The Log House Has Not Burned Down - It is Still Burning. Part 2. #

V.V. Buzhinsky

The conquest of Siberia cannot be explained by anything other than a miracle — it occurred so easily and naturally, as if in reward for the unity of the people with God: “Be fruitful and multiply!” A great movement of Russians eastward began. The Russian state stretched immeasurably across the vast taiga. This was no longer an exodus, but a settlement. In time, there was also a reunification with Orthodox Little Russia.

Yet unfortunately, there always seemed to be two peoples. One prayed for salvation, was saved, and saved others. The other, with every vice, dragged the nation into the abyss.

The events of the Time of Troubles at the beginning of the 17th century had their roots as far back as the reign of Ivan III, but more so in that of his son, Vasily III. Under Ivan, there were merely signs; Vasily, by his actions, made a decisive turn toward infatuation with foreign customs.

N.M. Karamzin [8] writes:

“European arts were transplanted to us with astonishing ease, for Ivan and Vasily, inspired by truly great minds, diligently sought to adapt them to Russia, having neither the prejudice of superstition nor fear nor stubbornness; and we, obedient to the will of our rulers, quickly learned to esteem these fruits of civil education, which are not the property of any one faith or language, but of humanity.”

Such enthusiasm is understandable coming from Karamzin, who for a time had Masonic affiliations. In his era, “Enlightenment” as imported from the West was received with enormous hope — even servility. Of Vasily III, Karamzin further writes [8]:

“He followed the path laid out for him by his father’s wisdom, and did not stray from it, moving forward with prudence, without fits of passion. Drawing near to the goal — the greatness of Russia — he left his heirs neither the burden nor the glory of correcting his mistakes. He was no genius, but a good ruler; he loved the state more than his own exalted name, and in that regard, he deserves true, eternal praise — a distinction few crowned heads can claim. Ivans III create, Ivans IV glorify (and often destroy); Vasiliys preserve and secure the state, and are given to peoples whose long endurance and integrity please Providence.”

Let us ask: was it pleasing to the Lord that “wishing to be a father, the sovereign resolved upon a deed cruel from a moral point of view — mercilessly rejecting from his side his innocent, virtuous wife, who for twenty years had lived only for his happiness, casting her into grief, shame, and despair; breaking the sacred law of love and gratitude” [8]? Vasily confined his wife Solomonia to a convent and married… Elena Glinskaya, “to the astonishment of our boyars, who never imagined that the family of foreign traitors could be honored with such a match” [8]. “Loving his young wife, Vasily wanted to please her not only by kindness, but by a youthful appearance that was fading — he shaved his beard and took pains with his looks” [8]. He was around 50 years old. And who could be born of such a union? Of course — the “continuator” of his father’s legacy, the future Tsar Ivan IV. Vasily III died of a putrid abscess, leaving his three-year-old son under the regency of Elena. “During her four years of rule, in the name of the young Grand Prince, two of his father’s full brothers and an uncle on his mother’s side were executed; a cousin was thrown into prison, and many noble families were disgraced” [8].

And what of the people? “Even the common folk — some out of natural compassion, others following the Nomocanon — condemned Vasily” [8]. Still others, as shown in the materials of the Stoglav Council of 1551 [8], “crowd into taverns, gamble, ruin themselves. Men and women bathe together in public baths, which even monks and nuns shamelessly attend. They eat blood and sausages against the canons of the Ecumenical Councils; following Latin custom, they shave their beards, trim their mustaches, wear foreign clothes, swear falsely by the name of God and blaspheme; and worst of all — for which God punishes Christians with war, famine, and plague — they fall into the sin of Sodom.” We have found no specific source attesting to widespread Polish influence at the time, but considering that during the Time of Troubles the Poles came to us, it stands to reason that Polish clothing, hairstyles, and customs had already begun to be adopted.

