The abbess of the largest Orthodox women’s monastery in
France discusses the history of the monastery and the challenges connected with
the “special military operation” and the hegemony of the Russian Orthodox
Church.
Alexander Soldatov |
May 28, 2025 | Novaya Gazeta
“Lesna Monastery is only a matter
of time,” Patriarch Kirill said in December 2016, answering questions from
representatives of the Russian emigration during his visit to France. The head
of the Russian Orthodox Church most likely had in mind the “inevitability” of
the largest Orthodox women’s monastery in France being absorbed by the Moscow
Patriarchate. In the same way, during the first two decades of the present
century, most of the monasteries and parishes of the formerly independent
Russian Church Abroad and of the Russian Archdiocese of Paris, which belonged
to the Patriarchate of Constantinople, had already been absorbed.
But the monastery in the village
of Provemont in Normandy, where approximately twenty nuns and an equal number
of female and male lay workers now reside, is still holding out, preserving its
independence and the “continuity of the tradition” that dates back to the
nineteenth century.
In 1885, it was founded in the
Polish village of Lesna (Leśna Podlaska), in a region inhabited predominantly
by Roman Catholics but which, before the First World War, formed part of the
Russian Empire. The principal sacred object of this “experimental” monastery—oriented
toward active social ministry and the preaching of Orthodoxy in a non-Orthodox
environment—became the icon of the Mother of God, which had been venerated as
wonderworking since the seventeenth century. Together with it, the sisters of the
monastery (at the time of the first evacuation, in 1915, there were about five
hundred of them!) passed through several countries during the first half of the
twentieth century—Russia, Bessarabia, and Serbia—until they finally settled in
France in 1950. In 1967, they were able to purchase a large estate of several
dozen hectares in the village of Provemont, between Paris and Rouen, in the
valley of a small river winding among the rapeseed-covered hills of Normandy.
Its proximity to the capital and accessibility by transport make the journey to
the monastery easier for hundreds of pilgrims from different countries. All are
received hospitably, without being asked about their ecclesiastical
jurisdiction, although on major feast days there may not be enough room for
everyone.
The monastery is situated on the
outskirts of the village. Its formal Art Nouveau gates are adorned with an
eight-pointed cross and a copy of the wonderworking Lesna Icon. The nuns live
in the main three-story building, on one side of which lies a picturesque
clearing with neatly trimmed cypress trees, and on the other, a meadow
descending toward the river. To the right of the gates, buildings have been
constructed for pilgrims; to the left stands an old French church with the
traditional rooster atop its spire. It was once Roman Catholic, but today only
the stained-glass windows depicting French saints recall this, while the
eastern part of the church is separated by a Russian-style iconostasis with
beautiful icons by Pimen Sofronov—perhaps the most famous Old Believer
iconographer of the twentieth century. Every day, morning and evening,
unhurried services are held in the church, accompanied by the singing of the
nuns’ choir, which preserves the distinctive Lesna chants.
The monastery’s present abbess,
Euphrosynia (Molchanova), the seventh since the monastery’s founding, shared
with a Novaya Gazeta correspondent the secret of the continuity of the
Lesna tradition, the particular features of its present status, and its plans,
and also spoke about how the “special military operation” has affected the life
of the monastery…
A Monastery of
a New Type
—Lesna is the only monastery
of the Russian tradition in the West whose ministry has continued uninterrupted
since before the Revolution. At the same time, the monastery managed, so to
speak, to evade the embrace of the Moscow Patriarchate, to which nearly all the
monasteries of the Russian diaspora gradually submitted. Why was your monastery
in particular able to hold out in this way? What is the secret?
—The monastery was unique from
the very time of its establishment in the late nineteenth century. It was
founded as an open, missionary monastery on the very frontier of the Russian
Empire [now eastern Poland, Biała County in the Lublin Voivodeship.—A.S.], and
Mother Ekaterina (Efimovskaya) was invited to take charge of it all. The
monastery immediately engaged in active social and educational work. According
to the accounts of her contemporaries, Mother Ekaterina was a very charismatic
person.
According to tradition, the Elder
Ambrose of Optina, to whom she went for a blessing, said to Mother Ekaterina:
“Establish the new monastery in a new way.” He placed his mantle upon her and
gave the sisters their first prayer rule.
Saint John of Kronstadt also
strongly supported the monastery and its entirely new orientation.
