The Apocalypse of Our Days

Report of Archbishop Vitaly of Montreal to the Council of Bishops in 1983

 

 

Our pastors and their flock live in contemporary conditions of a particular spirit, which can be called, without the slightest exaggeration or any kind of mystical enthusiasm, pre-apocalyptic. There is no longer anywhere in the whole universe a single ruler or government that governs its people, by the mercy of God, by the grace of the Holy Spirit. The restraining anointed one of God has been taken away from the earth. The Constantinian era of grace-filled rule has come to an end. The last book of Holy Scripture has been opened in life—the Revelation of the holy Apostle John the Theologian. The heir of the Byzantine Empire, the Orthodox Russian state, no longer exists. The whole world has been divided between two forces: on the one hand—militant godless communism, and on the other—the so-called democratic Western world, in which freedom still faintly glimmers. The latter, outwardly, for the superficial observer, is fragmented into countless Christian and non-Christian religions and sects, but inwardly it is bound together, as if with cement, by the spirit of Antichrist.

In the Providence of God, the grace-filled epoch of rule by Orthodox sovereigns was given to us so that we might quietly, freely, and consistently save our souls. The anointed one of God protected us from the unbearable fiery temptation which has now fallen upon the whole world in the form of communism and Masonry. But we, through our sinfulness, became absorbed in vanity. Each one occupied himself with his own craft, his own profession. Doctors, lawyers, engineers, and even simple masters of every kind of work on earth turned their earthly occupations into their religions, giving to them all their time, their strength, and their heart.

For their Orthodox faith, such people had very little space left, if anything remained at all—often only the formal performance of rites, and even that only because it had to be done, because it was customary, because all society lived that way, and one could not fail to keep pace. The Son of God descended from heaven; the Almighty God became Man in order to deify us. Whole hosts of righteous ones, prophets, wonderworkers, and fools-for-Christ passed through our boundless land. The Lord sent us remarkable preachers and profound theologians; the works of all the holy fathers were published, and the Holy Scripture—from pocket format to magnificent liturgical books. Brochures, leaflets, and prayer books were distributed in the millions or sold to our people for mere pennies. In all the dioceses journals and missionary leaflets were printed. And all this, like the prophecies of old, began to grow weak before the boundless vanity into which our people were sinking. Our Russian literature, in the apt expression of Professor Andreyev, always being a kind of spiritual pulpit, vividly reflected the spiritual process of the gradual spiritual fall of our people. From the carefree “old-world landowners,” sunk in the indulgence of culinary pleasures, there began to arise individual boorish Bolsheviks like Nozdryov, and not far beyond there already appeared the outline of the ideological atheist Verkhovensky, from whom there is only one step to Lenin. And what is to be done?

In our, perhaps bold, opinion, the Lord, in order to lead our people out of this dead end of vanity, which is gradually plunging them to the very bottom of hell, commands His angelic host to open the gates of hell and to release upon our people, and after them upon the whole universe (“for judgment begins with My house”), demons who would sting men and awaken them from their sinful sleep. By this final and extreme providential measure, the Lord wishes to bring His people, His own people, to their senses and to lead them out into the light of God. To all the careless laborers who have become absorbed in earthly affairs, sooner or later—and to each one individually—the fatal question will be put: with whom is he? With Christ or with the demon? And this question will be posed not by a bishop, not by a priest, from whom they are accustomed to hear all this and whom they no longer listen to, but by the demon and through his servants, upon whom will depend all the success of earthly life, all the wealth, all the earthly glory of these masses of men absorbed in vanity. What a shock there will be for them, what an upheaval!

“Thou hast made all things in wisdom, O Lord,” and Thou dost make them so. The Lord has compelled the demons to bring the world, which has been absorbed in vanity, to its spiritual essence; and that essence is this: that the Almighty Lord exists, that demons exist, that the Kingdom of Heaven exists, that hell exists, and that this world passes away like a mist. And when such a fatal question is posed, every human soul will tremble, will be entirely changed, will be shaken, yet it must make the inevitable choice; and there will no longer be any place for spiritual neutrality. It will no longer be possible to remain as if aside; it will no longer be possible to maneuver spiritually, to evade, or to hide. No one will be able any longer to take refuge anywhere; everyone will be found, everyone will be brought out from the darkness, from the corners, and there will be an end to every kind of spiritual diplomacy and temporary neutrality. The choice is simple and clear: light or darkness, Christ or Belial.

Your Graces! We have already entered the beginning of the era of this great choice. From beneath our very cathedras the souls of men are being stolen from us; they are being eaten away from within, leaving us only an empty, barren shell. We must know this. This is the pressing reality of the world problem of our days. The temptation is burning, fiery. It stands before us openly, and therefore in this there is both the will of God and God’s permission. We shall be witnesses of astonishing changes in people. Those known to us until now, seemingly pious people, will suddenly become traitors, completely changing their spiritual countenance; and on the contrary, those who until now seemed asleep will become zealots of piety even unto death. Only those will choose Christ and stand on the side of the Lord who personally love Christ—those for whom Christ the Savior and Provider is everything in all things, day and night.

The Lord has permitted all evil forces to take such power upon the earth, such temporary earthly almost-omnipotence, and this situation dictates to us archpastors the application of the most important, eternally effective tactic—to unite all our flock to the almighty grace of God, the Holy Spirit. There are no longer any who assist us in this our pastoral labor: there is no restraining anointed one of God holding back evil, there is no genuine Christian society, and no Christian school. Even the legislation once inspired by the Holy Gospel throughout the Christian world is being replaced, diminished, or simply abolished. We are alone. Before the Archangel’s trumpet shall sound to all born of the earth the great “Let us attend” at the terrible Coming of Christ, we must now say to our flock our own archpastoral “Let us attend,” revealing the picture not of a coming trial, but of the temptation already acting, of the inevitable choice. Let us not deceive ourselves, nor indulge in any illusions: a great multitude of the Orthodox will not endure such a burning trial and will fall with a great fall. Before the earth and all the works that are in it are burned up, everything light and superficial will burn away—everything that trusts in wealth, success, and earthly glory—and there will remain only those who sincerely love Christ, devoted to Him even unto death… loving only Him, their Savior, and no one and nothing else.

Before such a formidable picture of evil already triumphing, it is incumbent upon us archpastors not only to speak a strong word to our flock, but also to set into action all the richness of the gifts of the Holy Spirit, who always abides in the Church of Christ. All our flock has already been made partakers, through all the sacraments, of the grace of the Holy Spirit, and it is fitting for us only, by every accessible means of pastoral labor, to kindle this fire into a flame, to do everything within our power so that, according to the word of the Apostle Paul, we may become all things to all men, that we might save some. As concrete measures, it is necessary to convince all the faithful to abandon the old practice of partaking of the Holy Mysteries only once a year, if anyone still to this day adheres to this little commendable custom. All our pastors should be persuaded themselves to pray before performing the holy mystery of confession, so that the Lord may grant them the gift of love, wisdom, compassion, and mercy. Our entire flock should also be instructed concerning the necessity of praying before going to confession, so that the Lord may grant them the gift of the Holy Spirit of true repentance, the gift of compunction, contrition for their sins, the gift of tears that wash our souls with the water of the second baptism—which our confession ought to be, and not a momentary acknowledgment of one’s sins.

It would also be good for all our publishing houses to print everything that is best, most penetrating, and not routine, that has ever been written in Orthodox spiritual literature about confession and the communion of the Holy Mysteries, this source of the rebirth and renewal of every Christian soul. This must be preached before every fast; lectures must be given about it; small and large gatherings should be organized not only for youth but for everyone, both great and small. At such gatherings it is necessary not only to read lectures, as their organizers often become carried away with, but above all to direct attention to the purely spiritual and formative side of the gathering. Several days should be devoted to questions that a person often carries in his soul for many years without receiving a true Orthodox answer to them. Then a living connection will arise between the souls of the visitors and the pastors; the entire gathering will become prayerful; with each day more and more people will be preparing for communion; and with the daily services it will sooner resemble not a conference but a pilgrimage—which will be the highest summit of the spiritual success of such a gathering.