The Bible speaks clearly and directly: “Ye shall not mar the corners of your beard” (Leviticus 19:27). If an Orthodox tsar disregards such a stern command, it clearly cannot be without consequence. The outward appearance of a beardless ruler reflects his inner corruption. Unlike us, contemporaries could not help but perceive this connection. And perhaps the brutal reign of his son Ivan the Terrible and the subsequent long Time of Troubles were seen as entirely logical outcomes.

Is it really so important — to shave or not to shave the beard? There’s little point in overthinking it if one treats the Bible as the God-inspired Book. He who shaves his beard seems to imply that the Creator made a mistake in creating man with one. It is a kind of defiance toward God. And punishment is inevitable. We are not told in what form it will come. The idea that an entire nation, even future generations, could pay for the “indiscretions” of a vain king seems strange to us. We say, “Now the whole world shaves with triple blades and nothing happens.” But things do happen — we just no longer see the connection. We look for causes on the surface, like “reasonable” people. And even when we look deeper, we look in the wrong direction. Then again, even on the surface we often fail to notice what is obvious. Perhaps the constant desire of men to have smooth, feminine faces distorts their very nature — and it is not by chance that the number of sodomites continues to grow? Perhaps women, too, having come to love the convenience of short haircuts, acquire masculine traits of willpower and gradually push men out of their traditional spheres? Are we not, then, paying the price for having abandoned what seem like minor Biblical instructions?

Many events, through which we are given signs from the Most High, appear deliberately emphasized — vivid and tangible. Perhaps this is so that later, when we find ourselves in historical dead ends, we may still easily re-establish cause and effect — and, more importantly, find the saving path. He who thinks that, just because we are not permitted to fully comprehend God’s Providence, we need not even try — he is deeply mistaken. The signs God sends are filled with Divine Simplicity — and it is that simplicity that reveals the meaning of what takes place.

The spiritual corruption of the father and the mortal sin of the mother were passed down to the future Ivan IV. Yet the first period of his reign was marked by the beneficial influence of his beloved wife Anastasia — prayerful, wise, and merciful. The state grew stronger, and important and necessary reforms were carried out. But with Anastasia’s death, “he lost not only a wife, but his virtue as well” [8]. The tsar’s moral character changed. “Toward his slaves, given him by God, he was exceedingly hard-hearted, bold and merciless in shedding blood and murder” — such is how contemporaries saw him. Moreover, Ivan the Terrible increasingly venerated foreign ways, claiming descent from German blood, and excused his atrocities to foreigners by saying that he “ruled not over men, but over beasts” [9].

Kostomarov also suggested that it was Ivan IV who invented the practice of enriching the treasury by promoting drunkenness [10].

All of this led to the end of the Rurik dynasty.

Boris Godunov failed to learn from history. In his pursuit of the tsarist throne, he committed numerous crimes. But let us note one particular detail [10]: “None of the former Moscow tsars showed as much favor to foreigners as Boris did.”

Thus began the Time of Troubles…

It seems that every nation has its own “time of troubles.” But here, we must turn our attention to events in Byzantium — a nation spiritually akin to our own — during the early centuries of the second millennium.

After the death of Emperor Basil II in 1025, Byzantium was the strongest state in Europe [11]. But internal discord between the capital’s elite and the provincial nobility led to civil strife, and Byzantium suffered a crushing defeat in the war against a new wave of Muslim invaders — the Seljuk Turks. In 1071, the empire lost control over all of Asia Minor. The emperors of the Komnenos dynasty (1081–1180) managed to consolidate forces and revived imperial glory for nearly another century. The Komnenoi entered history as “Westernizing” emperors. Despite the schism between the Orthodox and Catholic Churches in 1054, they appealed to Western European kingdoms for aid in their fight against the Turks — the first time in imperial history such a thing occurred. Constantinople became the assembly point for participants in the First and Second Crusades. Surrounded by Western knights, the Komnenoi came to resemble Western European monarchs. But their century-long reign ended in turmoil and civil war.

The new dynasty of the Angeli (1185–1204) only deepened the crisis. Their patronage of Italian merchants dealt an irreparable blow to native Byzantine craft and commerce. The catastrophe was inevitable: in 1204, the Latins captured Constantinople, and for nearly fifty years, the Latin Empire of the Crusaders was established in place of the Roman Empire.

