E.T.Hahn 1915.aastal.
At the beginning of February 1872, a young pastor Traugott Hahn took up his duties in the army of the Valjala congregation in Saaremaa, to whom he was the first job. Although the working hours in Valjala remained quite short, as already in 1874 he was invited to the Rõuge congregation in southern Estonia, since then it is possible to get an idea today, thanks to the memoirs written by T. Hänni.

Elieser Traugott Hahn was born on July 15, 1848, as the third child of the missionary family in Komacha, South Africa. Carl Hugo Hahn (1818 Adazhi - 1895 Cape Town), a family from a manor tenant near Riga, and his wife from London, began studying at a mission center in Barmen, Rhine, after graduating from the Riga School of School and Gymnasium to go to mission in Africa.

The father worked from 1841 to 1872 as a missionary in South West Africa, although he did not succeed in the first few years. From 1873 he worked as a pastor in Cape Town. Traugott Hahn came to Europe for the first time in 1853, when his parents visited the mission center in Barmen, Germany, and stayed in London for a short time with their mother and grandparents in Riga. In 1855, the parents left Africa again, leaving four children in Germany.

Traugott Hahn started his school trip in 1855 in Bielefeld, where he moved to Gütersloh after a year and a half. Gütersloh was later named Hahn as his childhood home.

From 1860 to 1863, the parents of T. Hahn also stayed in Gütersloh to go back to Africa. Graduated from upper secondary school in 1867, Traugott Hahn began his studies of theology in Berlin in the same year, which he exchanged with the University of Tartu in August 1867. The reason for this was the proposal from Uncle Guido Hahn from Riga to train him at his own expense in Tartu.

For the first time in Estonia, Traugott Hahn planned to return to Germany at the latest a year and a half later, but God had a second path for him. T. Hahn stayed until the end of the university studio in Tartu and, in 1870 - 1871, passed the pilot year with Pastor Carl Peter Maurachri in Põltsamaa. Practically these years were his first contact with the Estonian language and Estonians at all.

During his studies, Traugott Hahn also met his future husband, Põltsamaa from the Kursi parish, the manor-owner of the manor Daniel Paling and his wife, Amalie Katharina, who was the oldest daughter of Rosalie (23 X 1850 Tartu kama. Station m. - 5. I 1905 Tallinn). . The course congregation teacher Carl Toepffer sang in Saduküla on January 1, 1872, shortly after blessing Traugott Hahn's pastor's office, held on December 19, 1871 in St. John's Church in Tartu.

The first workplace of the young soul was the Saaremaa Valjala congregation, where it served for two and a half years. Then, until 1886, T. Hahn worked as a pastor of Rõuge; after his departure as a teacher of the Oleviste congregation in Tallinn, he was succeeded by Rõuges Rudolf Kallas. In the years of Tallinn, T. Hahn was the leader of the "St. John's Society" and the German Society for the promotion of an internal mission in 1906.

In 1915 he was one of the pastors sent to settle in Siberia. In 1917, he returned from Yeniseisk to Estonia, and he took part in the activities of the German Land Council, which aimed to merge the local areas with the German state.

When political conditions changed, T. Hahn left in 1918. In November 1939, he died in Hannover, Burgdorf, Germany, on 19 March 1939. Traugott Hahn was buried in the cemetery of the Tallinn Oleviste parish next to his wife.

Twelve children were born in Traugott and Rosalie Hahn's marriage, two of the oldest sons born on Saaremaa died in infancy.

The fate of the third-born son Gotthilf Traugott Hahn (born in 1875 in Rõuge), who was murdered by Bolsheviks on January 14, 1919, was also tragic. He had studied theology in Tartu and Göttingen, worked as an adjunct in 1899 - 1902 - as a pastor with his father in Tallinn; received in 1902 Professor of Historical Religion at the University of Tartu and in 1909. he was a professor of practical religion and was also a teacher of the University congregation. Many of the other children of this family also became the father of the same agency, and in Germany, the descendants of the church still exist today.

Elieser Traugott Hahn began writing his memories in 1905 after his wife's death. As the children of the memorial book depicted in the memoir of the memorial book, the father began to make remembrance with his mother's body while watching. During the remaining fifteen years in Estonia, T. Hahn was able to write a fairly thorough narrative of his life: from studies and youth decorations to the rigorous fate of the mature age, without having to print firmly on memories.

Very extensive description of personal life and family events, which is needed very well.
Although T. Hahn was a Baltic German, he had a fairly good position as a remote viewer for a circle and youth who had been away from the Baltics, and many such vendors were in sight. A very detailed description of the circumstances is characterized by the high level of historical accuracy and explanation of the then thought and mentality. Copyright is great to do if they are fulfilled.

The part concerning the Saaremaa decision covers only a hundred-page fourth chapter of a 500-page book.

B) a býtna začetného v článku 3 ods.

Traugott Hahn's memories of the publication appeared two times. First, in 1922, in two parts, the headlines were all "Aus meiner Jugendzeit" and "Erinnerungen aus meinem Leben. Haus und Amt". The recollection of the second edition of the memoirs ("Lebenserinnerungen") was published in 1940.

First translation.



The end of the pilot year was now approaching. Just a few more weeks left. Then I learned that "Estonia's best congregation" - Jõhvi is vacant. It seemed to me that I, without any bloody candidate with any experience of spiritual care and church management, with a very good knowledge of the Estonian language, can apply for around 11,000 spiritual churches. But as my mother wanted it, I imagined Baron Maurice Girard de Soucanton to be the patron of Jõhvi Church. In the next post, I received a reply that Baron has no right of invitation as in Livonia, but only a right of proposal. The Patron also has the right to nominate a candidate. Their candidate is the son of a pastor, now a dead pastor.

He, Baron Girard, takes my message with joy and asks me to preach Jõhvi on the first Sunday in September. And so Baron Girard received me very kindly, but the old Prince Vogt Lüganus, who led the election, was right and cold in my mind. Of course, he stood on the side of the lost pastor's son. Later, at the electoral conference, he had simply pulled me out of the list as "unauthorized" because I had to finish the trial year on the trial day. But the election day had already finished the trial year.
However, until today, I am grateful to the old preacher for obstructing my election in Jõhvi. If I were a young, totally inexperienced man in the 11,000 - spiritual congregation chosen as the teacher of Jõhvi, I would inevitably have acquired a mechanical, superficial way of working, not to mention anything else.

I returned to Saduküla. Just a few weeks. In October, I traveled to St. Petersburg with Louis Schröder to look for a job, also to look at work as a religious teacher. When I came back in a few weeks, I had a letter from Saaremaa among others. Baron Eugen Buxhöwden, owner of the Lööne Manor in the Valjala parish, where he was a parish priest, wrote to me that the post of Valjala pastor has been vacant since December 1870. The current attempts to fill have remained unsuccessful. He asked if I would like to receive an invitation to Valjala. If this is the case, he will ask for an answer as soon as possible or even better - come up with a trial interview, as from November the strait threatens to become an insurmountable barrier. The church is small, about 3,000 souls; about 700 rubles a year for teacher income, but life is cheap too.

