Wednesday, July 1, 2026

The Miracle of Saint John of Shanghai Concerning the Frying Pan

Irina Gurova

 

 

I first learned of Saint John, the Wonderworker of Shanghai and San Francisco, from the book by Hieromonk Seraphim (Rose) and Abbot Herman (Podmoshensky), Blessed John the Wonderworker, published in Moscow in 1993. This was about a year after my baptism, and the book was the first in Russia about Saint John. It was impossible not to love him after the very first reading of the book… And then, over the course of 30 years, I reread it, either in its entirety or in separate fragments, many times, so that the condition of the book can no longer be called good, especially since it has a soft cover, and in those days the paper used was usually not of the best quality.

I remember my joy when a large full-length icon of Saint John appeared in the Church of Saint Nicholas in Pyzhi. From that time on, whenever I was there, I tried to place candles not only before Saint Nicholas the Wonderworker and the Tsar-Martyr Nicholas, but also before dear Vladyka John. However, I cannot recall praying to him about anything specific during the 25 years after becoming acquainted with him through the book. For the most part, briefly: “Holy Father John, pray to God for us!”

Only from 2019 did I begin often to turn to him in various sorrows and illnesses and to receive swift help from the Lord through the prayers of the Saint. That summer, with great delay, I read an announcement that a part of Saint John’s belt had been brought to the Church of the Great-Martyr Catherine on Vspolye, and that after the Liturgy on his feast day (July 2 N.S.) it would be taken back to San Francisco. At that period, by the mercy of God, I continued to travel to services at the Marfo-Mariinsky Convent, although for a year already an old illness had sharply worsened and new ones had appeared. In 2019, July 2 fell on a Tuesday. The Lord vouchsafed me on that day to be at the Liturgy and to partake of the Holy Mysteries of Christ at the convent. And from there one can walk to the American Metochion, which I did, in the hope of still finding the holy object there. Despite the multitude of those who wished to venerate it, I managed to venerate the belt of Vladyka John, and afterward all those present joyfully heard that it would not be taken away that day, but would be left at the metochion until August 13. And by the mercy of God, that summer I was able to come again to venerate the holy object, and I acquired oil blessed on the relics of the Saint in San Francisco. Then, too, I received manifest help from Vladyka John in an illness that had tormented me for more than two months, and in a difficult situation at work. And subsequently there were many instances of his grace-filled help.

However, now I would like to tell about one event on the eve of the feast of the Transfiguration of the Lord in that same year, 2019. Without doubt, our faith must not be based on miracles. Strictly speaking, they are not needed for it. The Lord can work them for the strengthening of faith, for the conversion of unbelievers, when He considers it necessary. We can read about this in many lives of the saints. But often a miracle is God’s answer to a person crying out for help in misfortune, illness, and grievous circumstances, and not simply to one who wishes to see some sign. I remember the words from Holy Scripture: “It is good to keep close the secret of a king, but it is glorious to reveal the works of God” (Tob. 12:7). But it is very difficult to speak about such “works” of the ineffable mercy of the Lord, manifested in multitude even upon me, sinful and unworthy, even about the smallest portion of them.

About this incident, when obviously and in the shortest time the “order of nature was violated,” I, a person with a natural-scientific education, had long wished to tell, but I did not dare, it did not work out, and so forth. And in August of last year, I promised Saint John to write it down and send it to Pravoslavie.Ru (of course, after yet another instance of his intercession before the Lord). And still, I could not begin. Even now I cannot manage to set it forth well, but even if it comes out “awkwardly,” it is necessary to fulfill the promise. Lord, bless!

On the evening of August 18, 2019, on the eve of the feast of the Transfiguration of the Lord, I returned from church rather late, and I needed to prepare something for supper for the household, fry fish for the next day, wash and prepare grapes and apples for blessing, and still manage to do some household tasks. And most importantly, to prepare for Holy Communion: the Transfiguration of the Lord is my favorite feast after the Bright Resurrection of Christ and His Nativity. Of course, I was hurrying: I wanted to do things faster, I was taking up several household tasks at once, although I know that this leads to nothing good. Thus, I turned on a burner of the electric stove to high power and put an empty frying pan on it so that it would heat up, but I was distracted by something else and completely forgot about it. A great deal of time passed, and in the process of cooking I needed to put a pot on that burner (it is the most conveniently located). Seeing that an empty frying pan was “simply standing” on it, I decided to move it farther away. Here a comment is unavoidable: this frying pan is made of stainless steel, with very thick sides and bottom (about 5 mm), still of Soviet manufacture. Such ones have not been produced for a long time. My mother gave it to me in the 1980s, and she may have bought it even earlier. But the fastening of the handle was not very strong, and by the time of the events being described it had long since fallen off. And so, in order to free the needed burner, I tightly grasped this empty, red-hot frying pan with both hands (all 10 fingers of my hands were involved in this), lifted it, and moved it to the far burner. I did not slide it, but lifted it and held it for some short time before setting it down. During those moments I felt rapidly increasing pain, but still I did not throw it or drop it, but lowered it onto the stove (it has a glass-ceramic surface).

 

 

After that everything was measured, it seems, in fractions of a second, according to my subjective sensation, of course: the increase of the sharpest pain, the realization of the situation, horror at the prospects, and an involuntary inward, silent cry to Saint John. Simultaneously with this, I rushed into the room, managed to seize the little bottle with oil blessed on his holy relics, unscrew the cap, and abundantly anoint, or rather even pour it over, the burned fingers.

Now again I will have to make a digression, necessary for understanding the situation. The matter is that I always, even from the most insignificant momentary touches to the surface of a hot kettle or pot, would get blisters on my skin, which then turned into little wounds that took a long time to heal. The same thing happened when drops of boiling water fell on me, even if some time had passed after boiling. And yet the temperature of the water and of the kettle (if all the water has not boiled away) is only 100 degrees Celsius [212°F], and sometimes even lower. I do not remember ever managing in such cases to get away with first-degree burns. This peculiarity of the skin, apparently, was inherited from my mother. My husband used to say ironically: “You get calluses from a bath broom.” And in fact such things did happen…

But here there was a red-hot empty steel frying pan. Probably one could look for data in order somehow to estimate and assess the temperature of the metal, but I do not see the need for this. That it was significantly, many times, higher than 100 degrees is obvious. What thoughts flashed through my mind in those moments? What was I hoping for when, in a silent cry, I turned to Saint John: “Help!”? It is difficult to answer these questions. Probably that, perhaps, through the prayers of the Saint at least a little “living place” would remain on my hands. And all this was taking place in so brief a time that any reasoning and analysis of the situation in the usual sense were simply impossible.

Returning to the kitchen, I sat down on a stool and tried somehow to pray… The strongest pain gradually began to weaken, starting with the main, “working” fingers: the thumbs and index fingers. The more “delicate” ones—the ring fingers and little fingers—hurt longer. But they too began to hurt less when the “working” fingers had stopped hurting altogether. It is very difficult to describe this, especially almost 7 years later. But I can testify reliably: after 30 minutes (perhaps even a little less), not a trace of the pain remained! And what is especially astonishing—there were no visible signs of a burn on my hands: no wounds, no blisters, not even a slight reddening of the skin. The fingers did not hurt and looked as usual.

Not only now, but even then, I would not have been able to describe what I felt. It seems impossible to do this with the words of our native, mighty, and rich, yet still earthly, language. To put it very crudely, together with the feeling of immeasurable gratitude to God and to Saint John, I felt fear that just now, directly upon myself, I had visibly observed and felt how the “order of nature is violated.”

That evening I managed to do everything that was required and that I had planned…

Since then, there have also been other instances of the wondrous help of dear Saint John. But now I wanted to tell precisely about this episode with the red-hot frying pan, and I fear that it turned out badly. With the passage of time, the awareness grows stronger that such a miracle, even one in an entire lifetime, ought to lead to a radical change, to the correction of one’s life, in essence—even to holiness. It ought to, but—alas… And this is frightening.

O God, be merciful to me, a sinner!

Holy Hierarch Father John, pray to God for us!

Irina Gurova

July 2, 2026

 

Russian source: https://pravoslavie.ru/178692.html

An Example of Humility: The Matthewite Bishop Spyridon of Trimythus (1888 – 1963)


 

In His loving providence, God often permits many trials and temptations to come upon those that love Him. St. Isaac of Syria writes: "Affliction willingly borne brings to light the proof of love."

This "proof of love" is twofold. It is a proof of God's love for us, for "the Lord disciplines him whom He loves and chastises every son whom He receives" (Heb. 12:6). Likewise, tribulations test our love for God. "That is why the saints were proved by tribulations for Christ's love, and not by ease," says St. Isaac. This is how Job triumphed. This is how the martyrs prevailed over their tormentors. This is how the confessors of true piety and Orthodoxy won their crowns and gained eternal glory.

In this life, there can be no other way for those who love God. St. Paul is very emphatic about this: "If ye be without chastisement… then ye are illegitimate offspring, and not sons" (Heb. 12:8). Even in our own perverse and unbelieving generation, God has given us splendid examples of individuals who have suffered afflictions and calumny for the sake of truth and righteousness. In the Soviet Union, how many millions were sent to the death camps, cynically accused of engaging in "anti-Soviet propaganda" — that is, preaching a sermon, or chanting a church hymn? St. Nectarios of Aegina too, is an example of a remarkable and holy hierarch, who even in his old age became the victim of the very basest sort of slander.