The aforementioned fiery temptation is already in action and is about to knock at the door of every pastor and every member of the flock. Therefore, pastors must be very vigilant and, as far as possible, visit those among their parishioners who stand upon the ladder of social or material success—those to whom this spiritual ultimatum will first be presented. When visiting them, it should be pointed out that a day will come in their lives when, in their ascent from success to success, they will reach their “ceiling,” and then this ultimatum will be set before them point-blank, and they will feel themselves standing on the edge of a sharp knife. Of course, Your Graces, let us not deceive ourselves: no prior knowledge, however painstaking, however exhaustive of all the twists of evil, knowledge of all the corridors of the underground of hell, will save anyone or rescue anyone, but only a living, personal, fervent love for our Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ. In life one has had occasion to observe how the most subtle investigators of the dark powers ended their existence miserably in their very ranks.

Such are the conditions of contemporary life in which our pastors and our flock live.

 Russian source:

https://sinod.ruschurchabroad.org/Arh%20Sobor%201983%20dokl%20m%20Vitaly%20Apok%20nashih%20dnei.htm

The Walling-Off of Saint Gregory Palamas

Protopresbyter Dimitrios Athanasiou | March 7, 2026

 

 

The walling-off of Saint Gregory Palamas constitutes a pivotal point in the ecclesiastical history and the theology of Orthodoxy, since it is directly connected with his struggle against false doctrines and the defense of Hesychasm.

The basic points that explain the context and the significance of this act follow:

1. The Historical Context

During the 14th century, the so-called “Hesychast Controversy” broke out. The monk Barlaam the Calabrian, coming from the West, accused the hesychast monks of Mount Athos of delusion, maintaining that God is entirely inaccessible and that the “Uncreated Light” which the monks saw during their prayer was created (a human fabrication or a vision).

2. The Act of Walling-Off

It is important to emphasize that for Saint Gregory, walling-off was not an act of schism or rebellion in the worldly sense, but an act of confession.

Let us see some additional details that complete the picture:

a) Saint Gregory considered that when a bishop (in this case Patriarch John XIV Kalekas) proclaims “with bared head” a teaching that comes into opposition with the tradition of the Church, then the cessation of his commemoration is necessary for the safeguarding of the truth.

b) Patriarch Kalekas did not limit himself only to theological disagreements, but also used political authority (in a period of civil war in Byzantium) to imprison Saint Gregory. The walling-off was therefore also a response to the attempt to impose an erroneous theology through violence.

c) As is mentioned, the foundation was Theosis. If the energies of God were “created” (that is, creations), as Barlaam maintained and Kalekas tolerated, then man would never be able to come into real contact with God Himself, but only with His creations. This would annul the entire meaning of Christian salvation.

This stance of Saint Gregory Palamas constitutes to this day the most fundamental argument for those who invoke the sacred canons (such as the 15th Canon of the First-Second Council) in matters of faith, distinguishing walling-off from a simple schism.

3. The Distinction of Essence and Energy

The walling-off was the “instrument” in order for the dogmatic truth formulated by the Saint to be protected:

• God is inaccessible in His Essence.

• God becomes participable (accessible) to man through His Uncreated Energies (such as the Light of the Transfiguration).

4. The Vindication

Despite the persecutions and his imprisonment, Saint Gregory was vindicated triumphantly by the Councils of 1341, 1347, and 1351. His teaching became an official dogma of the Orthodox Church, and he himself was recognized as a “Light of Orthodoxy.”

Important Note: Today, the case of the walling-off of Saint Gregory CONSTITUTES AN EXAMPLE of a “lawful” reaction when it is considered that a matter of alteration of the faith is raised, according to the 15th Canon of the First-Second Council.

 

Greek source:

https://fdathanasiou-parakatathiki.blogspot.com/2026/03/blog-post_31.html

Who has an easier life, those who believe in God or those who do not?

A Homily on the Day of the Venerable Sergius of Radonezh

Protopresbyter Alexander Zhelobovsky (+1910)

 

 

Let not mercy and faith fail you: bind them about your neck, and write them upon the tablets of your heart, and you will find grace. Prov. 3:3.

 

Wise words of the Biblical Sage! I recall them on this bright day of honoring the great pleaser of God, the Venerable Sergius, because this righteous man—dear to us both by the Russian land, [1] and by this temple dedicated to his name, [2] and by his being chosen as the Patron of all our glorious Artillery [3]—dear for all these reasons, in the multitude of virtues that adorned his holy soul, especially shone in almsgiving and faith.

Let us not enumerate the many instances in which the Wonderworker of Radonezh manifested these wondrous qualities: whoever wishes will find and read them in his Life.

Let us point to one fact very characteristic for our purpose, namely: St. Sergius, after the death of his parents, having inherited great wealth, distributed it to the poor, and he himself, moved by firm faith in God, the Father and Provider, settled in a wild, impassable forest. This self-denial, imbued with love for God and neighbor, brought down upon him grace; to the solitary hermit there flocked in great numbers for counsel and consolation both the rich and the poor, both common people and princes; they settled near him in order more often to see his radiant face and hear his wise word, and they laid the beginning of the monastery which, through the prayers of the great pleaser of God, became so renowned that every year from all ends of Russia it attracts to itself thousands, tens of thousands of pilgrims.

The words of the Wise Man were fulfilled, strikingly justified in the man of God: let them not fail you; bind almsgiving and faith about your neck, and write them upon the tablets of your heart, and you will find grace.

And now, in an age of egoism and materialism, in an age of doubt and unbelief, even now, if one looks at life more attentively, we will easily notice that grace dwells in the souls of God-fearing and merciful people. It is easier—far easier—for a believing and loving person to live in the world than for one who is godless and hard-hearted.

The life of man on earth is not fair: sin has subjected him to heavy labor, to manifold sorrows, and finally to death; life is a struggle both material and moral.

In the sweat of your face you shall eat your bread (Gen. 3:19)—the dreadful word spoken to the fallen forefather Adam—applies to all his descendants. Neither did we eat any man’s bread for nothing; but with labor and travail, working night and day. If any would not work, neither should he eat (2 Thess. 3:8–10), the chief Apostle Paul proclaims to us. And we see that people work in order to exist, in order to live. There was a time when occupation gave a man consolation and joy; there was such a happy time, but it has passed away irrevocably: this was in Eden—in paradise. Now it is quite different; now labor is a sorrowful necessity; a man bears it as an obligation for sin, and often with exhaustion of strength, with failures, ungratefully.

It is not easy to labor, yet it is necessary. And what do you think—who finds it easier to work: the believer or the unbeliever? The unbeliever, whether he be a farmer, or a merchant, or a seafarer, or a scholar, or a warrior, works relying on his own strength, on his own skill, on help from nature and from neighbors. But our strength is weak; skill is feeble; nature is changeable; men are unreliable. Often, very often, one careless step, one unforeseen phenomenon of nature, one deceitful man destroys our long and strenuous labors. Always with anxiety in his heart, with a heavy thought in his soul, does the man of little faith, who does not know God, set about his work; every accident frightens him. Around and about he observes how shaky, how unstable calculations are—even those apparently the most well considered, the most well founded. It is not so with the man who trusts in God; his hope is sure, not deceptive. He calmly endures every burden; he boldly contends with every danger, because his Helper is God almighty, the Father most merciful, the Benefactor who seeks nothing for Himself. A believing man, whatever his rank and condition may be, works and prays, prays and works: he knows that a man’s steps are directed by the Lord. Though he fall, he shall not be utterly cast down, for the Lord upholds his hand (Ps. 36:23–24); with faith in God he is nowhere and never afraid, nowhere and never weighed down. A blessed condition.

