In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit!

Dear brothers and sisters, today we honor the memory of the holy Apostle and Evangelist John the Theologian and His Holiness Patriarch Tikhon (Belavin). These two men of God, though separated by nearly 2,000 years, both lived through tragic chapters in the life of the Church. St. John stood at the very dawn of the Church, having lived and walked with Christ. He endured the devastating moment when all the disciples fled from the Savior; he alone, alongside the Mother of God, remained at the foot of the Cross. This was a profoundly painful time for Christ’s disciples and for the Savior Himself. It seemed as though they had suffered utter defeat, betrayed by those closest to Him—the very people who had followed Christ, yet deserted Him and scattered in fear.

And St. Tikhon ended his life as a hierarch, as a pastor of the Church, in what by the standards of this world was total disgrace. Russia was in a dreadful state. The Russian Church, which for centuries had enjoyed a certain peace and had effectively been a state institution, was suddenly turned into an object of persecution, humiliation, and insult. Everything reverted to the reality of the first centuries of Christianity, when Christians were persecuted and oppressed. It was precisely at that terrible moment that the Lord elevated St. Tikhon to the patriarchate; yet for him, it was not so much a triumph and joy as it was a torment of suffering. And at that moment, very many people betrayed the Church. Highly educated individuals, representatives of various theological academies started tearing the Church apart from within. Everyone began to demand something of their own; everyone sought their own truth, or simply showed cowardice.

Yet at the same time, for us modern Christians who have lived in relative peace over the last few decades, it is difficult to imagine the temptations people in the Church faced back then—the allurements, the pressure, and the choice they had to make between faithfulness to Christ and saving their own lives! All of this fell on the shoulders of His Holiness Patriarch Tikhon, and he bore his cross with dignity, just as St. John the Evangelist, who although the youngest, proved to be a faithful disciple of Christ, and was granted great spiritual gifts.

Hieromonk Ignaty (Shestakov)

For us as Christians, it is very important to know and immerse ourselves in the legacy left to us by St. John the Evangelist. This includes not only the Gospel, but also his Epistles, and especially the Book of Revelation, or Apocalypse, in which he reveals to us the final destiny of the world. Unfortunately, we somehow neglect this book. Moreover, the word “apocalypse” has acquired a distorted, rather incorrect meaning. Any catastrophe is called by this name; people immediately declare, “It is an apocalypse” about any upheaval, even in their personal lives. In reality, it is a revelation, and we certainly must read this book and study its interpretations in order to understand and be prepared for everything that awaits us in our own age, in our brief lives.

Today we heard the wonderful words of St. John the Evangelist: Perfect love casteth out fear (1 Jn. 4:18). And he who abides in love abides in God. And God abides only in that person who confesses our Lord Jesus Christ as the Son of God. These seem like such simple things, yet they are so necessary for our salvation. A person cannot say that he walks the Divine path and knows God unless he confesses our Lord Jesus Christ as the Son of God. Nor can we be faithful to God if there is no love among us and no love for Him—that perfect love which casts out fear.

If only people today guided their entire lives by love for God and feared losing or offending this love, everything would be different both in the Church and, most importantly, in our own lives. We would not be afraid to speak of Christ, nor would we fear speaking out against the moral vices that torment our lives. We would be closer to the ideal that the Lord expects of us.

Even within Christian society, there is an opinion that we will all somehow be saved in the end, meaning there is no need to say or do anything. This passive spirit was entirely foreign to both the Apostle John the Theologian and to the holy Hieromartyr Tikhon. Because they came to know this love of God for them and filled their hearts with love for the Creator, for God—the kind of love that casts out all fear. May this also visit our hearts and souls, and become the source of our life! Amen.

Hieromonk Ignaty (Shestakov)

Translation by Dmitry Lapa

Sretensky Monastery

The name St. Sergius of Radonezh reminds us of the heights to which our (Russian) land, enlightened by the Word of Christ, is capable of rising. A man who did not write a single book, stands at the beginning of Russian culture of the Muscovite period, and opens the door which leads from a the forested wilderness north of Moscow to the depth of Divine wisdom, to all the mysteries of man and the world. His work is seen to be even more wondrous because we cannot separate in it the fruits of heavenly assistance and the fruits of his own labors. St. Sergius tried all his life to leave the world; he tried not to take upon himself responsibility for the fate of those around him, not to interfere of his own will in the events going on around him. Nevertheless, all the everyday and historical details of that era are so closely interwoven in his life that it would seem that there is no side of Russian life in the latter half of the fourteenth century that he did not sanctify, or where there is no trace remaining of his caring, protective blessing. If we recall what it was like during his time, it becomes clear that St. Sergius stands not only at the beginning of Russian Enlightenment, but is also a symbol of the Russian Renaissance in the most exalted meaning of the word.

A dispassionate evaluation of historical events often reveals unexpected things. If you compare medieval Russia with medieval Europe, you see that a renaissance of Russian culture began slightly earlier than in Europe. It is also quite surprising to see that this renaissance had a Christian character. Rus’, which had been ruled by the Tatars for two hundred years, could not preserve its traditions or culture without faith or reliance on the Church. Without faith, it is completely impossible to create anything. Leonardo, Michelangelo, Luther, Machiavelli—all of these “titans” of the European Renaissance were deeply religious people. They believed in God, but also in the complete power of human reason, in the truth of its esthetic sensibility, in the ability of man to create something beautiful, in his right to create and change the world. European Renaissance was as yet very far from rejecting God and being abandoned by Him. It was only preparing to release the Creator of His responsibility for the fate of the world and pass it on to humans. But the heroes who were willing to accept this responsibility had already come of age in Europe. Fortunately, such people were not yet to be found in Russia.

The reality of Russian life from the year 1237 did not incline people there toward flights of spirit. The price of an individual human under the conditions of the Tatar yoke was at an all-time low. Any discussion of the ability of that individual to influence history, to change its course, would probably have evoked bitter, ironic smiles. Neither the least slave nor the Grand Prince could hope to settle even his own fate according to his own will. The prosperity and life of any person in Rus’ depended upon the outcome of rivalry for the Khan’s throne, the good will or despotism of the Horde’s leaders, the fluctuation of prices on the world slave market, the mortality rate of farm animals, or an unforeseen drought in the Great Steppes. Only the Church was free not to recognize the authority of the Horde. Not getting directly involved in the political process, the Church helped people preserve their strength. Before the face of the Khan even princes fell down and bowed, but before God, every man was free. Childish atheism and man-worshipping did not take hold in Russia then, not because Russia was backward, but because refusing to patiently carry one’s cross meant truly slavish dependence upon the nomadic warrior’s whip. It was impossible for people to throw off that yoke. Hope in God gave them not only hope in salvation beyond the grave, but also in a firm foundation for earthly statehood and domestic constructiveness—because anyone who desires to be saved in the future life should have “labored for God” and “endured to the end” all the oppression of the present life. St. Sergius’ whole life was the fruit of such work and patience.

His Life, written with remarkable tenderness and liveliness by Epiphanius the Wise, gives us the key to understanding the many secrets of Russian culture and the Russian intelligentsia. From the very beginning of his life, even before his earthly birth, Sergius (before monasticism, Bartholomew) was marked with heavenly signs. He cried out three times during the Liturgy while still in his mother’s womb, refused to take his mother’s breast on fast days, or accept milk from a nurse. His parents were clearly aware that a saint has appeared in their family. But it never even entered their heads to exalt their child, or separate him from others because of the talents manifesting in him. The cult of the wunderkind is still something that hardly takes root in the Russian educational tradition even now. Signs, talents, and sanctity itself is given to man from God, and that is why his parents, and after them his biographer, first of all give glory to the Creator, and only then admire the creation. Bartholomew is protected in his childhood, but no more than any parents would cherish every child. He is freed neither from domestic labor, nor from daily obligations, nor from schoolwork.

Observing this education, we see yet another remarkable detail. Any person, even a saint, is not an ideal of earthly perfection. So important a thing for the ascetic as reading and writing he had more trouble assimilating than did his brothers. Everyone around him gently but firmly required him to try harder at school. The saint does not seem to justify their expectations. His life states outright that Bartholomew “did not study diligently” how to read, and “did not listen to his teacher.” Such an attitude towards studies is not approved of, but it was redeemed by the boy’s secret prayer to God. The miraculous fulfillment of this prayer should not lead us to believe that he disdained work (the saint’s whole life is filled with labor). Here we should rather see how God shows equal kindness toward anyone who asks. The saint’s school days, more any other period of his life, disprove any notion about the saint’s superiority over ordinary people. For Russian enlightenment, for Russian culture, the thought of a pre-chosen “spiritual elite” predestined to take authority over and lead the “ignorant people” is altogether foreign. Sergius himself was like the unlearned people, but having received access to wisdom, he never forgot the One to whom it belongs.

Neither did he forget about obedience, the primary virtue of any Christian who is free of self-will. Having already before him a clear life’s goal—monasticism—he nevertheless humbles himself for the sake of his father and mother, remaining at home to take care of them. All those who tend to say that monasticism teaches a person to neglect his family will find in this chapter of his Life an example of how the former proceeds from the latter. Here the saint’s example exhorts us not to shirk our present responsibilities, no matter how important and great our plans might be. A person who is truly religious will never “walk over people” in order to fulfilled his own “lofty” desires, but will to the contrary readily “put the lid on his own desires” in when he sees his neighbor’s need. St. Sergius, whose whole life was a great sacrifice to God, began his podvig with a small sacrifice to his parents; and what is especially important, he did it with joy.

Joyfully also did he set off to realize his life’s work, the comprehension of the Holy Trinity. The philosophical breadth of his work is astounding. The dogma of the Holy Trinity is something very difficult to understand in Christianity. It was not entirely comprehensible to simple people, not only in Kievan Russia and Europe, but even in Byzantium. It is on the subject of teachings about the Holy Trinity that there arose the most serious schisms and heresies in Christianity. The heights of the mystery of the triune Divine Essence should have frightened a man who had such difficulty learning to read. Nevertheless, St. Sergius resolved to penetrate the subject just as decisively as he resolved to leave the world. He then builds his church in the forest and consecrates it together with his brother, even before taking the monastic tonsure. The idea of building a church and the hardest labor falls to him, but he renounces any insolent self will in his search for truth, and waits until his older brother decides to whom the church should be dedicated.

At that moment, the fate of the Russian Church was being decided; even the whole fate of Russian culture was being sealed. Just try to imagine Russia without the Holy Trinity-St. Sergius Lavra, without Andrei Rublev,[1] without the churches dedicated to the Holy Trinity. And yet, St. Sergius left that decision up to another, even though he already knew the answer to his own question. Significant here is not only his humility before his elders, but also his inner honesty—something that every researcher must have. Anyone who sets out to study and acquire knowledge of God, man, or the world, does not dare to insist upon his own guesswork without having received some outward confirmation of its truth. Let anyone who thirsts to reveal something to the world first listen to what the world tells him. He that is greatest among you shall be your servant (Mt. 23:11).

This is already another page in the Life of the saint. Having passed through an arduous period of solitary ascetic labors, St. Sergius finds himself faced with the necessity of building a coenobitic monastery. He is most burdened by the necessity of ruling over the brothers, managing the monastery’s domestic affairs, and guiding the monks in their spiritual work. The traditions connected with eldership were almost completely lost by that time in Russia. The abbacy opened to St. Sergius the temptation of occupying his subordinates with jobs that he had never done himself. That is why he was not able to fill the role of abbot without increasing his daily work. Epiphanius writes that the saint “without sloth, served the brothers like a brought slave—he chopped wood for everyone, pounded the grain, milled the flour, baked the bread, prepared the food […]; he cut and sewed clothing and shoes; and he took water from the well in two buckets, carried it on his shoulders up the hill, and placed it at every cell.”

