The ancient rock monasteries of Butuceni

It’s not easy for me to get up in the morning and do some back exercises. Then Tanja picks me up for breakfast. This time we have millet porridge with tomatoes, feta cheese, white bread and sweetened peppermint tea. Even though the food is simple, it tastes amazingly good. However, because of the resounding effect, we don’t touch the carafe of homemade cherry juice today. After breakfast, I try to write a few lines. But I’m so tired that I take a little rest in Tanja’s room. Hours later, Sister Domnina wakes us up for lunch. We literally shoot out of our beds. “I’m not surprised you’re so tired. You’ve been under a lot of tension for the last few weeks. You had to constantly watch your things and didn’t know what would happen the next day. Now, here in our monastery, you are safe and can let yourselves go. Your bodies are taking their toll. That’s why you have to sleep all the time. That is all right. Rest here so that you can continue your journey full of energy again. When I came here to the monastery eight years ago, I immediately worked a lot. I prayed a lot, slept little and didn’t realize how I was burning out. I wasn’t used to the monastery routine and collapsed. I was taken to hospital. I slept there for seven days and seven nights. I know what it’s like to be tired,” she tells us with a kind look in her eyes. “Father Andrew would like to show you the Butuceni monastery this afternoon. Would you like to?” “I’d love to,” we reply.

Immediately after a delicious lunch, we set off in an old VW bus. We speed along the Moldovan tarmac at 120 km/h towards the capital Chisinau. None of the occupants fasten their seat belts. Not common in Moldova. “Father Andrew is a good driver. He drives fast but safely,” assured sister Domnina. Relying on God’s protection, I watch the passing landscape. We are joined on the bus by Sister Domnina, four convent guests we don’t know and the priest’s wife. Sister Domnina explains to us; “An Orthodox priest can be married and have children. As already mentioned, Father Andrew had already embarked on a career in the military before becoming a priest. So he had a normal family life. Now as a priest, of course, he still lives with his wife. His son is a monk in a Romanian monastery. As a monk, you are not allowed to have a spouse, just like us nuns. Total sexual abstinence applies. Nuns and monks dedicate their lives to God, Jesus Christ and the faith. Monks are also allowed to become priests. However, the same law applies to a monk-priest as to a monk. Father Andrew, however, is not a monk.”

Water and honeydew melons are offered on the street. Father Andrew stops his bus and buys a few of them. I am not allowed to pay. Then we take a break in the shade of some trees. A blanket is spread out on which we sit down and all enjoy the juicy melons together. While Father Andrew discusses politics with the passengers and the communism that is still represented by the government in this country, Sister Domnina tells us something about church history. We learn that the various church leaders were at loggerheads over matters of faith from the very beginning and that the unity between the Eastern and Western churches, i.e. the Catholic and Orthodox churches, finally broke down in 1054 after several schisms (divisions) and unions. Later I read that the Roman Catholic Church is the largest Christian church in the world, with over a billion members. More than half of all Christians belong to it. The community of Orthodox churches includes just under 10 percent of Christians, i.e. around 190 million believers, and the evangelical churches or communities (Protestants) probably have just under 400 million believers, which is around 20 percent of Christianity.

The journey continues to the capital Chisinau. Two 25-storey apartment blocks have been built to the left and right of the main road. They are intended to symbolize the entrance to the metropolis. Although we can only get a brief impression, we are pleasantly surprised. There are lots of stores, parks, churches and nice restaurants. The people here are also friendly. Chisinau was first mentioned in documents in the 15th century. In the 16th century, the Turks conquered the city and in 1812, after the Russo-Turkish wars, it was annexed by Russia. In 1918, Chisinau and the rest of Bessarabia went to independent Romania, only to be reconquered by the Soviet Union in 1940. During the Second World War, it was occupied by German troops who killed the majority of the Jewish inhabitants. After the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991, Chisinau became the capital of independent Moldova. Today, the metropolis is said to be populated by almost one million people.

After a long drive, our VW bus rattles over a mountain ridge. A beautiful valley opens up before our eyes. Green fields line a river that meanders through this idyll. In the middle of this cultivated hollow, an earthy runnel stretches its back upwards. We can see two church towers on the narrow ridge. They belong to the historic rock monastery of Butuceni. “This was all under water once. You can see it later from the mountains covered in shells. Can you see the holes in the rock face over there?” explains and asks Father Andrew as we approach the unconventional mountain range. “Up to 400 monks have lived there since the 14th century. They lived their entire earthly existence in such a cave, which they dug themselves with their own hands and simple tools. It was only when the communists closed many monasteries in 1960 and waged their war against the Orthodox Church that the last monks moved away,” we hear.