Could our rulers of the 16th and early 17th centuries have learned from Byzantium’s fate? Of course they could. But they did not. As a result, a Catholic — the pretender False Dmitry — ascended the throne. He had a Catholic Polish woman, Marina Mniszech, crowned as tsarina without converting to Orthodoxy. The Poles were secretly admitted into Moscow, and even the Polish prince Vladislav was offered the Russian throne.

The apostasy at that time was flagrant, yet the Lord still gave us time to draw conclusions from the recent Time of Troubles. But again, we missed our chance. Mikhail Romanov — and especially his son Alexei — only increased the influence of foreign customs.

Speaking from a secular standpoint, one might try to justify these rulers. Perhaps their intentions were good. Perhaps it seemed that a modern army could only be formed with the help of foreign mercenaries; that granting privileges to foreign merchants at the expense of native traders could boost commerce; that inviting foreign doctors could protect the health of the royal family and court; that sending the most talented children to the German Quarter might advance education, culture, and so forth. But as the saying goes, “the road to hell is paved with good intentions.” What happened alongside these choices was the adoption of customs, manners, and habits that were not always morally upright. Even if the signs of reverence for foreign Catholic and Protestant ways were still minor — and mostly confined to the cities — the threat to Orthodoxy was already visible.

And then the Lord permitted a Schism in the Church.

What followed defies human reason. It surpasses human understanding. A reform of the Church was conceived and carried out by Patriarch Nikon and Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich Romanov. The pretext was a familiar one — the correction of books, the clarification of rites. There is nothing inherently wrong in this, of course: books had always been corrected, since errors could creep in during copying. All participants in the events to come — even those who would later become opponents — agreed that some reform was necessary.

But the hidden mechanisms, and especially the methods by which the reform was imposed, raise the question: was it sabotage? Of course, it is unlikely that Nikon or Tsar Alexei deliberately sought to sabotage the Church — but evidently, their weaknesses were skillfully exploited. Nikon’s vanity, ambition, and harsh character, and Alexei’s poor governance and shortsightedness, were manipulated. One imagined himself as a universal patriarch, the other — as the protector of the entire Slavic world.

At the Council of 1666–1667, the old rites were anathematized. The goal of the reform was to unify the liturgical practice of the Russian Church with that of the Greeks. In the eyes of the people, this newly reformed Orthodoxy came to be known as “Nikonianism.”

The illogic of the “reformers” is best illustrated by the following examples:

1. The two-finger sign of the cross — with which, unquestionably, all Russian saints had blessed themselves, beginning with St. Olga — was anathematized. Yet, theologically, the two-finger sign is more grounded in dogma, and it is also the more ancient. It was replaced by the three-finger sign. Thus, all Russian saints fell under the anathema. F.E. Melnikov, a noted 19th–20th-century Old Believer historian and writer [12], comparing the two-finger and three-finger signs, wrote:

“In the two-finger sign, the index finger represents the human nature of Christ, while the next — the great middle finger — represents the divine nature of the Son of God. According to catechetical instruction, this finger must be bent at the top joint, signifying 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 represent the Holy Trinity.
As we see, the two-finger arrangement involves all five fingers: it proclaims both the Holy Trinity and the two natures of Christ. But in the act of crossing oneself or blessing, only two fingers touch the forehead, abdomen, and shoulders.
Theologically and dogmatically, the two-finger sign is a fully Orthodox confession. Most importantly — it clearly and explicitly expresses, and, if we may so say, demonstrates or manifests the central essence of Christianity: the crucifixion and death of the God-Man on the cross, and with Him the co-crucifixion of all mankind.
‘We preach Christ crucified,’ proclaims the Apostle Paul (1 Corinthians 1:23). The same is said — and shown — by the two-finger sign. It is essential and visual: a Gospel and apostolic proclamation.”