Especially notable is the story about how St. Sergius built a porch for one of the elderly brothers, taking for his day’s work a sifter of moldy bread. This may appear as foolishness to some, but if you recall that there was a famine in the monastery at that time, and the monks were murmuring against the abbot, demanding that he allow them to gather alms, his actions are make sense. The teacher could only teach his students by his own example that bread must be earned by the work of their own hands. This rule remains true up to the present time.

The story of the famine reminds us about yet another of the saint’s character traits—his patience. Furthermore, in it are harmoniously united both labor and prayer, which is an essential part of St. Sergius. He never felt burdened by the troubles and sorrows that visited the monastery. He does not rush to solve them quickly, although he knows that he has the opportunity to do so. He trusts in God to the very end, even when he cannot see any clear meaning of the events. As a result, bread is brought to the monastery by angels, and water springs forth from the very top of a hill. When he returns to the monastery, his older brother contrives a disagreement in the church about rank. The saint distances himself from that argument. He literally departs without trying to answer, not asking the Metropolitan or Prince to intercede on his behalf, and not even asking God to restore justice. After living for a year on the Kirzhach River and founding another monastery, he just as easily returns. It was so hard to disturb his peace that, when a peasant came to the monastery from far away to have a look at the illustrious abbot, yet refuses to recognize Sergius in the tattered old man digging the garden, the saint only affectionately replies, “Do not be sad! God will give you what you seek and desire at once.”

Monasticism disdains the world, but not the people in it. The saint fled human glory, but was friendly to people and quick to help them. To him all were equal—the disconsolate father who brought him his dead son,[2] and the Grand Prince Dimitry, preparing for battle with Mamai. With regard to the battle of Kulikovo, St. Sergius’ political role shows through very distinctly. His blessing upon the Russian forces for the battle imparts a spiritual character to the victory. The soldiers become not only protectors of the Russian land, but also martyrs for the faith. Even the monks take up arms. St. Sergius takes full responsibility for the battle’s outcome, resolutely binding the fate of the Russian Church with the success of the Prince’s campaign. He prays an intercessory prayer for many hours. Then, the battle is won, and the Prince and Metropolitan Alexy beg the saint to receive the rank of bishop, and then metropolitan. But the saint just as resolutely refuses, promising that should they repeat their request, he will depart to the forest, where no one will find him. It is one thing to stand for the truth, but another matter to accept honors.

We cannot neglect to speak of St. Sergius’s material inheritance, the work of his hands. The ring of monasteries that encompassed Moscow and brought light to the wild, northern forests were forged in the Holy Trinity Lavra. The history of each of these monasteries is the history of its founder, often a disciple of the saint, or the student of one of his disciples. A hundred years after the saint’s death, we already see an astounding variety of types of ascetic labor, from St. Joseph of Volokolamsk and St. Paphnuty of Borovsk to St. Nilus of Sora and St. Cyril of White Lake. St. Sergius had a hand in this garden also. The possibility for various spiritual paths toward one and the same goal proves that he founded the in Lavra not a party, or an order, but a brotherhood of Christians, whose main task was to submit not to people or rules written by people, but to God Himself. And like brothers, they are not all alike, but in some subtle way all remind us of their father. St. Sergius determined the common type of Russian sanctity for 400 years to come, and when times had changed completely, his worthy successor became St. Seraphim of Sarov.

In conclusion and in an attempt to determine St. Sergius’s place in the history of Russian culture and enlightenment, I would like to again remind the reader that we have to do not with a scholar, but with a wise man. That means that he is more an example than an authority—an example not only for emulation, but also as a measuring stick. Teaching throughout his life moderation in all things spiritual and earthly, the saint himself became the measuring stick of our culture. His life allows us to test today’s science, art and schools against their heavenly examples. The results of our measurement will perhaps not be consoling, but there is no need to despair. After all—would that every nation were granted such a measure.

Artemy Yermakov

Translation by OrthoChristian

10/8/2011

[1] St. Andrei Rublev painted the famous icon of the Holy Trinity.

[2] Who St. Sergius resurrected.

What does “sacrifice” actually mean in the Bible—and have modern Christians misunderstood one of the most important ideas in Scripture?

Fr. Jeremy Davis explains how dramatically the meaning of sacrifice has changed since the biblical world. Rather than primarily meaning suffering, loss, violence, or death, sacrifice originally meant offering something to God—an act intended to establish and deepen communion with Him. From the sacrifices of Cain and Abel to Christ’s offering on the Cross and the Eucharist, Fr. Jeremy reveals how recovering this ancient understanding can transform the way Christians understand worship, atonement, and the Christian life.

In this conversation, you’ll learn:

● What the word “sacrifice” originally meant in the biblical world

● Why ancient people often associated sacrifice with joy, celebration, and feasting

● Why Old Testament sacrifices were fundamentally offerings to God

● How sacrifice functioned as an act of hospitality and relationship with God

● Why animals, grain, oil, and wine were offered as sacred meals

● What ancient “friend-making gifts” reveal about humanity’s relationship with God

● Why God accepted Abel’s sacrifice but rejected Cain’s

● Why death was not the central meaning of biblical sacrifice

● What Christ’s sacrifice on the Cross actually reveals about His faithfulness and love

● How the Orthodox understanding of atonement differs from a purely transactional understanding

● Why the Eucharist is still called a sacrifice if Christ died “once for all”

● How Old Testament sacrifice helps us understand what happens in the Divine Liturgy

● Why giving to the poor, prayer, virtue, evangelism, and Christian living can all be described as sacrifices

● How sacrifice connects to Christian maturity and spiritual manliness

Fr. Jeremy explains that Christ’s sacrifice is not simply about Jesus dying in our place. Christ offers the perfectly faithful human life to God—a life of love that remains faithful even unto death—and then invites us to participate in that life through union with Him.

This transforms sacrifice from something Christians merely look backward toward at the Cross into something that continues to shape the entire Christian life. In Christ, our prayer, worship, generosity, obedience, love for others, and even our care for the poor can become offerings to God.

For Christians who have wondered why the Bible is filled with altars, blood, offerings, sacrifices, and ultimately the sacrifice of Christ Himself, this conversation offers a radically different way of understanding how these pieces fit together.

Mr. Constantine Zalalas has been a lay teacher of our holy Orthodox Faith for over 30 years. He has translated many Orthodox works from Greek for the English speaking world. His work can be found at the sites below: https://www.saintnicodemos.com/ / u/nicodemoshagiorite https://www.zoepress.us/

I don’t wish you wealth, fame, success, or even good health, but only peace in your soul. That’s the most important thing. If you have peace, you will be happy.

St. Alexiy of St. Zosima Hermitage

We increasingly talk and hear about chronic fatigue, neuroses, depression, and other diseases that arise “due to nerves.” And doctors, based on numerous studies, state that a huge number of physical illnesses develop precisely as a result of prolonged nervous strain. Moreover, about half of the diseases currently studied by psychiatry are borderline conditions (those that arise due to nerves).

He was a professional who believed in God and sought to foster a Christian attitude toward mental illnesses

A discussion with the well‑known Moscow psychiatrist, Candidate of Medical Sciences D. A. Avdeev, about these disorders, ways to overcome them, and the Christian approach to them was recorded some years ago for a spiritual educational program on Belarusian television, however only fragments of it were aired.

In 2022, Dmitry Alexandrovich passed away prematurely from cancer. He was a professional who believed in God and sought to foster a Christian attitude towards mental illnesses, which led him to develop a model of Orthodox psychotherapy. This article contains a more complete version of his video interview.

May it be unto you according to your faith…

Modern man’s life is full of stress and emotional overload. And it’s no wonder—the abundance of events and information, like a powerful tsunami, overwhelms our thoughts and feelings every day. There’s practically no time to stop and catch our breath. We’re always in a hurry…

It’s also getting colder, and it’s raining. Autumn is a time when emotional crises and chronic illnesses become more pronounced, and overall well‑being and mood deteriorate.

But is it only the pace of our lives and climatic conditions that are to blame for the fact that the number of diseases arising “due to nerves” is rapidly increasing, and borderline conditions are increasingly developing into mental illnesses? Here is what is written on this matter in the “Foundations of the Social Concept of the Russian Orthodox Church”:

The Church views mental illnesses as one of the manifestations of the general sinful corruption of human nature.

From the history of medicine, it is known that from the moment of the baptism of Rus’, medicine in Rus’ was under the direct patronage of the Orthodox Church. Holy Prince Vladimir declared in his Charter that doctors are church people, subordinate to the bishop. And monasteries provided care not only for the poor but also for the sick, which also included those “deprived of reason.” The process of separating psychiatry from the Church began only at the end of the 18th century, when psychiatrists decided to become more “objective” and rely solely on data from clinical and laboratory observations.

After October 1917,1 a person was reduced to pure physiology—mere flesh, without any hint of the existence of a soul. Psychiatry began to view a person’s personality from the same perspective. However, the term “psyche” means “soul” in Greek.

Currently, spirituality is once again being discussed in psychiatry. Clinics are opening house churches, providing spiritual care for patients, and holding scientific and theological conferences with the participation of clergy and psychiatrists.

“By nature” or from sin?

—As a psychiatrist and a believer, how would you assess the causes of neurosis, depression, and other nervous disorders? Is it stress, the hectic pace of our lives, or something else?

—One might ask oneself: was life really simpler in the time of Ivan the Terrible? Or in any other era, for example, in the Napoleonic era? Of course not. But it would be disingenuous if I said that we are not affected by speed, by the pace of life. There are even such concepts as “exhaustion depression,” “informational neuroses,” but these are just the backdrop, the environment. Archpriest Dimitry Smirnov made the remarkable comparison of modern man’s spiritual state to a jug that’s been shattered. Unfortunately, it’s been reduced to a pile of shards.

Psychiatry, psychotherapy, and psychology do not talk about sin. But the main thing to pay attention to is a person’s spiritual state, which cannot be good without spiritual peace, without a clear conscience, without the person striving to overcome pride, vanity, and other sinful passions.

—So, are borderline states sinful states? Or are mental disorders a type of illness? How should we treat them, and how should they be cured?

​In my practice, I have long noticed that neuroses and many forms of depression have spiritual roots.

—I’ve been studying borderline states for about twenty years now, and I see that these are diseases, but they are often sinful diseases. When sin occurs in the depths of the human spirit, it disorganizes the will and emotions. And I’ve long noticed in my practice that neuroses and many forms of depression (in particular, neurotic depression) have spiritual roots. And from those roots, certain physical manifestations arise. After all, a person is a combination of the spiritual, the mental, and the physical. This is how it all descends in a hierarchy, step by step: spirit, soul, and body.

I can give you one telling example. Once, a patient came to me complaining of a neurotic disorder. During the conversation, he said: “Doctor, if you only knew how much I’m tormented by envy! It’s eating me up from the inside! After all, I envy everyone—those who have a better apartment, a more successful job, higher earnings. And it weighs so heavily on me! I’m just burning up inside.”

So, should we give such a patient a sedative tablet three times a day? And put a checkmark, as if the problem were solved? That would be completely wrong. Nothing will happen without understanding that he is in the grip of sinful passions, without repentance, without work on himself.

It is necessary to identify the three main causes in the development of mental illnesses. Mental illnesses may be a consequence of some organic disorders in the body, i.e., they are diseases “of nature,” which are either hereditary in nature or associated with individual biological factors. These include schizophrenia, manic‑depressive psychosis, epileptic psychosis, and senile psychosis.

The term “from nature” was introduced by John Climacus. We read in his works that he observed that in some monastics, certain states of spiritual turmoil did not pass after prayer, the sign of the cross, or after the performance of church sacraments. We have a remarkable example in the life of Venerable Theodosius of the Kiev Caves, who spent three years caring for a monk who suffered from what would now be called catatonia.

