A Short History of the Ancient Old-Ritualist Church. F.E. Melnikov #

Part 1 #

Patriarch Nikon #

The chief culprit of the Church schism in Russia was the Moscow Patriarch Nikon. He ascended the patriarchal throne in 1652. Even before his elevation to the patriarchate, he had grown close to Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich. Together, they conspired to remake the Russian Church in a new image: to introduce new services, rites, and books, so that it would resemble in all things the modern Greek Church of their time—a church that had long since ceased to be truly pious. Alexei Mikhailovich dreamed of becoming a Byzantine emperor, and Nikon of becoming an ecumenical patriarch. With these aims, they resolved to bring the Russian Church fully into alignment with the Greek Church¹.

Greek clerics, often coming to Moscow to beg alms and having themselves lost the purity of Orthodoxy, nevertheless persuaded Nikon and Tsar Alexei that the Russian Church was supposedly not fully Orthodox—that some of its rites were heretical and accursed, that its liturgical books were erroneous, and that even the Creed was corrupted in them and therefore should be condemned. The Greek Church, by contrast, was said to be entirely Orthodox and pious, and the Russian scribes, they claimed, were mistaken in thinking that the Greek Church had deviated from Orthodoxy and from the ancient Church traditions and customs².

Nikon, having set his mind to correcting the supposed errors and heresies of the Russian Church, had no formal education; he was not even particularly well-read or gifted with talents. He had learned only to read and write, and that imperfectly. Nevertheless, once he became Patriarch, he surrounded himself with learned Greeks. The most influential among them was Arseny the Greek. Nikon trusted him entirely in all matters. But this Greek was a man of highly questionable faith and dishonorable conduct. He had received his education in Rome from the Latin Jesuits. Upon returning east, he embraced Islam. Afterward, he returned to Christianity, but soon leaned toward Latinism. Arseny was unstable in Orthodoxy and ready at any moment to adopt whatever faith was advantageous to him. While in Islam, he even underwent circumcision.

When he arrived in Russia during the patriarchate of Joseph, Nikon’s predecessor, the ecclesiastical authorities sent him to the Solovki Monastery “under obedience” as a dangerous apostate, so that his faith might be corrected. It was from there that Nikon took him and immediately made him his chief advisor and assistant in Church affairs. This caused great scandal and murmuring among the faithful Russian people: they began to say that “a Muslim is ruling over the holy things of the Church.” But no one could contradict Nikon. The Tsar had granted him unlimited authority and excessive power in all things. Encouraged and supported by the Tsar, Nikon did whatever he pleased, consulting no one. Relying on his friendship with the Tsar and the power of the throne, he undertook his Church reform (the reorganization of the Church) with boldness and audacity.

Nikon’s character was harsh and obstinate. One foreigner who came to Russia during Nikon’s tenure testified that as soon as he obtained patriarchal power, everyone feared him. He carried himself with pride and aloofness. Toward fellow bishops he behaved haughtily, refusing to call them his brothers. He grievously humiliated and persecuted the rest of the clergy—so much so that the prisons were filled with clergy who had somehow incurred the wrath of this severe and angry patriarch. All trembled before Nikon. He even tortured his own spiritual father, keeping him chained in a basement, tormenting him with hunger and beatings. Among the people, Nikon was called a wolf and a savage beast. He himself adopted titles in the fashion of the Roman popes, styling himself “supreme hierarch” and “father of fathers.” He even titled himself “Great Sovereign,” and sought to seize state authority into his own hands. Nikon loved wealth and luxury. After the Tsar, he was the richest man in Russia, annually collecting more than 700,000 rubles in income (equivalent to vast sums of money today).

It is clear that from such a cruel, reckless, and avaricious patriarch, one could hardly expect calm or edifying labors for the good of the Church. It was a great misfortune for the whole nation that such a proud and poorly educated despot of the moment should have stood at the head of the Church³.

The Correction of Liturgical Books #

In ancient times, before printing presses existed, books were copied by hand. In Russia, liturgical books were transcribed in monasteries and episcopal residences by specially trained scribes. This craft, like icon painting, was considered sacred. For that reason, it was carried out diligently and reverently. The Russian people loved books and preserved them as holy objects. Even a minor scribal error or oversight was considered a serious fault. This is why the many manuscripts that have come down to us from former times are distinguished by the cleanliness, beauty, and precision of their script, as well as the accuracy and clarity of their text⁴. It is rare to find corrections or strikethroughs in ancient manuscripts. With such extraordinary care taken to preserve the text, only accidental errors or oversights could occur. A hundred years before Nikon, in 1551, a council of Russian hierarchs convened in Moscow, known as the Stoglav Council (which issued one hundred chapters of decrees)⁵. It addressed the state of liturgical books and noted that any irregularities found in them concerned only punctuation marks or minor omissions and scribal errors. The council took measures to eliminate even such small flaws from the books. One may confidently assert that old manuscripts contain far fewer errors than modern printed books do misprints.

The few deficiencies found in earlier books were corrected during the patriarchal period when a printing press was already active in Moscow. At that time, book correction was carried out with great caution. When during the patriarchate of Filaret (1619–1633) it was discovered that there was a superfluous word (“and fire”) in the rite of the blessing of water in the Trebnik (the service book for sacraments and rites), it was not removed until a synodal review was held and numerous ancient Russian and Greek manuscripts were consulted. Such was the extraordinary reverence with which the Russian Church authorities and their flock approached the task of correcting the books.

Things took a very different course under Patriarch Nikon. First, the correction was entrusted to Greeks, even to someone like Arseny, who had converted to Islam, denied Christ and the Christian faith. He became the chief corrector. Second, Nikon undertook the book revision through deceit and forgery. In 1654, he convened a council in Moscow, which resolved that Russian liturgical books should be corrected based solely on ancient Russian and ancient Greek manuscripts. But in practice, Nikon’s editors began correcting Russian liturgical books according to recent Greek editions printed in Jesuit presses in Venice and Paris. These books were regarded as corrupt and erroneous even by the Greeks themselves.

At that time, Arseny Sukhanov (builder of the Trinity Epiphany Monastery in Moscow) had brought back around 500 books from the East. But these were not used in the correction process. Most of them were secular in content—works of pagan authors, Greek philosophers, various fables, tales, and the like. All these books have survived to this day⁶.

Although Nikon proclaimed that our Moscow books were full of errors that even corrupted the faith, he was unable to identify a single doctrinal fault, not even a typo or scribal error. Where the old books printed the word church (tserkov’), the new ones substituted temple (khram); where they said temple, the new ones wrote church. Where the old books said lads (otrotsy), the new said children (deti), and vice versa. Cross (krest) was changed to wood (drevo), and so on. Defenders of the old books were baffled, asking, “How is this better than what was there before?”

The Nikonian editors were not correcting mistakes, typos, or any actual deficiencies in the old books. Rather, they were excising age-old rites, customs, and traditions of the ancient universal Church—some of which were of dogmatic significance. In the old books, the word Alleluia was said twice, followed by Glory to Thee, O God the third time. Nikon’s editors added one more Alleluia. Yet the double Alleluia had been received by the Russian Church from ancient times; in deep antiquity, even the Greek Church said Alleluia twice. This was not a misprint in the books—still less an error—but a decree of the ancient holy Church. The triple Alleluia with the addition of Glory to Thee, O God—effectively a quadruple chant—had been condemned by the ancient Russian Church and by the Greeks themselves, such as St. Maximus the Greek and the assembly of Russian hierarchs at the Stoglav Council, as a Latin custom founded upon the doctrinal error of the Latin Church concerning the procession of the Holy Spirit from the Son as well.

According to the old books, the Divine Liturgy was to be celebrated using seven prosphora (loaves); the Nikonian revisers removed two of them. Yet this use of seven prosphora existed in the Greek Church itself even before the Baptism of Rus’ and was inherited from there⁷. Thus, Nikon abolished an ancient Church institution.

In the old books, the name of Christ the Savior was always written and pronounced as Isus. The Nikonian revisers changed this everywhere to the modern Greek form Iisus. But Russians are not Greeks—they are Slavs—and they should say and write Isus⁸. The Serbs and Montenegrins still print Isus in their liturgical books to this day⁹.

According to the old printed books, it was established that during baptism, crowning (wedding), and the consecration of a church, the processions should be done sunwise (clockwise), as a sign that we are following the Sun—Christ, as even the bishops of the state Church came to interpret this symbol. The Nikonian revisers introduced everywhere the opposite: walking against the sun—against Christ.

The eighth article of the Creed, in the old text, reads: “And in the Holy Spirit, the True Lord and Giver of life.” In the Nikonian books, the word “True” (Istinnago) was removed as supposedly superfluous and therefore erroneous. However, the Greek word in this place in the [Greek text]¹⁰—to kyrion—means both “Lordly” and “True” (i.e., “the True Lord”). And the logic of the Creed itself demands that the Holy Spirit be confessed as True, just as God the Father and God the Son are confessed as True (in the second article: “Light of Light, True God of True God”)¹¹.

All of these and numerous other examples of revisions demonstrate that Nikon and his editors were not correcting typos or minor errors in the old books, but were eliminating age-old customs and institutions of the ancient Church—some of which were even dogmatic in nature. They could not find anything ignorant or unlearned in our old printed books. But they themselves introduced not a few errors and even heresies into the new ones.

Errors in the New Books #

There are an extraordinary number of these errors—numbered in the hundreds. We will indicate only a few.

In the rite of baptism, according to the old books, the priest reads: “The Lord our Isus Christ, who came into the world and dwelt among men, forbids thee, O devil.” Here it is clear and grammatically correct that it is the Lord who forbids the devil—He who came into the world and dwelt among men, as He Himself says: “Lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world” (Matthew 28:20). But how did the Nikonian revisers “correct” this passage? They changed it to: “The Lord, who came into the world and dwelt among men, forbids you, O devil.” They distorted the meaning of the text: now it appears that it is the devil who came into the world and dwelt among men.

In the same baptismal rite, according to the old books, the priest prays to the Lord: “We pray Thee, O Lord, let not the evil spirit descend upon the one being baptized.” In the Nikonian books, this is rendered: “Let not the evil spirit descend with the one being baptized, we pray Thee.” The Nikonian revisers reworded it in such a way that it seems the priest is praying to the devil¹².

In the old books, during the sacrament of baptism, the priest prays: “Impress Thy Christ upon the one who wishes to be born again through holy baptism from my unworthiness.” The one being baptized is born into new life through baptism—that is why it is called the “laver of regeneration”—even if performed by an unworthy priest. In the Nikonian books, the phrase is “corrected” to: “…to be born again by my wretchedness.” The meaning changes: now the person is born not by holy baptism, but by the wretchedness of the priest.

In the rite of the blessing of water at Theophany, the Nikonian revisers inserted into the litany a strange petition: “…that this water may leap into eternal life.” Instead of asking the Lord that the water, by its grace-filled sanctification, may lead us into eternal life, the new books ask that the water itself may leap into eternal life. What is it doing there? And even the word “leaping” is hardly fitting for a liturgical book; applied to water, it becomes almost absurd.

The Nikonian editors introduced many such senseless “corrections.” “They ruined all the books,” the pious people of that time complained.

In the prayer read during Great Lent, “O Lord and Master of my life,” according to the old books we pray: “…take from me the spirit of despondency, negligence, love of money, and idle talk.” Take from me—that is, cast away, drive away, cast it far from me. We humbly confess before God that we possess all these sins: despondency, idle talk, greed, carelessness—and we ask the Lord to deliver us from them, to drive away the very spirit of these vices¹³. But in the new books, this prayer takes on a completely different meaning. There it reads: “Give me not the spirit of idleness, despondency, love of authority, and idle talk.” Here the one praying does not confess his sins, he does not ask to be purified of them—this petition is completely absent. Instead, he merely asks God not to give him the spirit of these vices, as if it were God who imposes this evil tempter upon him¹⁴. It is no longer a penitential prayer.

The Nikonian revisers even altered the Cherubic Hymn in the Divine Liturgy: instead of “bringing the thrice-holy hymn,” they wrote “singing along.” Yet the entire liturgy is precisely an offering: the priest repeatedly says in his prayers that the thrice-holy hymn is being offered, not sung along to or appended. “We offer unto Thee this reasonable service,” the priest reads in the liturgical prayers. The deacon proclaims: “In humility let us offer.” The people respond that they too offer their hymn. Replacing the liturgical term bringing (prinosyasche), which conveys the deep and mystical sense of the liturgy, with the new term singing along (pripevayushche), the Nikonian revisers committed a sacrilege, turning the very heart of the liturgy—the Cherubic Hymn—into a sort of chorus, a musical interlude.

They also altered another part of the Cherubic Hymn, printing: “…invisibly brought forth by the ranks of angels,” and in the commentary explaining it as: “by spear-bearing ranks and with the spear being conducted.” Even at the time, this correction caused great bewilderment. “Isus Christ, the Son of God,” opponents of the Nikonian changes said, “receives an offering from the ranks of angels—not spears and not a procession with spears.” The new synodal book The Rod (Zhezl) attempts to clarify this by saying: “Do not think of spears as physical weapons, but as intelligible things, that is, the power which divides iniquity”¹⁵. But this explanation is even more obscure than the original confused text it seeks to explain. The old Cherubic Hymn was clear and understandable to all the faithful: daronosima—the angelic ranks themselves bear the Gifts—the very Christ. This clarity was replaced by the Nikonian editors with some mention of spears, and some “dividing power of iniquity.” It is unintelligible and nonsensical.

The very ending of the Cherubic Hymn was also changed by Nikon’s revisers; in the old version, it is sung: “let us cast off all sorrow.” They printed: “let us lay aside all care.” The firm, decisive, categorical cast off was replaced with the milder, weaker lay aside—as if for Christ one may set something aside for a while, just for this moment. Why must we do something so resolute for Christ—cast off all worldly concerns? It is enough, apparently, just to lay them aside temporarily. But it is Christ Himself who commands: “If any man will come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross” (Matthew 16:24). And since we cannot do this, the new scribes inserted their own weakness even into the Cherubic Hymn. In it is expressed that lukewarm religiosity which had already firmly taken root among the Moscow elites, and which later turned into outright sacrilege and open unbelief and godlessness.

Nikon’s editors committed so many blunders in the new books—so many incoherent and absurd ones—that it gave rise to the saying that Nikon instructed his chief editor Arseny the Greek: “Edit, Arseny, however you like, just not the old way.”

Over the course of the following centuries, down to our own time, the Nikonian books have been revised and altered more than once. But they have not become any more accurate as a result. The old errors were retained and new ones added. Here are a few more examples of errors found in the new books.

In the Kondakion for the Dormition of the God-bearer, the old reading was: “… the tomb and death could not hold” the God-bearer. In the new version it is changed to: “… the tomb and slaying.” This is already a different meaning: slaying is not mere death, but violent death—strangling, murder, execution. According to the new text, someone “slew” the Mother of God.

In the dogmatic Bogorodichen of the Fourth Tone, “Grant consolation,” the old books sing: “… the Lamb found as prey of the wolf” (i.e., Jesus Christ). This matches reality: it is indeed wolves who snatch lambs. In the new books it reads: “… the Lamb was taken by the mountain.” So now the blame for the lamb’s capture falls on the mountain—an obvious absurdity. And considering that in this dogmatic hymn the “wolf” clearly refers to the devil—as he is also called in the Scriptures—then it becomes rather suspicious why the new editors felt the need to exonerate this “wolf” and shift the blame onto inanimate mountains[^18].

It is curious that Orthodox interpreters of Church hymns find it necessary to explain the word gorokhishchnoe as meaning “carried off by the mountains,” as if mountains were actually engaged in thievery (Herald of the Russian Christian Movement, 1935, nos. 4–5, p. 18). The old text is perfectly clear without any explanation. It is also worth noting that even the conciliar book The Rod uses the phrase “wolves that plunder sheep” (volki ovtsyekhishchnyye), not “mountains that plunder sheep” (gory ovtsyekhishchnyye) (Preface, leaf 2).

In the fourth irmos of the Fourth Tone, “He who sits in glory,” the old version sings: “Isus the All-divine came forth from the Most Pure Virgin.” In the new books, instead of “Virgin” is printed: “from the incorrupt hand.” It is hard to understand what prompted this “correction”—there is nothing poetic or meaningful in replacing “Virgin” with “hand.”

The greeting to the Mother of God: “Rejoice, O Virgin God-bearer, Mary Full of Grace,” in the old books ends: “… for thou hast borne Christ the Savior, the Redeemer of our souls.” Clear and correct. In the new corrected version it reads: “… for thou hast borne the Savior of our souls”—“thou hast borne […] our souls.” Incoherent and obscure¹⁶.

Nikon’s editors left no liturgical book untouched. All the services of the Church were either shortened, distorted, or stripped of their most important prayers and invocations. The rite of confession, for example, was shortened—from 40 folios to 4. In the rite of chrismation, according to the old Trebnik, during the anointing with myrrh, after the proclamation: “The seal of the gift of the Holy Spirit, Amen,” the priest also proclaims (for instance, when anointing the face): “That with unveiled face he may behold the glory of the Lord.” When anointing the eyes: “That with his eyes he may behold the light of the Holy Trinity—the archetype of all goodness,” and so forth. Such exclamations are also found in the mystagogical catecheses of St. Cyril of Jerusalem, who lived in the fourth century. The Nikonian editors expunged all these exclamations from the Trebnik. From the rite of anointing with oil (at unction), they even removed the refrains: “Hear us, O Lord; hear us, O Master; hear us, O Holy One,” which form a collective prayer to God by all who are praying for the sick and are a particular spiritual beauty of the rite of unction. It was quite just that the pious pastors of that time complained of the Nikonian editors: “As cats skitter over the milk-jars, so do these modern revisers flit about the books and, like mice, gnaw away at the Divine Scriptures”¹⁷.

Let us give at least one example of a “correction” by the Nikonians even of the Holy Gospel. Already in his time, St. Maximus the Greek, and later St. Dionisy, archimandrite of the Trinity-Sergius Lavra, pointed out that in certain manuscripts the following passage from John 5 was incorrectly read: “And [the Father] gave Him (the Son) authority to execute judgment, because He is the Son of Man.” With such punctuation, this text was used by Paul of Samosata, a heretic of the third century, as attested by St. John Chrysostom and Blessed Theophylact of Bulgaria. The Nikonian editors printed the verse in just this heretical way. But according to St. Maximus the Greek, in the original Greek Gospel, there is a period after “to execute judgment.” The following words, “Because He is the Son of Man,” begin a new sentence: “Marvel not at this…” Thus is the text rendered in the patriarchal, pre-Nikonian books.

In this brief history there is no space to list all the errors of the Nikonian books. We may conclude our review of Nikonian revisions with the words of our ancestors who denounced these books: “For it is not possible (even if we should wish) to enumerate in full all the innovations, alterations, omissions, and transpositions of verses, tropars, and texts which the new-printed books contain in comparison with the old-printed ones; this has multiplied so much that, from that time of correction, a saying spread among the people regarding the editors: ‘Let it be however it may—just not like it was before.’”¹⁸

All of the above examples of “corrections,” and many others of like nature, prove that this was not true correction at all, but rather shameless and brazen mischief—mockery and blasphemy against the holy books and the centuries-old faith and piety of the Russian people. It is completely natural and lawful that the entire Russian people—that is, the whole holy Church and all her pious clergy—protested against such literary “correction” and declared it heretical.