The three-finger sign, by contrast, contains neither this central Christian confession nor the apostolic preaching. The 1667 Council dogmatized:

“The sign of the precious and life-giving Cross shall be made upon oneself with the first three fingers of the right hand: the thumb, the index finger beside it, and the middle finger, joined together in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit; the other two — the little finger and the ring finger — shall be bent and idle.”

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 devoid of the God-Man, devoid of Christ the Savior. Not even a statement is made that in the Holy Trinity, He is confessed in two natures.

How could pious people of that time renounce the two-finger sign — the true sign of Christ — and accept the three-finger sign, which entirely omits the confession of Christ the God-Man? With such a sign, stripped of Christ, the cross is drawn upon a person. In this way, the Holy Trinity is symbolically crucified on the cross without Christ, without His humanity, without Man. At the very least, in this perverse sign, we see the rejection of the essence of Christianity itself — its heart, its central meaning and purpose. Such a three-finger sign could only be accepted either by those who did not understand the meaning of Christianity or by those compelled through force.

2. The corrections to the service books were not carried out using ancient manuscripts, but with whatever texts were at hand — including newly printed Greek editions, sometimes even published in Venice. As it turned out, the new books were significantly worse than the old ones. This was stated not only by Old Believer historians. Similar research was undertaken even by supporters of Nikon, such as B.P. Kutuzov, precentor of the Spassky Cathedral at the Andronikov Monastery. His work Church Reform of the 17th Century: Its True Causes and Goals was first published in two volumes by the Old Orthodox Pomorian Church in Riga in 1992. Kutuzov argues that the textual revisions amounted to a kind of sabotage, operating on the principle “the worse, the better.” He points out numerous errors and inaccuracies, writing:

“There were ‘mistakes’ of a more serious kind — the presence of which plainly indicates that under the guise of correction, an ideological diversion was being carried out.”

Here is one example.

An old baptismal prayer read:

“We pray Thee, O Lord, let not the evil spirit descend upon the one being baptized.”
The new version read:
“Let not the evil spirit descend upon the one being baptized, we pray Thee.”
This alteration remained in use until 1915.

3. Another question arose: in what had the Greeks actually succeeded, if Byzantium no longer existed and the Ecumenical Patriarch of Constantinople now resided under Turkish rule?

4. Even if all of the above were false, the unchristian methods of enforcing the “reforms” would still be inexcusable.

The fate of the Solovetsky Monastery is especially telling in this regard. It was described by the renowned 18th-century Old Believer author Simeon Denisov [13]. We summarize this tragic yet remarkable story using Denisov’s account.

The newly printed service books were brought to the Solovetsky Monastery from Kholmogory in 1657 by the elder Joseph. At that time, the first archimandrite of the Solovetsky community, Elias, said:

“Fathers and brethren! Let my advice be pleasing to you. Let us accept the books sent by the patriarch, lest we provoke his anger needlessly. But having examined their inconsistencies and opposition to the laws of God, we shall have a firm basis for our resistance.”

The monastery did not accept Nikon’s reform. Services were conducted according to the old books and rites. Word of the monastery’s careful preservation of liturgical piety spread throughout Russia. Many monks and laypeople flocked to the monastery. Archimandrite Nicanor, formerly the tsar’s confessor who had retired to the monastery in 1660, was summoned to Moscow by the tsar.

“But the Solovetsky fathers, having taken counsel together, wrote a prayerful petition to the tsar, in which they begged the sovereign to permit them to live according to the ancient rules and traditions of their fathers.”

As support, they cited not only the old-printed and manuscript books of Moscow and Belarus, but also the Serbian and Ostrog editions, and conciliar and personal affirmations from Russian hierarchs — many of whom had affirmed the old rites in their own handwriting — as well as the testimony of Greek holy teachers. They invoked the memory of wonderworking saints, both Solovetsky and others across Rus’, who had likewise transmitted and commanded the unaltered preservation of these traditions in their monasteries. They referred to the universal pious practice of the Russian Church, which had been received from the Greeks under Prince Vladimir (the Holy) and preserved without deviation to the present day — this, they declared, was affirmed by the icons with Greek inscriptions. Regarding these unchanged traditions and holy customs, the monks begged, pleaded, and exhorted the sovereign to let them preserve them unaltered. They swore before God that they would never accept the new decrees established by Nikon, lest they fall under the curses of the holy fathers:

“And if the wrath of the tsar be greatly kindled against us, we are ready not only to endure hardship and tribulation, but to seal the statutes of the holy fathers with our own blood and the laying down of our lives.”