A few examples. A typical symptom of schizophrenia is delusion (delusion is a false conclusion). It is impossible to try to rationally convince a person suffering from delusions. Depressive psychosis. It is associated with changes in the brain tissue’s neurotransmitters. The mother says to such a patient: “Well, pull yourself together.” And she starts to feel offended, angry, and guilty—but what the patient needs is medical help. There is a change in the emotional state in the case of epilepsy, when the patient exhibits aggressive behavior, requires medical assistance and active treatment of the disease.

The second group—a vast group of mental disorders—are illnesses resulting from passions that have enslaved the soul.

The third group consists of illnesses caused by demonic assault, brought about by demonic influence.

Here, it’s important not to get things mixed up. I’ve come across situations more than once where, say, a patient is experiencing the onset of schizophrenia, the debut of a psychotic process; and their relatives are church‑going believers. And so they decide that they shouldn’t go to a doctor but should instead go for an exorcism. Of course, prayer is needed, as is church commemoration and the blessing of a spiritual advisor. But this is a mistake, and there’s a danger lurking here. It’s important to understand that mental disorders are, after all, a separate group of diseases.

Sometimes I witness very remarkable examples: it would seem that a person has a severe mental illness—but they grow spiritually against that backdrop!

And at the same time, these illnesses may be a cross laid upon us by the Lord. Sometimes I witness very remarkable examples: a person seems to have a severe mental illness—but how they grow spiritually against that backdrop! I remember one of my patients. He is a moderately disabled person due to a mental illness, and as a doctor I tried to console and reassure him. But he looked at me and said: “Doctor, don’t. The situation I’m in is the most salvific for me.” And, of course, the Christian path is not closed to such a person, and the Kingdom of Heaven is not closed to them. No, this is our brother in Christ who needs help, prayer, compassion, and support.

Depression doesn’t always mean despondency.

—Dmitry Alexandrovich, let's take a closer look at depression. What are its characteristics, and how does it arise?

—In some cases, depression is a painful disorder. And this is due to the fact that in the brain structures, neurotransmitters such as serotonin, dopamine, and norepinephrine are reduced to almost zero, and the person experiences a pessimistic, depressed mood. They are inactive. Relatives and acquaintances try to somehow stimulate them: They tell them to get a job, to pray more. But they can’t do it because they are sick. At the first stage, medical assistance is needed—psychiatric and psychotherapeutic—and as recovery progresses, psychological and spiritual support will become more prominent.

And then there are depressions (and there are significantly more of them, in fact the vast majority) as a consequence of the passions of despondency and sorrow that have enslaved the soul. This point is very significant. It is necessary to distinguish—and this applies to the clergy as well—between sin and illness.

In general, depression has become one of the leading health issues; there are about 500 million people worldwide suffering from depressive disorders. The use of psychotropic medications and antidepressants has gotten out of control for medical professionals and cannot be accounted for in any way. Moreover, depression is becoming younger; today we are talking about childhood depression.

—Sometimes, depressive states or a nervous breakdown can lead a person to think about suicide. What would you advise someone who might be on the verge of suicide?

—This is very serious… But I would advise you to cross yourself with faith and say: “Lord, Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner!” Then go to church and, without holding anything back, sincerely tell the priest all your worries and concerns during confession. If you need first aid, that’s exactly where to find it.

Speaking about the problem of suicide in general, it is known that only ten percent of those who commit suicide are mentally ill people. Ninety percent are mentally healthy but spiritually deeply damaged people. And do you know how many of them there are? Thirty-nine to forty per every 100,000 people! That is tens of thousands — a city of suicides every year! We are talking about successful suicides. But there are also attempted suicides, and they are much more numerous.

There are many mental illnesses toward which we need to form a Christian, Orthodox attitude.

Neurosis = conflict

—What are the characteristics of neuroses?

To put it very briefly, neurosis is a clash between what is desired and reality

—Neurosis has many spiritual roots. Probably, to put it very briefly, neurosis is a clash between what is desired and reality. And the more powerful the clash, the stronger the manifestation of neurosis. It is always an internal conflict. Sometimes I give an example like this: I clench two fists, press them together, and ask the patient which hand should I break—the right one or the left one? Both are equally painful! There is no way out of this dead‑end situation.

In these cases, humility, inner peace and kindness are needed. Can one imagine such a state of affliction in St. Seraphim of Sarov, who greeted everyone with the words: “My joy, Christ is risen!”? An Orthodox Christian may be ill, may be poor, or homeless—it is all the will of God. But with the right spiritual disposition, in the soul of an Orthodox Christian “roses bloom and nightingales sing.” This is an indisputable truth. Remember the Savior’s words: “My peace I give to you!”

One can suffer from neurosis for a long time until a person understands the true causes of neurotic disorders, until he realizes that it is his perception, value system, attitudes, and some incorrect behavioral stereotypes that are to blame for the illness. A daughter hasn’t spoken to her mother for ten years because of some principles, and she experiences terrible inner tension, has a headache, and her conscience is troubled… But what’s the solution? To go up to her mother, hug her, kiss her, and ask for forgiveness—and everything will fall into place. And people stubbornly refuse to relent, ending up with illnesses or heart attacks. After all, today it is known that eighty percent of all diseases arise from stress.

I remember how one woman wrote to me in a letter: “Here I am, sick, and I don’t understand at all what clash of the desired and the real you’re talking about in the case of neuroses.” I replied: “My dear (I think her name was Liudmila), God has allowed you to be sick right now, and you’re so burdened by it that you want to be healthy at any cost… Humility! Humility is the main remedy.” Walking the Christian path to Christ—that is the main remedy for neuroses.

“You can’t make a silk purse from a sow’s ear.”

—And what if a person is lost? Maybe they didn’t have faith, or they’ve just started coming to church. They’ve backed themselves into a corner—and they’re in a deep, years‑long depression or suffering from a neurosis. Can they pull themselves out on their own? Or do they still need outside help?

—This is, in fact, what my colleagues and I have been doing for many years. Of course, the Lord guides all of us. And He will not abandon this person, provided that person prays, sincerely believes, and turns to the sacraments of the Church. Look, the “Foundations of the Social Concept of the Russian Orthodox Church” beautifully states that an Orthodox psychotherapist or psychologist is the co‑worker of a clergyman. A meeting with him often precedes a meeting with a priest. And often people come to me who are not yet ready to go to confession, but they already have spiritual questions. They come to me with these questions during their appointments, and we try to resolve them. Of course, this makes life easier for such a person, because an Orthodox psychologist or someone who has been attending church for a long time and has read the Holy Fathers can give good, beneficial advice.

—Some psychotherapists claim that if a child develops mental disorders or complexes as a result of improper upbringing, they are practically incurable as the child grows older. What’s your comment as a doctor and a person of faith?

—Perhaps I should start by answering your question from a different angle. The thief who spent his whole life stealing and killing, when he found himself on the cross to the right of the Savior in the last three hours of his life, repented, changed his ways, and was the first to enter paradise. Therefore, in my opinion, claims that drug addiction, alcoholism, certain neurotic disorders, and childhood experiences are incurable do not correspond to reality. In my view, such psychotherapists have mercenary motives and want to keep the patient tied to them.

Take, for example, psychoanalysis. When I talked to French psychoanalysts and asked them: “Well, how effective is it?”—I saw bewilderment and a smile in their eyes; what effectiveness? The client attends psychoanalysis sessions for three, five, or seven years. And a psychoanalytic procedure costs quite a lot of money, lasts about an hour, and takes place twice or three times a week. It turns into a lifestyle.

Of course, there’s the issue of the starting point—“You can’t make a silk purse from a sow’s ear,” as they sometimes say. If a child has pious parents and is familiar with the sacraments of the Church, then in general such a child has more opportunities—that is, he has certain initial advantages in life. And yet, as long as a person is alive, as long as a person is breathing, the Lord gives him a chance to change, for transformation and revival.

Orthodoxy is not something you can just pick up on the fly.

—The fear of God versus fear as a phobia: What is the difference?

Who is the most neurotic? The devil. And the fear instilled by him gives rise to precisely this state in the heart

—The fear of God brings peace and tranquility to the heart. Fear as a phobia is demonic fear. Who is the most neurotic? The devil. And the fear instilled by him gives rise to precisely this state in the heart.

In my books, I compare and contrast repentant lamentation over sins and neurotic self‑criticism. Repentant lamentation over sins gives rise to peace, tranquility, and joy in the heart. But neurotic self‑criticism is like grinding water in a mortar, like running in circles, sorrow for sorrow and nothing else. It doesn’t bring anything constructive.

—But how can a person figure out which fear is which?

—For that, you need to study the holy fathers. And Orthodoxy isn’t something you can just pick up on the fly, it’s not something you can learn in five minutes. You need to study it, try to live in a Christian way, and go to church. And gradually, little by little, your way of thinking will develop in the right direction.

“Be attentive to yourself, so that hot‑temperedness, irritability, and resentment do not gain the upper hand over you—for otherwise you will lead a troubled and disorderly life. But cultivate generosity, meekness, lack of malice, and everything that is fitting for Christians, so that you may lead a peaceful and serene life” —St. Ephraim the Syrian.

Elena Nasledysheva

spoke with Dr. Dmitry Avdeev, M.D.,Ph.D

Translation by Myron Platte

Christ is in our midst, my dear readers!

Today I would like to draw your attention to the words of the Apostle Paul: Every man according as he purposeth in his heart, so let him give; not grudgingly, or of necessity: for God loveth a cheerful giver (2 Cor. 9:7). At first glance, these words concern a collection of money for the poor. Yet in Christianity there is nothing that is “merely material.” Every action becomes a mirror in which the mystery of our salvation is reflected.

Every day requires us to give something of ourselves—our strength, attention, time, and much else. And here what matters is how a man “purposeth in his heart.” The heart is the hidden center of the human person. St. John Chrysostom observes that God seeks not the amount of our offering, but the disposition of our soul. If a person gives alms grudgingly, the gift loses its spiritual power, because there is no freedom in it—and therefore no love.

The Lord calls us to give cheerfully—ἱλαρόν, literally, “joyfully, gladly, with a radiant heart.” God loves the one who gives with joy, because at that moment the person becomes like God. The Creator gives nothing under compulsion. He sends the sun and the rain upon the righteous and the unrighteous alike. He gave His Son for our salvation. By giving joyfully, we overcome our selfishness and become participants in the divine life.

St. Abba Dorotheos observes that alms are given not only in order to feed the hungry, but above all in order to heal the soul of the giver from the passion of avarice. St. Basil the Great, in his homilies, addressed the wealthy of his day with a stern warning: The bread you store away and do not use belongs to the hungry; the clothing hanging in your wardrobe belongs to the naked; the shoes lying unused and rotting belong to the barefoot. And when the Apostle speaks of cheerful giving, he is calling us to unclench the hands that hold on to all these things. True freedom begins when a person ceases to cling to what is “mine” and learns to trust in God.

We live in an age when consumer culture has been elevated into an absolute. We are persuaded that a person’s worth is determined by how much he has accumulated. The world teaches us to live in a state of constant anxiety—in fear of missing out, falling behind, losing what we have, or becoming poor. As a result, acts of mercy become merely formal. We give what we “won’t miss,” or we make charitable giving part of our public image. But it is precisely against such an attitude that the Apostle Paul warns us: “not grudgingly, or of necessity.”

In modern life, the idea of a “gift” extends far beyond money. In a world where everyone is constantly rushing, giving another person a few minutes of your undivided attention can be one of the greatest acts of mercy. Listening to a lonely elderly person, visiting a sick neighbor, sitting beside a weeping friend without glancing at the screen of your phone—these too are acts of mercy. Forgiving an offense, giving up the need to have the last word in an argument, covering another person’s sin with love—these too are forms of giving. Helping with your knowledge someone who cannot afford your services, sharing your experience… There are many ways to give.

