CHAPTER 2 - "Exaltation of the Most Holy Cross"
It was Sunday and business went on as usual in the Chinese Communist world. People bought, sold, traded, and took care of business like on any other day of the week. Andrey went early in the morning to sell the rifle to the Chinaman in order to get some money for Ivan. Stefan Durakov was laid in a coffin in preparation for the funeral service at the church cemetery. Ivan and Masha slept after the night church service. They woke up at noon when Andrey had already returned from town with the money. He had left the money with the grandfather when he was told that his friend was still sleeping.
"Tell Ivan I'll try to make it to the train station tonight when the train is scheduled to depart for Hong Kong," instructed Andrey.
Andrey was in his wagon and whipping his horse into motion before Ivan could get out of bed. Ivan heard the commotion at the front door, but he had a hard time opening his tired eyes. He always felt this way after a long night service.
"What did Andrey say?" asked Ivan as he rubbed the sleep away from his eyes with his knuckles. He stopped three feet away from his grandfather and waited impatiently for an answer.
"He told me to give this money to you," said Iov, handing a small roll of money into Ivan's outstretched left hand. Iov stroked his long gray beard as he tried to remember what else he was expected to relay. Then he felt a tingle in his brain, and a picture of Andrey flashed into his mind. Instantly he heard the words, "Tell Ivan I'll try to make it to the train station."
"And there's something else," muttered Iov as his eyes sparkled with the joy of remembering. "Andrey said he'll try to see you at the train station one last time before you leave for Hong Kong." Iov didn't mention anything about the Soviet agitators that were in town. Andrey had briefly remarked about their presence in Harbin.
Ivan went back to his room, folded the money carefully into his wallet, and then said his prayers. Masha began to stir as Ivan rapidly and meticulously made his obeisances and crossings. He muttered the Lord's Prayer and then he finished off with another short petition for the Lord "not to be angered at me a sinner and a lazy servant." He emphasized the closing words, "and enlighten the eyes of my heart to learn of your word and to understand your commandments and to do your will and to sing unto thee with an open heart." Masha whispered the words, "And to praise your holy and All-Mighty name, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, now and always and for ever and ever. Amen."
Masha bowed three times to the floor beside her husband, and then she crossed herself in the act of finalizing the morning prayer. She fought back a tear as she imagined what a hard road lay ahead of them. She struggled to her feet under the weight of the child in her womb and under the burden of the overpowering depression that suddenly seized her heart.
"What's the matter with you?" asked Ivan, grabbing Masha by the arm as she started to falter and lose her footing.
"I don't know," responded Masha, as she reposed in Ivan's arms. "I felt a little faint and sorrowful."
"You should feel happy," encouraged Ivan. "We have a bright future ahead of us."
"I know," replied Masha. "But I was thinking of the uncertainty that lies ahead. What if we don't make it to America? What if we're tricked into going to some other country? What kind of work will you do? And how will we live?"
"My dear Mashenka," reprimanded Ivan, using an endearing form of her name. "Our lives are in the hands of God. He lead our parents thus far, and now He'll lead us to the Promised Land. I have no doubts that we'll live some day soon in America. Don't worry about it. We'll make it all right."
Ivan put his reassuring arm around Masha's shoulder and caressed her cheeks. He kissed her tears away and reassured her with affectionate words that everything would work out for good for them.
The warm tender moment was interrupted by a rare occurrence in the countryside--the jarring sound of a whining Army jeep. Ivan quickly ran to the front door to see what on earth was entering their private domain. Iov glanced over Ivan's shoulder as the Soviet jeep thundered and skidded to a dusty halt outside their gravel walkway. Two men in brown uniforms stepped out of the two-seat jeep and briskly walked up to the door.
"Tovarishchi," (comrades) said the older of the two men as he smiled in an awkward way. His face was red from excessive drinking and his hands were stained with cigarette tar and nicotine. A thin scar from a knife wound decorated the left side of his throat. He addressed all people with the over-used Soviet term "comrade."
"Shto vam nada?" (What do you want?) asked Ivan as he took a defensive position with arms folded across his chest.
"We heard that the Westerners have enticed the Chinese to let some of you go abroad," began the older man, who happened to be a sergeant. "Our Soviet consulate in China is concerned about its Russian citizens and wishes to extend a warm welcome back to the Fatherland for all who wish to return."
"We have no such desire," bluntly stated Ivan. He was ready to close the door when the other man stepped forward with an outstretched right hand.
