The Sanctuary of the Holy Spirit

A couple of days ago, an icon of Salus Populi Romani arrived at our parish; I recommend reading about it online, as I do not wish to recount the usual wiki information in this text. It travels through all the cities of Russia, aiming to "settle" in a Moscow church by Christmas.

I have always been indifferent to icons: in the years of godlessness, they evoked a sense of absurdity in me, and now — when the Lord found me — a sense of meaninglessness. However, in this case, considering the convergence of many circumstances and coincidences, I felt a sense of interest and anticipation for the meeting, too much symbolism involved. I awaited the arrival of this icon.

And so it arrived in Ufa. My wife and I went to meet it at the Saturday Mass. Throughout the service, I gazed at the icon from behind the backs of the parishioners seated in front of me; my attention was drawn to the lines on the garments of Mary and Christ in the icon, how gracefully and "meaningfully" they flowed across the image.

I felt a powerful desire to approach and examine them more closely. This was an absolutely inexplicable and strong attraction; I did not immediately recognise that the desire to "study the lines on the painting" was an attempt of the ego-consciousness to rationalise and logically explain such an illogical desire for my nature.

As soon as the Mass concluded, I wasted no time and immediately went to the icon, kneeling before it (it happened naturally; I had merely planned to get closer — my legs seemed to bend of their own accord). At first, I tried to adhere to my rationality, carefully studying the lines, the symmetries, the painting... when suddenly something "clicked" and I was swept into the realisation of what this icon truly represented and that I, so small and insignificant, was now kneeling directly before it. In that moment, I distinctly felt Her presence; I heard in my heart Her voice, Her invitation to converse... although it would be more accurate to say — Her invitation to be.

The bustling world around me, all the noises, conversations, sighs, footsteps — all of it seemed to transform into a drowsy play of imagination somewhere in the backyard of my enchanted mind. Here and now, there existed only the silence and the tenderness of Her hands holding the Infant. And there was also a nagging feeling of remorse and an unwarranted resentment towards myself.

Suddenly, into this silence, a noise began to seep through — the scratch of a pen writing on paper from behind; someone was writing something. I felt a chill. As if something unpleasant was scratching at the door of my soul with thoughts of my inadequacy. I lifted my eyes to Mary.

Not long before the icon's arrival in Ufa, I had come across Her image online, and in it, the gaze of the Virgin was undoubtedly directed somewhere away; even our father-superior had previously emphasised in a sermon that Mary's gaze was turned away from the viewer. During the Mass, I had long stared at the icon, trying to understand where She was looking, but here...

I looked into Mary's eyes, and Her gaze was fixed directly on me. At once tender and firm, it penetrated the very depths of my sinful and confused soul. Not to the side, not upwards, but straight at me. This was not a play of light or some kind of "metaphor".

I knelt before Her, entranced, afraid to move even a millimetre, and could not take my eyes off Her. I felt tears welling up in my eyes, and a gently pulsating warmth spread slowly across my chest; a warmth that made it both heavy and infinitely light to breathe, sending waves of goosebumps throughout my body. It is difficult to find words to describe this feeling; it can only be lived.

As I struggled with the encroaching tears, images began to surface in my mind from the past year and a half since I first met Her. I saw the day I first entered this monastery, led by an unknown female figure; She brought me during the Ignatian Exercises; only later did I learn that this day was Her birthday. I recalled all the countless and generous miracles She had bestowed upon me in ordinary life, striving to convince me of the love of our Lord.

I was not ready to understand and accept God's love for me, even as I began to take my first steps towards faith — my resentment and anger towards Him for all the troubles and injustices pierced every cell of my soul, clouding my mind and feelings... I could not find the way to Him myself.

It is often said that sinners turn to Saint Mary when, for various reasons, they feel ashamed to approach the Lord directly. But for me, it is still touching and astonishing that the Lord Himself reached out to me through His Most Pure Mother.

I knelt and recalled in detail how She gently led me to Jesus, how patiently She answered all my questions and comforted my grievances, how She tenderly enveloped me in Her infinite love, how She filled my hardened soul with Her sunny laughter and pure joy. I saw all my visualisations during the Spiritual Exercises: how long we conversed in the night field, how I complained to Her of my loneliness on the shore of the blue ocean, how I asked Her for help and intercession in the cold, gloomy storms, how She stood beside the King calling me and smiled maternally as I responded to that call, how She warned me on days when I was close to stumbling and straying from the Path, and how She helped me return.

She supported me, She guided me, She listened attentively, She responded. She directed and corrected. She gifted me so many bright people, and She also intertwined my fate with Her beautiful daughter, my wife. She never left me, even on those dark, rainy days when I turned away from Her. Every inch of my steps towards God, and every breath of God in response — Mary was always there. She taught me to recognise His love for me. And especially tightly, She held my hand along with Jesus during this long, challenging, yet very beautiful and bright year.

And now, I stand before Her icon right now, in such closeness, in such inner silence and infinite grace, looking directly into Her eyes, which look and see me.

At one moment, feelings began to overflow within me so intensely that I stood up and left the chapel. I wandered confusedly into the corridor, then turned towards the restroom, not understanding why. With trembling hands, I turned on the tap and washed my face, then returned to the corridor, poured myself some water, and approached the window, staring out into the sunny winter day.

Soon my wife emerged from the chapel, and we were supposed to go to the car. But we could not leave. Without any agreement, without realising or answering the question "why", we returned to the chapel once more, and now I sat a little further from the icon on a bench. I lay on my arm and tried to halt the overwhelming waves of reverence from the realisation of an entire Universe of feelings in my heart, which was far too small for such love. The mere thought of needing to leave filled me with sorrow, but in that moment of realisation — once again, She touched my soul, and a new absolute peace descended upon me.

I experienced for the first time an inexplicable and firm certainty that everything is right, and everything is just beginning. I do not need to stay, for all of this is already with me forever.

Even now, as I write these lines, it seems to me that it is not I who am writing them, or that this is some kind of acting performance, playing a role, because all of this does not fit into the me that has been formed over thirty-three years until this day. I cannot explain anything from today rationally, but most importantly — I do not want to. Let it be madness, let it be self-suggestion, let it be an obsession — I am ready to accept any epithet with a calm smile, for all of this holds no significance compared to the peace and grace that this meeting has settled within me. As if I have peered into the Kingdom of God.

Thank you, Father, for once again gifting me so much light and tenderness.)

P.S. I was so taken aback for the first few hours that when my wife and I were driving home after the service, I seriously asked: why does everyone say that She looks away, when in the icon, She looks directly at you? To which my wife replied that no, She really does look away. I checked later. It’s true :)