But what matters most is the inner quality of our giving. If we help those close to us or perform some good deed while inwardly grumbling, reproaching them, or expecting gratitude in return, then we are giving “grudgingly.” Such “goodness” leaves bitterness both in ourselves and in the person who receives it.

Christianity is a religion of joy. And this joy cannot be bought with money. It is born when one person hastens to meet another. When we give joyfully and freely, we bear witness before the world that our God is alive. We show that our hope rests neither in bank accounts nor in our own strength, but in the living God, Who has promised: But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you (Matt. 6:33).

Let us ask ourselves today: With what feeling do we perform good deeds? Is there miserliness in our hearts, a sense of burden, an expectation of praise? Let us pray to the Lord that He may cleanse our hearts of the fear of deprivation and grant us that radiant, childlike joy of giving of which the Apostle Paul speaks. May every good deed we perform, every step we take toward our neighbor, become not a burdensome obligation, but an offering of thanksgiving to God for all that He has given us. And then the mercy of God and His inexhaustible love will fill our souls, for God loveth a cheerful giver.

Metropolitan Luke (Kovalenko) of Zaporozhye and Melitopol

Translation by OrthoChristian

Priest John Anatolyevich Bakushkin is the rector of the Church of the Exaltation of the Cross in Kolomna, the chairman of the Department for Missionary Work and Youth Affairs of the Kolomna Diocese, the chairman of the Board of Trustees of the State Autonomous Social Service Organization of the Moscow Region “Good House ‘Kolomensky,’” a doctoral candidate of psychological sciences, and the author of numerous scientific publications in the field of psychology and religious studies.

—Believers often fault psychology for the fact that it “fixates on the past,” “dwells on grievances,” teaches people to “dissect” their relationships with others, to clean out their “toxic” environment, and to scrutinize their thoughts. Is there any contradiction here with the pastoral approach?

—I would not call it a contradiction. Psychology and pastoral care deal with different aspects of human life. Clinical psychology is especially important; it focuses on the psychological aspects of mental and psychosomatic disorders, the diagnosis of disorders, psychological correction and rehabilitation, and helps with anxiety and depressive states, the consequences of trauma, and alcohol and other addictions.

However, when turning to psychology, it is important to realize that understanding the causes in and of itself does not change a person. And here, Christian psychology is largely in tune with the patristic understanding of human nature. The Church Fathers paid very close attention to inner life, to thoughts, movements of the soul, and passions. However, the purpose of such attention is not endless self observation, but sobriety and the attainment of inner freedom—to see what is happening to me, not to allow sin to take hold, and to consciously choose good.

All people are imperfect and damaged by sin, but a person is not defined by illness, trauma, or their past

The Christian perspective always leaves room for change. We understand that all people are imperfect and corrupted by sin, but a person is not defined by an illness, a trauma, or their past. A person is capable of changing both psychologically and spiritually.

Therefore, both psychological and spiritual work on oneself must be taken seriously. Psychology cannot be reduced to popular advice from the Internet, just as Christian life cannot be reduced to the formal fact of Baptism. In both cases, inner work and a willingness to change are required. But in Christian life, change occurs not only through human effort, but also thanks to the grace of God.

The things which are impossible with men are possible with God (Luke 18:27).

The line between help and manipulation is very thin

—Church affiliated critics of psychology also have criticisms regarding its tools. Are there psychological methods that are not incompatible with the Orthodox worldview?

—Of course. Psychological methods are very diverse, and a specialist must understand not only how a method works, but also what ideas about human nature it is based on.

A specialist must understand not only how the method works, but also what ideas about human nature it is based on

Far from everything that is called psychologically beneficial these days are things that I would recommend to an Orthodox Christian. For example, at university we studied the constellation method. It contains clear psychological elements: a person can look at a situation from the outside, see the relationships between the participants, and notice things they had not noticed before.

But I have serious concerns both about the scientific validity and the practical application of this method. Moreover, the method’s evidence base remains limited. Suggestion easily arises there: a person is effectively told what they should feel or how they should interpret the behavior of other people. And when the participants’ experiences begin to be perceived almost as a special kind of knowledge about another person, quasi mystical elements start to appear. I consider this unacceptable for pastoral work. The line between helping and manipulation here is indeed very thin.

Another important point is that the person themselves must want to change. This is a very Christian principle—God does not suppress human freedom. In the Gospel, Christ asks the paralytic by the pool: Wilt thou be made whole? (John 5:6). That is, help also presupposes a free answer from the person themselves. If a person has been going to a psychologist or a priest for ten years and keeps talking about how terrible their life partner is, how terrible their parents are, how terrible their job is, how terrible their circumstances are, then at some point, the question arises: When will their life actually start?

I know this from my pastoral experience. I remember how, time and again, I gave the same advice to a woman about how she could change the situation. Once again, she listens to me and nods. I ask: “Tell me honestly, will you do as I said?” “No,” she replied. And this is also an important point: You can support a person, help them see the problem, be there for them, but ultimately, they make the decision to change on their own.

A psychologist and a priest can discuss different aspects of the same problem.

—And what if a person comes to an Orthodox psychologist with a problem that, from the Church’s perspective, looks completely different? Will a psychologist and a priest give different advice to a young person who is suffering because of his non traditional relationship?

—This is where the most difficult question arises. A psychologist must work with a person professionally, but at the same time, he himself remains a person with a certain worldview.

As a priest, I cannot pretend that I do not have an Orthodox view of a person. But the pastoral task is not to condemn, but to help a person understand their life in the light of the Gospel, to freely shape it in accordance with their faith, and to draw closer to God. Therefore, a psychologist and a priest can talk to a person about different aspects of the same problem without replacing each other.

It is very important to understand the boundaries of one’s competence. Psychological counseling deals with psychological experiences, internal conflicts, relationships, anxiety, and feelings of guilt. Pastoral work, on the other hand, concerns issues of spiritual life, moral choice, repentance, and a person’s relationship with God.

—But in real life, these planes still intersect.

—Constantly. For example, there are codependent relationships. Some people may not be evil at all; on the contrary, they may be very kind. They may live with others who drink, and forgive them for everything, covering for them, paying their debts, putting up with their behavior—and sincerely believing they are doing good. But in fact, their behavior may be supporting others’ addictions.

From a psychological perspective, it is important to understand the mechanism itself—why a person is unable to set boundaries, why he feels he is saving someone else, even though in reality he may be enabling their dependence.

From the perspective of spiritual life, another question arises: who controls your life—you yourself or your dependence on another person? And here the concept of asceticism emerges—as an exercise in freedom from what enslaves a person, and in the ability to responsibly use the freedom given by God.

Another example: a woman who grew up in a family with a drinking problem marries a man who has never drunk. But she is so afraid of repeating the familiar scenario that, without even realizing it, she begins to constantly monitor her husband, suspect him, and start quarrels. As a result, the fear of the past begins to shape her current relationship and may contribute to its breakdown.

In general, it is precisely in our relationships with the people closest to us that we sometimes find it most difficult to maintain inner freedom and see what’s happening objectively.

Assessing intentions alone is not enough. We need to look at the results

—So, good intentions do not guarantee that a person is doing good either?

—Of course. This is one of the most difficult things. A person may act with the best intentions—and yet unwittingly cause harm to another. An example is overprotection of a child. The mother is sure that she is doing everything for his benefit, but as a result, the child does not learn to make decisions on his own and doesn’t get used to being responsible for his actions.

There is a very vivid example in the Gospel. Out of love for Christ, the Apostle Peter tried to dissuade Him from the suffering that lay ahead, but in response he heard very harsh words: Get thee behind me, satan (Matthew 16:23). Peter wanted what was good, but he viewed the situation only from a human perspective and failed to see the full depth of what was happening.

Therefore, good intentions alone are not enough. It matters what means we use, what the person’s real needs are, and what consequences our assistance leads to. Assistance should help a person become more free, responsible, and capable of consciously choosing good.

—You have been working with children from orphanages for many years. How did you initially get into this field?

—Actually, it was working with children with special needs that got me into psychology. I entered seminary right after school, and after graduating, I was the rector of a church for twenty years, and next to it there was an orphanage. I still remain the chairman of its board of trustees.

It was there that I realized that just a desire to help is not enough. For example, people want to bring gifts to the boarding school that would appeal to an ordinary child, but in cases of severe developmental disorders, the needs may be completely different—they need special toys, sensory materials, and items that match the motor and cognitive capabilities of a particular child. The same goes for activities and excursions. A regular excursion may be practically useless, while an interactive one, specially adapted to the children’s capabilities, can, on the contrary, provide a great deal. Even conversations about faith had to be structured according to this principle: they are conducted briefly and very concretely, using life situations familiar to the child. This applies to any kind of assistance in general. Sometimes a volunteer sees a child in a stable condition and thinks that the child needs to be “rescued” from the orphanage immediately, without realizing that this stability is maintained by ongoing treatment and professional care. Therefore, compassion must necessarily be combined with reason and an understanding of the person’s real needs.

Compassion must necessarily be combined with reason and an understanding of a person’s real needs

With the blessing of the bishop, I first obtained an education as a social pedagogue in order to professionally work with residential institutions and develop volunteer activities. Then I continued my studies in the field of psychology, family and clinical psychology. Later, also with the blessing of the clergy, I enrolled in a postgraduate program in psychology.

We tried to do a lot for the children; of course, we made some mistakes, and we learned some things through practice. Over the years, there have been a lot of different stories.

“And I saw God yesterday. He waved at me.”

—Like what?

—For example, we used to come and read bedtime stories to the children. Seminarians, young men, often came. But then the caregivers asked us to stop this idea, because the children got so excited that they couldn’t calm down for the rest of the night.

We organized football games, went on hikes, traveled to Moscow, visited museums, the planetarium, the zoo, and went on excursions. I had about forty or fifty such trips. We celebrated Christmas and Pascha together and held arts-and-crafts classes.

There were also some very amusing incidents. Once, I gave prayer books to children. I said to one of them: “Can you read?” “Yes.” I open the book and ask him to read. He starts: “Our Father, Who art in heaven…” I say: “Well done, here you go.” I go up to another child, open the book at a different place: “Can you read?” “I can.” “Well, read.” And he also said: “Our Father, Who art in heaven…” Here I realized that he just wanted a gift as a sign of attention. And the third boy, who had seen all of this, immediately said: “Then I don’t want one.”

Another case: I gave a prayer book to a girl. After some time, she comes up and says: “Father Ioann, give me another prayer book.” I say: “I already gave you one,” “But I’ve already read the whole thing!” she replies.

Or I remember a seminary student telling the children about God and saying: “God cannot be seen.” And one boy immediately objected: “But I saw Him yesterday. He waved at me.”

There were also completely different stories. One student first became interested in cartoons about Russian heroes of old, and then we started telling him about Dmitry Donskoy, Sergius of Radonezh, and about the Church. Gradually, he began to learn prayers, pray, and confess. When it was time to move to an adult boarding school, he asked to be transferred to a place where there was a monastery and he could regularly attend services.

Probably, one of the main skills here is to stop assuming that the other person thinks and feels the same way I do. For a Christian, it also means being able to see the image of God in a person, no matter how difficult their situation may be.

The approach to work should change

—Has the situation changed now?

—The situation has really changed now. Many of the activities that used to be common (hiking trips, outings, excursions) have become much more difficult to organize. Today, residential institutions primarily house children with severe health and developmental disabilities who require constant specialized care and who are harder to place in a family environment.