Curses Against Ancient Church Traditions #

Nikon began his reforms not with the correction of books, but with the abolition of the two-finger sign of the Cross. At that time, the entire Russian Church made the sign of the Cross using two fingers: three fingers (the thumb and last two) were folded in the name of the Holy Trinity, and two (the index and middle) were extended in the name of the two natures of Christ—divine and human. This finger configuration and the confession it expressed were taught by the ancient Greek Church as well. The two-finger method (dvoeperstie) dates from apostolic times. The Holy Fathers of the Church testify that even Christ Himself blessed using this finger arrangement¹⁹. But Nikon issued a decree as early as 1653. This decree was illegal and criminal. At the same time, he ordered the use of the three-finger (triperstie) sign: the first three fingers folded in the name of the Holy Trinity, and the last two to remain “idle,” meaning they represented nothing. The three-finger sign was a novelty. It had only recently appeared among the Greeks and was brought to Russia by them. Not a single Holy Father nor any ancient council bears witness to the use of the triperstie. For this reason, the Russian people did not wish to accept it. Moreover, under Nikon’s explanation, the two natures of Christ—divine and human—were not symbolized in it. And it seemed questionable to mark oneself with the Cross in the name of the Holy Trinity without confessing therein the human nature of Christ, which was precisely what was crucified on the Cross. It gave the impression that the Holy Trinity itself was crucified, not the humanity of Christ. But Nikon disregarded all objections. He pressed forward ruthlessly.

Taking advantage of the arrival in Moscow of Patriarch Macarius of Antioch and other Eastern hierarchs, Nikon proposed they make a statement on the finger-sign, having of course come to an agreement with them beforehand. They wrote the following: “We received the tradition from the beginning of the faith, from the holy apostles and the holy fathers and the seven holy councils, to make the sign of the precious Cross with the three first fingers of the right hand. And whoever among the Orthodox Christians does not make the Cross in this way, according to the tradition of the Eastern Church, which it has held from the beginning of the faith to this very day, is a heretic and imitator of the Armenians. And for this reason, we have him cut off from the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, and anathematized.” This condemnation was first solemnly proclaimed in the Dormition Cathedral in Moscow in the presence of a great crowd; then it was set down in writing and published by Nikon in the book The Tablet (Skrizhal’), officially confirmed by council²⁰.

These irrational and soul-destroying curses and excommunications struck the Russian people like thunder. To everyone it was obvious that Nikon and the Eastern hierarchs had cursed the entire Russian Church, all her hierarchs and wonderworkers who had made the sign of the Cross with two fingers. According to the judgment of Nikon and the visiting Greeks, the entire Russian land was heretical, Armenian, and cursed, because everyone—starting with the bishops and noblemen and ending with the common beggar—had crossed themselves with two fingers. The pious Russian people—or more accurately, the entire Russian Church—could not accept such a flagrantly unlawful condemnation, proclaimed by Nikon and his like-minded Greek bishops, especially since they were plainly lying in saying that the apostles and the Holy Fathers had established the three-finger sign²¹.

But Nikon did not stop with this one anathema. In his published Tablet, he added further condemnations of the two-fingered sign of the Cross. There he condemned the two-finger form as supposedly containing the heresies and impieties of ancient heretics condemned by the Ecumenical Councils: Arians, Macedonians, and Nestorians.

In the Tablet, even Orthodox Christians were anathematized for reading—and therefore confessing in the Creed—that the Holy Spirit is true. In essence, Nikon and his collaborators cursed and anathematized the entire Russian Church not for heresies or errors, but for a fully Orthodox confession of faith and for ancient ecclesiastical traditions. They cursed both the confession and the very traditions themselves²². These actions of Nikon and his allies rendered them, in the eyes of the entire pious Russian people, heretics and apostates from the Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic Church. And so they truly became.

Opponents and Accusers of Nikon #

Nikon’s very first order abolishing the two-finger sign and introducing the three-finger sign met with strong resistance and denunciation from the clergy of Moscow. At that time, Moscow was blessed with remarkable pastors such as Protopresbyter Ioann Neronov, who served in the Kazan Cathedral on Red Square; Avvakum from Yurievets on the Volga; Daniil from Kostroma; Login from Murom, and others. Leading them was Bishop Pavel of Kolomna. All these pastors were marked by extraordinary zeal for the welfare of the Church. Through their fervent preaching, holy labors, and good example, they sought to bring light, truth, and piety into every aspect of ecclesiastical and public life.

Even under Patriarch Joseph, Nikon’s predecessor, they had already shown great concern that church services be conducted reverently, zealously, and in good order; that the clergy fulfill their pastoral duties faithfully; that the people live soberly, honestly, and in a God-pleasing way. These pastors were greatly esteemed by the people, who revered them as holy men. Even Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich respected them. Protopresbyters Ioann Neronov and Avvakum were especially gifted orators: they could speak clearly, fervently, and with inspiration. The Tsar himself would come, along with his family, to hear Neronov’s sermons at the Kazan Cathedral. These renowned preacher-pastors also stood out for their fearlessness in telling the truth to powerful and influential people, exposing their sins and crimes. They were disinterested, straightforward, and honest shepherds. They cared nothing for personal gain, serving the Church and God with full devotion and sincere, burning love, always ready to suffer and even be martyred for Christ’s cause, for God’s truth.

Some of them had already endured terrible suffering at the hands of wicked and powerful men whom they had rebuked for their evil deeds. Such pastors were not afraid of Nikon, with all his immense power and fierce temper. They boldly rose up to denounce him and his actions.

Upon receiving Nikon’s aforementioned first decree concerning the three-finger sign, they immediately gathered to discuss it and began with prayer. Ioann Neronov withdrew for a full week into the Chudov Monastery in the Moscow Kremlin and there, weeping, prayed to the Lord to reveal to him what awaited the Church of God. During his prayer, he truly heard a voice from the holy icon: “The time of suffering draws near; you must suffer steadfastly.” Fr. Ioann reported this to all his brethren²³. After that, they were even more inspired. The named pastors composed a thorough denunciation of Nikon’s decree. With numerous references to the ancient Holy Fathers, the canons of the Ecumenical Councils, and the old books, they demonstrated that the whole ancient Holy Church had made the sign of the Cross with two fingers, and that the two-finger gesture fully expressed the Orthodox confession of the Holy Trinity and the two natures of Christ—divine and human. It was senseless and criminal to abolish this sacred tradition.

The Most Authoritative Testimony: The Stoglav Council #

The most authoritative and incontrovertible decision for the entire Church was that of the famous Stoglav Council²⁴, held one hundred years before Nikon, in 1551, in Moscow under the presidency of Metropolitan Macarius of Moscow and All Rus’—a hierarch described by the academic historian E. E. Golubinsky as intelligent, enlightened, and of the utmost antiquity-loving spirit, “the most illustrious of the illustrious archpastors.” Participating in the council were the great hierarchs Guriy and Varsonofy, wonderworkers of Kazan, as well as the renowned Saint Philip, wonderworker of Moscow, and other celebrated archpastors and pastors of the entire Russian Church.

The Council decreed: “If anyone does not make the sign of the Cross or give a blessing with two fingers, as Jesus Christ did, let him be anathematized” (chapter 31 of the Council). For the Council, as for the entire Church, there was no doubt that this was the blessing of Christ. The Council issued what was in essence a ready-made decision already found in the Greek Kormchaya (Book of Canons) of the ancient Eastern Church²⁵ and in the rite for receiving the Jacobite heretics, which had been translated into Church Slavonic and later included in the Trebnik of Patriarch Filaret of Moscow, confirmed by the Moscow Council of 1620.

The Stoglav Council also referred to the ancient Eastern Fathers—Blessed Theodoret, Bishop of Cyrrhus (6th c.), and Saint Meletius, Patriarch of Antioch (3rd–4th c.). Thus, by his arbitrary and audacious abolition of the two-finger sign of the Cross and of the blessing, Nikon fell under the anathemas not only of the entire ancient Russian Church but also of the whole ancient Eastern Church—and of Christ Himself.

The writing composed by the zealous pastors was submitted by them directly to the Tsar, who then handed it over to Nikon. But the proud patriarch did not heed the just rebuke from these fervent and pious confessors of the faith²⁶. He continued for a long time to place his trust in the flattering, hypocritical, and criminal Greeks surrounding him.

Martyrs and Sufferers for the Holy Faith #

The voice heard by Protopriest Ioann Neronov from the holy icon turned out to be truly prophetic. It foretold to the pastors the coming time of their sufferings and martyrdoms. That time came very soon. By Nikon’s order, the first to be arrested was Protopriest Login of Murom. He was handed over to a “cruel officer” to be tortured.

Another protopriest, Ioann Neronov himself, was first confined by Nikon’s orders in the Spassky Monastery in Moscow, then transferred to the Simonov Monastery, and from there to the Tsareborisov court. During the transfer, the horses were deliberately driven at a gallop to torment the elderly priest with the jolting of the cart. At the Borisov court, he was mercilessly beaten, chained by the neck like a dog, and finally exiled in shackles to the far north—Lake Kubenskoye in the Vologda region.

On his way into exile, Fr. Ioann called upon all Orthodox Christians to stand boldly in defense of the Holy Church, which Nikon was defiling and cursing. From exile, the suffering protopriest wrote remarkable letters denouncing Nikon and those around him. Neronov pleaded with the Tsar to convene a council of bishops, priests, and also laymen, to impartially and fully examine Nikon’s actions. In response to these letters and petitions, Nikon issued a decree to send the unbending elder even further north—to the Kandalaksha Monastery—and to keep him there in chains, without ink or paper, so that he could not write anything from his place of harsh imprisonment.

A similarly harsh fate befell Protopriest Daniil of Kostroma. Nikon had him arrested in Moscow near the Tver Gates, had his head forcibly shaved, stripped off his cassock, and had him tortured in the bakery of the Chudov Monastery. From there he was exiled to Astrakhan, where he was tortured to death in an underground prison.

At the same time, another Daniil, Protopriest of Temnikov, was arrested and “placed in the Spassky Monastery on the New.” In Moscow, the priest Mikhail was also imprisoned and “disappeared without a trace.”

But more than anyone, Protopriest Avvakum suffered. In Moscow, he lived in the house of Neronov. By Nikon’s order, the streltsy burst in and arrested him. Shackled in chains, Avvakum was taken to the Andronikov Monastery. There he was thrown into a dark dungeon, tormented with hunger, and abused: they dragged him by his chains, tore out his hair, punched him in the sides, and spat in his eyes. “God forgive them,” Avvakum said good-naturedly of his tormentors, “it was not their doing, but that of the wicked devil.” From Moscow, Protopriest Avvakum was exiled to Siberia: first to Tobolsk, then to Yeniseisk and Dauria. The great sufferer journeyed for ten years on this distant path, filled with deprivations, severe hardships, and unimaginable suffering. This long journey was truly a martyr’s ordeal. The steadfast pastor endured everything: hunger and cold, whips and jolts, tortures, and all manner of trials. “Oh, that time,” Avvakum recalled with a bitter sigh of that tormenting exile²⁷.

The named pastors were expelled from Moscow—and some tortured to death—during the very first year of Nikon’s activity: 1653. The following year, the same fate befell Bishop Pavel of Kolomna. That year, a council was held in Moscow under Nikon’s presidency on the matter of book correction. Bishop Pavel, a man of forthright and candid character, declared to Nikon at the council: “We will not accept a new faith.” Nikon, being of gigantic stature and great strength, personally beat Bishop Pavel then and there at the council, tore off his mantle, and immediately exiled him to the far north—to the Palaeostrov Monastery in the Olonets province.

There the suffering bishop was subjected to cruel torture on Nikon’s orders and was burned in a wooden hut, “like a loaf offered to God,” as his hagiography expresses it²⁸.

The terrible news of such an unprecedented fiery execution in Russia spread throughout the entire land. Everywhere people whispered in horror that the Patriarch’s throne in Moscow was occupied by a patriarch-tormentor, a hierarch-murderer. Nikon began his reforms not with the blessing of God but with curses and anathemas—not with churchly prayer, but with bloodshed and killings. Everyone trembled before Nikon, and none of the bishops dared to speak a word of courageous reproach against him. Nikon had frightened them all. They meekly and silently agreed to his demands and decrees.

Nikon’s Flight from Moscow and the Trial Against Him #

Patriarch Nikon did not remain long on the patriarchal throne—only six years in total. With his lust for power and excessive pride, he became loathsome to all. He also fell out with the Tsar. Nikon intruded into affairs of state and fancied himself above the Tsar, attempting to subject him to his own will. He spoke of royal authority with scorn and reproach. Once Nikon remarked: “I have no need even of the Tsar’s help—I spit on it and blow my nose at it.” This remark was reported to the Tsar. Alexei Mikhailovich began to tire of Nikon, grew cold toward him, and withdrew the attention and favor he had previously shown him.

Then Nikon resolved to influence the Tsar through threats. This had worked for him in the past. He decided to publicly abdicate the patriarchate, assuming that the Tsar would be moved by this renunciation and plead with him to remain on the throne. Nikon would then use that moment to demand full obedience from the Tsar as a condition for his return. But Nikon grievously miscalculated.

During a solemn liturgy in the Dormition Cathedral on July 10, 1658, he declared from the ambo, addressing the clergy and the people: “From idleness I have grown scabby, and you have grown scabby from me. From this moment, I will no longer be your patriarch; and if I even think to be patriarch again, let me be anathema.” Right there on the ambo, Nikon removed his episcopal vestments, donned a black mantle and monastic klobuk, took a simple staff, and walked out of the cathedral. He crossed Red Square, went out onto Ilinka Street, and stopped at the metochion of the Resurrection Monastery, which belonged personally to Nikon.

When the Tsar learned that the patriarch had left his post, he made no attempt to retain him. Nikon departed for the Resurrection Monastery, which he had named the “New Jerusalem” (about 60 versts from Moscow), and settled there. But he could not reconcile himself to his new status as merely a monastery dweller. Restless and domineering as ever, Nikon attempted to return to the patriarchal throne. One night, he suddenly appeared in Moscow, entered the Dormition Cathedral during a service, and sent word to the Tsar of his arrival. But the Tsar did not receive him, and none of the courtiers or boyars present, nor any of the clergy or the people, pleaded with Nikon to return to the patriarchate—which is precisely what he had hoped for. Frustrated, he returned to his monastery.

Nikon’s flight from the throne created further disorder in the life of the Church. On this occasion, the Tsar convened a council in Moscow in 1660. The council decided to elect a new patriarch in Nikon’s place. But Nikon exploded in vulgar abuse toward this council, calling it a “Jewish and demonic rabble.” In the Resurrection Monastery, he continued to behave tyrannically and outrageously: he performed ordinations, condemned and anathematized bishops, and even cursed the Tsar and his entire family²⁹.

The Tsar and the bishops did not know what to do with Nikon. Around this time, a Greek metropolitan from the East, Paisius Ligarides, arrived in Moscow. It was he who would soon take control of all hierarchical and ecclesiastical affairs in Russia.

Ligarides was a secret Jesuit and had been educated in Rome. The Eastern patriarchs had anathematized him for apostasy from Orthodoxy and had deposed him. He arrived in Moscow with forged letters of recommendation and managed to deceive the Tsar and gain his trust. To this cunning and scheming adventurer the Tsar entrusted the entire Nikon affair. Having familiarized himself with it, Paisius declared that Nikon “must be anathematized as a heretic” and that a large council should be convened in Moscow with the participation of Eastern patriarchs. Nikon knew perfectly well who Paisius Ligarides was and relentlessly exposed him in his writings, calling him a thief, a dog, a godless man, a self-ordained impostor, and a peasant upstart. From the East, reliable reports confirmed that this deceiver was indeed a Latinizing heretic, secretly serving the Roman pope, and that the Eastern patriarchs had long since deposed and anathematized him.

But since the Tsar had no one else to rely on in his struggle against Nikon, this unmasked impostor remained in charge of all church affairs and was the acting head of the entire ecclesiastical hierarchy³⁰.

To judge Nikon and to examine other church matters, Tsar Alexei convened a new council in Moscow in 1666, which continued into 1667. Eastern patriarchs also arrived: Paisius of Alexandria and Macarius of Antioch—the same one who had earlier pronounced anathemas on the two-finger sign of the Cross and those who used it. The invitation of these patriarchs proved ill-advised: they themselves had been deposed from their own thrones by a council of other Eastern patriarchs, and thus had no canonical authority to adjudicate church matters—not only in Russia, a foreign ecclesiastical territory for them, but not even in their own patriarchates. But they came to Russia for personal gain, hoping to receive rich alms from the Tsar of Moscow, and had little concern for the ecclesiastical affairs of Russia.

Paisius Ligarides managed to shower them with gifts; in return, they exonerated him before Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich. In turn, Paisius presented them as lawful and fully authorized hierarchs of the East. In truth, all these Eastern fraudsters, ready to stoop to any dishonorable act, ought to have been expelled from Russia. But the Tsar was utterly helpless without them. Thus, he had no choice but to rely on them—even though he knew they were illegitimate hierarchs who were blatantly deceiving him.

The trial of Nikon began. The council found him guilty of willfully fleeing from his patriarchal throne and of many other offenses. The patriarchs at the council called him a liar, a deceiver, a tormentor, and a murderer; they compared him to Satan and even claimed that he was worse than Satan. He was also declared a heretic for issuing a decree that thieves and robbers should not be given confession even before death³¹.

Nikon did not hold back against the patriarchs either; he vehemently rebuked them. He knew that they had been deposed and thus had no right to judge him. He openly called them impostors, vagabonds, Turkish slaves, corrupt men, and openly mocked them at the council.

Nevertheless, the council unanimously stripped him of all clerical rank and reduced him to the state of a simple monk³².

Nikon was exiled to the Ferapontov Monastery (in Novgorod Province). But this exile turned out to be a life of wealth and luxury, for the monasteries of Novgorod and Belozersk were obligated to supply him yearly with such quantities of provisions and various drinks that they would have sufficed for a large number of pampered and overindulged landowners³³.

Nikon, of course, did not recognize the council that had condemned him: “I consider it to be of no account,” he declared, and continued to call himself patriarch. He recognized no one among the Russian bishops as legitimate and went so far as to say that the entire Church in Russia had become a den of thieves, and its ecclesiastical governance—a demonic assembly. He began to preach that Christianity itself had come to an end in the world, and that the reign of the Antichrist had begun, and the end of the world was near³⁴.

Nikon even renounced his own reforms. While still on the patriarchal throne, he had declared that the old Liturgicons were good and that the divine services could be celebrated from them. After leaving the throne, he ceased to concern himself with his reforms, which had caused such terrible turmoil in the Church. More than that, he began printing liturgical books in his monastery in accordance with the old printed texts: the Creed with the word “True”, the name of Christ as “Isus”, “Rejoice, O Virgin God-bearer, O Mary full of grace” rather than “graced one,” as in the new version, the double alleluia, and so forth. By returning to the old text, Nikon passed judgment on his own reform: he acknowledged it as “unnecessary and useless.”

