Russian Old Belief: Traditions, History, and Culture. -Dimitry Urushev

From the Baptism of Rus

Old Belief is, by definition, inseparably linked to history. Old Believers have always been distinguished by a profound historical memory. For them, not only recently glorified Russian saints but also the biblical patriarchs and prophets were real, living people, forming an integral part of the Orthodox world.

In recounting the history of the Fall of the first humans, Protopope Avvakum wrote with remarkable empathy, as if addressing his contemporaries:

“Genesis again: ‘And Adam and Eve ate of the tree, from which God had commanded them not to eat, and they became naked.’ O dear ones! But there was no one to clothe them; the devil led them into trouble, and then stepped aside. The wicked master fed them and gave them drink, then shut them out of the house. The drunkard lies in the street, robbed, and no one takes pity.”

The historical memory of Old Belief was nourished not only by liturgical texts but also by Byzantine and Russian writings that consistently conveyed a unified Christian historical narrative.

Another enduring value for adherents of Old Belief was the family. It was within the family that a person’s religious views, spiritual foundations, and everyday culture were formed. Notably, prior to the seventeenth century, there was no distinct children’s literature in Russia. A child grew up surrounded by the heroes of oral folk genres—fairy tales, epics, and songs—but when learning to read, they began with serious, adult books—the Psalter and the Horologion—thus immersing themselves in the lofty models of Christian poetry and liturgy.

At the beginning of the twentieth century, when Old Believers gained the opportunity to develop freely, they attempted to adapt the existing Russian secondary education system to their needs. In 1912, the Old Believer Institute opened at Rogozhskoye Cemetery in Moscow.

In 1914, the director of the Institute, Alexander Stepanovich Rybakov, compiled the book The Old Faith: An Old Believer Anthology, designed to deepen Old Believers’ knowledge of their own history.

Nearly a century later, another well-illustrated book of a different genre was published: Old Belief: An Illustrated Encyclopedia (Moscow, 2005). It clarified essential doctrinal concepts and covered the main events of nearly three centuries of history. Following yet another tragic period in the history of Old Belief, this publication, like Rybakov’s anthology, had an innovative character.

The book now in the reader’s hands is also intended for both children and adults. It is an authorial work, consisting of brief historical essays that chronologically span more than a millennium—from the Baptism of Rus by Saint Prince Vladimir to the contemporary history of Old Belief.

This is not Dmitry Urushev’s first book. As a historian and religious scholar by education, he has a deep command of both the subject matter and the language.

The history of our country is presented here from an Old Believer perspective, based on the concept of the unchanging and continuous tradition of the Church. There is no polemical undertone in this book; rather, there is an objective view of actual events—of the true history of a significant part of Russian society, a part that remained faithful to the faith of its fathers and grandfathers, preserved their cultural heritage, and, by doing so, has given us, people of the twenty-first century, the opportunity to touch these pure sources of living Russian tradition.

— Elena Mikhailovna Yukhimenko,
Doctor of Philology, Honored Worker of Culture of the Russian Federation

The History of Russian Disobedience

Dmitry Urushev has addressed his book on the history of Russian Old Belief primarily to the younger generation. Since the author is deeply engaged in the topic of Old Belief, he had no other choice in this regard. But writing such a book for young people is a rather bold decision. After all, it could well be titled The History of Russian Disobedience.

It is worth remembering that the Narodnik revolutionaries once revolted against the patriarchal triad of God, Tsar, and Father. Long before the nihilists of the nineteenth century, the Old Believers had already rebelled against the will of the Tsar, who had undertaken church reform. However, the rebellion of those who defended the old traditions was waged in the name of God and fidelity to their ancestors. Against loyalty to the secular ruler, they opposed the supreme authority of the lord; in disobedience to the earthly kingdom, they relied on the authority of God’s word. In this sense, the influence of this book on young minds aligns well with the political-pedagogical trends of the present time.

However, the history of Russian Old Belief is also the history of Russian rebellion. It is no coincidence that many popular uprisings were led by adherents of the Old Faith. This book contains chapters on the Streltsy rebellion, the Cossack uprisings led by Bulavin and Nekrasov, and the defense of the Solovetsky Monastery against the Tsar’s troops. Resistance to social injustice in Russia was often justified by extreme conservatism, which many interpret as mere obstinacy.

As Pushkin once said, “The government is the only European in Russia.” The same could be said about the history of Old Believer resistance. It would seem that Russian autocrats opened the country to new influences—Alexei Mikhailovich began with spiritual culture, while Peter the Great continued with technology and the creation of an imperial political system. Progress! But the Tsars were branded Antichrists, and the obstinate went to their deaths rather than shave their beards or drink coffee.

What lesson, then, can readers draw from these stories of the disobedience of millions of Russian believers? In the Bible—by which devout Old Believers strictly govern their conduct—such a phenomenon in an entire nation is called “stiff-neckedness.” This term is used both positively and negatively, just as everything in that complex Book is nuanced.

The people of Israel were called stiff-necked because they refused to accept Moses’ innovations, turning instead to the old, more familiar way of worship. Yet it was precisely for this quality—for their refusal to bow their necks at the command of rulers—that God assigned them a special mission.

Something similar happened with the Old Believers. Through three centuries of resistance against the imperial state machine, they preserved a spirit of freedom that had disappeared in the rest of serf-bound Russia, crushed by forced conformity. Paradoxically, it was the Old Believers—merchants and industrialists—who became the driving force of capitalist progress in Russia. Merchant progress, of course, carried its own contradictions, which Russian literature reflected in full measure.

In response to their defiance, the empire and its official Church subjected the Old Believers to harsh and persistent persecution. One is reminded of the Novgorod Republic, crushed by Moscow’s princes two centuries earlier. Both in the case of Lord Novgorod the Great and in the case of Old Believer enclaves in the Russian hinterlands, the autocracy clashed with an unsystematic freedom. Alongside official Russia, an alternative country of Old Believers emerged—also Russian, also Christian, but existing independently of the Tsar. This, perhaps, explains the relentless severity of their persecution.

Be that as it may, the history of Russian Old Belief is the chronicle of the largest and most consistent manifestation of religious dissent. Which, in our time, is already saying quite a lot.

— Andrey Lvovich Melnikov,
Candidate of Philology, Editor-in-Chief of NG-Religions, a supplement to Nezavisimaya Gazeta

From the Author

Dedicated to my parents

Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin once stated:
“The greatest spiritual and political upheaval of our planet is Christianity. Modern history is the history of Christianity.”

One could also assert that Russian history is the history of Orthodoxy.

Yet this history is incomprehensible and incomplete without the history of Old Belief. The tribulations of the Russian people in our own time cannot be understood without studying the church schism of the seventeenth century.

The Schism was one of the most pivotal events in Russian history. It explains everything that has happened to us from the days of Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich to the present. Even the misfortunes of modern times—the fall of the Russian Empire, the collapse of the Soviet Union, and the turmoil in Ukraine—were all predetermined in the mid-seventeenth century.

The causes of the First World War, the two revolutions of 1917, and the Second World War were also set in motion at that time. Their consequences—future revolutions and wars—still await Russia.

The true causes of all our people’s calamities are hidden in the depths of time, like the roots of a tree buried in the earth…

Many remember the poet Nikolai Semyonovich Tikhonov for his resounding ballads about the blue envelope and nails. But few know of his sorrowful lines, which for decades lay in the “grave of a desk”—his personal archive:

There is no Russia, no Europe, and no me,
There is nothing left within me.
Beasts shall be slain, men shall be executed,
And trees shall burn in the fire.
To doubt, to believe in our days—
To forgive, to justify—not to forgive.
We are fortunate that our roads are paved with stone,
For to walk upon flowers would be terrifying.

This poem is about the year 1917. Tikhonov expressed with remarkable precision what took place in that dark year—“Russia is no more.”

The philosopher Vasily Vasilievich Rozanov put it even more bluntly:
“Russia vanished in two days. Three at most. It is astonishing how it collapsed all at once, completely, down to the smallest details. The kingdom was no more, the Church was no more, the army was no more, and the working class was no more. What remained? Strangely—literally nothing. Only a despicable people were left behind.”

Today, it is fashionable to lament “the Russia we lost”, the great empire that crumbled in 1917. Ah, what a country it was! The crisp break of a French baguette, ladies with lapdogs, gallant officers, gypsy choirs, Shustov cognac, and oysters.

But do these mourners know that Russia did not vanish in 1917, but much earlier—in the seventeenth century? What happened under Emperor Nicholas II was already foreordained in the reign of Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich.

The church reforms of that sovereign and the great Schism that followed were the beginning of the suicide of the Russian kingdom.

Under Alexei Mikhailovich, many liturgical rites and traditions were altered—crossing oneself, the order of baptism and the liturgy, all church chants and prayers. Not a single line in any sacred book remained unchanged—revised, and often incorrectly or mistakenly so. This brought about a profound calamity for our people.

One cannot but agree with the writer Alexander Isaevich Solzhenitsyn:
“Forty years after barely surviving the Time of Troubles, the entire nation, still unhealed, was shaken to its very foundations—spiritually and in daily life—by the church schism. And never again—not for the next 300 years—did Orthodoxy in Russia recover its vital strength, the strength that had upheld the Russian spirit for more than half a millennium. The Schism echoed as our weakness even in the twentieth century.”

Just as drugs do not immediately kill a person but slowly destroy them, so too did the church reforms gradually weaken the Russian state—until they finally killed it.

After all, the reforms of Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich and Patriarch Nikon affected not only worship, book printing, or iconography. They touched upon the very mindset of the people, their social views, and their worldview—what we would today call ideology.

The old Russian ideology—“Moscow is the Third Rome”—was cohesive and self-sufficient. The historian Nikolai Fedorovich Kapterev wrote of it:

“This is how the Russians came to view themselves—as a unique, God-chosen people. They were a kind of new Israel, within whom alone the true faith and genuine piety had been preserved, lost or distorted by all other nations. This new Israel was entrusted with a sacred treasure that had to be guarded with the utmost care. This was their primary historical mission, the guarantee of all their successes and prosperity. To lose this entrusted treasure would mean the destruction of true piety throughout the entire universe, the establishment of the kingdom of the Antichrist on earth, and, for Israel itself, the inevitable downfall of its state.”

The new ideology of the Tsar and the Patriarch was corrupt and feeble. It was aptly expressed by the supporters of church reforms in their debate with Protopope Avvakum:

“Our Russian saints were foolish and ignorant men. Why should we believe them? They were uneducated and could not even read!”

Such an ideology fostered in our people a sense of their own inferiority and inadequacy. The message was clear: We Russians are ignorant and uncivilized. Six centuries of Christianity have taught us nothing. We must learn everything anew.

Under Tsar Peter I, this national uncertainty turned into widespread madness. From then on, it became perfectly acceptable to ridicule Russia. It was unclean, impoverished, backward. We had nothing of value. We had everything to learn.

And so, our ancestors began to learn obediently. Under Alexei Mikhailovich—from the Greeks, Little Russians, Belarusians, and Poles. Under Peter Alekseevich—from the Germans, Dutch, English, and Swedes.

But this was not true learning—it was more akin to mindless mimicry, an apish imitation.

The Greeks teach crossing oneself with three fingers? Very well, we shall cross ourselves thus.
The Little Russians teach a different way of painting icons? So be it, we shall paint them that way.
The Germans teach shaving beards? Gut, we shall shave.
The Dutch teach smoking tobacco? Alright, boys, light up!

The same thing is happening in our own time. Only now, we are not imitating Europeans, but Americans: jeans, hamburgers, chips, Pepsi-Cola, Coca-Cola, and Halloween.

In the Soviet Union, there was a concept called “the corrupting influence of the West.” Today, it may seem ridiculous and absurd. But in truth, this very influence explains many of the vices and misfortunes of modern Russia.

And strangely enough, it is not television or the internet that is to blame for the spread of Western influence, but rather Alexei Mikhailovich and Nikon. It is because of them that Russian youth, from their school days, are accustomed to tobacco, drugs, beer, vodka, loud music, and foolish films.

Had the Tsar and the Patriarch in the seventeenth century not slavishly fawned over everything foreign, today our homeland would be a mighty Christian nation.

The image of this unrealized Russia can still be glimpsed in Old Belief, in the Old Faith, in ancient Orthodoxy.

Old Believers are those Christians who did not accept the liturgical reforms and the subsequent transformation of Russian life. They remained faithful to the ancient Church traditions and the legacy of their fathers. It is about them that this book speaks.

Old Belief is a kind of Russian Atlantis.

It is like the legendary city of Kitezh, which sank to the bottom of Lake Svetloyar. Centuries pass, yet beneath the waters, the city continues its unchanged, ancient Russian way of life. And only those pure in heart can penetrate the mystery of Kitezh, hear the tolling of its bells, and see its golden-domed churches.

So too is Old Belief—a reflection of Holy Rus, a memory of the Third Rome, a dream of the Heavenly Jerusalem. Only one who remembers his roots and seeks the truth will find the Old Faith. To the Ivans who do not remember their kin and who scorn the past, the truth remains hidden.

Alas, history knows no subjunctive mood. Yet how tempting it is to dream of what Russia might have been had it remained Old Believer! Undoubtedly, it would have been one of the strongest world powers.

For Old Belief is not merely about ancient rites, the two-fingered sign of the cross, the three-barred (eight-pointed) cross, and beards. It is also about honesty, loyalty, sobriety, and diligence.

Solzhenitsyn rightly believed that if not for the reforms of the seventeenth century, “modern terrorism would not have been born in Russia, nor would Lenin’s revolution have come into the world through Russia. In an Old Believer Russia, it would have been impossible.”

Truly, this is the real Russia that we have lost. This is what should be mourned. This is what deserves our lament.

It is hard to believe, but a hundred years ago, no fewer than fifteen million Old Believers lived in Russia.

There was a time when entire regions were inhabited predominantly by Old Believers. The Soviet government, having devastated the Russian countryside, also devastated these regions. Where once stood prosperous peasant farms and Old Believer churches, now there is only desolation and neglect. Abandoned cemeteries and crumbling church ruins, overgrown with nettles and fireweed, are all that remain of once-thriving villages.