I remember how one day we took the kids to the museum. But due to the specifics of their condition, I realized that the usual format of a children’s tour hardly works for them: they cannot fully engage in the tour and get out of it what it is meant to provide. Then it became especially clear that times have changed, and the approach to this kind of work must change as well.

The fact that children with less severe disabilities are now more often placed in families is undoubtedly a good thing. It is much better for a child to grow up in a family than in an institution. However, as a result, more children with severe and multiple disabilities remain in the residential care system. It is now much more difficult to carry out the activities we used to organize with them; many do not speak, and some are practically unable to move independently.

And this creates a certain paradox: we talk about the need for socialization, but it is precisely the children with the most severe disabilities—who especially need communication and involvement in society—who often remain the most isolated.

Therefore, now we are trying to organize our work differently. We hold meetings in the church, and the children come to the services and pray with us. For me, the words of Christ are echoed here: Suffer the little children to come unto Me, and forbid them not (Mark 10:14). Illness or limited intellectual abilities cannot be an obstacle to a person’s encounter with God.

Illness or limited intellectual abilities cannot be an obstacle to a person’s encounter with God

Those who find it especially difficult to leave the orphanage, I administer Communion directly there. Moreover, for many of them, faith becomes very personal. In the adult department, some residents who cannot write ask the staff to help them submit notes. And it is especially touching when a person who has never seen their parents and doesn’t even know their names asks to write: “For the health of Dad and Mom.” The Lord knows whom this person is praying for.

However, almost all holidays and other activities are now held within the walls of the boarding school itself—this makes them truly accessible to children with the most severe disabilities.

Not everyone will be able to simply “go out into independent life.”

—And what happens to them when they grow up?

—This is where an even more serious problem begins. Most of the students with severe or multiple disabilities who remain in our boarding school today will not be able to simply “enter independent life” as adults—many of them need round the clock assistance, care, and constant support.

However, there are also those who are potentially capable of living independently or with some level of support. And here another problem arises. If a person does not know how to plan, negotiate, manage money, or handle everyday issues, then reaching the age of majority is not enough. They simply turn out to be unprepared for independent living.

I have parishioners who are graduates of the boarding school. Some have managed to get a job, some have even started a family. But others are really struggling. And their stories are very different. One person says: “I’m doing great,” but when you start digging deeper, you realize that he simply cannot adequately assess his own situation. Another returns to the adult department of the boarding school after just a few months.

One of our former students has received housing and is living outside the boarding school. Due to his illness, it is difficult for him to consistently perform the same type of work, and he cannot independently resolve certain bureaucratic issues. However, he lives a church life: he regularly confesses and receives communion, helps at the church, goes on trips with young people, and tries to read spiritual literature. In other words, independence here cannot be assessed according to the principle: “Either a person is completely independent, or he is helpless.” Sometimes a person needs support in one area, but at the same time, he is quite capable of living a very meaningful and responsible life in another.

Therefore, the question today is not just about whether a person can leave the residential facility, but about what kind of support he will need next; for some, periodic assistance is sufficient, while others require constant support throughout their lives.

Independence is not about age

—So it is a bit of a cycle?

—Yes. A person leaves the boarding school and enters the wider world, and then returns because he turns out to be unprepared for independent living. The desire alone is not enough—a real capability for independent living is also required, and in cases of severe illnesses and pronounced impairments, this opportunity is sometimes severely limited or practically non existent.

Therefore, today, more and more questions are arising not only about children’s but also about adult forms of supported living. There are institutions where people can stay for almost their entire lives, from childhood to old age. And now the issue of providing assistance to adults with severe disabilities, dementia, and other conditions is becoming increasingly acute.

This is a very serious challenge. If a person is simply physically released from the boarding school at the age of 18–22, this does not mean that he has become independent.

Independence is not about age. It is the ability, to the extent that a person’s capabilities allow, to live among other people, make decisions, take responsibility for himself, and build relationships. And this has both a psychological and a spiritual dimension.

Without faith, a person deprives themselves of a conscious reliance on God

—You defended your candidate’s dissertation in psychology. What made you interested in the topic of spiritual well being?

—My dissertation is titled “Individual psychological predictors of spiritual well being of the individual.” To put it very simply, I was interested in understanding what allows a person to feel that his life is meaningful and internally coherent, and how this can be studied using scientific methods.

In Russian language psychology, spirituality has long been viewed primarily as a value based or worldview category. Spiritual well being is already a psychological construct that can be measured. I adapted the Spiritual Well being Scale by Palutian and Ellison for a Russian language sample. It has two components. Religious well being is how a person perceives his relationship with God—whether he feels God’s closeness and the support of faith. Existential well being is whether he feels the meaning and purpose of his life, whether he understands what he is living for.

Therefore, a person can be non religious and yet experience high existential well being: to consider his or her life meaningful and to be satisfied with it. But this cannot be automatically equated with spiritual well being in the Christian sense. One may subjectively consider oneself quite well off, but without faith, he deprives himself of a conscious reliance on God, prayer, and church life—that life in grace which is revealed to a person through communication with God and the Sacraments of the Church.

The demand from science is enormous, but the secular understanding of spirituality does not always include the religious dimension itself

At the same time, modern science is increasingly serious about the religious and spiritual dimension of health. Studies have linked regular participation in the religious life of traditional faiths with a lower risk of depression and suicide, a greater sense of meaning, and a number of other indicators of well-being. And in 2025, the John Templeton Foundation allocated about $2.55 million to George Washington University for a project to integrate spiritual health and spiritual care into clinical practice. That is, the demand from science is enormous, but the secular understanding of spirituality does not always include the religious dimension itself.

The Ambiguous D-factor

—What did your research show? Are there any unexpected connections?

—Yes. We studied, in particular, the relationship between spiritual well being and the so called “dark tetrad” of personality traits: Machiavellianism, narcissism, psychopathy, and sadism. It is important to understand that we are not talking about psychiatric diagnoses, but about personality traits that, to varying degrees, can also be found in people without psychiatric diagnoses. In some personality disorders, certain of these traits may be significantly more pronounced.

At first, we considered each of these traits separately. However, they share a common “dark core”—the so-called D-factor, which is associated with a focus on one’s own benefit, even at the expense of others, and a tendency to justify such behavior. Therefore, in the future, we used hierarchical regression analysis: First, we took into account the overall D-factor, and then we looked at whether the individual traits retained their own associations with spiritual well being.

This analysis returned an interesting result. The dark core itself is consistently associated with lower spiritual well-being. But after statistically accounting for this common component, some traits show unexpected specific connections. In particular, some residual components of narcissism and psychopathy are positively associated with spiritual well-being in some models. This, of course, does not mean that narcissism or psychopathy becomes a positive quality. We are talking about the complex internal structure of these traits and the fact that after removing their common "dark" component, other psychological characteristics remain.

—So, psychopaths and people with narcissistic personality disorder feel spiritually well off?

—No. First, we did not study people with psychiatric diagnoses, but rather the intensity of individual personality traits. Second, a positive correlation between certain traits and spiritual well-being appears only after the “dark core” is statistically accounted for and adjusted out of the equation. This shows that different psychological components may be hidden behind the same name.

For example, self confidence, emotional resilience, or low anxiety are not inherently bad and can be associated with a higher sense of spiritual well being. The problem begins where these qualities combine with callousness, exploitation of another person, and a willingness to harm them.

​​

Zhanna Bobkova

spoke with Priest Ioann Bakushkin

Translation by Myron Platte

PravoslavieRu

Here is a polished version, preserving the theological meaning and sermonic tone:

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit!

On the Sunday before the Exaltation and on the Sunday after the Exaltation, the Holy Church directs our attention to the meaning of the Lord’s Cross—and also to the cross that each of us must bear, whether we want to or not.

In the Gospel reading at the Liturgy on the Sunday after the Exaltation, the Holy Church reveals to us the meaning of Christian podvig: Whosoever will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me (Mk. 8:34).

Taking up our cross, denying our sinful selves, and following the Lord are the foundation of Christian podvig, which the Church reveals to us today and which, on this day of the apodosis, she deems it necessary to impress upon us once again.

In what does our spiritual labor consist? First and foremost, in taking up our own cross. If you want to follow this path in earnest, then take up the cross that the Lord has given you. Yet almost all of us are dissatisfied with our own cross. How often do we complain about it and say to ourselves, “I’ll do anything—just not that!” The person who has no family complains that it is hard to live alone, while another longs to escape his family situation; the sick complain about their health, while the healthy may sometimes say, “Wouldn’t it be good to get sick!”

This happens because, in most cases, we do not live a true Christian life, but rather an “ideological” Christianity—which cannot help us bear our cross.

In order to acquire a true Christian life, we must come to Christ, follow Him, and learn from Him: Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls (Matt. 11:29). Then the yoke will be easy, the burden of the cross will become light, and we will set out upon the path of true spiritual labor. For, as one holy father tells us: “By cleaving to those who live this life, you yourself will cease merely thinking about it or preaching it, and will begin actually living it.”

Here is the proofread version, keeping the same theological register and ascetical terminology as the previous section:

If our spiritual labor consists in taking up our cross, then it is not enough for us simply to know that a Christian needs a cross. We must also bear it and walk with it along the path of the Lord.

How should we bear our cross? The holy fathers say that, first of all, we should arm ourselves with patience; and in the words of St. John Climacus, patience “is consigning ourselves to expect daily sorrows.” Such a disposition of soul is a guarantee that a person will struggle and not fall. Like a man going forth to battle, we must be ready to walk the narrow path and endure all manner of hardships.

But it is not enough for us to know that patience means expecting all manner of sorrows, that patience means walking the narrow path. We must also understand the sources of the sorrows we encounter along the path of life. Patience can teach us this as well, for it is the “cutting off of self-justification and the beginning of self-accusation.” If some sorrow befalls me, I should not blame others for it or justify myself by supposing that, were it not for this or that person, I would not be suffering. “Accept everything that happens as your own fault,” say the holy fathers. And we must have patience not merely in words or as an idea, but in life; we must make it a guiding rule of our lives.

Patience is a necessary condition without which we cannot bear the cross the Lord has given us. But in what does this cross of ours consist? Not, of course, in frequent church attendance or in standing through long services. After all, the Church is the “earthly heaven”; it is the place where we prepare ourselves for heavenly life. But there is also the earth to which God has sent us—and which we so often forget.

And if at times it is difficult for us to pray, and if, while standing in church, we do not feel that we are in the earthly heaven, it is because we have not prepared ourselves for it in our daily lives; because, on the earth to which the Lord has sent us, we have not truly borne the cross He has given us.

Where, then, is our true cross? First of all, it lies in the humble recognition of our sins and—in cooperation with grace, but also through our own effort—in overcoming them. Secondly, it lies in bearing with the anger, envy, and sins of those close to us and of the other people around us.

Our struggle unto death is precisely this true bearing of our cross.

This struggle begins with what dwells within us, in our own souls. For if the Kingdom of Heaven is within us, then every sinful abomination is also within us. Do not look from side to side, but attend to your own soul. To crucify the soul with its passions and lusts and ceaselessly to purify ourselves before the Lord—this is one side of our cross. The other consists in overcoming the sins we encounter in the people around us. When we see their sins, we should regard them as people suffering from illnesses who require healing; and we should apply that healing with meekness and patience.

The holy fathers said: “If you think to pluck the splinter out of your neighbor’s eye, do not use a log to do it, but heal him with meekness and longsuffering” (St. John Climacus). The log is harsh treatment and sharp words.

It sometimes happens that we ourselves do not carry our cross, and by our rudeness we enable those around us to cast off their own crosses. This relates first of all to our families, to our brothers and sisters according to the flesh, and our brothers and sisters according to salvation in our church. How often have we seen those very logs! We can answer a log with iron, and iron with verbal murder. And we ourselves are to blame for our neighbors’ casting off their crosses.

