gave us senior sergeant Korolkov to help us, in his words, "a sapper by the grace of God", a demining specialist. Korolkov, thin, with some kind of straw mustache, as if glued to his tanned face, without much difficulty found the place where the Germans had mined the altar, and intelligently arranged with shovels a whole team of peacocks, allocated to him by the rector father to help him. In a word, things got better, and the commandant gave a field telephone line to the cell assigned to you.
This most educated brother Sixt was seconded to us, who really spoke Russian as clearly and beautifully as the intellectuals of the last century used to say. It was an old man in his eighties. Tall, straight, with a face as if covered with parchment, on which, however, gray eyes, quick as mice, lived their own life. From under his cassock his thin legs stuck out in some kind of long clown's shoes. Probably in order to win our sympathy, he told us his very romantic story. At the beginning of the century, he was a teacher of Russian literature and language at the aristocratic women's gymnasium named after Empress Maria in Warsaw. Played the piano, sang. And then the devil pulled him to get carried away by a student of the senior class, a well-born lady of the count's rank. She answered him in kind. A scandal erupted. The young teacher was pushed out of the gymnasium with a bang. His beloved was sent to Paris, where they were urgently married to some impoverished French aristocrat. And the unlucky teacher became a monk and took the name Sixtus when he was tonsured. Why not a plot for Kalman's sentimental operetta?
I don't know if Brother Sixtus made this story up or if it actually happened, God knows. But one thing was certain; he was a Russophile, spoke Russian with elegance, and for our sake he even displayed his musical talents. In the small church of the monastery there was a harmonium. Accompanying himself, he sang to us in a pleasant voice first "Ave Maria", then "Varshavyanka" and finally ... "Dark Eyes".
Our mission is extremely complicated by the fact that in the refectory of the monastery are being treated ... German wounded. The brethren use them, heal them as far as they can. They tear their sheets and pillowcases for bandages. They pinch linen rags, making a dressing out of it, which is called lint. So, when we met the abbot, the first thing he asked us about was not to shoot these prisoners. At first we were surprised, then even offended: did the Russians ever shoot the wounded - both in the First World War and in this war?
No, no, gentlemen officers, we know how much evil the Germans have done to you, we know that this evil cannot be forgiven, that your blood, shed in the vastness of Russia, calls for revenge. But we implore you in the name of Christ, the almighty and mother of God; be merciful.
We were as merciful as possible. But since among the German wounded there were also walkers jumping on crutches, a sentry had to be placed at the door of the refectory as well.
Little by little, things improved. Having found exactly where the explosives were planted, Sergeant Korolkov established that these were aerial bombs and that there were a lot of them. Fearing that, in addition to the remote fuse, the German sappers had set mine traps, he decided to excavate in such a way as to approach the mines, so to speak, from the rear. Now the peacocks, tucking the skirts of their cassocks into their belts, are digging the earth with excellent zeal and dismantling the foundation, and Korolkov is sitting on a pile of earth, placing a plank under him, watching the work, and issuing commands that, oddly enough, the monks understand.
Get away, please, away from sin, - he said gloomily to Nikolaev and me. - Our business is this: we sleep the whole war with death under one overcoat. These brothers... - He pointed to his monastic assistants with a grin: - God helps them, but why should you risk it. And he, the bastard, just planted mines under the altar, under the very buttress, with the expectation of this icon.
Have you seen her?
Well, how not to see, the first thing I went to look, because of which I risk my head. Thin, by the way, this Mother of God. Some old one. In our village, in the church, it is even more beautifully painted, she-she.
Nikolaev and I looked at each other. The sapper's impression of the famous icon completely coincided with ours. The image of the Madonna, this embodiment of young pure beauty, inhabits all the churches of the Christian world. Among them, Czestochowa, in my opinion, is the most everyday - a tired, middle-aged woman with a dark, haggard face, clutching, as it seems, not her son, but her grandson. Plus a scar on his cheek. The icon is old. The riza on it is strikingly chased, and it, and everything around it, is strewn with diamonds and precious stones, sparkling in the twilight, from which the icon is highlighted by the yellow flicker of wax candles. But all this does not tell her charm. I just don’t understand what is the power that for many centuries has attracted hosts of pilgrims to it from almost all over the world. I confess that Nikolaev and I, former Komsomol members and, of course, atheists, who unexpectedly took part in the rescue of this religious relic, left the icon disappointed: as an object of art, it, in our opinion, is not, of course, a very competent conclusion, large had no price.
