Följande är ett utdrag ur “The Russian Orthodox Church Underground – 1917-1970″, av William C. Fletcher, s. 133 f.
Boris Shiriaev relates in considerable detail the story of a certain Nikodim, at Solovky during the twenties, who was a source of great comfort and encouragement to his fellow prisoners. A devout man, he “observed the liturgy, rising earlier than anyone else and going to a secluded corner”. Shiriaev relates numerous conversations Nikodim had with his fellow prisoners, such as the following:
“And I hold services whenever possible”.
“Here? In the barracks?”
“Here, every third day. They havent noticed yet. And when they brought us here I held services.”
“Didn’t they bring you here in a ´Stolypin´car? In three-man cages?”
“In the same.”
“How then did you hold the service? In those cages you can’t even stand up.”
“…There we held service. We were lying down. On one side of me was a swindler, and in the other a Tatar of the Caucasus, a Mohammedan. It was getting late, the train was swaying over the rails, the soldier went beyond the grating. Quiet. And I held vespers: ‘From my youth…’ And when I came to the great glorification (I was praying in a whisper, as was the Tatar also, quietly, and to himself), at the glorification in a full voice I proclaimed: ‘Lord God, Lamb of God, who takest away the sins of the world, accept our prayer.’ Here even the swindler crossed himself. Every evening I held service thus, the entire nine days, while they brought us in the car. What do you mean I have no parish? The Lord promised, where in His name two or three are gathered together, He is there in their midst, and there were three of us together then…Here it is, my parish, unworthy priest that I am. His parish who loved man, the blind, the weak, the bleeding, the lepers, the raving, and all, all thirsting for His miracle, praying for His miracle”.
In the prison he regularly performed the services in a whisper and even administered the Eucharist, using cranberry juice instead of wine on the theory that wine being unavailable, the cranberry also was grown by the same gardener.
In another conversation Nikodim was told that in view of the prison conditions, he was worthless, nihil.
“‘I, nihil!’ Father Nikodim jumped of the plank-bed. ‘Who was is this who can turn me, a son of the Lord, his creature and besides that a priest, into a nihil. I was a priest, a priest I am. Look, by my entire form a priest!…In what respect am I not a priest? And again, I am a man, created in the image and likeness of God, and you say nihil, a void!’ Father Nikodim even spat to one side. ‘And my parish has not been taken away. Who deprives me of my parish? Here it is, my parish, see how it is,…three layers on both sides, what a rich parish!’
An accomplished raconteur, he regaled the prisoners with biblical stories. On one occasion when he was discovered by the guards during a Christmas service, he refused to break the rule that a service once begun may not be interrupted, and only gestured with his hands, persuading the guard to postpone the interruption.
