Bishop Pavel of Kolomna: 366 Years Since His Martyrdom #
Dimitry Urushev
Bishop Pavel of Kolomna is one of the most significant figures in Russian spiritual history of the 17th century. Alas, he was not fortunate. His name failed to attract the attention of scholars. He remained in the shadow of his more famous contemporaries—Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich, Patriarch Nikon, and Archpriest Avvakum.
Pavel and Nikon #
Bishop Pavel was remembered only by Old Believer scribes. It is no accident that the renowned 18th-century Old Believer writer Simeon Denisov began his book The Russian Vineyard—a collection of legends about martyrs for the old faith—with the story of Pavel. He began most solemnly:
“The leader of that goodly host was not of common folk, nor from the peasant estate, but a shepherd of Christ’s flock, a vigilant guardian of church virtue, a trumpet of gold-forged piety.”
Secular scholars took notice of Pavel of Kolomna only in the 19th century. The first to do so was the historian Mikhail Pogodin. In 1854, in one of the issues of the journal Moskvityanin, he published an article titled A Remark on the Homeland of Patriarch Nikon and His Opponents. In it, Pogodin urged young scholars:
“How much of importance and benefit for scholarship remains to be done, if one would become acquainted with the written literature and diligently gather information about our historical figures. What is known in general circulation about someone like… Bishop Pavel?”
Half a century passed. The only scholar to respond to that call was historian Sergei Belokurov. In 1905, he compiled and published two volumes titled Tales of Pavel, Bishop of Kolomna. However, Belokurov did not publish authentic historical documents, but rather hagiographical tales, far removed from historical reality.
Another 33 years passed. And in 1938, the French scholar Pierre Pascal released his book Archpriest Avvakum and the Beginning of the Schism. For the first time, Pavel of Kolomna was presented not as a figure of pious legend but as a living man of flesh and blood. The French historian helped the Russian bishop find his voice. And if we were to hear it, Pavel would begin his account as follows:
“My birth was in the lands of Nizhny Novgorod.”
This is how Archpriest Avvakum famously begins his Life. And Bishop Pavel might have said the same. According to Pascal, he was born “in the hills”—on the right bank of the Volga, in the village of Kolychevo, which stood on the Sundovik River.
We do not know the exact date of the bishop’s birth. But it can be assumed he was a contemporary of Nikon—that is, born in 1605. Pascal also tells us the name of the future bishop’s father—“a good priest named Ivan.”
According to Pascal, Priest Ivan taught literacy to Nikita Minin, the son of a Mordvin peasant from the neighboring village of Veldemanovo—who would later become Patriarch Nikon. In his Life, it is written that he was “given over to the study of the Divine Scriptures,” and, having left “the house of his father,” lived for a time with his teacher. If Nikita indeed studied with the priest from Kolychevo and lived in his house, one may suppose that the future hierarchs were friends from childhood. Who would have imagined that they would one day become bitter adversaries?
From Kolychevo, Priest Ivan moved with his family downstream along the Sundovik to the village of Kirikovo, where he continued his priestly ministry. Kirikovo was located not far from the large trading village of Lyskovo, situated on the Volga.
It was here that Pavel spent his adolescence and youth. From “the hills,” the future bishop crossed to the left bank of the Volga—“into the forests.” We encounter Pavel in the Makaryev Monastery on the Yellow Waters. The ancient Zheltovodsky Monastery, founded by Saint Macarius in the 15th century, had been destroyed by the Tatars and only revived in 1620. The monastery soon became one of the foremost centers of spiritual and cultural life in the Volga region. Among its brotherhood, we find many key figures of 17th-century ecclesiastical history.
It was to the Makaryev Monastery that the young Nikita Minin fled from his cruel stepmother. After making a small monetary contribution, he lived there for a time but was later brought back home by his father. Among those tonsured in the Zheltovodsky Monastery were Metropolitan Korniliy of Kazan, Archbishops Ilarion of Ryazan and Simeon of Siberia.
Undoubtedly, the Makaryev Monastery played a major role in the life of the future bishop of Kolomna. It was here that the priest’s son took monastic vows and was given the name Pavel. It is also most likely that he was ordained a priest here.
In the summer of 1651, Pavel was summoned to Moscow and appointed by Patriarch Joseph as abbot of the ancient Pafnutiev Monastery in Borovsk. His assignment to lead the renowned monastery was made upon the recommendation of Nikon, who by then was Metropolitan of Novgorod and a confidant of the young Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich.
Joseph died on April 15, 1652. The highest clergy of the Russian Church gathered in the capital for a Council and selected twelve “spiritual men” deemed worthy to occupy the patriarchal throne. Among those mentioned were Metropolitan Nikon and Abbot Pavel.
By the will of the Tsar, Nikon was chosen as Patriarch. The participation of the Borovsk abbot and the other “spiritual men” in the selection was merely symbolic, though it does testify to the high regard in which Pavel was held by his contemporaries.
The Apple Orchard of the Bishop’s Court #
The beginning of the new patriarchate held no ill omens for the abbot. In November 1652, Pavel was consecrated bishop of the city of Kolomna near Moscow by Nikon.