Bishop Spyridon of Trimythus, also, is such an example. He was born in 1883 in Cydonia of Aetoloacarnania. His name in the world was George Pasios, and his parents, Spyridon and Maria, saw to it that their gifted son was reared "in the nurture and admonition of the Lord." In 1907, at the age of nineteen, George departed for the Holy Mountain. After a short time, he joined the brotherhood of the Monastery of Xenophon. With the passage of the canonical trial period of three years, he received the Great and Angelic Schema and was re-named Gideon monk.

Very quickly, the fathers of the monastery came to esteem the young Fr. Gideon, who impressed all with his modesty, obedience, humility and self-denial. In time, he was ordained to the priesthood, and then, after fourteen years in the community, upon the demise of the abbot, Fr. Gideon was chosen by the brotherhood to be the new superior. Thus, at the age of thirty-three, in the year 1921, Fr. Gideon took upon himself the yoke of spiritual fatherhood.

He did not remain abbot for long, however. In 1924, the Ecumenical Patriarchate sought to coerce the Athonite community into changing to the new calendar. Seeing that the secular authorities were bent on forcing the monasteries to commemorate the innovating Ecumenical Patriarchate, Fr. Gideon submitted his resignation as abbot. He withdrew to the Skete of Kafsokalyvia, where he remained for three years. Then, seeking greater solitude for silence and prayer, he went to the wilderness of St. Basil and the hermitage of St. Peter of Athos, where he remained for another seven years.

By this time, the persecution against the old calendarists had reached fever pitch in Greece. Unleashed by the new calendar church authorities, the police openly harassed, jailed and physically beat both clergy and laypeople. There were even incidents where Orthodox Christians, including a young mother, were clubbed to death in "Christian" Greece. Their crime? Attending a church service held according to the traditional ecclesiastical calendar.

At the invitation of the priest-monk Matthew (later to become Archbishop of the "Matthewite" old calendarists), Fr. Gideon came to Athens to help strengthen and encourage the Christians. This was in 1934. It was during this period also that the old calendarists began organizing their monastic communities. The convent at Keratea was established and eventually came to have some 500 nuns. At about two hours walking distance from the convent, in Kuvara of Attica, the men's monastery of the Holy Transfiguration was founded and, at its peak, had some ninety to one hundred fathers in its brotherhood. It was in this monastery, on May 31, 1941, that Fr. Gideon was elected to the abbacy.

But here, too, his tenure as abbot lasted only a short three years.

What happened?

One day, in the spring of 1944, a group of monastics appeared at Archbishop Matthew's residence at the convent. The head of the group, Fr. Victor Matthew, one of the senior fathers of the monastery, requested an audience with the Archbishop concerning a "serious matter."

Archbishop Matthew welcomed the fathers into his quarters and asked them the purpose of their visit.

"Your Eminence, we wish to speak to you about Fr. Gideon," replied Fr. Victor.

"It's a very serious matter, Your Eminence. All of us here are ready to testify, in writing if necessary, that Fr. Gideon is immoral. He has an unbecoming and perverted fondness for young men."

Archbishop Matthew was thunderstruck. He had always revered Fr. Gideon greatly, and knew him for his strictness in fasting, his vigils in prayer, and his spiritual diligence. The charges were incredible. Indeed, they were preposterous.

"No, Your Eminence, everything we are saying is true, and we are willing to swear on it and put it in writing."

The Archbishop found himself in an impasse. On the one hand, he knew and loved Fr. Gideon and respected him for the strictness of his life and his steadfastness in matters regarding the Faith. On the other hand, the witnesses were many. Furthermore, they were senior members — the pillars, so to speak, of the monastery. They had neither run away from the monastery, nor stolen anything, nor done anything dishonorable. They were evidently in their right minds and, at least from a canonical point of view, had to be esteemed as trustworthy and reliable. In fact, the head of the delegation — Fr. Victor Matthew — was the one who later was to print the monumental series of the Lives of the Saints (The Great Synaxaristes) in fourteen volumes.

Archbishop Matthew now found himself in a very difficult position. After the others left, he summoned Fr. Gideon to question him concerning these grave charges.

"What do you have to say to these accusations, Fr. Gideon?" asked the Archbishop.

"Holy master, the only thing I can say is that I have many sins; but I am not guilty of these particular sins of which I am accused."

"But the witnesses are many, and they are all responsible members of your monastery."

"What more can I say, holy master?"

Archbishop Matthew was left with no other course of action: Fr. Gideon was defrocked and sent into exile away from the monastery.

Unperturbed, and at peace with himself, Fr. Gideon — now a simple monk — packed up his shoulder bag and headed for the mountains. He found himself a quiet spot and began to build a small hut. To this structure, he added a little chapel where he could chant his daily office in peace and quiet.

From time to time, shepherds passed through the area grazing their flocks. They noticed the little hut and often saw the black-robed figure tending a small garden of herbs, vegetables and greens. Moved by curiosity, they came to investigate. Fr. Gideon greeted them in a kindly manner and spoke with them briefly. A little later, when their flocks were again grazing in the area, the shepherds went out of their way to visit the monk. Fr. Gideon spoke to them from the parables of our Lord, from the lives of the Saints. He spoke to them of the things they understood -- of flocks, of good pastures, of wolves that seek to devour the sheep, of the Good Shepherd. He told them of the rocky earth, of thorns and thistles that choke out the grains of wheat, and he spoke also to them about the good earth. They were simple men of the mountains, and so they understood these simple things which he told them. They themselves were men of the earth, the good earth, and so Fr. Gideon's words began to take root.

On returning home, the shepherds told their wives of the kindly little father they had met in the mountains. They related how the father spoke to them about how they should be pious, and kind, and fair in all their dealings, and about how they should love God and man, and be faithful to the Orthodox Faith.

Naturally, the women felt they had to check out everything that their husbands had told them.

Hence, they too began hiking up into the mountains to visit Fr. Gideon. Of course, their philótimo* precluded them from going empty-handed. So, loaded down with bags of food and bottles of olive-oil ("for the icon-lamps, little Father"), these sturdy little women trekked up to Fr. Gideon's hermitage.

As he spoke with the men, so did Fr. Gideon speak with the women also. He told them many parables and accounts from the Lives of the Saints. He told them about prayer, about fasting; he admonished them how to struggle in the life of piety, and also how to cope with their husbands.

As the numbers of Fr. Gideon's new spiritual children continued to increase, many of them began to wonder why they could not have a parish nearby which followed the Church's traditional calendar and usages.

"Fr. Gideon, you have explained many things to us about the spiritual life, and about Orthodoxy, and about the church calendar," said his faithful disciples. Then came the big question: "Why don't you become our priest?"

Fr. Gideon cleared his throat and looked here and there desperately. "Well… the matter is difficult," he hedged.

His new flock — most of them former new calendarists — were not put off. It was obvious, they said among themselves, that Fr. Gideon was being evasive only because of his humility. They would write a petition directly to Archbishop Matthew, requesting that the good Fr. Gideon be ordained to the priesthood for them.

On receiving their petition, Archbishop Matthew was astonished, for he understood how great a number had returned to traditional Orthodoxy thanks to Fr. Gideon's teaching and example.

The report of these doings eventually reached the men's monastery of the Holy

Transfiguration also. Pricked by his conscience, Fr. Victor Matthew — the leader of the group who had originally accused Fr. Gideon — made his way to the Archbishop's office once again.

"Your Eminence, I must speak with you."

"What do you have to say, Fr. Victor?"

"I have a confession to make to you. All those charges that we brought against Fr. Gideon some four years ago…"

"Yes, what about those charges?"

"They were false — all of them."

"False?" exclaimed the Archbishop. "In God's name, what prompted you to do such a thing?"

"He was too strict! — what with his unrelenting fasts and his incessant work hours — he even had us working in the olive groves during the Great Fast while we had to keep the fast of the Ninth Hour! The fathers said that if we didn't get rid of him, he would kill us all for sure!"

According to the holy canons, if Fr. Victor and the other accusers had been priests or deacons, then they would have been subject to defrockment for slandering another.

However, Fr. Gideon agreed to come back to the monastery only if his accusers were not punished.

He was re-instated to the priesthood, and on September 1, 1948, Matthew ordained him to the episcopate and gave him the name Spyridon. His diocese was Trimythus of Cyprus, and thus he became "Spyridon of Trimythus."

Even though his stay in Cyprus lasted only two years, the new Bishop Spyridon ordained many clergy, established monasteries, convents, and parishes, and, in general, completely organized the church life of the traditional Orthodox Christians.

The British government authorities in Cyprus, however, felt that he was too active and too popular. Therefore, at the urging of the new calendarist hierarchy, the British exiled him back to Greece.

However, in Greece also, the traditional Orthodox Christians were weathering terrible new persecutions from another Spyridon — the new calendarist Archbishop of Athens. Nonethe1ess, Bishop Spyridon of Trimythus remained active for another three years, until the repose of Archbishop Matthew in 1953.

Immediately after Archbishop Matthew's funeral, Bishop Spyridon disappeared. He simply vanished into thin air without a trace. For ten years no one had any idea what happened to him.

In fact, Bishop Spyridon had gone into seclusion. Just below the convent in Keratea, there is a village by the sea-side. An old-calendar family living in the village of Keratea had agreed to receive the bishop into their home secretly. There, in the basement of this home, Bishop Spyridon established a secret hermitage, and for some ten years no one knew of his whereabouts.