Nikon died in 1681, unreconciled with the Tsar, with the bishops, or with the Church.

The Trial of the Russian Church, 1666–1667 #

After deposing Nikon, the council appointed a new patriarch in his place—Joasaph, formerly the archimandrite of the Trinity–Sergius Lavra. The council then proceeded to address the controversies stirred up by Nikon’s corrections of the service books and the curses he, along with the Greek hierarchs (including Patriarch Macarius of Antioch, who sat in judgment at the council), had hurled against ancient Church traditions and customs.

All affairs of the council were directed by Paisius Ligarides. No one expected him to defend the Old Faith. Nor could such a defense be expected from the Eastern patriarchs, for the Nikonian reforms had been introduced by the Greeks and were modeled after the spirit of the new Greek books, rites, and customs. Moreover, by this time the influence of the men of Kiev had grown significantly in Moscow. Little Russia had been annexed by the Moscow state, and from it a flood of southwestern monks, teachers, politicians, and opportunists had poured into the capital. All of them were heavily tainted by Latinism and had gained substantial influence at the royal court. Western trends began to take root in government circles and in the Tsar’s own thinking. From the West came all manner of novelties: fashions, luxury, theater. Religious devotion and ecclesiastical life were pushed aside³⁵. At the same time, Paisius Ligarides was conducting serious negotiations with Rome about uniting the Russian Church with the Latin Church. He also tried to persuade the Eastern patriarchs to support this. As for the Russian bishops, they were wholly obedient to the Tsar. It was under such circumstances that the council concerning Nikon’s church reforms was held. Naturally, it condemned all opponents of the reforms, approved the new liturgical books with all their errors and illiteracies, confirmed the new rites and customs introduced by Nikon, and sealed them with monstrous curses and anathemas.

The council cursed Orthodox Christians for making the sign of the cross with two fingers. It declared the two-fingered sign not only heretical because of the faith it expressed, but even because of the natural distinction between the fingers themselves and their unequal physical appearance.

It cursed Orthodox Christians for calling the Holy Spirit “True” in the Creed, claiming that this single word constituted a corruption of the Creed and was therefore subject to the anathema of the Ecumenical Councils.

It cursed them for saying “alleluia” twice during services, and then “Glory to Thee, O God” the third time. This double “alleluia” was explicitly denounced in the council’s official book, The Staff, as heretical and abhorrent to God.

It cursed all who would not make the sign of the cross with three fingers. This triple-fingered gesture was proclaimed a great and immutable dogma for all time.

For clergy, particularly for their blessings, the council also introduced another new hand gesture, called the kheroslozhny or imenoslovny blessing, supposedly forming the name “Jesus Christ”: the index finger forming the letter “I,” the middle finger curved to form “s,” the thumb and ring finger crossed to form “X,” and the little finger forming another “s.” This gesture is narrowly national, for in other languages the Savior’s name (for example, in Hebrew—Yeshua, written in Hebrew letters, or in Chinese or Japanese with their own characters) cannot be formed by any arrangement of fingers. Nonetheless, the council declared that Christ Himself had commanded blessings to be made with Slavic letters and that He had used this same national hand gesture to bless His Jewish apostles (see the book The Staff), even though any educated person knows that in Christ’s time neither the Slavic language nor the Slavic peoples even existed.

The council also cursed all Orthodox Christians who served using the old, pre-Nikonian books.

In conclusion, the council declared:

“This our conciliar commandment and testament, concerning all the aforesaid rites, we deliver and order to be kept unchangingly by all and submitted to by the holy Eastern Church. But if anyone does not obey what we command, and does not submit to the holy Eastern Church and this sanctified council, or begins to contradict and oppose us:

Then we, with the authority given to us by the all-holy and life-giving Spirit, cast out such a one, if he be of the clergy, stripping him of every sacred function and delivering him to the curse. If he be of the laity, we excommunicate and estrange him from the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, delivering him to the curse and anathema as a heretic and rebel, cutting him off from the body and flock of the Orthodox Church of God, until he comes to his senses and returns to the truth through repentance. But if he never comes to his senses and remains obstinate until the end of his life: then let him even after death be cut off, and let his portion and soul be with Judas the betrayer, with the Jews who crucified Christ, with Arius and the rest of the accursed heretics. Let iron, stones, and wood be broken and corrupted, but let him not be dissolved or corrupted, but like a timbrel, endure for all ages. Amen”³⁶.

This “conciliar decree” was inscribed in the Dormition Cathedral in Moscow “for eternal establishment and perpetual remembrance.”

These extraordinary curses and anathemas outraged even Nikon, who had been accustomed to cursing Orthodox Christians freely. He declared that they had been pronounced against the entire Orthodox people and deemed them “senseless”³⁷. In truth, they were not only senseless and mad, but lawless and impious, and openly heretical. The council of 1666–1667 hereticated and anathematized the entire Russian Church, along with all its saints, miracle-workers, and the multitude of God’s righteous ones, for from the time of Prince Vladimir’s baptism the Russian Church had taught everything that this council now anathematized and declared heretical. From its very beginning, the Russian Church had taught the two-fingered sign of the cross; from that time it had called the Holy Spirit “True” in the Creed, had proclaimed “alleluia” twice and “glory to Thee, O God” the third time, had conducted services from the old books, and so forth. The council also anathematized the ancient Eastern Church itself, for it had handed down to Russia all the rites, customs, and practices which the council now condemned with such furious denunciation³⁸.

In order to force the pious Russian people to accept the new faith and new books, the council blessed the torment of those who disobeyed its decrees with the harshest punishments: they were to be imprisoned, exiled, beaten with cowhide whips, have their ears and noses cut off, their tongues removed, their hands chopped off, and so forth³⁹.

All these acts and decrees of the council brought great turmoil to the Russian Church and gave rise to the Church schism.

Uncanonical and Heretical Council #

The composition of the 1666–1667 council was extremely motley and disorderly. Half of it consisted of foreigners who had ended up there by chance, having come to Russia merely to profit from her generous alms. What sort of rogues and adventurers weren’t there! Greeks, Georgians, Bulgarians, Athonites, Sinai monks, Amaseans, Chionites, Iconians, Chians, men from Trebizond, and Little Russians (Ukrainians). Almost none of them knew anything of Russian Orthodoxy, nor did they understand or share in the Russian spirit or national feelings. They knew nothing of Russia herself, her history, or her sufferings—and not even the Russian language. What was Russia to them? What cared they for the piety of the Russian people? All they sought was the wealth of this, in their minds, wild but hospitable land. They were ready to anathematize everything, to declare everything heretical—not only Russian books and fingers, not only the prosphoras and their seals bearing the eight-pointed Cross of Christ, but even Russian beards and Russian clothing. And because of their ignorance, their lack of knowledge of the Russian tongue, they truly did not understand what or whom they were cursing and anathematizing, nor for what cause. They cared only for rich food and generous handouts. Everything else meant nothing to them.

All the affairs of the council were directed by Paisius Ligarides, Metropolitan of Gaza—a cunning Jesuit, an open apostate from Eastern Orthodoxy, who had been cursed and deposed from all sacred ministry by the Eastern patriarchs themselves for his apostasy, a most dishonorable rogue, a deceiver, a thief, a scoundrel, a sneak without equal—and to top it off, a vile pederast and sodomite. It is difficult to find in history a more criminal and loathsome adventurer⁴⁰. And this flagrant criminal, this exposed heretic, this self-styled bishop, was the inspirer of the council, its supreme leader, its head and eyes, its heart and soul.

The patriarchs who sat at the council—Paisius of Alexandria and Macarius of Antioch—were little better than their eastern associate and companion Ligarides. They too had arrived in Moscow with forged letters, and they too had been stripped of their sees and were canonically condemned hierarchs, deprived of the right to perform any hierarchical acts even in their own territories. They were impostors and adventurers. Nikon rightly and quite justly called them at the very council, in the presence of the tsar himself, impostors, vagabonds, and deceivers. Based solely on these leaders and overseers, the council was clearly unlawful, vagabond, and self-appointed.

All the conciliar acts, all protocols, and other documents were composed by Hieromonk Simeon of Polotsk, also a foreigner, a khokhol (derogatory for Ukrainian), a “Latin lover.” Archimandrite Joakim of Chudov Monastery, who later became Patriarch of Moscow and participated in the council, acknowledged Simeon to be a thoroughgoing heretic and even publicly condemned him in print as a dangerous and stubborn Latinizer. Moreover, Simeon was an immoral man: in his writings, he expounded and endorsed such lustful love as would be shameful even to mention in polite company.

And so these dishonorable, faithless, immoral scoundrels and manipulators assaulted the Old Orthodox Russian Church, anathematized its centuries-old piety, declared its customs, rules, rites, liturgical books, and sacred traditions received from apostolic times to be heretical. The Russian hierarchs were silent at this many-tongued council. Stunned by this new “Tatar” invasion upon Holy Rus’, terrified by Nikon’s lawless executions and murders, they slavishly and silently bowed their submissive and, moreover, ignorant and dull heads before these dreadful ravagers and their soul-destroying wickedness⁴¹.

Neither Christ, nor the Holy Spirit, nor the grace of God, nor any blessing from above was or could have been present at this monstrous assembly of all sorts of wheeler-dealers and rogues, these foreign vagabonds—these monstrous blasphemers, potential murderers, crafty frauds, shameless deceivers, and manifest heretics. Yet, nevertheless, this vile rabble proclaimed itself a “Holy Council” and blasphemously uttered its mad anathemas against Orthodox Christians “in the name of the great God,” sacrilegiously presenting their savage, senseless, and lawless decrees and decisions as the “good pleasure” of the Holy Trinity Itself. Most blasphemous of all, this insane delirium, this horrific nightmare, this deathly breath of the devil himself was ratified by the Russian state power under Tsar Alexei as the voice and will of the holy conciliar and apostolic Church. This dreadful company of unbelievers was for centuries thereafter passed off as the very Church of Christ, and the slightest disobedience to this essentially Christ-killing church was punished by death, torture, and torment. From this Babylonian-Muscovite confusion, from this death-bearing mingling of tongues, began the centuries-long devastation of Holy Rus’—worse even than the Tatar invasion. That one enslaved bodies; this one—the spirit. That one ravaged the land; this one—the faith, piety, and very soul of the Russian people, breathing death upon all the generations to come. From this new Babylon—Moscow—there arose across Russia “Babylonian furnaces,” in which pious Russian people were burned by the tens, hundreds, and even thousands at a time. The whole land was lit by the fires of pyres and log cabins, sanctified by the blood and suffering of new great martyrs, passion-bearers, confessors—true saints of God and sufferers for Christ.

Two-Finger or Three-Finger Sign #

Which form of making the sign of the cross is older, more correct, and more acceptable—the two-finger or the three-finger sign? This question has not lost its relevance even in our time. For nearly three hundred years, disputes over it have continued between the Old Ritualists and the New Ritualists. And although it is now unquestionably and scientifically proven that the two-finger sign is of the most ancient origin (dating from apostolic times), and that the three-finger sign is a recent rite with no foundation—and, moreover, dogmatically erroneous⁴²—nonetheless, the Nikonian party refuses to abandon it and continues to cling to it as to the greatest of sacred things, as if it were an immutable dogma of the faith⁴³.

Even now, the New Ritualist Church continues to assert, in its published Psalters, Horologia, and Books of Hours (in the prefaces), as well as in textbooks on the Law of God, that the two-finger sign is an Armenian and heretical practice, while the three-finger sign is an apostolic tradition. Even in such a liturgical book as the Akathist to Saint Dimitry, Metropolitan of Rostov, the “Orthodox” Church still proclaims before God Himself that the Old Orthodox rites—especially the two-finger sign—are of heretical content and origin, specifically from a never-existent heretic named Martin the Armenian⁴⁴.

If in our “enlightened” age, nearly godless, among those “cultured” and “enlightened” people steeped in liberalism, the question of the sign of the cross still carries such enormous confessional significance, then we can only imagine how deeply it stirred and troubled the pious people of the seventeenth century, for whom every church custom held immutable meaning. At that time, the question of the two-finger or three-finger sign was dreadful and fateful—a question of life or death. If you adopted the three-finger sign, you became a full citizen and a “true” Orthodox Christian; but if you held fast to the two-finger sign, you were condemned to destruction: you would be cursed, endlessly persecuted, subjected to excruciating tortures, and burned in a log hut, or end your life under torture, on the scaffold, by quartering, or else spend your entire life in hiding in forests and impassable places, on the distant edges of the homeland or even beyond its borders.

Why then did the pious Russian pastors of that time, and their faithful flocks, renounce all earthly goods, submit to the most dreadful tortures and death, and yet never abandon the two-finger sign? They had very firm and truly unshakable reasons for doing so.

1. Christianity is the religion of the Cross and of the God-Man. “At the center of the Christian mystery stands the Cross on Golgotha, the crucifixion and death of the Son of God, the Savior of the world. In the Son, in the Divine Man, in the God-Man, is contained the entire human race, all of mankind, every human face. Humanity is a part of the God-Manhood; Christianity is essentially anthropological and anthropocentric—it lifts man to an unprecedented, heavenly height. The Second Person of the Holy Trinity, the Son of God, is revealed as the Human Face. In this, man is placed at the center of being, and in him is laid the meaning and purpose of the world’s creation.” This Christian worldview and confession is expressed in the two-finger sign.

Even Saint Cyril of Jerusalem (4th century), in his Catechetical Lectures, exhorts: “Let us not be ashamed to confess the Crucified. Let us boldly trace with our hand the sign of the Cross upon our forehead and upon all things”⁴⁵⁴⁶—specifically, the Crucified. At the head of the Christian confession stands the Son of Man, who bore our sins upon the Cross.

So also says Saint Peter of Damascus (8th century—according to some, 12th): “Two fingers and one hand reveal our Lord Jesus Christ crucified, acknowledged in two natures and one Hypostasis” (Philokalia)⁴⁷. In the two-finger sign, the index finger represents the human nature of Christ, while the taller middle finger beside it represents the divine nature of the Son of God. Moreover, as catechetical instruction demands, the taller finger should be slightly bent at its upper joint, symbolizing the belief that “the Lord bowed the heavens and came down to earth.” The remaining fingers—the thumb and the last two—are joined together to signify the Holy Trinity⁴⁸.

Thus, we see that the two-finger formation uses all five fingers—to confess the Holy Trinity and the two natures in Christ—but in the actual making of the sign of the cross and in blessing, only two fingers touch the forehead, the chest, the right shoulder, and the left⁴⁹. Theologically and dogmatically, the two-finger sign is a fully Orthodox confession. Most importantly, it clearly and definitively expresses—and one might even say demonstrates or manifests—the central essence of Christianity: the crucifixion and death on the Cross of the God-Man, and with Him the co-crucifixion of all mankind. “We preach Christ crucified,” proclaims the Apostle Paul (1 Corinthians 1:23). The two-finger sign proclaims the same. It is substantial and visual: the Gospel and apostolic preaching.

In the three-finger sign, however, there is neither this central Christian confession nor this apostolic preaching. The Council of 1667 dogmatized: “Let the sign of the most honorable and life-giving Cross be made upon oneself with the three foremost fingers of the right hand: the so-called thumb, the so-called index finger, and the middle finger, joined together in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit; while the other two—the so-called pinky and ring finger—are to be bent down and idle”⁵⁰. Not a single word is said about the Son of God as the God-Man, as Jesus Christ who suffered on the Cross; there is no confession of Him in the three-finger sign. It is a sign without the God-Man, without Christ the Savior. It is not even stated that in the Holy Trinity, He is confessed in two natures.

How could the pious people of that time renounce the two-finger sign—the true sign of Christ—and accept the three-finger sign, which confesses nothing of Christ the God-Man? And yet with such a sign, stripped of Christ, the Cross is made upon a person. Thus, in this savage sign, the Holy Trinity is crucified on the Cross—without Christ, without His humanity, without Man. This amounted, at the very least, to a rejection—through this brutal gesture—of the very essence of Christianity, its core, its central meaning and purpose. Such a three-finger sign could be adopted only either through ignorance of Christianity’s meaning or under coercion.

2. Neither the Eastern patriarchs, nor all the adventurers who came to Moscow from various lands and took charge of ecclesiastical affairs, nor the councils composed chiefly of them, were able to justify their three-finger sign—so foreign to the Church of Christ—by a single authoritative testimony. The council could only cite “peasants”⁵¹. Needless to say, this is a very democratic testimony—one might say, downright proletarian. But in ecclesiastical matters it carried no weight, and moreover, it was false in regard to the entire pious Rus’ of that time, which for centuries had been consistently sealed with the two-finger sign of the Cross: all the “peasants” were two-fingered believers.

In contrast to these evidence-less three-fingered reformers, the pious pastors presented a number of very weighty and authoritative testimonies in defense and substantiation of the two-finger sign. In addition to the proofs already mentioned from St. Cyril of Jerusalem and St. Peter, they also cited the testimonies of St. Meletius of Antioch (4th century), Blessed Theodoret, Bishop of Cyrrhus (6th century), St. Maximus the Greek (16th century), and all the Greek and Eastern Fathers of the Church⁵².

They then pointed to the holy Fathers of the Russian Church, all of whom, without exception, made the sign of the Cross with two fingers, as well as the entire Stoglav Council of 1551, in which took part such great bearers of the sign as its very president, Macarius, Metropolitan of Moscow—whom the historian Golubinsky calls “the most renowned of the renowned”—and also the “equal-to-the-apostles” hierarchs Guriy and Varsonofy, wonderworkers of Kazan; Philipp, later Metropolitan of Moscow but at that time only the abbot of the Solovetsky Monastery; and many others.

The Stoglav Council not only confirmed the testimonies of St. Meletius of Antioch and Blessed Theodoret but also issued a condemnation of those who did not make the sign of the Cross and give blessings as Christ did—with two fingers (chapter 31 of the Council). This condemnation, moreover, was borrowed from the ancient Greek Potrebnik (Euchologion).

The two-finger defenders also referred to all the pious Russian patriarchs, in whose books (published by them) the two-finger formation is enshrined and explained. After this followed an endless chain of proofs from holy icons, beginning with the icon of the Most Holy God-Bearer holding the Divine Child in her arms, who blesses with two fingers—a work painted by the Evangelist Luke himself—and ending with many wonderworking icons painted within Russia itself.

How could the Russian Church, after all this, believe the foreign vagabonds who came to Moscow and claimed that the two-finger sign was a dreadful Armenian heresy? To do so would have meant recognizing all her saints and wonderworkers, and indeed the entire ancient Church—both Russian and Greek—as heretics, Armenians, and accursed ones. That would mean branding even the Apostles as heretics, and recognizing Christ Himself—who on all those ancient and holy icons blesses with two fingers—as an Armenian, or worse. No, the pious Russian Church would not go along with this and rejected all these blasphemers, anathematizers, and true heretics. The great Russian people remained faithful to themselves and to their Church.