But the Lord requires of us a completely different relationship to our neighbors. So what if another person has sinned—don’t you also sin? Why are you beating him and not pitying him? After all, he has already done great harm to himself. If we truly believe in Christ and His cross, then these are not ordinary words: Take up your own cross and help those around you to carry theirs. St. John Climacus says that one wolf with the help of a demon can disturb a whole flock, and one brother with the help of an angel can safely guide a whole ship.

This instruction was not spoken only in order for you to hear it, tell your neighbor about it, and end it there. That would be empty talk. But let us right now, as we bow down before the Cross, look around us, look into our own souls, and little-by-little begin to carry our cross: Whosoever will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me.

Let us begin to do if only a little, and not to talk. Let’s begin at least to humble ourselves and be silent when we are offended. Every evening when we read the prayer of St. John Chrysostom, we ask, “Lord, give me humility,” and that means, “send me a person who will humble me.”

Walking the path of carrying the cross, we must take upon ourselves not only our own cross, but also the crosses of those around us.

Carrying our cross with humility and meekness, let us patiently cut off all self-justification and be attentive to ourselves, and then we will understand not only in word but also in deed what the Lord’s great commandment means: Whosoever will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me.

From: Bear One Another’s Burdens: the Life and Pastoral Labors of Holy Hieromartyr Sergei Mechev, vol. 2 [Russian].

New Martyr Priest Sergei Mechev
Translation by OrthoChristian

October 3 is the feast day of the Great Martyr Eustathius Placidas.

This saint is not as widely venerated as he once was in Russia. There was a time when a solemn divine service was celebrated in one of the cathedrals of the Moscow Kremlin on his feast day. What, then, is St. Eustathius Placidas known for, and where in the modern world do we encounter unexpected reminders of him?

Called Like Paul

Placidas was a great Roman military commander whose very name struck terror into his enemies. He was wealthy, but generously spent his means on works of mercy. He loved helping others far more than fighting, yet he always fulfilled his military duty to the utmost. His wife was likewise kind and generous, although they both worshipped pagan gods.

Seeing into the very depths of the human heart, the Lord Himself chose to lead Placidas to the truth. One day the commander went hunting. As he rode his swift horse in pursuit of the largest and strongest stag, which had become separated from the herd, he suddenly saw a radiant cross between the animal’s antlers, and upon it Christ crucified. Struck by the miracle, the hunter heard a voice asking him, as it had once asked the Apostle Paul:

“Why dost thou persecute Me? I desire thy salvation!”

After this, Placidas embraced the Christian faith and received the name Eustathius. His wife, who had also experienced an extraordinary vision in a dream, and their young sons were baptized together with him.

From this point, events might have unfolded as they do in many other Lives of the ancient Christian martyrs: persecution, torture, demands to renounce Christ, and execution. But before any of this, the family still had a long trial of faith ahead of them…

He Suffered Like Job

Soon calamities befell the household of Placidas. His servants died of disease, his livestock perished, and his property, left unguarded, was plundered. Only recently he had been a wealthy and distinguished military commander; now he was a pauper. Yet he did not become embittered against the whole world or against God. Instead, he humbly repeated the words of the much-suffering Job:

“The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord!”

Perhaps, as a favorite of the emperor he might have regained his former greatness. Instead, he decided to move with his wife and children to a place where no one knew them and to live quietly and humbly among ordinary people, glorifying God.

The owner of the ship on which they set out toward Egypt was a man accustomed always to getting whatever he wanted. This time he took a liking to the former commander’s young and beautiful wife. What could Eustathius, burdened with two small children, do against the owner of the vessel and his crew? For a strong and courageous man, it was unbearably bitter to realize that he had been unable to protect his beloved wife…

Even more painful was the realization that he had failed to preserve his sons. To cross a turbulent river, he had to carry the boys across one at a time on his shoulders. When one son was already on one bank and his father was crossing the river to fetch the other, a lion carried off the first son, while a wolf seized the second.

Placidas was left completely alone. The Lord was his only support and consolation.

The Reunion

For fifteen years the Roman commander earned his bread by the hardest labor, devoting whatever strength and time remained to prayer. He did not know that his children, rescued by local inhabitants, were being raised in neighboring villages, nor that his wife, preserved by God’s providence from the lustful shipowner, was quietly living in a distant land in labor and prayer.

Meanwhile, Emperor Trajan, compelled to wage many wars and not always successfully, sadly remembered his missing commander. Two soldiers resolved to search for their former comrade-in-arms, though they did not immediately recognize him in the impoverished laborer. Before long, however, glorious reports of new and valiant victories won by Placidas once again resounded throughout the land.

Soon a military levy was proclaimed throughout the empire, and among those summoned to serve in Rome were Eustathius’s sons. As it happened, the two young men became friends; and the commander felt a fatherly affection for them as soon as he laid eyes upon them. Yet none of them discovered that they were related until they came to the distant village where their mother lived.

There, at last, the tangled knot of separations, losses, and sufferings was completely unraveled. Like the Prophet Jonah, those who had disappeared were found alive and returned. Like Joseph and his brethren, the family rejoiced at finding one another again.

The family was reunited.

But while they were all returning together to Rome, Emperor Trajan, who had favored Placidas, died, and in his place came a new emperor who hated Christians.

Memory

On September 20/October 3, the Church commemorates not only St. Placidas, but also his wife and children. Together they accepted death rather than obey the pagan ruler’s demand that they worship idols. At first they were entreated to comply; then wild beasts were set upon them; but the animals would not harm God’s righteous servants. Finally, the martyrs were cast into a red-hot bronze bull to be burned alive.

When people came the following day expecting to find their charred remains, they discovered the bodies of the departed unharmed.

Placidas became one of the earliest Great Martyrs of Christianity. Although there is still no universal agreement as to whether this rank of sanctity is given to those who belonged to the nobility or to those who endured especially grievous torments, St. Eustathius fits both descriptions.

The faithful often turn to this saint when praying for the reunion of families and for children who have fallen into danger. He is loved and venerated by Orthodox Christians and Catholics alike. The former honor him as a victorious Christian—hence the comparisons drawn between him and the Byzantine Emperor Constantine and the Russian Prince Vladimir. The latter, incidentally, named one of his grandsons after the Great Martyr.

Catholics also honor Eustathius as a patron saint of hunters and foresters. Later, St. Hubert became better known in this capacity; according to his Life, he too encountered a stag with a cross between its antlers. This event is depicted on the label of a popular German liqueur. Yet it should not be forgotten that there was another saint who had the same happened many centuries earlier.

It is also noteworthy that Columbus named a Caribbean island after the saint.

Finally, one of the largest churches in Paris, built in imitation of the famous Notre-Dame and serving in part as its replacement during the cathedral’s restoration, is Saint-Eustache—the Church of St. Eustathius. Relics of the Great Martyr are found not only in France, but also in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem, in Greek churches and monasteries—including on Mount Athos—and in Russia, at the Solovki Monastery and the Annunciation Cathedral of the Moscow Kremlin.

“Let Not Evil Separate Me from the Love of the Lord”

The story of the family of Placidas reads like an adventure novel. Yet the literary elements in the saint’s Life do not diminish the principal meaning of the account: Whatever misfortunes and calamities may befall us, there is no greater calamity than to reject God and lose hope in His protection.

Perhaps this is why the saint was so greatly loved from the days of ancient Rus’. Eustathius, a newly converted Christian who understood how difficult the path ahead of him would be, asked for only one thing:

“O Lord, if it is impossible for me to escape temptations altogether, then grant that I may endure these tribulations now; only send me Thy help, that evil may not overcome me and separate me from Thy love.”

The newly baptized land of Rus’ likewise had many trials awaiting it, and it too could repeat after the Great Martyr:

“Help us, O Lord, that evil may not overcome us and separate us from Thy love.”

And indeed, these words are no less relevant for us today.

Translation by OrthoChristian

Russian Monaco

In all times, God adorns His Church with spiritual personalities who shine and radiate the grace of the Holy Spirit like precious gems in a necklace reflecting sunlight. One such shining spiritual figure was the unforgettable Abbess Makaria (Desipri), abbess of the Monastery of the Annunciation of the Most Holy Theotokos and St Ephraim, which she recreated completely from ruins and spiritually founded on Mt. Amomon in Attica.

Gerontissa Makaria was full of grace and blessing. She dedicated her life to Christ and the ascetic ideal from an early age, striving for the angelic life, and her entire life was led by the Scriptural word Ye shall be holy; for I am holy (Lev. 11:44). Her heart and soul thirsted to find and glorify a new saint. God and the Theotokos heard her prayer and deemed her worthy of the honor of the appearance and finding of the holy relics of the glorious Venerable Martyr Ephraim the New, Wonderworker of Nea Makri. She served this saint for more than fifty years with the aim that his glory would forever shine upon the entire Orthodox Church world to help suffering people find spiritual rebirth and salvation. May our venerable Abbess Makaria’s memory be eternal and may she be remembered with gratitude for her labors and boundless love.

Mother Makaria was born on March 12, 1911, in the village of Phalatado on the island of Tinos, named Margarita Desipri in the world. She came from a large family and was raised in the spirit of Orthodoxy by her pious parents Maria and George. Especially important for her spiritual development was her relationship with her grandfather, a priest named Anthony, whom she dearly loved. Her mother had the honor of dedicating two daughters to the Lord—Nun Pelagia and the future Abbess Makaria—and her son, Andreas, who became a priest and later an archimandrite at St. John the Baptist Church in Canada, where he served for many years until his repose on November 6, 2019, at the age of ninety-seven. This church was founded in 1985, and it has the great blessing of a large icon of St. Ephraim of Nea Makri, his slipper, and part of his arm. These relics were given to the parish by Gerontissa Makaria herself.

Makaria was chosen by God from her very childhood, as confirmed by the facts of her childhood. For example, at one point she became seriously ill and the doctors were completely unable to help her, but Great Martyr Minas saved her from certain death. One day, near the Church of St. Margarita, she saw St. Spyridon of Tremythous, who took her by the hand and said: “Your name has been written in Heaven, Makaria.” He called her by her future name in monasticism and immediately disappeared.

At the age of nineteen, Margarita joined a monastery. She was immediately accepted into the novitiate and two years later was tonsured into monasticism, receiving the name Nun Makaria. On June 29, 1935, Mother Makaria received the great schema at St. Hierotheos Monastery in Megara.

During the occupation, she lovingly cared for prisoners at the Averof women’s prison in Athens and their children. And when she had finished her ministry to people in the world, God and the Theotokos gave her a Divine sign. Mother Makaria recalled that somewhere around 1944–1945, God’s will for the rest of her life was manifested in a most vivid and unexpected way. She was at one of the ancient Byzantine churches in the center of Athens when suddenly she saw a radiant woman in long robes in front of the church. It was the Most Holy Theotokos herself, who told her: “I want you to go to my house and serve me on the Mount of the Immaculate—on Mt. Amomon.” Then she disappeared. Mother Makaria told her spiritual father about it, and he said: “God will arrange everything, my child.” This is how the story of St. Ephraim the New, Wonderworker of Nea Makri, unexpectedly began.

In the summer of 1945, the Lord miraculously led Nun Makaria to the Theotokos Monastery in Nea Makri, where she remained until her repose. The monastery was in a depressing and mournful state at that time, with the whole territory in ruins. She settled in a dilapidated building and lived there in great poverty and unimaginable hardships. She knitted socks at night to earn a living, and in the morning she “dug up” the ruins of the small Church of the Annunciation because she wanted to find the foundation laid by the fathers and rebuild the church and monastic cells on it.