About one year before his repose, he came down with cancer. Bed-ridden for most of this time, he patiently endured the terrible agony of his malady without once complaining. Together with the righteous Job, he cried out, "The Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away. As it seemed good to the Lord, so hath it come to pass. Blessed be the name of the Lord."

He was determined, however, to make one last pilgrimage. Many decades before, he had been tonsured rassophor at the Skete of St. Anne on the Holy Mountain. Now his last wish was to visit the Skete church — the kyriakon — so that he could venerate the icon of St. Anne there in the very church where he had made his renunciation of the world.

He never got there.

He got only as far as Daphne, the "second capital" of the Holy Mountain. As he was waiting to transfer to another boat which would take him down the coast of the Athonite peninsula, someone recognized him. Immediately, this individual rushed to the local police station and reported that an old calendarist bishop was trying to sneak into the Holy Mountain. Alarmed, the gendarmes ran down to the harbor and arrested Bishop Spyridon.

"You must leave immediately. The Holy Mountain is under the jurisdiction of the Ecumenical Patriarchate, and you have no right to be here."

"My children, I am close to death. I have no purpose for coming here except to kiss the icon of St. Anne in the Skete church where I was first tonsured. If you do not believe me, come with me. You may even hold me by the arms if you wish. My only wish is to venerate the Saint's icon and to return to my hermitage to die."

"Absolutely not! You are going no further. You must leave immediately under guard."

Broken-hearted and dejected, Bishop Spyridon, now accompanied by a gendarme, returned to the mainland and began to make his way back to Keratea.

He had to pass through Thessalonica. When he arrived at that city, he was again recognized… The report spread like wildfire: "Spyridon of the Matthewites is here in the city!" Immediately, great numbers of the faithful began to gather, including those of the other Old Calendarist jurisdiction. Everyone wanted to receive his blessing, to kiss his panagia, to venerate the hem of his rassa, to kiss his hand, to touch him.

Finally, with great difficulty he made it back to his little hermitage. There, after a few weeks, he peacefully reposed in the Lord on February 18, 1963.

Of course, even if Bishop Spyridon's enemies had not recanted, it would have made no difference, for God knew the innocence and sincerity of his soul. Even if they had continued to denounce him — as the enemies of St. Symeon the New Theologian continued to denounce him until his death — Bishop Spyridon would have suffered no harm from them.

Few people know that St. Symeon the Theologian — who is one of the Church's greatest monastic fathers — was on one occasion violently attacked by thirty of his monks when he was abbot of the Monastery of St. Mamas in Constantinople. If they had been able, those monks would have killed him — such was their malice against him. The reason? The saint had repeatedly rebuked them for their wrongdoing. As it says in Proverbs:

Rebuke a wise man,

and he will love thee.

Rebuke a fool,

and he will hate thee.

(Cf. Proverbs 9:8)

This was not the only grief which St. Symeon suffered during his life. Several bishops of the Ecumenical throne nurtured a deep malice against him. Thanks to their jealousy and hostility — which was cloaked in the guise of politeness — St. Symeon spent the last thirteen years of his life in exile.

The saint accepted this injustice because, although the bishops of his day were spiritually remiss and led astray by their passions, they were, nonetheless, Orthodox. Had his bishops been faulty in their faith, however, the saint would have been under no obligation to obey them. St. Athanasius the Great, St. Maximus the Confessor and St. Gregory Palamas are examples of Church fathers who were slanderously accused of many misdeeds and who fought back -- for in their case, it was not simply a matter of vindicating themselves, but of standing up for the Orthodox Faith.

Yet, here is the irony: despite the fact that St. Symeon — like St. Nectarius and Bishop Spyridon — suffered untold slanders and calumnies, what Orthodox Christian today does not deeply honor him? And who remembers the names of his implacable enemies? Indeed, who is not deeply moved at reading his spirit-soaring poetry? And who can restrain his tears when reading his compunctionate prayer in preparation for Holy Communion?

Truly, as David the Psalmist says, "Many are the tribulations of the righteous, and the Lord shall deliver them out of them all."

It is precisely because of their hope in the Lord that they who love God can accept their tribulations with joy. And this too — despite all the grief that he suffered and his banishment— is why St. Symeon, like all those who have suffered because of the malice of others, could end his famous poem with the words:

Wherefore, with a mind most thankful,

And a heart most thankful also,

Thankful also in the members

Of my soul and of my body,

I adore and magnify Thee,

As One verily most blessed,

Now and ever, to all ages.

 

Source: Holy Transfiguration Monastery, Brookline, MA.

Some Aspects of Orthodox Spirituality

Published by Holy Trinity Monastery, Printshop of St Job of Pochaev, Jordanville, NY, 1958.

 

 

The word Orthodoxy comes from two Greek words meaning right glory. So Orthodoxy means right worship, and that implies right belief and right thinking. We are reminded of what our Lord said to the Samaritan woman: “God is spirit, and His worshippers must worship Him in spirit and in truth” (John 4:24).

People sometimes say, “It doesn’t matter what you believe as long as you live a good life”. That is a very unthinking remark. In fact, it isn’t true. The truth is that it is of vital importance what we believe, because:

1) “without faith it is impossible to please God,” still less to be saved (Heb. 11:6);

2) “the devils also believe, and tremble,” i. e. they are terrified, having neither hope nor love, but believing that what we love and hope for will come true (Jas. 2:19);

3) if we do not believe in God, we cannot receive His life and power to worship, love and glorify Him. Then, deprived of grace, we fall into idolatry and immorality (Rom. 1:29-32, Wisdom, chs. 13 and 14);

4) our character and conduct depend on what we believe. Character is what we are. Conduct is what we do. What we are and what we do makes up the whole of our life. So our whole life depends on what we believe (Gal. 3:11).

An illustration: a mother tells her child that fire hurts, but the child does not believe it. The mother goes away. Left to itself, the child crawls to the fire and puts its hand in. It screams, cries and changes its faith, and consequently changes its conduct.

The Orthodox Church is very rich in dogma, doctrine, dogmatic belief. Where does this revealed truth come from? Orthodox dogma comes from Holy Tradition and Holy Scripture, and is to be found largely in the Church Service books. I suppose the Orthodox Service books are the richest in the world, and these services are based primarily on the twin sources I have just mentioned. In a sense there is only one source, for Holy Scripture is really part of Holy Tradition. It is a form of written tradition. In the life of the Church and the life of the individual, tradition comes first. From Adam for many centuries there were no books. Religion was dependent on the traditions handed down from father to son. Even in N. T. times, our Lord wrote nothing. How did the Apostles and early Christians get their faith and knowledge? By tradition handed on by the word of mouth. It was not until 397 A. D. that the Canon of the N. T. was fixed as we have it today. And in the life of the individual, each of us gets his first knowledge of life and religion normally from his parents. Long before we can read we learn from their lives and lips. So the Apostle Paul says: “Hold the traditions which you have been taught by word or letter” (2 Thess. 2:15; 1 Cor. 11:2)

Public worship holds a very large place in Orthodox life. The centre of Orthodox worship is the Holy Liturgy or Holy Eucharist or Holy Sacrifice or Lord’s Supper, the various names indicating different aspects of the service. Here we are reminded of the nature of the Gospel, of the heart of redemption. For in the Liturgy the whole of Christ’s life and Passion is commemorated and re-enacted by word, symbol and action from His humble birth in the stable in Bethlehem to His glorious Resurrection and Ascension and the sitting at the right hand of the Father. In addition to all the other aspects of the service, the Liturgy is a deep sermon in itself. That is why in the Orthodox Church it is not such a tragedy as it is with other Christians if the priest is a poor preacher or for some reason cannot preach, for the service in itself is a most profound and vivid sermon.

At a meeting of Presbyterian ministers, while discussing the Virgin Birth of Christ one minister said, “There are many in this Presbytery who do not believe in that particular fable. I myself am one who does not accept it”.

One of them asked, “Then how did you become a Presbyterian minister?”

He replied, “I did accept it when I was much younger. But I have since become educated and no longer hold my previous belief”.

One asked, “Do you mind telling us just why you do not believe in the virgin birth?”

He said, “I don’t believe in that doctrine because it is only found on two pages of the N. T. Matthew and Luke are the only ones who ever mention it. In all the writings of Paul he never introduced the question of the virgin birth. Peter never mentions it in his writings, and Jesus was utterly ignorant of any such suggestion. You never find it in a single sentence or statement uttered by Jesus Himself”.

“Then tell us,” one minister asked, “what do you teach and preach?”

“The Sermon on the Mount”, was the instant reply. “That is enough Gospel for anyone”.

“Not for me,” answered the other minister, “because I don’t believe in the Sermon on the Mount!”

If a bomb had been dropped, it could not have created more excitement. Somewhat bewildered, the first minister asked, “What do you mean when you say that you don’t believe in the Sermon on the Mount?”

The other replied, “I don’t believe that Jesus ever uttered the words that you call the sermon on the Mount”.

Greatly astonished, he said, “Why ever not?”

“Because it only occurs on two pages of the N. T. Matthew and Luke are the only men who ever mention it. Paul never talked of the Sermon on the Mount. Peter says nothing about it. James, John and Jude are equally ignorant of it. Now following your line of reason, if Matthew and Luke lied about the virgin birth, why should I believe them concerning the Sermon on the Mount?”