After a short talk with Lalla's parents, we decided to follow this invitation and I set myself ready for the trip immediately. Again, the dear parents were the ones who gave all the means for the long journey. Since the season was already pretty late (was already November), I didn't write to Baron Buxhöwden anymore, but I immediately set off.

I can't remember exactly what path I chose. The road began to freeze already. The postcard bench shook me thoroughly; at that time the carts were only in exceptional cases with springs. But I didn't think about the amenities. Without going to sleep any night. Up to the strait in Virtsu I had left about 280 kilometers behind. Saduküla's horses had brought me up to Vändran, 93 kilometers away. However, I was moving on a poor road, and from time to time waiting for the horses I was slower than I had hoped. I was already sleeping on Saturday night when I reached the Great Strait.

Only in the early morning, after a short vacation at the post office, I stepped into the boat to drive across the strait. The stars were still shining in the clear sky. The sea was slightly foggy at the three frosts, and quiet. In the event of complete lullabies, you have to ride, about nine kilometers.

Drying I came to the land. The short, heavy logs filled with granite blocks filled with granite blocks, which had to be able to withstand the autumn wave and the winter ice banks, stood on a stone's obelisk with a clipped Saaremaa coat of arms: a cucumber that keeps an arch of sandwich between the beak, thus depicting both names in Estonian on the island. "Kuressaare" means "Kure Island" and "Saaremaa" means "Island land" (may also be translated as an island).

Under the coat of arms or coat of arms, "Das Wort Gottes bleibt Ewigkeit" and below: "Glov der Ritterschaft in Ösel und Wyk."

The gray stone pillar impressed me deeply. How much later have I thought about this early morning dawn!

While I was drinking coffee at the seafront post office building and the horses were pre-applied, the sun rose. Trapping the tragedy, the small, beautiful and fiery local horses took me through the Muhu Island, nineteen kilometers wide. The road, a slightly raised road made of the best gravel, was smooth as the table - more beautiful than the best shosseed. Flat like a plate, a small island of Muhu, just rising in the middle. At its highest point was an ancient church with a steep roof and a small brush tower.

The ride over a small, three-kilometer-wide strait was marvelous. Water hardly flickering in the sunshine. On the clear, luminous mirror surface, beautiful ice crystals were appearing everywhere like loops connected to each other.

I think the clock was already eleven when I left Orissaare, a post office in Saaremaa. Thirty kilometers to travel to Valjana. Of course it was impossible to reach the worship service yet. I did not travel by post, but soon went to small churches. Deep silence and loneliness fell on the earth. On the left, on a flat hollow, the height of the old powerful Pöide church.

Soon I didn't see any villages, no houses. The abandoned plain was rather nude. There were already clear ice on the ditches and meadows; a frosty birch and grass and pasture gray grass, as well as light circular juniper bushes covered the light frost. There were no houses, no people, in kilometers. The horses trotted slowly along the rough road. Even today, I feel the peculiar mood of the landscape, how it gradually grabbed me. So this land had to be home to me and Lalla! I can't say I had the fear of it; but everything was as mild melancholy.

The sun was already shining when I saw the height of the trees above the tower of Valjala church. It was set aside, as my way led to Luke, the Buxhöwden Manor. Through the broad stone-enclosed pastures, over the sharp bumps, I drove into the manor and stopped in front of a beautiful, but not big mansion, in front of which the fields were spread between the stone fences and a small park behind.
At the door, I was greeted by a gray-haired friendly-looking servant. Immediately after my announcement, Baron Eugen Buxhöwden, the chairman of the Valjala church, came to the hall and greeted me very warmly, my hands stretched out to me.
Long, beautiful with slender body, from over six feet, with lush whiskers, centered in dark brown hair.

His greeting was warm and pleasant, openly expressing my joy of coming. Of course, the reason for this was not my person. But the Valjala congregation had been vacant for a whole year, and I was the first candidate to accept her invitation at all. His letter had already gone three weeks ago when I was in St. Petersburg. And since there was no response from me, Baron Buxhöwden had almost lost hope that something could come from this invitation. The greater his joy was that instead of a written answer and my further inquiries, I had come to myself for a long time. With that I immediately won full support.

As Baron Buxhöwden soon found out when I was talking that I was ready to accept the invitation with Valjala, we agreed that he would let the community know that a trial interview was scheduled for the next Sunday and that a church convention would be held right after the service. During the week, he and I wanted to go to the superintendent of Saaremaa in Kuressaare, the old head teacher Hesse. With great pleasure, Baron Buxhöwden noted that I had become a good tuner from Germany for the Brotherhood and belonged to the Unionist rather than the old-fashioned, strictly confessional side in a confessional sense. It was also part of my Gütersloh upbringing that remained in the area of ​​the united Prussian church.

The days spent in the loser were very cozy and day by day I became more and more friends with the Buxhöwden couple. I worked diligently on my Sunday sermon while taking the Estonian-language worship as an old sermon, revised by Puurmani's old Lampson.

The journey to Kuressaare, 26 kilometers from Lönen, was very interesting for me because I saw another big part of Saaremaa, especially because I learned about the old superintendent Hesse, who greeted me very kindly as a future brother.

So everything in Saaremaa was nice and friendly. I also liked the little parchment with a friendly roof and an ancient church with its powerful vaults. Only one thing worried me and even more about Buxhöwden: a three-degree cold, with a complete lull, quietly staying all week. How do I get across the strait to the mainland?
In such a weather, the Little Strait (between Saaremaa and Muhu) can freeze without carrying people, let alone horses. Then there is a barrier in front of you!
I noticed how Buxhöwden's worry grew every day. Then it was decided that I would drive on Sunday, just after the worship and the congressional session, so after the election, I would hit Horses at the Little Strait of Orissaarde, if possible, to go over to Muhu the same evening. The great strait was undoubtedly still free.

That's how Sunday arrived. The great old church was full of space, although there was room for nearly 2,000 people, and the whole Valjala, with the old and the children, could at best count 3500 souls. Exceptionally, all the churches had come to the church on foot, as was certain in Saaremaa.
Only mothers with small children who were brought to baptism traveled to the church, otherwise not one person.

However, I preached a completely different feeling than in Jõhvi. In Valjala I stood before the church, of whom I already knew he was calling me. This was also shown by all the church elders (they were called "rat masters" in Saaremaa) before the worship was fully open to me. So I preached to the church I had to become a pastor. It gave this worship, to this sermon, a mood for me, seriousness and solemnity, as on the day of indulgence.