"Pozhaluysta pogozhdyi-ka minutku," (Please wait a minute) politely requested the younger man in his starched uniform. Ivan stopped and looked at the young man who was decorated with several distinguished-looking metals. His youthful face and high-class mannerisms were a complete contrast to his low-breeding, burly companion. A shiny medal emblazoned with the words "The Order of Lenin" caught Ivan's eyes.
"Hear me out," began the young officer. "We have begun a new program in Russia."
He had been trained to use the Russia instead of Soviet Union when talking to non-Soviets. The words "new program" enticed even Iov to perk up his ears. He edged his way past Ivan and made his peasant appearance plainly visible to the young lieutenant.
"This new program consists of giving land back to the people and bringing all the Russians back to their won soil," continued the young lieutenant, who was experienced in the art of persuasion through positive propaganda. "There is a bright future for Russia, and we wish to unite all the Russians behind the slogan 'Peace to All the World.' Russia is now rising to its highest potential, and within a month it will take its place as the boldest and most adventurous nation on earth. Russia plans to reach for the stars and point the way to the cosmos for all humanity. I cannot disclose all the facts to you, but I can promise you one thing."
"What's that?" asked Iov as he stepped down from the threshold of the door to the ground below. The young lieutenant looked the old man straight in the eye.
"Things in Russia have changed for the better," announced the young lieutenant with a smile. "Even the churches are opening their doors again, and people are permitted to gather and worship their god. The days of persecution are over."
Iov couldn't believe his ears. Could this be true?
"You're lying!" exclaimed Ivan. Ivan stared at the clean-shaven young lieutenant. Ivan saw a man who spoke Russian and yet belied the traditional mold of a bearded Russian (an image that Ivan had formed in his own mind as to what was real and orthodox in contrast to what was false and ungodly).
"Wait a minute!" chimed in Iov in his squeeky old voice. "There might be some truth to what he's saying."
"There's no truth in his words at all," roared Ivan. His voice and facial appearance began to resemble a lion intent on swallowing its prey. He pointed his finger at the sergeant who was not sitting comfortably in the driver's seat smoking a thin-tubed Soviet cigarette. "That man is an animal, and he has the look of a murderer. I would never trust my life in his hands. I've heard he takes our people to Siberia and whips them until they die."
The sergeant sat up at the mention of the word "murderer." He hadn't heard anyone call him that since the second world war when he stabbed a German in cold blood. That was when he had received the knife wound in his throat. The German had managed to momentarily grab the knife from his hand and strike at his vital life line, but the sergeant overpowered him with a bear hug and cut the German's throat before he could strike again.
"I'll teach you to call me names," bellowed the sergeant as he came storming toward the man who dared confront him. The young lieutenant stood in his way with arms extended at the sides, barring the way for any impetuous attack. The young lieutenant whispered a threat into the sergeant's enraged ears, and the sergeant backed off instantly. He did not want to be reported for insubordination to a higher-ranking officer.
"I'm sorry for his behavior," said the young officer in a cool manner. "He has suffered much during the war, and the scars of memory do not heal at all with such old war horses."
Ivan stood in the doorway, trembling from the thought that he had almost provoked a fight from a veteran warrior. Masha had watched the showdown from the window facing the walkway, and now she came to Ivan's rescue.
"Come inside, Vanya," she pleaded, taking him by the hand and pulling him back to safety. Ivan did not resist. He felt numb and weak, as if his blood had rushed from his head to his feet.
"Starichok (old man)," said the young officer, addressing Iov in familiar terms. "You tell that young boy of yours that Russia can use his fighting spirit and his courageous energy. And don't forget, as our saying goes, "Svoya zemlya e v gorosti mila (One's own land is dear even in time of affliction)."
"Is it true, young man," interrupted Iov, who was intent on finding a solution to an age old question, "that Russia is really going to lead the world to a better future?"
"That's a fact," replied the young officer proudly.
"And the orthodox faith will be restored to its rightful God-given place?" asked Iov with a starry-eyed look in his eyes.
"Religion will be tolerated," stated the young officer matter-of-factly. "Comrade Khrushchev has assured us of that."
"Then there's still hope for Russia," mused the old man as his eyes gazed into the northwest across the hills to the land which he once called "rodina" (motherland). "If Russia remembers God and recalls her mission in the world as our fathers taught us, then the cross of suffering will fall off her back and she'll stand upright once again in the orthodox faith as she once did before the heretical changes brought ruin and judgment upon the land."
The young officer had no idea what the old man was muttering about. He saw that the old man was simply talking to himself, as if in some reverie or a form of rapture.
"Let's hit the next household," signaled the young officer to his driver. "The old man's rambling like a fool."