With this prayerful petition, Archimandrite Nicanor and Archimandrite Bartholomew of Solovki traveled to Moscow, “to pacify the tsar’s anger which had been kindled against the monastery.” Archimandrite Nicanor made many appeals to the tsar, but he was unrelenting — “the tsar’s anger only grew.” A council was convened in 1666–1667.

Afterward, the monks were repeatedly “advised, entreated, coaxed, and threatened” to accept the new books. “But they stood firm as adamant, upholding ancient ecclesiastical piety; against all persuasion they stood like a tower against the wind. They desired to fulfill in deed what they had declared in word in their petition to the tsar: ‘Better to desire death for the sake of piety than to accept anything from the innovations.’”

And so, troops were sent to Solovki. This happened in 1670. A nearly seven-year siege of the monastery began. For those who wish to know the details, we recommend reading Denisov; we will only continue the account briefly. As always happens in such cases, a Judas appeared. It was a certain monk named Theoktist, who revealed a secret passage to the besiegers. On January 22, 1676, the attackers broke into the monastery. Voivode Meshcherinov sent a messenger to Moscow, joyfully announcing the fall of the stronghold.

It is painful to read the accounts of executions and tortures inflicted upon the monks and defenders of the monastery. We will quote only one passage:

“…the voivode interrogated Khrisanf, a master woodcarver, and Theodor, a wise icon painter, along with his disciple Andrei — men as renowned in the monastery as they were fervently devoted to piety. Seeing that they stood firm and unwavering in the traditions of the fathers, he ordered them to be executed in the most brutal manner: their hands and feet were to be severed, and then their heads. These blessed ones, who received such a death with holy zeal and divine sweetness, were beheaded and thus departed by this most bitter death to the all-sweetest bliss.
The voivode then ordered that around sixty other monks and laybrothers be brought from under guard. Having interrogated them in various ways, and finding them firm and steadfast in ancient ecclesiastical piety, he boiled over in furious wrath and prepared for them diverse executions. Some he ordered hanged by the neck, others by the feet, and the majority — after slitting their sides with sharp iron and hooking them through the ribs — were suspended, each upon his own hook.
The blessed martyrs, with joy, placed their necks into the nooses, prepared their feet for the path to heaven, and offered their ribs to be cut, even urging the executioners to cut them deeper. Suffering these inhuman torments with such unheard-of courage and unspeakable zeal, they ascended to eternal rest in heaven.
Others, the merciless tormentor ordered bound by the legs and dragged across the island behind horses until they expired. Yet they, though dragged with such cruelty and torment, showed no cowardice, no childish weakness, but repeated the Jesus Prayer and had the name of Christ the Son of God upon their lips. Thus, with holy and righteous struggle, they released their souls to eternal peace.
The voivode, having interrogated the remaining inhabitants of the monastery — monks, laybrothers, servants, and laborers — found them all strong in spirit and of one mind, standing in the old ecclesiastical piety, ready to die for the traditions of their fathers. Subjecting them to many tortures and wounds, various torments and afflictions, he deprived them of this earthly life with the most bitter and painful deaths.”

Among those tortured was Archimandrite Nicanor, the former confessor of the tsar.

In total, around 400 monks and laybrothers were martyred. A few survived — by miracle.

