“To Remain Free and Not Seek Sponsors”: Lesna Convent

The abbess of the largest Orthodox women’s monastery in France discusses the history of the monastery and the challenges connected with the “special military operation” and the hegemony of the Russian Orthodox Church.

Alexander Soldatov | May 28, 2025 | Novaya Gazeta

 

 

“Lesna Monastery is only a matter of time,” Patriarch Kirill said in December 2016, answering questions from representatives of the Russian emigration during his visit to France. The head of the Russian Orthodox Church most likely had in mind the “inevitability” of the largest Orthodox women’s monastery in France being absorbed by the Moscow Patriarchate. In the same way, during the first two decades of the present century, most of the monasteries and parishes of the formerly independent Russian Church Abroad and of the Russian Archdiocese of Paris, which belonged to the Patriarchate of Constantinople, had already been absorbed.

But the monastery in the village of Provemont in Normandy, where approximately twenty nuns and an equal number of female and male lay workers now reside, is still holding out, preserving its independence and the “continuity of the tradition” that dates back to the nineteenth century.

In 1885, it was founded in the Polish village of Lesna (Leśna Podlaska), in a region inhabited predominantly by Roman Catholics but which, before the First World War, formed part of the Russian Empire. The principal sacred object of this “experimental” monastery—oriented toward active social ministry and the preaching of Orthodoxy in a non-Orthodox environment—became the icon of the Mother of God, which had been venerated as wonderworking since the seventeenth century. Together with it, the sisters of the monastery (at the time of the first evacuation, in 1915, there were about five hundred of them!) passed through several countries during the first half of the twentieth century—Russia, Bessarabia, and Serbia—until they finally settled in France in 1950. In 1967, they were able to purchase a large estate of several dozen hectares in the village of Provemont, between Paris and Rouen, in the valley of a small river winding among the rapeseed-covered hills of Normandy. Its proximity to the capital and accessibility by transport make the journey to the monastery easier for hundreds of pilgrims from different countries. All are received hospitably, without being asked about their ecclesiastical jurisdiction, although on major feast days there may not be enough room for everyone.

The monastery is situated on the outskirts of the village. Its formal Art Nouveau gates are adorned with an eight-pointed cross and a copy of the wonderworking Lesna Icon. The nuns live in the main three-story building, on one side of which lies a picturesque clearing with neatly trimmed cypress trees, and on the other, a meadow descending toward the river. To the right of the gates, buildings have been constructed for pilgrims; to the left stands an old French church with the traditional rooster atop its spire. It was once Roman Catholic, but today only the stained-glass windows depicting French saints recall this, while the eastern part of the church is separated by a Russian-style iconostasis with beautiful icons by Pimen Sofronov—perhaps the most famous Old Believer iconographer of the twentieth century. Every day, morning and evening, unhurried services are held in the church, accompanied by the singing of the nuns’ choir, which preserves the distinctive Lesna chants.

The monastery’s present abbess, Euphrosynia (Molchanova), the seventh since the monastery’s founding, shared with a Novaya Gazeta correspondent the secret of the continuity of the Lesna tradition, the particular features of its present status, and its plans, and also spoke about how the “special military operation” has affected the life of the monastery…

 

 

A Monastery of a New Type

—Lesna is the only monastery of the Russian tradition in the West whose ministry has continued uninterrupted since before the Revolution. At the same time, the monastery managed, so to speak, to evade the embrace of the Moscow Patriarchate, to which nearly all the monasteries of the Russian diaspora gradually submitted. Why was your monastery in particular able to hold out in this way? What is the secret?

—The monastery was unique from the very time of its establishment in the late nineteenth century. It was founded as an open, missionary monastery on the very frontier of the Russian Empire [now eastern Poland, Biała County in the Lublin Voivodeship.—A.S.], and Mother Ekaterina (Efimovskaya) was invited to take charge of it all. The monastery immediately engaged in active social and educational work. According to the accounts of her contemporaries, Mother Ekaterina was a very charismatic person.

According to tradition, the Elder Ambrose of Optina, to whom she went for a blessing, said to Mother Ekaterina: “Establish the new monastery in a new way.” He placed his mantle upon her and gave the sisters their first prayer rule.