The sergeant turned the key in the ignition, and the jeep's motor sputtered and choked momentarily from all the country dust that had gotten into its carburetor. Iov turned and yelled toward the jeep.
"Are there others going back to Russia?" asked Iov.
"What did you say?" yelled back the young officer.
Iov came up to the jeep. "Are there other Russians that are willing to go back to Russia?" he repeated.
"Yes," replied the young officer. "We have several trucks by the consulate in town ready to go back tonight with people assigned to them. We’ve already shipped a convoy earlier this week. I told you it's a big program, and many of your people would rather go back to Russia than wander upon the face of the earth for the rest of their days."
"I want to go back to my 'rodina' (motherland) again," said Iov. His soul leaped for joy within his heart. All at once he knew that he was coming home again. His journey on earth was over.
"We won't have much use for you, old man," remarked the sergeant bluntly.
"That's all right," interjected the young officer tactfully. "You can still come. Mother Russia will welcome you back in her arms no matter how old you are. Be at the consulate before dark. It's several blocks away from the train station. You'll find it."
The sergeant whizzed back in reverse and then shifted into first gear as he picked up a cloud of dust under the spinning tires. The young lieutenant waved and smiled at Iov, who turned his face away from the blinding dust.
Iov crossed himself and muttered his habitual "Gospodi Pomilui" (Lord, have mercy) as he opened the door to the hut. He knew exactly what he had to do. He envisioned the circular path of his pilgrimage, which had started from Russia and was finally returning there again. He touched the wooden cross that hung around his neck on a thick string and muttered a prayer before he approached Ivan.
"My dear grandson, Ioann," began the old patriarch as he approached Ivan. "I want you to sit down for a moment and listen to my last words of instruction to you."
Ivan sensed the seriousness of the moment, for his grandfather used spiritual name Ioann only during moments of special spiritual instruction. He sat down in a chair facing Iov, who stood before Ivan with trembling hands.
"This cross that I'm about to give to you is a sacred relic that my nastoyatel (minister) Avraam gave me before he went to meet his maker." Iov showed Ivan a brown wooden cross about two inches long and one inch wide. There was a worn spot on the bottom of the cross, and the unpainted exterior revealed splinters of a light brown hue making up its substance.
"This precious cross has a long history, and it has always blessed and protected those who respected it and honored it by wearing it around their necks," stated Iov reverently. "The wood is sacred. It was made years ago in Russia from a consecrated tree. The symbols of our faith are inscribed on it. Listen carefully and always remember what I am about to tell you."
Iov came close to Ivan and knelt on his right knee as he showed the face of the cross to Ivan. Ivan bent over slightly and peered at the mystery of the wooden tree-cross. He had seen it before, but now he was being honored by having it in his possession. It was larger than the one inch soft metal cross that he wore around his neck.
"You've heard it said, I'm sure," continued Iov, "That the Latin cross has four extremities and our orthodox cross has eight extremities. Our cross was given to us to safeguard and preserve for all generations so that the complete mystery of God might be revealed in due time. Our cross combines three crosses: the first cross on top has the inscription 
'Tsar Slavi' (King of Glory) over it; the second cross, the longer one going horizontally a little below the smaller top one and parallel with it, has the inscription
'Iseus Hristos, sin Bozhiy' (Iseus Hristos, Son of God) on the sides; the third cross, a diagonal cross, with the left foot being lower than the raised right foot, has the inscription
'rab Bozhiy, mesto lobnoye, glava Adamova' (servant of God, place of the Skull, head of Adam) on the sides, using just the first initials. Connecting the lower cross and standing on the left and right sides are the reed upon which the vinegar in a sponge was given to our Lord to drink and the spear which pierced his side. On the sides of the cross near its middle is the inscription 'ni ka' which means
'nas iskupi krovyou Adamova' (save us with the blood of Adam). And at the foot of the cross is the head of Adam, which rests in repose under the entire structure of the three crosses. I have heard it said that the cross of Hristos was created from three kinds of wood:
'kipareesa, pevga, e kedra.' One of our teachers, St. John Chrysostom, however, was of the opinion that the cross was made only of oak."
Ivan puzzled over the words ''kipareesa, pevga, e kedra." He knew the cypress and the cedar trees, but he had never heard of the third tree.
"What kind of tree is pevga?" asked Ivan.
"That is a mystery to me, too," answered Iov. He turned the cross over to its back side and pointed to the one verse inscription. "On this side is the prayer of protection that you say before going to sleep at night. Teach it to your children, and tell them to teach it to their children."
