A Reflection on the Seashore

To whom may a Christian be compared who bears the sorrows of earthly life with true spiritual understanding? — He may be likened to a pilgrim who stands on the shore of a surging sea. Furiously the grey-white waves approach the pilgrim’s feet and, breaking against the sand, scatter into fine spray at his feet. The sea, contending with the whirlwind, roars, heaps up waves like mountains, seethes and churns. Waves beget and devour one another; their crests are crowned with snow-white foam; the sea covered with them presents one vast maw of a terrible monster, studded with teeth. Upon this fearful spectacle the mysterious pilgrim gazes with a tranquil mind. His eyes alone are upon the sea—but where is his thought, where is his heart? His thought is at the gates of death; his heart is at the judgment seat of Christ. There he already stands in mind; there he stands in feeling; there are his cares; there is his fear—and from that fear flees the fear of earthly temptations. The winds will subside, the sea will be stilled. Where the angry waves rolled in ridges, there will spread out the unmoving surface of waters wearied by the storm. After the heightened tumult they will settle into a deathly calm; in their clear mirror the evening sun will be reflected when it rises over Kronstadt and sends its rays along the Finnish Gulf, to meet the currents of the Neva, toward Petersburg. A picturesque sight, familiar to the inhabitants of Sergiev Hermitage! How many proud, fierce waves crowned with foam have these skies, this shore, these buildings seen? And all of them have passed away, all have lain down in the silence of the grave. And those who pass by now will pass on too, will settle in the same silence! What is so fleeting, so short-lived, as the crowns of watery foam!

Gazing from the quiet monastic haven upon the sea of life stirred up by the storm of the passions, I give thanks to You, my King and God! You have brought me within the enclosure of the holy monastery! You have hidden me “in the shelter of Your face from the conspiracies of men;” You have sheltered me “under a covering from the strife of tongues!” (Ps. 30:21). Only on one account is my soul sorrowful, on one account am I troubled with uncertainty: whether I shall pass hence—from the shore of this changeable and unreliable sea of life—“to the place of the wondrous tabernacle, even to the house of God, with the voice of joy and praise, the sound of one who keeps festival” (Ps. 41:5), and dwell there forever. As for earthly sorrows—“In God I have placed my hope; I will not fear: what can man do to me?” (Ps. 55:12).

1843. Sergiev Hermitage.