3. Even the outward appearance of the three-finger sign repelled the pious Russian people. The three fingers were bunched together; it was required that the two upper fingers be bent toward the thumb. In the Nikonian books of that time, the three-finger sign was depicted in just this way. As one writer expressed it, “Everything in the three-finger sign is bent, everything is hunched; it is some sort of timid and slavish gesture.” And indeed, it brought slavery upon all the Nikonians: they lost, in their new church, all the rights inherent to the Church people and were turned into voiceless slaves.

One might object that it was nevertheless formed in the name of the Holy Trinity. But even the curses and anathemas of the Moscow councils and of all those adventurers who led them were, as they themselves declared, uttered “by the good will and grace of the Holy Consubstantial and Life-Giving Trinity, the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.” That did not make the curses gracious. On the contrary—they became even more blasphemous and more impious. Countless horrifying and abominable crimes have been and are committed in the name of God!

Saint John Chrysostom remarks that even sorcerers and magicians use the name of the Holy Trinity for their wicked and impious spells, and that this makes them all the more guilty. The three-finger sign is rightly called by the people a “pinch.” It in no way resembles a solemn banner; it is something commonplace, domestic: a pinch of salt, a pinch of pepper, a pinch of tobacco—here it truly fits and is worthy of its function. But to exalt it as the great banner of Christianity, as the deep meaning and purpose of Christian confession, as Christ’s victory over death and the devil—it is utterly unfit and incapable of expressing any such thing.

The two-finger formation, on the contrary, by its very appearance expresses the banner of the Cross. Among the people, it is even called simply “the Cross.” Two fingers extended upward draw us toward heaven, toward God. It is truly the banner of victory and triumph. The God-Manhood here truly testifies to the drawing of humanity toward God and its reconciliation with Him. The Holy Trinity is also clearly and beautifully depicted in the two-finger formation: the three joined fingers signify the horizon of the world—just as the God-Man Himself said to His apostles: “Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost” (Matthew 28:19), and added: “And, lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world” (28:20). Precisely in the two-finger formation all is present: the Holy Trinity, and Christ Himself in two natures.

4. The three-finger sign was forced upon the Russian people by violence. It became the emblem of the most brutal persecutions of Orthodox Christians. Because of it, and for its sake, pious people were tortured, killed, and burned. The entire country was stained with the blood of holy martyrs. For centuries, millions of the best sons and daughters of Holy Rus’ were persecuted in the name of this three-fingered sign. It became therefore hated by the Russian people. Many came to regard it as the mark of the Antichrist, for only by accepting it could Russians live more or less peacefully in their own land.

The two-finger sign, by contrast, became all the dearer to the pious Russian people—more precious and more sacred—for it too was persecuted: the two fingers were cut off from those who steadfastly kept it. The Nikonians persecuted it with curses and all kinds of blasphemies. They hate it even to this day.

5. The Orthodox Church also refused to accept the so-called name-signing or cheroslognoe (letter-forming) finger formation. The book The Rod (Zhezl) published by the Council of 1666⁵³ asserts that Christ Himself established this form of blessing: when ascending into heaven, He blessed all His disciples with the name-signing formation—that is, He extended His index finger to represent the letter “I,” and bent His middle finger to resemble the letter “S”; from these two fingers came “IS,” meaning Jesus. He then crossed His thumb with the ring finger to form the letter “X,” and bent His pinky to resemble the letter “S”; thus forming “XS,” meaning Christ. So it is, according to the Slavic and Greek alphabets.

But in all other languages, which have completely different alphabets—for instance, Hebrew, Arabic, Syriac, Chinese, Japanese, and many others—no arrangement of fingers can form the name of Christ. Why would the Lord Jesus, who sent His disciples to preach “to all nations,” and first of all to the Jews, need to bless them, the Jews, using Greek or Slavic letters (which at that time hadn’t even been invented)? The book Zhezl does not explain this.

But for the literate people of that time, it was clear that Zhezl spoke sheer nonsense about Christ, which they could not believe—no matter the conciliar curses or persecutions. The pious Russian Church remained with the truly Christ-given blessing—the two-finger formation—which is suitable for all peoples and understandable in all languages, while the cheroslognoe formation, “invented” by persons unknown⁵⁴, was rejected.

Persecution of the Cross of Christ #

The Holy Church recognizes three kinds of crosses: the four-pointed, the six-pointed, and the eight-pointed⁵⁵. All of them are venerated and glorified “with holy splendor.” Yet each has its designated place. The eight-pointed cross is the most perfect, in the sense that it fully represents the Cross of Golgotha, upon which Christ was crucified. It is of this Cross that the great prophet Isaiah prophesied: “The glory of Lebanon shall come unto thee, the fir tree, the pine tree, and the box together, to beautify the place of my sanctuary; and I will make the place of my feet glorious” (Isaiah 60:13). As explained by the Church Fathers, the upright wood of Christ’s Cross was of cypress; the horizontal beam, to which the most pure hands of the Savior were nailed, was of pine; and the footrest, to which Christ’s feet were affixed, was of cedar⁵⁶.

In fact, the six-pointed cross is also a perfect cross—it was on a six-pointed cross that Christ was crucified, as the Church sings during divine service: “Upon cypress and pine and cedar wast Thou lifted up, O Lamb of God”⁵⁷. The remaining two ends of the eight-pointed cross are formed by the titlos, of which the Gospel itself speaks: “Pilate wrote a title, and put it on the cross. And the writing was, JESUS OF NAZARETH, THE KING OF THE JEWS” (John 19:19). With this titlos, the event of Golgotha is rendered more fully⁵⁸.

The four-pointed cross is considered a “reduced” form: it is used in chrismation, anointing with oil, the hand or candle-blessings of priests or bishops, for making the sign of the cross with the hand, and also on sacred vestments, on veils, and on other ecclesiastical items. The eight-pointed Cross, being complete, is placed or depicted in all important and prominent places: atop church domes, on altars, antiminses, prosphoras, loaves for all-night vigils, on the artos⁵⁹, on the panagiarion⁶⁰ loaf, and many other places and items.

The crucifixion of the Lord is not depicted on the four-pointed Cross; it appears only on the six- and eight-pointed Crosses. The six-pointed Cross, that is, the three-part cross, according to the Church’s teaching, also represents the image of the Holy Trinity, as is sung during the services: “The three-part Cross is the honorable wood, for it bears the threefold Image of the Trinity.” The three parts of the Cross (the upright, the transverse, and the footrest) symbolize the three Persons of the Holy Trinity⁶¹.

It is precisely in this three-part Cross that the image of the Holy Trinity is expressed. Why then seek this image in a two-part, dual-sectioned Cross — i.e., in the four-pointed Cross? Is the former hatred of the six- or eight-pointed Cross of Christ still alive to this day?

Instead of a proper Cross, Fr. Sergius drew two spirit levels (vaterypasy) and marked their ends with three stars each. True, each set of stars numbers three. Then he joined the two levels together at their bases, forming a four-pointed Cross. Perhaps this seems clever by modern standards — but it still does not express the image of the Holy Trinity. Each level individually might carry a triadic image — but once combined, there are six stars, which no longer depicts the Trinity, or at best four stars, which likewise does not fit the threefold image.

But the question must be asked: why this game? Why resort to such gimmickry?

Fr. Bulgakov rightly says: “The image of the Cross is truly the image of the tri-hypostatic Trinity. It is a certain direct symbol, a direct icon of the three-hypostases.” (Orthodox Thought, Paris, 1928, Issue I, p. 69). But this refers precisely to the three-part Cross, not the two-part; to the six-pointed, not the four-pointed.

The footrest of Christ’s Cross is praised and glorified in many places in the liturgical books: “Exalt the Lord our God, and worship at His footstool; for it is holy,” proclaims the prokeimenon during the service to the Cross of Christ⁶². This exhortation is not applicable to the four-pointed cross, as it has no footrest.

Thus, the Old Orthodox Church in every age glorified the Cross of Christ and kept each of its forms in its proper place. After the division of the Churches into Eastern and Western (in 1054), the eight-pointed cross became the symbol of Orthodoxy, and the four-pointed one—that of Latinism. In Russia, it came to be called the “Latin cross,” or even kryzh (from the Polish word). In the Western Church today, one will not see either the eight- or six-pointed crosses anywhere—only the four-pointed.

In Russia, by contrast, the eight-pointed cross gained a certain precedence. It bore witness to the perfection and purity of Russian Orthodoxy and piety. The eight-pointed cross came to represent not only Christ’s victory over death and the devil, not only ecclesiastical beauty and imperial dominion, but also the triumph of true Orthodoxy—victory over heretics, and above all, over the Latins.

As one modern writer, philosophically inclined, expressed it: “The Orthodox Russian eight-pointed cross is the center of the universe, lifting us up to the heights of Paradise”⁶³. Another contemporary author, commenting on the lamp of the Cross, where it says that “the Cross is the beauty of the Church,” explains: “What is meant here is not only the inner meaning of the beauty of the Cross, but also the external elegance of this most beautiful geometric figure, adorning God’s temples both within and without”⁶⁴. The eight-pointed cross truly possesses such outward beauty—something that cannot be said of the four-pointed cross⁶⁵.

The Russians firmly believed that the holy churches of the sunken city of Kitezh “were crowned with eight-pointed crosses”⁶⁶. Everywhere throughout Russia, in every fitting place, the eight-pointed Cross of Christ rose and shone with its holy splendor: atop holy churches of God, on bell towers, above the entrance gates of church enclosures, even above the gates or fences of every Christian home—and within churches, upon the Lord’s altars, on antiminses, on prosphoras, on the loaves for all-night vigils, on the artos, on the panagiarion loaf. It towered above banners, being itself the banner of Christianity; over the church doors, and in all other parts of God’s temple where a Cross was to be placed.

On the breast of every Russian Christian there hung an eight-pointed cross, even if it was affixed to a four-pointed base. On the graves of every Orthodox Christian, an eight-pointed cross was always erected. And at the crossroads of the vast country’s backroads, eight-pointed crosses also rose high, bearing witness to the piety and devotion of the Russian people. In a word, all of Holy Rus’ was adorned with eight-pointed crosses.

This was the state of things before the patriarchate of Nikon. From his time onward began the expulsion of this Cross of Christ from all its places—at first cautiously, gradually, then with increasing insistence, and finally with open brazenness, even with rage, hatred, and blasphemy. It was thrown down from the temples of God, cast out from prosphoras, from the artos, from the all-night bread, even from the panagias and the antiminses. It was persecuted and eradicated everywhere.

With grief and sorrow lamented then the great and unshakable champion of the Old Orthodox Church and of Holy Rus’, the mighty warrior Archpriest Avvakum:

“Hearken, brethren,”—he addressed the faithful children of the Holy Church—“what the apostle Paul commands: stand firm for Christ. We are free men, you and I: Christ has freed us from the yoke of sin, has taken from us that purse full of worms, having nailed it to the three-part cross firmly with four iron nails—not with three, as the Roman church and the Nikonians think; the feet nailed with one nail, on a cross without a footrest. What shall be? That which the devil commands, that they do. As the apostle says: they are held under the yoke of slavery. They are yoked to a four-wheeled chariot and drag it swiftly; the heretics each pull in a different direction. The apostles and the seven holy councils of the Fathers, and the pastors and teachers, filled the Holy Church with dogma concerning the Holy Spirit, adorned her as a bride, sealed her with their own blood together with Christ, and sold her to us; but the children of the Antichrist have plundered and ravaged her, and dragged down from the pinnacle the three-part Cross of Christ, and in its place set up the Latin four-sided cross, the kryzh⁶⁷. They cast out the sacrifice from that church and replaced the prayers and the chanting—all was arranged according to the face of Antichrist. What shall be? These are his children; they have smoothed the path for their father. Even if the last devil has not yet come, he will soon arrive. His forerunners have prepared all, and have re-stamped the seal upon poor, blind people, with three fingers and corrupted myrrh⁶⁸. But you, brethren, edified by your holy faith, stand firm for the Holy Church and die for the traditions of your fathers; do not let thieves rob your mother, in whom you were born through spiritual birth”⁶⁹.

Other pastors of that time, shocked by this unparalleled mockery of the six-pointed—or rather, eight-pointed—Cross also cried out in the same spirit, for the titlos of Pilate was placed on the six-pointed Cross in particular. It was never placed on the four-pointed Cross, nor is it found in the Roman Church or in the Nikonian church—only a paper inscription is seen there.

Especially outrageous and impious was the expulsion of the eight-pointed Cross of Christ from the prosphoras, from the diskos, and from the Lamb itself, which is transformed into the Body of Christ. In the old Liturgicons, it was depicted there with a circular seal, along with the reed, the spear, the hill of Golgotha, and the skull of Adam—that is, the event of Golgotha was depicted in its fullness. By the decree of the councils of 1666–1667, all of this was abolished, even the circular seal, which according to the interpretation of the holy Fathers symbolized the infinity of the Godhead⁷⁰. It was removed, and in its place was set a square shape without any symbolic meaning, containing within it a four-pointed cross with the inscription on its sides: “IC XC” with titlos above, and “NIKA.”

This type of cross and inscription was revealed in the heavens to the great Constantine, the Roman emperor, as is recounted in his Life and in Church Histories. Thus, the image of Golgotha was replaced—on the very Lamb itself—with the vision given to Emperor Constantine, and this new form, entirely unknown to ancient Rus’, was enforced with terrifying curses and anathemas⁷¹.

There was reason for the pious Russian people to be troubled and to feel the breath of Antichrist from this heretical “four-wheeled chariot,” as Avvakum called this entire assembly that rose up against the Cross of Christ.

The eight-pointed Cross of Christ was persecuted and hated to such a frenzied degree that one of the “hierarchs” of the new church called it “schismatic” and “Brynsky”⁷². By the command of the 1666 council, seals bearing the eight-pointed Cross were confiscated from prosphora-bakers⁷³, and the prosphora-women were kept in chains for the sole offense of using such seals: “That henceforth such seals should by no means be in the hands of prosphora-women”⁷⁴. Bishops sent strict orders to their dioceses to check whether priests were consecrating with prosphoras bearing the old seal of the Cross; if found, such priests were to be “suspended from divine service,” and the prosphora-women were to be “held in monasteries, chained”⁷⁵.

The newly appointed bishop of the newly created Kholmogory diocese demanded annually that his district officials observe whether “the priests in the parishes were serving the Liturgy over five prosphoras stamped with the four-pointed cross”⁷⁶.

According to contemporaries, “then those who were zealous for the new customs—the newly appointed archimandrites in the bishops’ chanceries, abbots, and priestly elders, and elders appointed in the villages, and others taught by them—would seize those Old Orthodox Christians, bind them, torture them in various ways, and whenever they saw someone imprinting the three-part Cross of Christ on prosphoras, they would mock them as schismatics and adversaries, saying they stamp prosphoras in schismatic fashion, and persecuting them for this, they destroyed them”⁷⁷.

When the Old Believers of that time asked one of the most prominent and authoritative bishops of the new church—Pitirim, Metropolitan of Nizhny Novgorod—“If a priest now celebrates the Divine Liturgy in the Holy Church using the old-printed Liturgicon, on seven prosphoras bearing the image of the Precious Cross with footrest and the usual inscription (‘Behold the Lamb of God, who taketh away the sins of the world’), will it be the true Body and Blood of Christ, or not?”—he answered:

“If any priest, ignorant and corrupt, deceived by you, now dares to serve thus, opposing the Eastern and Great Russian Church and the aforementioned conciliar anathema, such are accursed, and cut off, and defrocked, and utterly stripped of priesthood. And from such conciliar-cursed and defrocked, and priesthood-deprived men, there cannot possibly be the true Holy Body and Blood of Christ”⁷⁸.

Here they opposed only the use of seven prosphoras bearing the eight-pointed Cross⁷⁹—and for this alone, they are cursed and stripped of priesthood. Not only was the eight-pointed Cross the reason for the supposed invalidity of the prosphora’s consecration into the Body of Christ, but also the depiction of the spear and reed on the prosphora seal⁸⁰. The entire image of Golgotha was expelled from the altar’s table of sacrifice—and not merely expelled, but condemned, disgraced, and reviled.

Another authoritative hierarch of that time, Archbishop Theophylact Lopatinsky, exclaimed in his book Rebuke: “Behold, O Orthodox, what a deadly poison, what impiety these evil-minded men hold under their eight-pointed cross and their two fingers”⁸¹.

It should be noted that such episcopal books as the just-mentioned Rebuke and the previously cited Slingshot were the voice of the entire then-ruling hierarchy: they were published with the permission and blessing of the Holy Synod, after prior review and approval. The campaign against the Cross of Christ was the work of the entire Nikonian church. The whole of it is responsible and guilty for it.

From the apostolic times, the Church of Christ established in the rite of baptism the obligatory requirement that the baptized must wear the Cross of Christ upon themselves for their whole life, constantly and unchangingly. In the pre-Nikonian Trebniks, in the rite of holy baptism, it says: “Then the priest, taking the cross with a chain, and signing the one being baptized with it, says: ‘By the power and protection of Thy Precious Cross, preserve him, O Lord.’ And placing it to the infant’s lips, he puts it upon his neck. Then, putting upon him the srachitsa⁸² and the belt, he says: ‘The servant of God, [Name], is clothed with the garment of gladness and rejoicing, in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, Amen.’”

The Nikonian book correctors removed both the cross and the belt, leaving only the srachitsa. In the new Nikonian baptismal rite, to this day it says only: “And clothing him [the one baptized] with the garments, he says: ‘The servant of God, [Name], is clothed with the robe of righteousness, in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, Amen’”⁸³. No cross is placed upon the one being baptized according to the new rite—neither an eight-pointed, nor a six-pointed, nor even a four-pointed one.

From all the above-mentioned places where the eight-pointed Cross was expelled and replaced by the four-pointed one, here, in the sacrament of baptism, it was not replaced at all—the Nikonian correctors left it unmentioned and unprescribed. Evidently for this reason, the vast majority of the Nikonians do not make the sign of the cross upon themselves under any circumstances. And those who do, perform it in such a careless and haphazard manner that, in the words of St. John Chrysostom, such a “waving delights only the demons.” It is worth noting that such “waving” is not only performed by laymen but also by clergy—priests, and likewise even the highest hierarchs of the Nikonian–Petrine church.

About Ancient Rus’, before the reforms of Nikon—that is, Old Believer Rus’—Fyodor M. Dostoevsky wrote: “She understood that she bore within herself a treasure which existed nowhere else—Orthodoxy; that she was the guardian of the true image of Christ, which had become dimmed in all other nations”⁸⁴. Nikon and all his fellow reformers, on the contrary, declared this holy Rus’ heretical, Armenian, and accursed—and for this reason they so shamelessly and brazenly persecuted her great treasure: the true image of Christ, replacing it either with the ‘Latin kryzh’ or with the ‘demonic waving’ or with emptiness.

The frenzied contempt for the Cross of Christ and the most cruel persecution of it has led in our own time some archpastors of the “Orthodox” Church to deny its meaning and its essential saving power. The most famous theologian of the new-rite church and its most prominent metropolitan, Anthony Khrapovitsky, chairman of the Synod of the Russian Church Abroad, teaches that the Cross of Christ has no redeeming power—that the redemption was accomplished before the Cross, in Christ’s agony in Gethsemane. The Cross, therefore, completely loses its saving force.