Of course, it is not true that St. Paul knew nothing of the Virgin Birth, for he never once calls Jesus “Son of Man” but constantly calls Him the Son of God. And where did Matthew and Luke get the information they give us in the Gospels if not from Jesus and Mary? That, however, is not my subject for the moment. The point I want to make is this. There are many people in the world today who think that the Sermon on the Mount is the essence and heart of the Gospel. “Give us more of the Sermon on the Mount and less theology,” they say. Even such a great man as Mahatma Ghandi said: “The message of Jesus is contained in the Sermon on the Mount, unadulterated and taken as a whole”. It is one of the popular heresies and it needs to be answered.

The Sermon on the Mount is not the Gospel that the early Church taught. When St. Paul wanted to recall the Corinthians to the foundations of Christianity, he did not say: “Blessed are the peacemakers. Do not resist an evil person. Love your enemies. Let tomorrow take care of itself. Do to others what you would like them to do to you. Be perfect”. These are magnificent principles. They could be called good advice. They could not possibly be called good news. No, St. Paul wrote something quite different. Here are his words: “I delivered to you among the fundamentals what I also received, that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, that He was buried, that He was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures, that He appeared to Cephas, then to the twelve, then to more than 500 brothers at once, then to James, then to all the Apostles. Last of all He appeared to me” (1 Cor. 15:1-9).

And here is what St. Peter preached: “The God of our fathers raised Jesus Whom you killed by hanging Him on a tree. It is this Jesus Whom God has exalted at His right hand to be our Leader and Saviour, to give repentance to Israel and forgiveness of sins. And we are witnesses of these things, and so is the Holy Spirit Whom God has given to those who obey Him” (Acts 5:30-32).

In any case the original Gospel was not a sermon, and not just the Beatitudes. It was thrilling news, glad tidings of great joy for all the peoples of the world. It was Jesus Himself, the divine Saviour, His Life, His death, His Cross, His empty Tomb, His Kingdom, His love and forgiveness, His power and His glory. It is this great truth that our salvation depends on the act of God, on what God in His great love has done for us, that Orthodox Spirituality insists upon and emphasizes in a remarkable way. In order to fix in the minds and hearts of the faithful what God has done for us, the Orthodox Church, besides the Creed, has twelve great annual Feasts commemorating events in the drama of Redemption.

A recent writer has said that the Orthodox Church, through concentrating on the Creeds and neglecting the Beatitudes, has become fossilized. Actually the Orthodox Church only uses one Creed in public worship, but almost daily throughout the year in all Russian Churches the Beatitudes are sung in full at the Divine Liturgy.

I said that there are 12 Great Feasts. You may be surprised to learn that Easter is not one of the 12. So is the Resurrection in the mind of the Church that it is in a class by itself and is called “the Feast of Feasts and the Triumph of Triumphs”. Easter is always celebrated at midnight and the service usually takes till about dawn. To attend an Orthodox Easter Service is an unforgettable experience. Many people, including R. C. priests and monks, have told me that they have never seen any service to compare with it. The singing, especially as performed in the Russian Church, is uplifting in the extreme. One detail: at certain points in the service the priest greets the people in a loud voice with the words, “Christ is Risen,” and the congregation responds, “He is risen indeed!” This is also how people greet one another at Easter time. Instead of saying Good Day or Namaskaram, or Hullo, one says “Christ is Risen” and the response is “He is Risen Indeed.” Besides the annual Easter service, every Sunday is also a Day of Resurrection, and there are 8 services with 8 different tunes used in rotation throughout the year. On Sundays and at Easter there is a rule that prostrations to the ground are not to be made, as the joy of the Resurrection overwhelms even the sense of penitence. Also at Easter the psalms are not used for a whole week, and there is no fasting. There is a custom at Easter to colour eggs red and have them blessed in Church, and then to give them away as Easter gifts. This dates from the early days of Christianity. After Christ’s Resurrection, St. Mary Magdalene went to Rome and visited the Emperor Tiberias. She presented him with a red egg, saying: Christ is Risen. She then preached a burning sermon to the pagan Emperor and explained the meaning of her gift, the red colour recalling the blood of redemption, the egg a symbol of birth, death and resurrection. After that it became a general custom to give coloured eggs at Easter.

To name some of the 12 feasts: On January the 6 th the Baptism of Christ by John the Baptist (Theophany or Epiphany) is celebrated. On February the 2nd is the Meeting or Presentation of Christ in the Temple. On August the 6th is the Transfiguration. On March the 25th is the Feast of the Annunciation when the Angel Gabriel appeared to the Virgin Mary and which commemorates the Incarnation. Nine months later is the Nativity or Birthday of Our Saviour (Christmas). Moveable feasts are Palm Sunday commemorating Christ’s triumphal entry into Jerusalem; Ascension, 40 days after Easter; and 10 days later Pentecost (Trinity).

No days are blank in the Orthodox calendar. Every day some saints are remembered. Saints are of various classes. The Greek word Martyr means a witness. The martyrs bore witness to Christ with their blood. It is possible to be a martyr in various ways. Would you like to be a martyr? “Feel the tortures of conscience,” says St. Athanasius, “die to sin, amputate sinful desires, and you will be a martyr in will. The martyrs struggled with the torturers, kings and princes. You have a torturer, the devil; he is the king of sin. There are also prince-persecutors, namely demons. If you refrain from these passions and from sinful desires, it will mean that you have trampled on the idols and become a martyr”. So much for St. Athanasius.

Every Saint glorifies Christ, so in all things God is glorified. St. Tikhon of Zadonsk was a Russian bishop (1724-83). Here is a sample of how he spoke to the people of his time: “God will not ask whether you taught your children French, German or Italian, or of politics of society life — but you will not escape the divine reprobation for not having instilled goodness into them. I speak plainly, but I tell the truth: if your children are bad, your grandchildren will be worse . . . and so evil will increase. And the root of all this is our thoroughly bad education”.

Typical of Orthodoxy is the group of saints called Fools for Christ’s Sake. These were men and women who, for the love of God and in response to a special call, pretended to be mad or mentally abnormal. I think the earliest was a nun of Tabenna in the Egyptian desert, St Isadora (380). She was never known to eat proper food. She lived on the scraps the nuns left. It was a large community and she was mostly treated with disdain and abhorrence. But such was her humility that she never refused to serve and obey everyone in the lowliest tasks.

Another fool was St. Basil of Moscow who died in 1552, aged 88. One of the most magnificent churches in the world was built in his honour and can be seen in Moscow today. Once the Russian Emperor was building a new palace on Sparrow Mountains. One day he went to church, but instead of praying he was thinking about beautifying the new palace. St. Basil went to the same church and stood in the corner unnoticed. But he saw what the Emperor was doing with his mind. After the Liturgy the Emperor went home and Basil followed him. The Emperor asked him, “Where have you been?” “There, where you were, at the Holy Liturgy”. “How was that? I didn’t see you”. “But I saw you and I saw where you really were”. “I was nowhere else, only in church,” said the Emperor. “Your words are not true, O Emperor, for I saw you in spirit on Sparrow Mountains building your palace”. Deeply moved, the Emperor said: “It is true, that is just what happened to me”. That is typical of the spiritual insight to which the saints attained.

The prophets and saints of the Old Testament form another class commemorated in the calendar. Some, like John the Baptist and Elijah, have feast days of considerable importance. Another class is what is called the Unmercenaries. These are doctors or physicians who, at a call from God, gave up using all material means and dispensed spiritual healing in the name of Christ to all who came to them free of charge.

Here it may be good to mention that monasticism has always been highly regarded in the Orthodox Church. It is based on Christ’s words: “He who is able to receive it, let him receive it” (Mat. 19:10-12). And “sell what you have and give to the poor, and come and follow Me” (Mat. 19-21). And the promises to those who renounce everything (Mat. 19:29). Monks are pledged to battle with evil. Monasticism is not an escape from service. As Evagrius says: “Better is a layman who serves his neighbour than a monk who has no compassion for his brother”. The desert has given us great treasures which are still primary sources of spirituality: “The Life of St. Antony” by St. Athanasius the Great. “The Lausiac History” by Palladius, “The Spiritual Meadow” by St. John Moschus, “The Ladder of Paradise” by St. John Climacus; the Writings of St. Basil the Great, St. John Chrysostom, St. Gregory the Theologian, St. Macarius, St. Isaac the Syrian, St. Ephraim, St. Cassian; also the Philokalia and the Patrologies which are anecdotes of the Desert Fathers.

A great virtue in Orthodox Spirituality is dispassion (Gk. apatheia), which is often misunderstood and mistranslated as “apathy”, “indifference”, or “insensibility” in a stoic sense. But true dispassion is freedom from passion through being filled with the spirit of God as a fruit of divine love. It is a state of soul in which a burning love for God and man leaves no room for selfish and human passions. How far it is from the cold stoic conception we can see from the fact that St. Diadochus can speak of “the fire of dispassion”. Here is an illustration from a patrology. Two elders lived together in the Egyptian Desert, and there had never been a quarrel between them. One said: “Let us have a quarrel like other people”. The other said: “I do not know how quarrels take place”. The first said: “Look, I put a brick between us and say: ‘That is mine’. And you say: ‘No, it is mine’. And that will be the beginning”. And they did so. One of them said: “That is mine”. And the other said: “No, it is mine”. And the first said: “Yes, yes, it is yours. Take it and go”. And they gave it up as they were quite unable to start a quarrel between them.

The thought of deification may seem strange, yet that is a word constantly met in Orthodox works. It is based on Holy Scripture, of course. St. Peter tells us that God has given us His “great and precious promises that through them we may be partakers of the divine nature” (2 Peter 1:4). And St. Athanasius explains that it is through the Incarnation that “the flesh has been deified”. This deification is worked out, according to St. Maximus the Confessor, by the identification of our human will with divine will. That prevents all pantheism. It is union with the divine life and activity, not with the divine being and essence. Iron placed in a fire becomes red hot and fiery, but it remains iron.