Saint John of Kronstadt also strongly supported the monastery and its entirely new orientation.

In that era, schools and orphanages were being opened at many monasteries, a movement of sisters of mercy arose, and the role of women in the Church and society was being vigorously discussed. It was amid this current that Mother Ekaterina created a monastery of a new type. It was no coincidence that she wrote extensively about the revival of the order of deaconesses, that is, the ordination of women to the diaconal rank. It was envisaged that the first school for women seeking such a ministry would open precisely at Lesna.

War played a major role in the history of the monastery. The First World War broke out precisely in those regions, and Bishop Anastasy (Gribanovsky), the future First Hierarch of the Russian Church Abroad, entrusted the community of sisters with the care of the wonderworking Lesna Icon so that it would not be left in Lesna under occupation. The icon was no longer tied to a particular place, and afterward, wherever we found ourselves, each place was called Lesna. Although Lesna is now a village in Poland, even here in Provemont, France, we are called “Lesna.” In general, the monastery began its wanderings in 1914, and later, when Bishop Anastasy became Bishop of Chișinău, he invited the sisters to join him—and thus, together with the icon, they moved from country to country.

When Bessarabia became part of Romania and the authorities of that country decided to change the calendar, the sisters resolved that they would not adopt the New Calendar but would preserve their tradition, and the entire community, together with the icon, moved to Serbia. Later, after Serbia, when the Reds came there, they moved to France. We have now been here for seventy-five years—the longest period in the monastery’s history. We are not attached to Lesna as a place; for us, Lesna is a tradition.

—I have heard talk that this place, too, may not be the monastery’s final home and that perhaps you will move to America…

—No, we were simply invited to open a metochion there, and we are trying to do so. But for the time being, no one intends to move the entire monastery. Of course, everything is in God’s hands. At one point, we thought that perhaps we might return to Russia, and we bought a house near Belgorod. But it did not work out…

One Trial After Another…

—The monastery has a distinctly Russian character, yet canonically you found yourselves within the Serbian True Orthodox Church. Was it really so difficult to find something among the Russian ecclesiastical jurisdictions, which are now innumerable, that you had to turn to the Serbian Church?

—That is precisely the problem: they are innumerable. At first, we joined the Russian True Orthodox Church [RTOC; one of the “fragments” of the Russian Church Abroad that did not support its rapprochement with the Russian Orthodox Church in the early 2000s.—A. S.], which we regarded as a continuation of the Catacomb Church of the Soviet period. It was a great consolation for us that something genuine had been preserved in Russia, that after all our disappointments in the Church Abroad we had found the authentic catacomb tradition. But when everything there too began to go awry, it was a very great disappointment.

The fragmentation into endless groups also affected the RTOC, and trying to make sense of it all is an ordeal in itself. Moreover, our monastery has a strong historical connection with Serbia. By that time [Lesna Monastery joined the Serbian True Orthodox Church in 2016.—A. S.], we already knew the Serbian Bishop Akakije well, whose episcopal consecration took place precisely here, at Lesna. We regard our present status as temporary, without losing hope that the situation in the Russian Church will be rectified. All the more so because, in Europe, none of these Russian jurisdictions and groups has a resident bishop, while the Serbian bishops are geographically the closest to us, which is also convenient from a purely practical standpoint.

—You yourself were born in America, in Brooklyn. Why did you choose Lesna Monastery while still young? There are also women’s monasteries of the Russian tradition in America.

—When I began seriously considering monasticism, there was Novo-Diveevo Monastery near New York. But circumstances there were such that the monastery had become merely a pious branch of a home for the elderly. There was also the monastery in Boston, but it did not belong to our Russian tradition; there was something in California as well, but I did not know them at all. My spiritual father was Metropolitan Philaret (Voznesensky) [the third First Hierarch of ROCOR, who died in 1985.—A. S.]; in those years, he spent every summer at Lesna. He greatly valued and loved this monastery and always spoke of it as an exemplary women’s monastery, and this played a part in my decision.