The Kolomna diocese was one of the oldest in Rus’. A detailed and vivid description of this diocese, its cathedral of the Dormition, the bishop’s treasury, and the episcopal residence was left by Archdeacon Paul of Aleppo, who visited Russia from 1654 to 1656 in the retinue of his father, Patriarch Macarius of Antioch, and who wrote a book about the journey.
The diocese included, besides the major trading city of Kolomna, the towns of Serpukhov, Kashira, and Tula. With significant resources at his disposal, the bishop of Kolomna kept a large retinue of servants and guards.
Paul of Aleppo left a rapturous description of the bishop’s residence in Kolomna. He was especially struck by the bishop’s orchard:
“In which grow wondrous apples, remarkable for their beauty, color, and taste. They are of various kinds: red like carnelian, yellow like gold, white like camphor, all with a very fine skin.”
The historian Gerhard Friedrich Müller, who visited Kolomna in 1778, was likewise impressed by the apples:
“There are many fruitful orchards in Kolomna and its environs, which yield significant income for the inhabitants. The apples of Kolomna are particularly praised, said to surpass others in both size and flavor.”
Yet when the Tsar and Patriarch undertook to reform the Russian Church, neither the orchard with its sweet apples, nor the splendid cathedral with its rich treasury, nor the luxurious residence could restrain the bishop of Kolomna. He took the side of the opponents of the reforms—Archpriests Ioann Neronov and Avvakum.
At the beginning of Great Lent in 1653, Nikon sent a decree to Ioann Neronov forbidding prostrations (full bows to the ground) during the reading of the prayer of Ephraim the Syrian, “O Lord and Master of my life.” The Patriarch wrote:
“According to the tradition of the holy apostles and holy fathers, it is not proper in church to make prostrations on one’s knees, but rather bows from the waist; and moreover, you ought to cross yourselves with three fingers.”
This decree made a heavy impression on many clergymen. Avvakum recalled:
“We were troubled, having gathered together. We saw that winter was coming—our hearts froze and our legs trembled.”
Neronov withdrew to the Chudov Monastery, shut himself in a solitary cell, and prayed for a week. During his prayer, he heard a voice from an icon:
“The time of suffering is at hand. You must suffer steadfastly!”
These dreadful words Neronov repeated to Archpriest Avvakum and Bishop Pavel. Avvakum was soon exiled to Siberia. For Pavel, the time of suffering came the following year.
At the Patriarch’s suggestion, the Tsar convened a Church Council in 1654 to review and abolish those Russian liturgical rites which differed from contemporary Greek usage. The exact date of the Council is unknown. Scholars believe it was held in February or March, as in the mid-17th century such Councils were usually convened on the eve of or during the start of Great Lent.
The session began with Nikon’s address. Speaking to the Tsar and the clergy, he declared that all novelties in the Church must be eradicated, and everything handed down by the Holy Fathers should be preserved without corruption, addition, or alteration. After this, the Council was presented with several examples of differences between Russian and Greek rites. Each time these differences were discussed, Nikon proposed they be changed to conform to the Greek model, which he described as more ancient. The Council consistently approved these changes.
The only one who opposed Nikon and the new rites was Pavel. When the Patriarch proposed discussion on abolishing the Lenten prostrations, the bishop of Kolomna dared to object. As Paul of Aleppo recounts, the bishop declared:
“From the time that we became Christians and received the right faith as an inheritance from our pious fathers and grandfathers, we have held to these rites and to this faith, and we will not now accept a new faith!”
Nevertheless, the bishop opposed not only the abolition of prostrations but the church reforms in general. Yet his words were not heeded. The Council, bowing to pressure from the Tsar and the Patriarch, approved the correction of Russian liturgical books according to Greek models. Paul of Aleppo reports that when the clergy were adding their signatures to the conciliar decree, “the bishop of Kolomna, being of a stubborn character, refused to accept or approve the act, nor would he place his hand upon it, let alone affirm it.”
However, the bishop did ultimately sign the conciliar act—but under his signature, he added these words, marking his dissent on the matter of prostrations:
“And as for what I said at the Holy Council regarding the prostrations, and that ustav (order) written on parchment which I laid forth here in justification, and another in writing.”
Simeon Denisov, in The Russian Vineyard, recounts that after the Council, Nikon attempted to win over the bishop of Kolomna through gentle persuasion. At first, he addressed Pavel with “flattering words” and tried to convince him of the necessity of reform, pointing out the “vulgarity” of the old Russian liturgical books. To this, the bishop replied that the Gospel truths and apostolic preaching were also conveyed in the plain speech of the Galilean fishermen.
Then the Patriarch pointed to the inconsistencies between Greek books and the customs of the Russian Church. Pavel countered that while the new Greek customs did not align with Russian ones, the ancient Byzantine rites fully corresponded with the Muscovite church order.
When Nikon saw that the bishop dared to contradict him, he flew into a rage, seized the defiant bishop, tore off his monastic mantle, and—as Denisov writes—personally beat him:
“Calling forth the wondrous Pavel, he, with his own hands (oh, what malice of fury!), struck the sacred face of the sacred man. He was not ashamed of the high priestly rank, nor did he blush at the holiness of the venerable gray hair of that man.”