A simple, very attentive congregation immediately became loved by me as the "own" future church. I had the feeling that the inner nomination, the inner contact with the congregation, was already done in the church, during the worship: that the subsequent electoral congregation was just a formality to affirm what people had created as a connection between church and church in the church. I have never felt this feeling in my later life, either in Rõuge or Tallinn.

After the election congress that all the rat masters took part in, they all gathered with little Germans around me to push me and ask them to come to them as soon as possible.
There was a short farewell to Lövne Buxhöwden, and I drove to the strait already on the night of a dusky short Novembrip. My study time was over, work was waiting in front of the door.

COLLECTION. Ordination and Weddings

The electoral convent in Valjala was over. I was unanimously elected as the teacher of the Valjala congregation. Now the road led to a home in the dark afternoon, Saduküla. In a frozen way, a small cart trembled. And yet it didn't distract my thoughtful and dreaming heart from the deepest, most serious joy.

Now I had reached the first great goal of my life. God had entrusted the church with me. That's where my life could start. All that had been done so far was preparation for this great task. Therefore, all the work done so far was never taken with all my heart. Now I had to start the work I got and wanted to dedicate my life and my love.

For the human souls, I could work, with the holy right to take part in their joy and grief. I looked at the houses and villages with a second glance, through which I drove through the darkness and loneliness of the evening darkness. All of them put my heart on a tremble. It was now my "church".

For the first time, I had a real sense of homeland again: a connection to a particular piece of land, the compatibility of my life with people in a certain place. At one time they had become closer to me than all the other people in the world except my most beloved in Saduküla and Africa. It is wonderful to feel such new, sacred lives! [- - -]

The moon rose. It was almost a month. On the post-road, the road was smooth. At 7 o'clock, I reached Orissaard, a post station on the Väine Strait.
Then a painful blow came! The little strain has been completely insuperable since yesterday, the ice is so thin that it doesn't carry. Two days ago the post had arrived, but it is no longer possible. Such a cold cold can go on for at least the whole day before the strait becomes overrun. But then there is already a danger that there will be so much ice on the shores of the Great Strait that it will no longer be overcome. At my request, station manager Wernhoff decided to ask the mailman whether there was a trolley that would take me over the strait.

After a long meeting, four [young] men were found who agreed to take a walk over the ice in a bright moonlight. What madness it was, I could not guess at that time - otherwise I would not have endangered my own life and that of my four strangers.

When the moon rose, the young men called me; meanwhile, they were all ready. There was a tiny handstand on the shore. Two long bars were placed under the feet, and a 20-foot rope was attached to the carriage, hanging on both sides. The sled was followed by a long-lined man. They put my travel equipment on a sled and put me on it. Then take a quick ride, but so they slid on the ice and didn't raise their feet.

Two men moved forward, as far apart as possible. The third pushed behind the bar. And in front of him, the boy went to the rail with a sharp rope, with his sharp tip constantly pushing him to try his strength. Often, water splashed out of the ice after the blow. Apparently the ice was so thin that the iron got through it.

After a while, I felt a special silent twitch underneath. I asked [its] about its escorts who still moved silently. Only the first one gave consistently quite orders, with words and cries that were incomprehensible to me. After that, we didn't just move straight, but with different stories. One replied: the ice is so thinner from the shore that it hangs under the load; but that doesn't mean anything, because in the autumn the young ice is very tough and doesn't break so easily.

After a while, the driver sounded a short warning. They paused in the eye, like a deep breath, but only at a glance. The ice was too thin to stand still. But then they moved so fast as the sliding step promised. As if holding their breath, they slid further. After about 50 to 60 steps, the speed was reduced. I got an answer to my question that there was a gap across the strait and now it was as fast as possible to cross the very thin edges of the ice to prevent them from breaking. The ice is barely half an inch thick. Inadvertently, I thought of "Riding over Lake Constance".

Three kilometers were left behind. They seemed to me indefinitely long. Already near Muhu beach. Then the same warning cry was sounding again. Now I knew what that meant. And knowing that the five human lives are at their greatest risk, put my heart down. When I was constantly asking God to keep us, now more. And we were also happy over the other crack. We barely reached the shore in ten minutes. From the deep bottom of the heart, four young men shouted, "Thank God!" It was seen that the thing was more dangerous than they had thought.

What I had to pay for them, I can't remember that anymore. Anyway, it had no connection with the fact that they had endangered their lives. But they didn't take any kopecks any more than they had agreed. They helped me to borrow a farm horse through Muhu to Kuivaste to drive to the Great Strait. I don't know when they returned home; be sure to have some more solid ice. I drove through the moonlight to Kuivastya with a grateful heart.

The next morning I went over the Great Strait, and I went back to Tallinn's Saduküla village, where everyone was longing for a longing. I myself learned of a big decision.

T.Hahn abikaasa Rosaliega 1872.a.In fact, the Saaremaa Conservatory, which still existed at that time, had the right to ordain me. But there were still many obstacles to overcome.
First "canonical age". According to the law of the Church, it was only at the age of 25 that one could take office, which was quite early for a responsible office. But I was only 23 years old! Thus, the Minister had to be asked to grant a derogation. In addition, all Saaremaa congregations were so-called "crown churches". This means: because of the large number of crown manors in Saaremaa, the minister actually had the right to patronize churches. But he did not use it, but had passed the electoral right to the Convention, but with the condition of calling "rat masters", s. t. Estonian parishioners. The Ministry had reserved the right to confirm the choice.

So it had to be asked. However, according to past experience, this could be a lot to take. That is why Saaremaa Consortium offered another way. First, they were only asked to abandon the canonical age requirement for appointment, and it was then decided to hire me as a "Valjala Vikaar with the right to use income" until the Minister approves it. And to save me from a trip to the ordinance of Saaremaa, as well as from returning to weddings, the Livonian Consistory had to make an ordination instead of Saaremaa.

It all took time now. We were very pleasant in Saduküla. My mother-in-law had a lot to do with preparing her first daughter's dowry, and glad that they didn't have to give her Lilla so quickly. And I had to get to know the Church Law immediately before the ordination.

But more was my heart a second question. I had seen in Valjala and heard that it was the headquarters of the Saaremaa Brotherhoods. The deacon lived in the pastorate of the three verstas (a little over a kilometer away), who oversaw the prayer houses of all the brotherhoods in Saaremaa. And those prayer houses had a great impact at that time. There were seven such prayer houses alone in the relatively small Valjala parish, among them the most respected Saaremaa in Kogula, the Hague Farm, whose master (who was also a peasant) was considered the most godly man in all of Saaremaa.

From Germany my very good opinion came from the Brotherhood. In Livonia, on the contrary - as I knew - there was an obvious contradiction, almost hostility between the Hernians and the pastoral. I myself was internally on the side of the Brotherhood. In practical theology, Professor Harnack had in his time spoken very thoroughly of the views and work of Hernhut in Livonia. But, as I was at that time in relation to Livonia and the Hernia, I had listened to my colleague only half of my ears and didn't write almost anything, because I wasn't going to stay in Livonia. But now that I had decided to go to the service of the Baltic Lutheran Church, I realized that I had so far only been influenced by prejudice, without learning the history of the Livonian peacemaking.