“The kindest, the most pious people,” they will say to us, “are not spared on earth from troubles, sorrows, illnesses, and they also must endure and suffer.” We do not dispute it. But what an immeasurable, striking difference there is between the sufferings of an unbelieving man and of a believing one! One, in misfortune, curses fate, pours out malice upon everything around him, and becomes embittered against the whole world of God; the other bears the cross that has fallen to his lot obediently, with good spirit, humbly, as the Divine Cross-bearer—Christ—taught him. A believing man remembers that God directs all the events of his life—that not even a hair falls from his head without the will of the Lord—that the Heavenly Father Himself directs even punishments toward good ends; he keeps this in his mind and without murmuring gives himself over under the mighty hand of the King of Heaven (1 Pet. 5:6). In the most grievous moments, the thought of the wise and good Divine Providence calms the sufferer: together with King David in every sorrow, he will say: I remembered God, and was glad (Ps. 76:3)—“I remembered God, and was calmed and comforted!” “As it pleased the Lord, so it came to pass”—no other words will you hear from the believer, however difficult it may be for him in life.

But if ever faith in God is necessary and saving for a man, it is at the hour of death. There, at the passage from one world to another, no one and nothing except the Church and Religion will help the dying man. Before the face of death powerless are science, wealth, glory, and even friendship; only the deeply believing Christian meets it without fear. For him to live is Christ, and to die is gain (Phil. 1:21); for him death is rest.

Quite different is the end of a man who does not know God: everything that occupied him in life, everything on which he spent his strength and abilities—all this at the hour of death becomes hateful and displeasing. In the soul there is felt emptiness, bitter reproaches for the past and hopeless fear for the future. The Lord God Himself, for believers the Father and Benefactor, appears to the godless man at the hour of death as a Terrible Judge and inexorable Punisher: with horror and despair he departs to the other world.

It is difficult to live, and still more difficult to die without faith, without God, without religion. Pitiful—unspeakably pitiful—are all unbelievers. In the difficult moments of life (and they must experience them so many times and so often), in the difficult moments of life they have neither consolation nor strengthening.

Not without reason does the Biblical sage unite almsgiving with faith: let not almsgiving and faith fail you—so he proclaims. These two holy virtues are not conceivable one without the other: if anyone says, I love God, and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen, how can he love God whom he has not seen?—holy words of Holy Scripture (1 John 4:20).

The present great feast in honor of the lofty representative of faith in God and mercy toward neighbors, in honor of the pleaser of God dear to the Russian heart, the Venerable Sergius of Radonezh, for us—the parishioners of the Sergius Cathedral—is especially brightly memorable in that on this day, 18 years ago, the Brotherhood of Sergius was opened for the aid of homeless children, orphans, and helpless aged women.

By the wise dispensation of God, through the prayers of the great righteous man now honored, and by the zeal of benefactors, on this same ever-memorable day a new, private Brotherhood house has been prepared for consecration [4] for the housing of the “shelter and almshouse.” The acquisition of its own house for a shelter of orphans and aged women in the Sergius parish constituted the object of the most fervent desires of the members of the Brotherhood. Now the good desire has been fulfilled; now we feel like saying: This is the day of the Lord; rejoice, O people!

We rejoice and invite all for whom the sorrow and need of orphanhood and old age are not strangers—we invite all good people to rejoice with us, to look upon the new house, the “Shelter–Almshouse” of the Sergius Brotherhood, and there today, immediately after the liturgy, to pray with us with a grateful and tearful prayer to the common Benefactor of all, the Heavenly Father.

Hear, beloved. Remember, and never forget, that all truly lofty, selflessly good manifestations of social life are the fruits of our Holy Faith and Church. The Christian Religion is a Religion of love and truth: its faithful followers both were and are the best members of the family and of society. The history of all ages and of all peoples conveys to us that comforting, indisputable truth—that the believing man always was and is kinder and more honest, and happier in life, than the atheist and the indifferentist, than the godless man and the man of little faith.

We believe, O Lord, we believe not with tongue and word, but with deed and truth; we believe—help our unbelief.

Those who love God, teaches the Holy Apostle Paul, to those who love God all things work together for good (Rom. 8:28).

 

Notes

1. He was born, lived, and struggled for salvation near Moscow. There also, in the Sergius Lavra, his holy relics repose.

2. The Sergius Cathedral [in St. Petersburg]

3. The Sergius Cathedral of the entire Artillery.

4. On Furshtadskaya Street, house No. 13.

 

Russian source:

https://azbyka.ru/otechnik/Aleksandr_Zhelobovskij/komu-legche-zhivetsja-na-svete-veruyushhemu-v-boga-ili-neveruyushhemu/

The Royal Path of Moderation in our Age of Excess

From Words of Counsel by Archbishop [Metropolitan] Chrysostomos of Etna to the Brotherhood of the St. Gregory Palamas Monastery

 

Regarding our society, if anything aptly describes it, it is the word “excess.” We have more than we need. We greedily find no satisfaction in our surfeit. We do not hesitate to exploit and defile our environment. The media no longer report the news with objectivity and in a spirit of constraint, so that what we hear about world events is tainted by sensationalism and unrestrained emotion, dampening any sense of the circumspect, moderate contemplation of all phenomena—spiritual or secular—to which the Church Fathers beckon us. As a consequence, some voices even espouse hatred, divisive vengeance, and ugliness in the name of Christ. In the guise of piety and righteousness, inspired and mocked by the Evil One, various firebrands fulminate against ills in the Church with unwise zeal, thinking that they are upholding traditional Orthodox teaching. In fact, the general spirit of excess in the world around us has utterly blinded us to the meaning of Christian moderation (which is grounded in, accommodates, and fosters love) and has produced a crazed vision of the world and of the Patristic spirit that is as shocking as it is dangerous.

Our society has come to call peace, silence, reserve, careful consideration, and reflection “lukewarmness,” abusing Christ’s admonition about the needful warmth of our confession, our love, and our fellowship and confusing that “warmth within the heart” with the cold, disrespectful, bombastic discourse of the world—discourse, again, that has entered into the Church in a spirit of spitefulness and hate contrary to Christianity. Indeed, when St. Paul, writing to the Hebrews, calls us to zeal in “holding to the Faith,” he immediately juxtaposes this exhortation with a clarion call to “love” and “good works” (see Hebrews 10:23- 24—Editor). Those who separate zeal from love he describes as “having trodden on the Son of God” by their wrath and vengeance, reckoning them worthy of punishment for having insulted the spirit of Grace: “τό πνεύμα τής χάριτος ένυβρίσας” (Hebrews 10:29—Editor). Indeed, moderation in love is necessary even in the defense of our Faith, however misunderstood and ignored that point may be today.

Yoked to the indispensability of moderation in Orthodox spiritual life, I inexorably and sedulously enjoin our faithful to follow what ancient wisdom and the Greek Fathers call the βασιλική οδός, or the Royal Path; i.e., moderation in all things—μηδέν άγαν (nothing in excess). Moral virtue, the acquisition of love, and union with Christ, the means and ends of true Christian life, rest flatly on the foundation of moderation and an avoidance of excess in all things. The Patristic imperative that we remain moderate in all things, as I said earlier, also applies to public life. If souls are threatened by excess and extremism in the name of fidelity to the Faith, minds and values are imperiled by political and social extremism. We have seen this in America of late. We have been witnesses to a hateful, mean, condemnatory polarization of views in our society. I would like to comment on this problem.

As, in the realm of faith, atheism has taken on a bellicose and offensive tone—a paradoxically intense preoccupation with God by individuals who claim that He does not exist—and Christian rejoinders to it have at times been far too polemical, so in American political life a similar extremism has taken hold on both the right and the left. It is wholly inimical to democratic principles, decent discourse, and respectful disagreement of the type that should be cultivated by good citizens. Crude, disgraceful rhetoric in political campaigns is nothing new to American politics. However, the continuation of inter-party enmity and vulgarity into post-election politics manifests itself today with an intensity heretofore almost unknown. On both the left and right, we hear partisan rhetoric that is divisive, seditious, wholly reprehensible, and reminiscent of political disputants in some “banana republic,” not the American Republic. All of this, as I have said, is reflective of a society of excess and extremism and the antipathy and selfishness that they reinforce.