Everyone of you who are listening to me is hungry for life and happiness. That is just what Jesus Christ came to give. “I have come,” He said, “that you may have life and may have it abundantly”. There is nothing wrong in being hungry for life and happiness, because that is the way we are made. Yet it is one of life’s paradoxes that the pursuit of happiness, like the pursuit of pleasure, defeats its own purpose. We find happiness only when we do not directly seek it. So God gave us the spiritual law: “Seek first the Kingdom of God” (Lk. 12:31). Then He promises that all our needs will be supplied. So Orthodox Christians have seasons of special seeking by penitence, prayer and abstinence that they may partake more fully of that life and happiness which constitutes the Kingdom of God. People think that wealth and honours mean happiness. But God tells us that a man’s life and happiness does not consist in the abundance of his possessions (Lk. 12:15). In the Orthodox view, so great is the human heart that nothing less than God can satisfy it. And the truth is that God is man’s happiness. So all men are really seeking God. But it is one thing to try to get happiness for yourself, and quite another to try to establish God’s Kingdom of divine power and happiness in the hearts of all men everywhere.

When Our Lord began His public life, the gist of His message was: “The Kingdom of God is at hand. Repent and believe in the Gospel” (Mark 1:15). To repent means, according to the Greek, to change our mind, our outlook, and so consequently our life. Instead of thinking thoughts of fear, revenge, anxiety, depression, acquisitiveness and sickness, it means to live and think in terms of the heavenly kingdom which is all around us, and in which we live and move and have our being. Man is a spirit, housed in a body. So he lives at once in Time and Eternity. Eternal life begins here and now. Our business is to live in Time and Eternity at once. According to Orthodoxy the temple or church is heaven on earth. The ikons or pictures remind us of things not of this world. “Our life, our home is in Heaven” (Philip 3:20). We are surrounded by Saints and Angels and all the heavenly inhabitants. A prayer that occurs daily in Lent reads: “Standing in the temple of Thy glory, we think that we are standing in Heaven”. “The Kingdom of Heaven is within you” (Lk. 17:21), so unless you take Heaven with you in your heart, you will never go there.

Man is a spirit. Every spirit has wings. To develop and use our wings of faith and prayer more than our legs at certain fixed periods is not something negative; it is a very positive and definite step towards integration and fuller living. Repentance means to live as if we were primarily spirits, instead of conducting our life as if we were 90 percent flesh which is the way most people live. The first Christians lived in the fervent expectation of the Second Coming of Christ. An extract from a letter of St. Tikhon will give you a typical Russian view of the implications of Christ’s Coming and the need for repentance, and shows how Orthodoxy today maintains the attitude of the early Church. Here is the letter: “Christ’s Judgment draws near. Like a thief in the night this day will come unexpectedly, and with whatever it surprises us, with that each will appear at this dreadful trial. One man will be surprised in fornication, and he will appear with it. Another will be surprised in murder, and he will appear with it. Another in evil speaking or calumny or lying, plotting or hypocrisy, or insulting his neighbour; and each will stand trial with these sins. Some will be surprised during feasts and banquets or at card playing, or at the theatre; and they will stand there for trial. Others will be surprised in quarrels and disputes and will thus appear at judgment. Still others will be surprised in bribery and corruption or during dancing and revelling and other such licentious amusements and excesses, and will face judgment under these circumstances. I implore you, beloved, in the name of Christ, to spare your souls and repent, that you may not be lost for all eternity. Listen to Christ Himself Who hungers and thirsts for our salvation”.

God made the world of Time as a school for Eternity. During this brief spell on earth, we are meant to be schooling ourselves to live with God our Father in perfect joy for ever. But many people find this world so beautiful, so attractive, that they get attached to it and even do not want to leave it. So St. John says: “Do not love the world or the things in the world. If anyone loves the world, love for the Father is not in him. For . . . the world passes away and the desire for it; but he who does the will of God lives for ever” (John 2:15).

We are meant to find God in His creation, to pass through the visible to the invisible, to “look at the rainbow and praise Him who made it” (Ecclus. 43:12). In order to be attached to our Creator we must be detached from creatures. Detachment is a virtue which holds a high place in Orthodox thought. “A small hair disturbs the eye, and a small care prevents detachment,” says St. John of the Ladder. To love creatures instead of the Creator is idolatry. And so the Orthodox Church has wisely divided the year into seasons of meat-eating and seasons of abstinence when Christians are detached from their meat-eating. This gives a kind of rhythm to life. Actually the Orthodox Church has four Lents or Fasts: The Great Fast in preparation for Easter with Passion Week lasts 48 days. Meat, eggs, and dairy products are given up, and even fish is allowed on only two days, one day being Palm Sunday. Another period is the Advent Fast in preparation for Christmas. There is also a Fast in June and another in the first two weeks of August. But do not think that Lent is a burdensome time of sadness, even though it is a way of taking up the cross. The cross is the sweetest and lightest burden to those who love. It is no more a burden than wings are to a bird or sails to a ship, for it bears those who bear it to their destination and unites them with Christ. In a large part of the world today a perpetual fast is being observed. During every war thousands die of starvation. But the real war is always on. It is the war between light and darkness, between good and evil. As Christians we are fighting for our life. People gladly deny themselves for the short-lived joy of winning a national war. Shall we not do so for the far greater cause of the triumph of God’s Kingdom of Truth and Justice and Love?

A remarkable feature in the Orthodox Church is what may be called her sacramentalism. In order to train her children and teach them to pass through the visible to the Invisible, she uses pictures, crosses, various symbols and sacraments. The Orthodox Church calls sacraments mysteries. What does the word mystery mean to you? A mystery is not something of which you can understand nothing, something which is all darkness; it is more like a circle of light surrounded by darkness. So we speak of the mystery of the Holy Trinity, because we can understand how God must be three in One because He is love; we can understand that up to a point, but we cannot fully grasp God because He is infinite and we are finite.

For convenience we say that there are 7 Sacraments or Mysteries in the sense of visible actions conveying spiritual life and grace. But there is no hard and fast rule about the number. Many saints have taught that the service of monastic profession is a sacrament equal to marriage, because a monk needs grace to live the monastic life just as much as a married couple need it to live a holy and happy family life. The Holy Mysteries or Sacraments are neither the end nor the essence of the spiritual life. They are means of grace, and only means. But these means have a great importance in the life of the Church. Because God has clothed our spirits in material bodies He binds Himself to use material things in communicating with us. And so His law and practice in nature and grace is to give us His Gifts through the hands of His creatures. In other words God works through agents. So our life comes through a human father and mother, light through the sun, breath through the air, food through the earth. It is the same with spiritual things. The science of the Sacraments is through the material to the spiritual, through the visible to the Invisible. They teach us to find God through His creatures, to find Life through matter. The wonderful works of creation all tell us of the divine Presence, Power, Beauty, and Love. If it is not unworthy of God to have made material things, it is not unworthy of Him to use them. So from the cradle to the grave the Church provides for us through the Mysteries. In Baptism, through three-fold immersion in water a child of nature is made a child of grace, dies with Christ and rises for eternal life. In Chrismation or Confirmation the Gift of the Holy Spirit is given. In Confession sins committed after baptism are washed away in the blood of Christ. In the Orthodox rite the priest and penitent stand together before the Book of the Gospels and the Cross, and in the prayers the priest says: “Christ stands here invisibly present, I am but a witness”. So the priest doesn’t stand between the penitent and God. But as sin is an offense against God and man, the priest stands as a witness to represent God and man, in accordance with the Word of God: “Confess your sins one to another” (Jas. 5:16). In the Eucharist or Liturgy, through Holy Communion the soul is fed on the Bread of Heaven and the “medicine of immortality”. In ordination, through the laying of a bishop’s hands, special grace is given for the work of the ministry. And last of all Unction is the mystery in which, through anointing with consecrated oil, the sick receive forgiveness of sins and healing of the body and soul.

As man is soul and body, so Orthodox worship requires the homage of both. An Old Testament ideal, of course: “That you may worship the Lord our God by everything that you do” (Jos. 4:24*). Says St Isaac the Syrian: “Every prayer in which the body does not participate and by which the heart is not affected is to be reckoned as an abortion without a soul”. So in Orthodox worship we bow with our will and with our body as well, that is we make prostrations to the ground. Another feature is the sign of the cross. Just as the Name of Jesus is made by a movement of the tongue, so the sign of the cross is made by a movement of hand and arm. The cross is the sign of faith, hope and love; it is the Christian sign, which God wants us never to forget so He puts it everywhere. Every tree, every telegraph pole is a cross. What a book is to a literate person, a picture is to an illiterate. It brings him understanding.

And we believe in the Communion of the Saints, because there is now no death and all are alive in God. We ask the Saints to pray for us, and we pray for those who are not yet saints. Do you ever ask anyone to help you do anything? Well, when you make any request of a friend, you may as truly through him pray to God as in formal worship (Mt. 25: 24-44). It is the will of God to give us help and life through His creatures.

