Bishop Kir Mikhail of Canada #

Nikifor Zenin

On October 27 at 1:30 in the afternoon, Bishop Kir Mikhail, Old Believer Bishop of Canada, passed away in the hospital at the Rogozhskoye Cemetery.

The ways of God are unsearchable. Something difficult to foresee — or even miraculous, though sorrowful — led Bishop Kir Mikhail to die in the chief center of the Old Believer world. For everyone knows that Kir Mikhail was an outcast not only from the ruling church, where he had once been a prominent professor at the Academy, but even from among the Old Believers themselves, though they stood in desperate need of him as a learned man, deeply faithful to Christ and His Church, and greatly lacking in men of his kind. All the more so was he alien to the people who inhabited Rogozhskoye Cemetery and managed its affairs. There he was shunned not only by the clergy, but also by the laity who held leadership roles in the life of the Belokrinitsa hierarchy. There, quite simply, he was regarded as a heretic, a free-thinker, a man harmful to the religious life of the Old Believers, and in any case, undesirable. He was seen as a man who did not truly belong to the Old Believers, or if he did, then insincerely, hypocritically — or, as they said, with his own hidden motives.

From that same place came persecutions against this man of great endurance, launched through the councils of our devout bishops; from there flew arrows poisoned with venom — arrows that painfully wounded the soul of the righteous one. And now, by the will of Providence, he was led to die precisely there. And precisely there did Providence compel those least willing to do so to care for him in his final days and bury him. God, by His unsearchable paths, incomprehensible to us, granted the deceased the chance, even in his last hours, to prove to those who denied his sincere belonging to the Old Belief that they were grievously mistaken in their understanding of him.

This is truly wondrous! Bishop Kir Mikhail lived as an exile from our community — far from us: at times in Finland, at times in Simbirsk, and then, even driven out by the state itself — abroad. Far, far away! Sometimes in Slavic lands, other times in German ones. He lived, taking refuge with a priest of the ruling church — the very church he had abandoned and condemned as being bound to the state and therefore lacking freedom. In Berlin, with the late Archpriest Maltsev, he long found shelter from the punishment threatened against him by our government. A man whose religious convictions he had undoubtedly offended by converting to the Old Belief, a man in the service of the state, gave him refuge and protected him as if he were a political criminal (albeit a false one), shielding him from lawful punishment. And we — we persecuted him, persecuted him unto a martyr’s death. Yet still he came to die among us. To us, who had crushed him morally and driven him into the hands of savage people who crushed him bodily. He came to us to die — to show that his soul, despite everything, was devoted only to our Holy Church of Christ, which he had sincerely recognized as the true one, to which he had reunited himself, and to which he desired to minister with all his heart and with all his gifts.

I do not know whether our homegrown Pharisees will understand this wondrous event as it ought to be understood — and whether they will repent of their harsh conduct toward this saintly man — but to us it is crystal clear. We now love this holy bishop even more, who, by his very death, visibly proved to us his sincere belonging to the Church of Christ — the Old Believer Church. And we weep bitterly that we were not able, during his lifetime, to wrest from our Pharisees the right for him to guide the people. It is unbearably painful to us… One thing alone consoles us: that even he confessed the principle that “in struggle you shall gain your right” is not our principle — it is not Christian. It is alien to us. We spoke. But we were not understood — and they did not wish to understand. They did not wish to? Well then, God be with them. Let them live as they think best…

This is our only consolation.

The fate of the late Bishop Kir Mikhail is the fate of Chrysostom. That one was holy, impartial, truthful, humble, and without malice — and so was this one. He was persecuted by his own brother bishops — and so was this one. He was condemned as politically dangerous, as a heretic — and so was this one, both by hierarchs and the state. That one ended his earthly journey with a martyr’s death, driven from place to place — and so did this one. That one gave thanks to God for everything — and so did this one.

These hierarchs, by the very nature of their souls, were not made for this world. Of them, one may well say in the poet’s words:

“The Creator from the nobler ether
Formed their living strings.
They are not made for feasting,
And the world was not made for them…”

Yes, indeed — the living strings of their souls were not made for this coarse world. They have no place in a world of cruel struggle for existence. They are incapable of such struggle — and therefore they withdrew from the world.

Let us remind our readers of the life of this righteous man, and they will themselves be convinced that he truly had no place on earth among coarse men, and that his persecutors were grievously in the wrong.