Sixtus must have been instructed by the Father Rector to patronize and please us in every possible way, and, probably, to watch over us. He relentlessly followed us, treated us to stories and music. And in the evening, after Nikolaev, having checked the progress of work and examined the posts, returned, we found food and drink on the table in my very comfortable cell in some intricate decanters - monastic tinctures from God knows what old years. They dined with taste, but touched the decanters with care. Noticing this, our guardian, in his own way, understood such modesty and, in order to show that the drink was not poisoned, famously slapped a pile from each decanter. They were sweet fragrant drinks, remotely reeking of blackcurrant, raspberry, mountain ash, but familiar smells were muffled by the aroma of unknown herbs.
The drinks were pretty strong. The Holy Father - his eyes shone, oily - loosened up.
You and I are intellectuals, - he suddenly declared, when Nikolaev left to check the progress of work and we were left alone. He obviously excluded my friend from this estate. - We are the elite. Salt of the earth, brothers in spirit. You are an atheist, right? You are all atheists... Don't you believe in God? Don't believe at all? Well, you know, in vain, you have greatly impoverished your world with this. But that's up to you. I dare not argue. I also don't believe in these wooden gods, in these fairground holy miracles. I’ve been in this monastery for forty years and still can’t get used to seeing how men and women, crossing themselves and whispering prayers, crawl on all fours to the icon. The spectacle is not for intellectuals. A burp of the Middle Ages... But the bosca's uterus. - He leaned towards me and, breathing the aroma of tinctures into my ear, whispered: - Oh, this is completely different. She didn't seem to you, did she?
The old man did not hear, could not hear our conversation with the sapper Korolkov, in his presence we did not talk about the icon at all. How did he figure it out?
No, why not, - I mumbled diplomatically. - I just don't understand icons.
I didn’t like it,” he stubbornly repeated, “I didn’t like it and couldn’t like it because you didn’t see her, because she didn’t want to show herself to you ...
How is it that you don't want to show up? asked Nikolaev suddenly, appearing quietly in the doorway and hearing the last words. He was straight from the street, melted snowflakes sparkled on his eyelashes. - How did it not look like that? Nikolaev insisted, and in his narrow brown eye, in the one that was narrower due to the shell shock, merry little devils jumped up and down. - She did not show herself to us, because we are atheists, right? How unfair of her. Religious fascists, who have "God with us" written on their belt buckles, wanted to destroy her, but she did nothing to them. The atheists, risking their lives, save her, but she, you see, does not want to show herself to them. Where is justice, holy father? On the contrary, we have the right to count on the most cordial reception from her... By the way, your evangelists had broader views than you, Father Sixtus. Jesus Christ, according to their legend, was discovered by foreign magi, probably atheists. After all, they were neither Jews nor, of course, Christians, for there were no Christians then. And then sorcery is the most godless profession. So it comes out according to your holy scripture?
Do you know holy scripture?
I know, - answered Nikolaev.
Brother Sixtus fidgeted in his chair and rose.
Sorry. I must speak to the Father Rector,” he said.
Sit. You have an abbot - the administrator is what you need. He has nothing to report. Your peacocks run to inform him every ten minutes... He is aware...
Brother Sixtus looked with visible surprise at the atheist, familiar with religious legends.
All the will of the Almighty, - he said not very confidently.
And the thirty-six aerial bombs planted under the altar, which your monks are now removing from under the cathedral, is that also at his will?
What, have you already dug up a mine charge?
Unearthed. Neutralized. Now your peacocks are pulling bombs from under the altar. - And, turning to me, Nikolaev explained: - There is already a whole stack of them, these bombs. If they exploded, there would be no bricks to collect, Wow, well done this old soldier. I wrote down his information.
So there won't be an explosion? - folding his dry hands on his chest, our interlocutor, looking at the cross standing in a niche in the wall, made a prayer. Then he tried to get up again. - No, no, I must report to the Father Rector about this right now. We must bring prayer. What is the name of this soldier of yours?
Konstantin. Pray for the servant of God Konstantin, - Nikolaev grinned. - Without him, no god would have helped you, and you would not have seen your church. We will present this Constantine to the order, and you pray to yourself, there will be no harm to him from this. Saving you, I acted according to the scripture: give your life for your friends ... Or do you Catholics not have this in scripture?
The last glass was clearly superfluous for the holy father. He somehow threw off his intellectuality, sat, sticking out his skinny legs in clown shoes from under his cassock, smiled good-naturedly and looked respectfully at us.