One of the most popular of Russian Saints is St. Seraphim (1760-1833). He was canonized only in 1903. He had a wonderful conversation with a layman in winter with the snow on the ground. He told him the aim of the Christian life is the acquisition of the Holy Spirit of God. All that we do for Christ’s sake are only so many means for acquiring the Holy Spirit. Then, whilst standing in the forest with the snowflakes still falling, they were both flooded with light so that it was difficult for Motoviloff to look at St. Seraphim. In spite of the cold they were warm, and there was a wonderful heavenly fragrance. What was then revealed is full of deep truth. It is certainly on a level with the revelations made to the holy prophets of old. But as the conversation covers about thirty pages I cannot speak of it more now. Many of the Saints regained something of the power over creatures that Adam had before the Fall. St. Seraphim fed wild bears from his hand, and one even obeyed him — would come and go when he told it. In them “perfect love casts out fear” (1 John 4:18).

I will end with an incident from contemporary life. Not long ago in Soviet Russia, a big meeting or demonstration was staged and crowds of people came together. In the centre was a wooden platform from which Communist speakers spoke of the benefits and advantages of being a Communist, of what a wonderful Super-State world communism would be, and of how all religions were mere superstition, a hindrance to progress, and that Christian faith is a kind of opium that sends people to sleep, so that they live in a false world; and that believers are a danger to an atheist state. After the communists had spoken, believers were invited to speak for five minutes each, to prove the wonderful freedom that they pretend exists in the Soviet Paradise. One simple man came forward, a village priest. As he mounted the platform he was warned, “Mind, not more than five minutes!” To which he replied, “I won’t need as much as that”. Now, it is the custom in the Orthodox Church at Easter time for the priests at certain points in the church services to greet the congregation in a loud voice with the words, “Christ is risen!” to which the people reply, “He is risen indeed”. This simple priest simply went to one edge of the platform and in a loud voice said, “Christ is risen!” The response came from the crowd as one man like a clap of thunder, “He is risen indeed!” In the four directions of the compass the priest repeated his message, his Gospel, his greeting, and the same response was repeated like a lion’s roar each time. Then he stepped down from the platform. There wasn’t a shadow of doubt who won the day, or on whose side the crowds were. And the Communists quickly closed the meeting. That is the state of affairs in darkest Russia today, the modern slave-state. It only goes to prove that wherever men have true faith in the Risen and Crucified Christ, He continues to work His miracles and to manifest His victorious power and glory that triumphs over all obstacles.

 

* Orthodox version of the Bible [i.e., of the Old Testament] (Septuagint).

 

 

Shared for the sake of dialogue: “Defilement Through Heresy – A Zealotist-Schismatic Concept”

Hieromonk Lavrentie (Carp) | March 2, 2021

 

 

It is fundamental that there be as well-defined and powerful a reaction as possible against Ecumenism, which is spreading and has gained strength especially through the synodal validation at Crete (2016). Nevertheless, vigilance and care are needed that it be in a good and edifying spirit, one that seeks the restoration and consolidation of the much-tormented unity of the Church.

There is a danger of slipping into another extreme, that of rigorism of a zealotist–Old-Calendarist nature and even provenance. I am referring to the idea of participation in, or defilement through, heresy by the commemoration of a heretical hierarch who has not, however, been officially condemned. This concept is developed more broadly in the second part of the book The Teaching of the Ecumenical Councils on Defilement through Heresy and the Validity of the Holy Mysteries, [original Greek title: “The Concept of Defilement of the Orthodox from Ecclesiastical Communion with Uncondemned Heretics”], written by a Greek “hieromonk,” Eugenios, and translated into Romanian by Fr. Ciprian Staicu, and I will focus on analyzing the arguments found in its lines. Even though I will not dwell on all aspects, so that the article does not become tiresomely long, nevertheless most of the points will be touched upon.

The Athonite group with a zealotist-schismatic influence and roots

First of all, it must be known that the Greek author is a monk ordained priest among the Old-Calendarists, but who left that group. He was also in Romania, and at the opening of the conference held at Târgu Frumos in 2019, certain clarifications were made regarding his situation.

(See: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a9faubW1mm8)

It is very good that he abandoned the Old-Calendarist structure of which he had been part, yet it should be kept in mind that he passed through them, because it is possible that he preserved from there precisely the theory of defilement through heresy and of the obligation to cease the commemoration of a bishop who falls into a dogmatic error, but is not yet deposed. This suspicion is strengthened by the fact that the material in the book was documented over the course of 10 years, thus before the Council of Crete. The first concern was to show the validity of the Mysteries, as a counteraction to the zealotists, and then the so-called necessity of walling off.

As is very well known, there are several Fathers who have ceased commemoration from the Holy Mountain who fall along the same line, among whom [Fr.] Savvas Lavriotis is the best known in Romania. I was impressed by him and in general by all of these men because they are studious and have researched the issue of Ecumenism and of the cessation of commemoration according to patristic texts. Unfortunately, I have also observed glaring errors, which betray a very superficial attitude. I give here the example of an elder from the Paterikon who was supposedly in danger of losing his salvation because he participated in services where a heretical hierarch was commemorated.

(See here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9UpkWUJHge4&t=1020s)

There are major differences between the account given by Monk Savvas and the text in question: the monk was not on his deathbed, an angel did not appear to him in order to warn him, but to show him that he was losing his soul because he was going to the heretics; it was not a question of some uncondemned dogmatic error, nor of the commemoration of the hierarch, but of belonging to the Orthodox Church or to the Monophysites. Therefore, the use of that incident is altogether unfortunate, because it has no connection with the present situation of Ecumenism. And the conclusion is that there exists an insincere tendency to adapt the patristic testimonies to one’s own convictions instead of submitting one’s own mind to that of the Fathers.

However, it should be kept in mind that the Athonite fathers and the group connected with them are making efforts to understand correctly the issue of the cessation of commemoration; they have not remained in the Old-Calendarist delusion and are genuinely interested in patristic teaching. By contrast, will they have the strength to carry this undertaking through to the end and correctly, renouncing personal ambitions?

The contradiction between the validity of the Mysteries and defilement through heresy

Father Eugenios’ book deals with two major subjects: the validity of the Mysteries of clerics until their deposition and, on the other hand, defilement through communion with uncondemned heretics. The analysis made is based especially on the testimony of seven Ecumenical Councils (considered to be 9 in total), the first and the second not being taken into account because their minutes have not been preserved. Only the Fifth Ecumenical Council is taken as testimony for participation in heresy, and the remaining 6 in order to demonstrate the validity of the Mysteries.

So detailed is the proof that [unjudged] heretics were authentic bishops of the Church and that even their ordinations were recognized, that there is almost no need for any argument on my part to show the groundlessness of the theory of defilement through heresy, that is, of the communicating-vessels theory upheld in the second part. Why? Because at the Councils, not only were the heretics Nestorius, Dioscorus, Macarius, and others spoken of as valid hierarchs, but also as “co-ministers.” That is, they were not merely clerics of the Church, but there existed communion with them. Only after their deposition was concelebration with them rejected. I do not know how I could explain this contradiction in the book except that the appellation “co-minister” was taken only as an indication of rank, and not also of liturgical communion, which is incomprehensible even so.

Eugenios himself writes about the letters of St. Cyril of Alexandria before the convening of the Third Ecumenical Council: “St. Celestine, Pope of Rome, is called co-minister; therefore, to the same extent that it refers literally to Pope Celestine, it also refers just as literally to Nestorius” (p. 18). A little further down he adds: “we mention that until the sending of the third epistle to Patriarch Nestorius, Saint Cyril was in communion with him” (p. 21). Then even the members of the council call him “most pious,” “most honorable,” “most honored by God” (p. 26) until his deposition from his rank. Therefore, it is very clear that he was not only a bishop, but also in communion with the Church, because he was called by Saint Cyril “co-minister” and by the Council with the above appellations, which are fitting only for someone who is in ecclesiastical communion.

The Fourth Ecumenical Council at Chalcedon proceeds in the same way with Patriarch Dioscorus of Alexandria, whom it does not call a “pseudo-bishop,” but “bishop beloved of God.” Moreover, in the summons addressed to him to appear in person, it is written: “…knowing that your presence is being made without suspicion (he is granted the presumption of innocence)” (p. 43). Thus, it is evident that communion existed; otherwise, he could not have been summoned to the Council as a fellow-brother.

Passing over the similar case of Patriarch Macarius of Antioch at the Sixth Ecumenical Council, at the following Council, the Seventh, the recognition of the priesthood and ordinations of uncondemned heretics is decreed in a general manner after an extensive debate. The second canon of St. Athanasius is brought into discussion, from which it follows that uncondemned heretics have sacerdotal grace, and the letter of St. Basil the Great to the Nicopolitans, from which it is clear that he did not recognize the ordinations of those condemned and broken off from the Church, yet did not reject those who remained within her bounds. In the end, the Council receives the 11 Iconoclast bishops (who were repenting of their delusion) as a gesture representing the Church’s attitude from all time. Also interesting is the clarification that their reception does not amount to an entrance back into the clergy, but to a passing from a mistaken party into the right-glorifying one, both being within the canonical boundaries, but in a conflict that absolutely had to be resolved. In the author’s words, “those returned from among the Iconomachs are to unite with the other part of the Church, that of the iconophiles” (pp. 107-108). “Take note, through this there are not two churches, for the Church is one, yet the flocks come to be two; they are in fact two Local Churches, at a distance from one another” (p. 112).

From these testimonies it is clear that communion with the heretics existed until the moment of their synodal condemnation.