At that time, I often visited and even lived at the Monastery of Saint Mary Magdalene in the Holy Land [in Gethsemane, not far from the Old City of Jerusalem.—A. S.], but the situation there was very precarious then. The monasteries were not communal; that is, one had to think about how to support oneself in those lands. And the way of life there is such that one must constantly feel oneself to be a pilgrim.

In my view, it is a particular calling—to pray in the holy places and commemorate there those who ought to be commemorated—but at that time I did not encounter there the kind of concentrated monastic life I was seeking.

At that time, I was deeply interested in Byzantium and Greek chants, and I spent several months in Greece, traveling from monastery to monastery. But there too I found neither a place nor a person who could convince me that Greece was the right choice. After that, I came here, and it was a very difficult moment in the monastery’s history: Abbess Magdalena (Grabbe) had broken her hip and was in the hospital; the spiritual father, Father Arseny, had left for Australia after a quarrel with Metropolitan Philaret; the dean and the deputy abbess did not get along with one another; and there was complete chaos here. And nevertheless, the monastery continued to live its own life: the divine services continued, the sisters prayed… And I realized that, if I had come here at such a difficult time and the spiritual life was continuing as it should, then there was something here. Afterward, I went to the hospital to visit Mother Magdalena, and then I made my decision: that was it—I was staying.

—Did you choose the monastic path from your youth, or were there some hesitations?

—I knew from childhood that I wanted to serve the Church in some way. I belonged to the Russian Scout movement, and when I was in my sixteenth year, our beloved leader died—the first death of someone close to me that I had experienced. In his memory, a group of us young people and scouts decided to make a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. At that time, the Church Abroad organized special youth pilgrimages: we traveled for six weeks through Italy and Greece. It was then, in the Holy Land, that I first saw monasteries with young fully professed nuns and rassophore nuns, and for the first time this became a possible choice for me. Two years later, I returned to live for a time in the Holy Land, and it was then that I made my decision.

—Did you manage to receive any secular education?

—Yes, I am an art historian by training, but I did not complete the course of study.

Missionary Work

—On what basis are sisters now admitted to the monastery? They come from different countries and different cultures… Do you select them in some way? Is there some kind of screening process?

—No. As Mother Magdalena used to say: “The Lord sends each person.” Now, when there is no genuine, sound parish life, it is very beneficial for everyone to spend at least some time in a monastery, where Church life is concentrated. One simply cannot find this anywhere anymore. And many women come for precisely this reason—almost all of them leave, but if everything is properly ordered, even a brief experience of life in a monastery remains with them for the rest of their lives. Sometimes they come in other ways as well: they write to us, make inquiries, and enter our monastery…

Nowadays, it is very difficult for modern people to embrace monasticism. Perhaps it has always been this way: there is a certain core of genuinely dedicated monastics, and around them are all sorts of people—some remain, while others leave.

—Is it true that there is a plan to establish a Russian cemetery on the monastery’s grounds?

—We have long hoped to obtain permission. This is a typically French peculiarity: when you ask about it, they immediately reply: “In France, there is no concept of a private cemetery.” But then they add: “Of course, you may request permission to bury your sisters and members of the community on your own land.”

This means that people will have to be registered as members of our community, and permission for each burial will have to be requested separately. One cannot simply open a cemetery. A great deal depends on the position of the French authorities and on who exactly is in charge in the prefecture. So far, we have already received the consent of the village and of the local rural community.

—The monastery carries out missionary work: it establishes parishes in various countries…

—Our monastery has always been called missionary, but the present situation arose because, when we did not join the Moscow Patriarchate, there proved to be quite a number of people in Europe who shared our views and wished to follow this path. I would not say that all of them are ideological opponents of the Moscow Patriarchate. A fairly large proportion of the people in such parishes are those who love our monastery or simply trust it: if the monastery has chosen this path, then they will follow the monastery. Others made their choice for ideological reasons. And these people had to be provided with pastoral care somehow.

We currently have three missionary parishes in Germany and one in Spain, and we have periodically celebrated services in Italy and the Netherlands. Ukraine—including the community in Chernigov and Father Nikon of Zhmerynka—also became part of our mission. Then the French mission, headed by Father Romaric, who was ordained here, joined us. He has at least two communities, and now a third has appeared as well. Finally, there is also a community of Moldovans who have moved to France.

