At the end of the summer of 2004, our children Vika and Sergey, and his wife Olesya were returning home from a missionary trip and spent a couple of days in Moscow, waiting for their flight to Sacramento.
At the end of the day, on their way to the hotel, they went through one of the underpasses, that are quite common in the Russian capital. The underpass led to a subway station, so during evening rush hour it was extremely crowded. People were going home from work, moving in a continuous stream towards each other, street vendors were offering their simple goods, having laid them out along the walls of the tunnel, a group of street musicians were playing their guitars in the middle of the underpass, with hats laid out in front of them, waiting for monetary gratitude to be placed in them from kind strangers.
Down in the underpass, they saw a quiet, hunched over, poorly dressed old woman, standing by the wall with a small bouquet of flowers. Her flowers were in such a deplorable state, that nobody would probably have agreed to take them for free, let alone buy them. The appearance of this old lady attracted the attention of our kids, and having come up to her, Sergey asked how much her flowers cost. The old woman gave the price – 15 roubles. He counted out the money, took the flowers and handed them back to her, saying: “Ma’am, this is our present to you. You should go home, you’ve already been standing here long enough.”
The old woman certainly didn’t expect such a twist. With joy and excitement, she started fussing and babbling thanks to him, put the flowers into her tattered canvas bag and prepared to leave. But there was another “shocker” awaiting her there. Sergey gave her fifty more roubles and said: “Here, buy yourself something to eat.” Dumbfounded, the old lady clasped her hands and her eyes started to fill up with tears. She even tried to kiss his hand, not finding the words to express her gratitude. Sergey patted her shoulder and, while walking away, he looked back and told her with a smile: “Thank God, ma’am, and He won’t leave you.”
And there they parted. They slowly went further along the underpass, looking at the goods for sale. A few minutes later they saw the old woman, going in the same direction. She didn’t notice them, and out of curiosity they decided to follow her, keeping some distance. Having walked about 300 feet, they saw that the woman suddenly stopped at a large square post in the middle of the underpass, put her bag on the floor, and started rummaging in her pockets. Then, clutching a bill in her hand, she approached an old man, who was begging for money, standing on a wooden leg and leaning on a shabby twisted crutch. She made the sign of the cross, gave him the money and disappeared in the diverse crowd of the evening city.
What she did, struck the guys to the core. There could be no doubt that the woman truly needed money. In an ideal world, she would be in a warm apartment, making pancakes, babysitting her grandchildren, offering them tea with raspberry jam and telling them bedtime stories. She was clearly not a professional beggar, but it was poverty that caused her to go out and make a living in the cool damp darkness of late summer in Moscow. And at the end of the day, God sent her an unexpected gift. She got sixty-five roubles in 1 minute. Of course, it’s not much, especially in Moscow, and on the following day, just to be able to eat, she would have to stand in the underpass again. Every rouble mattered for her, she didn’t have extra money to give away. But something made her stop next to the old man, and, due to her own poverty, understanding better than anyone how that poor man felt, she, nevertheless, considered it necessary to share with him.
This simple episode profoundly impacted the hearts of our children. It became an example of compassion for one’s neighbor, an illustration of the fact that sometimes God offers help even through those who themselves are in need.
The poet Inna Lisynyanskaya wrote verses that can be translated into English as:
There’s no sweet oblivion, it’s bitter in my chest
Don’t expect the strong to defend you, only the weak will do it.
In this hellish time in Russia,
It’s pointless to ask the rich, so ask the poor…
The bitter truth of life is reflected in these words. We often see how the strong and rich turn out to be blind and deaf to those in need, and they are helped by weak, poor and compassionate people, very well understanding the destitution of those who ended up in the same life situation.
Some of the poor and needy might have this thought: what does my pitiful dollar or rouble mean compared to the donations of wealthy churchgoers? Today, I want to encourage you, my dear friends: cheer up. Maybe, your modest donation won’t make a big difference in the church treasury, but in the heavenly bank, this donation, coming from your poverty and love, will be counted in a completely different way. Therefore, don’t be embarrassed that you can’t afford to give more, but be constant in this, and always remember how highly Christ appreciated the widow’s meager sacrifice: “She has put in more than all the others.” The rest God will provide according to the Highest justice.
