Memories of Sister Nina – Part 3:

This is the Concluding Commentary about Sister Nina.

In the first issue - We discussed her chance encounter, many years ago, with a young college student. That encounter and continuing correspondence profoundly influenced that student. In time the student, herself, became Orthodox and a nun. She is now Mother Seraphima, the Abbess of Holy Nativity Convent.

In this final issue, through the eyes of Sister Nina’s daughter Irene, we shall momentarily gaze into Sister Nina’s private life.

Sister Nina, explains Irene (giving a little history), was the only daughter of well- known Opera singers. As a child she was raised in comfort on her family’s estate in Siberia.

She is remembered, in those days, as an unusually compassionate child. Although her station in life would have allowed her to behave rudely and with contempt towards the poor, she treated everyone with respect and kindness. She had a great love for people, all people.  As a young woman she attracted attention because of her physical beauty. She paid this no mind. Guided by her pious mother, she sought rather to enhance her inner beauty. In her later years, as a practice, she never looked in a mirror. “She had no idea how she looked” explains Irene. “It simply didn’t matter to her.”

When the Russian Revolution came, she and her family fled to Harbin China. Here her monastic spirit was kindled as she came to know individuals who, in later years, would influence many lives. These included St. John Maximovitch and Metropolitan Philaret.

At that time her parents constrained her from becoming a nun. Her mother told her that it was her duty to marry; indeed a husband had been selected: a fine Russian man from Harbin who had studied in the United States at Columbia University and was an American citizen. Thus, the marriage took place and in time a daughter “Irene” was born.

World War II found the young family in the Philippines. There Sister Nina’s husband, due to his citizenship, was placed in a Japanese Concentration Camp. Meanwhile, she and her daughter took refuge in the basement of a Catholic Church.

At the end of the war her husband was released from captivity. (He, himself, had endured starvation and weighed only 70 pounds.) The family then moved to San Francisco. Here he and Sister Nina separated, amicably but permanently.

For the next few years Sister Nina concentrated her efforts in supporting her daughter by teaching music and helping at the ‘Joy of All Who Sorrow’ Russian Cathedral, where she was both a Reader and the Choir Director.

At this time, she became the spiritual daughter of Archbishop Tikon, whose own spiritual father had been the well-known Elder Gabriel of the Pskov Caves. Vladika Tikon possessed a great spirit of asceticism and humility that he passed on to her.

During this period following World War II many people in the Western and Eastern Europe were suffering from hunger and exposure. She dedicated herself to helping in their relief.

“I remember that the entire basement of the Russian Cathedral being filled with ‘care’ packages” recalls Irene. “Mama and Archbishop Tikon would daily exhaust themselves preparing these heavy, burlap-bound parcels for shipping.”

This task, in fact, broke Archbishop Tikon’s health. Ultimately, due to his illness, was forced to retire to Jordanville Monastery where he died.

 After Vladika Tikon’s death, Archbishop Antony of Los Angeles came temporarily to San Francisco. There seeing Sister Nina’s piety, as well as her great sadness over the loss of her spiritual father, he urged her to return with him to Los Angeles - as a ‘house nun’ assigned to the Holy Transfiguration Cathedral. Since Irene was now an adult, she agreed.

Thus began the final three decades of Sister Nina’s life – dwelling in the shadow of the Russian Cathedral of Los Angeles under the omophorion of Archbishop Antony. (She seemed not to notice that her new home was a rundown apartment in a never quiet, deteriorating, crime and vice ridden section of Hollywood.)

“Welcome to my cave. This is where I live. This is where I pray,” she would chirp softly when Irene would come for visits. (Those visits grew more frequent and of longer duration as Sister Nina grew older and her health began to fail.)

Indeed, her little apartment was like a cave. Things, accumulated over many years, were stacked high, leaving only narrow dark passageways.

“Towards the end, with her approval, I began going through her things,” explains Irene. “Among the things I found were huge stacks of those cards you get in the mail - the ones that say ‘Have you seen us’ and have the picture of a missing child along with the picture of an adult believed responsible for the abduction of the child.”

It was apparent that Sister Nina prayed regularly for these persons…not just the children but also for the adults. She would study the pictures, using them as a means of making her prayer more fervent.

“Occasionally while cleaning I would come across pictures cut out of the newspapers” continues Irene. “Once, for example, from a Russian language paper, I found an ad which she had cut out, with the picture of the owner of a Garage.

“Mama, do you know this man?” I asked curiously.  ‘No’ she replied simply –‘but God does!’

“She arose each morning and began her prayers at about 7AM” explains Irene, describing briefly her mother’s schedule. “She would never eat until she had completed all of her prayers. This was usually at about noon.

“Sometimes while she was praying, she would pause and speak to me about the person for whom she was praying at that moment. She would say ‘you know this person (giving his or her name)’, and then relate something about that person and his or her needs.” Clearly, for her this was no rote recitation of names. She sincerely prayed for people and for their needs.

Filled with compassion, she took the woman to her apartment. She gave this woman her bedroom, while she slept on a thin mattress on the floor of her tiny living room. For the next two years the woman lived with her. Even after the woman moved out, when she would contact Sister Nina, she would refer to her as ‘the person who saved my life’.

Sister Nina had a great reverence for the Mother of God. Sometimes while praying she would pause and say to Irene: ‘Pray to the Mother of God. She will always help you.”

In her final days, perhaps sensing the time of her own departure, she would also impress upon Irene the importance of praying for those persons who had reposed.

“When we were preparing to eat, before sitting down, we would sing ‘Our Father’ and do the Sign of the Cross. Then we would sing ‘Memory Eternal’. After that we would prayerfully remember aloud the names of people who had died. (We wouldn’t read the names. We would simply say those we could call to mind.) This usually took about five minutes. I think she adopted this practice in remembrance of how, when people die, there is a memorial meal.

“When she was eating she never spoke” continues Irene. She would look straight ahead as if I was not there.

“I’m ashamed to say that at first this bothered me. But then, watching her, I came to believe that in her heart she was talking with God. After that I was content to watch her and not interfere.

After eating, during the remainder of the afternoon and evening, she would devote herself to performing quiet tasks, reading, listening to Church recordings and keeping up with correspondence. She had a number of people with whom she corresponded. She liked to cut out flowers and such from old greeting cards. She would use them to decorate the letters that she sent. Often the envelopes that she used were ones, which she recycled by turning them inside out. Her hands were never idle.

strength, but she was not judgmental and would never give advise. “When someone would demand that she give advise, she would say something that didn’t make much sense and sounded a little silly.”

“She was grateful for every little thing”, says Irene in conclusion. “She never took anything, even the smallest act of kindness, for granted. She would thank people immediately, saying quietly to me ‘I don’t want to forget the fresh thought in my heart of gratitude.’