And now, as a servant of the church, I myself got into the closest contact with the peacock. Wasn't my sacred duty before the church that I had to serve and wanted, not to accept the profession entrusted to me before, when I had honestly clarified the attitudes of the church to the hernia?
And for me, it was imperative for me to begin to orient myself in a professionally and historically precise way on such a difficult matter as cooperation with another church church entrusted to me. Without it, it was not possible to take a clear and correct, firm position.

Due to this serious trial, the waiting time really came to my advantage. I bought a book written by Professor Harnack (still in Erlangen) and began to read it with great enthusiasm. However, the results were different when I waited. I was very amazed at the "diaspora - practice" of the peacock, i. the concept of the Brotherhood of their special "invitation to work in other churches and churches" given by God, even where the regular management of other churches rejects this "help".
The understanding or assertion that Christ has "entered into a special agreement with the brotherhood", with all the other churches and congregations, with all the ensuing consequences, was highly doubtful to me. I had no idea about it before.

It became clear to me that the Livonian pastoral school, however, did not act in principle unfairly when they began so decisively to fight peaceable work in their churches. Whether in reality everything was right, I couldn't, of course, appreciate it.

During the week that I spent at Buxhöwden, both of them had already believed me about the position I had with the Brotherhood. And they were very pleased with the good tuning they had with them. The whole Lutheran church in Saaremaa has not yet been as good as anything else, except pastor Nolcken Pöides. And almost all the nobility actually respected the Brotherhood.

Now I was seriously worried that I had said so quickly to the Buxhöwden about my good faith in the brothers, without studying the matter thoroughly. I was so naive after the end of the trial year, because there were no brothers' prayer houses in Põltsamaa, not in Kursi. The whole thing hadn't come to me yet. Not yet clear, I decided to be as careful as possible and first try out what I have to do. I asked God so many times during those weeks to show me the right way. [- - -]

The Livonian Consortium reported that the Minister of the Interior had decided to release the canonical age restriction in the affirmative. The ordination was to be conducted by Professor Theodosius Harnack at the 19th (31st) December, 4th Advent (1871) in Tartu St. John's Church, and professor von Engelhardt was to preach. I rejoiced over it, though I would have preached myself on the ordination day. [- - -]

First your home

It was previously decided that we should not have to go to the Saaremaa trip immediately after the wedding in Saduküla. We had to stay there for about a week. And in any case, a message about the Strait had to be awaited first from Virtsu, if it was already surely surmountable. Virtsu station manager was asked to let us know immediately if the strait is certain.

But there was no hard frost, and there was very little snow. So our departure was still delayed. Of course we lived with Lalla since the wedding in the house. These were beautiful weeks, but we still wanted to get into our own house and especially to work where we were long awaited.

Finally, the frost came cold and then snow, and Virtsu reported at the end of January that the strait now also carries heavy loads. Immediately our stuff went out of Saduküla and on 4 February our farewell came. Everyone was determined and strong, without tears and crying. We divorced from the Word of God and prayers.

The first forty bloods went to Saduküla horses. When they got tired, we took it as the last part of Sadukyla's departure from the dungeon and sent the last greeting to our beloved parents and brothers.

We drove to us and the puppy in a completely unknown way. The trip offered little external comfort, except when we were sitting in our small enclosure protected from cold and wind.
On the first night we got a bed in a tavern, which meant only a shoulder that we could use to protect ourselves from bedbugs. With our leather skins, skins and carpets, we tried to make the camp comfortable; however, we didn't get enough sleep because we couldn't get rid of the fabric.

The next day, Saturday, we arrived at sunset at Mihkli Church Church. From here we had to drive over the winter road over endless sex. There were no single houses within the range of several verstas. It was very questionable whether the winter road was also clearly marked. I was worried about Lalla, who was really tired of driving, yesterday's survival, and last night. [- - -]

When we reached the road through the road, we noticed that there was significantly less snow in the immediate vicinity of the sea. We stopped at one of the taverns to let our horses rest a little. The eagle was full of peasants who came from the crowd, most of them gloomy.
When we got to the Virtsu winter road, we heard that there are also peasants from Saaremaa who drive the same road. Among them was also one drunken peasant from Valjala pastorate.

When he heard who I was, the man became almost despicable from fright. He was my tenant. In solemnity he apologized, allowing us to guide Virtsu only with tales. There is so little snow on the roads in Saaremaa that it is impossible to ride with a hoe without knowing the talks. So it was a happy meeting.

Virtsu arrived in the dark. Therefore, we were not advised to cross the strait. We were provided with a comfortable clean room on the upper floor of a large two-story post station. When I took my Lalla, who was very tired of the trip again, and wore up the stairs to save her hurt from the hard work, the post station people stood astonished and later told other travelers:
"Just think, Valjala's new pastor is carrying his wife at once! He once brought the lady up the stairs!"

At that time, of course, it wasn't a piece of art for me, because firstly I had enough strength to do that, and secondly, it was rather slender growth and lean.

Tuesday morning - February 7, 1872 - could go over the strait. We left the mainland and reached the surface of Saaremaa.

Pastor of Valjala

We left Virtsu as soon as it had gone white. There were about 50 drives to drive. The transition from the strait went well, the ice was bare. Our Valjala guide was driving in front, wishing to reach the Little Strait as directly as possible so that you could drive along the ice. In Saaremaa, he also managed to avoid post roads and to move over meadows and swamps. There was little snow. However, when we finally had to pass a section along the road, our poor horses tended to get tired immediately.

When the Valjala Church began to shine, it was already dim. Soon we drove pastorate into the courtyard. Everything was dark. Well, no man could wait for us.

However, the sound of our house was revived quickly. The door was brought to light. The old widow chef Liisu, who was welcoming us, was obscene, with an indescribably benevolent face, and reverently showed us to greet the stairs. Our freighters had already arrived, incredibly hard because of the snowy road. I picked up Lalla from the hoof and took my hands into our house.

Inside, it looked pretty deserted and loud, but still not as abandoned as we expected. We believed we could only find bare walls and we thought the first night would have to sleep on the floor. Instead, we found a couple of beds that one parishioner had bought for us from the auction of my predecessor's fortune. Baron Buxhöwden, the patron of our church, had sent us old furniture from the Lööne mansion for as long as we needed. So far we were at our disposal when we were in Valjala. Including a couple of beds, a sofa table, one sleeping couch with a pretty spotted yellow-skinned sleeve and some chairs.
We were very grateful for that. The hall had an old-fashioned couch with a high-light wooden back and side, a seat covered with dark green fabric, matching chairs and a coffee table. They were also left at our disposal. We were glad we were at our own home now.