Once, even entire cities were populated mainly by Old Believers. Wealthy industrialists and merchants cared not only for filling their coffers but also for the salvation of their souls. That is why they built not only factories and shops but also the temples of God. The Soviet government showed no mercy to these merchants, nor to their enterprises and trade. They vanished into oblivion. And with them disappeared the fairs and markets, the banks and factories, the almshouses and churches.

Today, in some town—unnamed, Asian in its bleakness, dreary, dusty, and forgotten by all—the youth pass their evenings with a cigarette in their mouths and a beer in their hands. They do not recall that a hundred years ago, their town had several Old Believer churches, and that their great-great-grandparents once walked about in kaftans and sarafans, caps and headscarves. In those days, to see a man on the street with a cigarette or a bottle would have been unthinkable.

If the Russian land and the Russian people are not to perish, we must remember our roots, our ancestors who did not accept the innovations of Alexei Mikhailovich and Nikon. We must know who we are, whose blood runs in our veins.

The writer Valentin Grigorievich Rasputin once observed:
“Truth is in memory. He who has no memory has no life.”
A strong historical memory and a firm knowledge of the past are the keys to our survival, our future.

No wonder Pushkin wrote:
“Respect for the past—this is the mark that distinguishes civilization from savagery.”
And he also wrote:
“Savagery, baseness, and ignorance do not respect the past, groveling only before the present.”

These words are especially important today, as our homeland endures difficult times.

The future of Russia, dear friends, depends on us. What will become of the Russian state and the Russian people in half a century? Will our language survive? Will our descendants continue to profess Christianity? Will they still read Pushkin?

That depends on how well we learn our history and what lessons we take from it.

Apostle Andrew

The centuries-old history of Russia is inextricably linked with Christianity. The Gospel was proclaimed in our lands long before the emergence of the Russian state. Ancient chronicles name Apostle Andrew as the first preacher of Christianity in Russia.

He was a native of the Judean city of Bethsaida and the elder brother of the Apostle Peter. The brothers were simple fishermen, catching fish in the Sea of Galilee.

When John the Baptist began preaching repentance and baptism for the forgiveness of sins, Andrew became his disciple. However, upon meeting Jesus Christ, he followed Him. Andrew’s encounter with the Savior is described in the Gospel. One day, when John saw Christ, he said to his followers: — “Behold the Lamb of God!”

Hearing this, two of John’s disciples, one of whom was Andrew, followed the Lord. Turning around and seeing them, He asked: — “What do you seek?”

They replied: — “Teacher, where are you staying?”

The Savior answered: — “Come and see.”

They went and saw where He was staying, and they remained with Him that day. In the evening, Andrew found his brother Peter and told him: — “We have found the Messiah!”

Later, as the Savior walked by the sea, He saw Andrew and Peter casting nets, and He said to them: — “Follow Me, and I will make you fishers of men.”

The brothers immediately left their nets and followed the Lord. From that time on, they followed Him closely, witnessing His saving teachings and countless miracles.

Andrew became the first-called apostle — the first disciple of Christ. For this reason, he is known as the First-Called.

Along with three other chosen disciples, Andrew participated in the Savior’s conversation about the end of the world. At that time, the Lord warned the apostles about false teachers and preachers to come: — “Take heed that no one deceives you! For many will come in My name, saying, ‘I am He,’ and will deceive many. If anyone says to you, ‘Look, here is the Christ!’ or ‘Look, He is there!’ do not believe it. For false Christs and false prophets will arise and perform signs and wonders, to lead astray, if possible, even the elect.”

The Savior also warned of future persecutions, trials, and sufferings that awaited those who believed in Him: — “They will deliver you up to councils, and you will be beaten in synagogues. You will be brought before governors and kings for My sake, as a testimony to them. But when they arrest you and deliver you up, do not worry beforehand about what you will say, nor premeditate. But whatever is given to you in that hour, speak that; for it is not you who speak, but the Holy Spirit. And you will be hated by all for My name’s sake. But he who endures to the end will be saved.”

After the Lord’s ascension into heaven, the apostles cast lots to determine who would go to which country to preach. The lot fell for Andrew to go to Scythia.

In ancient times, Scythia referred to the northern coast of the Black Sea, inhabited by the warlike Scythians. They roamed with countless herds across the vast steppes from the Danube River to the Caucasus Mountains. A Scythian kingdom existed in Crimea.

On his way to Scythia, the apostle passed through many Greek cities along the shores of the Black Sea, preaching Christ and His Gospel everywhere. Many times, Saint Andrew endured suffering for his faith. He was beaten with sticks, dragged across the ground, pulled by his hands and feet, and pelted with stones. But with God’s help, he bravely endured everything and continued his preaching.

In Crimea, the apostle visited the city of Korsun and the shores of the Bosporus. From there, according to the ancient Russian chronicle, Saint Andrew, together with his disciples, decided to head north — to the lands where the Slavs lived.

The apostle sailed upstream on the Dnieper River. One night, he camped near some high hills. When he woke up in the morning, he stood and said to his disciples: — “Do you see these hills? On these hills, the grace of God will shine, and a great city will arise here, and God will raise many churches.”

Andrew ascended the hills, blessed them, placed a cross, prayed to God, and then descended. Several centuries later, the city of Kiev was founded in that very place.

The chronicle tells that, continuing his travels, the apostle visited the Slavs who lived where modern-day Novgorod now stands. He witnessed how our ancestors used whisks in the bathhouse and was very surprised by this. Later, he recalled: — “I saw a wonder in the land of the Slavs! I saw wooden bathhouses. They heat them strongly, strip naked, pour themselves with kvass, take young branches, and beat themselves. They beat themselves to the point of exhaustion, barely able to crawl out, nearly half-dead. Then they pour cold water over themselves and revive. And they do this constantly, not tortured by anyone but torturing themselves. Yet they consider this a cleansing, not torment.”

During his journeys, Andrew visited the small Greek city of Byzantium, located on the shores of the Bosporus, at the crossroads of the main trade routes between Europe and Asia. There he preached and established a Christian community. In the year 37, the apostle ordained Stachys as a bishop for this community.

Three hundred years later, in 330, the great Emperor Constantine transferred the capital of the Roman Empire to Byzantium. From then on, Byzantium was known as New Rome, Tsargrad — the city of the emperor, or Constantinople — the city of Constantine. The bishops of Byzantium, the successors of Stachys, became the leading pastors in the Greek lands. From that time on, they were called the patriarchs of Tsargrad.

Tsargrad and the Greek Church hold a special place in the history of Russian Christianity. After all, it was from here that we received the Orthodox faith and the pious priesthood.

From Byzantium, Andrew traveled to the Greek city of Patras, where he converted all the inhabitants to Christianity. It was there that he was destined to complete his earthly journey by enduring a martyr’s death.

Through the laying on of hands, the apostle healed many of the city’s residents from various illnesses, including the wife and brother of the city governor, Aegeates. However, the ruler did not accept Andrew’s preaching and did not believe in Christ. He hated the apostle and ordered him to be captured and crucified. This took place around the year 70.

The Almighty Lord punished Aegeates. The ruler fell from a high wall, crashed, and died.

However, the work begun by Saint Andrew did not perish. It continues to this day. The Gospel faith, proclaimed by Andrew the First-Called, passed from Tsargrad to Rus, to Kiev and Moscow. From there, it entered the Old Belief, which has steadfastly and firmly preserved the traditions, customs, and rites of the ancient apostles.

Old Belief is a remarkable window into eternity. Through it, we can peer deep into the centuries. Through it, the unfading light of original Christianity reaches us.

The Baptism of Rus

The ancient Slavs, our ancestors, were pagans. They did not know the true God, did not believe in Him, but worshiped the sun and the moon, the sky and the earth, fire and water. The Slavs called the mountains, trees, stones, and all natural phenomena — lightning, thunder, wind, and rain — gods and spirits.

Pagan belief was not good; there was neither love, nor light, nor joy in it, only malice, darkness, and fear. The Slavs made idols out of stone and wood, representing their imagined gods. These idols were honored, prayed to, and offered sacrifices.

From ancient times, the Russian land was vast and abundant. Our merchants traded widely in furs, bread, flax, honey, wax, and swords. Our princes were warlike and successful, and the fame of their victories spread throughout the world.

Rulers of neighboring states wanted to see the Slavs as allies and friends. The city of Kiev, the capital of the ancient Russian state, was visited by ambassadors and merchants from all corners of the world. From the south came the Greeks, Persians, and Arabs; from the east — the Khazars and Bulgars; from the west — the Germans (as all Europeans were called in Rus).

In the 9th century, Slavic tribes began to accept Christianity. During this century, Bulgaria and Great Moravia were baptized. For these newly converted peoples, the brothers Cyril and Methodius, the holy enlighteners and teachers of the Slavs, created a special alphabet and translated church books from Greek.

The first Christians also appeared in Kiev. These were merchants who traded in the magnificent Tsargrad (Constantinople) and accepted Orthodoxy there. The Christians of Kiev gathered for prayer in the church of the Holy Prophet Elijah. But this was only the faint dawn, heralding the rising sun of the true faith over Rus.

The Christian dawn first truly illuminated our land during the days of Saint Princess Olga, who ruled Rus after the death of her husband, Prince Igor. In 955, Olga visited Tsargrad, where she was baptized by the Greek emperor and patriarch.

Despite her efforts, Olga could not convince her son, Prince Svyatoslav, to accept baptism. Svyatoslav was a stern warrior who spent his life on campaigns with his troops and in bloody battles. His warriors were pagans, and he wanted to remain a pagan. To his mother, the prince replied: — “How can I alone accept a different faith? The troops would laugh at me!”

However, Svyatoslav did not forbid any of his warriors who wished to be baptized, though he only made fun of them.

After Svyatoslav’s death and the subsequent princely feuds, in 980, his youngest son, Prince Vladimir, took control of Kiev. He was known as Vladimir the Great to the people, and the Church called him Saint Vladimir.

Like his father, Vladimir worshiped idols, but paganism did not sit well with him. Envoys came to the prince from the Bulgars, Germans, and Khazars, each praising their own faith: the Bulgars — Islam, the Germans — Latin Christianity, and the Khazars — Judaism. Yet none of these faiths appealed to Vladimir.

Then, the Orthodox Greeks sent a preacher. He spoke at length about life and death, about good and evil, about the existence of the world. These words resonated deeply with Vladimir. Generously rewarding the Greek, the prince sent him away and began to ponder. He gathered his boyars and elders and asked: — “The Bulgars, Germans, Khazars, and Greeks have come to me. Each praises their own faith. What do you advise?”

The boyars and elders replied: — “Know this, prince, that no one speaks ill of their own faith, but only praises it. If you want to truly understand these foreign beliefs, send envoys to different lands and nations. Let them learn how each serves God.”

And so, Vladimir sent his envoys, instructing them to study the faiths of all the peoples. The envoys visited many lands, but they were unimpressed with the prayers of the Bulgars and Germans. They saw no joy or beauty in their worship.

However, when the envoys arrived in Tsargrad, the Greek emperors, the co-ruling brothers Basil and Constantine, led them into the majestic church of Hagia Sophia for the solemn patriarchal service: ruby and green lamps shimmered, disordered rows and bundles of candles burned hotly and brightly, choirs praised Christ, fragrant incense smoke wafted through the air, and the gold-embroidered vestments of the clergy glittered.

Overcome with joy, the envoys returned to Kiev and reported to Vladimir, the boyars, and the elders: — “We have visited many peoples, but their faiths are poor. There is no joy or beauty in them. We arrived in Tsargrad, and the Greeks brought us to the place where they worship their God. We were filled with such joy that we did not know whether we were in heaven or on earth. We saw such beauty and glory that we cannot describe it. We only know that God dwells with these people. We cannot forget that beauty, for anyone who has tasted something sweet will not afterward desire something bitter. And we no longer want to be pagans!”

The boyars and elders said to the prince: — “If the faith of the Greeks were not good, your grandmother Olga, who was a wise woman, would not have accepted it.”

Then Vladimir asked: — “Where shall we be baptized?”

And the boyars and elders replied: — “Wherever it pleases you.”

In 988, the prince of Kiev led his army to Crimea, laid siege to the Greek city of Korsun, and demanded that the emperors Basil and Constantine send him their sister, Princess Anna — Vladimir had decided to marry her.

Basil and Constantine responded that they could not give their sister, a devout Christian, in marriage to an unbelieving pagan. Then Vladimir demanded that Anna come to Korsun with a bishop and priests to baptize him.

When the princess arrived in Crimea, Vladimir was baptized and was given a new name — Basil. Along with the prince, his boyars and warriors were also baptized. Afterward, Vladimir married Anna.

Upon returning to Kiev, the prince ordered the destruction of all idols — some were chopped to pieces, others were thrown into the fire. The chief idol he commanded to be thrown into the Dnieper. Then he sent a proclamation throughout the city: — “If anyone does not come to the river tomorrow to be baptized, whether rich or poor, old or young, they will be my enemy!”

The next morning, Vladimir went to the Dnieper with priests and deacons. There, a great multitude of people had already gathered. They entered the water and stood — some up to their necks, others to their chests, and some holding infants in their arms. The priests baptized all the people of Kiev, and the prince ordered the construction of holy churches where the idols had once stood.

Thus Kiev was baptized, and with it, all the land of Rus. Churches of God were built throughout the cities, priests served in them, and children began to learn literacy. Greek architects, iconographers, scribes, and hymnographers came to Rus, teaching our people all their marvelous wisdom.

Holy Rus

Like a sponge absorbs water, newly converted Rus eagerly absorbed the Christian faith received from the Greeks. Our ancestors were diligent students and soon equaled their teachers in many ways.

The land of Rus was filled with numerous churches and monasteries, adorned with marvelous icons, and enriched with wise books. Our cities—Vladimir, Kiev, Novgorod the Great, Polotsk, Pskov, Rostov, Ryazan, Suzdal, Tver, Chernihiv, and Yaroslavl—shone with the splendor of the Church.