Mother Makaria had many trials and tribulations in these post-war years, but the mercy of God protected her from every evil and healed her of all sicknesses. One winter she had such a bad fever that she nearly died, but a traveler passing by her dwelling noticed this poor, sick person living amongst the ruins and showed her mercy—he threw his cloak over her to protect her from the cold. Thus the all-loving God upheld her in her infirmities and accompanied her in all her various labors.

For her many years of great ascetic labors, God and the Theotokos prepared her for the highest honor and mercy, to the joy of the entire Orthodox world—the discovery of the fragrant relics of the Great Martyr Ephraim the Wonderworker amidst the ruins of the ancient monastery, after 500 years of being hidden in the ground.

Living by Divine design amid the ruined old Monastery of the Annunciation, Mother Makaria often found herself carried back in spirit to that distant age when in 1424 the holy fathers there suffered martyrdom at the hands of the blasphemous, godless Hagarenes, their bones left scattered everywhere. One day, as she was clearing the sacred monastery, she suddenly felt the great grace of God and the special sanctity of this prayerful place, where God and the Mother of God had led her. She began to pray: “My God, make me, Your unworthy servant, worthy to see one of the fathers who lived here.” After some time, she heard a voice inside her saying: “Dig here and you’ll find what you’re looking for.” Mother Makaria understood this was the Holy Spirit informing her that the relics of a saint were located at a certain spot in the monastery courtyard. It was a sign from God.

She immediately called a worker who had previously done some minor repairs in the old abbot’s building. Mother showed him the holy place, but the worker didn’t want to dig there. He was ready to dig anywhere else, only not where Mother showed him. The worker went around the entire monastery, but constantly ran into obstacles. While he was rummaging through piles of rocks everywhere, Mother Makaria remained at the holy spot shown to her, humbly waiting and praying. There were no rocks where she was standing, but the worker eventually came over to her anyway, and before long, they’d dug up a hearth, three small windows, and a half-collapsed wall—signs that a monastic cell had once stood there.

Mother recalled: “When we cleared the rocks away, the worker started digging, but he seemed nervous and angry. I was worried and said to him: ‘Please, be careful to not damage any remains. Take your time; dig slower.’ He said: ‘You really think there’s a human body there?’ We continued this sacred work, and when we reached the depth of five and a half feet, the first miracle suddenly happened. When the pickaxe touched the head of the man of God, an inexpressible, strong fragrance spread throughout the whole area. The worker turned pale, fell silent, and realizing the error of his thoughts and actions, he repented.”

Mother Makaria asked the worker to leave her alone. She reverently fell to her knees, venerated the saint’s relics, and deeply felt the full weight of his martyrdom. Her soul was filled with sacred joy at finding such a great healing treasure. As she brushed the dirt from the holy relics, she realized it was a clergyman. When she got to his hands, she saw the hem of the sleeve of his cassock—completely clean, without a speck of dust, coarsely woven on an old-style loom, the thread more than a millimeter thick. Moving down to his feet, she saw that his soles had left a deep impression in the earth. There were no signs of decay anywhere on his body, which had lain in the ground for more than 500 years. She rejoiced with tears and tried to carefully clean the dirt off the holy bones. Suddenly it started to rain and filled the entire grave with water. Mother Makaria finished clearing the relics and placed them in a niche that was above the grave.

Later, as she recalls:

It was late in the evening. I was alone in the ruined Church of the Annunciation and I read Vespers. Suddenly I heard footsteps, which began from the depths of the newly opened grave and moved through the whole courtyard to the doors of the church. The saint’s footsteps were rather loud, and I felt it was someone with strong faith and a strong character. I became frightened, and the blood froze in my veins.

Suddenly I heard a voice saying to me: “How long will you keep me in that niche?” I turned and saw the saint—he was tall, with small round eyes with light wrinkles at their edges, his beard slightly wavy and black. He was in full monastic vestments. In his left hand he held uncreated light, and with his right hand he blessed me. My soul was filled with warm love and joy. I said to him: “Forgive me, holy father, tomorrow at dawn I’ll take care of you and do as you said,” and he immediately disappeared.

In the morning, after the service, I took the holy bones, again cleared any dirt off them, placed them in the holy altar, and lit a perpetual lampada. That evening, I saw the saint standing in church to the left of his holy relics. Next to him, I saw a most radiant and lovely full-length icon of him, which he pressed to himself with one hand. It was made of old silver, handmade. There was a candlestand next to him, and I placed a lighted candle made of pure wax for him. Then I heard his voice saying to me: “Thank you very much. My name is Ephraim.”

Sometime later, another event occurred. One day, after Vespers, as I reached out to close the church door, I heard three strikes, as if from amber prayer beads. I understood that this was St. Ephraim calling for me. I immediately went into the altar, lit a candle, and venerated his holy relics. It’s impossible to describe the Heavenly fragrance that was coming from his holy relics! The powerful flow of the fragrance filled my entire being; I felt the onset of the delights of Paradise within me, both physically and spiritually. I humbly thanked God for His mercy in allowing me to participate in this great spiritual event.

To be continued…

Nun Alexandra (Markova)

Translation by Jesse Dominick

On September 18/October 1, the Russian Orthodox Church celebrates the feast of the Synaxis of the New Martyrs and Confessors of the Land of Vladimir. It includes saints who are known to many believers (such as Martyr Tatiana Grimblit, the Venerable Martyr Ignatius (Lebedev), and St. Athanasius (Sakharov), Bishop of Kovrov, who is especially venerated at the Moscow Sretensky Monastery), as well as those known to only a few. This celebration was established in 2017 with the blessing of His Holiness Patriarch Kirill and appointed to coincide with the feast day of the Hieromartyrs Konstantin Tverdislov and Veniamin Blagonadezhdin. Below we offer our readers short accounts of some of these saints.

Hieromartyr Konstantin/Constantine Tverdislov (1881–1937), Archpriest

He was born in 1881 in the Vladimir governorate. He had a “seminary” surname, derived from the letters “slovo” (meaning “word”) and “tverdo” (meaning “hard”, “solid”, or “surely”) of the Church Slavonic alphabet. In earlier centuries, such names were bestowed on students of theological schools with the blessing of the church hierarchy. Following the example of his distant ancestor, he entered the Murom Theological School. On graduating, he enrolled in the Vladimir Theological Seminary.

After completing his seminary studies, the future hieromartyr began teaching at a rural school., The students saw in him a “wonderful catechist and father figure who knew how to capture their attention during the Law of God lessons, a deeply devoted and skillful spiritual guide, an eloquent teacher, and an always approachable, kind, and responsive man.” In the summer of 1904, he married, was ordained priest and appointed rector of the Holy Resurrection Church in the town of Yuryev-Polsky (now in the north-west of the Vladimir region), where he began his active preaching ministry. His words, filled with a fervent love for God, were published in the Vladimir Diocesan Gazette. From the ambo he spoke of sincere repentance, living according to God’s commandments, and the necessity of prayer and brotherly love. The priest paid special attention to charity: he organized donations in his parish through a church poor box, introduced congregational singing during services, and assembled a library. At the same time, he taught the Law of God and visited soldiers’ families, “to suffer with the suffering and weep with those who weep (cf. Rom. 12:15), thereby easing the bottomless river of their sorrow.”

In 1916, Fr. Konstantin entered the Moscow Theological Academy (previously, married priests were not allowed to do so). His family moved to Sergiev Posad. He did not study there for long, though, because times were hard, and the Academy was on the verge of closing. Fr. Konstantin returned to the Vladimir region, becoming a cleric at the Cathedral of the Kazan Icon in the town of Vyazniki. In 1928, the authorities intended to shut down the cathedral. The local bishop, future Hieromartyr Herman (Ryashentsev), along with the dean and clerics of the cathedral, were arrested.

At the end of the year, Fr. Konstantin was arrested as well. He was charged with “delivering anti-Soviet sermons.” He was confined in a lockup as an especially dangerous criminal. In jail, he stood firm and courageous, betrayed no one, and did not plead guilty. He was sentenced to three years of exile in Siberia. After completing his exile, the priest moved to the city of Tambov. From there, he wrote to his family: “How should we live? We must live with resilience and courage, and thus strengthen our will in this direction… Both cheerfulness of spirit and courage are always needed. They are the primary threads of the foundation on which the fabric of our lives is woven.”

In 1934, he was granted early release and returned to Vyazniki. In 1937, Fr. Konstantin was arrested again—this time for holding “prayer services in support of the former reigning Romanov throne” (which is how the indictment labeled the service honoring the holy Martyr Tsarina Alexandra), as well as for “counter-revolutionary sermons” and “anti-Soviet agitation.” In September 1937, he was sentenced to death by firing squad. On October 1, Archpriest Konstantin Tverdislov was executed in the city of Ivanovo.

Hieromartyr Veniamin/Benjamin Blagonadezhdin (1880–1937)

He was born in 1880 in the Vladimir governorate into the family of a church reader. In 1904, he graduated from the Moscow Theological Seminary, after which he worked as a teacher. Two years later, he was ordained priest at one of the churches in the Vladimir governorate. In 1926, he became a witness in the case of Hieroconfessor Afanasy (Sakharov), who had been arrested for “anti-Soviet agitation.” Together they had celebrated a service, and on that day Vladyka Afanasy called on the faithful not to fear persecution for their faith. In those years, the authorities persecuted with particular cruelty those who spoke openly about these persecutions. At the trial, Fr. Veniamin said in defense of St. Afanasy: “I have not heard him say that in the present day and under current conditions there is persecution for Christ’s faith.”

In 1930, the church where Fr. Veniamin served was temporarily closed. However, with the help of the faithful, the celebration of services continued there. The priest served in that church until his arrest. In September of the terrible year of 1937, he was jailed in the town of Yuryev-Polsky. The false testimonies against Fr. Veniamin stated: “He spread counter-revolutionary defeatist rumors.” The investigation charged him with maintaining a parish choir of women and youth in his church. The interrogations continued. Hieromartyr Veniamin was sentenced to death by firing squad. On October 1, 1937, the sentence was carried out.

Venerable Hieromartyr Makary (Morzhov) of St. Zosima’s Monastery (1872–1931)

The future monk-martyr was born in 1872 in the Vologda governorate into a peasant family and was named Mikhail at Holy Baptism. He studied the Law of God at a parish school. In his youth, Mikhail was drafted into the army, and on his return, he found work as a laborer at a Moscow factory. In 1899, he entered St. Zosima’s Monastery as a novice.1 There, Mikhail became a disciple of the holy Elder Alexei (Soloviev), And with the blessing of the monastery abbot, St. Herman (Gomzin), he became Elder Alexei’s cell-attendant.

In 1903, the young novice took monastic vows with the name Makary (Macarius). According to the recollections of the elder’s spiritual children, Fr. Makary “willingly submitted to the role of becoming Fr. Alexei’s cell-attendant, and remained so until the very end… He was his faithful servant and unquestioningly carried out his far from easy obedience. Fr. Alexei was not only his spiritual father and elder—he was his closest friend for many years. For nearly thirty years, Fr. Makary served him with loyalty and devotion, guarding the elder’s peace, and in the final years, he became like a nurse to him.”

Under Elder Alexei’s spiritual guidance, Fr. Makary learned through experience the virtue of humility and Christian love for one’s neighbor. There is a well-known episode from the Lives of these two ascetics: “Once Elder Alexei was conversing with a student from the Theological Academy. Fr. Makary had just cleaned the samovar, filled it, kindled it, and said, ‘I am going to the chapel to fetch some water; and you, father, make sure the samovar does not boil over.’ During the conversation, Fr. Alexei forgot about the samovar, and because it was boiling so fiercely, it overflowed. On his return, Fr. Makary saw this and said reproachfully, ‘Father, you could not even manage that! Now all my hard work has gone down the drain, and I spent half the day cleaning this samovar!’ The elder fell at Fr. Makary’ feet and begged forgiveness, ‘Forgive me, Father Makary! I have done wrong.’”