Then father Andrew misuses the old VW bus as an off-road vehicle and shoots us over hill and dale, ditches and crevices up an incline that gives me the shivers. It goes past a considerable abyss. The bus coughs and splutters. The engine howls, wants to stop working and die off, but father Andrew squeezes the last drop out of the German-built machine. “It’s a fantastic vehicle. If VW knew that the old things were doing us such a fantastic service, they would certainly advertise them,” laughs father Andrew loudly, delighted with the reliability of the bus. We arrived at the top in one piece. To be honest, I would have had a hard time thinking about the driveway even with a four-wheel drive vehicle. But what was it called? “Father Andrew is a good driver. He drives fast but safely.” Well, I can testify to that now. We park the off-road vehicle and walk to the entrance of the monastery. It used to be impossible for the uninformed to find. It was hidden behind boulders and rock massifs. Today, a small church tower stands above it and a staircase leads us down into the darkness. When we arrive at the main grotto, a church service is taking place. The priest’s prayer echoes off the walls. A woman sings. The atmosphere is mystical and pleasant. There are no visitors next to us. The beautiful, colorful Orthodox holy pictures and icons hang on the walls everywhere. Candles light up the gloom and make it seem almost a little romantic. Colorful carpets lie on a rough wooden floor. A woman stretches out on a stool and cleans one of the images of saints. There are more candles, pictures, a handleless knife and an oil lamp flickering in the breeze on a table. A potest is used to offer small pictures of saints, plastic crosses, candles and blessed oils for sale. After the service, we descend into the chambers of the monks who sacrificed their lives to God and prayer here. The temperature is pleasant, around 20 degrees. We can only move around bent over, the room height is so low. Each of the rock chambers only has a small area of around three to four square meters. Just enough space to sleep and sit in. “Look at the shells on the floor and on the walls. They prove that everything here was once below sea level,” says father Andrew. We leave the chambers and go outside. There we are greeted by a ledge carved into the rock. Corridors also carved into the rock run from one cave complex to another. “Only for mountaineers,” warns our father Andrew. From here, the rock dwellings look like a Stone Age settlement. Chains still dangle a few meters down from some of the holes. “The hermits never left the caves and were fed by the inhabitants of the nearby village. They used pulleys to transport water and bread from the valley to the top,” Sister Domnina translates Father Andre’s explanation. We are impressed. What a life these people have led. “Must have been very unhealthy,” I say. “Oh where from. The hermit monks often lived to be over a hundred years old,” replies Father Andrew. The woman who was singing moments ago suddenly joins us on the ledge. Some flower pots stand on the edge. The woman takes a sip of water from a cup and immediately pours it over the flowers with loud noises. “German technology,” jokes father Andrew dryly. Sister Domnina and we burst out laughing at the priest’s joke.

As the sun bathes the valley in a fiery red light with the last of its power, we make our way back. After half an hour, Father Andrew stops the monastery bus at the side of the road. We eat melons and some dry sweet pastries. “If you like, Father Andrew would be happy to tell you the story of how the construction of the church came about,” says Sister Domnina. “But yes, we would be very interested in that,” we reply.

How the foundations of the church came about “Well, I had no idea where we were going to get the money to start building and survive the next few weeks. The monastery was still small and relatively unknown. Donations were and still are not sufficient in any way. But we urgently needed a larger church. Our small chapel had long since run out of space to offer the faithful a place to pray. If our monastery was to survive, a larger church was urgently needed. I had prayed a lot and asked God what I should do. But I didn’t get a plausible idea. Until the day I decided to load my trunk full of Moldavian wine and drive to Moscow. There are many rich monasteries and churches there. They need wine for their services. They prefer Moldovan wine because of its good quality and sun-ripened taste. Unfortunately, only a few bottles can be imported into Russia. Importing larger quantities is strictly forbidden. But as I was on my way to build a new church, I took the risk. So I drove to Moscow in my car. It was already winter, November or December I think. I crossed the border unscathed and arrived in Moscow on a Saturday evening. As priests have to go to church to pray on Saturday, I went to the first one I could find. I knelt down and prayed for the success of my mission. The priest in charge of the church noticed me and started a conversation with me. “Where are you from? And what are you doing in Moscow?” he wanted to know, whereupon I told him my story. “Do you have somewhere to stay for the night?” he asked, which is why I told him I wanted to sleep in the car. “No, you’ll freeze to death in the car. Please be my guest,” he invited me into his home. On Sunday I drove on with my trunk full of wine to visit the monastery that would buy it. I wanted to be back with my host on Monday. In the meantime, my host priest was on the phone to a rich acquaintance. He had prayed to find a monastery in need of help for his donation. “I’ve got someone for you. He’ll be back on Monday,” he told his friend. As the processing of my business took longer than planned, I couldn’t be back on Monday. I only arrived on Tuesday and heard from the man who had been waiting for me. I was a little disappointed. Unfortunately, I had missed it. But the priest called him and told him about my return. The businessman immediately drove to the church and was delighted to see me. Of course, I was also very pleased that the meeting went ahead after all. We talked for a long time. I told him about my dream of building a church. He smiled at me, reached into his left trouser pocket and pulled out a bundle with 2,500 U$ dollars which he solemnly handed over to me. I could hardly believe my luck. I went to Moscow to sell a trunk full of wine and now I suddenly had 2,500 U$ dollars in my hands. I thanked the donor very much and promised to start building as soon as the weather would allow. He laughed. He was obviously relieved and talked to me again for a long time. Then he suddenly reached into his right trouser pocket and pulled out another bundle of U$ 2,500 to put it in my hand again. Without a doubt, this was the funding for the foundation. I was sure of that.