At that time, illiterate kings ruled in Europe, unable to sign their own decrees, while in Rus, the princes loved and respected books. In those days, church services in Europe were conducted in Latin, a language incomprehensible to the people, whereas in Rus, the Gospel was preached in the accessible Slavic language. In Europe, the Dark Ages of cruelty and superstition prevailed, while in Rus, magnificent churches were being built, akin to the beautiful Greek temples.

One notable advocate for Christian enlightenment and the wisdom of books was Yaroslav, the son of Prince Vladimir, who earned the title “the Wise” (he passed away in 1054). The chronicles say of him: “And under him, the Christian faith began to grow and spread. And Yaroslav loved books, reading them often, day and night. He gathered many scribes, and they translated from Greek into the Slavic language. And they wrote many books, with which faithful people instruct themselves and delight in divine teachings… And having written them, he placed them in the Church of Saint Sophia, which he had built himself. And he erected other churches throughout the cities and towns. Yaroslav rejoiced, seeing the multitude of churches and Christian people.”

Rus began to produce its own saints, who amazed the world with their love, humility, and piety. It became evident to the entire world that the Spirit of God had overshadowed our land, and the blessing of the Lord had descended upon our people. That is why our country has long been called Holy Rus.

The first Russian saints were the brothers Boris and Gleb, sons of Prince Vladimir. In 1015, they were murdered by the followers of Prince Svyatopolk, who sought to seize the throne of Kiev. Refusing to fight for power, Boris and Gleb met their assassins with humility and prayer. From the blood of these passion-bearers, which soaked our land, countless hosts of new saints sprang forth.

In the middle of the 11th century, one of the first monasteries in Rus was founded in Kiev—the famous Pechersk Monastery with the Church of the Dormition of the Most Holy Theotokos. It was established by the holy fathers Anthony and Theodosius, renowned for their strict monastic lives and piety.

The monks of this monastery were known for their asceticism and miracles. Many saints—both venerable ones and bishops—came from among the monastery brethren.

Now, from our own land, the Gospel message—the joyful news of the true God and the Son of God, Jesus Christ, who conquered death, trampled the devil, and saved humankind—was being spread. Russian missionaries carried this message to distant peoples who still lived in paganism.

In the 11th century, Bishop Leontius (who passed away around 1077) went from Kiev to the north of the Ancient Russian state, to the city of Rostov, bringing the teaching of the crucified and risen Christ. There he encountered stubborn, harsh, and wild pagans, from whom two of his predecessors had already been forced to flee.

The adult inhabitants of Rostov resisted Saint Leontius’ preaching and refused to accept baptism. Seeing their stubbornness, the bishop turned to the children with gentle, persuasive words. He gathered them in the church, taught them, and converted them to Christianity. Little by little, as the children were baptized, their parents followed. This is how the land of Rostov was baptized.

To the north, into the deep forests, the light of the Gospel truth was brought by a native of Rostov—Saint Stephen, Bishop of Perm (who passed away in 1396), who converted the Permians. As a young man, grieving over the ignorance of this people, he learned the Permian language and translated Christian books into it, for which he created a special alphabet. Arriving in this distant and harsh land, Stephen baptized the Permians and eradicated paganism.

In the 16th century, at the far northern edge, on the Kola Peninsula, where pagan Lapps lived along the shores of the cold sea, the monks Tryphon and Theodorite preached the Christian faith. They destroyed idols, scattered the priests, and proclaimed the Gospel to the Lapps in their native language, baptizing many people.

No misfortune or disaster could diminish the faith of our ancestors. Invaders attacked Rus—Pechenegs, Polovtsy, Mongols, Tatars, Lithuanians, Poles, Germans, and Swedes, all of whom sought to enslave her and destroy Orthodoxy—but our people stood firm. Their faith grew strong and was tempered, like steel forged in fire.

The holy prince Alexander Yaroslavich, known as Nevsky (who passed away in 1263), a faithful defender of the true faith, defeated the enemies of Rus more than once. On more than one occasion, the armies of arrogant German knights fled from his mighty sword. When the Germans could not conquer Rus by force, they resorted to trickery, sending envoys to the prince with a proposal to accept the Latin faith.

But Saint Alexander did not betray Orthodoxy and replied to the foreigners: — “We will not accept the faith from you!”

With prayer, Saint Prince Dovmont, baptized as Timothy (who passed away in 1299), also defeated the enemies. A Lithuanian by birth, he settled in the city of Pskov, where he was unanimously chosen as prince by the local people. He defeated the Germans and Lithuanians many times, rallying the people for battle with the victorious call: — “People of Pskov! Whoever among you is old is my father, and whoever is young is my brother. I have heard of your bravery throughout the lands. Now, brothers, it is time for us to face life or death. Let us stand for the Holy Trinity, for the holy churches, and for our Fatherland!”

With the blessing of Saint Sergius of Radonezh, Grand Prince Dmitry Ivanovich, known as Donskoy (who passed away in 1389), courageously went to the field of Kulikovo and, in a bloody battle, defeated the Mongol and Tatar hordes…

The Great Schism

Over the course of two thousand years, the Church has endured more than one schism. Throughout the centuries, heretics repeatedly broke away from it, leading entire nations and countries in Asia and Africa astray. Even in ancient times, the Armenians, Egyptians, Syrians, and Ethiopians fell away from the Church, enticed by false teachings. But the greatest division was the Great Schism between the Eastern and Western Churches, which occurred in 1054, six hundred years before the Russian schism.

From time immemorial, differences in worship and church governance existed between Tsargrad and Rome. For example, the Greeks celebrated the liturgy with red wine and leavened wheat bread, while the Latins used white wine and unleavened bread—wafers baked from dough made solely of flour and water.

Furthermore, the Greeks did not hinder the nations who accepted Christianity from them from praying to God in their own languages. They encouraged the Gospel’s spread among these peoples, the creation of unique scripts for them, and the translation of church books into their languages. This was the case with our ancestors, the ancient Slavs. However, the Romans prayed in Latin, demanded the same from all Christian nations, and disapproved of translating the Bible and services into other languages.

Greek priests were allowed to marry before receiving holy orders, while the priests of the Western Church were required to observe celibacy. Additionally, Greek clergy and monks wore beards, while the Latins were clean-shaven.

The Greeks recognized only Church councils as the highest spiritual authority. The Latins, however, believed that the governance of the Church rested solely in the hands of the Patriarch of Rome—the Pope. They called him the Vicar of Christ, the successor of the Apostle Peter, and the supreme shepherd of the entire Church, over which he had full authority.

Over time, theological differences were added to these distinctions. However, the primary conflict revolved around the authority of the pope, which the Greek emperors and bishops did not acknowledge.

In 1048, Leo IX was elected Pope of Rome. At that time, Rome’s main enemies were the Normans—fearless seafarers from the north who struck terror across Europe with their raids. They had reached the Mediterranean Sea, captured the island of Sicily, and now threatened Italy and Rome.

The pope decided to seek assistance from the Greek emperor, Constantine IX Monomachos, and the Patriarch of Tsargrad, Michael.

Constantine was a careless and frivolous man. Therefore, the pope entered into correspondence with the patriarch. In his letters, Leo insisted on his primacy. He told Michael that the entire Eastern Church should obey and revere the Western Church as its mother. With this position, the pope justified the differences between the Latins and the Greeks.

The patriarch was willing to reconcile any differences but considered himself equal to the pope. Leo, however, refused to accept such equality.

In the early spring of 1054, a papal delegation arrived in Tsargrad, led by Bishop Humbert, a hot-tempered and arrogant man. The envoys were tasked with discussing the possibility of a military alliance between the Romans and the Greeks, as well as reconciling with the patriarch without diminishing the pope’s dignity.

However, from the very beginning, the Latins treated Michael without the proper respect, acting haughtily and coldly. When they met the patriarch, they did not bow or offer him the customary greetings. Seeing this behavior, Michael responded in kind—refusing to negotiate with them.

The Romans wanted to teach the disobedient Greeks a lesson, as a teacher would punish unruly students. They began staging theological disputes in the city, pointing out the differences in worship to the Greeks. Chief among their concerns was the question of which bread to use for the liturgy—leavened or unleavened. They also argued over whether bishops, priests, and monks should wear beards.

Meanwhile, Pope Leo died. When Humbert learned of this, he decided to return to Rome. But before leaving, he expressed his displeasure with the Greeks in an unusual way. On Saturday, July 15, 1054, during the patriarchal service, the papal envoys entered the Hagia Sophia, walked into the altar, and placed a bull of excommunication on the altar, condemning Michael and all who shared his views.

A dead silence fell over the church, which was filled with worshipers—everyone was stunned by what they saw. The Latins left the church, saying: — “Let God see and judge!”

The patriarch ordered the bull to be read. It declared: “Humbert, by the grace of God, bishop of the Roman Church, to all the children of the Church… By the authority of the Holy and Indivisible Trinity and the apostolic see, of which we are emissaries, and of all the Orthodox fathers who attended the seven Ecumenical Councils, we pronounce excommunication on Michael, which our lord the pope has decreed upon him and his accomplices unless they come to their senses. Anathema to Michael, who has misused the name of patriarch, and to all his adherents, together with all heretics, and along with the devil and his angels. Amen.”

Cries of outrage echoed through the church. The people supported the patriarch. A riot broke out, nearly costing the papal envoys their lives as they barely managed to flee Tsargrad. Five days later, Michael convened a council, during which the events were discussed and the Eastern Church’s response determined. It was decided to declare anathema on Humbert and the other envoys.

Thus began the Great Schism.

For the next century and a half, the Greeks and Romans made various attempts to negotiate reconciliation. The final division between the Eastern and Western Churches occurred after the sack of Tsargrad by the Latins in 1204.

That year, the Italians and French, who had long envied the glory, wealth, and beauty of the Greek capital, captured, plundered, and burned the great city. This was a devastating blow to the Greek Empire, from which it never recovered.

Over the centuries of the schism, the Roman Church gradually drifted further away from Orthodoxy. New theological and liturgical differences emerged. Of course, the most significant change was the alteration of the rite of baptism by the Latins.

The ancient Church knew only one way of performing baptism: by triple full immersion in water with the invocation of the names of the Holy Trinity—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. This was how baptism was performed since the time of the apostles. This was how the Greek Church baptized, and following it, so did the Russian Church.

However, the Latins began to baptize not by immersion, but by pouring or sprinkling water. The Eastern Church does not recognize such a rite as valid. Therefore, from time immemorial, Latins who convert to Orthodoxy are baptized by triple immersion.

The Fall of Constantinople

The Greeks called the capital of their country—the glorious Tsargrad—“New Rome” or “Second Rome,” reminding all nations that their state was the successor of the mighty Roman Empire, which once ruled half the world.

But as the centuries passed, the Greek state weakened and lost its former power. From the east, it was attacked by the Muslim Turks. Their countless armies captured and enslaved Greek lands and neighboring countries, including Slavic ones like Bulgaria and Serbia. By the 15th century, all that remained of the great Christian empire was its capital, surrounded on all sides by enemies.

The penultimate Greek emperor, John VIII Palaiologos, sought help against the Turks from the rulers of strong and wealthy Europe. The condition for this help was well-known: the Orthodox peoples had to submit to the Latins and recognize the Pope of Rome as the spiritual ruler of the entire Christian world.

After long negotiations, in 1439, in the Italian city of Florence, the Greek emperor and the Pope of Rome signed a union—an agreement for the unification of the Orthodox and Latins. It was also signed by Isidore, the Metropolitan of Moscow and the head of the Russian Church.

However, most of the Orthodox people did not agree to this betrayal of faith and rejected the union. The Grand Prince of Moscow, Vasily II, also rejected it. From then on, relations between the Russians and the Greeks began to cool. The fall of Tsargrad in 1453 was seen in Russia as divine punishment for the Greeks’ betrayal of Orthodoxy…

In 1451, a new ruler ascended the throne of the powerful Turkish state—Sultan Mehmed II—a cruel and treacherous man, devious and corrupt, who dreamed of capturing Tsargrad.

In 1452, the Turks openly began preparing for war against the Christians. The last Greek emperor, Constantine XI Palaiologos, a capable and wise man, hurried to gather all necessary resources for the defense of Tsargrad. Supplies and ammunition were brought into the city, and the walls and towers were quickly repaired.

Constantine understood that the Greeks would not be able to defend the city on their own. He pleaded for help from the rulers of Europe and the Pope of Rome. But no one came to his aid. In April 1453, a massive Turkish army surrounded Tsargrad by land and sea.

A long siege began. The Turks bombarded the city daily with cannons and launched repeated assaults. Yet the Christians skillfully defended themselves, repelling one attack after another. It was truly remarkable, as merchants, their servants, craftsmen, and even monks stood on the city walls alongside seasoned warriors.

Mehmed sent envoys to Constantine, declaring: — “The time has come to carry out what we have long planned in our hearts. What say you? Will you abandon the city and leave? Or do you wish to resist and, together with your life, lose your property, while your people, taken captive by the Turks, will be scattered across the earth?”

The emperor ordered a message to be sent to the sultan: — “To surrender the city is not within my power, nor the power of anyone else living here. By unanimous decision, we are all willing to die and will not spare our lives.”

Infuriated, Mehmed commanded the Turks to prepare for a final assault. More than one hundred thousand Muslims gathered beneath the walls of Tsargrad. They were opposed by fewer than five thousand Christians.

On the morning of May 28, 1453, Constantine gathered his commanders. He begged them not to allow the Muslim desecration of Christian holy places and to protect the women and children from falling into the hands of the Turks. He then went to the wounded and exhausted soldiers and bid each of them farewell. Many old warriors, who had seen much in life, could not hold back their tears.

In the evening, Constantine prayed in the great church of Tsargrad—Hagia Sophia—and then went to the palace, gathered his household, and said his goodbyes. All the city’s inhabitants did the same. Friends and strangers tearfully embraced on the streets. Women wept as they saw their fathers, brothers, husbands, and sons off to their final battle.