Our old Liisu, a great chef, came to us with a "no" nice dinner offer. Then we kept the evening prayer with our people and we went to sleep quite soon, tired of the trip and thankful that God had helped us so far.

The next morning I organized a tour for Lalla. First again, along the house. The interior was characterized by white-lined walls and unpainted but cleaned floors. The rooms were simply rectangular with a ruler of good regularity, about 9.5 feet high, and the windows were relatively low in height.

The house was lovely and cozy also in its position. The backside and the southern end were toward the garden. The garden was surrounded by an old stone wall, which protected it only for animals, not for humans. In front of the house were two nice maple trees, under which we placed simple garden machines in the spring. By the road, the yard was closed with a stone wall and a very primitive wooden gate. The courtyard around the house was covered with lawn, from which the work trolleys were crossing and transverse, so the plaza always looked terrible. In the middle of the yard, we measured a large circular piece in the middle of the yard and built a wide carriageway around it, which was then used only by vehicles. Plats thus gained a pleasant appearance.

Right across from our house, on the other side of the carriageway, a glorious ancient church, a mighty old stone building, and a white lime plaster, with granite blocks everywhere, was located on a hillside. The church is the oldest in Saaremaa. It was built immediately after the islanders won the Sword Brothers. Next to the church, near the highway, the old deep source of crystal clear water was located, where the chiefs of the winning islanders were baptized immediately.

The church was originally built without a tower; it was added to the eastern end of the church later. The big door at the western end is completely novel; apparently due to the very slow progress of the construction, it went over to Gothic later. The arrows are obviously circular in the type, which they have tried to make gothic at the very end.

The apocalypse (choral end) was built much later and carried out in the purest beautiful gothic. The church's ping pong was very simple. On the right, at the end of the strike, immediately before the choir, there was an elevated chair for the Germans, who often took part in Estonian worship services in Saaremaa. In our time too, our church bishop, Baron Eugen Buxhöwden, often came to Estonian worship and was a very attentive listener. The other benches were dark brown, made of rather unbroken thick stains, which were gradually polished by sitting.

The altar and the pulpit were in a very ugly tasteless style that probably had to be a rococo. In a small organ-led room with a narrow chanterelle, a small weasel was located, rather winding than a ringing organ. Perhaps he only complained about the ill treatment of the old organist Viiu, the old girl's peasant. Viiu lived in a rather small but charmingly comfortable and embarrassingly clean house right next to the church and the baptismal source.

The pastorate and the church were surrounded by the parcels and meadows belonging to the congregation, the latter being mostly full of birches. Below the church, tiny streams flowed, which was also the boundary of the pastoral garden. To the east of the church, village villages and a village belonging to the pastoral church began. I renovated these houses next year.

All pastorate fields were surrounded by stone fences found in Estonia. These gardens were a good hiding place for the eagles and vasculizers often coming to Saaremaa. I've killed the eaves on our staircase and in the ice cellar.

One place in the garden between the meadow and the pasture was called a "wormhole". Heard the surrounding worms gather here for the winter hibernation. In spring, on the first warm sunny days, I have actually seen a lot of nastics (poisoned) and an old copper cup with three young specimens in the sun.

From the pastorate's surroundings, I have to name the so-called town. Every Saaremaa parish had one. Thus each parish of Saaremaa originally formed a political tribe. The rural town was a pile of granite pieces and a lot of soil. The Vall was surrounded by a ditch whose traces could still be seen and was about 30 to 35 feet high. In the middle of this circle, as soon as the enemy approached, a few people could be found with cattle. In the middle of the circle, there is still an old stone pit. Valjala had the largest castle in all parishes.

From this and the fact that the last decisive battle between the Teutonic Knights and the Archipelago, which ended with the total destruction of the freedom of the archipelago, was held at this painting, it is concluded that the men of Valjala had supremacy over Saaremaa. Almost all other castles are better preserved than Valjala. The winners often tried to destroy them. But the people still know today that the islanders have been hated by the Germans at this painting.

The landscapes around Valjala are not beautiful. And yet there is a small pastoral with old fence between fields and meadows, birch and pine forests, so friendly and cozy with the old powerful church that we loved it with all our heart.

The people of Valjala

At that time - 50 years ago - human relations in Saaremaa were still very patriarchal. The young Estonian movement was not noticeable at Saaremaa, at least in Valjala. I do not know if there were only one Estonian newspaper in the parish ordered. The uneducatedness of the congregation was so great that the majority of the members of the congregation could hardly read the print, but not the manuscript at all. Literature was just a small fraction of the church.

Most schools in Saaremaa, as in Valjala, were without a school building or were unsatisfactory, with very modest conditions. There were only three school buildings in Valjala, 3 500 with a spiritual population, and a parish school at the edge of the church.

True, also the old "schoolmaster" (so Saaremaa was called by the hoists, because so far there were no other teachers in the congregation), it also collapsed, both from the flesh and from the spirit.

In schools that were kept only in peasant smoke, somebody more or less taught a skillful peasant or servant a few days a week, as far as they just came together. The actual school attendance was not even known by the name.

Just a year ago, Pöide pastor Nolcken, who was no longer able to suffer this situation, made a public request to the newspaper to get a decent school, especially for his parish. Pöide with Jaani and Muhu were the poorest parishes in Saaremaa. During the Great Religious Movement 1843/44. There were about 75% of the Lutheran church in Greece over the Greek Orthodox Church - There were about 5000 of the 6,000 souls on the Bolshevik. How could one think in such circumstances to put this small congregation under the burden of building and maintaining schools?

That's why Nolcken turned to his counterparts on the continent with an urgent appeal to help build a Lutheran school for his church. Now the rest of the pastors also woke up, and a joint request from the entire Saaremaa synod was followed by Nolcken's appeal. At the request of the Baltic Sea provinces and St. From St. Petersburg to Saaremaa, considerable sums were made available to extend the duration of three days to four per week in all schools where only suitable teachers could be found and pay the corresponding fee.

In Valjala, there wasn't much to do in this respect either, because there was no pastor for 1¼ year. Here was a big field of work.

In some respects, however, the Valjala parish surpassed most others. Namely, religiosity. This was certainly the effect of the peacock. At the distance of the three bloods of the pastorate was the residence of the Deacon of the Brotherhood, who was in charge of all the "worship houses" of Saaremaa. And about five of the churches came from The Hague - the most respected prayer house for brothers.

If, from a confessional point of view, the actions of the peacemakers could be judged in any way, they had a spiritual and not a secular effect. And the influence of this spirit was also shown by the agar and lively visit of the prayer houses throughout the parish. The church was also very well visited, and not less by the brothers than by other members of the church, perhaps even more often.

The poor and the rich came to the church exclusively on foot. No one came to think of a horse to come to the church, the only exception was the newborn women, or when the children were brought to the church for baptism, where the mother did not come, of course, because the children were often baptized early.