Metropolitan Anthony has had followers in this dogmatic teaching on redemption: Archbishop Ilarion, former inspector of the Moscow Theological Academy; Professor Archpriest Svetlov (of the Kiev Theological Academy); the writer Hieromonk Tarasy, and others. We have no need here to analyze this new dogmatizing of the archpastorate of the new-rite church⁸⁵. We merely point out that such a negative attitude toward the Cross of Christ is the result of the centuries-long Nikonian persecution of the eight-pointed Cross.

The pious faithful of the Nikonian era rightly sensed that the banishment of the Cross of Christ from its rightful places was indeed a step on the path to Antichrist. That is why they so zealously, even unto suffering and death, stood firm for its honor and sanctity.

The New Church — Nikonopetrovian #

(The New Dogmas of the New Church)

The nightmarish council of 1666–1667 not only confirmed and entrenched the new rites, customs, and books introduced into Russia by Nikon and the Greeks, but also dogmatized them for all eternity: it proclaimed that they could never be abolished or altered “in a single iota”—not in anything, not to any degree, not in the least detail. Otherwise, those who dare to do so shall be accursed, anathematized, and deemed heretics; and even after death they shall remain uncorrupted and unrotting, as if bewitched, bound by magical anathemas for endless ages.

1. Every new rite was given a theological interpretation at the council, and even the smallest deviation from it constitutes a dogmatic heresy. The three-fingered sign of the cross, for example, may not be expressed or depicted with any fingers other than the first three, for, according to the council’s deeply theological reasoning, only these three are equal to one another (which is, of course, untrue), and therefore only they may symbolize the absolute equality of the three Persons of the Holy Trinity. All other fingers are unsuitable for this purpose and lead into heresies: Arian, Macedonian, Spirit-fighting, and many others. The two-fingered sign is deemed a dreadful heresy precisely because it depicts the Holy Trinity with unequal fingers. Thus, the three-fingered sign is not merely an age-old rite—no, it is a dogma, and a great dogma at that. Any violation of it casts one down into the abyss of heresies.

In this same way were dogmatized—through theological interpretation—the naming-finger configuration, the triple Alleluia, the counter-clockwise processions, the Creed without the word “True,” and all the other “trifles” of the Nikonian books.

2. Even the name of the Lord Christ, which in various languages is written and pronounced differently, was dogmatized as the sole permissible form for all nations, namely, Jesus—and no other. For in that name, and in that name alone—Jesus—there is a great mystery, according to the number of its letters. The book The Rod, published by the council, explains: “Such is the most sweet name Jesus, which we have received from the Greek—Jesus, trisyllabic, signifying ‘Saviour,’ according to the angelic annunciation to Joseph: and thou shalt call his name Jesus, for he shall save his people from their sins. If it be not trisyllabic, it does not bear that meaning: therefore, this name must be written with three syllables. Again, by this name are depicted two mysteries, according to the witness of a certain wise man: through the first two syllables—I and I—are signified the soul and body of the Son of God incarnate; and through the third syllable—SUS, composed of three letters—is revealed the Holy Trinity. If but one syllable be omitted, this mystical signification is destroyed: thus it is fitting to write it in three syllables.”⁸⁶ Therefore, in all other languages (Syriac, Abyssinian, Chinese, Japanese, Hebrew—on which, indeed, the angel brought glad tidings to Joseph—and many others), the name of the Lord, as pronounced, neither possesses nor can possess these important and great mysteries.

In the old, pre-Nikonian books, both printed and manuscript, the name of the Lord and Saviour was always written and printed as Iсусъ, under the titlo — Iс. At times one also finds the spelling: Iисусъ. Both were regarded as the name of the Lord Christ, the Son of God. But from the time of Nikon, the name Iсус, or Iс under the titlo, was cast out of all books—not simply omitted, but with repulsion, with fierce hatred, and even with blasphemy. It is quite telling that the Greeks, although they write and pronounce the name of the Lord as Iисус, still print it in their church books under the titlo with a single iota — Iс, whereas the Russian Nikonians do not allow such spelling in a single one of their books, always printing it, even under the titlo, with two iotas: Iис. And this is due to the above-mentioned dogmatic interpretation of the name, in which the letter “И” is given theological significance.

The name Isus, although to this day it remains common to all Slavic nations, was cast out by the Nikonians precisely as erroneous—not grammatically erroneous, but dogmatically heretical—for it does not, in its syllables, express the mystery of the soul and body of the God-Man: it confesses Christ, according to the interpretation of The Rod, either as soulless or bodiless, which in either case is heresy. The new theology explains it thus: that the name Isus “means nothing.” And if it does mean anything, then only what the word “equally-eared” means. Therefore, the name Isus is not the name of the Lord, not of the Saviour, but of some other god—“equally-eared,” meaningless, and yet still “monstrous”⁸⁷. This, essentially, is the brazen and blasphemous impudence of the new theologians. At its root, this false dogmatizing is a repudiation of the Gospel’s proclamation to all nations—it is unbelief in the gift bestowed on the holy apostles on the day of Pentecost: to proclaim and glorify the name of the Lord in every tongue.

3. In the old, pre-Nikonian books, the following prayer was universally accepted and used throughout the Church: “Lord Isus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on us.” Often one also encounters another: “Lord Isus Christ, our God, have mercy on us.” But the former is considered a universal and eternal prayer, for it is founded upon the Gospel texts, being the first apostolic confession upon which the Lord built His Church⁸⁸. Yet the council of 1667 expunged it from all liturgical books and, under threat of anathema, forbade it to be uttered “in church singing and in public assemblies,” and did so on dogmatic grounds—judging the universal prayer to be inadequate, dubious, and tainted with Arianism. It came thereafter to be labeled “schismatic.” To this day, it is not permitted in the liturgical books of the new church and is not used in common worship⁸⁹. Nor can it be permitted so long as the council of 1667 is regarded by that church as lawful and grace-bearing, having proclaimed all its decrees by the will of the Holy Ghost. Not even an Ecumenical Council has the authority to revoke dogmatic decrees. And the decrees of 1667 are precisely dogmatic.

4. The council also dogmatized the new liturgical books with all their errors, seductive formulations, and various other defects. Regarding the Liturgikon (Service Book), it issued a special decree: “The Liturgikon, as it was previously corrected and printed, is now confirmed anew before us by the entire holy council, and is printed in the year 7176⁹⁰, and henceforth shall be printed the same way, and let no one henceforth dare to add or remove or alter anything in the celebration of the holy rites. Even if an angel (after us) were to speak something different, do not believe him” (Canon 24 of the Acts of the Council). Such was the strictness and finality with which the council dogmatized the text of the new Liturgikon: not even an angel from heaven may make a correction⁹¹. Thus, not only every line within it, but every word is a sort of dogma—infallible, immutable, eternal. And all of this has been reinforced with curses and anathemas.

5. Even the very anathemas were dogmatized. The Nikonian reforms began and continued with curses and excommunications. In that time, who did not curse the entire Russian Orthodox people? Nikon cursed, Makary of Antioch cursed, Gavriil of Serbia, Gedeon of Moldavia—all cursed; the Greeks, Georgians, Bulgarians, Ukrainians, Athonites, and Sinaite monks cursed—this entire horde of foreigners who descended upon generous and wealthy Moscow like crows upon a corpse. They cursed at councils, in the temples of God, and in private homes. The very air was thick with curses and anathemas. The council of 1667 crowned it all by proclaiming the most monstrous anathemas—unparalleled in Church history—pronouncing them and sealing them for all eternity. And even after the council, the anathemas and curses thundered for centuries in new acts and various decrees and publications: in oaths, in rites of reception, in the forged Acts against the fictitious heretic Martin the Armenian, in liturgical books (Psalters, Horologia, Prayer Books), in polemical tracts, in the Rite for the Sunday of Orthodoxy, and in many other documents. All these anathemas and curses have not been annulled or abolished by any legitimate conciliar authority. They have only been explained—and thereby confirmed—as lawful and necessary.

The Ecumenical Councils also pronounced curses and anathemas—but upon whom, and for what? Upon manifest, convicted, and stubborn heretics. They cursed them for their heresies and impieties, for their blasphemies and profanations. But the Nikonians hurled curses upon Orthodox Christians. Makary specifically emphasized in his condemnations: “Whoever among the Orthodox Christians does not make the sign of the cross thus”—i.e., with the three fingers—“is accursed, a heretic, and cut off from the Holy Trinity.” And the Council of 1667 likewise directed its soul-destroying curses and anathemas precisely against “Orthodox” Christians.

And for what did they curse the Russian Orthodox people—that is, the entirety of the Holy Russian Church of that time? For the two-fingered sign of the cross—a fully Orthodox, even apostolic tradition; for Christ’s blessing. For the double Alleluia—that is, for glorifying the Holy Trinity according to the ancient form of ecclesiastical worship. For the inclusion of the word “True” in the article on the Holy Ghost in the Creed. If someone recited in church the universal prayer, “Lord Isus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on us,” he was already accursed, because the Council had forbidden it for use in church, and he had disobeyed the Council. If the faithful made a procession around the church with the sun (clockwise), they were under dreadful anathema, for they had ignored the decree of the Council of 1667. If a priest celebrated the Divine Liturgy on prosphoras bearing the eight-pointed cross with the inscription: “Behold the Lamb of God, who taketh away the sin of the world”—for that alone he was deposed, anathematized, and his soul was condemned to descend to Judas the traitor in hell. And the Mysteries he celebrated were no Mysteries at all, but, in the words of Metropolitan Antony of Kiev (later president of the Holy Synod in exile), “a dog slaughtered”⁹².

Black clouds of anathemas and curses darkened the entire Russian ecclesiastical sky. Yet devout Russian Christians comforted themselves with the words of their own saint, Joseph of Volokolamsk: “I speak from the Holy Scriptures, that the judgment of God does not follow either a patriarchal or episcopal—not only excommunication, but even a curse—if it is not pronounced according to the will of God. For everyone who vainly blesses or curses, blesses or curses himself in vain.” Pointing to the curses issued by the infamous Robber Council of Ephesus, headed by Dioscorus, Patriarch of Alexandria, against the blessed Flavian, Patriarch of Constantinople, St. Joseph says:

“And divine judgment did not follow them, but they themselves were cursed by God and by men, for they cursed not according to the will of God. Whereas the blessed Flavian was numbered among all the saints”⁹³.

6. The Nikonian reform was founded upon lies and deceptions. Lies, deceit, and forgeries became the very flesh and blood of the new church. The three-fingered sign of the cross is a new tradition, yet it was and still is presented as apostolic. The finger configuration for the divine name is likewise a most recent invention: not a single Church Father in the entire history of the Church even mentions it, not even in passing—and yet the new fabricators ascribed it to Christ Himself. The correction of the service books was carried out according to contemporary Greek books—the most recent editions, not even printed by the Greeks, but in Latin printing houses in Venice—yet the Russian people were assured by Christ God and the whole Holy Trinity that these were corrected according to the most ancient Greek and Slavonic manuscripts. And so it was with everything—with every decree, in every matter. A long chain of forgeries was created—some of them audacious, scandalous, blasphemous—such as the fictitious council against the non-existent heretic Martin the Armenian, or the so-called Trebnik of Theognostus; falsifications, erasures, false citations, and forged documents were all fabricated. And even after exposure, all this was defended, justified, reinforced—and those who exposed it were persecuted, punished, even condemned to death.

Lies, deception, and the defense thereof became a centuries-long apologetic system—a dogmatic truth. Even in modern times, the famous Philaret, Metropolitan of Moscow, declared in defense of this system a rather pointed phrase that has become historical: “The authors of the forgeries served the truth by means of falsehood.” The Jesuit maxim “The holy end justifies all means” became, in practice, the centuries-old dogma of the new Nikonian Church. But Christ says that “the liar and father of lies” is the devil (John 8:44). And the new dogma teaches that this “father” and his instrument—falsehood—“serve the truth”—of course, Nikonian truth. In this, Philaret was not mistaken. But the devil cannot serve the truth of Christ. The Apostle Paul exclaims, as if in astonishment at Philaret’s phrase: “What fellowship hath light with darkness? And what concord hath Christ with Belial?” (2 Corinthians 6:14–15). Yet the missionaries of the Nikonian Church, in their numerous treatises, in every way justify the lies, deceptions, forgeries, falsifications, and every manner of fraud produced by the new church throughout the centuries. Thus, falsehood is indeed a dogma of the new church.

7. And towering above all this darkness, like the great head of a dragon, stands yet another dogma—the most dreadful of them all: the bloody and fiery dogma of execution in the literal sense of the word—the dogma of capital punishment, as defined by the church itself.

Nikon, at the very outset of his reform, sealed it with the murder of Bishop Pavel of Kolomna and other faithful clergy of the Holy Church. Torture and executions became the firmest foundation of the new church. The Council of 1666 decreed: if anyone disobeys us “even in a single point,” “we shall inflict bodily punishment upon such” (Acts, folio 48). These punishments took the form of gruesome tortures and executions. The Council of 1667 “composed” a special book—The Rod—which it titled not only the rod of “governance and establishment” but also of “punishment and execution.” This book, dogmatized by the council itself, grounds the right of punishment and torture in the Old Testament, which is well known to be filled with various kinds of executions and killings. “But because,” the authors of the Rod explain, “in the Old Testament there were shadows, figures, and prefigurations of what is wrought in the new grace, thus this Rod is also seen as being prefigured” (folio 5 verso). The executions and killings of the Old Testament prefigured it. The compilers of The Rod preach, establish, and defend murder with an almost perverse delight. According to their explanation, the punishments of the Old Testament were graceless—but those of the present are full of grace. In this blasphemous, anti-Christian, and sacrilegious sense, the dogma of execution was interpreted and established by the new church. “If in the Old Testament Church,” explains the ruling Synod in its book The Sling, “the disobedient were commanded ‘to be put to death’—and they were indeed put to death—how much more, in the new grace, should those who disobey the Holy Eastern and Great-Russian Church be given over to punishment, for it is fitting and righteous: for there it was shadow, but here grace; there, types, here, truth; there a lamb, here Christ”⁹⁴. The Meek Lord, who suffered on the Cross, is presented as an executioner and tormentor. “Then how shall we not torture you?” exclaims the author of The Sling, addressing the persecuted and murdered pious Russian faithful, “how shall we not send you into exile? How shall we not cut off your heads?”⁹⁵ This, too, is called a godly and salvific work.

Executions, tortures, burnings, and all kinds of murders were indeed proclaimed as dogma of the faith. In another book published by the Synod for the confirmation of the dogmas of the Orthodox Church, composed by Stefan, Metropolitan of Ryazan—The Stone of Faith—an entire section is titled: Dogma on the Punishment of Heretics. Here, with murderous resolve and staggering shamelessness, it is asserted that “experience teaches that there is no other remedy for heretics but death.” And not merely are they put to death, “but they are put to death by cruel deaths, in order that others may understand the weight of sin and not dare to do likewise. All this is fitting for heretics: thus to kill them is just and righteous”⁹⁶. This is the “healing” that has been elevated to the status of dogma: executioners have become physicians, and pastors—executioners.

Burning log-houses and pyres with tens of thousands of innocent victims; execution blocks with axes, severed heads, and streams of blood; gallows, breaking on the wheel, quartering, the racking of sinews—all this has been dogmatized, theologically justified, sanctioned, and blessed by the new church. The horrific secret chancelleries of Peter’s and Anna’s reigns, the torture chambers soaked in the blood of the martyrs and confessors of the old faith—these are the “altars” now called blessed; the executioners, tormentors, torturers, murderers—these are a kind of “clergy.” All this madness was foretold by the Savior Himself: “The time cometh,” He said to His disciples, “that whosoever killeth you will think that he doeth God service” (John 16:2). But in truth, he serves the devil, “a murderer from the beginning” (John 8:44).

8. Such a dogmatic belief—that Christ is an executioner, and the grace of God a New Testament means for merciless torture and murder—naturally led to the transformation of the sacraments themselves into instruments of police investigation, torture, execution, and the defilement of the soul.

9. In April 1722, there followed a Supreme Decree which required that priests report to the civil authorities any “premeditated crimes” discovered in confession—crimes that included anything which could be considered harmful to faithful service to the state or to the benefit of church and nation⁹⁷. The Governing Synod expanded this not only to include “plots against the body of the Church” but also various forms of “theft”⁹⁸. Thus, priests became investigators and informants, and confession became an instrument of police inquiry. According to the requirements of the Synodal Regulation, a priest who extracted from a penitent some sin for which he was to be arrested had to accompany him “without delay and without excuse” to the places specified in the Supreme Decree—namely, the “Secret Chancellery” (the early version of the secret police) or the “Preobrazhensky Order” (Peter’s version of the GPU)⁹⁹.

To justify such inquisitorial and traitorous behavior on the part of a priest, the Synod cited the very words of the Lord. “For by such reporting,” explains the supreme institution of the new church, “the confessor does not reveal the completed confession and does not break the canons, but rather fulfills the teaching of the Lord, Who said: ‘If thy brother sin against thee, go and reprove him between thee and him alone: if he hear thee, thou hast gained thy brother. But if he will not hear thee, tell it to the Church’”¹⁰⁰. By “Church,” the Synod here means the Secret Chancellery and the Preobrazhensky Order—that is, the secret police. It would be hard to imagine a more blasphemous distortion of the teaching of the Lord. The sacrament of confession was transformed into a police institution or a gendarme division, and the priest into the most dangerous GPU-agent or investigator, armed with extraordinary powers and authority.

Still more blasphemously did the new church treat the sacrament of Communion. The Synod turned it not only into an instrument of surveillance, but into a means of defiling the souls of the faithful. In its Regulation, the Synodal authority shamelessly declares: “There is no better sign for identifying a schismatic than to force him to partake of Communion.” The very Body of Christ and Blood of Christ became a means of police identification—a tool for exposing supposed criminals. In order to avoid such a dreadful Communion, devout people invented for themselves the gravest of sins—those which, according to church tradition, exclude one from Communion for decades. But even this did not help, for the command was given that such people were to be communed regardless. For the Synod did not regard its Communion as a holy thing which must not be given to the unworthy, but as a cunning and reliable method for uncovering a person’s inner secrets—and at the same time, for defiling their soul by that very means.

The author of the Synodal Sling boasts to the Old Believers with shameless malice: “I know—truly I know—that no priest forces to Communion any other schismatics or heretics, apostates though they be, except for such as you”¹⁰¹. They are schismatics, heretics, and accursed—one Synodal hierarch even declared that they were “worse than Jews”¹⁰²—and yet they were forcibly communed with the new sacrament, for the purpose of mocking them, harming them spiritually, and destroying them inwardly.

Old Believers were hunted by the hundreds, herded into fortresses or prisons, and there, tied up or thrown to the ground, Communion was poured into their mouths by force. A special instrument was invented to pry open the mouths of such communicants—something like a gag. Historian Ivan Filippov records that such “gags were inserted into the mouth, and the sacrament was poured in,” although “some held it in their mouths, and upon exiting the church, spit it out onto the ground”¹⁰³.