Shortly after midnight, a terrible screech and shouts were heard—the Turks launched their attack. Mehmed himself led them into battle. Trumpets blared, drums rattled, and cannons roared. But all this was drowned out by the deep tolling of the bells—the bells of the churches of Tsargrad sounded the alarm.

After a bloody battle, the Turks unexpectedly managed to capture part of the wall and raise their banner above it. The frightened Greeks began to retreat, and no one thought about continuing the defense. Only the brave Constantine continued to fight at the city gates. Surrounded by the Muslims, he cried out in despair: — “Is there no Christian here who will take off my head?”

A Turk ran up and struck the last Greek emperor from behind with a fatal blow of the sword.

The Muslims, consumed by their lust for plunder, violence, and bloodshed, stormed into the city. They broke into houses, capturing everyone inside. They only took the young as prisoners to sell into slavery, while the elderly were killed, and infants were thrown into the streets.

In terror, the townspeople fled to the church of Hagia Sophia. Soon, the enormous building was filled with refugees who prayed, hoping for miraculous salvation. But the Muslims reached the church, broke down its doors with axes, and began binding the Christians—men with ropes and women with their own headscarves.

After binding their captives, the Turks desecrated and looted the church: they hacked apart the holy icons, stealing the decorations from them, shattered and carried off the shining lamps, and plundered the golden and silver vessels used in worship.

The sight of Tsargrad was horrifying! The once impregnable walls and towers were destroyed, ancient churches and monasteries desecrated and looted, and the vast squares were filled with dead bodies. Christian blood flowed in streams through the streets. Women screamed. Children wept. Fires raged. And in the flickering light of the flames, the terrifying shadows of Muslims moved through the city, looting, enslaving, and killing.

By the evening of May 29, Sultan Mehmed arrived in the ravaged city. Riding a white horse, he entered the church of Hagia Sophia and stood still, amazed by its beauty. Immediately, the sultan ordered that the great church be converted into a mosque—an Islamic temple.

Thus, the power of the Greeks was extinguished forever. The Grand Duchy of Moscow remained the only free Orthodox state in the world. From the defeated Greeks, the sacred and grave responsibility to preserve the true faith passed to the Russian people.

To this day, this faith is passed down among our people from generation to generation with the utmost care, as a burning candle is passed from one person to another in the wind. May it never be extinguished!

The Baptism of Princess Olga

(From the “Tale of Bygone Years”)

In the year 6463 (955), Olga went to the Greeks and came to Tsargrad. At that time, the emperor was Constantine, son of Leo, and Olga came before him. When the emperor saw her, he noticed that she was exceedingly beautiful and intelligent. He marveled at her wisdom during their conversations and said to her: — “You are worthy to rule in Tsargrad with us.”

But she, after thinking it over, said to the emperor: — “I am a pagan. If you want to baptize me, then baptize me yourself, otherwise, I will not be baptized.”

And so, the emperor baptized her together with the patriarch. After being enlightened by the sacrament, she rejoiced in both soul and body. The patriarch instructed her in the faith, saying to her: — “Blessed are you among the women of Rus, for you have loved the light and forsaken the darkness. The sons of Rus will bless you for generations to come, to the last of your grandchildren.”

He taught her about the church order, prayer, fasting, almsgiving, and bodily purity. She bowed her head, listening to his teaching like a sponge soaking up water. She bowed to the patriarch and said: — “By your prayers, master, may I be kept safe from the snares of the devil.”

She was given the Christian name Helen, like the ancient empress, the mother of Constantine the Great. The patriarch blessed her and sent her on her way.

After her baptism, the emperor summoned her and said: — “I want to take you as my wife.”

But she replied: — “How can you take me as your wife when you have baptized me and called me your daughter? And Christians have no such law—you know this yourself.”

And the emperor said: — “You have outwitted me, Olga!”

He gave her many gifts—gold, silver, silks, and various vessels—and sent her away, calling her his daughter. When she was ready to return home, she went to the patriarch to ask for his blessing for her journey. She said to him: — “My people and my son are pagans. May God protect me from all evil!”

And the patriarch said: — “Faithful child, you have been baptized into Christ and have put on Christ. Christ will protect you, just as He protected Enoch in the first generations, then Noah in the ark, Abraham from Abimelech, Lot from the Sodomites, Moses from Pharaoh, David from Saul, the three youths from the fiery furnace, and Daniel from the lions. So too will He deliver you from the devil and his snares.”

And the patriarch blessed her. She returned to her land in peace and came to Kiev.

Third Rome

In 1472, Grand Prince Ivan III, the son of Vasily the Dark, married Princess Sophia Palaiologina, the niece of the last Greek emperor, Constantine XI. Sophia arrived in Moscow from Italy, and along with her came the coat of arms of the Greek autocrats—the double-headed eagle. From then on, it became the symbol of the independence of Russian rulers. From that moment, Moscow began to be called the “Third Rome”—the successor of the great Tsargrad, the Greek state, and the Greek Church.

At that time, Christians would say: — “Ancient Rome fell due to impiety. The Second Rome fell due to the dominance of Muslims. The Third Rome is Moscow, and there will be no Fourth.”

It was also said of our Church: — “It is worthy to call it heaven on earth, shining like the great sun in the midst of the Russian land, adorned in every way with miracle-working icons and the relics of saints. And if God wished to dwell on earth, He would reside in it and nowhere else.”

And from 1547, the Grand Prince of Moscow began to be called Tsar—the autocratic ruler and defender of the Orthodox faith. The first Russian tsar was Ivan IV, known as the Terrible, the grandson of Ivan III and Sophia Palaiologina.

In 1551, under Ivan the Terrible and Saint Macarius, Metropolitan of Moscow and All Rus—a kind shepherd and a wise scholar—a great church council was held in Moscow. It became known as the Stoglav Council because its decisions were set forth in one hundred chapters.

This council adopted many important decrees aimed at promoting spiritual enlightenment, spreading books, flourishing church iconography, strengthening piety in the country, and eradicating poverty and vice.

In its concern for uniformity in church rites, the council confirmed and permanently established in the Russian Church those rites, customs, and ceremonies that we had inherited from the Greeks and carefully preserved for centuries, now known as the “Old Rites.”

By the blessing of Metropolitan Macarius, the printing of books began in Moscow. Until then, only handwritten books existed in Rus. They were few in number: a large book took a long time to copy and was very expensive.

But around 1553, the Gospel—the first Russian printed book—was published. In 1564, Deacon Ivan Fyodorov published the famous book Apostle. And in 1581, the Ostroh Bible, the first complete Bible in the Slavic language, was printed.

The widespread distribution of printed books strengthened the Church. However, while blessing the printing of books, Metropolitan Macarius also cared about spreading the Gospel to all peoples. In the 16th century, the Russian Church began preaching the Christian faith in the Volga region, the Ural Mountains, and Siberia—new lands that had been annexed to the Moscow Tsardom.

Rus grew and strengthened, and the Grand Prince of Moscow became the autocratic tsar, but the Metropolitan of Moscow was still considered subordinate to the Greek patriarch. This did not reflect the true state of affairs. Therefore, in 1589, the Patriarch of Tsargrad, Jeremiah, who had come to Moscow, elevated the Russian Metropolitan Job to the dignity of a patriarch.

At the beginning of the 17th century, Rus went through a terrible ordeal—the Time of Troubles. The invasion of the Poles, the rule of impostors, civil war, famine, and poverty did not break our people but instead solidified their faith in their special mission—to steadfastly and firmly uphold Orthodoxy.

In 1613, the Time of Troubles ended with the unanimous election of the young nobleman Mikhail Fyodorovich Romanov to the Russian throne. Under him, the Moscow Tsardom became one of the most powerful states in the world. It seemed that it would remain the stronghold of the Christian faith forever.

And nothing foretold that soon, during the reign of Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich, the son of Mikhail Romanov, grave and irreversible changes would take place in Rus.

The Tsar and the Patriarch

Just as unexpected clouds obscure the sunlight, so too do the malicious deeds of rulers darken and disturb great empires.

An unimaginable calamity befell our land in the middle of the 17th century. It did not come from foreigners, heretics, or rebels. The misfortune came from where it was least expected—from the Orthodox Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich and his closest friend, the most holy Patriarch Nikon, the leader of the Russian Church.

Nikon was much older than the tsar. He was born in 1605 in the Volga region, in the village of Veldemanovo, and at baptism, he was named Nikita. His father was a poor Mordovian peasant. Nikita’s mother died early, and his father remarried a wicked and quarrelsome woman.

The stepmother despised Nikita. She often beat him and more than once tried to kill him. The harsh treatment and constant fear made the boy resentful and secretive. From a young age, the future patriarch harbored hatred toward the world and dreamed only of one thing: how to take revenge on his tormentors.

Stealing money from his father, Nikita fled to the Makaryev-Zheltovodsky Monastery. There he lived for some time, diligently reading books and intending to become a monk. But his father discovered his whereabouts and brought him home.

On the way back, Nikita encountered a Tatar soothsayer. After looking into a fortune-telling book, the Tatar said to the young man: — “You will be a great ruler of the Russian kingdom!”

And Nikita believed the prophecy. Secretly, the peasant’s son dreamed of becoming an all-powerful ruler, imagining how his enemies would fall at his feet and beg for mercy. But for now, the youth had to submit to the will of his elders—his father arranged for his marriage.

Nikita wanted to become a priest. Smart and determined, he achieved his goal—he was ordained a priest in a village church and later moved to Moscow.

All his children died in infancy. Mourning his offspring, the young priest and his wife decided to take monastic vows. After his wife’s tonsure, Nikita left the capital and traveled to the far north, to the Solovetsky Islands on the White Sea.

On Solovki, the priest settled in the secluded Anzersky hermitage, founded by the wise and visionary elder Eleazar. The hermitage was renowned for its strict rule and the austere life of its hermits. There, Nikita took the monastic vows and was given the name Nikon.

But soon a quarrel arose between Eleazar and Nikon, ending with the young monk fleeing Solovki. Afterward, the brothers of the hermitage often discussed a vision seen by Eleazar: one day, during prayer, he saw a huge black serpent coiled around Nikon’s neck, and in horror, he cried out: — “Russia has raised him to bring great evil upon herself!”

The fugitive arrived at the Kozheozersky Monastery and stayed there. In 1646, on matters concerning the monastery, he traveled to Moscow, where he met Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich, who had just ascended the throne.

The tsar was young (born in 1629), inexperienced, and trusting. The monk from the distant monastery, tall, broad-shouldered, dignified, able to speak eloquently about salvation and interpret sacred texts skillfully, impressed Alexei Mikhailovich. The tsar kept Nikon in Moscow and drew him into his inner circle.

The son of a poor peasant became the tsar’s closest adviser and best friend. The tsar could not live a day without Nikon’s sweet conversations, nor could he take a step without his friendly counsel. In 1649, at the tsar’s behest, Nikon was consecrated as the Metropolitan of Great Novgorod. It became clear to everyone: soon, he would become patriarch.

In 1652, the most holy Joseph, Patriarch of Moscow and All Rus, passed away. The tsar appointed Nikon to his place. The Tatar’s prophecy had come true!

Now Alexei Mikhailovich himself called Nikon “father” and “great sovereign.” Unlimited power was placed in the hands of the new patriarch, but he used it for evil, feeding his vanity and pride.

Russian tsars and patriarchs were often visited by Greeks. Their lands had been ravaged by the Muslims, and their churches and monasteries were in distress. Therefore, Greek bishops and abbots traveled to Rus seeking alms. They brought with them holy relics and ancient icons, always receiving generous gifts in return—gold, silver, and furs.

However, the people of Moscow viewed the foreign guests with disapproval and mistrust. Greek piety differed greatly from Russian piety. The Greeks prayed quickly and briefly, did not make prostrations, crossed themselves carelessly, and even used three fingers to make the sign of the cross.

Meanwhile, the Greeks marveled at the widespread devotion in Rus. How strictly the church rules were observed here! No services were missed, nothing was distorted or shortened. How strict the fasting was! Even the tsar ate nothing but bread and water on fast days. How reverently the people stood in prayer! In the church, no one moved from their place or spoke; everyone stood still and silent, bowing together.

The Greeks marveled at the very piety and church beauty that had once astonished the envoys of Prince Vladimir. But in Greece, this holy ancient tradition had dwindled and faded due to the Turkish conquest, while in Rus, it had been preserved unchanged.

The Greeks often visited Alexei Mikhailovich and Nikon. Seeing that the tsar was young and fervent, and the patriarch proud and vain, they began to urge them to go to war with the Muslims and liberate Tsargrad. They told the tsar that if he liberated the city, he would become the ruler of all Orthodox peoples, and Nikon would become the Ecumenical Patriarch.

The Greeks said to the tsar: — “May the Holy Trinity grant you the throne of the great emperors! Free the Christian people from the hands of the infidels! Deliver us from captivity!”

The tsar took these flattering words as truth. With youthful zeal, he promised to sacrifice his army, treasury, and even his own blood for the liberation of Tsargrad.

While the cunning foreigners flattered Alexei Mikhailovich, Nikon prepared to become the spiritual ruler of the entire Orthodox world. He wanted to be no different from the Greeks and imitated them in everything. Nikon often sought advice from the foreign guests on what he could change to be more like them.

And they told Nikon that the Russian Church’s rites, customs, and ceremonies were different from those of the Greek Church. The Greeks had none of these. Therefore, the Russians must have invented them. Thus, Rus had strayed from the ancient faith, distorted it, and introduced innovations.

Then, after consulting with the tsar, the patriarch decided that the time had come to compare the ancient Russian books with the modern Greek ones.

The Beginning of the Schism

At that time, the Greek Church was in a pitiful state. It was oppressed by the Turks and languished in ignorance. The traditions of piety had been forgotten. The education for which the Greeks were once renowned had disappeared. They had no printing presses of their own, so they had to rely on books printed in Western countries, by the Latins.

