"What effect has this holy activity had on the land? We have no physical instruments to measure the effect of accumulated prayer and sanctity. But those who stand in such places with open hearts cannot but feel that something is different about this ground that sets it apart from all the land on earth"
Editor's Note: Fr. Justin Frederick, an Orthodox priest from Texas, recently went on a pilgrimage to visit holy places in Russia. His travels took him to Rostov the Great, about three hours north of Moscow. In the historical record, this ancient city is first mentioned in the year 862, and there have been Christians living in Rostov for over 1000 years.
Reminiscent of the style of Solzhenitsyn's prose poems, Fr. Justin writes about his experience participating in a cross procession beside the 500-year-old Dormition Cathedral in Rostov:
The Sunday Divine Liturgy in the small church under the famous bells has ended, but the clergy and the faithful are not yet finished. One man takes in hand the processional cross; other men lift large banners as children rush into the room next to the nave to grab small banners to carry. An adolescent boy, wearing robes, lifts a large metal bowl filled with holy water. One priest seizes the aspergillum for distributing the holy water. The other vested priests reverently raise the boxes containing the church’s relics. Quickly, but without confusion or fuss due to weekly practice, all these gather at the church door to form a procession led by the cross and banners, followed by the priests, choir, and faithful parishioners.
The cross-procession issues out into a large courtyard enclosed by walls and buildings in the middle of which stands a cathedral. People cluster at the door of the small church; other groups of people dot the enclosure. Some are the faithful who were present for the Divine Service just concluded, but many are domestic sightseers and foreign tourists, for this is a famous ancient town rich with historical beauty. They are not dressed for worship, neither had they any intention this morning of entering the divine service, but the Church, nevertheless, comes out to them.
The procession marches counterclockwise around the cathedral. The priests and choir sing antiphonally: “O Jesus, Son of God, have mercy on us.” “Most Holy Theotokos, save us.” “O ye saints of the Lord, pray to God for us.” To the unmitigated delight of the children, the priest armed with the aspergillum gleefully splashes water on everyone within range—on pious faithful and gawking sightseer alike—for no one watching holy things may escape without paying the price of a blessed dousing.
On this patch of ground, a church has stood since the time the inhabitants of this city were first baptized more than a thousand years ago—first a wooden church, now a magnificent temple in stone erected some five hundred years ago. On this ground for more than a thousand years, the divine services have been served and countless cross processions have passed, sanctifying it with holy water, saturating it with the tears and prayers of the people.
What effect has this holy activity had on the land? We have no physical instruments to measure the effect of accumulated prayer and sanctity. But those who stand in such places with open hearts cannot but feel that something is different about this ground that sets it apart from all the land on earth that is given over to common use, and with a little reflection, they will perceive man’s deep need for places that by long use ease his drawing near to God. And, what is more, herein the faithful living in lands newer to the Gospel may discern their persistent task of sanctifying their own soil unto the Heavenly King.
See the beauty of Rostov for yourself:
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