Vladyka Mikhail was an ardent youth. In an age of universal moral decay, of godlessness, unbelief, and estrangement from the Church, he managed to preserve himself from the vices of youth, and with all his soul he loved God, Christ, and His divine teaching — not only in the broad Christian sense, but also as it is expressed by the Church in her dogmas, rites, and customs.

At that time, when all the educational institutions of Russia prided themselves on godlessness, unbelief, and both religious and political anarchism, Vladyka Mikhail, then an archimandrite of the ruling church and a teacher of theological sciences at the Petrograd Theological Academy, followed a completely opposite course — and did so with great success. He preached, spoke publicly, wrote, and debated, attracting humanity to Christianity. He called the youth away from the cold, godless socialism that was then being preached with such fury, and toward a Christian socialism — that is, toward a social order as commanded by Christ. From socialism that forcibly redistributed wealth, he called them to a socialism of goodwill — the free offering to others of what you have, and what they lack.

In order to more effectively spread these appeals, he published nearly a hundred pamphlets under the general heading “Freedom and Christianity,” and these pamphlets were widely distributed. His fervent activity quickly earned him a name — but also drew the attention of dark forces who did not like his enlightened efforts. And these forces began to oppose his endeavors, placing every kind of obstacle in his way.

In his simplicity of heart, he did not understand this at first — but later, when these forces laid their heavy hand upon him, he realized that he was carrying out his work of religious renewal in an environment where such work was impermissible. That is, he came to see that the ruling church — bound by its alliance with the civil state and its interests — could not permit his activity, for that activity ran contrary to the state’s interests. Having understood this, he decided that he must leave that church — to leave and reunite himself with a free Church, and there to exercise his gifts in the renewal of human society through Christian life.

It must be said that in that era of great expectations, he was not alone in his aspirations. Within the clergy of the ruling church, a sizable group of priests arose — known then as the “Renovationists.” This group had great designs for the renewal of Church life. At the same time, a similar movement toward ecclesiastical renewal — on the foundation of the Church’s freedom from the state, on the foundation of true Christianization of church life — was also taking place in Canada (North America) among Christians of the Eastern confession. These Christians, by their religious conscience, could not enter into communion with the Catholic or Anglican churches of Canada, which they regarded as heretical. Nor did they wish to remain under the Russian Synodal Church or its Greek ally, because these had lost their religious freedom through their bond with the civil state — they had, so to speak, sold their spiritual birthright for state protection, and for this “mess of pottage” had become servants to the state.

These Christians — numbering around sixty-three parishes — wished to enter into communion with our Holy Church of Christ: the Church of the Eastern ancient rite, a Church free from alliance with the state. They requested clergy, books, church furnishings, and the formal establishment of their parishes in unity and agreement with the ancient Eastern Church.

It was precisely this kind of aspiration that Kir Mikhail — then still an archimandrite — was pursuing.

This same inclination was shared, generally, by all the so-called “Renovationists.”

Kir Mikhail turned to our bishop, Kir Innokenty of Nizhny Novgorod, with a request to be reunited with the Holy Old Believer Church, and he was received by him into her bosom.

At the time of his reception, Kir Mikhail sincerely noted that, while confessing the Holy Church of Christ in the Old Believer tradition — in all her dogmas, rites, and customs — to be truly Orthodox, he nevertheless believed that, where there is unity in dogma, it is permissible to allow some diversity in rites. He asked that the old rites not be considered strictly obligatory for him personally, and especially not for those others who might follow him into unity with us. In other words, he considered it beneficial to allow some freedom regarding differences in ritual.

I do not know whether Kir Innokenty consulted any of his fellow bishops on this matter or not, but he did allow this freedom. It was expressed by Kir Mikhail in his confession at the time of reunion.

Such tolerance for ritual diversity is entirely permissible. Church history, as well as our everyday ecclesiastical life, proves this to us: our rites and customs even now vary widely across the different regions where the Church is scattered throughout the world. Therefore, there is no harm in this.

Earlier I said that I do not know whether Kir Innokenty consulted any of his fellow bishops on this question — but I do know that he did consult with our well-known apologist F. E. Melnikov and with Archpriest Fr. A. Starkov. And they approved of it, seeing in it a great benefit for the Church of Christ.

And in essence, that is indeed the case.

On such grounds, then, did the late Kir Mikhail enter into communion with the Holy Church.

A straightforward and pure soul, he acted directly and openly.

All of his efforts were directed solely toward doing good for the Holy Church.