Let the Orthodox Church not seek the power to speak decisively to political issues in a pluralistic democracy, in rendering to Caesar what is his; but neither let it relinquish its right to uphold Christian standards of conduct and to advocate that spirit of moderation and love that is a foundation of Patristic teachings. The Church does have a right to oppose such things as abortion, to confront secularization, and to express its opinion of the violation of moral laws dear to the Christian witness, though in a moderate way. In opposing abortion we cannot countenance the killing of physicians who perform abortions. In calling for a lawful society and order, we are not permitted to endorse fascism and racism. In justly guarding our country’s borders and security, we cannot lose the Christian high ground by refusing to share our wealth with others and by ignoring the poor. Moderation and love must prevail in all things; otherwise, our conservatism, traditionalism, and firm moral teachings— having been defiled by excess and extremism—will become “as sounding brass,” to quote St. Paul (I Corinthians 13:1—Editor.)

Politicians or leaders who lack an Orthodox outlook, who speak— whether from the extreme right or left—in language that is turgid, degrading, pompous, inflammatory, excessive, hate-filled, and repugnant, we should not follow. When we follow them, we defile our faith, reduce ourselves to social refuse, and render to Caesar what is not his. A Christian cannot, in the name of freedom, make gods of tyrants and demagogues. We should not follow those who preach in the words of atheism gone wild or of religion gone astray. In supporting a political ideology of any kind, a Christian must not show conduct that makes a mockery of our Orthodox confession or the teachings of Christ, Who, while on earth, acted with discipline, respected order, advocated lawfulness. Christ asked of His followers, as He does those of us who cling to Him now, moderation, love, forgiveness, sacrifice, and a recognition of the dignity and free will of all. He would have as vehemently opposed depraved non-believers on the left who hate and compromise our Christian beliefs as He would have chided those on the right who, in some twisted, cult-created travesty of Christianity, call upon His Name to preach and foster hatred.

A true Christian, standing in the middle of a two-way road, risks the onslaught of those in the left and right lane. A true Christian awaits such an eventuality as part of the life in Christ. Orthodox in Byzantium died in huge numbers at the hands of misguided, rapacious Christian Crusaders and marauding Islamic invaders bent on the extermination of Christian “infidels.” Untold millions of Orthodox perished in the concentration camps of evil Stalin’s Godless socialist paradise, while Hitler’s fascist death camps claimed, in the name of Rechi und Ordnung (law and order), the lives of countless Orthodox Greeks (including some of my own relatives), Serbs (under the Nazi Croatian state), and Russians— not to mention millions of innocent Jews, Gypsies, and social and religious dissenters of all kinds. These things attest both to the evil of immoderation (in these instances, of a political kind) and the price that we must pay in witnessing to the malevolence of extremism.

The liberal or conservative in the service of hatred and violence is an inevitable product of the abandonment of moderation and love. Reckless militarism and reactionary theocracy—of which we Orthodox are not just victims, but of which, in our lesser moments, we have also been guilty—are similar products. Every liberal utopian fantasy that eschews God, a vision of Supreme Good, or a grounding in Divine Law, spawning anarchy and amorality, is likewise such a product. Liberalism and conservatism that violate the Royal Path work in consort with iniquity, eventually leading to such deadly ills as Communism and fascism. In fact, extremism in the service of anything is a precursor to evil.

Heed we must—and with great care, given the intemperate undercurrents in our country today—the message of the Gospel and the Lathers in every aspect of our lives, whether political, social, or religious. It is a message of moderation and love. The Royal Path avoids all extremism and excess, avoiding the lukewarmness of those not formed in love and those unstirred by heated action in love. We must seek the fervor of constant moderation and love, following God, Who repudiates “extremity” even in His righteous wrath (Job 35:15—Editor).

 

Source: Orthodox Tradition, Vol. XXVIII (2011), No. 1, pp. 9-11.

On Self-Justification: A Talk by Bishop [Metropolitan] Photii of Triaditza

May 14, 2005 (Old Style)

 

 

This evening, with the help of our Lord, it is my intention to speak with you about self-justification—something that we all know from our personal experience, something from which all of us suffer, and something which is one of the more serious hindrances and obstacles on the path to salvation. And this last utterance of mine about self-justification is not at all hyperbolic.

Listen, please, to the following short excerpt from the instructions of Saint Seraphim of Sofia. The Saint asked of his spiritual children the question: “Why is self-justification so destructive?” In response to the reply that self-justification shows a lack of humility, the Archbishop said: “Rather, it is because there cannot be real repentance in the presence of self-justification; and without repentance, there can be no salvation.” I implore you to note this: “In the presence of self-justification there can be no real repentance”; or, in other words, repentance—true repentance—is incompatible with self-justification.

Self-justification is a passion that manifests itself in different ways. This we know. At times, it gushes forth like a fountain. A man utters a plethora of words, absolutely senseless and pernicious from a spiritual point of view, by which he wishes to defend himself against a certain attack or accusation. All of us know how a monastic should behave in such instances, when he is being accused or reproached, or when some misunderstanding occurs in his everyday relationships, and so on. If you are accused of something that you have not done, you should say: “Forgive me, but I have not done this!” If your accuser persists in accusing you of the same thing, you should remain silent or simply say: “Forgive me!” Well, that is the spiritual essence of the matter, and the way to it is indubitably difficult. It is difficult because the “self’ is firmly rooted in our sinful, fallen nature, and it reacts spontaneously, from within, through self-justification, whenever someone stings it. [1]

A person pursues justification partly for himself; i.e., to deceive his own conscience. One also strives to justify himself so as not to sully his prestige in the eyes of the others. (This is silly, but such things are customarily so.) And he can do this even without thinking about it. He may not even reflect, not intentionally reasoning thusly at all. Yet, this impulse rises out of his heart, like pus from a wound. One may stand in front of an Icon, being overtaken by feelings of repentance, which is good. But here our problems begin. If, after a certain period of time, we begin to justify ourselves, this means that our repentance—even though we may have initially repented sincerely—is not authentic, not from the very bottom of our heart; for self-justification is still alive in our heart.

In another place, Saint Seraphim tells us: “It is easy to humble yourself before God, while to humble yourself before people is more difficult.” Indeed, it is precisely the ability or inability to humble ourselves before our neighbors that shows whether or not there is real repentance within us: whether or not we are walking along the right path of spiritual life. You must work on this. You have plenty of opportunities every day. Be vigilant about how you behave, about how you react when you are being reproved, when someone does something in a way that displeases you, and especially when someone unintentionally (or wittingly) pricks your self-esteem deeply.

You all know the instruction of Bishop Varnava (Beliaev): “I require nothing from you, neither abstinence from food, nor sleeping on bare boards, nor long prayers, but only that you constantly reproach yourself for everything and in every instance. This is my advice to you and my very heartfelt wish.... It is necessary that you consider yourselves guilty at all times and in all matters, even if you may be accused unjustly. You have to know that God has sent this on account of some sin, which was perhaps committed many years ago. You must always reproach yourselves, humbling yourselves to such an extent that, whatever insult you may encounter, you are able to say, ‘Forgive me!’ This is the shortest way to receive grace, whereas the other ways are very long. On this path, no guidance is needed, whereas on the others it is necessary.” Well, we know this and we have read it. Yet, what do we do? Do we in fact feel truly guilty, whenever we are accused? Do we feel spiritually guilty in essence, or are we not just saying: “Yes, yes, I am guilty. But look, in this situation, he or she was wrong,” “And what about this?”—and so on. One starts to think, somehow, uni-dimensionally, completely earthbound, as a first reaction, even persuading himself of his rightness. But all of these things, being self-justificatory, impede and choke the soul.

