well...
Go, my good man, go.
And forgive me.
O Mother of God,
forgive this sinner,
save and keep me.
Give me and my brethren
health and strength.
May this day be joyful
and free of sin.
Forgive me,
Mother of God.
Preserve my faith
and multiply my love for Thee.
With my whole heart
have l sought thee, O Lord.
O Lord, grant remission
of their sins
unto all who have fallen asleep
in faith and the hope
of resurrection...
Father!
Take this. All homemade.
Please pray for my late husband.
He was killed
in the Great Patriotic War.
Have a seat, sister.
Let's have tea.
Sit down.
Now tell me your story.
He keeps coming to me in my sleep.
- What does he say?
- Nothing.
He just groans.
He must be feeling bad up there.
- Did you love him?
- l still do.
We'd been together only six months.
Then he was recruited.
l've been widowed for 30 years now.
Very well.
Given such love,
it'll do no harm to ask.
l'll go see Father Anatoly.
He is not a saint but well-read.
He may give some useful advice.
Come over here.
While l'm talking to him -
l'll open the door -
you stand here and listen.
Just be quiet.
- What's his name?
- Mikhail.
Father Anatoly,
a widow here asks you to pray
for the repose of
a fallen warrior Mikhail.
What an idea!
A requiem for the living!
How come?
She says he laid down his life
in battle in '44.
He laid down nothing.
He was captured.
After Victory
he stayed in France.
He's ailing now.
Wants to see his first,
beloved wife before he dies.
What are you doing here? Go away.
Did you hear?
No requiem for the living, he says.
Your man is alive but ailing.
You gotta go to France.
To comfort the ailing man
before he dies
and close his eyes.
Don't stare at me, do it.
What are you saying, Father?
Me? To France?
Why not? People live in France too.
lmpossible.
lt's a capitalist country.
They won't let me out.
Have no fear.
lf Father Anatoly says so,
they will.
But there's my household, my cow...
My pig needs to be slaughtered.
Sell it all, lock, stock and barrel.
- All?
- Lock, stock and barrel.
Sell it. You won't be sorry.
They'll give a lot of money
for your pig.
lt's a good pig.
lf l ate meat
l'd buy it.
l would.
You must be joking, Father.
Do you love your husband?
Then go and do
what was preordained.
Don't upset me, go!
Forgive me and have mercy!
Direct me on my way, O Lord!
For l am weak in soul.
And weak in body - yea!
And of sinful passions
Am l a vicious slave.
Can't you adjust the prop?
Your laundry's on the ground.
Not too many of you today.
What are you doing here?
Writing a petition
to our Heavenly King...
...to survive the winter.
lt's hard for brethren to cut
a grave through permafrost.
Thank God you're joking again,
l feared you'd gone mad.
Look, it's sailing.
Pray for me, Father Anatoly.
You should pray for me.
l'm three times as sinful as you.
What are you saying?
You don't like me, Father Job.
Filaret does, and you--
are trying to please him.
Why should l love you?
You never pass my cell
without a prank.
Now you soil the door handle,
now you plant some trash.
Don't l know about my sins
without your hints?
Okay...
Forget it, brother.
And forgive this sinner.
- Tired?
- No, no.
Fine.
- Let me carry you.
- No, l can manage.
- Careful.
- l can do it.
Yes, of course.
Careful.
Mind his leg!
He fell from a shed roof.
Broke his leg.
His hip is rotting now.
Four operations, but it didn't help.
We've seen all sorts of professors
and surgeons...
l'm hot, Mom.
The Father will help us.
No one is able to help
and his hip is rotting.
Sit down. You are tired.
- What's the boy's name?
- Vanechka.
This good man will help us.
Let's take the crutches away.
Get up,
l'll move the block a little.
Put him on the block.
- Don't be afraid.
- Won't it hurt him?
Hold him.
My angel...
Vanechka,
l'm going to pray to God.
You pray too,
in your own words.
Ask the Lord to heal your