Three Are Ye, Three Are We
best of stories reach their audience at a number of levels to allow for
differences in age, development, interests and aptitudes. That is
surely why great teachers like Jesus, “he did not say anything to them
(the crowd) without using a parable” (MT 13:34), relied on similes,
metaphors and allegories, legends, myths and sagas to get their
profound messages across.
On a drive through the mountains many
years ago, a friend read the following story by Leo Tolstoy to me. It
has stuck with me for almost twenty years now because of its poignant
message about the difference between speaking truth and living it.
recent reflection, the tale has suggested deeper meanings to me. Some
of which have astrological implications. They will open a discussion
for Astrology 101 next time and begin a slow, meandering introduction
to practical pictorial astrology.
This story is very visual
and suggestive, like the kind of astrology we will be investigating
piece by piece over the coming months. Invite your friends to join in
if you think they might enjoy the journey.
Now, let’s join the Bishop of Archangel on his own revealing travels!
Three Are Ye, Three Are We
AN OLD LEGEND CURRENT IN THE VOLGA DISTRICT (OF RUSSIA)
in praying use not vain repetitions, as the Gentiles do: for they think
that they shall be heard for their much speaking. Be not therefore like
unto them: for your Father knoweth what things ye have need of, before
ye ask Him.' MT 6:7-8.
A BISHOP was sailing from Archangel
to the Solovétsk Monastery; and on the same vessel were a number of
pilgrims on their way to visit the shrines at that place. The voyage
was a smooth one. The wind favourable, and the weather fair. The
pilgrims lay on deck, eating, or sat in groups talking to one another.
The Bishop, too, came on deck, and as he was pacing up and down, he
noticed a group of men standing near the prow and listening to a
fisherman who was pointing to the sea and telling them something. The
Bishop stopped, and looked in the direction in which the man was
pointing. He could see nothing however, but the sea glistening in the
sunshine. He drew nearer to listen, but when the man saw him, he took
off his cap and was silent. The rest of the people also took off their
caps, and bowed.
'Do not let me disturb you, friends,' said the Bishop. 'I came to hear what this good man was saying.'
'The fisherman was telling us about the hermits,' replied one, a tradesman, rather bolder than the rest.
hermits?' asked the Bishop, going to the side of the vessel and seating
himself on a box. 'Tell me about them. I should like to hear. What were
you pointing at?'
'Why, that little island you can just see over
there,' answered the man, pointing to a spot ahead and a little to the
right. 'That is the island where the hermits live for the salvation of
'Where is the island?' asked the Bishop. 'I see nothing.'
in the distance, if you will please look along my hand. Do you see that
little cloud? Below it and a bit to the left, there is just a faint
streak. That is the island.'
The Bishop looked carefully, but his unaccustomed eyes could make out nothing but the water shimmering in the sun.
'I cannot see it,' he said. 'But who are the hermits that live there?'
are holy men,' answered the fisherman. 'I had long heard tell of them,
but never chanced to see them myself till the year before last.'
the fisherman related how once, when he was out fishing, he had been
stranded at night upon that island, not knowing where he was. In the
morning, as he wandered about the island, he came across an earth hut,
and met an old man standing near it. Presently two others came out, and
after having fed him, and dried his things, they helped him mend his
'And what are they like?' asked the Bishop.
a small man and his back is bent. He wears a priest's cassock and is
very old; he must be more than a hundred, I should say. He is so old
that the white of his beard is taking a greenish tinge, but he is
always smiling, and his face is as bright as an angel's from heaven.
The second is taller, but he also is very old. He wears tattered,
peasant coat. His beard is broad, and of a yellowish grey colour. He is
a strong man. Before I had time to help him, he turned my boat over as
if it were only a pail. He too, is kindly and cheerful. The third is
tall, and has a beard as white as snow and reaching to his knees. He is
stern, with over-hanging eyebrows; and he wears nothing but a mat tied
round his waist.'
'And did they speak to you?' asked the Bishop.
the most part they did everything in silence and spoke but little even
to one another. One of them would just give a glance, and the others
would understand him. I asked the tallest whether they had lived there
long. He frowned, and muttered something as if he were angry; but the
oldest one took his hand and smiled, and then the tall one was quiet.
The oldest one only said: "Have mercy upon us," and smiled.'