It is thus truly evident that self-justification and humility are incompatible. Humility is bound to repentance. So, what real repentance can we offer without humility? They are inseparable. I beg you not to deceive yourselves with the following thought: “Well, here our life is so harried. We have so much work that I do not have time to examine my soul. How is it possible to be spiritually vigilant?” According to a certain woman ascetic, one cannot always find peace for his soul in external silence and tranquility. On the contrary, often, if not always, at times of external tranquility, a storm of passions is gathering in the soul. When you are in seclusion—i.e., should someone tell you, “All right, you are free from all your duties, retire in that cell over there and pray”—, for the first hours or the first few days, you will be the happiest of all men on the earth. But if this seclusion continues for many days, or for a week or for a longer time, see then what happens. The passions begin to gush out from the very depth of our hearts, even though we may not have even suspected that these existed; whereas when one humbles himself, wishing to do different obediences, trying to serve and humble himself before his neighbor from the bottom of his heart, God helps us—God cleanses us. God’s grace cleanses. When you are alone for a long time and come to see fully the dreadfulness which is inside of you, then despondency and despair will immediately knock on the door of your heart and your mind. For this reason, let us not accuse the circumstances; such an accusation indirectly falls upon God Himself. Look at the times we are living in; they are really very difficult. Well then, since God’s will for us is to live in this time, consequently there is a way of salvation. The matter is to walk it through. That is it: to walk it through.

And one more thing: We need patience. This word is often mentioned, and in most cases as the consolation (not exactly the consolation, but rather, more precisely, the instruction): “Have patience!” But what is patience? That is the question. Real (spiritual) patience gives the soul persistence in the striving after prayer, persistence in the decisive struggle with one’s passions, and persistence in the striving to acquire the virtues of the Gospels. And this is a very, very important quality. We are lacking in persistence, becoming like a reed shaken in the wind, of which God speaks in the Gospel. Persistence in spiritual life is of extreme importance, yet we hardly pay attention to it. Never mind that we are like a reed that sways hither and thither; never mind that we fall: we must be persistent. Persistence means to get up, again and again, after you have fallen along the path to the Lord, with your cross on your shoulder. You may have seen an ant carrying a bit of straw, trying to climb a hill, yet being unable to do so. It may go up and down a hundred times—up and down. Yet, each time that it slips back, it strives to go up again. But we only try a few times, when we fail, and then give up. And then we make a tragedy out of it—or a catastrophe.

Now, if one really tries to be patient and acquires persistence, with God’s help, the very next important step, which is mentioned by the Holy Fathers, is courage. Courage is the decisiveness to lead a spiritual life and to wage a spiritual battle, a struggle which is of a different kind. Courage means decisiveness at any cost. It means to follow Christ and to battle against all things that impede our path. It means to fight against all obstacles that our passions and the Devil place between us and the Lord. And then patience becomes not a passive feeling (when one hears the word “patience,” he imagines the words, “Sit there now and be patient!”), but an active sensitivity. This occurs when there is persistence, when there is courage. One walks towards the things we are now talking about, step by step. You have food in your bags for the journey; you have a walking stick as well: these are all of the instructions that Matushka Seraphima [the late Princess Olga Lieven, who left the world, entered the monastic life, and became Abbess of the Protection Convent in Sofia, Bulgaria—Editor] has left you as an inheritance. This is your food, your sustenance for that journey.

All of you have heard what other people have wanted to hear, but were not able to. You have seen what others would like to have seen, but did not. (I think that I have said this to you before.) So, our responsibility is really enormous. God shall judge us strictly, more strictly than many others. This must not scare us, though; on the contrary, it should revive in our heart’s patience, persistence, and courage, qualities that are so much needed for the spiritual life. May the Lord help us to sharpen our persistence and direct our courage to struggle against the “me” of our egos, against “self-centeredness” and its terrible offspring, self-justification. At any rate, let us struggle, at the outset, against our desire to proffer a whole fountain of words, in order to justify ourselves when something happens to annoy us. Then let us strive not to let this feeling sting the heart, since one can keep himself from saying something, while inside the heart things may be entirely different. Somehow, one feels hurt, something inside is pained, and your spirit falls. Why? Because there is a wound. Who is the wounded one? Your pride, your “self-centeredness” —the very things against which we must struggle. Indeed, we must even wish for these wounds, because without them it is impossible for us to be healed. These wounds are like therapy; they are wounds which heal us. God arranges all of this for our own good; yet, instead, we resist Him. But this is the rejection of the right hand of God. Think about it: “No, I do not want it. You are trying to heal me, now, but I do not want it!” Why? “Because this grieves me and makes me feel sad.” Who is being grieved? Your pride, your “self-centeredness.” Self-justification is simply a defense mechanism.

So, let us not be afraid to lose everything, in order to acquire, at the very least, the beginnings of patience and of humility. ...Let us not be afraid to pass, indeed, through the desert of despondency, in which the soul loses all that she has and becomes poor. It becomes poor and feels unable even to move; for when one comes to know his infirmity more deeply, it is through this path that he can reach humility and the renunciation of his own self. It hurts; the path through the desert is difficult; our “self-centeredness” and pride can barely endure the feeling of being absolutely poor, useless, and weak. But if one ventures on, passing through the desert, consolation will follow, along with peace and happiness, as these are gifts of God’s Grace and the fruits of humility. Amen.

 

Notes

1. Fulgentius, the fifth-century ecclesiastical writer, says that the demons fell because of their pride and that they are turned inward, looking at themselves and not towards God. In a similar way, man, being lured by the demons' suggestions that he can become a human god, is primarily turned in on his own self. This happens to all of us, in spite of the fact that we carry in our hearts the gift of God's Grace, which we receive through the Holy Mysteries, and particularly in Holy Communion. This is how matters stand, since we lack the true decisiveness to turn away from ourselves and towards God.

 

Source: Orthodox Tradition, Vol. XXIII (2006), No. 2, pp. 32-35.

 

Fanaticism and Syncretism: Two Dangerous Extremes and the "Royal Path" of Orthodoxy

New Year Encyclical for 2003

 

 

Beloved children in the Lord:

At the outset of the New Year of Salvation 2003, I pray wholeheartedly that this period of time will be pleasing to God and that we will all feel an ever-increasing sense of responsibility and reverence towards the truth of our Faith; may there also be a constant increase in our participation in the life in Christ, through the intercessions of our Lady Theotokos and of all the Saints.

The events that have occurred since the tragedy of September 11, 2001, to date, as well as those which are still unfolding, confirm an assertion that I made last year: that “humanity has clearly entered into a new and critical era, which gives rise to pointed and agonizing issues.” [1] In the globalized society of our day and, in particular, at the very dawn of a new century and the third millennium, two very ominous dangers have come to the forefront: fanaticism and syncretism, both of which appear in many forms.

On the right is found fanaticism, which is typically politicized, extremist, and xenophobic. With its recourse to violence, aggressiveness, and bigotry, it completely destroys the Orthodox ethos, which is an ethos of love, compassion, receptivity, reconciliation, hospitableness, freedom, and moderation. On the left, we find syncretism, which is excessively permissive, compromising, dialectical, contrived, and worldly. It minimizes the importance of Orthodox dogma, which limpidly demarcates the realms of truth and error, of the Church and the world, of Light and darkness, of Christ and Satan.

Our most holy Orthodox Church, as the “Royal Path,” [2] is situated precisely in the middle, steadfastly avoiding temptations and dangers from the right and from the left, which threaten to adulterate her charismatic witness, that veritable “Truth and Life” which the God-Man affirms Himself to be. [3]

Fanaticism, aggressive and bigoted, is not a product of some lack of cooperation between religions; nor will interfaith cooperation succeed in confronting it effectively, or at its roots, as some suppose. Tolerance per se is not what is asked of the Church, the duty of which is to maintain a missionary outlook towards the religions of the world— though it certainly must be encouraged at the level of governments and humanitarian movements. And there, too, we should not foster any illusions; indeed, toleration is neither easy to attain nor to preserve, since there will always be two uncertain factors to reckon with—namely, human passions and the Devil.