However, there were usually no fathers. They seemed to be a disgrace to being baptized. When I insisted that the fathers must come to baptism, and I later fixed it, I had to overcome strong passive opposition. If the people's conscience hadn't come to the rescue, I would have fallen in this struggle.

I tried to make the thing so that the father would have an honorary office at baptism: he was the only one who had the right to keep baptisms during the baptismal service. It persuaded the congregation, and when some of the fathers did start to fight, the crowd named them a "brewer" - they had to brew an important baptismal beer at home. When the crowd stood up with their eyes, they gave up.

But nothing else encouraged the spiritual development of the Valjala parish: it was only a small part of the sea. And this beach, which opened towards the Gulf of Riga, was low and unsuitable for shipping. As a result, Valjala people did not engage in smuggling at all or did so very little. I didn't hear anything about it. All other seaside parishes were famous for their bold smuggling. On the eastern shore they were primarily the Muhammad and the western shore of Kihelkonna. The latter had folksongs that praised the smugness and heroism of the smugglers. There is little else that will make the church both impoverishable and smuggling with its profits and even more with its excited courage, insidiousness and dangers.

Now, some of the characteristic members of the congregation. First old schoolmaster Taawit Taawitson. Approximately 75 years old (by appearance), he moved on a scythe, with smooth sliding steps. Always smiling, smiling, with a fine high voice, cautious expression, not to compromise.

He was by nature a benevolent man, wanted to be a faithful Christian. But it was not clear to him whether he was a Lutheran or a Hernian, or that the most important thing was peaceful engagement with all people. Therefore, he had become an eternal wizard. We always did well with each other, without any disagreements, but also failed to work together. When I began to ask the church that it might be customary to abandon the Eucharist, and more often to come to the Eucharist, when they needed it, it was a great excitement for and in favor of the church. And if I tied the call to everyone who wanted to hit something before the coming of the communion, they could either come to me on Saturday, without any compulsion, then the excitement became even greater, because such a call was made by the Hernians to intervene directly in their land. The pastor had to preach and share the sacrament; however, a special suckling job was provided for the peacemaker.

I did not allow myself to rethink this issue in any way, but I continued with both proposals. The result was that all the spiritually minded church members who, for some reason, were not part of the Brotherhood, began to visit the communion more diligently, and many of them came to me alone on Saturday. However, these were only a few members of the congregation. The Hernians had a high prevalence. They encouraged me to passively resist. But the lives of those members of the congregation who came to me were made bitter by blasphemy, so they didn't dare to go to the village soon. When they came on Sunday dresses on Saturdays, they already knew where their path was going. So they had to make a longer circle around the villages.

Now the old Taawitson! I once talked to him about four-eyed careful visitation. I wanted to get to know his convictions because he was a powerful person in the church. With a friendly smile, he assured me that I had the full right to invite the church more often to the communion. He fully understands that it is in the glory of the Redeemer.

Then I asked:
"But dear Taawitson, why don't you come up with yourself more often? Think about the impact that this might have on the church when a young pastor calls, but the old schoolmaster does not come. gather to overcome the fear of people! "

Then the old man replied shyly:
"Yes, dear pastor, if you are a little bit more peaceful now in the church, I will surely come," I would love to come. " It didn't work for him. His fear of the people and the noise in the church lasted longer than his life.

Soon after our arrival, the members of the Estonian congregation began to visit us repeatedly, usually in the afternoon after the day's work. The women came to Lalla and the men came to me.
Since the Estonian language of Saaremaa is quite different from that of Livonia, that is, in a lot of words, which in Saaremaa are gigantic, but in Livonia replaced with German words, because of my poor knowledge of Estonian, the discussion was often difficult for me.

Once, however, it saved me from a couple of high-profile insults. There were four peasants, pure young men. After the initial greeting, we were still standing in the workshop, not all in our age, turned slightly and lowered, arms crossed, all over the body. They spoke in a peculiar peculiar tone (I don't mock, but describe), smoothly throbbing.
Gradually, sighing grew, for which our reasoning did not give any reason. Young school teacher Siksal Jaan, who was considered to be a very brave man, sighed so loudly and sadly that I suddenly thought he was sick.

I asked them now to take the seat they said. If then another heartbreaking noise came, I wanted to ask if he had anything wrong, maybe a stomach pain or something else. Fortunately, I didn't know the medical vocabulary and gave up the question. When I talked to Laila later, she was very scared. He had long been aware of the peculiarities of the Pentecostals of Saaremaa, the great sentimentality that was expressed in the blown-up blowout.

Diakon Steinmann later explained to me that even he is still unable to get used to the rebellion of Saaremaa. When he visited the temple of prayer, he had often experienced that, when he was already on the bench, before he was able to open his mouth, heavy sighing and tears were triggered. He had often told people that they would have to hold back the weeds and cry if they didn't know if what he had to say was worth the sigh and cry.

There were also people who did not threaten the Hernhutites, and these were the best. For example, an old headwind, Hague Ado Pääslane, then a Jakob-named man from Haez, a very serious Christian, both fully intelligent, clear-eyed men.

The Haagi Ado, a barely medium-growth man, with long, smooth, dark, already dominated hair, is a striking look in a friendly face (a little pastor Braun reminiscent of a facial expression), one of the people who has left me an indelible impression of over and over the cleavage of a spiritual man.
The Hague Ado, however, was a deeply convinced hernian, for whom the Lutheran Church was the prayer of the temple of prayer.

The same was for Jakob Haesk. He didn't think much about baptism. His fundamental sacrament of holiness was the acceptance of lions by the lynx. But he never said anything bad about the church or the church. He also considered the church a divine institution, as was the temple of Jerusalem for the people of the people, the mass of the unbeliever. These people had to be awakened by preaching in the church. But only a prayer house could become a true priest.
He was too spiritual personality, so he could hurt others. There was a force in his belief in beliefs that aired from this little kidnapped man.

Another, much older man, as well as a peacock reader, I learned later in his death bed Kogula [rural municipality] Kõks village. A completely different type than the Hague Ado. The old man was already at least 80 years old - a truly spiritual man. But he had a very different view of his church. It was based on the fact that he was awakened by reading his little catechism as a servant of the young field. And since then, she had always carried catechism all her life as her favorite book. We became real friends, and we got much closer to each other when I was in the Hague ado.

There was more Lutheran color in the spiritual life of the old man. Particularly delicate people were also his relatives who lived on his old days and died in his house - the family of the Reasonable [name translation], all the people with fine heart-training, which only the noble persons meet. They abstained from the prayer house, but were rather ecclesiastic than peaceable. Indeed, I started to consider this family personally and humanly as good friends.

But the most valued, the most beautiful and also the most important person in the Valjala congregation was for me the head judge of the Haeska region, [- - -] Ado Aus [translation Auväärt] host of Hansi Farm. He was right in his name. I have hardly seen a more educated German who would have judged and spoken so calmly and fairly about the relationship between Estonians and Germans when Ado Aus.