Sorry, miles sorry, gentlemen. I have an urgent physiological need.
He walked out unsteadily. Nikolaev did not take monastic liqueurs. He looked worried. Indeed, several tons of bombs with undischarged fuses lie near the church itself. There are wounded Germans in the hospital, and somewhere there the broken enemy units that we saw from the plane are walking through the forests and, perhaps, approaching the city. Communication only with the commandant's office. And no forces, except for those guys from the tank landing, which the commandant assigned to us.
What was he lying to you about? About some miracles? Cunning, by the way, old man. And in general, a sweetheart. So what is it about?
I told. And when Sixtus, apparently having done his "physiological need," returned to the table, Nikolaev, looking into his eyes, asked:
Well, holy father, tell me how your Mother of God can appear.
To our surprise, Sixtus readily stood up.
Let's go. Don't take your hats, you won't have to go across the yard.
But still we went through the courtyard, where, ruling over everything, the generous moon shone. Monks worked at the main temple. Having told the guard the password, we opened the door and entered the semi-darkness, illuminated by dozens of flickering candles, snatching out of the darkness the pedestal on which, sparkling with a precious salary, stood the famous icon.
Answer:
The division of prayer petitions in front of different miraculous icons of the Mother of God is a convention. According to the faith of the praying, the Lord can give him help in response to a prayer in front of ANY icon.
As for the Czestochowa Icon of the Mother of God, here are some materials about it.
The Czestochowa Icon of the Mother of God is one of the most revered shrines not only in Poland, but throughout the world. It is located in Jasna Góra in the city of Czestochowa. Every year, tens of thousands of people come to bow to the icon and ask for healing and deliverance from misfortune...
The Black Madonna, the Częstochowa Womb Bosca, the Mother of God of Częstochowa or, as she is called in the troparion, the "Invincible Victory" - this miraculous icon is revered equally by Catholics and Orthodox. According to legend, the evangelist Luke wrote it in Jerusalem on a board from the table at which the Holy Family gathered. During the times of persecution of the early Christians, they hid the icon in caves, where they hid themselves, putting their lives in mortal danger. Saint Helen, who received the Cross of Christ, when traveling to holy places two and a half centuries later, received this icon as a gift and brought it to Constantinople, where she installed the icon in the chapel in the royal palace. There the holy face stood for five centuries. Subsequently, at the end of the 13th century, with great honors, the image was transported to Rus' by the cousin of Alexander Nevsky, Prince Przemyslsky, Kholmsky, Galician and Volynsky - Lev Danilovich. The shrine was already famous for great miracles.
After the lands of the western part of Ukraine were ceded to Poland, Prince Vladislav of Opolsky turned to the miraculous icon for help during the siege of Belz Castle by the Tatars. The prince took the image to the wall of the castle and a thick unknown cloud descended on the Tatars. Those, frightened, were forced to retreat.
In a dream, Vladislav saw the image of the Mother of God, who asked him to transfer the icon to the vicinity of Częstochowa and place it on Jasnaya Gora. Following the instructions of the Virgin Mary, the prince took the icon to the place indicated to him from above in 1382. Since then and to this day, the Czestochowa Icon of the Mother of God has been located there.
Scientists express different opinions about the origin of the icon and its age. Some experts even claim that the icon has been rewritten, and there is no original layer left at all: thus, this is a copy, not the original. The very fact of updating the icon in the Middle Ages no one denies; a detailed description of this process has been preserved in a special book of the Pauline monastery. From there, doubts are drawn: during the restoration, the tempera paint could not lie on the one with which the icon was painted. Due to failures, the previous layer had to be removed. But all doubts are dispelled by the fact that the centuries-old series of miracles coming from the icon has not been interrupted even once. The removal of a layer of paint was not so significant compared to the actions of the Hussites who attacked the monastery in the Middle Ages. They broke up the monastery and began to take out of it all the valuables, including the Mother of God of Częstochowa. However, the wagon with the loot did not budge. The horses stood up as if rooted to the spot. And then one of the invaders, realizing that this was a miracle performed by the icon, threw it to the ground and struck at it with a saber. The punishment was not long in coming. The villain and his associates fell dead. Since then, two deep cuts have been visible on the face of the Virgin. They were left in memory of the miracle and as a warning to those who try to repeat the actions of the robbers.