The Orthodox Church knows only one kind of peace: that which proceeds from the cleansing, illuminating, and sanctifying Grace of the Holy Spirit, which heals the passions and puts the Devil to flight. It behooves Shepherds of the Church, instead of pursuing some chimaera by means of interfaith cooperation, to work night and day to make their flocks truly Christian.

Patristic teaching on this subject is unanimous: When a Christian has the peace of God in his heart, then the entire world around him is at peace.

Today, the teaching of St. Seraphim of Sarov, deriving from his own experience, is timely as never before:

I beseech you, my joy—said the peace-loving Staretz—I beseech you, acquire the spirit of peace.... It brings peace to the soul, and, at the same time, it brings peace to all mankind and to nature, as well.... Acquire inner peace, and thousands of souls around you will find peace. [4]

St. John Chrysostomos also abruptly awakens us from the lethargy of spiritual negligence by his preeminently social and missionary message:

No one would be a pagan—thunders the Saint—if we were such Christians as we ought to be. If we kept the commandments of Christ, if we suffered injury, if we allowed advantage to be taken of us, if being reviled we blessed, if being ill-treated we did good. If this were the general practice among us, no one would be so brutish as not to rush to embrace the true Faith. [5]

Orthodox Christians should have a heightened sense of responsibility and reverence towards the Truth of the Faith, as well as “a consciousness of the exclusivity of the truth: we believe in the only truth and participate experientially in the only saving Faith.” [6] This consciousness of exclusivity will never give rise to fanaticism, because a genuine Mysteriological union with the Theanthropos makes us true Christians, engendering genuine feelings of love, humility, and guilelessness towards our fellow man.

It was this attitude towards the truth that enabled Orthodox anti-ecumenists to detect, from the very outset, the syncretistic nature of the ecumenical movement and the calendar innovation of 1924. It should not escape us that the official inauguration of ecumenism in the Orthodox East also entailed syncretism vis-a-vis the Festal Calendar, insofar as it foresaw the acceptance by Orthodox and heterodox “of a unified calendar for the simultaneous celebration of the great Christian feasts by all of the Churches.” [7]

Moreover, within the purview of this festal syncretism, the so- called Pan-Orthodox Congress of Constantinople was convened, in 1923, as the final step towards the calendar innovation. Those participating in the congress emphasized, in particular, the necessity “of the simultaneous celebration of the [two] major Christian feasts of Christmas and Pascha by all Christians,” so as to effect “the rapprochement of the two Christian worlds of the East and the West in the celebration of [all of] the major Christian feasts.” [8]

It is quite obvious, therefore, that the adoption of the calendar innovation in 1924, as the practical first-step of ecumenism, reflected a diminished sense of responsibility towards the truth and a syncretistic mentality. This was confirmed by steps taken subsequently, thus confirming as eminently true the opinion of a distinguished Hierarch of our day, who maintains that inter-Christian and interfaith ecumenism “is the greatest error of our age, the greatest and most powerful temptation.” [9]

I would like to conclude with a message of hope and love.

From what I have said above, it follows that the negative attitude of Old Calendarist Orthodox anti-ecumenists towards inter-Christian and interfaith ecumenism does not constitute fanaticism, but represents, rather, a rejection of syncretism and a God-pleasing adherence to the exclusivity of the truth.

The Holy Synod in Resistance is not indifferent to the truly sacred demand for the union of divided Christians; nor does it oppose efforts to bring about reconciliation in a severely fragmented world.

What we do radically reject is the ethos of the syncretistic ecumenical movement, which is literally a “defilement of dialogue,” [10] as a well-known university professor has stated.

Our responsibility for the Truth, our union with the Truth, and our witness to the Truth constitute the most fundamental expression of love for the world and preserve the hope of both East and West. This is why we struggle, and this is why we will continue to struggle, by the Grace of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

+ Metropolitan Cyprian of Oropos and Fili

 

Translated from the Greek periodical Άγιος Κυπριανός, No. 312 (January - February 2003), pp. 193-195, 199. Though somewhat dated, the importance of this Encyclical has nonetheless prompted us to publish it on the cusp of 2004.

Notes

1. See “New Year Encyclical for 2002.”

2. Cf. Numbers 20:17-21:22.

3. Cf. St. John 14:6.

4. Irina Gorainoff, Άγιος Σεραφείμ τοϋ Σάρωφ (1759-1833) [St. Seraphim of Sarov (1759-1833)] (Athens: “Tinos” Publications, n.d.), p. 255.

5. Homily 10 on the First Epistle to St. Timothy, S3, Patrologia Grceca, Vol. LXII, col. 551.

6. Stylianos G. Papadopoulos, 1Ορθοδόξων Πορεία-Έκκλησία και Θεολογία στψ τρίτη χιλιετία [The Course of the Orthodox: Church and Theology in the Third Millennium] (Athens: 2000), p. 134.

7. “Synodal Encyclical of the Church of Constantinople to the Churches of Christ Everywhere” (January 1920), in Basil K. Stavrides, Ιστορία τής Οικουμενικής Κινήσεως [A History of the Ecumenical Movement], Analekta of the Vlatadon Monastery, No. 47 (Thessaloniki: Patriarchal Institute for Patristic Studies, 1996); 3rd ed., p. 334.

8. Dionysios M. Batistatos (ed.), Πρακτικά και ’Αποφάσεις τοϋ εν Κων- σταντινουπόλει Πανορθοδόξου Σιη’εδρίου, 10 Μαΐου-8 Ιουνίου 1923 [Proceedings and Decisions of the Pan-Orthodox Congress in Constantinople, 10 May-8 June 1923] (Athens: 1982), pp. 56, 57.

9. Metropolitan Hierotheos of Navpaktos and Hagios Vlasios, “Διαχριστιανικός καί διαθρησκειακός συγκρητισμός” [“Inter-Christian and Interfaith Syncretism”], Εκκλησιαστική Παρέμβαση, No. 71 (December 2001), p. 11.

10. Chrestos Yannaras, “Ή βεβήλωση τοϋ διαλόγου” [“The Defilement of Dialogue”], Ή Καθημερινή, 17 March 2002, p. 10.

 

Source: Orthodox Tradition, Vol. XXI (2004), No. 1, pp. 23-26

The Spiritual Character and Paternal Legacy of Archbishop [St.] Seraphim (Sobolev) of Blessed Memory

On the Fiftieth Anniversary of the Commemoration of His Repose (February 13/26, 1950)

By the Sisterhood of the Convent of the Holy Protection Sofia, Bulgaria

 

 

PREFACE

by His Eminence, Bishop [Metropolitan] Photii of Triaditza

“I will glorify those who glorify Me" (I Kings 2:30)

The fiftieth anniversary of the repose of Archbishop Seraphim (Sobolev) (1881-1950) will fall in the coming year (2000). His name is dear and close to the hearts of all of us. Many of us are not contemporaries of Archbishop Seraphim; indeed, only a few of us knew him personally. However, a child’s trusting and simple love for Vladyka [the Slavic term for “Master,” a pious appellation for an Orthodox Bishop— Trans.], be it ever so hesitant and fickle, flickers somewhere deep in our hearts, which are wounded by sin. This love of ours is a response, as far as such lies within us, to his overwhelming paternal love for us.

The stream of believers to the tomb of the ever-memorable Hierarch [in the Russian Church of St. Nicholas, in Sofia—Trans.] has not ceased over the last half century. Through the respect of the people, God glorifies His chosen one, whose earthly life was a marvellous glorification of the Creator. Angelic chastity, unusual humility and humble-mindedness, overflowing love for God and neighbor, perspicacity, and Grace-filled help, given on many occasions—these things delineate the radiant image of his holiness.