At that very time in Moscow, a week before the executions — which coincided with the fall of the monastery — Tsar Alexei unexpectedly fell ill. Evidently realizing the cause of his affliction, he dispatched a messenger to Solovki to lift the siege. But, as you might guess, it was too late. On January 29, the tsar died. Denisov writes:

“And when the voivode wrought such bloodshed, ravaging the assembly of wonderworkers, when he offered up this bloody sacrifice — then, at the eighth hour of that day, the sovereign gave up the crown of his reign, relinquished his power over the world, and died from this life.”

He was 47 years old and had never complained of poor health.

The two messengers met in Vologda.

The fate of the traitor Theoktist was dreadful. After the monastery was taken, he was sent to the administrative offices in Vologda, and — by God’s judgment — lost his mind, fell into vile passions and lewd defilements. Then he was struck with an incurable illness — corpse-like leprosy. His whole body, from head to toe, became covered in festering sores. Tormented by this severe affliction, wracked with unbearable pain, he suffered long and grievously and gave up his wicked soul in terror.

The bodies of the martyrs were not buried — perhaps due to the winter, or perhaps the Lord willed that the crime be publicly revealed. In any case, those who arrived on the island in June saw a miraculous sight:

“…on the sea ice near the shore, where the bodies of the fathers lay, the ice had neither melted nor decayed under the warmth of the sun and the summer heat. It remained unmoving, like solid rock, like unbreakable adamant. It stood firm and unshaken, and by this supernatural sign — a miracle manifest — it declared more loudly than any trumpet the pious suffering of the fathers and the holiness of their remains, striking with awe the hearts of all who beheld it.
In those spring days, under such scorching sunlight, not only did the ice beneath the saints remain firm, but the blessed martyrs’ bodies — lying upon the sea ice, hanging on gallows, or scattered across the island — showed no decay, no stench as is common with corpses. Instead, they lay as if alive, as though peacefully sleeping — like blossoms in a field, like lilies in the valleys — blooming with heavenly grace.
The new overseers of the monastery, astonished at these signs and wonders, wrote to the tsar requesting permission to remove and bury the bodies of the holy fathers, which had lain exposed for so long.
Those who were there recount that the blessed martyrs appeared in dreams to some of the commanders, saying: ‘If you wish to see the ice melt, then bury our bodies. Until they are interred, the ice will not thaw.’
When the tsar’s decree arrived, ordering that the bodies of the holy martyrs be buried, they were carefully gathered from all over the island.”

Denisov was almost a contemporary of these events (he was born in 1682 — the same year Archpriest Avvakum and his companions were burned at the stake in Pustozersk). The memory of these tragic and miraculous events was still fresh among the people; they were still being lived and felt. This is reflected in the author’s style — one believes him from the first lines.

How lacking in faith one must have been, to ignore the signs sent to the Romanovs! But they did not heed them. They began burning those who resisted the innovations. It seemed they had found a way to erase them without a trace. According to F.E. Melnikov [12]:

“In Moscow itself, cabins and pyres blazed.”

He continues:

“At the insistence of Patriarch Joachim, Princess Sophia issued, in 1685, twelve fearsome articles against the people of ancient piety, rightly known in history as the ‘Draconian Articles.’ In them, followers of the ancient Russian Church — the Old Believers — were labeled ‘schismatics,’ ‘thieves,’ and enemies of the Church, and were sentenced to the most dreadful punishments.
Those who spread the old faith were to be ‘tortured and burned in a cabin, and their ashes scattered.’”

And the holy ashes scattered, covering the Orthodox lands in a thick layer. Is it not for this reason that we are unable to understand ourselves — neither with our own minds nor those of others — because each day we trample the sacred underfoot? Our blood wanders, our minds grieve. And nothing we do prospers. We begin to build, and never finish; what we do build, we later tear down. We drink from an unknown sorrow, blaspheme, commit abortions, abandon our children. And we do not understand, do not realize, that we are “doomed” — either to become truly Russian, that is, truly Orthodox, or to vanish into oblivion [4].