While the fisherman was talking, the ship had drawn nearer to the island.
'There, now you can see it plainly, if your Grace will please to look,' said the tradesman, pointing with his hand.
Bishop looked, and now he really saw a dark streak -- which was the
island. Having looked at it a while, he left the prow of the vessel,
and going to the stern, asked the helmsman:
'What island is that?'
'That one,' replied the man, 'has no name. There are many such in this sea.'
'Is it true that there are hermits who live there for the salvation of their souls?'
it is said, your Grace, but I don't know if it's true. Fishermen say
they have seen them; but of course they may only be spinning yarns.'
'I should like to land on the island and see these men,' said the Bishop. 'How could I manage it?'
ship cannot get close to the island,' replied the helmsman, 'but you
might be rowed there in a boat. You had better speak to the captain.'
The captain was sent for and came.
'I should like to see these hermits,' said the Bishop. 'Could I not be rowed ashore?'
The captain tried to dissuade him.
course it could be done,' said he, 'but we should lose much time. And
if I might venture to say so to your Grace, the old men are not worth
your pains. I have heard say that they are foolish old fellows, who
understand nothing, and never speak a word, any more than the fish in
'I wish to see them,' said the Bishop, 'and I will pay you for your trouble and loss of time. Please let me have a boat.'
was no help for it; so the order was given. The sailors trimmed the
sails, the steersman put up the helm, and the ship's course was set for
the island. A chair was placed at the prow for the Bishop, and he sat
there, looking ahead. The passengers all collected at the prow, and
gazed at the island. Those who had the sharpest eyes could presently
make out the rocks on it, and then a mud hut was seen. At last one man
saw the hermits themselves. The captain brought a telescope and, after
looking through it, handed it to the Bishop.
'It's right enough. There are three men standing on the shore. There, a little to the right of that big rock.'
Bishop took the telescope, got it into position, and he saw the three
men: a tall one, a shorter one, and one very small and bent, standing
on the shore and holding each other by the hand.
The captain turned to the Bishop.
vessel can get no nearer in than this, your Grace. If you wish to go
ashore, we must ask you to go in the boat, while we anchor here.'
cable was quickly let out, the anchor cast, and the sails furled. There
was a jerk, and the vessel shook. Then a boat having been lowered, the
oarsmen jumped in, and the Bishop descended the ladder and took his
seat. The men pulled at their oars, and the boat moved rapidly towards
the island. When they came within a stone's throw they saw three old
men: a tall one with only a mat tied round his waist: a shorter one in
a tattered peasant coat, and a very old one bent with age and wearing
an old cassock -- all three standing hand in hand.
The oarsmen pulled in to the shore, and held on with the boathook while the Bishop got out.
old men bowed to him, and he gave them his benediction, at which they
bowed still lower. Then the Bishop began to speak to them.
have heard,' he said, 'that you, godly men, live here saving your own
souls, and praying to our Lord Christ for your fellow men. I, an
unworthy servant of Christ, am called, by God's mercy, to keep and
teach His flock. I wished to see you, servants of God, and to do what I
can to teach you, also.'
The old men looked at each other smiling, but remained silent.
'Tell me,' said the Bishop, 'what you are doing to save your souls, and how you serve God on this island.'
The second hermit sighed, and looked at the oldest, the very ancient one. The latter smiled, and said:
'We do not know how to serve God. We only serve and support ourselves, servant of God.'
'But how do you pray to God?' asked the Bishop.
'We pray in this way,' replied the hermit. 'Three are ye, three are we, have mercy upon us.'
And when the old man said this, all three raised their eyes to heaven, and repeated:
'Three are ye, three are we, have mercy upon us!'
The Bishop smiled.
have evidently heard something about the Holy Trinity,' said he. 'But
you do not pray aright. You have won my affection, godly men. I see you
wish to please the Lord, but you do not know how to serve Him. That is
not the way to pray; but listen to me, and I will teach you. I will
teach you, not a way of my own, but the way in which God in the Holy
Scriptures has commanded all men to pray to Him.'
And the Bishop
began explaining to the hermits how God had revealed Himself to men;
telling them of God the Father, and God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost.
the Son came down on earth,' said he, 'to save men, and this is how He
taught us all to pray. Listen and repeat after me: "Our Father."'