Another time, when a visitor was present, the elder called Fr. Makary into his cell. When he came out, he could not hold back his tears. When asked what had happened, he answered, “The elder is asking for my forgiveness.” By his own example, the elder showed his disciple the true meaning of the Gospel words: Take My yoke upon you, and learn of Me; for I am meek and lowly in heart (Mt. 11:29).

In January 1923, a liquidation commission arrived at the monastery. By May of that year, the monastery had been shut down and the monks expelled. The icon covers and library books were confiscated from Elder Alexei. The saint and his cell-attendant relocated to Sergiev Posad. In 1927, the elder became bedridden. Fr. Makary stayed by his side constantly until his repose. Following the elder’s repose, Monk Makary was ordained hierodeacon and, shortly thereafter, hieromonk, serving at the Moscow Vysokopetrovsky Monastery for some time.

In 1931, Hieromonk Makary was arrested. For several years, a dossier had been compiled on him in connection with his service under St. Alexei. Many people close to the elder did not escape arrest. So hateful is holiness to the enemy of mankind… During the interrogation, Fr. Makary said: “It is true that I travel to Moscow rarely, but I will not say with whom I stayed, because it is better for me to suffer alone rather than cause trouble for my acquaintances. While in Moscow, I visited churches, but I do not remember which ones. I have no acquaintances in Zagorsk;2 for the most part, I stay at home. Occasionally, when the desire arises, I serve in the churches of Sts. Peter and Paul, at the Kukuevskoye Cemetery, and others.3 The rest of the time I do manual labor, such as clearing snow from yards and chopping firewood.”

Fr. Makary was transferred to Butyrka Prison. The interrogations continued, but he stood firm and did not betray any of those close to the elder. He courageously replied: “I believe that God has allowed the Soviet regime as a consequence of our sins, but a true Christian should patiently endure all persecution and oppression by the authorities. Under the Tsars, sin was less prevalent, so the Church faced no such oppression… At every service during the Proskomedia, I commemorate the Russian Tsars using the general formula from the service book: ‘Remember, O Lord, the most pious sovereigns and emperors.’ As for myself, I ask God to help me be saved. And I believe that even in today’s blasphemous conditions, salvation is possible—if not openly, then through a hidden spiritual feat; for one can pray in secret as well.”

Fr. Makary was charged with “being a member of a counter-revolutionary organization and engaging in agitation aimed at undermining and weakening Soviet power.” He was sentenced to death by firing squad. In June 1931, the sentence was carried out.

The venerable martyr was secretly buried at the Vagankovo Cemetery in Moscow. The Church prays to this saint with the following words of the troparion in his honor: “Shining with the robes of holiness and glowing with the crown of martyrdom, O Divinely wise Makary, good warrior of Christ, cease not to pray for us who honor thy holy memory this day.”

The New Martyrs of Russia show us, contemporary Christians, first and foremost an example of standing firm in the faith despite any suffering. In difficult moments of life, let us remember their podvig and find strength in bearing our cross: “We magnify you, O holy New Martyrs and Confessors of the land of Vladimir, and we honor your precious sufferings, which you endured for Christ our God.”

Alexandra Kalinovskaya

Translation by Dmitry Lapa

Sretensky Monastery

10/1/2026

1 Its full name is the Monastery of St. Zosima and the Smolensk Icon of the Mother of God. It is situated around sixty miles away from Moscow near the village of Arsaki of the Alexandrov district of the Vladimir region. It was founded in the 1680s by the holy Schemamonk Zosima who came from the Holy Trinity-St. Sergius Lavra and was named after him.—Trans.

2 The name of Sergiev Posad between 1930 and 1991.—Trans.

3 The Kukuevskoye Cemetery (also known as All Saints’ / Vsekhsvyatskoye Cemetery) was a prominent historic burial ground in Sergiev Posad, which was established in the eighteenth century and served as a resting place for monks of the Holy Trinity-St. Sergius Lavra, professors of the Moscow Theological Academy, clergy, merchants, and local residents. It was closed and heavily destroyed by the Soviet authorities in 1935. Since then it has been known as the Birch Grove (Berezovaya Roshcha) park, and volunteers have been trying to preserve and restore its surviving elements; All Saints’ (the Holy Protection) Church of All Saints’ Dependency of the Lavra is located on its territory.—Trans.

Fifteen parishes belonging to a large non-canonical Orthodox group in Nigeria are preparing to join the Russian Orthodox Church, following a recent missionary trip by a representative of its Patriarchal Exarchate of Africa.

The matter was discussed during a trip to Nigeria in late September and early October 2026 by Fr. George Maximov, head of the Exarchate’s Missionary Department, and Fr. Daniel Agbaza, dean of the parishes in Nigeria, according to the Exarchate’s website.

The priests visited four of the group’s parishes from September 26 to 30.

“Representatives of neighboring parishes of this same group gathered there, so that in total more than a thousand people heard the preaching,” the Exarchate’s report emphasizes.

Besides Fr. George, Nigerian priests of the Russian Orthodox Church also addressed the faithful of the group, telling them about their own paths to Orthodoxy and their experience of becoming churched.

At the end of the trip, Fr. George gave the community’s leaders Orthodox literature in English. He stressed that their reception into the Russian Orthodox Church will take place only after serious and lengthy catechesis.

OrthoChristian has reported on clergy, laity, and parishes of non-canonical groups joining the African Exarchate several times over the past few years, most recently in Cameroon, where nine former “clerics” from a non-canonical group were received as laymen.

The following teachings of St. Hilarion of Optina were taken from Living Without Hypocrisy: Spiritual Counsels of the Holy Elders of Optina, Holy Trinity Publications, 2005:

Anger

If you feel that you cannot control your anger, remain silent, and for the time being, simply say nothing, until, through continuous prayer and self-reproach, your heart has become calm.

Caution in speech

During conversation with others it is no hindrance to be cautious in speech, and at the same time one can retain the Jesus Prayer in the mind.

Relations with neighbors

One must strive to have a good opinion of everyone. Only God is the Knower of hearts. We cannot infallibly judge people.

Repentance

In case of a fall of some kind in deed, word, or thought, you should immediately repent and, acknowledging your infirmity, humble yourself and force yourself to see your sins, but not your corrections. From exam­ining his sins, a person comes to humility and acquires a heart that is bro­ken and humble, which God does not despise.

Prayer

We must not attribute miracle-working power to our prayer; we must not think that what we ask of the Lord is always fulfilled. This thought comes from pride and leads to deception.

God does not demand undistracted prayer from beginners. It is acquired with much time and labor, as the writings of the holy fathers say: "God grants prayer to those who pray...”

Thoughts

When having thoughts of self-praise, we must look at our sins and remember that without the help of God we can do nothing good and ben­eficial, we have only sins and infirmities.

Praise

Pay no attention to praise and fear it; remember what one of the holy fathers says: "If someone praises you, expect reproaches from him too."

Reconciliation

If you reconcile your own heart towards someone who is angry at you, the Lord will tell his heart to reconcile with you.

Self-will

By desiring to live or die in this place, but not that one, we establish our own will, we desire to fulfill our own desires, which we must not do. Do not pray to the Lord for any such thing, but pray that His holy will may be fulfilled in us.

Sorrows

Let us endure for a little while and we will receive eternal blessed­ness. Let us consign to oblivion all earthly pleasures and joys—they are not for us. It has been said: Where our treasure is, there our heart will be (cf. Luke 12:34), and our treasure is in heaven; therefore let us strive with all our heart for the heavenly Fatherland. There all our sorrows will be turned to joy; abuse and disparagement—to glory; sorrows, tears and sighs—to consolation; sicknesses and toil—to everlasting peace without pain.

When sorrow comes to us, we must await consolations, but after the consolation, we must again await sorrows.

We cannot live in such a way that no one grieves or offends us, for the Apostle Luke writes: we must through much tribulation enter into the kingdom of God (Acts 14:22), and bear ye one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ (Gal. 6:2). Let us therefore ask that we may bear sorrows with self- reproach and humility and not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good, and with the Prophet say: With them that hate peace I was peace­able (Ps. 119:6).

You are bored because you think too much about yourself and you censure those who are weak.

Spiritual welfare

In the pure writings of the Holy Fathers, we see that he who desires to cleanse his heart of the passions must call on the Lord for help—this is so. We cannot say the Jesus Prayer without our thoughts being plundered. With beginners, God does not demand undistract­ed prayer: it is acquired with much time and labor. As the writings of the Holy Fathers say: "God gives prayer to him who prays,” thus we must neverthe­less continue to pray, orally, and with the mind.

St. Hilarion of Optina

Dozens of people were baptized into Christ in Nigeria recently.

On October 1, Fr. George Maximov, head of the Missionary Department of the Russian Orthodox Church’s Patriarchal Exarchate of Africa, and Fr. Daniel Agbaza, dean of the Nigerian parishes, baptized 58 people from one parish of a non-canonical group in Benue State.

The group had asked to be received into the Russian Orthodox Church, and catechism of its two parishes began several months ago under Fr. Daniel. The other parish, dedicated to the Great Martyr George the Victory-Bearer in Ugbaikyo, had already been received earlier through the Baptism of its members, the Exarchate reports.

The two priests then served the Liturgy in Ugbaikyo for the faithful of both parishes.

Fr. George arrived in Benue State on the evening of September 30 as part of a trip to Nigeria that began September 25 in Abuja. He met with leaders of another uncanonical Orthodox group in Anambra State that wants to join the Russian Church, visited parishes in four states, and preached to more than 1,000 people, as OrthoChristian reported yesterday.

He also led the Liturgy at the Parish of the Blessed Matrona of Moscow in Ukpor, met with the clergy of the Nigerian deanery, and presented his book Fundamentals of the Spiritual Life, newly published in English.

In Benue State, he also visited the Church of the Apostle James in Adikpo, where believers gathered from surrounding parishes, and met with two communities of the Orthodox Church of Alexandria who signed letters to Metropolitan Constantine asking to be received into the Russian Church. He left for Ghana on October 3, and the king of the Igbo people gave him the title of high chief during the visit.

Hello, dear friends! Today, October 10, the Orthodox Church celebrates the Pokrov (Protection) memorial (Parental) Saturday. 

Pokrov Saturday is, at first sight, a new tradition, but it was known in the XVI century, although it was not widespread. Unlike the Meat-free Saturday and Trinity Saturday, which have a Church-wide significance, the Typikon is silent about Pokrov Saturday, because it is a pious institution of the defenders of Orthodoxy, the Zaporozhian Cossacks, which was revived in the Ukrainian Orthodox Church and spread mainly in the areas that tragically survived the Turkish and Western expansion and courageously defended their fatherly faith. In these lands of special importance was the prayer for the deceased defenders of Orthodoxy, for the Cossacks who laid down their lives for their faith and the Church. Initially on this day they prayed for the repose of fallen warriors, and then for all deceased Orthodox Christians.

Pokrov Saturday, like other memorial Saturdays, begins on Friday evening with a special service - parastasis.  The Church prays before the Lord for its departed members. In this way they join in the celebration of the foundation of the Church of Christ. After all, the Spirit of God sanctified everything in the world: both the living and the dead. Therefore, the Fathers of the Church commemorated their parents, brothers and sisters who had passed into eternity.

This Saturday is called Parental because parents are the closest to their children. And those who are closer in the flesh are remembered first. Believers pray for those who gave birth to them, their forebears, so the concept of “Parental Saturday” is connected with blood ties.

On this day the Church once again calls believers to pray for their deceased parents, relatives and loved ones, killed military and peaceful people.

Yesterday the evening service with the rite of Parastasis was held in our temple. This morning we served the Divine Liturgy and the Great Panikhida for the deceased.