While we cannot confirm whether Nikon himself struck the bishop, it is certain that, at the Patriarch’s order, Bishop Pavel was beaten, imprisoned, and then exiled.
The Moscow Council of 1666, when reviewing the charges against Nikon, counted this among his offenses:
“Furthermore, Nikon alone deposed a bishop without any local council, at which his faults should have been demonstrated… After deposing Pavel, bishop of Kolomna, he stripped him of his mantle and subjected him to cruel beatings and punishments, and cast him into distant exile. He did not recall the word that no man ought to be punished twice for the same offense. Thus it came about that this bishop lost his mind and perished miserably—whether devoured by beasts or drowned in the water, no one knows.”
Archbishop Lazar (Baranovich) of Chernigov, a participant in the Council, wrote in a private letter that Nikon was judged for “his cruel governance of the clergy, his unilateral deposition of a bishop, which led to the bishop’s untimely death through madness.”
A Fool-for-Christ’s Sake #
By Nikon’s decree, the bishop was exiled to the ancient Khutyn Monastery near Novgorod, under the strict watch of Archimandrite Euthymius (Barashko).
The conditions of exile were so harsh that Paul of Aleppo shuddered as he wrote:
“It would have been better for him to die than to live there, because of the severe confinement and miserable life, the constant darkness, hunger, and complete absence of bread; from there, it was impossible to flee and be saved!”
That said, the archdeacon had no sympathy for his Russian namesake, adding:
“That bishop deserved it!”
In the Khutyn Monastery, the disgraced bishop was completely cut off from communication with his fellow Old Believers. The Patriarch forbade anyone to visit him, and those most persistent in their desire to do so were ordered to be arrested and thrown into prison.
At that time, the bishop undertook the ascetic feat of foolishness for Christ’s sake—feigned madness. For in the conditions of growing persecution, it was much easier to preach the old faith under the cover of apparent insanity. Thus, Pavel became an image of a fool-for-Christ bishop, the likes of which neither the Greek nor Russian Churches had known.
The 17th-century Old Believer writer, Deacon Feodor, recounts Pavel’s foolishness for Christ’s sake:
“Pavel, that blessed bishop, began to act the fool for the sake of Christ.”
But outside observers believed that the bishop had truly “lost his mind” due to the torments he had endured.
The abbot and brethren of the Khutyn Monastery, considering the bishop mad, decided not to burden themselves with keeping watch over a “madman” and allowed him to wander the vicinity of the monastery. He used this freedom entirely to preach among the local people.
It soon became known to Nikon that the bishop was preaching the old faith. And he resolved to destroy the defiant bishop once and for all. The decrees of the Council of 1666 refer vaguely to Pavel’s death: he “lost his mind” and perished “without a trace”—whether devoured by wild beasts or drowned, it is not said. However, the council’s decrees threaten Nikon:
“And this, too, shall be counted unto thee as murder.”
Avvakum, who at the time of the bishop’s death was in exile in Siberia, recounts based on available testimony that Nikon “tortured Bishop Pavel of Kolomna and burned him with fire in the Novgorod region.”
The most vivid description of the bishop’s death is given by Deacon Feodor:
“Nikon learned of it and sent his servants to the Novgorod lands, where he (Pavel) was wandering. There they found him in a desolate place, walking alone, and seized him—like wolves a gentle lamb—and they killed him to death, and burned his body with fire by Nikon’s command.”
Unfortunately, historians do not know the truth about the bishop’s death. No documents have yet been found that might shed light on this dark affair—and perhaps they never existed at all.
At the Council of 1666, Nikon was interrogated:
“By what canon did you depose Bishop Pavel of Kolomna without a council, strip him of his episcopal vestments, and exile him to the Khutyn Monastery, where he disappeared without a trace?”
To this, the Patriarch on trial replied:
“By what canon I deposed him, I do not recall, and I do not know what became of him. There is a record about him in the patriarchal court.”
“There is no such record in the patriarchal court, nor has there ever been! Bishop Pavel was excommunicated without a council,” came the response.
And so, from the realm of historical research we pass into the realm of popular tradition. And tradition holds that the martyrdom of Bishop Pavel of Kolomna took place on April 3, 1656, on Great Thursday.
The murdered bishop became one of the most venerated saints among the Old Believers. Yet only the Old Believers held him in such esteem. To others, he always remained an exotic historical figure, a legend from the deep past, a minor character from the forgotten 17th century.
That is why it was so unusual to see Bishop Pavel of Kolomna appear in the television miniseries The Schism (Raskol), completed in 2011. Director Nikolai Dostal and screenwriter Mikhail Kurayev presented modern viewers not only with the Tsar and the Patriarch, Archpriest Avvakum and Lady Morozova, but also with Bishop Pavel. He was superbly portrayed by actor Valery Skorokosov. Thanks to him, the voice restored to the bishop by scholars rang out with vitality and spirit across the vastness of Holy Rus’.