The communion between the Orthodox and the Iconomachs

Although on p. 117 it is said that “the Orthodox had no communion whatsoever with the Iconomachs (who did not venerate the icons),” nevertheless the reality seems to have been otherwise. It is described succinctly even in the preceding pages (75), where there is mention of the actions of certain bishops to prevent the convening of a Council in 786 that would proclaim the right faith, that is, the veneration of icons. These began to hold, as is described in the Acts of the Seventh Council, illicit assemblies (parasynagogues). But those who were doing this drew back at the threats of Patriarch Tarasios that he would depose them for this deed. That is, he threatened them not for heresy, but for schism, more precisely for an illicit separatist grouping. Therefore, before these oppositions, they were bishops in communion with the Orthodox Patriarch appointed by the empress who wanted to restore right-glorification in the Church. There is almost no need to appeal to other sources to confirm this thing.

A somewhat similar assertion refers to the hesychasts led by St. Gregory Palamas, namely that they supposedly did not have communion with the Barlaamites (p. 136). Nevertheless, although there was a rupture of communion there, it was not initiated by the Orthodox, but by Patriarch Kalekas and subsequently by other bishops who were adherents of the heresy. Because this subject has already been treated in detail, I will not develop it here.

[English translation here: https://orthodoxmiscellany.blogspot.com/2026/07/the-struggles-of-saint-gregory-palamas.html]

The defilement of the Mysteries through heresy

Two statements are cited from the Acts of the Ecumenical Councils from which it would follow that the Holy Mysteries are defiled by heretical ministers. One comes from the letter/Typos of Emperor Justinian, who writes that, by the request that Pope Vigilius be removed from the diptychs, he proves his care for the Church: “…that you may learn how much care the most peace-loving emperor has for the union of the Holy Churches and for the purity of the Holy Mysteries” (p. 168). This passage is understood through another, from the same work: “and we forbid all those who attempt to divide the catholic Church of God, whether through the teaching of Nestorius, who is bereft of the rein of the mind, or through the absurd tradition of Eutyches, or through the blasphemy of Severus and of those who think these things, or through those who wanted to bring disturbances to the Most Holy Churches and to say something about the faith; but we decree that each of these be guided with quietness and not be received to approach or dare to defile Holy Communion and give it to them…” (pp. 172-173). The idea is clear that the Mysteries are defiled by the fact that they are given to some who have a heretical mind, who do not deserve to approach them, it being known that right faith is an indispensable condition. In addition, the conclusion that uncondemned heretics cause defilement (anyone who preaches some heresy) is unfounded and forced; on the contrary, the text refers to condemned heresies, such as those of Nestorius, Eutyches, Severus, and others from the past (“those who wanted to bring disturbances”), not from the present or future.

Also, from the Acts of the Fifth Ecumenical Council a similar fragment is taken: “we decree that he (Anthimus) be alien to every clerical dignity and function…, for light has no participation with darkness, and thus no defilement is any longer brought upon the Holy Liturgies by men who do not serve confessing Christ, the true God” (p. 173). It is a matter of incompatibility between the mistaken faith of the minister and the purity of the Mysteries of the Church. Anyone who has deluded beliefs is self-condemned at the judgment of God, but he does not automatically defile those in the Church. He may commune, but he does so wrongly, unto his own condemnation, which is called defilement of the service.

The idea of the defilement of the Mysteries, but even of the Church, is carried further with other patristic quotations. First of all, the Third Ecumenical Council excommunicated Nestorius “so that the churches might be cleansed of such defilement” (p. 174). Likewise, St. Basil the Great writes that “the holy things have been defiled; those among the people who are sound take refuge in their homes” (p. 174). But with respect to these, it must be noted that it is a matter of heretics upon whom a condemnation had been pronounced, as is clear in the case of Nestorius, and as is known about the Arians, that they had been synodally deposed several times, such as in the year 359, before the writing of Saint Basil. Even in the first part of the material, it was written that at that time the Arians had already been excommunicated, and therefore this inconsistency with his own arguments, which can be observed in the book translated by Fr. Staicu, is very curious.

The distortion, through faulty translation and interpretation, of a quotation from St. Sophronius of Jerusalem is striking. Although, at least in the Romanian rendering made by Fr. Staicu, the expression “unclean clerics, yet still uncondemned” appears, the meaning of the original term is that of “being under a curse.” Moreover, the entire quotation is a paraphrase from the Apostolic Constitutions, where the reference to unbelievers outside the Church is much clearer.

(See: https://theodosie.ro/2019/11/03/dreapta-credinta-in-vietile-sfintilor-8-sf-sofronie-al-ierusalimului/)

The quotation given from St. Joseph of Constantinople omits to say that it is a matter of union with the Latins at the Council of Lyon (1274), something even more clearly eliminated from the passage from Meletios Galisiotes, from which precisely the verse in which it is said that communion with the Italians [i.e., Latins] is condemnable is skipped. Obviously, it is a matter of union with excommunicated heretics, not with some who had not yet received a synodal condemnation.

Union with condemned heretics means automatic excommunication

As if precisely in order to forestall the reproach that there is a major difference between a cleric who preaches a new heresy and one who has united with heretical ecclesiastical structures, a straw-man demonstration is constructed (on p. 182), as though it were the same thing. It is evident that whoever goes over to the Catholics, Protestants, or other heretics automatically loses his status as Orthodox and, if applicable, his clerical rank.

Union with the Catholics, as was attempted at Lyon or Ferrara-Florence, was in terms of betrayal of the faith; it was essentially a capitulation to Rome. Even if it had been done on the basis of a middle faith, between the Orthodox and the Latins, a new structure would have resulted, different from the Orthodox Church, and again it is natural that those who would do this should automatically lose their status. Only a union of the Catholics, for example, with the Orthodox would be praiseworthy and would not have dire implications. Therefore, St. Mark of Ephesus or other confessors from the time of the two unions considered the Latin-minded to be automatically heretics and deemed it impermissible to be in communion with such people.

 

The union with the Catholics, as attempted at Lyon and Ferrara-Florence, amounted to a betrayal of the faith; it was essentially a capitulation to Rome. Even if it had been carried out on the basis of some compromise confession between the Orthodox and the Latins, the result would have been a new structure, distinct from the Orthodox Church; and it would still be natural for those responsible to lose their status automatically. Only a reunion of the Catholics, for example, with the Orthodox would be praiseworthy and would not have disastrous implications. Therefore, St. Mark of Ephesus or other confessors from the time of the two unions automatically considered the Latin-minded heretics and intolerable to be in communion with such people.

The entire demonstration attempted on the basis of the canons of the Third Ecumenical Council is irrelevant, because those do not speak of an ecclesiastical structure already condemned, but one only in the process of formation. Precisely for this reason no Ecumenical Council gave provisions as to how those returning from the heresy under their debate were to be received. For example, the First Council did not regulate the reception of the Arians, but only condemned Arianism. Likewise, the Third Council with the Nestorians, the Fourth Council with the Monophysites, the Sixth Council with the Monothelites, and the Seventh Council with the Iconoclasts, or other Councils with the Docetists, Manichaeans, Paulicians, and so on.

The difference between a condemned heresy and one not yet condemned

In the history of the Church, there are also cases in which a heresy condemned synodally gains strength again and even comes to dominate. This is the case with Arianism, Monophysitism, and Iconoclasm. When their defeat was reached, the Councils convened, in order to restore order, prescribed Chrismation for those who were returning from such heresies. The Second Ecumenical Council and the Council of the year 842, [1] which composed the Synodikon of Orthodoxy, received Arians and, respectively, Iconoclasts through Chrismation because there was a prior express condemnation and they had formed separate groups.

As I have said before, the Arians were synodally excommunicated and had a parallel existence alongside the Orthodox at least from the year 343, from the Council of Sardica. In the case of the second Iconoclast period, there was not, as far as I know, an express condemnation of the heretics, but the delusion encompassed more the area of Constantinople, and not also Rome, Jerusalem, and Antioch, for example. In addition, the Orthodox were persecuted and exiled if they did not agree to repudiate the holy icons. Thus, there existed a sort of separate grouping concentrated in the capital of the empire, with many betraying clerics at its head, together with the Patriarch. In this context, there were many martyrs and confessors, especially among the monks. Some of these were the “graptoi/branded” brothers, Theophanes and Theodore. After being subjected to various torments, they were pressured to make certain concessions, such as declaring that they had never venerated the holy icons, or receiving Communion just once with the Iconoclasts. Under the conditions in which a Robber Council had been convened in 815 and a heretical Patriarch chosen, and the majority of the Orthodox had left the capital or were in open opposition to the deluded imperial line, it is difficult to say how the refusal to be in communion with the Iconoclasts should be classified. Was it a simple reaction of generalized confession or a necessity? However things may stand, the attitude of these confessors cannot give us a categorical indication.

However, here it is worth developing an important subject: what the condemnation of a heresy means and what implications it has. Although dogmatic deviations are related to one another, this does not mean that all are implicitly condemned, as is suggested in the book we are analyzing. For example, if Nestorianism is another form of Apollinarianism (a teaching rejected at the Second Ecumenical Council, which said that Christ was not fully man, but that His divinity took the place of the mind or soul), or if Monothelitism constitutes a nuance of Monophysitism, this does not mean that they were previously condemned heresies, but that they required synodal examination and official repudiation. Likewise in our days, although Ecumenism represents a resurrection of all heresies, it has not yet been condemned, because it represents a strictly ecclesiological deviation in the formula signed at the Council of Crete. Thus it comes about that Nestorianism, Monophysitism, and Monothelitism were uncondemned deviations until their anathematization at the Third, Fourth, and Sixth Councils. By contrast, Iconoclasm in the second phase, when the branded brothers confessed, had already been condemned. Even so, details are not very clearly known as to whether depositions were pronounced nominally upon its promoters or whether these broke away from the rest of the Orthodox Patriarchates. Or it is very probable that the majority of the confessors preferred not to enter into communion with the Iconoclasts. What is certain is that at the Council of 842, which again restored the icons, the issue raised was not that of communion, but of imposing a penance upon the apostates, the adherents of the Iconomach heresy.