These books were filled with errors, inaccuracies, and deliberate distortions. And since the Greeks had no wise teachers, there was no one to point out these mistakes. The corrupted books spread to all the lands under the jurisdiction of the Patriarch of Tsargrad, including Bulgaria, Serbia, Romania, Moldavia, and to the Little Russians and Belarusians. These books introduced new rites and practices that contradicted the teachings of the Church and were foreign to the holy traditions. Here are some examples:

The most significant and noticeable change was in the sign of the cross. Whereas in ancient times it was made with two fingers (the index and middle), the Greeks now crossed themselves with three fingers (thumb, index, and middle).
In the past, the liturgy was served with seven prosphora, but now the Greeks used five or even one.
The seal on the top of the prosphora had also changed. In the past, it depicted an eight-pointed cross with the Gospel words “Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world”. Now, the Greeks used a seal with a four-pointed cross and the inscription “IC XC NIKA”.
In the past, during the reading of the Psalms, “alleluia” was said twice—“Alleluia, alleluia, glory to You, O God.” But now the Greeks said it three times—“Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia, glory to You, O God.”
In the past, during the Lenten prayer of St. Ephraim the Syrian, “O Lord and Master of my life,” full prostrations were made, but the Greeks had replaced them with bows from the waist.
In the past, processions followed the sun (Christ), but now the Greeks walked counterclockwise.
There were other differences as well. Over centuries of Turkish rule, the Greeks had lost the order and beauty of their services, allowing for reductions and changes, while the Russians had held firmly to the strict church service.

Our ancestors, who saw their country as the Third Rome and their Church as the last bastion of Orthodoxy, carefully preserved the ancient rites and customs, considering them an essential testament to the true faith, handed down by the apostles and taught by the holy fathers.

The Russians, strict defenders of piety and firm preservers of the old rituals, contrasted themselves with the Greeks, whose faith had become weak and diluted.

But Alexei Mikhailovich and Nikon dreamed of ruling over the entire Christian world. To unite the Orthodox peoples under Moscow’s rule, it was not only necessary to gather an army and declare war on the Turks but also to eliminate the differences between Russian and Greek rites.

Thus, at the beginning of the Great Lent in 1653, the tsar and patriarch began their church reforms. Nikon sent out a decree to the churches of Moscow introducing new rites: the Lenten full prostrations were abolished, and the faithful were ordered to make the sign of the cross with three fingers.

The first to receive the decree was Archpriest Ioann Neronov, who served in the Kazan Cathedral on Red Square. He was a respected priest, known for his piety and wisdom. After reading the decree, he was horrified and secluded himself for prayer. For a week, Ioann prayed without ceasing and heard a voice from the image of Christ: — “The time of suffering has come; you must endure it with unrelenting perseverance!”

From that moment on, the Russian Church entered a period of constant trial and unceasing struggle.

The patriarch’s decree upset many. Pious priests gathered in Moscow, pondering how to stop the tsar and patriarch and prevent the destruction of Russian Orthodoxy.

These priests, brave defenders of church tradition, wrote and presented a petition to Alexei Mikhailovich opposing the introduction of the new rites. The tsar immediately passed it on to Nikon. At the patriarch’s command, all who dared oppose him were swiftly arrested and exiled from Moscow.

Having silenced the opposition, Nikon felt emboldened and decided to convene a church council to continue the reforms. At Nikon’s suggestion, Alexei Mikhailovich convened a council in 1654 to review and abolish the Russian rites and customs that differed from contemporary Greek practices.

The council approved the “book revision”—the revision of Russian church books based on Greek models. However, scholars have long proven that the “revision” was not done according to ancient Greek and Slavic manuscripts but rather from contemporary books—dubious and corrupt, printed by the Latins.

Moreover, the “revision” was entrusted to unreliable and unscrupulous individuals, such as the Greek Arsenios—a traitor to Christ and a scoundrel who had spent many years imprisoned at the Solovetsky Monastery.

The only guidance for this “revision” was Nikon’s instruction to Arsenios: — “Print the books however you wish, as long as it’s not the old way.”

This senseless “revision” by the tsar and patriarch led to a centuries-long schism in the Russian Church and among the Russian people, dividing them into Old Believers (Old Ritualists, ancient Orthodox Christians) and New Ritualists (Nikonian followers).

In pursuit of these reckless reforms, the traditions of the ancestors were trampled upon, thousands of Christian lives were lost, and the Russian land was stained with the blood of new martyrs. Sadly, most of our people betrayed the faith of their fathers, were deceived, and followed Nikon. This tragic price was paid to achieve ritual unity with the Greeks.

Yet, Alexei Mikhailovich never sent troops to liberate Tsargrad. He never became the ruler of all Orthodox peoples, and Nikon never became the ecumenical patriarch.

Soon, Nikon quarreled with the tsar. Alexei Mikhailovich matured, gaining wisdom and strength, and became more independent. He began to resent the overbearing supervision of his friend, who interfered in all state affairs. Enraged, Nikon voluntarily left the patriarchal throne and departed from Moscow.

He believed the tsar would repent and call him back, but this never happened. The years-long quarrel between the tsar and the patriarch ended with Nikon being condemned, stripped of his rank, and sent into exile. Nikon outlived Alexei Mikhailovich by a few years and died in 1681.

Arseny Sukhanov

Anton Sukhanov, the son of an impoverished nobleman, Putila Sukhanov, was intelligent and knowledgeable in the sciences and had a love for books. Everything he achieved in life was through his intellect. His intelligence brought him to Moscow and secured him a notable position in the Church.

In his youth, Sukhanov took monastic vows and was given the name Arseny. Once in the capital, he held important positions under the Moscow patriarchs. His knowledge of Greek and Latin made him indispensable for critical foreign missions. As a result, Russian authorities frequently entrusted Sukhanov with especially difficult assignments.

For example, Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich and Patriarch Joseph sent Elder Arseny to Patriarch Paisios of Jerusalem to study contemporary Greek liturgical practices.

In the spring of 1650, the elder visited the city of Targovishte, where Paisios often resided for long periods. Arseny spent several months there, engaging with the patriarch and his accompanying Greek clergymen—Archimandrite Philemon and Metropolitan Vlasios.

They often debated about matters of faith, especially the manner of folding the fingers for the sign of the cross.

Once, during a meal, Patriarch Paisios demonstrated the three-finger sign and asked Arseny: — “Is this how you Russians cross yourselves?”

In response, the elder showed the two-finger sign and said: — “This is how we cross ourselves.”

Paisios was outraged: — “Who instructed you to do it that way?”

And so began a debate about which custom was more correct and ancient, the Greek or the Russian. The patriarch was bewildered: — “Arseny, where did you get this practice? After all, you received Christianity from the Greeks.”

But the elder demanded an answer from the Greeks: — “Your Eminence, you became Christians before us, and we after. Tell me, where did you receive this practice, from whom, and in what time did you begin to cross yourselves with three fingers? And where is this written among you?”

Archimandrite Philemon replied for Paisios: — “It is written nowhere among us, but we ourselves adopted it from the beginning.”

Arseny triumphantly responded: — “You said well, that you yourselves adopted it from the beginning! And we also adopted it from the beginning. How then are you better than us? You received the faith from the apostles, and we from the Greeks, but from those who preserved the rules of the holy apostles and the Ecumenical Councils without blemish. You spoke the truth—that you yourselves adopted this practice, not according to the tradition of the holy fathers.”

— “Only in Moscow do you cross yourselves this way,” Archimandrite Philemon said, offended.

The Greeks then stood up from the table, upset that they had been unable to out-argue the Russian.

On another occasion, Metropolitan Vlasios said to Arseny: — “We cross ourselves with three fingers, and you with two. Both are correct. But we believe our method is better because we are older.”

— “I know, Your Eminence,” Sukhanov replied, “that you are older. But old clothing requires mending. If a stone chamber or church falls into disrepair, it needs to be fixed, and it will once again be new and strong. But you have allowed much to fall apart—the traditions of the apostles and the holy fathers. And you refuse to mend them, that is, to correct them. You puff yourselves up with pride and want to call yourselves the source of all faith.”

Upon returning to Moscow, Arseny detailed his debates with Paisios in his work Debate with the Greeks About the Faith.

Later, in 1653, by order of Alexei Mikhailovich and Nikon, the elder traveled to Mount Athos. He was tasked with bringing back ancient Greek and Slavic manuscripts needed for the preparation of new Russian liturgical books.

This journey required great caution, as Sukhanov carried with him a royal alms—funds and sable furs worth about 50,000 rubles—a fortune at the time!

Arseny safely arrived at Athos and distributed the generous alms. In return, the monks of Athos handed over 500 ancient books—Greek, Bulgarian, and Serbian. Sukhanov personally selected them from 18 monasteries.

The oldest manuscript Arseny brought back was a Greek Gospel over 1,050 years old, and many others were more than 700, 500, or 400 years old. Many of these ancient books were written on parchment—vellum, specially treated animal skin. Among the books Sukhanov acquired were even secular works (58 manuscripts).

From Athos, the elder went to Tsargrad to fulfill Nikon’s request for newly printed Greek books and cypress boards for icons. After traveling for two years, Arseny finally returned to Moscow.

However, the manuscripts acquired at such great effort and expense were not used in the publication of new Russian books. The individuals Nikon entrusted with the task lacked the knowledge necessary to work with ancient manuscripts. As a result, it was easier for them to rely on modern Greek and Western Russian—Little Russian and Belarusian—printed books.

Nevertheless, to give the new books an air of authority and respect, the patriarch ordered that they be labeled as corrected according to ancient manuscripts. For example, the preface to the liturgical book Sluzhebnik, published in 1655, stated: “This divine book has been corrected according to ancient Greek books from the Holy Mountain of Athos and parchment Slavic manuscripts.”

This was a lie, and it was obvious to everyone—not only the Old Believers but even the Nikonian followers.

At the end of the 17th century, the monk Sylvester Medvedev, who had once participated in the revision of church books, wrote: “Why has such division occurred in the Orthodox faith in the Moscow kingdom? Only because of the new Greek printed books, which do not align with the ancient Greek manuscripts. Everyone claims that the books have been corrected according to ancient Greek and Slavic parchment manuscripts. But not a single newly corrected book is entirely consistent with ancient Greek and Slavic parchment manuscripts. Every book disagrees with ancient manuscripts as well as with modern printed Slavic and Greek books. And the more they revise, the more changes they make according to their whims, and the more they confuse the Orthodox people.”

In the 19th century, scholars confirmed these words entirely.

Of course, Sukhanov knew this. But he did not participate in the debate between the Old Believers and the New Ritualists, nor did he expose Nikon’s lies. A peaceful life was more valuable to him than God’s truth.

Arseny continued to hold important church positions, living sometimes in the capital and sometimes in the Trinity Monastery near Moscow. It was there that he passed away in 1668.

Bishop Pavel

The first Russian saint to suffer torture and death for his fidelity to ancient Orthodox piety and the old church rite was the holy martyr and confessor Pavel, Bishop of Kolomna and Kashira.

Unfortunately, little is known about him. We do not know the names of his parents. It is only known that his father was a priest. The exact date of Pavel’s birth is unclear, but it can be assumed that he was a contemporary of Patriarch Nikon, born in 1605. The future bishop was born in the village of Kolychevo, in the same Volga region where both Avvakum and Nikon were born. Their native villages were not far from each other.

Pavel’s father taught the young Nikita, the future Nikon, how to read. For a time, the peasant’s son even lived in the priest’s house. This is where the future bishop and future patriarch met as children. Perhaps those days spent in the priest’s home were the happiest of Nikon’s life.

The boys studied together, played together, swam together, and ran through the woods in search of mushrooms and berries. Who would have thought, watching these carefree children, that one would become the executioner and the other the victim?

For many years, the future bishop disappears from the record. We next encounter him at the famed Zheltovodsky Monastery on the banks of the Volga. Here, the priest’s son took monastic vows and was given the name Pavel. Here, he led a strict monastic life, engaging with the wisdom of the scriptures, and as an experienced ascetic, earned the honorable title of “elder.”

The Zheltovodsk Monastery was situated on a bustling trade route. Every year, a large market, attracting merchants from around the world, was held beneath its walls—the famous Makaryev Fair. By royal decree, the monastery received a portion of the profits from the fair, and it grew wealthy.

All the monastery’s finances were overseen by the treasurer. In 1636, Pavel became the monastery’s treasurer. A man of honesty and incorruptibility, he was respected and trusted by all.

When Nikon arrived in Moscow and gained favor with the tsar, he remembered his childhood friend. In the summer of 1651, Pavel was summoned to the capital and appointed abbot of the ancient Pafnutiev Borovsky Monastery.

After the death of Patriarch Joseph, a church council named twelve worthy men, one of whom was to ascend to the patriarchal throne. Among them were both Pavel and Nikon. But by the will of the tsar, Nikon became patriarch.

Nikon wanted those around him to be loyal and indebted to him. Thus, in the fall of 1652, he consecrated Pavel as bishop for the nearby towns of Kolomna and Kashira, believing he had found a loyal assistant and obedient supporter.

When the council was convened in 1654 to abolish the old Russian rites and introduce the new Greek ones, the patriarch never imagined that his friend would be the only bishop to dare openly oppose the church reforms.

At the council, Pavel declared: — “From the time we became Christians and received the true faith from our pious fathers and grandfathers, we have held to these rites and this faith, and now we refuse to accept a new faith!”

But these words were not heeded. The council approved the “book revision,” and all present signed the decision. The tsar and patriarch managed to persuade Pavel to sign the council’s resolution. However, the bishop later withdrew his signature.

Nikon, angered by the bishop’s defiance, summoned him and began to try to win him over through cunning. At first, the patriarch attempted to convince Pavel of the necessity of the “revision,” pointing to the “colloquial language” of Russian liturgical books. To this, the bishop responded that the truths of the Gospel and the apostles’ teachings were also written in simple language.

Then the patriarch pointed out the discrepancies between Greek books and practices and those of the Russian Church. To this, the bishop replied that while the new Greek rites differed from theirs, the ancient Greek rites fully aligned with Russian church tradition.