Iov closed his eyes, crossed himself, and recited the prayer by heart:
"Da voskresnet Bog, e razidutsya vrazi yeho, e da bezhat ot litsa yeho nenavigyashchiye yeho." ("Let God arise, let his enemies be scattered; let them also that hate him flee before him"). Those were the sacred words from Psalms chapter 68, verse 1 which were inscribed on the small cross.
Ivan joined his grandfather in the continuation of the well-known prayer of protection: "As smoke is driven away, so drive them away; as wax melteth before (the face of) the fire, so let the wicked (demons) perish at the presence (the face of) those who love God and make the sign of the cross upon themselves. And let us rejoice saying: Rejoice for the cross of our Lord, which disperses demons with the power of the one who was crucified on it, our Lord Isous Hristos, who descended into hell and defeated the power of the devil and gave us his glorious cross for dispersion of all evil. Oh, most honored and life-giving Cross of our Lord, help me with Our Holy Lady the Mother of God and with all the holy heavenly powers, at all times, now and always and for all ages in eternity. Amen."
Iov and Ivan bowed to the ground and touched their forehead against the floor. After three such obeisances they stood up and bowed from the waist down toward each other in mutual respect and humiliation. Ivan could no longer hold back the tears that were longing to burst and roll down the sides of his face.
"Why are you leaving us?" sobbed Ivan, who had by now sensed the imminent separation.
"My pilgrimage on earth is over, my grandson," softly replied Iov as he embraced and comforted Ivan. "I must go back to Mother Russia to lay down my weary bones and rest. I'd rather make the full circle and return to my homeland than to continue suffering in some foreign land. There's a saying: 
'S rodnoy zemli--oomri, nye skhodi' (Die with your motherland--don't leave it). You have your own destiny to fulfill, so you go on without me. The protection of the Holy Cross will preserve you from all harm. Look to its redeeming power, for it is our connection between heaven and earth."
"But those ungodly Soviets will send you to Siberia to die like an animal," remonstrated Ivan.
"My dear boy," admonished Iov. "There is nowhere on earth that you can hide from the ante-Hrist and his legion of demons that persecute the true believers. His work of evil and ungodliness is spread all over the earth, and only in constant prayer and vigil can you escape his mark on your soul. I believe in Russia even though she has momentarily turned her face away from God. I believe that she is destined to reveal the true orthodox faith in due time. Remember, she is the third kingdom, and a fourth there will never be, as was prophesized by our forefathers. If I have to suffer for the cause and be betrayed by a fellow-Russian, so be it. I am ready to give up the world and my life in order to gain my reward in paradise."
An aura of light beamed around Iov's face as his eyes gazed heavenward. He seemed to be gazing into another world as he spoke, a world of martyrdom for the sake of salvation. He was willing to participate in earthly suffering in imitation of Christ in order to gain a heavenly crown.
"I was hoping to cross into the new land with you," said Ivan with his head bent down. His eyes looked through tears at his grandfather's worn out shoes.
"There's only one land that I want to enter now, my dear boy," said Iov. "Raiy" (Paradise).
"We'll go into town together," said Ivan, changing the subject.
"Yes, we'll go into town together, and then we'll go our separate ways, you on the waters to a new land and me on dry land back to an old land," said Iov as he stared with foresight into the distant future.
Later Iov instructed Ivan to take the ikons from the molelnya (church) and the tapestry of the seven crosses and pack them in a special suitcase. Ivan was instructed to set them up in the new land to which they would go.
Two hours before dusk, as the sun was beginning its descent to the horizon, Ivan, Masha and Iov climbed into a hired wagon with their belongings wrapped up in small bundles and their special treasures and sacred relics packed in suitcases. They were on their way to Harbin. As they rode past the home of the late Stefan Durakov, they heard a group of old ladies chanting and mourning. Ivan asked the driver to stop for a moment. He wanted to listen for a moment. Through the open window could be heard the repetitious intonations of a familiar prayer:
The driver was impatient to get to Harbin and back home before dark, so Ivan was not able to pay his last respects to a friend he hardly knew. The sun was hanging over the western horizon on the top of the hills outside town by the time the threesome arrived in the crowded city of Harbin. The streets were busy as usual with China's teeming masses, who scurried through the newly paved streets on their bicycles like ants busily working for their colony.
Ivan and Iov parted ways at the Soviet consulate, where a group of Old Believers were excitedly milling around, waiting for the trucks that would take them back to Mother Russia.
As Ivan rode away from the Soviet consulate, he heard a gramophone blasting out the Soviet national anthem, "The Internationale," a son which tried to unite the whole human race under the banner of the hammer, the sickle and the five-pointed star on the red Soviet flag. Ivan kept waving to Iov until he came to a crossroad, and then he lost sight of him completely. A big lump formed in Ivan's throat as he tried to hold back the tears of parting.