It was the Lord who ordained it so and covered our land with holiness. And it is forever — unlike volcanic ash, holy ash is not consumed…

Yet things are not entirely bleak. The illogicality, the absurdity of our historical upheavals seems almost predestined. They are explained by a special participation in the Divine Plan. Remember Judas. Can the actions of a man — a disciple of God who sold God for thirty pieces of silver — be grasped by the human mind? And yet, the idea that “Russia cannot be understood with the mind” may indeed be justified. Only then will we fulfill our mission. And for that, we must understand something — even with our minds.

In Europe, another religious war would have long since erupted, with methods of persuasion far from evangelical. Perhaps this is why the Lord chose us — because it is with evangelical meekness that true Russians could walk by the thousands, even joyfully, to the rack and the stake, simply to avoid breaking the Faith, to avoid renouncing Christ and their ancestors — to go in the name of Christ. How can one not recall Boris and Gleb, and marvel at the depth of the Creator’s Plan? For the spiritual example of those passion-bearing saints raised up a strong and numerous people.

F.E. Melnikov described the true causes of the tragedy as follows [12]:

“The new Church, like the new Russia that arose at that time among the royal and governmental elites, firmly and irreversibly embarked on the path of fascination with Westernism, with a new European culture — which, even then, was essentially anti-Christian and godless. ‘Oh, oh, poor Rus’, why did you yearn for German customs and habits?’ — cried the far-seeing Avvakum in sorrow.”

The Faith given by the Lord, accepted by Saints Olga and Vladimir, reverently borrowed from the Greeks in their golden age, and made radiant by a host of saints — the Faith that united scattered tribes into the Russian people and bestowed upon them vast lands and boundless riches — came to seem burdensome, outdated. Other nations, who had long since transgressed, appeared more “civilized,” more intelligent, more educated.

Thus began a trial of civilizations.

How many Russians perished, how many were scattered — no one can now calculate. We can assume it was a great many. Kostomarov estimates half. The position of the Old Believers in Russia was sometimes worse than that of the Jews, who, beyond the Pale of Settlement, were permitted to build synagogues, while Old Believers were forbidden to build churches or even place a cross atop their prayer-houses. There is likely not a single inhabited continent where Old Believers do not live today. This was the second exodus of the Russian people.

There were no prophets in their own homeland. German experts were invited to teach us to wear wigs. That proved insufficient — so we learned French and excelled to such a degree that even learned Frenchmen were astonished. But as we delved into the subtleties of pronunciation and the “depths” of French manners and fashion, a powerful French force was also growing. The Napoleonic invasion had to be repelled by the entire nation. Yet even this taught us nothing.

From the second half of the 19th century, a specter began prowling Europe — the specter of communism. The Lord taught quite clearly how to handle specters:

“This kind cometh not out but by prayer and fasting.”

We did not remember this. On the contrary — we began to study demonic philosophies. And received “full service,” as one well-known missionary aptly remarked about flirting with demons.

Do we truly have no immunity?

As we immersed ourselves in the doctrines of the ghostly theory of “Marxism-Leninism,” our chronic illness of forgetfulness entered a critical phase. The revolutions of 1905 and 1917, the Civil War, famine — all followed, along with the third exodus of Russians.

The famine of the early 1930s occurred in peacetime, during collectivization. The number of human victims was enormous — especially great in Ukraine and the European part of Russia. Repressions followed.

SOURCES

8. N.M. Karamzin. History of the Russian State. In 4 volumes. Moscow: Kniga, 1989.

9. N.I. Kostomarov. Sketch of Domestic Life and Morals of the Great Russian People in the 16th–17th Centuries. Moscow: Respublika, 1992. 303 pp.

10. N.I. Kostomarov. Russian History in the Biographies of Its Principal Figures. Moscow: Kniga, 1990.

11. Children’s Encyclopedia. Vol. 1: World History. Compiled by S.T. Ismailova. Moscow: Avanta+, 1996. 704 pp.

12. F.E. Melnikov. A Short History of the Ancient Orthodox (Old Believer) Church. Barnaul: Barnaul State Pedagogical University Press, 1999. 557 pp.

13. S. Denisov. The History of the Fathers and Martyrs of Solovki. Moscow: 2000.