Pavel’s steadfastness so infuriated Nikon that he shouted in a terrifying voice, rushed at the bishop, tore off his monastic mantle, and mercilessly beat him. He continued to beat him until he himself was exhausted. The bishop fell, but upon regaining consciousness, he rose, meekly thanked the patriarch, and stood in silence.

Afterward, Nikon ordered his servants to chain Pavel, take him to prison, and keep him under strict guard. Yet, the bishop did not despair or complain about his fate. Instead, he prayed and thanked God for the honor of suffering for the true faith.

The patriarch unlawfully stripped Pavel of his episcopal rank and exiled him to the ancient Khutynsky Monastery in Great Novgorod. The abbot of the monastery, eager to please Nikon, tormented the exiled bishop in various ways. For this, he was struck by divine punishment—he suddenly became mute and remained so until his death.

At the monastery, Pavel was deprived of contact with Christians. Nikon ordered that no one be allowed to see him, and those who insisted on visiting the deposed bishop were seized and imprisoned.

Then Pavel took upon himself the great feat of foolishness for Christ’s sake. To outsiders, it seemed as if he had lost his mind due to his sufferings, but this madness was feigned. Only by pretending to be insane could the bishop freely preach his fidelity to church tradition.

The abbot and the monastic brothers, believing Pavel to be mad, stopped bothering to monitor the “lunatic” and allowed him to wander the monastery grounds. The saint used this freedom to preach to the local people. He fatherly instructed the flock:

— “Beloved brothers and children! Stand firm in piety and hold fast to the traditions of the holy apostles and the holy fathers. Reject the innovations introduced by Nikon and his followers. Guard yourselves against those who cause strife and divisions. Follow the faith of the holy Russian shepherds, and do not turn to strange and foreign teachings. Honor the priest and remain under his guidance. Come to repentance, observe the fasts, avoid drunkenness, and do not deprive yourselves of the Body of Christ.”

When Nikon learned that the bishop was preaching loyalty to the ancient piety and teaching the people to adhere to the old rites, he decided to have Pavel killed. The patriarch sent his loyal servants to where the saint was preaching. The servants ambushed him in a desolate place and brutally murdered him. According to tradition, the martyrdom of Saint Pavel occurred on April 3, 1656, on Holy Thursday.

Protopope Avvakum

The greatest defender of the old faith was the holy martyr and confessor, Archpriest Avvakum. He was born in 1620 in the village of Grigorovo , to the family of a priest named Peter. His fellow countrymen included Patriarch Nikon and Bishop Pavel.

Avvakum’s father died early, and his upbringing was left to his mother, a humble ascetic and woman of prayer. When Avvakum turned seventeen, his mother decided it was time for him to marry. The young man prayed to the Mother of God, asking for a wife who would be a helper in salvation.

Avvakum’s wife became the pious maiden Anastasia, the daughter of a blacksmith named Mark. She loved the priest’s son and prayed to marry him. Thus, through mutual prayers, they were united in marriage. Avvakum found in Anastasia a faithful companion who comforted and strengthened him during their most difficult trials.

The newlyweds moved from their native village to the nearby settlement of Lopatischi. According to the custom of that time, the son of a priest would inherit his father’s role, and at the age of 22, Avvakum was ordained a deacon. Two years later, he was ordained as a priest for the church of Lopatischi.

The young, zealous, and truth-loving priest drew the ire of the village authorities for standing up for the poor and downtrodden. Avvakum was beaten and driven out of the village.

With his wife and newborn son, the priest set out for Moscow to seek protection. The clergy in the capital warmly welcomed Avvakum, and Archpriest Ioann Neronov introduced him to Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich.

Receiving a letter of protection from the Tsar, Avvakum returned to Lopatischi, but more troubles awaited him there. In 1652, he again journeyed to Moscow in search of justice. There, Avvakum was appointed Archpriest of the cathedral in the small town of Yuryevets . However, even here, persecution followed him. The local clergy, dissatisfied with the strictness of the new archpriest, incited the townspeople against him. Barely escaping death, Avvakum fled once again to Moscow.

In early Lent of 1653, when Patriarch Nikon sent out the decree introducing the new rites, Avvakum wrote a petition in defense of the ancient Church’s piety and submitted it to the Tsar. The petition ended up in Nikon’s hands, who ordered Avvakum to be imprisoned.

Nikon wanted to strip Avvakum of his priesthood, but the Tsar intervened on behalf of his acquaintance. Instead, the Patriarch exiled the priest and his family to Siberia, to the town of Tobolsk . In the autumn of 1653, Avvakum, along with his wife and children, set out on a grueling journey.

In Tobolsk, Avvakum continued to preach, condemning and denouncing Nikon. Soon after, an order came from Moscow: Avvakum and his family were to be sent to a stricter exile in the Yakutsk fortress. However, midway, a new order caught up with him—to join Voivode Pashkov’s expedition.

In the summer of 1656, Pashkov’s detachment set off. For Avvakum, this marked the beginning of the harshest trial he had yet faced: hunger, cold, unbearable labor, sickness, and the death of his children, all coupled with the Voivode’s cruelty.

In 1662, Avvakum was permitted to return from exile. For two years, the priest and his household made their way back to Moscow. Seeing that services were now being conducted according to the new books everywhere, Avvakum became deeply troubled. His zeal for the faith clashed with his responsibilities toward his wife and children. What should he do? Defend the old faith or abandon everything?

Anastasia Markovna, noticing her husband’s sorrow, grew worried:

— “Why are you so downcast?”

— “Wife, what should I do? The winter of heresy is upon us. Should I speak out or remain silent? You’ve all bound me!” the archpriest said in frustration.

But his wife encouraged him:

— “Lord, have mercy! What are you saying, Petrovich? I bless you, with our children, to continue preaching the word of God as before. Don’t worry about us. As long as God wills, we will live together, and when we are separated, don’t forget us in your prayers. Go, go to church, Petrovich, and denounce the heresy!”

Bolstered by the support of his beloved, Avvakum preached God’s word and condemned Nikon’s innovations in every city and village, church, and marketplace along the way to Moscow.

By the spring of 1664, the exile had reached the capital. Soon, news of his return spread throughout the city, and the endurance of this righteous man, unbroken by the hardships of exile, and the greatness of his martyrdom earned him universal respect and admiration.

Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich personally received Archpriest Avvakum and spoke kind words to him. Taking advantage of this, Avvakum presented the Tsar with two petitions, in which he called on the Tsar to abandon Nikon’s new books and all his reforms.

The priest’s steadfastness began to irritate the Tsar. Before long, Avvakum was exiled again. This time, he and his family were taken north, to the distant Pustozersk fortress. However, on the way, Avvakum sent a letter to the Tsar, pleading for mercy for his children and asking for leniency in his punishment. The Tsar allowed Avvakum and his family to live in the larger village of Mezen, near the White Sea.

In the spring of 1666, Avvakum was taken to Moscow under guard to stand trial at a church council. The entire council attempted to persuade the archpriest to accept the new rituals and reconcile with their supporters, but Avvakum remained unwavering:

— “Even if God wills me to die, I will not unite with the apostates!”

After long disputes about the faith, Avvakum was shamefully defrocked. He, along with three zealous defenders of Orthodoxy (Priest Lazar, Deacon Feodor, and Monk Epiphanius), were sentenced to imprisonment in the Pustozersk fortress. In December 1667, these suffering followers of Christ arrived at their final earthly destination—a grim earthen prison.

Avvakum spent many years in this dark dungeon, yet his spirit did not falter. His sincere faith and constant prayer sustained him. In Pustozersk, in the cold pit, surrounded by complete darkness, with only the crimson, smoky light of a torch, Avvakum wrote numerous letters to Christians, petitions to the Tsar, and other works. Here, with the blessing of his spiritual father, Monk Epiphanius, the archpriest began his renowned “Life” (“Житие”).

Even now, through these writings, the voice of Saint Avvakum echoes loudly across all of Rus:

— “Stand firm, brothers, stand bravely, and do not betray the true faith. Though the Nikonites attempt to separate us from Christ through torment and suffering, how could they ever diminish Christ? Christ is our glory! Christ is our foundation! Christ is our refuge!”

In 1681, Avvakum was accused of spreading writings against the Tsar and the higher clergy. A dire order arrived in Pustozersk: “For great slanders against the royal house,” Avvakum and his companions were to be burned in a log cabin. On Good Friday—April 14, 1682—Archpriest Avvakum, Priest Lazar, Deacon Feodor, and Monk Epiphanius were executed by being burned alive.

Protopope Daniil

We call ancient Rus’ “Holy.” But of course, this does not mean that everything in it was holy, sinless, and without reproach. Humans live on the earth, not angels. And people are prone to flaws, offenses, and mistakes.

One of the main flaws of ancient Russian life, which has persisted to this day, was drunkenness. Since the time of Ivan the Terrible, taverns began to appear in cities and large villages—special houses where people gathered to drink and eat, to chat and have boisterous drinking sessions with songs and music.

Taverns generated great income. Therefore, during the reign of Alexei Mikhailovich, drinking establishments were transferred to the jurisdiction of the royal treasury. Now, the money spent by the people on vodka, wine, and beer flowed into the royal coffers.

Often, it wasn’t only townspeople and peasants who spent their last pennies in taverns, but also priests, deacons, and monks. For example, Father Peter, the father of Protopope Avvakum, was a frequent visitor to the tavern in the village of Grigorovo. He died early from drinking, leaving his wife with young children.

In drinking establishments, the people were entertained by skomorokhs—wandering singers and musicians. They played the gusli, tambourines, and flutes, danced, and sang humorous songs. The jesters traveled from town to town, village to village. They often brought along trained bears who could walk on their hind legs, dance, and bow.

On church holidays and during fairs, skomorokhs came to churches and marketplaces to entertain the crowd, wearing “hari”—as masks were called in olden times. But their jokes weren’t always harmless. Sometimes they were mockery and blasphemy.

The state and the Church fought against such folk entertainment. The Tsars and archbishops issued decrees banning jesting games and ordering the confiscation and burning of skomorokh masks, gusli, and flutes. However, only a few voivodes and priests dared to enforce these decrees, fearing the wrath of the crowd.

Avvakum, when jesters with bears came to his village of Lopatischi, drove them out. He smashed their masks and tambourines, and took two large bears. One bear he struck so hard that it barely survived, and the other he released into the field.

A bold fighter against immorality and drunkenness was Protopope Daniil, a friend of Avvakum.

Daniil served as a priest in Moscow. In 1649, he was appointed protopope of the Assumption Cathedral in Kostroma, which housed the wonder-working Theotokos Feodorovskaya icon—a venerated protector of the Romanov royal family and one of Rus’s greatest relics.

Daniil began his fight against the vices of the people, disregarding the opinion of the townsfolk. He actively opposed the skomorokhs, and in his sermons, he denounced the drunkenness of both laypeople and clergy. By his orders, disturbers of the peace, mainly drunks, were locked in the basement beneath the cathedral.

In 1652, during Maslenitsa and Great Lent, at Daniil’s insistence, all taverns in Kostroma were closed. This provoked the dissatisfaction of some townspeople and residents of nearby villages. Daniil’s boldness led to animosity against him from Kostroma’s voivode, Yuri Mikhailovich Aksakov.

Dissatisfaction and animosity soon grew into open hatred. Drunken peasants almost killed Daniil. This happened on May 25, 1652.

At night, drunkards were singing on the banks of the Volga. Daniil went to quiet them down, but they attacked him and beat him until he was unconscious.

Regaining consciousness, Daniil ran to the cathedral. But the peasants caught up with him near the voivode’s courtyard and beat him with clubs. Daniil shouted to the cathedral watchman to ring the bell and call for help.

However, neither the voivode nor the townspeople wanted to defend their cathedral’s protopope. A sleepy Aksakov came out but didn’t intervene on behalf of the priest. The peasants dispersed, leaving the bloodied Daniil behind.

Three days later, on May 28, a crowd of peasants from nearby villages appeared on the streets of Kostroma. The men marched with songs, shouting and laughing. Leading the crowd was a notorious troublemaking priest named Ivan, who led the peasants to free prisoners locked in the cathedral’s basement for various offenses.

The peasants broke the lock and released three drunkards from confinement. But they didn’t stop there. Threats against Daniil could be heard in the crowd.

Fearing for his life, Daniil first sought refuge in the cathedral, then hid for two days in a nearby monastery. The drunk peasants searched for him throughout the city. They found several people who had often been seen with Daniil and beat them.

The voivode didn’t interfere with the ongoing violence. Realizing that he couldn’t count on the authorities for protection, Daniil fled Kostroma for Moscow.

In the capital, he submitted a petition to the Tsar, describing his ordeals and painting a bleak picture of life in Kostroma: laypeople attending church services armed with knives, some insulting priests and threatening their lives, jesters singing songs outside the Assumption Cathedral, and Voivode Aksakov failing to assist the clergy while his men took bribes to release detained drunkards.

An investigation revealed how much the Kostroma townsfolk hated Daniil. Only a few of those questioned supported the protopope. Most claimed to have seen nothing, heard nothing, and knew nothing.

Daniil stayed in Moscow, living and serving in the Strastnoi Monastery beyond the Tver Gates. Unfortunately, this ancient monastery no longer exists. It was demolished in 1937. Now, Pushkin Square with its famous monument to the great poet stands in its place.

At the beginning of Great Lent in 1653, Daniil and Avvakum wrote and submitted a petition to Alexei Mikhailovich against Nikon’s new rituals. It was a detailed work compiled from church books about the two-fingered sign of the cross and Great Lent prostrations.

The Tsar handed the petition to the Patriarch, who ordered Daniil and Avvakum to be arrested.

Nikon defrocked Daniil and sent him to one of Moscow’s monasteries to bake bread. Daily work in a bakery by the hot ovens was considered a harsh punishment.

But Daniil did not submit, did not yield, and did not remain silent. He continued to denounce the Patriarch’s innovations. Then Nikon devised a harsher punishment for the protopope—exile to Astrakhan.