In that era, schools and
orphanages were being opened at many monasteries, a movement of sisters of
mercy arose, and the role of women in the Church and society was being
vigorously discussed. It was amid this current that Mother Ekaterina created a
monastery of a new type. It was no coincidence that she wrote extensively about
the revival of the order of deaconesses, that is, the ordination of women to
the diaconal rank. It was envisaged that the first school for women seeking
such a ministry would open precisely at Lesna.
War played a major role in the
history of the monastery. The First World War broke out precisely in those
regions, and Bishop Anastasy (Gribanovsky), the future First Hierarch of the
Russian Church Abroad, entrusted the community of sisters with the care of the
wonderworking Lesna Icon so that it would not be left in Lesna under
occupation. The icon was no longer tied to a particular place, and afterward,
wherever we found ourselves, each place was called Lesna. Although Lesna is now
a village in Poland, even here in Provemont, France, we are called “Lesna.” In
general, the monastery began its wanderings in 1914, and later, when Bishop
Anastasy became Bishop of Chișinău, he invited the sisters to join him—and
thus, together with the icon, they moved from country to country.
When Bessarabia became part of
Romania and the authorities of that country decided to change the calendar, the
sisters resolved that they would not adopt the New Calendar but would preserve
their tradition, and the entire community, together with the icon, moved to
Serbia. Later, after Serbia, when the Reds came there, they moved to France. We
have now been here for seventy-five years—the longest period in the monastery’s
history. We are not attached to Lesna as a place; for us, Lesna is a tradition.
—I have heard talk that this
place, too, may not be the monastery’s final home and that perhaps you will
move to America…
—No, we were simply invited to
open a metochion there, and we are trying to do so. But for the time
being, no one intends to move the entire monastery. Of course, everything is in
God’s hands. At one point, we thought that perhaps we might return to Russia,
and we bought a house near Belgorod. But it did not work out…
One Trial After
Another…
—The monastery has a
distinctly Russian character, yet canonically you found yourselves within the
Serbian True Orthodox Church. Was it really so difficult to find something
among the Russian ecclesiastical jurisdictions, which are now innumerable, that
you had to turn to the Serbian Church?
—That is precisely the problem:
they are innumerable. At first, we joined the Russian True Orthodox Church [RTOC;
one of the “fragments” of the Russian Church Abroad that did not support its
rapprochement with the Russian Orthodox Church in the early 2000s.—A. S.],
which we regarded as a continuation of the Catacomb Church of the Soviet
period. It was a great consolation for us that something genuine had been
preserved in Russia, that after all our disappointments in the Church Abroad we
had found the authentic catacomb tradition. But when everything there too began
to go awry, it was a very great disappointment.
The fragmentation into endless
groups also affected the RTOC, and trying to make sense of it all is an ordeal
in itself. Moreover, our monastery has a strong historical connection with
Serbia. By that time [Lesna Monastery joined the Serbian True Orthodox Church
in 2016.—A. S.], we already knew the Serbian Bishop Akakije well, whose
episcopal consecration took place precisely here, at Lesna. We regard our
present status as temporary, without losing hope that the situation in the
Russian Church will be rectified. All the more so because, in Europe, none of
these Russian jurisdictions and groups has a resident bishop, while the Serbian
bishops are geographically the closest to us, which is also convenient from a
purely practical standpoint.
—You yourself were born in
America, in Brooklyn. Why did you choose Lesna Monastery while still young?
There are also women’s monasteries of the Russian tradition in America.
—When I began seriously
considering monasticism, there was Novo-Diveevo Monastery near New York. But
circumstances there were such that the monastery had become merely a pious
branch of a home for the elderly. There was also the monastery in Boston, but it
did not belong to our Russian tradition; there was something in California as
well, but I did not know them at all. My spiritual father was Metropolitan
Philaret (Voznesensky) [the third First Hierarch of ROCOR, who died in 1985.—A.
S.]; in those years, he spent every summer at Lesna. He greatly valued and
loved this monastery and always spoke of it as an exemplary women’s monastery,
and this played a part in my decision.
At that time, I often visited and
even lived at the Monastery of Saint Mary Magdalene in the Holy Land [in
Gethsemane, not far from the Old City of Jerusalem.—A. S.], but the situation
there was very precarious then. The monasteries were not communal; that is, one
had to think about how to support oneself in those lands. And the way of life
there is such that one must constantly feel oneself to be a pilgrim.