Particularly notorious for his zeal in such forced communions was the Riga chief hieromonk Markell Rodyshensky. On one occasion, he “placed under guard up to 500 people who had not confessed or received Communion, drove them into the citadel like sheep, and ordered them to fast and all be made worthy of the Holy Mysteries”¹⁰⁴.

St. Theodore the Studite says that only the ancient Christ-hating heretics—the iconoclasts—forced people to receive Communion¹⁰⁵. The pagan idolaters used to pour sacrificial offerings into the mouths of Christian martyrs by force¹⁰⁶. Clearly, their intent was to defile the Christians. And for the same purpose, the Russian new church forcibly gave Communion to the Old Believers—and even to its own members. It turned Christ into a cruel violator, commanding that confessed sinners be sent to Peter’s secret police and extraordinary courts to be slain—and turned His sacraments into vile and treacherous tools of surveillance and even spiritual desecration.

9. In order to defend in practice all the above-mentioned dogmas—as well as other innovations—the new church had to be founded and solidified upon yet another dogma, without which all the others would have scattered like dust, like a fleeting delusion over Holy Rus. Perhaps they would never have entered the history of Russia at all. This is the dogma of caesaropapism—the submission of the new church to imperial power, even its recognition of the monarchy as a replacement for Christ Himself.

Patriarch Ioasaph, Nikon’s successor, together with the entire Council of 1667, addressed Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich with the very prayer once spoken by the prophet David to God Himself—and in the very same words: “Thou, O Orthodox Tsar, withdraw not Thy help from me; attend unto my defense; deliver my soul from the sword, my only one from the power of the dog. Save me from the lion’s mouth, and my humility from the horns of the unicorns. For this cause, we take refuge under the shadow of Thy wings with this rod (the book The Rod)—that by the might of Thy most powerful right hand, Thou mightest bring to Thyself strength for the subjugation of all to Thy doctrine and command” (The Rod, introduction addressed to the Tsar).

The Council well understood that without the power and authority of the Tsar, all of its decrees and declarations were powerless and would be accepted by no one—for they bore no blessing from God. It openly confessed that without the Tsar’s “most powerful right hand,” its own rod, its conciliar authority, had no strength. Therefore, it placed everything upon the Tsar, as the prophet David says—upon his “chariots” and his “horses.” These are the foundation of the new church—not Christ.

Already in the Sluzhebniks (Priest’s Service Books) published as early as 1656, a special and honorable place was assigned to the Tsar in the very text of the Liturgy, with the proclamation of his resounding title. According to the older, pre-Nikonian Sluzhebniks, at the Great Entrance the priest proclaimed only: “May the Lord God remember you all in His kingdom.” The Tsar was mentioned only if he was personally present at the service¹⁰⁷, and even then he was addressed quite modestly: “May the Lord God remember your nobility in His kingdom.” But in the new Sluzhebniks, it was required that everywhere, in all churches, at every Great Entrance, the Tsar be commemorated with a title of extreme length: “great, most serene, most meek,” and so on¹⁰⁸. In subsequent reigns, the titles of Tsars, Tsaritsas, Grand Dukes and Duchesses, and their children, as commemorated at the Great Entrance, grew to such length that they often took more time to recite than the celebration of the entire Liturgy. The Liturgy itself was transformed into a sort of royal demonstration¹⁰⁹.

Peter the Great introduced into the Synodal Regulation an oath for member hierarchs, in which they swore by Almighty God to recognize as the “Supreme Judge” over the Synod—and hence over the entire Church—none other than the sovereign Emperor Peter Alexeyevich himself. All was to be subject to him: the Church, the hierarchy, the councils—he stood above and beyond all; he was the “Supreme Judge,” and above him there was no one. According to the Fundamental Laws of the Russian Empire, the Tsar was recognized and titled as head of the Church. In essence, it was in his name, by his authority, that the entire Church—and the Synod itself—was governed by the Chief Procurators of the Synod. These became the actual and infallible heads of the Church. The dogma of Caesaropapism turned into Chief-Papism, which was even more pernicious and heretical.

All the aforementioned dogmas, as well as the others of the new church, were born of a new spirit—alien to ancient Rus’, opposed to the true Church of Christ and to Christ Himself—a corrupt and destructive spirit, which blew across Rus’ beginning with the time of Alexei and Nikon, and which, gradually poisoning the great land more and more, has brought it to ruin in our own days.

Hope for the Restoration of the Ancient Orthodox Faith #

The schism of the Russian Church did not happen all at once. The decrees of the Council of 1666–1667 were so staggering, filled with so much absurdity and madness, that the Russian people regarded them as a “diabolical delusion.” Many believed it to be but a passing fog that would soon lift. Supporters and defenders of the old books and the ancient Church believed that Tsar Alexei had been deceived by visiting Greeks and Khokhols (Little Russians—Ukrainians), and trusted that he would eventually see through the deceit, return to the old ways, and cast the deceivers away from him.

As for the Russian hierarchs who had participated in the council, people generally believed that they were not firm in the new faith, and only out of fear of the Tsar were they willing to believe whatever he commanded. One of the most prominent supporters of the new faith and the new books, the archimandrite of Chudov Monastery, Ioakim (later Patriarch of Moscow), openly declared: “I do not know the old faith nor the new, but whatever the superiors command, that I am ready to do, and to obey them in all things.” “Fine teachers of the Law!” exclaimed the archpriest Avvakum about such bishops. “But what is there to wonder at? They were specially appointed, like provincial executioners—they do whatever they are told. All they ever say is, ‘Yes, Your Majesty, of course, Your Majesty, well said, Your Majesty.’”

Avvakum recalled one particularly illustrative incident that vividly portrays the servility and lack of will among the hierarchs of that time: “That bear Nikon, mocking, sent a bear to Jonah (Metropolitan of Rostov), and he bowed to the bear. A ‘metropolitan,’ a lawgiver!” Avvakum marvels at him. “And there he sits in council with the Palestinians (i.e., the Eastern Patriarchs), as if he knows anything.” That is, he took part in the council alongside the Eastern Patriarchs.

“And as for Pavel of Krutitsy,” Avvakum continues about another Metropolitan, “it is disgusting even to speak of him: an open fornicator, a devourer of the Church’s wealth and instigator of bloodshed, a murderer and slayer of souls, the pet bishop of Anna Mikhailovna Rtishcheva, her lapdog, ready to chase down Christ’s lambs and throw them into the fire.” He “never lived a spiritual life, always dealt in pancakes and fritters. And once he became a priestling, he learned to lick platters at the noblemen’s tables. He neither saw nor knew anything of the spiritual life.”

Nor was the third hierarch, Illarion, Archbishop of Ryazan, any better. “He climbs into his carriage and spreads himself out like a bubble on water, sitting on cushions, his hair combed out like a maiden, riding with his face on display for the nuns of Vorokhino to admire. Oh, oh, poor soul!” cries Avvakum. “There is no one left to weep for you!”

Avvakum knew all those hierarchs of his time quite well. To all of them he says: “There is nothing a good man can hear from you: you speak only of how to sell and how to buy, how to eat, how to drink, how to fornicate with women… And there are other things I’m ashamed even to mention, though I know all your wickedness—metropolitans, archbishops—thieves, fornicators, and worse than foreign Germans pretending to be Russian”¹¹⁰.

To men such as these, Russian piety, Holy Rus’, and the Church of Christ meant nothing. That is why they so easily and thoughtlessly, and without understanding, embraced every innovation and, together with the foreign interlopers, cursed the entire Orthodox Russian people and declared its age-old traditions, customs, and books to be heretical.

After the Council of 1667, for another fifteen years there continued disputes between the supporters of the old and the new faith—between the representatives of the ancient, popular Church and the representatives of the new, government Church. The defenders of tradition still hoped that the conflict could be resolved, that the schism in the Church might be healed, that the state authorities would come to their senses and return to the old ways, leaving behind all the “Nikonian mischief.”

The zealous protopope Avvakum sent letter after letter to the Tsar, calling him to repentance: “Have mercy on thine only-begotten soul, and return again to thine original piety, in which thou wast born.” The “warrior” protopope, as the renowned historian Sergey M. Solovyov called him, passionately and eloquently persuaded the Tsar that the old Orthodoxy—which had been so blasphemously cursed by the council—contained not even the slightest error. “If in our Orthodoxy,” Avvakum wrote, “or in our ancestral books and in the dogmas they contain, there be even a single heresy or blasphemy against Christ or His Church, then we are ready to offer our repentance before all the Orthodox, especially if we ourselves have introduced anything scandalous into the Church.” “But no! No, there is neither schism nor heresy behind us,” the steadfast and unyielding pastor exclaimed with conviction. “We hold to the true and right faith—we die for it and shed our blood for the Church of Christ.”

Another fervent confessor of ancient Orthodoxy and martyr, the priest Lazar, presented a petition to the new Patriarch of Moscow, Ioasaph, begging him “to erase the footprints of Nikon,” that is, to cast aside all his innovations and return to the former piety. Then, hoped the holy martyr, “the cruel heresy will cease.” To the Tsar, Father Lazar petitioned for a public disputation with the spiritual authorities: let all see and hear which faith is true—old or new.

Alexei Mikhailovich did not heed these pleas and prayers and died unrepentant in great suffering (January 29, 1676). His son, Fyodor Alexeyevich, ascended the throne. The defenders and confessors of the old faith and the ancient Church likewise turned to this Tsar with fervent supplications—to renounce the Nikonian delusion and return to the true faith of the pious ancestors and holy God-pleasers. But this entreaty, too, was in vain.

The new Church, like the new Russia—then taking form in the upper echelons of the court and government—had already firmly and irreversibly set itself upon the path of Westernism, the new European culture, which even at that time was, in essence, anti-Christian and godless¹¹¹. “Oh, oh, poor Rus’, what have you set your heart on—German customs and ways?” cried the far-seeing Avvakum in sorrow¹¹².

To all the petitions of the Church pastors who thirsted for peace and ecclesiastical unity, the Moscow government responded with exiles and executions.

Persecutions of Old-Orthodox Christians #

New exiles and executions followed immediately after the 1667 Council. The renowned defenders of ancient Russian piety—Archpriest Avvakum, Priest Lazar, Deacon Feodor of the Annunciation Cathedral in Moscow, and the monk Epiphanius—were exiled to the far north and confined in an earthen prison in Pustozersk (Archangel Province). These confessors were subjected, with the exception of Avvakum, to a special torment: their tongues were cut out and their right hands severed, so they could neither speak nor write in rebuke of their persecutors and their false faith. Yet when their tongues were miraculously healed and they began to speak again, they were cut out a second time.

For more than fourteen years, these confessors remained in their tormenting imprisonment—in a damp pit—yet none of them wavered in the truth of their faith. From there they sent out letters, messages, and exhortations to their brethren in the faith—who then comprised all of rustic, homespun Russia—to keep whole and unchanged the ancient patristic Orthodox faith, and to stand firm in it unto death. The pious people venerated these prisoners as invincible warriors of Christ, as wondrous passion-bearers and martyrs for the holy faith. Pustozersk became a sacred place.

At the urging of the new Patriarch of Moscow, Ioakim, the sufferers of Pustozersk were condemned to be burned in a log cell. The execution took place on a Friday—the day of Christ’s Passion—April 14, 1682. They were brought out to a square, where a log cabin had been prepared. The bright spring sun was shining, as though greeting these ones come forth from the grave (from the pit in which they had so long languished). For over fourteen years they had not seen God’s light, nor the sky, nor any other beauty of nature. They entered the log cell cheerfully and joyfully. The crowd stood around the site of execution in silence, bareheaded. The wood was set aflame, and the cell ignited. Archpriest Avvakum managed to address the people with a final word. Raising his hand in the dvoeperstie (two-fingered sign of the cross), he declared: “If ye pray with this cross, ye shall never perish.” When the martyrs had been consumed by fire, the people rushed to gather their holy bones as relics, to carry them throughout the Russian land.

Burning with the fire of faith, they were consumed by material fire, to become beacons shining across the ages.

Tortures and executions of Old-Orthodox Christians took place also in other towns and regions of the Russian state. In Moscow itself, log cells and pyres burned, other scaffolds were raised, and devilish tortures and inhuman cruelties raged in the dungeons. Six years before the burning of the Pustozersk prisoners, entire hundreds of venerable fathers and confessors of the glorious Solovki Monastery were given over to cruel death. This monastery, along with other cloisters and sketes of the Russian Church, had refused to accept the new Nikonian books as scandalous and erroneous. The Solovki monks decided to continue divine services according to the old books, by which the Solovki wonderworkers had served and pleased God. Over the course of several years, they wrote five petitions to the Tsar, begging for only one thing: permission to remain in the old faith. “We weep all with tears,” wrote the monks to Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich, “have mercy on us poor and orphaned ones, command us, sovereign, to remain in that same old faith in which thy father and all the pious tsars and great princes and fathers reposed, and the venerable fathers of the Solovki monastery—Zosima, Savvaty, German, and Metropolitan Philip, and all the saints—pleased God.” The Solovki monks were firmly convinced that betrayal of the old faith was betrayal of the very Church of Christ and of God Himself. Therefore, they agreed rather to endure torment than to depart from the holy faith of their God-pleasing forefathers. They boldly declared to the Tsar: “It is better for us to die a temporal death than to perish eternally. And if we be given over to fire and tortures or cut into pieces, we shall still not betray the apostolic tradition unto the ages.”

In expectation of martyrdom, many of the elders received the schema (great monastic habit). In reply to all the pleas and supplications of the humble monks, the Tsar sent a military detachment to Solovki to force the poor elders to accept the new faith and books. The monastery did not admit the detachment and shut itself behind its stone walls like a fortress.

The Tsar’s troops laid siege to Solovki Monastery for seven years (from 1668 to 1675). Finally, on the night of January 22, 1676, the streltsy, led by voivode Meshcherinov, broke into the monastery and a dreadful massacre of the monastic inhabitants began. Up to 400 monks and lay brethren were tortured to death—some hanged, others hacked to pieces on chopping blocks, still others drowned in ice holes. The entire monastery was drenched in the blood of the holy sufferers. They died peacefully and resolutely, asking neither mercy nor pardon. By some miracle, only 14 elders survived that bloody carnage. The bodies of the slain and hacked martyrs lay untouched and undecayed for a full half-year, until the Tsar’s order came to bury them. The ravaged and plundered monastery was repopulated with monks sent from Moscow, who had accepted the new faith—the governmental one—and the new Nikonian books.

Shortly before the execution of the Solovki sufferers, two noble sisters of the illustrious boyar family of the Sokovnins were tortured in Borovsk (Kaluga Province), in an earthen prison—Lady Feodosia Prokopievna Morozova and Princess Evdokia Prokopievna Urusova. They were both very wealthy, especially Lady Morozova, a young widow. From childhood, both had been surrounded with honor and glory, were close to the royal court, and often present there. But for the sake of the true faith and in the name of Christ, they spurned wealth, honor, and the glory of this world. Firmly convinced of the truth of the old, pre-Nikonian faith, they fearlessly and boldly stood forth as confessors of that holy faith. There came exhortations—to renounce the pious faith; then threats—of being stripped of all possessions, of arrest, imprisonment, and execution.

The noble sisters were not frightened by these threats and would not agree to accept the innovations. They were arrested and subjected to dreadful tortures: they were hoisted on the rack (with their arms twisted back and hung from a beam), their bones cracked from the severity of the torment. Then a frozen plank was placed on their chests, and they were brought, bound, near fire to terrify them with burning. These wondrous confessors endured everything and did not renounce the right-believing faith. By order of the Tsar, they were sent to the town of Borovsk and thrown into a dark, damp underground cell crawling with insects. The confessing sisters were tormented with hunger and cold. Their strength waned, and life slowly ebbed: on September 11, 1675, Princess Evdokia Urusova died, and after 51 days (on November 2), Lady Feodosia Morozova reposed, having taken monastic vows under the name Theodora shortly before her exile. With them also perished a third noble sufferer, Maria Danilova, the wife of streltsy commander Akinf Danilov. To terrify them, a fourth confessor—the nun Iustinia—was tortured beforehand and burned alive before the Borovsk dungeon, in the sight of the noble sufferers, the holy great-martyrs Theodora, Evdokia, and Maria. Their courageous endurance and manifold torments astonished even the fire-tempered martyr Avvakum. “Cherubim with many eyes,” he praised them, “Seraphim with six wings, fiery commanders, hosts of the heavenly powers, a threefold unity of the Triune Godhead, faithful handmaids: Theodora in Evdokia, Evdokia in Theodora, and Maria in Theodora and Evdokia. O, great luminaries!”

“It is hard to find in Russian history a woman greater and stronger in spirit than Morozova,” writes one Russian author, Chudinov. To this, Bishop Mikhail of Canada adds: in all of Russian history, there was never a woman of such intense religious feeling, such love for the Sweetest Jesus, as she and her blessed sister. “Crowned with martyr’s patience, honored during life and venerated as saints after death, they live and shall live forever in the memory of the Russian people—as an incomparable model of steadfastness, as a rule of faith, as a bright beacon pointing the way to honest fulfillment of civic duty. Even Theodosia’s (Theodora’s) torturers, struck by the greatness of spirit within a frail woman’s body, were compelled to recognize in Lady Morozova a holy martyr.” Tsar Alexei called her “a second Catherine—the great martyr.” This name is also deserved by Evdokia, weaker in body but all the more wondrous in her imitation of her sister. And alongside these two stood Melania, “the great mother” (another venerable martyr), Justina, and others.

The Old-Orthodox Church canonized both Avvakum and his fellow sufferers burned at Pustozersk, as well as the martyrs of Borovsk, into the ranks of the saints and God-pleasers¹¹³.

Many other ascetic women and female confessors were also martyred at that time: some were scourged with whips and knouts, others were starved to death in dungeons, still others were burned with fire. All of them have deservedly entered the great host of God’s saints, shining before the throne of the Lord of Glory.

Disputes Concerning the Faith #

Despite such cruel persecutions and tortures, the defenders of the Orthodox faith still did not lose hope that the old faith would triumph, for the new faith was upheld solely by the power of the government, while the people and clergy had no sympathy for it and did not wish to accept it.

The new tsar, Fyodor Alexeyevich, reigned only a short while: he died on April 27, 1682. In his place, the young tsareviches Ioann and Peter Alexeyevich were proclaimed joint tsars, and their sister, Sophia Alexeyevna, was made co-regent. At this time, the patriarchal throne was occupied by Patriarch Ioakim, a harsh and rigid man who greatly hated the old faith and its followers. Judging by his book Uvet, written as a rebuke to Old Orthodoxy, he was firmly convinced that the ancient church rites and customs, as well as the old books, were truly heretical: the two-fingered sign of the cross, the double alleluia, the offering of seven prosphora, the Creed with the proclamation of the Holy Ghost as “True”—all of this he condemned as impious heresies, all of it cursed and rejected. Yet to justify his claims, Ioakim did not hesitate to resort to obvious forgeries, fabrications, and deceit. This Uvet, full of insults and all manner of falsehoods, he nevertheless confirmed at a council and declared it a canonical book of the new church.