Later, my current boyfriend told me why he didn’t give me the 5,000 U$ dollars all at once.” “Why not?” I wanted to know. “Because I wanted to be sure that the money was invested properly in your monastery. I wanted to see how you reacted to the first 2,500 dollars. You convinced me,” was his answer. He was relieved after the conversation. He had been praying for a long time to find a project like ours. He didn’t want to support a rich monastery. So the construction could begin. Only ½ year later he visited us and was amazed that we had finished the entire foundation for the church for only 5,000 dollars.

Where the wood for the church roof truss came from “Later, we needed a lot of wood. Again I had a problem. There is no wood in Moldova. All the forests are now protected and may no longer be felled. The wood that is used to build houses today comes from Russia, Ukraine and Romania. Wood from Russia is very expensive. So I was desperate. Where were we going to get the wood for our church? I prayed to Stephen the Great because of his honesty, peacefulness, bravery and intelligence and because he had a monastery built after every successful war campaign. Stephen the Great was king from 1457 to 1502 and successfully defended our country against the constantly invading Turks. Out of a total of 47 wars, he won 44 for Moldavia. He had a monastery built after every campaign he won. Many of his monasteries still stand today. In Ukraine, Bulgaria, Romania and even a small one on Mount Athos in Greece. I got back in the car to visit the Putna monastery in Romania where he is buried. I prayed there. This time too, the priest in charge of the monastery noticed me and asked me where I was from and what I was doing here. “I’m praying to Stephen the Great,” I said. “Is there anything I can do for you?” he wanted to know. “No,” I said. “But everyone has a wish. Don’t you have one?” he persisted. “I need wood for our monastery,” I reported somewhat meekly, as I was well aware of the magnitude of my wish. The head priest immediately sent for the monk in charge of the monastery’s forestry and told him about my request. Many monasteries in Romania own large estates and huge forests. They are rich. And although it is not usual for one monastery to help another, the miracle happened. The monk organized a whole truck full of wood and had the valuable cargo brought to Moldova. We are now friends with the monastery and have already received seven truckloads from them. We now have enough wood for the roof trusses and important carvings that a church needs.” “And is your church funded now?” I want to know. “No, not by a long shot. We’ve been building for over three years and there’s still a lot missing. You’ve seen that. But with God’s help, we’ll get there,” he laughs confidently and we drive off into the night.

Suddenly we are stopped by the police. “You were driving too fast, Father,” says the officer with his stick in his hand. The money collection stick that Moldovans make a lot of jokes about. Father Andrew laughs benevolently. “Your papers and driver’s license, please,” the policeman demands in a friendly manner. “Please take a look at the radar image,” the road policeman then asks the father to get out of the car. “We’ve only had radar monitoring in Moldova since last year. Since the police have had it, they proudly show everyone how much they have exceeded the speed limit,” explains Sister Domnina in the meantime. It doesn’t take long for father Andrew to get into the car, cheerful as ever. “So, how much did it cost?” I want to know so I can take the punishment. “Nothing. As a rule, they don’t take money out of a priest’s pocket. He’ll visit us in the monastery one day. Maybe he wants us to pray for him. I told him that if he writes a report, I’ll have to drive even faster afterwards to make up the time,” he laughs, turns the ignition key and drives on through Moldova at night.

We look forward to your comments!