When it became known that the Canadian parishes desired to have a priest from our Holy Church, the idea immediately arose: rather than sending only a priest, it would be better to send a bishop to Canada — one who, once there, could ordain fellow servants from among the Canadians themselves, according to their election and in sufficient number. This was, without doubt, a sound idea. And it naturally followed that if someone were to be sent to such an important post, it must be someone truly worthy of it. He had to be a person educated both in secular and theological matters, one able to deal with the local government, to influence the educated class — both by his knowledge and by his piety. Clearly, the only person in our midst fit for this was Archimandrite Mikhail.

That is why Bishop Innokenty — to whom the Canadians’ request had been submitted — decided to send precisely him to Canada, after first consecrating him as a bishop.

Since the matter could not suffer delay — for the success of the endeavor depended entirely on swift action — there was no time to seek conciliar approval for Archimandrite Mikhail’s consecration. Such a process would have taken at least a year. Therefore, Bishop Innokenty resolved, contrary to canonical norms, to consecrate him alone.

To be sure, if we judge according to strict canonical discipline, this act violated Church order. But since all Church canons exist solely to prevent acts committed with malicious intent against the Holy Church, it stands to reason that in this case there was no true offense. For Bishop Innokenty’s intentions were directed solely toward the benefit of the Holy Church, not toward harm. Nor was there any offense on the part of the one receiving consecration, since he sought nothing for himself, but only desired to bring benefit to Christ and to His Holy Church.

Violations of this kind of ecclesiastical discipline can be found by the dozens, if not hundreds, in the history of the Holy Church. And punishment for such violations was not always applied by the Holy Church — on the contrary, they were often approved, precisely because such breaches of disciplinary order resulted in benefit to the Church. The same ought to have been the case here.

Incidentally, it may be added that in the matter of this unilateral consecration, there was another indirect cause, apart from the urgency of the matter. But if this was indeed the case, then it was Bishop Innokenty’s personal transgression (if it was a transgression); Kir Mikhail knew nothing of it — not even up to the time of his death. In fact, this intention of Bishop Innokenty remains known with certainty to only two or three individuals — no more. It was a case of attempting to serve truth by way of untruth. An intention evidently borrowed from the practices of Messrs. Subbotin, the Jesuit Fathers, and other missionaries. It was based on the principle that “the end justifies the means.” As for what that intention consisted of — I do not find it necessary to explain. I think in time others will come to grasp it and perhaps one day put it to use.

I do not presume to condemn such an intention, nor do I praise it. But I believe that the cause of Christ has no need of such methods.

Having received his consecration, Kir Mikhail hastened to depart for Canada.

He did not travel directly to Canada via Germany or France, but first deemed it necessary to visit Constantinople and Greece, in order to better inform himself about the situation in Canada. At the time, there was reportedly a bishop in Canada said to have been sent there by the Greek or Constantinople Synod, who had then been driven out by the faithful as an imposter.

Kir Mikhail had little money, but he was expecting to receive some from the Council of All-Russian Old Believer Congresses, as compensation for a textbook on the Law of God that he was compiling for Old Believer schools. He completed the manuscript while on the road and submitted it to the Council, indicating that the money owed to him should be sent to France — to the city of Le Havre, where he would be boarding a ship to sail for America.

But at that time, certain events occurred in Russia that decided the fate of this journey — in their own way, or more precisely, in our way, in the Russian way. Someone somewhere in high places in Petrograd was reprimanded because the Old Believers had received Archimandrite Mikhail and consecrated him a bishop, and so — it was decided — they were not deserving of encouragement in their pursuit of rights, but rather of every kind of restriction.

These individuals exerted pressure where necessary, and the Council of Congresses did not send Bishop Mikhail the money.

That moment proved fatal in the life of Bishop Mikhail.

Not only was he forced to go hungry in Le Havre and spend his nights in a shelter, but he was compelled to return to Russia.

How he managed to make his way back home from there I do not know precisely, but he did return — and here he was met with a trial by the synod and suspension from priestly service.

Naturally, this could not but affect his state of mind. But more than the suspension from ministry itself, it was the attitude shown to him by the upper echelons of the Old Believer leadership that wounded him.

He acknowledged his guilt — namely, that he had been consecrated unilaterally, without the consent of a council — and he recognized the necessity of submitting to the council’s ruling. But he deeply protested the attacks launched against him, the accusations of heresies he never held, which soon poured down upon him in abundance. He responded to them little in print, but they disturbed his soul deeply — above all because all these charges were clearly biased and openly ignorant.