According to St. John of Damascus, “We honor the Saints because they are united to God, have received Him as an indweller, and have become by Grace, through participation in Him, what He is Himself by nature” (Exact Exposition of the Orthodox Faith, Book IV, ch. 15, Patrologia Grceca, Vol. XCIV, col. 1164B). If we wish truly to love and honor Vladyka Seraphim, all we need do is simply strive to remain his children. This internal nexus between spiritual child and spiritual Father is an intimate one. The deeper it is, the more it modestly avoids external ostentation. If only we could assimilate through our minds, hearts, and consciousness at least a portion of the Grace-filled mind, heart, and consciousness of Vladyka Seraphim, which streamed from his entire Christ-like personality. Let us walk to the end the path which he paved through such an arduous spiritual podvig. Let a spark of his childlike faith and ardent love for the Savior consume all of our complexity—all of our cunning—, our lack of faith, our small-mindedness, our self-love, and our love of sin. Let him guide us on the way to truth, which he himself traversed to the end. For the snares of falsehood and its father, the Evil One, dog us at every step: Can we survive, by ourselves, on the path towards Truth, given the confusion of the contemporary world, which rejects Christ, and the many temptations that eat away at the fife of our Church? Can we tell the difference between zeal and fanaticism? Can we tell the difference between a Grace-filled warmth of heart and unhealthy feelings, sentimentalism, and prelest in spiritual life? Can we draw the line between strictness and harshness? Can we discern the boundary beyond which a mild manner and gentleness degenerate into pleasing men?

Indeed, we can stumble at any step. But we implore our beloved Father not to leave us. Let us wish time and time again to be his children. Let us wish to belong to Christ, now and forever. Let us wish this, despite our weaknesses and despite our unworthiness. It is doubtless for this reason that, when we serve a Panikhida to our ever-memorable Father, Archbishop Seraphim, our souls are filled with a feeling of special brightness; and so it is that, when with our mouths we sing, “Grant rest, O Lord, to the soul of Thy departed servant,” our hearts tremble as they whisper: “O radiant Father Seraphim, pray to God for us.”

+ Bishop Photii Primate of the True (Old Calendar) Orthodox Church of Bulgaria

+ + +

On November 1/14, 1920, the flagship “Chersonese” slowly left the port of Sebastopol and put out into the open sea. This was the last ship to depart from the port before the invasion of the Bolsheviks. On board were six hundred cadets under the leadership of General Ilchaninov and General Stogov, the commandant of Sebastopol. They were all fleeing the country for good. At the quay, many people waved good-bye to their friends and relatives on board the receding ship. The refugees gazed sadly at the fading coastline of their motherland, and all of their human hopes were dashed. Crucified like a martyr at its Golgotha, Russia was vanishing from sight. Amid clouds of dust, the Bolshevik cavalry could be seen advancing on the town.

A young Bishop of medium height, with a pale, haggard face, was standing among the refugees.

“Vladyka, give your blessing to Russia,” a man entreated him.

Hiding his emotions, Vladyka thoughtfully raised his hands and slowly blessed both the land, receding into the distance, and the people, who continued to wave good-bye.

This Bishop was the thirty-nine-year-old Seraphim (Sobolev), who had been Consecrated to the Episcopacy only one month earlier, on October 1/14, the Feast of the Protection of the Mother of God, at the Cathedral of Simferopol. And now, on that wet and gloomy autumn day, he was beginning the sad life of a refugee.

It was not so much the coup d’etat, or the murders, or the famine, or the epidemics which raged in Russia—overwhelmed as it was by revolutionary madness—that compelled him to go into exile. He realized that the Russian Church was undergoing a period of persecutions, that many Bishops, Priests, and monks were perishing in prison, and that thousands of them would meet their deaths. He, himself, had heard the cries of monks from the Monastery of St. Mitrofan of Voronezh, as they were buried alive. News of the martyrdom of his fellow-monks was arriving from all over the country. His heart was full of ardent love for Christ, and he was prepared to suffer for the Faith. However, God’s meek and gentle chosen one did not want to decide for himself, but to obey the will of God.

No sooner had the bloody insurrection started in Russia, than he went to the righteous and discerning Elder, Hieromonk Aaron, who lived in the Zadonsk Monastery (near Voronezh), to ask him whether he should remain in Russia, where he was most likely to die a martyric death, or flee the country, in accordance with the words of the Gospel: “But when they persecute you in this city, flee ye into another” (St. Matthew 10:23). The blessed Elder Aaron answered enigmatically: “May God grant that you go to a lovely, small country.” “What do you mean?” asked Father Seraphim (he was still an Archimandrite at the time). “Life itself will show you,” the Elder answered with a smile.

When on October 29, 1920 (Old Style), the Red Army was only thirty kilometers away from Simferopol, Bishop Seraphim faced up to the question of his future fate. He went to the Bemov metochion of the Krim Monastery, where the wonderworking Kursk Icon of the Mother of God was located. In a fervent prayer, the young Bishop appealed to the Queen of Heaven for help, confessing his willingness to suffer for Christ and imploring her to show him the path which God had appointed for him. He then visited the local Archbishop, Dimitry of Tavria, and asked this diocesan Hierarch, whom God had anointed, to bless him to remain in Russia. “No,” replied Vladyka Dimitry, “I cannot do that. If something bad should happen to you, I would suffer for having given you my blessing.”

After a short conversation, they decided to cast lots. On one piece of paper they wrote, “leave,” and on the another, “do not leave.” The white-haired Archbishop went into his house-chapel, which was on the first floor of his Episcopal residence. After praying for a long time before the Icon of the Mother of God, he picked one of the pieces of paper. On the lot, which the young spiritual Father received as it were from the hand of God, was written: “leave.”

Thus was Archbishop Seraphim’s fate decided: God’s will was that the young Hierarch, who was endowed with Grace, talents, and spiritual wisdom, should serve the Holy Church and bear the cross of Episcopal service. At that time, according to his own words, that service was tantamount to martyrdom, though bloodless. But he followed the path shown to him by the Queen of Heaven.

* * *

Nikolai Borisovich Sobolev (Archbishop Seraphim’s name in the world) was born in Ryazan, in Western Russia, on December 1/14, 1881. Since early childhood, he bore the seal of God’s elect. Quiet, kind, tenderhearted, and sympathetic towards people, he was exceptionally serious for his age. He attended the seminary in Ryazan, and subsequently the St. Petersburg Theological Academy, from which he graduated in 1908. In his senior year at the Academy, at his own request, he was tonsured into monasticism with the name “Seraphim,” in honor of the long-revered and recently glorified ascetic struggler of Sarov [his Glorification took place in 1903—Trans.]. Shortly afterwards, he was Ordained Deacon (Hierodeacon) and Priest (Hieromonk).

After his graduation from the Academy, the young Hieromonk was appointed a teacher in the Pastoral School in Zhitomir, and subsequently Inspector of the Ecclesiastical School in Kaluga. In 1912, he became Inspector of the Kostroma Theological Seminary and, in 1913, Rector of the Voronezh Theological Seminary. His blessed personality, with its beneficial influence, left a deep impression on people’s souls.

For Russia, those years were hard and fateful. Seminarians and students were often the victims of vehement revolutionary propaganda and anarchist agitation. The erupting volcano of the revolution was not a chance phenomenon; for a century, dark, evil forces had been working subversively to demoralize Russian society, indoctrinating the people with anarchy, unrestrained freethinking, atheism, blasphemy, theomachy, and all sorts of pernicious teachings. These infernal forces made use of all of their treachery and cunning to destroy the Orthodox empire, which impeded the machinations of the “mystery of iniquity” (II Thessalonians 2:7). Unfortunately, the Russian intelligentsia, captivated by freethinking and sentimental fantasies, renounced the Orthodox Faith of their ancestors and thus contributed to the downfall of Holy Russia.