There, Daniil was kept in an earthen prison, tormented by hunger and thirst. Soon, the martyr passed away.

Monk Epiphaniy

In Pustozersk, along with Protopope Avvakum, three more martyrs for the faith were imprisoned and then burned in a log cabin: Lazarus, a priest from the town of Romanov, Theodor, a deacon of the Kremlin’s Annunciation Cathedral, and Epiphaniy, a monk of the Solovetsky Monastery.

While sitting in the dreadful earthen prison, they did not lose hope or fall into despair, but tirelessly preached Orthodoxy—writing numerous works in its defense. Sympathetic streltsy (Russian military men) would smuggle their writings out to freedom.

From the distant Pustozersk, the writings of these martyrs spread across all of Rus’. They inspired the brave, encouraged the hesitant, and comforted the sorrowful.

At the request of Protopope Avvakum, monk Epiphaniy wrote his “Life” while in prison—a narrative of his own difficult life. However, in this work, the monk wrote not so much about himself as about the various miracles of God, of which he was a witness. Therefore, we know little about Epiphaniy’s personal life.

The future holy ascetic was born into a peasant family. After the death of his parents, he left his village and went to a large, bustling city where he lived for seven years.

In 1645, the young man arrived at the Solovetsky Monastery and stayed there as a novice. Seven years later, he was tonsured a monk and named Epiphaniy. After this, the monk lived in the monastery for another five years. They wanted to ordain him as a priest, but he humbly refused.

In 1657, liturgical books “corrected” by the Greek Arsenios, following the orders of Alexei Mikhailovich and Nikon, were brought to the Solovki. After examining these books, the monks grieved:

— “Brothers, brothers! Alas, alas! Woe, woe! The faith of Christ has fallen in the Russian land, just as it has in other lands at the hands of the two enemies of Christ—Nikon and Arsenios.”

Unwilling to pray according to the new ways, Epiphaniy, with the advice and blessing of his spiritual father, left Solovki. He took with him books and a copper-cast icon of the Theotokos.

The monk retreated to the remote hermitage of elder Kirill, who lived by the Suna River, flowing into Lake Onega.

Kirill, wanting to test the monk, blessed him to spend the night in a cell where a fierce demon had been living for some time.

In fear, Epiphaniy entered the dark, empty hut. He placed the cast icon of the Theotokos on the shelf, lit incense, censed the icon and the cell, prayed, lay down, and slept peacefully. The demon, frightened by the icon, fled the dwelling and did not return as long as the copper icon remained.

Kirill began to live in the same cell with Epiphaniy. They lived together for forty weeks, never seeing the demon either in dreams or reality. Later, Epiphaniy built a separate cell and moved the icon of the Theotokos there. The demon then returned to Kirill and began to torment him again.

On another occasion, when a fire broke out near Epiphaniy’s dwelling, the cast icon miraculously saved his cell from burning. The hut itself was charred, and everything around it was destroyed by the fire, but inside the cell, everything remained intact and unharmed.

While living in the wilderness, in 1665, Epiphaniy wrote a book denouncing Nikon and his innovations. The following year, the monk went to Moscow. At this time, a church council was in session. Fearless of punishment, the monk began publicly reading his book. He also presented a petition to the Tsar, asking him to reject Nikon’s innovations.

The bold monk was arrested and imprisoned. The council sentenced Epiphaniy, along with priest Lazarus, to punishment—having their tongues cut out and the fingers of their right hands severed, so they could no longer speak or write.

The execution took place on August 27, 1667, at Bolotnaya Square in Moscow, in front of a large crowd.

Lazarus and Epiphaniy bravely ascended the platform, where two chopping blocks and axes awaited.

First, the executioner cut out the priest’s tongue. At that moment, Lazarus had a vision of the prophet Elijah, who commanded him not to be afraid but to bear witness to the truth. The priest, spitting out blood, immediately began speaking clearly and purely, glorifying Christ.

Then Lazarus laid his hand on the block, and the executioner chopped it off at the wrist. The hand fell to the ground, miraculously forming the two-fingered sign of the cross.

Avvakum, who witnessed this, later wrote, “And the hand lay before the people for a long time. Poor thing, it continued to confess even after death, bearing unchanged the sign of the Savior. It’s a wonder to me: a lifeless hand rebukes the living!”

Epiphaniy begged the executioner not to cut out his tongue but to chop off his head right away. The executioner, flustered, replied:

— “Father, I will grant you peace, but what will happen to me? I am not allowed to do that.”

Then the monk made the sign of the cross and sighed:

— “Lord, do not abandon me, a sinner!”

He pulled his tongue out of his mouth with his hands, making it easier for the executioner to cut. Shaking from anxiety, the executioner barely managed to sever it with his knife.

Then they chopped off Epiphaniy’s hand. The executioner, feeling pity for the monk, wanted to cut it off at the joints so it would heal more quickly. But the monk signaled for him to cut across the bones. So, they chopped off four of his fingers.

The mutilated Epiphaniy was led back to the prison. Suffering from pain, he lay on a bench. Blood flowed from his wounds, and the monk prayed:

— “Lord, Lord! Take my soul! I cannot bear this bitter pain! Have mercy on me, a poor and sinful servant of Yours. Take my soul from my body!”

The monk prayed and wept for a long time, eventually falling into a deep sleep. Epiphaniy then had a vision of the Most Holy Theotokos. She came to him and gently touched his injured hand. The monk tried to grasp the hand of the Mother of God, but she vanished.

When the monk awoke, his hand no longer hurt. Over time, it healed completely. His severed tongue also began to regrow, and he eventually regained clear speech.

Later, the martyrs were sent to Pustozersk fortress. There, in 1670, Epiphaniy, along with Deacon Theodor, underwent another punishment—on April 14, their tongues were cut out again.

After this, the monk could no longer speak or even chew food. He began to pray:

— “Lord, give me a tongue, a poor man like me. For Your glory, for light, and for my salvation!”

He prayed for more than two weeks. One day, dozing off, he dreamed that he saw both of his severed tongues—the one cut out in Moscow and the one cut out in Pustozersk. The monk picked up the Pustozersk tongue and placed it in his mouth. It immediately attached itself back in place.

The monk awoke and wondered, “Lord! What will happen?”

From that moment, his tongue began to grow again and eventually returned to its original state.

In 1682, Epiphaniy was burned together with his fellow prisoners. After the fire died down, the executioners sifted through the ashes and found the bodies of Avvakum, Lazarus, and Theodor. Their bodies had not been consumed by the flames, but were only charred. However, the body of Saint Epiphaniy was not found. Many witnessed his ascent into heaven from the flames.

Archimandrite Spyridon

Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich and Patriarch Nikon entrusted the “correction” of our liturgical books to foreigners who had come to Moscow in search of honor, ranks, and wealth. At different times, various opportunists managed our church affairs: visiting Greeks and numerous Little Russians and Belarusians—natives of the western Russian Orthodox lands that had been captured by Poland.

The Latinized Poles oppressed the Russians, forbidding them from having schools and teachers. As a result, Orthodox Christians had to seek education in the schools of non-believers. To enroll in these institutions, they often had to temporarily, and at least outwardly, abandon Orthodoxy and adopt Latin Catholicism.

Little Russians and Belarusians were highly educated in the European style, with an excellent command of Latin and Polish. They could deliver ornate speeches, compose elaborate verses, and even read the stars. They imitated their Latin teachers in all things, while looking down on Russians with disdain.

They would say: “Is Orthodox Russia anything like the splendid Europe? There, life is carefree, morals are free, entertainment is abundant, and the clothing is beautiful, with magnificent palaces, delightful parks, loud music, lively dances, lavish feasts, and sweet wines. But in Russia, there is only prayer, fasting, the sound of church bells, bearded peasants, and women in headscarves…”

Patriarch Nikon claimed that our liturgical books contained many errors. Yet, he could not find a single misprint or mistake in them. However, Little Russians, Belarusians, and Greeks introduced numerous errors into the new books, filling them with heresy and temptation.

Sometimes, the “corrections” amounted only to swapping and rearranging individual words. Where the old books had “church,” the new ones corrected it to “temple.” Conversely, where “temple” had been, the new books printed “church.” “Youths” became “children,” and “children” became “youths.”

It was no wonder that the Old Believers were outraged:

— “Now there is not a single word left in all the books that hasn’t been changed or rearranged. And what is better in the new than the old?”

The dangers of Latin education and the wisdom of Europe were well known to Archimandrite Spyridon—a true defender of Christianity and a prolific church writer.

Semyon Ivanovich Potemkin, the future elder Spyridon, was born in Smolensk to a noble family. The Potemkin family’s history is tied to the western Russian lands and the city of Smolensk, which had been part of Poland since 1613.

Unfortunately, little is known about Semyon’s life before he became a monk. He was well-educated, had a wife, and children. In Smolensk, Potemkin frequently debated matters of faith with the Latin Catholics, defeating and humiliating them. As a result, non-believers respected him for his remarkable intellect.

Semyon received a Western education, attending a Polish school. He studied Greek, Latin, Polish, theology, and the art of oratory with great skill. From his youth, Potemkin shunned idleness and drunkenness, instead devoting himself to reading books, which remained his lifelong passion.

The Potemkin family belonged to the highest ranks of nobility and were related to several prominent families. Semyon’s sister was married to the influential courtier Mikhail Alekseyevich Rtishchev. Their son Feodor was a close friend and favorite of Alexei Mikhailovich, a supporter of Western scholarship, and an advocate of church reforms.

In 1654, the Russians recaptured Smolensk from the Poles. Soon after, Semyon was summoned to Moscow. It is likely that Tsar Alexei himself, who knew Potemkin well, invited him to teach at the school of the Andreev Monastery, founded by Feodor Rtishchev. In this school, invited Western Russian scholars taught Moscow’s youth Greek, Latin, and other European subjects.

In Moscow, Semyon took monastic vows and was renamed Spyridon. Nikon appointed him archimandrite of the Pokrovsky Monastery, founded in 1655 with funds from the Tsar. It can be confidently said that Potemkin enjoyed the favor of both the Tsar and the Patriarch.

However, in the matter of introducing new liturgical books and rituals, Spyridon opposed the authorities. He understood that these innovations had not appeared among the Greeks, Slavs, and eventually in Russia, without the influence of the Latins, Western education, and heretical texts.

The Archimandrite openly opposed the Patriarch’s reforms and wrote several works against them. After his passing, these writings were collected into a book by his disciple, Deacon Feodor.

Nonetheless, Alexei Mikhailovich held the wise Spyridon in such high esteem that he did not punish him for his dissent. Taking advantage of the Tsar’s favorable disposition, the archimandrite repeatedly asked him to convene a church council to condemn and overturn Nikon’s books and rituals.

The Tsar always responded kindly:

— “There will be a council, Father!”

But during Spyridon’s lifetime, the Tsar never convened one.

Respected by all, the Archimandrite lived to an honorable old age. The Tsar loved him so much that in 1662 he called him to be the Metropolitan of Great Novgorod. Feodor Rtishchev visited the elder and persuaded him:

— “Uncle, would you like to be the Metropolitan of Novgorod? The Church there is now widowed.”

The elder replied:

— “Feodor Mikhailovich, tell the Tsar I would rather go to the gallows with joy than become a metropolitan with the new books. What good will come of it? I do not wish to please mortal men.”

The Archimandrite did not live to see the gallows. He died at the end of November 1664. Soon after, a large council convened, which legitimized the persecution of the Old Believers. At this council, Feodor—Spyridon’s disciple, a deacon of the Kremlin’s Annunciation Cathedral, a famous writer, and defender of the Old Belief—was condemned.

Feodor often met and conversed with the elder. Under his influence, he began writing works against the church reforms. In December 1665, when the authorities learned of this, the deacon was arrested, defrocked, chained, and imprisoned. In August 1667, he was sentenced to have his tongue cut out and to be exiled to Pustozersk prison.

His tongue was cut out on February 25, 1668, in Bolotnaya Square. On the same day, he was taken to Pustozersk, where he would spend the rest of his days in an earthen prison. There, in 1670, he endured another punishment—on April 14, his tongue was cut out again, and his fingers on his right hand were severed.

Despite his mutilations, the martyr did not surrender, did not reconcile with the Nikonites, and continued to write works against them. For this, on April 14, 1682, Saint Feodor was burned in a log cabin along with Protopope Avvakum.

Boyarina Morozova

In 1632, in Moscow, in the family of courtier Prokopy Fedorovich Sokovnin, a daughter named Feodosia was born. She grew up alongside two older brothers and a younger sister, Evdokia, in her father’s home.

At the age of seventeen, the modest and devout beauty Feodosia was married to Gleb Ivanovich Morozov, a senior boyar. Gleb was a severe widower, much older than his young wife—he was over fifty, renowned, and fabulously wealthy. Gleb loved Feodosia, and she returned his affection with respectful love.

In 1650, the Morozovs had a son, Ivan, a frail and quiet boy. Gleb Morozov passed away in 1662, leaving their young son as the sole heir to an immense fortune, under the guardianship of his mother.

In 1664, Archpriest Avvakum visited Morozova’s household after returning from his Siberian exile. Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich intended to settle Avvakum in the Kremlin, but the archpriest preferred the home of his spiritual daughter, the boyarina (noblewoman) Feodosia, over the royal chambers.

Avvakum guided Feodosia in piety, reading spiritually beneficial books to her in the evenings while she spun thread or sewed shirts. The threads, shirts, and money that Feodosia produced were given to the poor. She spent a third of the Morozov family fortune on the needy, while at home she dressed in patched clothing.

In her mansion, the devout noblewoman welcomed the sick, the blessed fools, and travelers. From them, she learned about Melania, a nun and disciple of Avvakum. Feodosia invited Melania to her home, housed her, and became her humble disciple.

At the same time, Feodosia desired to take monastic vows. She repeatedly pleaded with her mentor to tonsure her, but Melania did not rush the process. The secret tonsure finally took place in the autumn of 1670. Boyarina Feodosia Prokopievna became the nun Feodora.