He persecuted not only the living confessors of the ancient holy faith, but even those long since departed, including saints already glorified by the Church. Thus, Ioakim struck Princess Anna of Kashin from the ranks of the saints—though she had reposed three hundred years before the Church schism—banned the services in her honor, and had her relics hidden away, solely because her saintly hands were folded in the two-fingered sign. He also removed the service to the Venerable Euphrosynus of Pskov merely because, in it and in his life, the antiquity and correctness of the double alleluia was attested¹¹⁴. It was hardly to be expected that such a reckless persecutor of the holy Church would return to it.

But the new reign was upheld by the power of the streltsy (musketeers), many of whom nevertheless stood for the old faith. They were led by Prince Khovansky, a staunch supporter of Old Orthodoxy. This favorable circumstance was seized upon by the zealous defenders of the old faith, at whose head in Moscow stood Priest Nikita Dobrynin, a well-read and gifted pastor and an exceptional writer. On behalf of all the streltsy regiments and the inhabitants of the Black Sloboda, a petition was composed to Tsars Ioann and Peter Alexeyevich, requesting the “restoration of ancient piety.” Special envoys were elected, who were to present the petition to the tsars and engage in a disputation with the patriarch himself on questions of faith.

The petitioners first presented themselves to Patriarch Ioakim. They asked him to explain why the old books had been rejected, and what heresies were found in them. The patriarch replied:

“It is not your place to reason about this. The bishops decide and judge all things; you must simply obey them and not dispute, for they bear the image of Christ.”

“Christ saith,” the envoys retorted, “Learn of Me, for I am meek and lowly of heart; but ye threaten with log-cells, fire, and sword, and ye slay.”

“We torture and burn you,” the patriarch shamelessly replied, “because you call us heretics and do not obey the Church”¹¹⁵.

The petitioners began to prove that the new books did indeed contain errors, and that the correctors of those books were indisputable heretics, such as Arseny the Greek, who had even renounced Christianity. They then pointed out that in Rus’, true Christians were being persecuted merely for performing divine services according to the holy books, for crossing themselves with the two-fingered sign in accordance with apostolic tradition, and for saying the Jesus Prayer as the ancient holy Church had established: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on us.” In conclusion, the petitioners tearfully pleaded with the patriarch:

“End the church turmoil, resolve the doubts of Christian souls, correct the Church of God, cast out the newly introduced scandals, unite the flock of Christ that has been torn apart, so that the blood of Christians may no longer be shed in vain.”

The petitioners requested that a council be convened, where all the errors of the new books might be thoroughly examined. Ioakim kept postponing the convocation of such a council. But it was finally held on July 5, 1682. On that day, the whole Kremlin square was filled with people. They expected that the patriarch and the bishops would come out onto the square and that a public disputation on the faith would take place there. However, the elected representatives from the petitioners were instead summoned to the Faceted Chamber, where the entire royal synclitus had gathered, headed by Princess Sophia, the patriarch, bishops, and other clergy. Very few common people managed to make it into the chamber. The Nikonian clergy behaved noisily and provocatively. No sooner had Priest Nikita Dobrynin entered the chamber than one of the Nikonian priests seized him by the hair. Such a beginning to the disputation promised nothing good.

As soon as the representatives entered the chamber and bowed to the ground before Tsarina Natalya Kirillovna and the princesses, Patriarch Ioakim asked them:

“What do you demand from us?”

Priest Nikita replied:

“We have come to ask for the correction of the Orthodox Christian faith, that the Church of God may be in peace and unity, and not in discord and turmoil.”

The representatives submitted the petition, in which the errors of the new books were outlined. The reading of the petition began. But Princess Sophia, already captivated by Western enchantments and of one mind with Ioakim, frequently interrupted the reading and entered into debate with the representatives. The patriarch and bishops remained silent, while the boyars merely laughed at their lack of response and spiritual powerlessness.

The “disputation” ended with Princess Sophia dismissing the council, announcing that it would reconvene on Friday (July 7)¹¹⁶.

With rejoicing and singing, the exulting people dispersed to their homes. They naïvely believed that the time had come for the full restoration of true piety. But in this they were bitterly deceived. No second assembly to consider the questions of the faith ever took place. Sophia—proud, domineering, and self-loving—decisively took her stand in defense of the new faith: to grant triumph to the old faith seemed to her an affront and humiliation of royal majesty¹¹⁷. Ioakim had convinced her that rulers must command and decree, and the people must only listen and obey. A return to the old faith would have been a triumph of the people’s will, a victory of popular faith and desire. The cunning and calculating princess managed to win over a significant portion of the streltsy, plying them with vodka and bribing them with money. By her order, Priest Dobrynin was seized and executed on Red Square in Moscow by beheading, which took place on July 11, 1682. Thus ended the confessor’s life of one of the greatest defenders of ancient piety, the most learned pastor of his time and a remarkable writer. He left behind his Refutations of Nikonianism, which to this day have not been rebutted by the Nikonians. A sorrowful fate also befell the other representatives and petitioners: they were scattered to various monasteries in confinement. Soon, Prince Khovansky was also put to death.

Thus did the new faith triumph—first in Moscow, and then throughout the entire state—fearsome in its cruelty, bloody in its persecutions of Old-Orthodox Christians, treacherous in its spirit and orientation, and fully transformed into a state religion demanding nothing but unquestioning and complete obedience.

The Church’s Flight into the Wilderness and Forests #

The condition of the Christian Church in seventeenth-century Russia was in many ways similar to that of the Christians in the Roman Empire during the first centuries of Christianity. Just as then, Christians—suffering fierce persecutions from pagan authorities—were forced to hide in catacombs (specially constructed underground chambers), in caves, and in country refuges, so too the Russian people—Orthodox Christians of the seventeenth century—were compelled to flee into deserts and forests, into mountains and dens, hiding from persecution by both state and ecclesiastical authorities.

At the insistence of Patriarch Ioakim of Moscow¹¹⁸. Princess Sophia in 1685 issued twelve harsh articles against the people of ancient piety, which have justly gone down in history as the “draconian articles.” In them, the followers of the ancient Russian Church—that is, the Old Believers—were labeled “schismatics,” “thieves,” and enemies of the Church, and were sentenced to the most terrible punishments. Those who spread the old faith were to be tortured and burned in a log cell, and their ashes scattered; those who secretly held the ancient faith were to be mercilessly flogged with the knout and exiled to remote regions. Even those among the faithful who showed the slightest kindness to persecuted Christians—offering them food or even a drink of water—were to be beaten with knouts and rods. People who merely gave shelter to the persecuted were likewise to be flogged and exiled. All property belonging to Old Believers—homes, estates, lands, shops, trades, and factories—was to be confiscated and assigned to the “great sovereigns.”

Only a total renunciation of the old faith and slavish obedience to every irrational command of the authorities could save Old-Orthodox Christians from these horrific persecutions, from ruin, and from death. All Russians were required, under threat of being burned alive in a log cell, to believe not as the ancient Church had established, but as the new authorities decreed. Among Sophia’s decrees was one article from which even apostasy and total submission to the authorities could not save. It read: anyone who re-baptizes those Old Believers (called “schismatics”) who were baptized in the new (state-sanctioned) Church—even if he repents, submits to the new Church, has a spiritual father, and sincerely wishes to receive communion—is, after confession and communion, still “to be executed without any mercy”¹¹⁹.

These truly draconian and merciless articles, and the sadistic zeal with which they were enforced, struck terror across all the Russian land. The government ruthlessly hunted down people of the old faith: everywhere log cells and pyres blazed, and hundreds and thousands of innocent victims—tortured Christians—were burned. The tongues of those who preached or merely confessed the old faith were cut out, their heads were struck off, their ribs broken with pincers, they were buried alive up to the neck, broken on the wheel, quartered, had their tendons torn out… Prisons, exile-monasteries, dungeons, and other penal places overflowed with wretched sufferers for the holy Old-Orthodox faith. The clergy and civil authorities, with devilish cruelty, destroyed their own blood—Russian people—for their fidelity to the covenants and traditions of Holy Rus’ and Christ’s Church. None were spared: men, women, even children were killed.

The great and long-suffering martyrs—Russian Orthodox Christians—revealed to the world an extraordinary strength of spirit during this dreadful time of persecution. Many of them abandoned the true faith—though insincerely—unable to endure the brutal tortures and inhuman torments. Yet many others went to their deaths boldly, fearlessly, and even joyfully. There were cases when even children entered the fiery flames without trembling, peacefully. Once, fourteen men and women were led to an already tarred log cell for execution. Among them was a nine-year-old girl who had been imprisoned alongside the adults. All felt pity for her, and the archbishop’s bailiffs in charge of the execution ordered the child to be held back. The log cell was already burning. The girl struggled to join her own, paying no attention to the coaxing and entreaties of the onlookers. “We’ll take you as our daughter,” the crowd tried to comfort her. But still she strained to join those who burned within the cell. Then, hoping to frighten her, the ones holding and persuading her let her go, saying: “Ah, you will not listen? Then go into the fire, but make sure not to close your eyes.” The girl, having crossed herself three times, threw herself into the fire and was consumed¹²⁰.

The vast majority of the persecuted Christians fled into the wilderness, into forests, into mountains, dens, across impassable bogs, to the “end of the earth.” Thus was fulfilled the apocalyptic prophecy: “The Church shall flee into the wilderness”¹²¹. There, Christians made for themselves such shelters and refuges as they could. But even there, the authorities sought them out, destroyed and burned their dwellings, and brought them to the cities to appear before the ecclesiastical authorities; if they would not renounce their faith, they were tortured and put to death. Four years after Sophia’s decrees were enacted, Patriarch Ioakim issued a new edict: “Take strict care that schismatics” (as he called the Old Believers) “do not live in the districts and forests; and wherever they are discovered—exile them, destroy their shelters, sell their property, and send the money to Moscow.”

Everywhere, true Christians were persecuted—they were allowed to live neither in deserts nor in forests, nor beyond the impassable swamps—nowhere in their native land. What then were they to do? Where could they go? The Christians of ancient piety did not fear death—many of them went to it quite willingly and joyfully. But they sorrowed greatly that many Christians, unable to endure the monstrous tortures, renounced the holy faith and thereby perished in soul. They were driven to apostasy through tortures such as these: they were either slowly burned alive, or had their tendons pulled out, or first had one hand cut off, then the other, then one leg, and finally the other leg (in other words, they were quartered); they were suspended by their ribs from ceilings or special crossbars and left hanging for long periods—until they renounced the faith or died; they were hung by arms twisted behind their backs, broken on the wheel, buried alive up to the neck; they were tortured and tormented by every other murderous method imaginable. Who could endure such draconian torments? To escape them—and to preserve their faith—many Russians were compelled to burn themselves alive.

“There is no place left,” they said, “except to flee into fire or water.” In many places where persecutors, inquisitors, and torturers were expected, log cells were prepared in advance for self-immolation, or special huts, chapels, and churches were adapted for this purpose—tarred and covered with straw. As soon as word came that inquisitors were approaching, the people would lock themselves inside the prepared structure and, upon the persecutors’ arrival, would declare: “Leave us alone, or we will burn ourselves.” There were cases when the persecutors withdrew—and the people were spared from self-immolation. But in most cases, the persecuted carried out their threats. People burned by the hundreds and thousands at a time. Such was the unimaginably dreadful time endured by the pious Russian people. Many of them expected the end of the world; some, having donned burial shrouds, lay down in coffins ahead of time, awaiting the archangel’s trumpet from heaven announcing the Second Coming of Christ.

To such a degree of desperation were the pious Christians driven by relentless persecution, cruel tortures, and martyrdoms.

Unending Persecutions #

Old Belief endured persecution for more than two and a half centuries. The intensity of the persecutions would at times lessen, then flare up again, but they never entirely ceased. Tsar Peter I proclaimed religious tolerance in the state, and under its protection, many different religions flourished in Russia: Roman Catholicism, Protestantism, Islam, Judaism, even paganism. Only the Old Believers were denied freedom in their own homeland—the very country they had helped to build. During the reign of Peter, they were no longer burned en masse, but individual cases of burning and other executions were still common.

Peter allowed Old Believers to live openly in towns and villages—but imposed upon them a double tax: for example, if a follower of the new (official) faith paid five rubles in taxes, an Old Believer was charged ten. In addition, a fee of fifty rubles a year was imposed on every man for wearing a beard. Old Believers were also forced to pay levies in favor of the clergy of the new-ritualist Church. They were fined even for allowing their own priests to perform sacraments. In short, Old Believers became a source of revenue both for the state and for the clergy. They bore on their shoulders the immense burdens of the entire empire. Yet for all this, they enjoyed no rights whatsoever: they were forbidden to occupy any government or public office; they were not even allowed to serve as witnesses in court against members of the “Orthodox” (i.e., new-ritualist) Church, even if the latter were on trial for theft, murder, or other grave crimes.

Old Believers were ordered to wear special clothing: men were to wear a single-breasted coat with a flat collar and a homespun zipun with a stiff visor made of red cloth; women were to wear horned caps and the same kind of zipun with a red visor. It was mockery and humiliation—an attempt to make the pious Russian people a laughingstock.

Those Old Believers who were registered for the double tax were known as the “registered.” But the vast majority were “unregistered”: they lived in secret, hiding from the authorities. Yet this condition was even more ruinous, for it was exceedingly dangerous. They were constantly sought out and exiled to penal labor camps. Moreover, the registered Old Believers themselves were obliged to search for the unregistered. The government forced them to become betrayers of their own fathers and mothers, their brothers and sisters. To multiply the pretexts for persecuting Old Believers, Peter even ordered that false accusations be invented against them. The clergy became ever more embittered and insistent, demanding the complete extermination of the Old Believers as enemies of the Church and the state—even though they were the most faithful children of the holy, truly Orthodox Church and the most loyal sons of their native land¹²².

To more effectively combat Old Belief, the higher clergy of the dominant Church fabricated a false act of a nonexistent council against a fictitious heretic named Martin the Armenian. In this forged act, it was claimed that five hundred years before Patriarch Nikon, a heretic named Martin allegedly appeared in Kiev, teaching all the same rites, customs, and practices held by the Old Believers: the two-fingered sign of the cross, the double alleluia, procession during the salted walking, and so on. A supposed council in Kiev allegedly anathematized this fictitious heretic for his teachings—especially for the two-fingered sign. The Council of Constantinople was also said to have cursed him. The authors of the forged act pronounced dozens of the most terrible anathemas upon poor Martin. Finally, they even claimed to have burned him alive.

Emperor Peter himself took part in the creation of this fraud, as did the Holy Governing Synod he established, which repeatedly blessed the publication of this forgery. The entire Russian people were strictly ordered to believe this fabrication as undeniable truth—even after it was scientifically exposed and refuted by Old Believer writers. The forged act was even commanded to be read during church services instead of the Prologue. The sensible Russian people, of course, could not bring themselves to believe this grotesque and terrifying fable elevated to a dogma of the faith. But it was dangerous even not to believe, since a royal decree had been issued to burn alive anyone who denied this forgery¹²³.

During the reign of Peter I, the authorities—primarily the ecclesiastical ones—destroyed Old Believer sketes, monasteries, and other religious refuges, confiscated their property, and relentlessly persecuted the people of the old faith. Life was exceedingly hard for Russian Old-Orthodox Christians under this tsar.

They remained in the same condition under Peter’s successors. Only during the reign of Empress Catherine II (1762–1796) did the Old Believers begin to breathe somewhat more freely. Isolated cases of persecution still occurred, however, even during her rule. Under Alexander I (1801–1825), during the first half of his reign, the government was tolerant toward the Old Believers, but by the end of his reign began to issue decrees that restricted the religious life of Old Believers.

Under Emperor Nicholas I, Old Belief was harshly persecuted (1825–1855). Only under Emperor Nicholas II (from the end of 1905 onward) did Old Believers gain the opportunity to openly organize their church life in their native land: to build churches and monasteries, conduct processions, ring church bells, form communities, open schools, and the like. Yet even under this tsar, Old Believers were not granted full religious freedom: their clergy were not recognized, criminal code articles punishing the conversion of new-ritualists to Old Belief were not repealed, they were not allowed to preach their faith, Old Believer teachers were not permitted to teach in state schools, and so forth. Other restrictions remained as well. Even during the World War (with Germany), Old Believers were not allowed to sit for examinations for reserve officer (ensign) commissions and had to file special petitions for this purpose—while people of other religions and entirely non-Russian nationalities (French, German, Polish, Armenian, Georgian, Lithuanian, etc.) had free access to all military and civil ranks, up to and including general and ministerial positions.

Church Governance #

The Ancient Orthodox (Old Believer) Church, from the time of the Schism, was deprived—due to the most severe persecutions—of the opportunity to develop in a normal manner her internal spiritual life and sacred hierarchical governance. Even ordinary divine services were often forced to be celebrated not in churches, nor in houses, but simply in forests and slums. Moreover, the Church was deprived of her most essential leaders—bishops. Had the bishops remained faithful to her, it would have been easier for the Church to endure all the afflictions and privations. Around the bishops the flock might have gathered more firmly and confidently, receiving from them comfort and instruction. But it pleased God to send upon His holy Church the most grievous trials, that He might manifest her strength and steadfastness¹²⁴. Deprived of her elder leaders—the bishops—the Church, nevertheless, with the help of God, was able to preserve herself from falling and from going astray¹²⁵.

The Russian Church had never had a great number of bishops; at most, it possessed fifteen hierarchs, and under Nikon their number was even fewer. Of these, only one bishop, Pavel of Kolomna, boldly and courageously rose to denounce Nikon, for which he was given over to a martyr’s death. The rest of the hierarchs, fearing Pavel’s fate, were compelled to keep silence. And indeed, they were not capable of defending the Church. “He knows no Scripture, the fool, not a whit,” said Archpriest Avvakum of one of them—the most prominent—Pavel, Metropolitan of Krutitsy. And of the others he adds, “What can come of them? Upon them, as upon donkeys, those heretics ride—those bishops”¹²⁶.

Only three hierarchs are known to have disagreed with Nikon’s innovations and served according to the old books: Macarius, Metropolitan of Novgorod; Markell, Archbishop of Vologda; and Alexander, Bishop of Vyatka. But the first two died before the council of 1667, at which the entire ancient Russian pious Church was anathematized; and the last, out of fear, submitted to the council. Later, he left his see, withdrew into the wilderness, and returned to the old ways, but he did not live to see the final apostasy of the hierarchy and secular authorities from the ancient Russian Church. He died in 1679.

Thus, the holy Church was left without any bishops of like mind—having only priests and deacons. Of these lower clerical ranks, however, there were quite many: priests were numbered by the thousands across all of Russia. They continued to serve according to the old service books and were united in spirit with their flocks. The fierce persecutions forced very many of them to accept the new books, for clergymen were sent to penal servitude, and mercilessly beaten with rods merely for serving the Divine Liturgy according to the old books—or even for the sole reason that they celebrated the Divine Liturgy upon seven prosphora¹²⁷, which bore the seal of the eight-pointed cross and the inscription: “Behold the Lamb of God, who taketh away the sin of the world.” Priests were exiled to penal servitude even for simply sheltering Old Believers. In one diocese alone—that of Nizhny Novgorod—entire hundreds of such priests were destroyed. The same happened in other dioceses as well¹²⁸.