—What is your view of the process of inculturating Orthodoxy on French soil?

—Saint John (Maximovitch) himself [a hierarch of the Russian Church Abroad, 1896–1966; in the 1950s he headed the Western European Diocese; he was glorified among the saints and is venerated by all branches of the Russian Orthodox Church.—A. S.] was engaged in this work; after all, French Orthodoxy existed in ancient times. To some extent, it needs to be recreated, but I am not an advocate of experiments with Gallican liturgies or other ancient rites. The contemporary mission of Father Romaric himself is directed mainly toward traditionalist Catholics who have become disillusioned with the Vatican. And there are many of them.

Generally speaking, the French adhere to a secular tradition and to the strict separation of Church and state. Nevertheless, a small but active proportion of believers has remained—people who are searching and who, among other things, are coming to Orthodoxy. But unlike the official Orthodox Churches, the Roman Catholics do not provide us with churches in which to celebrate services, so it is difficult to find premises and resources, but the work somehow goes forward.

—Do you maintain contacts with the other Orthodox Churches in France—especially those that do not belong to official Orthodoxy?

—We try to. We have good relations with the True Orthodox Church of France and with the Russian parish in Lyon. Of course, I would like everyone to treat one another more kindly and somehow try to work toward reunification. It is unlikely that this will be the Russian Church Abroad as it was before, but nevertheless, something could still be brought together.

Wars Cannot Be Justified

—Would it be correct to say that, in 2022, the monastery adopted a peacemaking position and opened its doors wide to the victims of hostilities?

—I would not say that we adopted any clearly defined peacemaking position. I do not impose my opinion on anyone—perhaps this is connected with my American roots, with recognizing everyone’s freedom to think as he wishes. We have both parishioners and sisters who hold a wide variety of views. Of course, wars are aggression and suffering for many people, especially in our time (…).

Receiving refugees was a purely Christian decision. Hospitality and assistance to those in need have always been a principal monastic virtue. In accordance with the Gospel, we could not have acted otherwise.

Another consideration was that the French authorities knew that we had accommodations for pilgrims here, so sooner or later they would have turned to us to house the influx of new refugees. Therefore, from the very beginning, in the spring of 2022, I contacted practically everyone I knew in Ukraine and said: if you need to leave and go somewhere, then please come to us. My reasoning was that it would be better for us to receive people we knew than simply those whom the authorities might send to us.

—How many refugees have passed through the monastery over these three years?

—Altogether, about twenty-five people. Some stayed for a long time, others for a shorter period. Two of them were from Russia. Of course, receiving them is not easy, and we have had many difficult cases. There is a well-known French film, The Dialogue of the Carmelites, about a women’s monastery during the French Revolution. One of the heroines comes from a noble family and supports the king, while the brother of another nun is fighting in the ranks of the revolutionaries. He is killed, and a letter found in his pocket is brought to his sister, the nun. And in the film, the abbess addresses the sisters: “You see, we have both one side and the other among us. And it is not our task to judge who is right here and who is wrong. Our task is to pray for all who are afflicted and suffering.”

—What are the monastery’s principal needs at present? What kind of assistance do you need?

—Well, first of all, moral support and prayer. The Moscow Patriarchate does not leave us without attention, and we constantly receive hints: if only you were with them, all the material problems would quickly be resolved and sponsors would be found. But we have always considered ourselves sufficiently free and have remained free, and we have no intention of seeking sponsors toward whom we would afterward have to feel indebted and whose wishes we would have to take into account. If anyone is able to help in some way, we will commemorate those people, thank them, and the Lord will bless them.

When the monastery moved to France, someone asked Abbess Theodora: “Mother, in what do you place your hope?” And she replied: “In the Mother of God.” They answered her: “Yes, of course, that is all understood, but realistically, what will the monastery live on? How will you maintain all of this?” And Mother Theodora simply said: “That is the most real thing there is.” I have been here for more than forty years, and that is exactly how it is: our life is a continual miracle. According to every secular, worldly, financial, and administrative consideration, we should have ceased to exist long, long ago.

 

Russian source:

https://novayagazeta.ru/articles/2025/05/28/ostavatsia-svobodnymi-i-ne-iskat-sponsorov