And the first old man repeated after him, 'Our Father,' and the second said, 'Our Father,' and the third said, 'Our Father.'
'Which art in heaven,' continued the Bishop.
first hermit repeated, 'Which art in heaven,' but the second blundered
over the words, and the tall hermit could not say them properly. His
hair had grown over his mouth so that he could not speak plainly. The
very old hermit, having no teeth, also mumbled indistinctly.
Bishop repeated the words again, and the old men repeated them after
him. The Bishop sat down on a stone, and the old men stood before him,
watching his mouth, and repeating the words as he uttered them. And all
day long the Bishop laboured, saying a word twenty, thirty, a hundred
times over, and the old men repeated it after him. They blundered, and
he corrected them, and made them begin again.
The Bishop did not
leave off till he had taught them the whole of the Lord's prayer so
that they could not only repeat it after him, but could say it by
themselves. The middle one was the first to know it, and to repeat the
whole of it alone. The Bishop made him say it again and again, and at
last the others could say it too.
It was getting dark, and the
moon was appearing over the water, before the Bishop rose to return to
the vessel. When he took leave of the old men, they all bowed down to
the ground before him. He raised them, and kissed each of them, telling
them to pray as he had taught them. Then he got into the boat and
returned to the ship.
And as he sat in the boat and was rowed to
the ship he could hear the three voices of the hermits loudly repeating
the Lord's prayer. As the boat drew near the vessel their voices could
no longer be heard, but they could still be seen in the moonlight,
standing as he had left them on the shore, the shortest in the middle,
the tallest on the right, the middle one on the left. As soon as the
Bishop had reached the vessel and got on board, the anchor was weighed
and the sails unfurled. The wind filled them, and the ship sailed away,
and the Bishop took a seat in the stern and watched the island they had
left. For a time he could still see the hermits, but presently they
disappeared from sight, though the island was still visible. At last it
too vanished, and only the sea was to be seen, rippling in the
The pilgrims lay down to sleep, and all was quiet on
deck. The Bishop did not wish to sleep, but sat alone at the stern,
gazing at the sea where the island was no longer visible, and thinking
of the good old men. He thought how pleased they had been to learn the
Lord's prayer; and he thanked God for having sent him to teach and help
such godly men.
So the Bishop sat, thinking, and gazing at the
sea where the island had disappeared. And the moonlight flickered
before his eyes, sparkling, now here, now there, upon the waves.
Suddenly he saw something white and shining, on the bright path which
the moon cast across the sea. Was it a seagull, or the little gleaming
sail of some small boat? The Bishop fixed his eyes on it, wondering.
must be a boat sailing after us,' thought he 'but it is overtaking us
very rapidly. It was far, far away a minute ago, but now it is much
nearer. It cannot be a boat, for I can see no sail; but whatever it may
be, it is following us, and catching us up.'
And he could not
make out what it was. Not a boat, nor a bird, nor a fish! It was too
large for a man, and besides a man could not be out there in the midst
of the sea. The Bishop rose, and said to the helmsman:
there, what is that, my friend? What is it?' the Bishop repeated,
though he could now see plainly what it was -- the three hermits
running upon the water, all gleaming white, their grey beards shining,
and approaching the ship as quickly as though it were not morning.
The steersman looked and let go the helm in terror.
'Oh Lord! The hermits are running after us on the water as though it were dry land!'
passengers hearing him, jumped up, and crowded to the stern. They saw
the hermits coming along hand in hand, and the two outer ones beckoning
the ship to stop. All three were gliding along upon the water without
moving their feet. Before the ship could be stopped, the hermits had
reached it, and raising their heads, all three as with one voice, began
'We have forgotten your teaching, servant of God. As
long as we kept repeating it we remembered, but when we stopped saying
it for a time, a word dropped out, and now it has all gone to pieces.
We can remember nothing of it. Teach us again.'
The Bishop crossed himself, and leaning over the ship's side, said:
'Your own prayer will reach the Lord, men of God. It is not for me to teach you. Pray for us sinners.
the Bishop bowed low before the old men; and they turned and went back
across the sea. And a light shone until daybreak on the spot where they
were lost to sight.
The Three Hermits by Leo Tolstoy (1886)