The Three Hermits
[adapted]
by
Leo Tolstoy
A bishop was sailing on a ship from Arkhangelsk to Solovki. On the ship were pilgrims going to visit the saints. The wind was good, the sky was clear, and the ship did not rock much. Some of the pilgrims were lying down, some were eating, some sat in groups and talked.
The bishop also came out onto the deck and started walking back and forth along the bridge. He walked to the front of the ship and saw some men sitting together. A peasant was pointing at something in the sea and talking while the others listened. The bishop stopped to see what the peasant was pointing at. He could only see the sunlight shining on the water.
The bishop came closer and listened. When the peasant saw the bishop, he took off his cap and stopped talking. The others did the same—they took off their caps and greeted the bishop.
“Don’t worry, friends,” the bishop said. “I just came to hear what this good man is saying.”
“The fisherman is telling us about the hermits,” said a merchant, who was a little braver than the rest.
“What hermits?” asked the bishop. He walked to the side of the ship and sat on a box. “Tell me too. I’ll listen. What were you pointing at?”
“There’s an island shining over there,” said the peasant, pointing to the front and right. “Three hermits live there and pray to save their souls.”
“Where is the island?” asked the bishop.
“Follow my hand! See the small cloud? Below it and a bit to the left—you can see a line. That’s the island.”
The bishop looked and looked, but he only saw water sparkling in the sun. His eyes weren’t used to the sea, so he couldn’t see anything.
“I don’t see it,” he said. “What kind of hermits live there?”
“Holy men,” said the peasant. “I had heard about them for a long time, but I never saw them—until two summers ago.”
The fisherman told how he went to fish and got lost at sea. He landed on that island and didn’t know where he was. In the morning, he found a small hut made of earth. He saw one hermit, and then two more came out. They gave him food, helped dry his clothes, and fixed his boat.
“What kind of men are they?” asked the bishop.
“One is small and bent over. He is very old and wears an old robe. He must be over a hundred years old. His gray beard is turning green, and he always smiles. He looks bright, like an angel. The second is taller. He is also old and wears a torn coat. His wide gray beard has yellow in it. He is very strong—he turned my boat around like it was a tub, before I could help. He is also cheerful. The third man is very tall. His beard reaches his knees and is as white as snow. He is quiet and serious, with thick eyebrows over his eyes. He wears no clothes, only a belt made of rough cloth.”
“What did they tell you?” asked the bishop.
“They didn’t talk much,” said the peasant. “They mostly stayed quiet, and barely spoke to each other. When one looked up, the others seemed to understand him. I asked the tall man how long they had lived there. He frowned and mumbled something like he was angry. But the small hermit touched his arm and smiled, and the tall one went quiet. All the small hermit said was: ‘Have mercy on us,’ and he smiled.”
While the peasant was talking, the ship came closer to the island.
“Now you can see it clearly,” said the merchant. “Look there, your Reverence!” he said, pointing at the island.
The bishop looked up and saw a dark line in the sea—that was the island. He looked at it for a long time, then walked away from the front of the ship to the back, and went to speak with the helmsman.
“What is the name of that island?”
“That island has no name. There are many like it around here.”
“Is it true that some hermits are saving their souls there?”
“They say that, your Reverence, but I don’t know if it’s true. Fishermen say they’ve seen them. But fishermen often say things that aren’t true.”
“I would like to go to that island and see the hermits,” said the bishop. “How can I do that?”
“The ship can’t stop there,” said the helmsman. “You’d need a small boat. You should ask the captain.”
They called the captain.
“I want to see the hermits,” the bishop said. “Can you take me there?”
The captain tried to talk him out of it.
“It’s possible, but it will take time,” he said. “And, if I may say so, it’s not worth it. People say they are just silly old men. They don’t understand anything and don’t speak—just like fish.”
“I still want to go,” said the bishop. “I’ll pay you for your trouble. Please take me.”
It couldn’t be helped. The sailors moved the sails, and the helmsman turned the ship. They sailed toward the island. A chair was brought out for the bishop and placed at the front of the ship. He sat and watched. Everyone came to the front of the ship and looked at the island. People with good eyesight could see the rocks, and they pointed out the hut. One man said he could see the three hermits. The captain took out his spyglass, looked through it, and gave it to the bishop.
“That’s right,” the captain said. “There, on the shore, a little to the right of that big rock, three men are standing.”
The bishop looked through the spyglass and turned it to where the captain had pointed. He saw three men: one was tall, one was shorter, and the third was very small. They were standing on the shore, holding hands.
The captain came over to the bishop and said:
“This is as far as the ship can go, your Reverence. If you still want to visit them, you’ll need to go in a small boat. We’ll stay here and wait at anchor.”
They let out the ropes, dropped the anchor, took down the sails, and the ship stopped and rocked on the water. A boat was lowered, the rowers jumped in, and the bishop climbed down a ladder and sat on a bench in the boat. The rowers pulled the oars and headed toward the island. As they came closer, they could see the three men clearly: the tall man was naked, with only a mat around his waist; the next was wearing an old, torn coat; and the small, bent old man wore an old cassock. They were standing on the shore, still holding hands.
The boat reached the land and was tied up. The bishop stepped onto the shore.
The old men bowed to him. He blessed them, and they bowed even lower. Then the bishop spoke to them:
“I have heard,” he said, “that you live here as God’s hermits, saving your souls and praying to Christ our God for people. I am a humble servant of Christ, sent by God’s mercy to care for His people, and I wanted to see you, God’s servants, and teach you something if I can.”
The hermits stayed silent. They smiled and looked at each other.
“Tell me, how do you live and serve God?” the bishop asked.
The middle-sized hermit sighed and looked at the old, bent one. The old one smiled and said:
“We don’t know how to serve God, holy one. We just live.”
“Then how do you pray to God?”
The old hermit said:
“We pray like this: ‘You are three, and we are three—have mercy on us!’”
As soon as he said that, all three looked up at the sky and said together:
“You are three, and we are three—have mercy on us!”
The bishop smiled and said:
“You have heard about the Holy Trinity, but you don’t pray the right way. I like you, God’s hermits, and I see that you want to please God, but you don’t know how to serve Him. I will teach you—not in my own way, but from the Gospel. I will teach you how God wants all people to pray.”
Then the bishop began to explain how God had shown Himself to people. He told them about God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. Then he said:
“God the Son came to earth to save people and taught them to pray like this. Listen and repeat after me.”
The bishop said, “Our Father.” One hermit repeated, “Our Father.” The second said, “Our Father.” The third said, “Our Father.”
