I was a parishioner at the Russian Orthodox Church in Meudon, outside Paris, when Vladika John arrived there. He amazed us by reading people's thoughts. A woman came to our church, who had recently been widowed. She was thinking about entering an old people's home and wanted to talk to Vladika about something. The service ended, everyone approached to kiss the Cross. The woman also kissed the Cross, but disappeared to the back of the church, without having said anything to Vladika. Vladika asked her friend: "What is on that lady's mind? She wanted to talk to me."
In the Lesna Convent in Fourqueux, Mother Flaviana told me that they hadn't had rain for a long time, and their vegetable garden was drying up. Then Vladika John came; he served a moleben, went around the garden in procession, and it started to rain.
Mrs. Petukhov, who knew Vladika John from Shanghai, told me that Russian refugees from China lived on the island of Tubabao in tents. One morning, Vladika went around to all the tents and blessed them. That very night a typhoon raged through the island, but left them untouched.
After World War II, our Russian Church Abroad lost its church in Paris. As a result, not a single church of our jurisdiction remained in that city. The closest one was in Meudon. At first Bishop Nathaniel came there and, later, Vladika John. Vladika John established a temporary church in Paris, but he lived in Meudon with Father Alexander Trubnikov, and also in Versailles, and he would go to Paris to celebrate services.
Our church, dedicated to All Saints of Russia, consisted of two garages. Inside, it was cleanly painted and adorned with icons. Here Vladika John served. Also, the Grand Duke Vladimir Kyrillovich attended services here.
Not everyone loved and respected Vladika. Once, in Meudon, Vladika came out of the altar with the chalice, and when he pronounced the exclamation, a woman parishioner said something bad and immediately fainted. They took her out and brought her home. Never again did she say anything bad about Vladika.
Another time, at a sisterhood meeting, I heard a woman criticize Vladika. I protested, but seeing that my words had no effect, I said good-bye and left. Afterwards, I learned that the woman who had been so critical was on her way home from the meeting, when she stepped off the sidewalk into a stationary bus and broke her arm. She was for several days in the hospital. Her arm never did heal properly.
My husband was a taxi driver and often drove Vladika from Paris to Versailles and from Versailles to Paris. On these trips he never set the meter, so he lost time and money. And what happened? The first day he drove Vladika, a passenger left his account book behind, and my husband went to the address indicated in the book. It turned out that the book belonged to a shopkeeper and he was in great need of it. He was overjoyed to have it returned, and told his clerk to give the driver a box of his best oranges. And so it was that Vladika's ride was paid with a grand "tip." On another occasion, my husband received a box of fine chocolates…
Maria Skachkovskaya