The Human Constant

I spent most of Sunday at a monastery here in Moscow. Monasteries are great for a visit. Outdoors, culture, religion, walking around – it’s the quintessential way to spend your time as a tourist in Russia. But sometimes, when you’ve got one almost all to yourself, you border on learning something really profound. Something bordering an eternal truth. And sometimes, it’s pretty funny.

This may be one of the more beautiful places in Russia – or anywhere, for that matter – and the whole site is exceedingly well-kept. The Saviour Andronikov monastery is beautifully situated on a bluff over a branch of the Moscow River. The gates of the monastery are set back from the boulevard by a charming park; the grounds themselves are surrounded by white walls, the corner towers crowned by wooden peaked roofs. There’s a spacious lawn inside, dotted with birches that are rapidly changing colors and shedding leaves at this point in the fall.

This was once distant countryside in the 14th century, but now ranks pretty close to being in the city center. But you wouldn’t know it from the people. Or lack of people. Three young couples pushed prams around, while toddlers laughed and played on the grass. The only thing that hinted at the bustle of Moscow was the distant whisper of trains. And two old ladies planting bushes who had to keep chasing a curious kitten away from their work.

The main building houses a stunning collection of icons gathered from across Russia. Some are frighteningly old – like the ones from the 13th century. Some are imposing and grandiose – like the ones from the 17th century. All are beautifully presented in a wonderful, heavily guarded museum.

Of course, what would a monastery be without a church? The Andronikov’s claim to fame is that its church dates from around 1390. Which, in the opinion of historians who accept that date, makes this church the oldest stone building of any kind in Moscow. Impressive.

It was when I was sitting in front of this most ancient of buildings when I had an epiphany. I was reading about the founder of the monastery, and why he founded it at all. Seems this church leader was on a ship on the Black Sea, sailing from Byzantium, when he got stuck in a storm. One tour book said he built the monastery on this bluff, where he first glimpsed Moscow in the distance, as thanks for his safe return.

But the Russian tour book said something a little bit different. It said that during the storm, he promised to build a monastery glorifying God. A little bit different, and a little easier to relate to. Somewhere on the Black Sea, sometime during the 13th century, a sea-sick guy in the bottom of a ship, fearing for his life, makes a deal. “Get me through this, Lord, and I’ll build you the nicest damned monastery you’ve ever seen. I swear it.”

How old a story is that? The imploring of the Lord, bribing God with all sorts of actions or inactions or stopping or starting of things? So, I sat there some 650 years after the fact and felt a certain kinship with the founder of the monastery – after all, we’ve all pulled something like that. Mostly those empty promises come to naught once the crisis passes. But not for the guy who built this place. Thankfully, for the sake of my Sunday afternoon, he made good on his bargain.