Lonely prayer

Religion was an opium for a people – uncle Stalin repeated it really often. Orthodox popes was imperialists, who were oppressing working class just like nobles and capitalists. So-called God wasn't exists and wasn't needed anymore, because in the new, socialistic reality there was no place for superstitions. Russia couldn't believe, that before The October Revolution he thought, this all thing was true. But there was still some people in USRR, who were praying to 'God' and Ivan sometimes could hear or see, how Baltic brothers or Ukraine were doing it in their little churches.

However Russia was feeling sometimes weird heat and heaviness inside of him. He didn't know what was that, but he supposed it was nothing special. Later he started to feel also the most ridiculous desire, he ever felt – he wanted to pray. This want was invading him, especially, when he was alone. Then he thought about the day of his baptism. The day, when he became part of Orthodox Church, was the day, when many things in his life changed. From that day orthodox faith was part of his national identity. Sometimes he had realizing, that he missed this warm feeling, when he was praying. It was weird, that someone with such 'materialistic notion', as his, wanted to get back to this superstitions.

But he always had enough strength to resist this silly want and he once again was becoming good communist.

23 June 1941

It was late evening and Russia was walking on the hallways of Kremlin, thinking about incoming war and about this frightful event with uncle Stalin. Ivan was directing to his room. He felt really tired, but he knew, that sleep was impossible in current situation. How Ivan could fall asleep, when his soldiers were defending the borders, even dying? How could he peacefully slumber, when he was hit by uncle Stalin into face? There will be no sleep tonight. There will be only hope, that everything end with quick victory, which was promised by uncle. At least this mobilization from 14th June had to bring some effects.

Echo of his steps seemed to be louder in the empty hallway. Russia was silent and he started slowly getting use to this silence. When he reached Lithuania's room, he decided to check, if his subordinate was sleeping. He put his hand on the doorknob and delicately opened the door a bit. Room was enlighten, which meant, Toris wasn't sleeping yet. Ivan's eyes widened, when he looked into room and saw his favorite subordinate kneeling at the bedside. He was slowly passing the fingers on the beads of rosary in his hands and mumbling something in Lithuanian. Through Ivan's head passed million emotions – from jeer to disgust – but he was still just watching how Toris was praying with muse and humility. Russia could only suppose, for what Lithuania was asking God. The most probable was that he was praying for protection during coming war. Well, Russia would ask for it …

Ivan pounded upon this thought, carefully closed the door and came back to his walk. Soon he had to stop himself again, when he approached room of the Ukraine and heard even louder prayer. From closed door coming easily hearable whispers, which forced Ivan to stop and listen.

"God, if you have to take many lives, please, be merciful for them and make our people not suffer much. Also, please, take care of Vanya." Russia was stunned, but he was listening his sister still. "Let him come back safe. He isn't bad person and I know, that You know it. But he can't see Your Love. Please, show him it."

Russia didn't know what to think about it. He was happy, that his sister is praying in his intention (it's nice to know, she worry about him), but on the other hand – it was shameful, that she think, he need to see 'His Love'. He was socialists! He didn't need 'God', who didn't even existed! In the end he just rushed to his room and decided to try some sleep. After all tomorrow will be big day. He will go on the war with Ludwig.

December 1941, Leningrad

This situation was hopeless. Not only they were fighting and constantly losing to Germans, not only every village, that supposed to be on Ludwig's men way to capital, were ordered by Ivan's highest commanders to be evacuated and burned; not only winter was arriving, but this damn Germs were now blocking Leningrad! City was attacked by German land and air forces. Citizens imprisoned there were suffering from famine, wounds and lacks in supplies.

Now Russia was sitting in the covered by snow camp, and feeling the same pain as in the past. All his body was aching from his people sufferings. Like every nation, he was constantly hearing cries of mothers, he was dying a little bit with all soldiers – this too young and this too old for war – who were falling with every battle with Germans. Well, many of this battles was won by Russia, but was it matter, when it wasn't stopping Germany from attack? At least Ivan's soldiers had this advantage that they were fighting on their land and they knew how to survive attacks of General Winter. My, oh my… This was another daytime nightmare that won't end soon. He wished to wake up in his own bed in Kremlin and realize it all just not happened. But he knew, it was happening. He tried to stay strong, keep fighting and not worry about the pain, but every day brought new sufferings, new mother's tears and new doubts.

Yes, doubts. Still the same from all this centuries. Will he survive this? Will he be able to recover after this whole madness and bloodshed of his people? How he'll manage to do this? Wouldn't be better for him to be dead and not feel this all?

He rose his gaze and rolled it around it. His soldiers were doing all sort of things to forget about war. Tightly sheltered by their heavy coats, they were taking care of their guns, talking with each other, playing cards… But Ivan knew, they were tired of this whole war as much as he was. They tried to resist the German's attacks (they really were determinate to not let them in), but day by day it became more and more difficult.

Ivan decided to go on a walk through the town. Anything, but sitting here and let his mind think about war. He stood up from the ground, hung on his shoulder the gun and started to march. Everything was gray – wide, covered with ash and rubble earth, those shuttered buildings, which were once the pride of the USSR, people's heavy coats… Sky also was gray from clouds. The scent of danger and hopelessness could be felt everywhere. People, who were passing him by, weren't realizing that the personification of their country was walking just like that. Russia could hear the fragments of their conversations. They were whining about everything – hunger, bombs, army, Germans, even about Party and its leader. But when they was seeing Ivan's uniform, they've become silent and Ivan could see the fear in their eyes. He was smiling to them with the most friendly smile, he could manage. He wanted to say to them: "I know, how you feel. I'm feeling the same." After all, he was. He carried all their doubts and pain.