When I once talked to him about this topic and said:
"The Germans have done a lot of sins against the Estonians, especially during the serfdom," he replied calmly:
"Beloved pastor, you are still young and you know few people. Certainly some great injustices have been born by the Germans, but the greatest torturers of our people have always been Estonians themselves, especially during serfdom and theory. Do you think that if Mr he was angry with the farmer or the farmer sent to the manor, he let the little wicked take over to get his hand? No! But if he was angry (at the supervisor's job), he was angry with the servant or the peasant, so he could torture until the blood was out. he put it on for the hardest and most painful work for a week or more. Let him let the harrowing, harass, and harrowing in the warm dust. It was always stupid for the Germans who knew nothing about it. "

In some cases, I got advice from Ado Aus. He had a beautiful, intelligent face that expressed sincerity. Throughout my life, I have not learned the most generous Estonian. He was a very man without pretense.

We also had some loyal girlfriends among women. One was single, Wiisu Kadri Uustalo.
Small, energetic person. When it became clear to him that the Brotherhood did not actually have the right to be a "secular" or even "a forerunner" for the Lutheran congregation and the Lutheran church, he was not afraid to show his belief that he refrained from the prayer house and came only to church, saying the reason, without fear of persecution that did not come.

It was so evident that he and others who kept away from the prayer house were therefore sadly abandoned on Sundays when almost all other religious members of the church went directly from the church to the wards, where they held their gatherings about two hours after the morning service.

This led me to the decision to introduce the afternoon service to the church. Since I had some baptisms or ordinances in the afternoon after lunch, then lunch and preparation for the afternoon, afternoon, the services of the South Worship were a little bit later than the beginning of the gatherings of prayer houses. Wiisu Kadri and his peers were very happy about this innovation. But the brothers were just as sad. At first they noticed that gradually more and more members of their congregation preferred to attend church worship, and thus the predominant pride of prayer-worshipers had fluctuated over the church. But maybe they also felt compelled not to neglect the ecclesiastical service.

I was very moved when, after a short while, the church began to visit the church in the afternoon. They made the beginning of their gatherings a bit earlier and then rushed back to church again; of course only part, but the old Hague Ado himself came back. I appreciated it very much because I was not able to offer the church much because of my youth and lack of Estonian language.

Wiisu Kadri especially noted one of my proverbs, which I always strongly emphasized: the universal right of all believers to the priesthood. When we had already moved to Rõuge, he asked me by letter whether he had understood me correctly in the general priesthood. He had visited one of the sick people I felt. The pastor visited the same day, from whom he had received the last grace. But the sick had fallen into the desperate mood with heavy guilt. He had replied to Kadri's question that he had a certain serious sin in the soul and had not recognized it. Kadri asked why did he not tell the teacher who was bothering him?

"You know what this teacher is," the ill replied, "he just comes in, holds a bunch of hands and shares a grace without telling me a word."
"Shouldn't I ask the teacher again?"
"No, it would be in vain, he would not understand what I needed. I confess to him and he would make me free from sins without the admonition and desire."
Then Wiisu Kadri told him:
"Listen, you know what our ex-teacher has told us that if there is no pastor at hand or if the pastor doesn't know how he should walk with the soul, then we can confess one another and forgive one another in the name of God for sins."
"And, I know that well."
"Now, dear brother, look at me not as an uneducated woman, but as a Christian who believes in Jesus Christ. Testify of my sins that trouble you, and I exhort you and comfort you as I can and give you your sins to God. Forgive me on behalf of you. Do you believe I can and will do it? "

The patient agreed with it and so he kept her tongue, asked with her and released her from sin. After that, however, he had doubts as to whether he was still a woman, as the woman had to keep silent in the church.

I note here that he found the sick alone alone, because everyone else was working in the field. I could only reassure her that she had understood me correctly and acted correctly. The very characteristic of those firmly holding them towards the church was that they began to sing, read and pray together without special guidance, together, and that they then visited like-minded people in other parishes, such as Pastor Nolcken and his awakened church church members.

One of Wiisu Kadri's co-owners was the housekeeper of Paali Farm, which belonged to Sassi Manor. His man was an insignificant person, but he was a living, intelligent and energetic person, but with joyful behavior. He was still a young woman with a nice face, but without any vanity, sincerely natural and open-minded. He was one of our closest friends in Valjala, although he lacked the least [religious] fanaticism. He was deeply faithful to the faithfulness of the Lutheran Church, the freedom of the soul he had in his church (as opposed to the Pietist limitations of the Brotherhood of the Brotherhood), which was so firmly connected with the Church and with us. It was accompanied by personal love, but in such a free and compulsive manner that it was our true friend in the best sense.

He's still standing in front of my eyes with my often-dying and love-burning eyes, my blond, slightly reddish-pounding, split-haired hair. Is he still living? When I drove from Tallinn to Saaremaa oAleksander Toom (Habakuk II; 1823-1907)nce in the summer, I saw him last time. There was already at least 17 years between the exodus and the lookout, but his love was still the same.

Aleksander Toom (Habakuk II; 1823-1907) I still have to name one man, "a strange saint," undoubtedly a very lonely Männiko Sander. Previously, he had been a wildman in a pine forest belonging to the Lööne manor, his name being. I have forgotten my family name. He considered himself to be a serious prophet.

Hardly an average growth man with reddish hair and beard, the last one kicks on. The old gray felt hat covered his head and a little tangled hair, gray home-made cube body. The face was untidy, almost obsolete, facial expressions sharply drawn, gray eyes mostly fluttering, but they could also look completely friendly when he hoped to understand his prophecy.

I had already heard about Baron Buxhöwden about Sandri. One day he came to greet me. She presented herself as "Habakuk Another" and immediately told her all about calling her a prophet. He had been in the pastoral pastoral winter and prayed there. Then suddenly a great fire like a marble wheel dropped off from heaven, and he heard the voice shouting, "Habakuk Another", and in the same letter with the golden letters on the wheel: "Habakuk II".

Then he learned that he had been called as a prophet to proclaim to the people repentance. And now he has come to invite me to work with him, then a whole new time for the people. Because it is all clearly stated in the Bible. The blessing of the walrus is beginning. If the cock in the church tower and the Rooster in the pulpit and the Haba-Kook in the middle of the nation hold together, there will be bliss.

2. Peter's [letter], 1.19 clearly states that the word of the prophet should be observed: "... before the dawn of the dawn". Now he is Habakuk II, this morning star because he is from Koiküla [Koiklas], etc.

The man could be considered crazy, he was not normal; but there was also a great deal of religious fanaticism. I tried to explain to her as calmly as possible that I was not convinced of her divine calling, and therefore could not work with her. Sander did not become fierce or angry, but explained to me that in this case, I am the same blind preacher of blinds as all other pastors. Then we went apart.