The Fifth Ecumenical Council and the receiving of the Mysteries from priests with an Orthodox mind

In a letter sent by Emperor Justinian to the Council, it is affirmed that only approaching the Holy Mysteries with a pure and right mind gives us the hope of salvation, and receiving them from “priests who glorify God in an Orthodox manner” (p. 187). Moreover, the autocrat asks that Pope Vigilius be removed from the diptychs because he is of one mind with Nestorius and Theodore (of Mopsuestia), “because we will not be able to accept receiving Holy Communion either from him or from another who would not condemn this heresy” (p. 190). And indeed, the pope was deposed from his rank, although he was not exactly a heretic, but simply did not want to reject the writings under discussion before the Council, but on his own. In less than half a year, after he accepted the conditions, the pope was recognized and allowed to return to Rome from Constantinople, where he was detained.

What those who give these quotations as testimony of defilement through heresy do not observe is the fact that a synodal condemnation is required, not a simple recognition of participation in heresy. Precisely for this reason the Council had been convened, in order to resolve this problem, because “only a synodal decision and, of course, with ecumenical authority (that is, a great council) can resolve the situation” (p. 155). In other words, the debates within the synodal sessions cannot be placed on the same level as other current situations. To glorify God in an Orthodox manner does not depend on the examination of the minister’s mind, but on the official faith that he confesses.

Even from a quotation from St. John of Damascus, it follows that liturgical communion is realized not through the personal faith of each person, but through that of the Church. The Saint writes: “It is called communion (the Eucharist) and is truly so because through it He unites us with Christ and makes us… be in communion and unites us with one another, each with the other, through it” (p. 196). Therefore, what unites us is not the faith of any one of us, but Christ and the manner in which each of us approaches Him. The more closely we cleave to Him, the more closely we are in communion also with one another. Therefore, we do not commune of the faith of others, as is erroneously asserted on p. 197, but of the Body of the Lord through the faith of the Church and our own faith, that is, through the official Orthodox confession and through our mind being as pure as possible.

Communion with one who is excommunicated is forbidden

The most astonishing distortion of a patristic and canonical principle is that the prohibition against entering into communion with one who is excommunicated (Apostolic Canon 10 and Canon 2 of Antioch) does not refer to the one “who has been placed by the Church outside communion” (p. 206), but to anyone who has a heretical mind, even if he has not been excommunicated. This comes into an acknowledged contradiction with “Saint Nikodemos the Hagiorite, who followed the canonists before him” (p. 207).

The arguments brought from the lives and writings of certain Saints are pointless to discuss, because they refer precisely to communion with condemned heretics, such as especially the Italians [i.e., Latins] and the Arians. St. Athanasius the Great, Athanasius and Joseph, Patriarchs of Constantinople, and all those cited refer to heterodox who have been removed from communion. A great confusion persists from the fact that the excommunication of the Arians as early as the time of St. Athanasius, and especially of St. Basil the Great, is not admitted.

Precisely because of the prohibition against having participation with those removed from communion, the Church organized herself in such a way that today we can say: “It would be absurd for a priest, knowingly and intentionally, to commune with a deposed cleric or with an excommunicated layman” (p. 221), or: “Is there the possibility that they (monks and laymen) be given Communion by a condemned cleric or by a heretic from outside the Church? Certainly not,” and: “Is there the possibility that they (the clerics) give Communion to a layman condemned as a heretic or to an unbaptized man? Of course, not” (p. 197). But, even so, such deviations appear also in our days, when Orthodox clerics voluntarily pray with heretics, when some faithful receive communion among the Catholics, or when some priests administer the Holy Mysteries to the heterodox. Therefore, we can say only in principle that there is no [justifiable] way such deeds can happen. In any case, it would be an illogical conclusion that, in fact, the canonical norms refer to the refusal of communion with one who has even only heretical thoughts, without having been excommunicated by the Church. If it were so, grave abuses and arbitrary acts would be reached, if each person were to interpret who and how Orthodox such-and-such bishop or priest is. Precisely for this reason a clear and legitimate order was imposed, so that there might be sound principles, that they might be put into practice officially, and that it not be violated by anyone according to personal interpretations.

Misinterpreted economies

A series of 7 economies made by the Holy Fathers are brought into discussion. A few mentions must be made regarding these:

1. No proof is presented that the Churches of Rome and Alexandria “around the date of December 10, 430, ceased the commemoration of the uncondemned cleric Nestorius” (p. 265) until the convening of the Council of 431. The interpretation that the summons was put into practice at the ecumenical synodal assembly at Ephesus is more plausible.

2. The assertion that St. Maximus the Confessor “realized the existence of the heresy (of Monothelitism) when it was preached openly, in the Ekthesis of Sergius, from the year 638, and from then on he broke ecclesiastical communion” (p. 291) is contradicted by other testimonies. For example, in the book The Guardians of Orthodoxy, it is said that two voices arose in Alexandria against the union on Monoenergist and Monothelite grounds in 630: Saints Sophronius and Maximus, who “strongly opposed any concessions.” [2] This is without even bringing into discussion the fact that St. Sophronius became Patriarch of Jerusalem in 634 and was in communion with the other Primates until his death in 638.

3. The history of the rupture between Rome and the East is troubled and generally connected with the Filioque heresy. Of course, there was an economy made toward the Franks in the time of Saint Photios, but not toward the pope, who was Orthodox. The schism occurred when the popes began to include the Filioque dogma in the letters of commendation at their enthronement. But the worsening of relations between the Westerners and the Byzantines also contributed to this distancing and cessation of commemoration. Although a measured attitude was attempted, the Orthodox never made concessions in matters of faith. Even later, they called the anathematization of 1054 only a schism in order not to worsen relations with the Westerners, but they considered it a full-fledged heresy. In any case, a clear economy was that of not excommunicating the Franks already at the Photian Council (the Ninth Ecumenical) of the year 879, although this would have been required. The assertion that the Patriarchs and their Synods “had the right to apply economy for the removal of this defilement (of heresy)” (p. 345) is wrongly understood. Economy cannot be applied at the dogmatic level. If there existed doctrinal defilement through communion, then condescension could not be made. But this is why an exception can be made, as was done with the Franks, because there is no direct contamination with heresy in the middle.

Conclusions

The deeds and teachings of the Holy Fathers must be read with great attention and understood in their spirit, starting from the clear things, by which the less clear things also are to be interpreted, without being distorted by our own convictions. A humble disposition and one of sincere inquiry excludes every manifestly erroneous explanation, but also the slipping into subtle errors, difficult to perceive. In this way an extremist attitude, foreign to the Spirit of God, is avoided.

There are complex ecclesiastical situations, which can generate mistaken impressions if they are not examined sincerely. But there also appear glaring contradictions with the canonical norms, such as the distortion of the prohibition of communion with those excommunicated. In order to make a general picture, the following principles must be kept in view:

– the cessation of communion with uncondemned heretics is a right and a praiseworthy attitude, but not obligatory;

– economy can be exercised and a dogmatic deviation temporarily permitted only at the level of ecclesiastical communion, precisely because it does not presuppose the adoption of doctrinal errors;

– deluded teachings must be condemned together with those who spread them, but by Councils. It is not normal that they exist in the Church, but they are rejected through correct procedures and debates in order to preserve the right faith unaltered, and not through arbitrary attitudes;

– after a group has been condemned on the grounds of heresy or schism, communion with it represents an automatic fall outside the Church, as was the case with the Latin-minded unionists. As a remark, perhaps this is why the Ecumenical Patriarchate did not simply recognize the Ukrainian schismatics, but formed a new structure, so as not to come automatically under anathema;

– communion in the Church is made on the basis of her official faith, not on that of the participants in the service;

– the cessation of commemoration does not represent a condemnation, but a warning concerning the erroneous faith of a hierarch.

Although I am aware that it is hard for those who have ceased commemoration, who have become inflamed by an uncontrolled zeal to oppose the hierarchs who signed at Crete, to recover themselves, nevertheless I hope that they will at least have the patience to revise their attitude. I believe that God can give a good spirit in the heart of those who examine, with an anxious conscience, the danger of Ecumenism, but also of zealotism, and that this article may be an invitation to deepen and even revise the principles that ought to stand at the foundation of the cessation of commemoration, or perhaps even to a broader and clarifying debate.

Unfortunately, it is not only Monk Savvas and those around him who hold this theory of communicating vessels.

Finally, the greatest danger comes from Ecumenism and from betrayals of the faith, but attention is needed in order to form a useful counterweight in a right-glorifying spirit and understanding.

 

[1] See George Peter Bithos, Saint Methodios of Constantinople. A Study on His Life and Writings, trans. Dragoș Dâscă, Doxologia Publishing House, 2015, pp. 129-133.

[2] Vasilios Papadakis, The Guardians of Orthodoxy, Egumenița ed., 2015, p. 212.

 

Romanian source:

https://theodosie.ro/2021/03/02/intinarea-prin-erezie-o-conceptie-zelotist-schismatica/

The Miracle of Saint John of Shanghai Concerning the Frying Pan

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