His eyes suddenly caught in the distance familiar, onion-shaped roof with eight-arm cross on the top. And for some unknown reason his feet started to marching into church's direction. When he finally reached the gate to old, little sanctuary, his legs – led by curiousness or something else, something deeper – ordered him to go inside. So he came in.

Church wasn't any different from other orthodox churches – there was no benches, only few at the entrance. Above him was yellow copula with some fresco with Jesus holding a Bible. In the middle of the sanctuary was standing the anałojczyk – table with the icon. But the most important part of temple – the altar – was behind this table. Ivan remembered that altars always were directed on East, where was the Paradise and where Jesus Christ was born. On this altar stood the throne, covered by silk scarf, called antymins (there supposed to be sowed relic, but Russia doubted that there could be any in so small and unknown church). Ivan could also see there a gospel, darochranitielnica – special bowl for Eucharist, seven-arm candlestick and cross. On the left side of the alter was standing sacrificial board with bowl (potir), plate for Eucharist bread (patena), spear, or rather triangle knife for cutting the prosfor (the Eucharist bread) and many, many other things.

As long as Ivan was observing the church, he remembered another details of orthodox symbolic. He thought that it all should be forgotten by him long time ago, but still – every corner of the small church brought to his mind another thing that good Orthodox Christian should know. He connected the three fingers (the symbol of three persons of God) of his right hand and made the sign of cross. His knees bent and Russia genuflected on the church floor. For a moment he was only listening the silence – soothing, wonderful silence – around him. He rose his head and looked at the copula above him. Jesus on the fresco was sending him soft, merciful gaze, but as long as Ivan was observing it, those painted eyes seemed to changing from friendly to accusatory. And then something inside Russia broke. He started to cry.

So God was existing, after all. Ivan could feel His presence in this sacred place. And He wasn't happy with a sinful soul, who dared to came here. Russia remembered that he was hurting people around him, that he disavow the God from his heart long time ago, that he was robbing the churches and saying really bad things about not only God's servant, but also about the God himself. He was a bad person, after all. Sinful, horrible, selfish person. What good things he was giving to others? To Lithuania, Latvia, Estonia, to his sisters? Nothing, nothing at all. Why he came here, to this church? Was he searching for forgiveness? Or maybe – for comfort, when everything around him was breaking apart. He didn't know. Right now only thing he knew was that he hadn't stopped believed in God, even if his boss wanted him to stop. Somewhere inside him his soul was always wanting to return to Lord, who created it. But wasn't it too late for return?

Russia fell entirely on the floor, opening his arms widely on the ground. The coldness from the released doors was wrapping him and he was feeling the cool spikes all over his body, but he didn't cared. He was now somewhere else. He was still crying the tears of guilty. Maybe this whole war with Germany was God's punishment for all those years of being such evil nation? But before he could answer this question, his ear on the ground caught the sound of someone's steps. That person was approaching him, but he hadn't rose his body, or even his head from the floor. He was only listening the steps that echoed through the empty church, until he didn't saw the shoes that stood right before him.

"I know, who you are." Someone's soft voice whispered.

Ivan looked up to see the smiling face of pope in simple, black robe. The priest kneeled before the startled man, still smiling to Ivan, like to child. Ivan didn't said anything. He was just staring at pope with wet eyes and puffed, red cheeks.

"You are Ivan Braginsky, a Russia." Pope added. Suddenly his face saddened. "What took you so long to come here?"

"I… I…" Russia started, but then he just rested his head on the floor and began to crying again. Pope was silent for a moment, but then he lifted Russia's chin and looked into sad, violet eyes.

"You're lost, Ivan." He said quietly. "You did many bad things to others, but also many bad things had been done to you. You're carrying the pain of millions, during such horrible times. Why you didn't come here earlier? Were you afraid of something?"

"Everything seems to be so complicated nowadays…" Russia replied quietly, putting his gaze down. "Death is all around me. I supposed to believe my dear uncle Stalin, but every day is a nightmare." His fists clenched and new tears ran through his cheeks. "I can't handle it anymore. My people are resisting, but I can't take it. I feel like all my strength is running away from me with each day of this living hell."

Pope hushed him and helped him stood up. Right now Russia could see that priest was shorter than him. His head only was reaching Ivan's shoulder. Pope smiled to Russia once again and said:

"Maybe you were putting trust in wrong person?" He grimed. "No matter what people say about Stalin, he's still only a human. I'm sure God will listen you, if you pray."

And he slowly started to leave. When he finally disappeared, Ivan knelled once again on the floor, made sign of cross and started to murmuring the words of prayer. Now he understood, why Toris and Katia was praying that day before the war with Germany. His heart began to calming itself down like baby during lullaby sung by beloved mother. Suddenly there was hope for good end of this horrible situation. Yes, everything can be survived. There's only needed one thing – God's Love.

When Ivan left the sanctuary he felt like new person. His doubts faded away and he could see the sun shining through the winter clouds. Russia smiled to himself and returned to the camp.