At the train station Ivan ran into Alyosha Chestnoslov, who had just come from the preliminary prayers for the soul of Stefan Durakov.
"Alyosha, my dear friend," exclaimed Ivan as he caught sight of Alyosha with his wife and three children. Alyosha Chestnoslov was six years older than Ivan, and he stood several inches taller than Ivan, who was an inch shy of six feet. Alyosha looked much older than he actually was because of the white streaks in his stringy beard. Ivan and Alyosha had hunted together on numerous occasions, and their topic of conversation usually revolved around hunting. But on this occasion Ivan was interested in finding out more about Stefan's death and funeral.
"Did you see Stefan before you left?" asked Ivan.
"I just came from there," said Alyosha. His face instantly changed in expression from joy to sadness at the mention of Stefan's name. He still felt guilty and partly to blame for the young boy's tragic encounter with the tiger.
"Andrey told me what happened," said Ivan. "It must have been awful."
"The parents didn't want to show their son's face," said Alyosha, twisting his face into a horrible grimace. "His face was so badly scratched by he tiger's claws that it was hard to recognize him. The father built the coffin and covered his son up so no one would see the unpleasant picture. He wanted everyone to remember his son as a beautiful, handsome young man."
"Andrey didn't tell me about the face," remarked Ivan.
"The father asked us not to tell anyone at the time," confessed Alyosha. "I came to their house yesterday to help the mother dress Stefan in the new white shirt with cross-stitched cherries that she quickly sewed especially for his burial. He was all washed and clean, but he still had the scars on his face. The five pairs of red cherries on the front of his shirt and the five yellow flowers with each pair added some life to his ghastly appearance. The eight cherries sewn around the high collar concealed the ugly gash that the tiger ripped around his neck."
"How was the father and mother taking it?" asked Ivan.
"They wept right along with the others who came to mourn," succinctly stated Alyosha. "The father, you know, built the coffin and the wooden cross with his own hands. He looked tired, and so did the mother."
"It's too bad he won't be making it with us to Hong Kong," remarked Ivan.
"It's a pity," agreed Alyosha. "In fact, we were talking about leaving China during our hunting trip. He was anxious to travel to a new country. But that wasn't God's will for him."
Ivan and Alyosha continued talking about small matters while they waited for the train that would take them to Hong Kong. Masha conversed, in the meantime, with Alyosha's wife, Varvara, who had been born in China ten days after her parents had crossed the border near Khabarovsk. She had Chinese mannerisms from associating with Chinese school children, and her facial features reminded one of the Tartar cross-breeking that had permanently changed and polluted the purity of the white Russian blood back in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. Varvara's Asiatic tint in her skin and roundness in her face was characteristic of the half-breed Russian. In fact, at one time it was popular to use the proverb, "If you scratch the skin of a Russian, underneath you'll find a Tartar."
Masha took an instant liking to Varvara, who was fond of children and talked a mile a minute about the three children she gave birth to. Varvara reassured Masha that having children was a climactic experience in a woman's life, an experience that is cherished and relived many times. The two women talked all the time they sat waiting. They talked about giving birth, about babies, and about raising a family. Varvara's three children, in the mean time, played games by the railroad tracks.
It was dark when the train finally arrived at the station. Everything was arranged for the first group of Old Believers to depart for Hong Kong. The officials at the station stamped their papers and loaded them into the train. Ivan and Masha stayed close to their friends, Alyosha and Varvara. The two couples had become inseparable, and their friendship strengthened during the days to come.
Six days later, on the holyday the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, the train arrived on the Kowloon side of Hong Kong. The Old Believers had crossed the border into the western world. It was a world of the Englishman, the merchant, and the fast English cars driving on the left hand side of the street. It was a world of international ships transporting goods to and from the other countries of the world. It was a world trade center, and Ivan felt as if he had crossed over into a strange, foreign land where the Russian life as Ivan knew it was virtually non-existent.
Ivan comforted himself on that day, the 14th of September, with the words that he had remembered from the liturgy of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross: "O Lord, save Thy people and bless Thine inheritance; grant victory to our Orthodox Believers against the heath and protect thy people with Thy Cross."
Ivan crossed himself, as did some of his fellow Old Believers, when they left the communist world in China and entered the free world in British Hong Kong.
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Chapter 3
Beginning - Chapter 1
Backside of Cross
Copyright 1982 by Paul John Wigowsky