At that time, while the upper ranks of the new church were increasingly departing from ancient Russian Orthodoxy—becoming infected with Latinism and poisoned by all manner of Western influences—the lower ranks were being filled with people of the old piety and of the Russian national spirit. These remained in their parishes, did not flee, did not depart from anything, and continued to be Old Believers; they were merely accounted as part of the new church and subject to Nikonian bishops. Entire dioceses of such “Nikonites” even remained two-fingered signers, chiefly in the central provinces: Moscow, Kaluga, Vladimir, and Smolensk. But many such parishes, under the threat of persecution, were compelled to accept both the three-fingered sign and the new books, while nonetheless preserving an Old Believer spirit. Their environment was also filled with those Old Believers who, unable to endure torture, various torments, and all kinds of privations, went over to Nikonianism. Naturally, they could not in spirit or conscience become Nikonians; they remained inwardly true Old Believers, only outwardly counted among the “Orthodox.” It is understandable that the priests in these lower parishes were predominantly of the Old Believer type, especially in those times when candidates for the priesthood were chosen by the parishes themselves.

According to Church canons, priests must be under the authority of their bishops. But these same canons require priests to separate from their bishops if the latter have fallen into error, preach heresy, or have caused a schism in the Church. The priests who did not submit to Nikon and the other hierarchs who betrayed the holy Church acted in a completely lawful and fully canonical manner. They had the right to perform divine services, sacraments, and all spiritual ministrations without them and even against their will. Their actions were all the more lawful because on their side, and suffering with them for ancient piety, stood one bishop—Pavel of Kolomna. His martyrdom alone, even without any other decrees, testified that he had blessed and sanctified their sacred actions for all the ages to come.

But he was unable to ordain a successor, and priests do not have the right to perform ordinations of any kind—that is the exclusive right of a bishop. The priests of the old, pre-Nikonian ordination could not live forever; they gradually died out. What then was to be done? Where were new priests to be obtained? This question was raised by life itself soon after the Schism had occurred, and at that very time it was resolved on the basis of the Church’s canons (rules).

Even in the earlier centuries of the Christian Church, such questions would arise. There were instances when local churches were deprived of all their bishops due to the latter having fallen into heresy (error). And yet, within these heretical communities, they continued to perform sacred rites, ordaining bishops, priests, and other clergy. The ecumenical and local councils of the Orthodox Church decreed that such clergy, ordained within heresy, should be received into the Church in their clerical rank, provided they renounced their errors—that is, if someone had been ordained to the episcopate, he was to remain a bishop; if to the priesthood, a priest; and so on¹²⁹. The holy councils further decreed that special emissaries should be sent to persuade and entreat heretical clergy to abandon the heretical body and unite themselves to the true Church of Christ¹³⁰.

Guided by these ancient conciliar canons, the Old Believer Church resolved to receive into her fold clergy ordained in the New Rite Church, maintaining them in their existing rank. Many clergy of the old spirit, especially from the lower ranks, gladly and sincerely came into the Old Belief. A great number of them suffered greatly, for they were cruelly persecuted. The government declared them “runaways,” and in truth they were in constant flight, hiding from persecution and oppression.

The Old Believer Church has always had a sufficient number of priests, with the exception of the reign of Nicholas Pavlovich, when that emperor resolved, at any cost, to eradicate the Old Believer priesthood. He did not succeed in this, but during that time the number of priests greatly declined compared to all preceding periods.

The priests of the Old Believer Church administered all the sacraments and services appropriate to their office: they baptized, chrismated, heard confessions, gave communion, performed marriages, anointed the sick, buried the dead, and so forth. They did not possess the authority to consecrate chrism—this power belongs to the bishop. Yet even this difficulty was resolved according to ancient Church practice. The priests possessed a great supply of chrism consecrated by former patriarchs; even chrism from Patriarch Filaret had been preserved. But over time the supply diminished, and so it began to be diluted with blessed oil, which is permitted in cases of necessity by the Church’s canons¹³¹. In the first centuries of Christianity, laying on of hands was sometimes used in place of chrismation for the baptized or those joining the Church.

Priests do not have the right to consecrate churches (temples) if there is no antimins¹³². But within the Old Believer Church, ancient antimins consecrated by pious bishops have been preserved. On these, Old Believer priests have consecrated churches and celebrated the Divine Liturgy.

Difficult and complex questions that arose within the Old Belief were resolved conciliarily—by the common voice of the whole Church. At councils would gather abbots of monasteries, hieromonks, parish priests, venerable elders (monastics), and lay delegates from parishes—mainly men learned in the Holy Scriptures and the canons of the Church. On occasion, devout nuns would also participate in the conciliar deliberations. The councils encompassed the whole of church governance, established order and decorum in the churches, determined precedence among the clergy, examined their conduct, resolved all doubts and misunderstandings, and the like.

Such is the life of the Church—truly conciliar, of the whole people, and universal.

Division within the Old Belief #

Even the conciliar principle within the Old Believer Church was not sufficient to preserve her from internal division. Signs of it appeared even at the very beginning of the schism. The cause of this division lay chiefly in the dreadful persecutions, as well as in external events. Nikon’s reform—and its main driving force, namely the murders, cruelties, and persecutions—stirred in the minds of the mystically inclined people of that time all manner of anxieties and unrest. Many Christians began to think that the end times had arrived, and that the end of the world was near.

This thought was further strengthened by other events. In 1654, a plague swept through Russia: many cities were left desolate, the survivors scattered in all directions, there was no one to bury the dead, and the corpses decayed, poisoning the air with stench and spreading the disease even further. Some villages perished entirely. The consequence of this calamity was yet another misfortune: the fields were left unsown. From this arose famine in the land, and prices for everything soared to unprecedented heights. Then came harsh frosts, terrible storms, fields were beaten down with hail, and signs appeared in the heavens: blood-red columns moved across the sky, a great star with a broom-like tail (a comet) appeared, and the sun was darkened. All this so deeply affected the souls of believing people that many of them saw in these fearful phenomena the beginning of the dread Judgment of God. The people spent entire nights in prayer; women and children wept ceaselessly; some Christians lay down in coffins, awaiting the second coming of Christ.

But since, according to prophetic revelation, the Antichrist must appear before the end of the world, many Christians of that time came to see in the person of Patriarch Nikon the very Antichrist himself, finding in Nikon not a few of the signs ascribed to the Antichrist. The Antichrist, according to Scripture, would be a ruthless persecutor of true Christians—Nikon bore the title of “Great Sovereign.” The Antichrist, according to the prophecy of the Holy Fathers, would reign in Jerusalem—Nikon gave the monastery he built near Moscow the name “New Jerusalem.” In Nikon and in his deeds, people found other traits as well corresponding to the final Antichrist who was to appear before the end of the world.

But the most renowned pastors of that time—those who had themselves suffered more than any from the persecutions, and first of all from Nikon himself—nevertheless rejected such an opinion of him. They recognized him only as a forerunner of the Antichrist, not the Antichrist himself. The deacon Feodor of the Annunciation Cathedral in Moscow, well-versed in the Scriptures, wrote from imprisonment: “The Antichrist himself is not yet; we neither see him nor hear him—do not be terrified. As for the thought that Nikon is the very Antichrist—no, brethren, no. We must bear witness to the truth even concerning our enemy. The Antichrist will be a king, not a patriarch. Nikon is not himself the Antichrist, but his near forerunner.” The priest Lazar, another sufferer, spoke of Nikon in the same way. And the fiery archpriest Avvakum wrote: “Nikon is not the final Antichrist, just a whelp of the Antichrists. Be not deceived about the last day and the Antichrist: he has not yet come”¹³³.

When Nikon fled from the patriarchal throne, was condemned, and reduced by his own followers to a simple monk, made powerless and voiceless in exile, it became clear to all that he was not that final Antichrist who is to appear before the second coming of Christ, but simply a “whelp,” as Avvakum aptly called him.

Yet since even after Nikon, the persecutions against Christians did not cease, many among the people continued to believe that the end times had indeed come. So also in the early centuries of Christianity, during the harshest persecutions, many Christians believed that the end of the world was at hand and identified the Roman emperor Nero as the Antichrist. Some Old Believers began to think that the Russian emperor Peter I was the final Antichrist; even many adherents of the new church thought so as well¹³⁴. Of course, this opinion too was mistaken. After Peter, more than two centuries have passed, and the world still exists.

But once the idea of the Antichrist’s reign had taken deep root in the popular consciousness, and had been constantly reinforced by the unending persecutions of those dark times, it proved difficult to uproot. A new belief arose—that the Antichrist must be understood spiritually: that there would be no Antichrist as a particular individual. The doctrine of the Antichrist, according to this view, was itself a false teaching, an impious delusion, just as all the followers of that teaching were deluded. The Antichrist became a kind of collective figure, existing from ancient times, from the very age of the apostles, for even then false teachings had arisen, and followers thereof, and fearsome persecutions, and cruel tyrants of Christians.

This new doctrine of such a conciliar and age-spanning Antichrist, and of his reign in the world, gave rise within the Old Belief to division. Perhaps it would not have occurred had the Old Believers at the outset possessed the ability to gather together to discuss the ecclesiastical questions arising and to reach unity of thought and understanding. But they were forced to hide in forests and deserts, to live amidst all manner of deprivation, calamity, and hardship, in constant fear and flight. They were therefore unable to prevent division within their native Church.

Together with the new idea of the Antichrist, a new teaching concerning the priesthood arose. Some Old Believers began to assert that the priesthood had come to a final and irreparable end, for there were no longer any true priests—only servants of Antichrist. One could, therefore, live without priests. Thus there arose within the Old Believer environment the priestless movement (bezpopovstvo).

Priestless Old Belief (Bespopovstvo) #

The belief that all priesthood had perished and been abolished was reproved even by the hieromartyr Avvakum. With indignation, he wrote to one such preacher: “Thou hast wandered, friend, into the depths of evil—arise! For not even the devil himself can abolish the sacrament of the priesthood, nor can the Antichrist with his children. The Master said to His disciples: ‘Lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world.’ Do not be deceived, child. Though the priesthood may be driven out, yet it shall not utterly perish”¹³⁵. But these compelling words of the great sufferer could not sober all those who held unsound beliefs: his fervent letters and exhortations did not reach everyone. Moreover, the unending persecutions continued to fortify terror and the expectation of the world’s end in the popular imagination.

Priests of the old ordination (from before the schism) lived until the beginning of the 18th century—that is, they were still alive and serving in the Ancient Orthodox Church even after the Council of 1667, for nearly forty more years. These priests were acknowledged by and served all Old Believers. Thus, at that time, bespopovstvo (priestlessness) did not yet exist in fact. It emerged only after the death of the priests ordained before the schism—that is, already in the 18th century.

Those Old Believers who rejected priests of new ordination and were left entirely without clergy came to be called bespopovtsy, or priestless believers. They formed the bespopovstvo movement or society.

The bespopovtsy resolved that not only the priesthood, but even baptism could not be accepted from the followers of Nikon (the New Rite Church). They established the practice of re-baptizing all who came to them; hence, bespopovtsy are also called rebaptizers (pokreschevantsy or perekreschevantsy).

Left without clergy, the bespopovtsy were likewise deprived of the other church sacraments: Holy Communion, Chrismation, Matrimony, and Unction. As for the remaining two sacraments—Baptism and Confession—these began to be performed first by ordinary laymen and later by specially chosen individuals, who also led the church services. Over time, the bespopovtsy formed a special class of preceptors (nastavniki), a kind of hierarchy with the authority to perform sacred functions.

Concerning the question of marriage, the bespopovtsy experienced division. At first, they firmly held the view that the sacrament of matrimony could no longer exist, since it ought to be performed only by priests, who, according to the belief of the bespopovtsy, no longer existed. Therefore, there was no one left to perform the sacrament, and thus all were to live in celibacy. Moreover—the end of the world was at hand. Why then should people marry? In 1694, a bespopovtsy council convened in Novgorod, at which matrimonial union was completely rejected. The followers of this council began to be called bezbrachniki (celibates). They are also known as Feodoseyevtsy, after the name of their most prominent preacher and founder of celibacy, Feodosiy Vasilyev. The Feodoseyevtsy established in 1771 the famous Preobrazhenskoye Cemetery in Moscow.

Complete and pure celibacy could not take firm root among the bespopovtsy; it is conceivable only in monasteries and deserts, among strict ascetics. Those living in the world began to fall into fornication. A portion of the bespopovtsy came to the conclusion that the sacrament of matrimony could be performed by a layman. These bespopovtsy became known as brachniki (those who permit marriage). Among them, marriages began to be performed by chosen but unordained nastavniki.

Apart from the perekreschevantsy, there exists within bespopovstvo a distinct group known as the Netovtsy. The Netovtsy have no churches, they do not serve Matins, Hours, or Vespers—they have nothing of the sort. Hence their name: Netovtsy (from net, meaning “there is not”). They call themselves Spasovtsy (“of the Savior”), because, as they say, they rely on the Savior alone. They differ from all other bespopovtsy chiefly in that they do not rebaptize those baptized in the New Rite Church—they receive them as they are, with the same baptism, while rejecting its priesthood.

The doctrine of the reign of Antichrist in the world gave rise to a special bespopovtsy faction—the Stranniki or Beguny (“Wanderers” or “Fugitives”). The bespopovtsy of this persuasion maintain that, since Antichrist reigns in the world, it is no longer possible for true Christians to live in it. One must flee the world, hide from the Antichrist, and live as a wanderer. The Stranniki do not possess passports, reject military service, oaths, taxes; some among them even reject the use of money—these are called bezdenezhniki (“moneyless ones”).

There are other subdivisions within bespopovstvo as well, but they are insignificant and nearly extinct.

Old Believers Abroad #

“Abroad” means outside of Russia, beyond her borders. In our time, it is difficult to point to even a single kingdom or country where there are no Old Believers at all: they are scattered across the entire globe. The flight of devout Russian people began shortly after the Council of 1667, which dogmatically established and codified the use of all manner of violence and persecution against them—cruel executions and killings. This flight intensified especially during the reign of Sophia and the patriarchate of Ioakim, when in Russia it became impossible for Russian people to preserve their Orthodox faith not only in cities and villages, but even in forests and deserts. “The schism,” as Church historian Macarius, Metropolitan of Moscow, calls ancient Orthodoxy, “was decisively banned in Russia, and no one in cities or villages dared openly to hold to it. Therefore, the schismatics either concealed their faith or fled into the deserts and forests, where they made for themselves shelters. But even there they were sought out, their dwellings destroyed, and they themselves were brought before ecclesiastical authorities for persuasion, and, if they remained unrepentant, handed over to the civil courts and often to death”¹³⁶.

This hopeless situation compelled many Christians of that time to save their holy faith and souls through acts of self-immolation. Others, however, found a different path: they fled to neighboring countries—Poland, Lithuania, Sweden, Prussia, Turkey, and even to China and Japan, where they enjoyed complete freedom of religion and were not persecuted for their faith. The scale of this flight can be understood from a report of the Senate during the reign of Peter I: according to Senate records, at that time over 900,000 Russians were living in flight. In relation to the overall population of Russia at the time, this constituted ten percent, and in regard to the strictly Russian population, the percentage was even higher. Neither Poles, nor Germans, nor Tatars, nor other ethnic minorities, nor even the Jews were fleeing Russia then, for they were not persecuted nor oppressed in any way. It was only Russians who were persecuted and destroyed—those most devoted to Holy Rus’, the salt and stronghold of the Russian Land.

Two centuries later, during the Bolshevik destruction of Russia, this flight of Russian citizens abroad was repeated. But now the number of refugees amounted to only one percent of Russia’s population, and those who fled were not only Russians, and they fled under entirely different circumstances: with armed forces, fighting the enemy, making use of railways, warships, passenger steamers, and so on, with long pauses and often with victories over their pursuers. Whereas in the days of Sophia, Peter I, Anna, and Nicholas I, it was a different kind of flight—truly Christian and authentically evangelical, following the example of Christ Himself and His holy apostles. One can only imagine what a dreadful devastation of Russia that was.

In foreign lands, the Old Believers settled in cohesive communities. They rarely made use of existing cities, preferring instead to build their own villages, living apart, according to their own customs and way of life, with their own rules, habits, and dress. Even now, two hundred years later, they are easily distinguishable from other ethnic groups, being entirely typical of Russian people from centuries past.

Today, Old Believers live in cohesive communities in Romania, in Moldova, and in Dobruja, as well as in Bukovina. Many are also found in Bessarabia. In earlier times, all of this was under Turkish rule—it was to Turkey that the Old Believers initially fled. The Turkish authorities allowed them to build churches, monasteries, and sketes, to celebrate divine services openly and freely, to ring church bells, and to place crosses upon their churches—privileges that were forbidden to them in Russia until 1905.

Along the Danube, Old Believers populate the cities of Izmail, Vilkovo, Nova Kiliya, Muravlevka, and Zhebryany, as well as such large villages as the two Nekrasovkas—Old and New—and especially the large village of Kunichi. They have large parishes in Kishinev, Bender, Beltsy, Khotin, in both Old and New Grubno, and in other locations. But in June 1940, all of Bessarabia was ceded to Soviet Russia. Also ceded was Northern Bukovina, where the famous Old Believer Metropolia of Belaya Krinitsa is located, which until 1918 had been part of Austria, then Romania, and finally fell under the yoke of Bolshevik power.

Along the Danube in Dobruja there are entire Old Believer villages: Kamen, Sarikon, Zhurilovka; further inland: Slava Rusa, Slava Cherkesska, Noven’koye. Old Believers are also found in the towns of Tulcea and Sulina. Near Slava Rusa, in Tulcea County, there are two Old Believer monasteries—one for men and one for women—about three versts apart. In Moldova, Old Believer communities are found in Iasi (the capital), Vaslui, Roman, Piatra Neamt, Târgu Frumos, Botoșani, and Manuilovka. Here too there are two monasteries—male and female. Old Believer parishes also exist in the Danube cities of Galați and Brăila; near the latter is a large village, Pisque, entirely inhabited by Old Believers and containing three parishes. There are also Old Believers in Bucharest. A sizable population is found in Bukovina—in Suceava, Rădăuți, Climăuți, Socolinți, and other places.

In present-day Turkey, Old Believers are found in only one village—Mainosy, in Anatolia, near the Black Sea. In the last century, there were even Old Believers in Africa, on the Nile near Cairo, where there was an Old Believer skete. Even in distant Manchuria there are Old Believer parishes; in 1940, an Old Believer diocese was established there, comprising Old Believers living in China, America (Canada), and Australia.

In France, there is an Old Believer parish only in Paris, though in other cities throughout France many Old Believers live as scattered families. All the locations mentioned are populated by popovtsy (priestly Old Believers). The bespopovtsy (priestless Old Believers), on the other hand, are found abroad chiefly in Poland (in the parts now annexed by Soviet Russia), as well as in Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia—likewise now Sovietized—and in Prussia (Germany). Only a very small number of bespopovtsy are found in Romania¹³⁷.

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