Shortly thereafter, one Sunday morning, when I went to church, Männiku Sander stood in the church gate and preached, zhesticulously shouting and shouting. I asked people who were calm around to go to church. When they followed me, he went out loudly with cries. A similar came soon again. But even his own relatives, wife and children, didn't want to listen to him anymore. It was a hard blow for him. It was a consequence of being treated tyranny at home. But his proclamation was so great that he gave his wife and children money to listen to him.

I visited her once in her hut because a poor bitter man was worried about me. Of course, we did not reach mutual agreement. The last time I saw him in the summer of 1874, we had a great mission party in Valjala. My father was then there and preached pastor Doll as a translator using the churchyard. When the worship was over, Männiku Sander suddenly came near, quickly stepped up to the elevation that had been shaped as a pulpit, and began to speak. I asked people to leave, and when they immediately followed the prayer, all of Sandri's anger turned to me. He left screaming and zhesticulating his hands and feet.

However, I still have to tell one small scene because it was characteristic of our relationships with the members of the church. From the very beginning, it was quite obvious to us that we reached out to the members of our church who came to us. Later on Sunday morning, our home morning weddings came so much that sometimes the large reception room was full of people. After prayer, I always gave my people a hand and gradually got used to strangers, and I had no reason to refuse this heartfelt handshake. If then in 1872. May was my solemn day of introduction, when I had to be set up by the old superintendent Hesse in assisting the old pastor Gahlnbäck, then the reception room was full of breakfast. When the old men, who had also come to prayer, saw all the peasants give me a hand, they were reluctant to them. After a few minutes, the old Gahlnbäck came back to the reception room, grabbed me and said, "Come on, Hahn, leave that handshake, what should that mean?" I didn't make myself enthralled. But when I came to another room, he said to me, "I will only give to those members of the church who are" Brethren in the Lord, "upon whom I have been so modest as I could, that I have no basis in the scripture.

I have to confine myself to a few words about the Germans in my church. I have already told you about the Buxhöwden. We always stayed in the same good relationship with them. Baron Eduard Sass and his wife, born von Sengbusch of Haes, became the most beloved coworkers. Eduard von Sass was a friend of Pastor Nolcken, the secretary of the consistory. Because of his duties, they lived mostly in the city. When we first visited them there we only found Baroness at home. Long, slim, dark-haired woman with exceptionally lively and friendly, bright eyes. He came to us with such heartfelt and warmth that we could not first believe that it was truly sincere. But the longer we got to know him, the more loved he changed us. He became a friend to us in the best sense. Rarely a remarkable woman, intelligent and clear in her decisions, she was far beyond her husband, although she was one of the best in Saaremaa. I'll have to tell him later.

In Valjala's life, there was only one more important person in the parish - the steep deacon Steinmann. He lived near the Jööri Manor in an office building that the former owner of Jööri Manor had built for a deacon. Steinmann, a small limby man, a Swiss-born, originally reformed Christian, only joined the Brotherhood as an adult in Germany. His wife was the daughter of the predecessor deacon Knote.

Steinmann little cared about any peculiar peculiarities - he had not grown in this spirit. The slander and flattering behavior of some of Saaremaa's Pentecostals was also reluctant to him. Soon after we came to Valjala, we were visited by Steinmann. Later he did it quite often, usually once a week, especially in winter, then staying at us for the night, although Juri was just three miles away.

Immediately on his first visit, he asked a test question, which I was already expecting: "Will I allow him and his family to receive a grace in Valjala Church?" He waited for immediate approval. But I knew from Harnack's book that the Deacon of the Brotherhood used to consecrate their family with their family according to the order of their church. But it was important for him that the brothers and sisters who held the brotherhood would receive a grace in the church. (The Lutheran brothers and sisters who held the Lutheran Church, namely, according to the law, were not allowed to receive a deacon for love.) In this situation, they tried to make the church members who did not hold the prayer house come to the altar. They wanted to share communion only with convinced prayers - as the elite of the Lutheran congregation.

That's why I couldn't bind myself to my heart. On the other hand, the immediate public opposition to the Brotherhood was threatening my activities in the church. Moreover, I had not yet had enough clarity about the Brotherhood. I said this to Steinmann. Since I had had the intention of becoming a missionary to Africa, I have not dealt quite seriously with this special issue in Livonia. So now I have a clear answer to my debts. It will take a few months before I can figure out.

Steinmann replied with total calmness, "I hope your answer will be in accordance with my wish. Otherwise, I would despair of the church's confidence," an expression that Steinmann later firmly denied [---]. Anyway, he didn't think like that. But even if I did not quite understand him, he was quite naïve about the belief of the Pentecostals that the Lutheran pastor can only feel the congregation's confidence in Valjala, when he works with the peasants. It was clear to me from Steinmann's answer that as a pastor of the Lutheran church, I never want to be a servant of the Herniah, but only of the servants of God when He blesses my work. In this response, a clear-minded attitude towards our church was evident, although Steinmann was undoubtedly one of the more lenient deacons. [- - -]

After about four months, I clearly and firmly told Steinmann that I had to share the sacrament with a peacock deacon if he wished it to be a "peacemaker", incompatible with my Lutheran pastor's office, and that it seems to me wrong that all the brothers' so-called "diasporaas" - the same greedy practice of others Constitute congregations to form their own groups and take them to their special spiritual care (which is why these congregations are almost entirely out of their pastor's influence). They called it the "help" they gave to the Lutheran Church. In fact, however, they created a serious gap in our churches, and always tried to take away all the worshiped members of the congregation and pull their sides. I cannot sanctify this pious work by taking a deacon to the communion, especially the deacon at the head of the prayer house church. If he is sick and is in a state of emergency I will naturally serve him.

This response came to Steinmann quite unexpectedly. Maybe my answer would not have been so decisive if I hadn't been in close relationship with Pastor Nolcken in the meantime.


To thank Steinmann, I have to say that he did not try to induce any more serious struggle against me. He couldn't be happy with my answer. And, of course, he could not silence him before the prayer house. He could clearly show his dissatisfaction with my position. But he did not do the incitement to him, but he was a fairly fair Christian. He still had to spend a week in the pastoral evening; we read together one another and discussed the ecclesiastical, theological, and the spiritual issues. And when Nolcken and I and Karja Pastor Winkler soon formed a circle with us to meet at least once a month to read the Scriptures, Steinmann complained stupidly when he was left alone, because he can't make such a circle with some of his brothers. Nolcken and Winkler were in full agreement with my inquiry about Steinmann's involvement. How did he enjoy this co-existence? So he also had a deep impression that my disapproval of the Eucharist was not a result of fanaticism towards him. And even more so: the church also noticed it. So we remained good friends and Christian brothers.

When, after a year, other brothers and sisters wished to take part in our Bible Circle, we told them that Steinmann also came. But then they didn't want to get involved. Of course he didn't want to.