Spiritually enlightened and wise, Vladyka Seraphim was a stranger to these new trends; he was aware of the madness of the raging revolution and its disastrous developments, which altered the course of history in an apocalyptic way. He was reared on the spiritual milk of Orthodox sanctity, in which he grew up, and was steeped in the wisdom of the Holy Fathers and the fragrance of Orthodox asceticism. From his deeply pious and suffering mother, he had, from his childhood, adopted the devotional spirit of Holy Russia. Owing to her husband’s serious illness, his mother had to look after her children all by herself. Young Kolya [a diminutive form of “Nikolai”—Trans.] witnessed her ardent prayers before the holy Icons in the Icon comer of their home, where, with tears in her eyes, his mother begged for help in her sorry plight and the hardships of life. The devout young man also drew on the lives of the Saints, which he read over and over again with an insatiable love, rendering homage to their God-pleasing struggles. In pre-revolutionary Russia there were many living paragons of righteousness and of a saintly way of life, and Vladyka Seraphim came to know many of them personally. In his student days, he was acquainted with Archpriest John Sergiev, the renowned wonder-worker of Kronstadt, who was fond of him. During one of his visits to Kronstadt, he received a symbolic blessing, which filled him with the illuminating Grace of the Holy Spirit. Moreover, St. John prophetically blessed the future Hierarch—precisely at the High Place in the Altar of St. Andrew’s Cathedral. Later, as an inspector at the Ecclesiastical School in Kaluga, in the vicinity of the Optina Monastery, the young Hieromonk Seraphim frequently visited the famous Optina Elders, Joseph, Barsanuphius, and Anatoly (Potapov), confessed to them, and enriched his spiritual experience at the glowing hearth of their sanctity. Vladyka Seraphim was also acquainted with some of the well-known fools for Christ in Russia, and he used to tell us edifying stories about the extraordinary humility with which they invariably concealed their ascetical feats.

The secret life in Christ, which God’s chosen one kindled in his Christ-loving heart from his earliest years, filled his soul with the flame of Grace and its spiritual gifts. All of this did not go unnoticed by those around him. Even at the Theological Academy, the future First Hierarch of the Russian Orthodox Church Abroad, Metropolitan Anthony (Khrapovitsky), kept an eye on the spiritual development of the young theologian. By his authority and decisiveness, Hieromonk Seraphim twice broke up unruly meetings of his fellow-students, who were infected by liberal and revolutionary attitudes. In 1920, Metropolitan Anthony raised him to the rank of Bishop, and subsequently, in 1934, to the dignity of Archbishop. The Principal of the Pastoral School in Zhitomir, Archimandrite Gabriel, who later became a martyr, lovingly called the young Hieromonk “Abbochka” (from “Abba,” or spiritual guide), because of his spiritual maturity.

The waves of emigration took Bishop Seraphim first to Constantinople and then, for a few months, to the theological school on the island of Halke. In May of 1921, the Higher Church Administration appointed him Rector of the St. Nicholas Church, which was attached to the Russian Embassy in Sofia, and of the St. Alexander Nevsky Russian Monastery near Yambol. Three months later, he was appointed administrator of the Russian parishes in Bulgaria.

* * *

On May 6/19, the day on which the memory of St. Job the Much-Suffering is celebrated, Bishop Seraphim arrived in Bulgaria. This “lovely, small country,” about which the discerning Elder Aaron had prophesied, proved to be the destiny assigned to him by God, where he was to bear his Archpastoral labors and sorrows. There, he gained a profound mastery of the science of sciences, by living a life of piety and holiness, which bore rich fruit.

By nature, Bishop Seraphim had a gentle and meek character. He was distinguished for his deep humility and sincere love for his neighbor. In all of his words and actions, there shone forth a blessed simplicity and peace in Christ. His pure, dispassionate heart was insusceptible to any kind of agitation, which is ultimately the result of pride and selfishness. Not even the slightest hint of censure or malevolence did he utter with his refined lips. His prayers often worked miracles, and his words were prophetic and insightful. Love towards his enemies and pastoral self-sacrifice—these supreme manifestations of a man alive in Christ—were as natural to him as breathing.

Vladyka Seraphim’s spiritual teaching was full of patristic wisdom. He had, himself, acquired the ascetical experience of Orthodox spiritual warfare. The righteous Bishop rejected unhealthy manifestations in spiritual life and their replacement with all sorts of soul-endangering pseudo-spiritual experiences, as well as an unhealthy quest for alleged miracles, pseudo-visions, and pseudo-revelations. He emphasized that the most marvellous miracle of God was the restoration of the soul by Grace, the spiritual labor of making oneself a new man in Christ.

As a Divinely wise spiritual guide, he drew people’s attention towards the inner life, towards unseen warfare with thoughts suggested by the enemy of our salvation, the Evil One: “Do not ally your will with that of the demons!” was one of his basic pastoral admonitions. Vladyka Seraphim taught humility, simplicity, and obedience, sincere love for one’s neighbor, unceasing remembrance of God, and heartfelt prayer to Him. “In our brother we must see an Angel, and we must look upon his sin as an illness,” he often said repeatedly. Filled with the Grace of the Comforter, he possessed the extraordinary gift of comforting those who were in trouble. “Winter is severe, but Paradise is sweet,” he used to tell the despondent. “The end is near at hand; life passes quickly. On earth we are visitors—migrating birds.”

Archbishop Seraphim spent twenty-nine years of his life in Bulgaria and grew to love this “lovely, small country” as his second homeland. It was here that he wrote his theological works. It was here that he gave pastoral advice to his spiritual children, who were humbly to preserve and hand down sparks of his Patristic spirituality, so that the living links of Orthodox tradition might remain unbroken. At the end of his life, Archbishop Seraphim managed to fulfill a longstanding wish of his soul, oriented as he was to monasticism; i.e., to found a convent where he might bequeath his paternal testament. This was our convent.

In our age of apostasy, Archbishop Seraphim is a rare example of a saintly Hierarch endowed with Grace and a crystal-clear pastoral conscience. He considered spiritual life in Christ, the virtues, and devotion to be inseparable from professing the eternal Truth of the Orthodox Faith and from the duty to preserve it unaltered. For him, the profession and preservation of the Truth were part of his life in Christ, Who is Himself the Life and the Truth (St. John 14:6). And all of this he performed with steadfastness and firmness, yet meekly, without displaying the slightest passion. Showing us the way by his own example and precepts, Vladyka Seraphim taught that obedience is not an end in and of itself, but a sign of love for the Lord: love which proves itself in fulfilling Christ’s commandments and all that Christ’s Holy Church has decreed. Archbishop Seraphim’s vocal opposition to ecumenism and any distortion of the Divine dogmas of the Faith has served to guard Orthodoxy to this very day. And God glorified his fidelity, summoning his sanctified soul precisely on the Sunday of Holy Orthodoxy (February 13/26, 1950).

After his death, Archbishop Seraphim’s faithful spiritual children—among whom were the ever-memorable Archimandrite Panteleimon (Staritsky) (+1980) and Archimandrite Seraphim (Alexiev) (+1993) [both assistant professors in the theological faculty of the University of Sofia, and both dismissed from their posts for refusing to accept the New Calendar innovation, when it was introduced into the Orthodox Church of Bulgaria—Trans.]—fulfilled his paternal legacy, that is, not to have anything to do with the heresies of ecumenism and modernism, a legacy and testament which the Bulgarian Old Calendar Orthodox Church maintains today under the omophorion of Bishop Photii [also a former professor at the University of Sofia—Trans.].

In telling the story of Archbishop Seraphim’s life, we could not help remembering the words of the wonder-worker of Sarov, which he addressed to his spiritual children: “My joy, acquire the spirit of peace, and thousands around you will be saved!” Archbishop Seraphim was indeed a blessing of God for the land of Bulgaria. His sojourn in this country was a time of spiritual sowing, which bore its fruits in Christ. Having acquired Christ’s peace in his lifetime, he today leads thousands of human souls to salvation.

 

Original Bulgarian source: Πραβοεπαβεκ Kanendap 2000, pp. 51- 64.

English source: Orthodox Tradition, Vol. XIX (2002), Nos. 3-4, pp. 2-8.