In my view, it is a particular
calling—to pray in the holy places and commemorate there those who ought to be
commemorated—but at that time I did not encounter there the kind of
concentrated monastic life I was seeking.
At that time, I was deeply
interested in Byzantium and Greek chants, and I spent several months in Greece,
traveling from monastery to monastery. But there too I found neither a place
nor a person who could convince me that Greece was the right choice. After
that, I came here, and it was a very difficult moment in the monastery’s
history: Abbess Magdalena (Grabbe) had broken her hip and was in the hospital;
the spiritual father, Father Arseny, had left for Australia after a quarrel
with Metropolitan Philaret; the dean and the deputy abbess did not get along
with one another; and there was complete chaos here. And nevertheless, the
monastery continued to live its own life: the divine services continued, the
sisters prayed… And I realized that, if I had come here at such a difficult
time and the spiritual life was continuing as it should, then there was
something here. Afterward, I went to the hospital to visit Mother Magdalena,
and then I made my decision: that was it—I was staying.
—Did you choose the monastic
path from your youth, or were there some hesitations?
—I knew from childhood that I
wanted to serve the Church in some way. I belonged to the Russian Scout
movement, and when I was in my sixteenth year, our beloved leader died—the
first death of someone close to me that I had experienced. In his memory, a group
of us young people and scouts decided to make a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. At
that time, the Church Abroad organized special youth pilgrimages: we traveled
for six weeks through Italy and Greece. It was then, in the Holy Land, that I
first saw monasteries with young fully professed nuns and rassophore nuns, and
for the first time this became a possible choice for me. Two years later, I
returned to live for a time in the Holy Land, and it was then that I made my
decision.
—Did you manage to receive any
secular education?
—Yes, I am an art historian by
training, but I did not complete the course of study.
Missionary Work
—On what basis are sisters now
admitted to the monastery? They come from different countries and different
cultures… Do you select them in some way? Is there some kind of screening
process?
—No. As Mother Magdalena used to
say: “The Lord sends each person.” Now, when there is no genuine, sound parish
life, it is very beneficial for everyone to spend at least some time in a
monastery, where Church life is concentrated. One simply cannot find this
anywhere anymore. And many women come for precisely this reason—almost all of
them leave, but if everything is properly ordered, even a brief experience of
life in a monastery remains with them for the rest of their lives. Sometimes
they come in other ways as well: they write to us, make inquiries, and enter
our monastery…
Nowadays, it is very difficult
for modern people to embrace monasticism. Perhaps it has always been this way:
there is a certain core of genuinely dedicated monastics, and around them are
all sorts of people—some remain, while others leave.
—Is it true that there is a
plan to establish a Russian cemetery on the monastery’s grounds?
—We have long hoped to obtain
permission. This is a typically French peculiarity: when you ask about it, they
immediately reply: “In France, there is no concept of a private cemetery.” But
then they add: “Of course, you may request permission to bury your sisters and
members of the community on your own land.”
This means that people will have
to be registered as members of our community, and permission for each burial
will have to be requested separately. One cannot simply open a cemetery. A
great deal depends on the position of the French authorities and on who exactly
is in charge in the prefecture. So far, we have already received the consent of
the village and of the local rural community.
—The monastery carries out
missionary work: it establishes parishes in various countries…
—Our monastery has always been
called missionary, but the present situation arose because, when we did not
join the Moscow Patriarchate, there proved to be quite a number of people in
Europe who shared our views and wished to follow this path. I would not say
that all of them are ideological opponents of the Moscow Patriarchate. A fairly
large proportion of the people in such parishes are those who love our
monastery or simply trust it: if the monastery has chosen this path, then they
will follow the monastery. Others made their choice for ideological reasons.
And these people had to be provided with pastoral care somehow.
We currently have three
missionary parishes in Germany and one in Spain, and we have periodically
celebrated services in Italy and the Netherlands. Ukraine—including the
community in Chernigov and Father Nikon of Zhmerynka—also became part of our
mission. Then the French mission, headed by Father Romaric, who was ordained
here, joined us. He has at least two communities, and now a third has appeared
as well. Finally, there is also a community of Moldovans who have moved to
France.
—What is your view of the
process of inculturating Orthodoxy on French soil?