I remember at one of the councils (apparently in 1909), the late Archbishop personally undertook to accuse him of heresy because of his reflections in the journal Church on the first days of creation, and especially fixated on his views about the age of the earth, its motion around the sun, and similar topics. These attacks were so groundless, so ignorant, and so persistently annoying that, by the end of the council members’ deliberations on the matter, Bishop Mikhail was brought to such a state that he cried out in horror and despair that he simply didn’t know what to say to such senseless accusations. And when some of the more thoughtful members of the council tried to console him and begged him not to take it so much to heart, he exclaimed with a pathos of deep sorrow:

“Something has died within me! I no longer feel alive. Something has broken off. My soul has finished its suffering.”

These were words of such profound grief and noble indignation at the ignorant audacity of men that their meaning can scarcely be conveyed in human language. They can only be felt… They still echo in some hearts, and I cannot forget them. But I believe that few understood them then — and even fewer remember them now.

It goes without saying that the archbishop did not understand him — and simply agreed to appoint a special commission to “search for heresies” in the writings of Bishop Mikhail, to be submitted to the next council.

What sort of commission this was, and how it “searched” for heresies in the works of Bishop Mikhail, was vividly and satirically described by Bishop Innokenty in issue no. 1 of the journal Old Believer Thought (1911), in a piece titled A Session of the Commission on the Case of Bishop Mikhail.

In this biting satire, a bitter truth is expressed: men took it upon themselves to judge what they themselves did not understand. To the credit of the commission — it “disbanded forever,” as the satire says, without issuing any rulings. But the matter did not end there — it continued in the same spirit right up to the sorrowful end of the blessed Bishop Mikhail.

Time passed. Heresies continued to be “discovered” and announced in print. One might say that it was precisely for this purpose that Archbishop Ioann founded the journal Old Believer Pastor — mockingly nicknamed Old Believer Plaster — which was handed over to the leadership of a fierce opponent of Bishop Mikhail, the priest Fr. G. Karabinovich.

Although Fr. Karabinovich’s attacks were long ignored, he nevertheless continued his accusations against Bishop Mikhail with great persistence — a persistence that might have been worthier of a nobler cause — charging him with things the bishop had never even imagined. As a telling example of the nature of these heresy accusations: in the aforementioned journal, a photograph was published of Bishop Mikhail sitting on a garden bench next to a certain Golgotha-Christian named Abramov (from the time when Mikhail was still in the ruling church). According to Fr. Karabinovich, this photograph was supposed to serve as clear proof that Bishop Mikhail was himself a Golgotha-Christian.

Well then — one might ask Fr. Karabinovich:

“In the iconography of the First Ecumenical Council, both the holy fathers and the heretic Arius are depicted together — as well as Eusebius and others. Does that mean the holy fathers were heretics too?!”

Such, then, were the “proofs” used by Bishop Mikhail’s accusers. But they tormented the soul of the one being accused. They weighed upon him with great heaviness.

Councils were convened. Bishop Mikhail was not invited to them, and his case was never scheduled for hearing. This, too, crushed the late hierarch.

And so, little by little, his soul fell ill — and the illness progressed slowly but surely.

His soul thirsted for labor, but people gave him no work to do. His soul thirsted to bring benefit to his fellow man — but to this thirst, they responded with cruel blows to his mind, heart, and very soul.

He had left the ranks of the ruling church, as an environment foreign to the spirit of Christ, and came to us with an open soul — with the same longing to serve what is good and true, to bring whatever benefit he could to the Church of Christ. Yet even here, envious ignorance rose up against him, drove him out from among us, forced him to wander through foreign lands, and compelled him to carry out the work of Christ only in secret — as though doing good to others had to be something imposed on them by force.

These were the blows that caused his neurasthenia, and from that — madness; and from madness — death at the hands of common cart-drivers, those children of the people to whom he had dedicated all his talents and joys in life. For all the sacrifices he had voluntarily made for the good of the people, his reward was broken ribs and collarbone, a chill, and suffering in the hospital.

He was driven out by the state, by the hierarchy of the ruling church, and by the hierarchy of our own Church. He was maimed by the common folk, and the educated doctor at the hospital — through his negligence — finished him off. In a word: man, in all his forms — noble and base, enlightened and ignorant — repaid him in the way man always repays great men.

His whole life was a heavy cross-bearing, and his death — a kind of Golgotha.

But the will of Providence is still merciful: having sent him great trials in life, it showed mercy in the end — granting him blessed repose among the pastors of the Church he had longed to serve. And I believe that now his soul stands before the throne of the Most High — purified, radiant, at peace with all — and prays to the Almighty to forgive his persecutors and to heal their darkened souls with the light of Christ’s truth.

May his memory be eternal, and his rest blessed!

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