Inexhaustible stream
The monastery on Yasnaya Gora, in its significance for Poland, can probably be compared with the Trinity-Sergius Lavra, the greatest Orthodox church in Russia. So great is the flow of believers seeking a miracle from the Mother of God of Częszczow, and so great is the number of those who receive this miracle. Therefore, pilgrimage trips, and sometimes even hiking through the whole of Poland to Jasna Góra, is a tradition revered in Poland. "MatkoBoskoCzęstochowsko!" - can be heard all over Poland, regardless of gender and age. The name of Our Lady of Czestochowa is on everyone's lips.
In 1991, thousands of Catholics and Orthodox from the USSR came here to see John Paul II. This became one of the symbols of the fall of the Iron Curtain.
The Czestochowa icon attracts not only Catholics and Orthodox, but also representatives of other confessions. Pauline monks are not at all surprised. This has been happening for a long time. People get what they ask from the Mother of God, and the path to her is always open to everyone. There are cases when a convinced atheist, drug addict, thief and libertine embarked on the path of faith when he saw an icon. It is known that once one such person came with friends for a completely different reason - just to take a walk and have fun. Someone suggested "just go see". They arrived just in time for the traditional solemn ceremony of opening the icon for the faithful to see. And at the moment when the young man saw the image of the Mother of God, he could not hold back his tears. He cried. After the ceremony, he, with fear, but still went to confession, and when he left, he called his mother and asked for forgiveness for all the grief that he had caused her with his behavior (before that, the woman even wanted to leave home because of her son's antisocial behavior!) This guy is now a normal person. Theft changed to work, drugs disappeared by themselves.
Miracles
There are many such miracles. People write them down in a special book dedicated to the deeds of the miraculous icon. The book, which has been replenished for 6 centuries, contains thousands of testimonies. The entry in it is made under the kiss of the cross and is a testimony before God and people.
Here are just a few examples of miracles:
One young couple was unsuccessfully treated for infertility in various medical institutions in Poland. But they could not conceive a child. The doctors said there was no hope. Seeing their suffering, their grandmother advised them to visit the Częstochowa Icon. What was the surprise of the doctors when a woman came for examination, having several weeks of pregnancy. Zuzya was born on January 4, 2012, and her great-grandmother wrote about this story in a book.
“The Mother of God often supports families, she has earned the title of the Queen of Families,” says Father Melcheor Krulik, a Pauline monk. For many years he has been in charge of maintaining the aforementioned book of miracles.
2010 On March 7, an entry by Evelina Cieslar appeared in the book. American doctors gave a woman a maximum of two weeks to live after her body, eaten by the disease, stopped accepting food and even water. She was in a state of critical exhaustion, but neither her boyfriend Barek Mahnik nor her friends left her and continued to pray, although hope was fading.
- “I am an ordinary person and a girl far from exalted, but there, in America, when the priest actually came to my last confession, I suddenly heard a voice that said: “Now don’t be afraid, child, everything will work out!” For some reason, I decided that this was the voice of Our Lady of Yasnogurskaya and She was calling me to her,” the monk retells the story of the girl. The girl was urgently sent to Poland. Before the icon of the Mother of God there was a complete cure. There are relevant survey materials confirming this. And a year later, on May 5, 2011, Evelina arrived with her husband and with their child under her heart, just to witness this incident.
One of the most famous cases is already 35 years old. Yanina Lyakh, then a 29-year-old mother of two children, has been unable to move around without the help of crutches for the past 5 years. She was assigned the 1st group of disability with the right of guardianship over her. More than 60 pages of a medical report confirmed the deplorable state of Panya Yanina. After many years of examination, she was given a terrible diagnosis - multiple sclerosis, which threatened the woman with blindness and complete paralysis. My husband got drunk and left home. The woman despaired, she in a prayer to the Mother of God of Czestochowa asked for death for herself, so as not to torment the children, so that the Mother of God would take care of them. In a dream, the Virgin Mary told her to come to Yasnaya Guru on January 28, 1979. Yanina rode, as usual, with crutches, moving her legs with difficulty. Approaching the Czestochowa icon, she suddenly felt that she was standing. I tried to take a step, and it worked... Pani Yanina's crutches remained in the monastery among other evidence of healings left at different times. Three different doctors examined Pani Jadwiga. Their surprise knew no bounds. Five times after that she went on a pilgrimage on foot from Warsaw to Jasna Guru. She was here this year - January 28 ...
Melkheor Krulik emphasizes that it is interesting that it is not the Yasnaya Gora itself, as a place of prayer, that works miracles, but the icon itself. After all, a lot of evidence was brought by people from all over the world. People with faith turned to the Mother of God of Czestochowa and things happened to them that can only be explained by a miracle.