—Saint John (Maximovitch) himself
[a hierarch of the Russian Church Abroad, 1896–1966; in the 1950s he headed the
Western European Diocese; he was glorified among the saints and is venerated by
all branches of the Russian Orthodox Church.—A. S.] was engaged in this work;
after all, French Orthodoxy existed in ancient times. To some extent, it needs
to be recreated, but I am not an advocate of experiments with Gallican
liturgies or other ancient rites. The contemporary mission of Father Romaric himself
is directed mainly toward traditionalist Catholics who have become
disillusioned with the Vatican. And there are many of them.
Generally speaking, the French
adhere to a secular tradition and to the strict separation of Church and state.
Nevertheless, a small but active proportion of believers has remained—people
who are searching and who, among other things, are coming to Orthodoxy. But
unlike the official Orthodox Churches, the Roman Catholics do not provide us
with churches in which to celebrate services, so it is difficult to find
premises and resources, but the work somehow goes forward.
—Do you maintain contacts with
the other Orthodox Churches in France—especially those that do not belong to
official Orthodoxy?
—We try to. We have good
relations with the True Orthodox Church of France and with the Russian parish
in Lyon. Of course, I would like everyone to treat one another more kindly and
somehow try to work toward reunification. It is unlikely that this will be the
Russian Church Abroad as it was before, but nevertheless, something could still
be brought together.
Wars Cannot Be
Justified
—Would it be correct to say
that, in 2022, the monastery adopted a peacemaking position and opened its
doors wide to the victims of hostilities?
—I would not say that we adopted
any clearly defined peacemaking position. I do not impose my opinion on
anyone—perhaps this is connected with my American roots, with recognizing
everyone’s freedom to think as he wishes. We have both parishioners and sisters
who hold a wide variety of views. Of course, wars are aggression and suffering
for many people, especially in our time (…).
Receiving refugees was a purely
Christian decision. Hospitality and assistance to those in need have always
been a principal monastic virtue. In accordance with the Gospel, we could not
have acted otherwise.
Another consideration was that
the French authorities knew that we had accommodations for pilgrims here, so
sooner or later they would have turned to us to house the influx of new
refugees. Therefore, from the very beginning, in the spring of 2022, I contacted
practically everyone I knew in Ukraine and said: if you need to leave and go
somewhere, then please come to us. My reasoning was that it would be better for
us to receive people we knew than simply those whom the authorities might send
to us.
—How many refugees have passed
through the monastery over these three years?
—Altogether, about twenty-five
people. Some stayed for a long time, others for a shorter period. Two of them
were from Russia. Of course, receiving them is not easy, and we have had many
difficult cases. There is a well-known French film, The Dialogue of the
Carmelites, about a women’s monastery during the French Revolution. One of
the heroines comes from a noble family and supports the king, while the brother
of another nun is fighting in the ranks of the revolutionaries. He is killed,
and a letter found in his pocket is brought to his sister, the nun. And in the
film, the abbess addresses the sisters: “You see, we have both one side and the
other among us. And it is not our task to judge who is right here and who is
wrong. Our task is to pray for all who are afflicted and suffering.”
—What are the monastery’s
principal needs at present? What kind of assistance do you need?
—Well, first of all, moral
support and prayer. The Moscow Patriarchate does not leave us without
attention, and we constantly receive hints: if only you were with them, all the
material problems would quickly be resolved and sponsors would be found. But we
have always considered ourselves sufficiently free and have remained free, and
we have no intention of seeking sponsors toward whom we would afterward have to
feel indebted and whose wishes we would have to take into account. If anyone is
able to help in some way, we will commemorate those people, thank them, and the
Lord will bless them.
When the monastery moved to
France, someone asked Abbess Theodora: “Mother, in what do you place your
hope?” And she replied: “In the Mother of God.” They answered her: “Yes, of
course, that is all understood, but realistically, what will the monastery live
on? How will you maintain all of this?” And Mother Theodora simply said: “That
is the most real thing there is.” I have been here for more than forty years,
and that is exactly how it is: our life is a continual miracle. According to
every secular, worldly, financial, and administrative consideration, we should
have ceased to exist long, long ago.
Russian source:
https://novayagazeta.ru/articles/2025/05/28/ostavatsia-svobodnymi-i-ne-iskat-sponsorov