Meanwhile, Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich, having been widowed, decided to remarry. The wedding banquet was to be held on January 22, 1671. Morozova, being the first court noblewoman, was invited. But by then, Boyarina Morozova was no more; there was only Nun Feodora. She declined the invitation, citing illness:

— “My legs hurt severely; I cannot walk or stand.”

The Tsar did not believe her and took the refusal as a grievous insult. From that moment, he harbored a deep hatred for the righteous woman and sought a way to punish her, while also seizing the vast Morozov estate for the treasury. When the Tsar learned that Feodosia adhered to the Old Belief, it became the pretext for her downfall.

In the beginning of the Nativity Fast in 1671, it became clear that Morozova was destined for imprisonment. One day, the Tsar discussed this with his close associates, including Prince Pyotr Semyonovich Urusov, the husband of Evdokia, Feodosia’s sister.

That same day, Urusov told his wife about the fate awaiting Morozova and allowed her to visit her sister for the last time. Evdokia stayed late at her sister’s home and spent the night.

Late at night, there was a knock at the gates, followed by shouting and barking. They had come for Morozova. Feodosia woke up in fear, but Evdokia reassured her:

— “Sister, take courage! Christ is with us—do not fear!”

The sisters prayed together and blessed each other to bear witness to the truth. Feodora hid Urusova in the pantry and lay down again.

Soon, without knocking or invitation, a royal envoy entered the sleeping quarters, accompanied by soldiers. He announced that he had come by order of the Tsar and forced the boyarina to stand for questioning. A search ensued, and the princess was found hiding in the pantry.

Feodora was asked:

— “How do you make the sign of the cross, and how do you pray?”

She demonstrated the two-fingered sign of the cross. Evdokia, being like her sister a spiritual daughter of Avvakum, did the same. That was enough. The sisters were shackled and locked in the basement, while the boyarina’s servants were ordered to keep strict watch over their mistress.

Two days later, the confessors were taken to the Kremlin for interrogation. Feodora remained steadfast.

Neither talk of obedience to the Tsar nor appeals to her son or household swayed her. She replied to the Nikonites:

— “You are all heretics, from the first to the last! Divide my words among yourselves!”

Evdokia was just as resolute. The sisters were shackled again and sent back to Morozova’s estate. Then they were separated and sent to different prisons.

During her long imprisonment, Morozova’s ailing son Ivan Glebovich died. Learning of her beloved son’s death, Feodora wept so bitterly that even the jailers shed tears of pity.

The Tsar, however, gloated over Ivan’s death. Now there was no one between him and the Morozov fortune, which immediately went into the treasury.

Yet, neither the death of her beloved son, the loss of her wealth, nor the torture and humiliation could shake Morozova’s faith. She remained firm and unyielding. Soon, she was sentenced to lifelong imprisonment in the fortress of Borovsk. Evdokia was sent there as well.

At first, the prisoners lived in relative freedom: they were fed, allowed to keep spare clothing, books, and icons. But everything changed when a new investigator arrived, who confiscated the meager belongings of the captives.

The sisters were transferred to a terrifying dungeon—a deep pit. The Tsar ordered that they be given no food or water. The two women, frail in body but strong in spirit, began to waste away. Evdokia was the first to die. Feodora survived her sister by only a short time.

Weakened from hunger and thirst, she called to the guard watching over the prison and tearfully begged:

— “Servant of Christ, do you still have a father and mother, or have they passed away? If they live, let us pray for them and for you. If they have died, let us commemorate them. Have mercy on me, servant of Christ, I am weak from hunger and need food. Have pity on me and give me a roll!”

— “No, my lady, I am afraid.”

— “Then some bread!”

— “I dare not.”

— “Well then, just a few crumbs!”

— “I cannot.”

— “If you cannot, then at least bring me an apple or a cucumber!”

— “I dare not,” the guard whispered.

The martyr sighed:

— “Very well, child. Blessed be our God, who has willed it so! If it is not possible, I ask you to grant me this last kindness—wrap my poor body in burlap and bury me beside my beloved sister.”

Sensing her death approaching, the nun again called for the guard:

— “Servant of Christ, I beg you, go to the river and wash my shirt. The Lord wishes to take me from this life, and it is not fitting for me to lie in the earth in dirty clothes.”

The guard took the shirt, hid it under the folds of his red caftan, went to the river, and washed it, weeping bitterly as he did so.

On the cold night of November 1st to 2nd, 1675, the holy Feodora died, passing from the stifling darkness of the bottomless pit into the unending light of the Heavenly Kingdom.

Job Lgovsky

Among the holy ascetics venerated by the Russian Church, a special place belongs to Saint Job of Lgov. His faithfulness to Orthodoxy was not marked by the heroic feats of confession or martyrdom, but by monastic humility and a life of solitary asceticism.

The future ascetic was born in 1594 into a boyar family and was baptized with the name Ivan. His father, Timofey Ivanovich Likhachev, served successfully at the Tsar’s court.

Ivan, quick to learn, outpaced all his peers in literacy, astonishing his teachers with his intellect and diligence. Prayer and reading became the boy’s favorite activities. He began to ponder how to please God and save his soul. At the age of twelve, Ivan secretly left home, rejecting wealth and idleness. He joined wandering pilgrims, traveling across Russia and visiting many monasteries.

Young Ivan became particularly fond of the renowned Trinity Monastery of Saint Sergius of Radonezh. Here, he decided to stay and asked the abbot to accept him into the brotherhood. Seeing Ivan’s piety and virtue, the abbot agreed, growing fond of the boy as a son. Yielding to Ivan’s requests, he tonsured him a monk, giving him the name Job.

Job lived in the monastery for many years, but eventually sought permission to leave for a life of solitary prayer and silence. The abbot agreed and blessed his beloved disciple to seek out a remote, uninhabited place.

Wandering through desolate forests, Job finally found his desired refuge in the impenetrable woods and marshes of a place called Mogilevo, located on the picturesque banks of the Tsna River, which flows into Lake Mstino.

Here, Job lived in solitude, devoting himself to prayer and labor. However, a lost merchant stumbled upon his dwelling and tearfully begged the hermit for directions, promising in return to build a church on that spot in honor of the Mother of God.

The monk led the merchant out of the forest, and the latter fulfilled his promise, donating a significant sum of money for the church. Job began constructing a wooden church in honor of the Dormition of the Mother of God. Other monks seeking a solitary life started to gather around him, and soon a small monastery formed.

For the brotherhood, Job was a model of humility and obedience. On hot afternoons, he would tend the monastery’s livestock, allowing the shepherds to rest. He built cells for the monks with his own hands and even laid their stoves.

For his righteous life, the church authorities ordained Job as a priest. However, the brethren did not appreciate his ascetic labors. The monks scorned his patched clothing and despised his virtues. They believed the abbot was dooming them to starvation by giving away bread to the poor and needy. Not wishing to argue with the disgruntled monks, Job quietly left the monastery, taking neither food nor clothing.

After long wanderings, Job found another remote place called Rakova Pustyn. But even there, word of the righteous man spread, and more monks gathered, forming another monastery. As before, Job labored for the benefit of the brotherhood, chopping wood, grinding grain, hauling water, and washing clothes for the elderly monks.

Once, desiring to venerate the relics of the Moscow saints, Job made a pilgrimage to the capital. The patriarch Philaret heard of the renowned ascetic and desired to meet him. He invited Job to his residence and asked about his life. Philaret was so impressed by Job’s story that he blessed the hermit to stay in Moscow and serve as the patriarch’s cell attendant.

Job lived in the capital for some time, but, disliking worldly fame, he quietly left and returned to Mogilevo. The brotherhood, which had previously scorned him, reconciled with the elder. After living there for several more years, Job left the hermitage and set out in search of a new place for solitary life.

He found such a place on the Red Hills. But even here, Job could not hide from those seeking spiritual guidance. Once again, a new monastery formed.

When Patriarch Nikon began his church reforms, Job was among those who opposed the innovations. Life on the Red Hills became dangerous—Nikon was enforcing the new church rites with force across the land. Once again, the elder and his disciples went on their wanderings.

On the southern border of Russia, on the Lgov Hills, Job found a new place for solitary life. The monks dug caves in the hills, built cells, cleared forests, and planted fields. A small settlement of Old Believers fleeing government persecution grew near the monastery. A palisade with towers and embrasures protected both the monastery and settlement from the raids of steppe nomads.

These fortifications not only protected the monastery from infidel raids but also from the Tsar’s forces. In 1672, a detachment of streltsy (musketeers) was sent to the monastery to search for and arrest runaway Old Believers.

Though the monastery’s destruction was miraculously averted, Job realized it was no longer safe to stay. In 1674, he left the Lgov Hills and went to the Don River, where the free Cossacks, who steadfastly upheld the old faith, had long been inviting him.

Before leaving, Job visited Moscow one last time and met with the imprisoned nun Feodora, the exiled noblewoman Morozova. In the prison, Job gave communion to the suffering prisoner. The encounter moved the hermit so deeply that he could never recall her sufferings without tears for the rest of his life.

On the Chir River, a tributary of the Don, Job established his final monastery. Here, in 1681, he passed away. Sensing the approach of death, Job summoned the brotherhood and instructed them to open his grave after three years. If they found his body incorrupt, they would know that the old faith was pleasing to God and true.

All the Don region mourned the righteous man’s death. With tears, the brotherhood buried their elder in the monastery’s church. Soon, miracles began to occur at Job’s tomb. The sick were healed: the blind regained their sight, the deaf their hearing, and the mute their speech.

In 1689, steppe nomads attacked the monastery and burned it down. When the monks returned to the ashes, they were overjoyed to find that Job’s tomb remained intact. They opened the tomb and found the elder’s body and clothing completely preserved and miraculously fragrant, even though eight years had passed since his death.

The miraculous incorruption of Job’s holy relics filled the monks and Cossacks with joy. The seeds of faith and piety that Job of Lgov had sown bore good fruit in people’s hearts, and Orthodoxy was firmly established on the Don.

The Ruin of Solovetsky

The Solovetsky Monastery is one of the most illustrious Russian monastic communities, founded in the 15th century by the venerable fathers Zosima and Savvaty on the Solovetsky Islands in the White Sea. Isolated and well-fortified, the monastery was occasionally used as a prison by the authorities.

From 1649, the Greek monk Arseny was imprisoned there. Having been educated in Italy, Arseny traveled extensively, living in various countries and changing faiths multiple times. He had been Orthodox, Catholic, and even Muslim at different points in his life.

Arseny came to Russia but was exposed as an apostate and exiled to Solovki. In 1652, the future Patriarch Nikon visited the monastery. Unfortunately, Nikon met Arseny, was captivated by his education, and brought him to Moscow.

When Nikon began implementing the new church rituals, he entrusted Arseny, the heretic, with the critical task of “correcting” Russian books according to contemporary Greek standards. However, Arseny had a poor command of both Russian and Church Slavonic, so his translations deviated significantly from the old texts. His work lacked clarity, precision, and contained ambiguous and misleading elements.

The “corrected” liturgical books were brought to Solovki in October 1657. The abbot of the monastery, the wise Archimandrite Ilya, ordered the books to be locked away and instructed the monks to continue using the old books. Before Easter of 1658, all the monastery priests signed a refusal to accept the new books. Shortly after, this refusal was ratified by a council of the monks and lay brothers.

In 1659, after the death of Ilya, the monastery was led by the elder Bartholomew. During his tenure, Nikanor, a monk of Solovki and former abbot of the Savvin Storozhevsky Monastery near Moscow, returned to the monastery for retirement.

In 1666–1667, a major council was held in Moscow, condemning the old church rituals and their adherents. Bartholomew and Nikanor were summoned to the council, where Bartholomew chose to renounce the old practices and submit to the authorities.

When the brotherhood of Solovki learned of this, they petitioned for a new abbot. As a result, the elder Joseph, who had also renounced the old faith at the council, was appointed as the new abbot.

Joseph arrived at Solovki, bringing barrels of wine, mead, and beer. However, the monks refused to accept him, declaring, “We do not need you as our archimandrite!” The monks smashed the barrels at the harbor and unanimously elected the honorable Nikanor as their abbot.

The monks and lay brothers sent petitions to Tsar Alexey Mikhailovich, reaffirming their steadfast rejection of the new books and rituals: “Command us, great sovereign, to continue serving in the Solovetsky Monastery according to the old tradition, as instructed by the wonderworkers Zosima and Savvaty, Philip and Herman. We cannot accept the new services, great sovereign.”

This was an open challenge to the authorities, and the response was swift: the Tsar sent streltsy (musketeers) to subdue the monastery. Thus began a prolonged siege of the monastery.

In 1673, the voivode Meshcherinov arrived at Solovki with orders to capture the monastery by any means necessary, under penalty of death. However, capturing the island monastery—Russia’s best fortress of the time—was no easy task.

Meshcherinov ultimately succeeded through treachery. The monk Feoktist, unable to endure the hardships of the siege, fled to the voivode’s camp and promised to lead the soldiers into the fortress.

On the night of January 22, 1676, under the cover of a snowstorm, a detachment infiltrated the monastery through a hidden passage. They killed the drowsy guards and opened the monastery gates. The voivode’s army stormed in.

A bloody battle ensued, brief and unequal. The Nikonian soldiers scattered throughout the fortress, breaking into cells and churches, killing anyone they encountered—armed or unarmed, young or old, monks or lay brothers. Satisfied with the massacre, Meshcherinov returned to camp.

The voivode ordered the lay brother Samuil Vasilyev, who had led the defense, to be brought to him for interrogation:

“Why did you resist the Tsar and repel the army from the walls?”

Samuil replied, “I did not resist the Tsar, but stood courageously for the faith of our fathers.”

Enraged, the voivode ordered Samuil to be beaten to death.

Next, the elderly Archimandrite Nikanor was brought before Meshcherinov. The aged and prayer-worn monk was unable to walk and was carried to the voivode on a small sled by the streltsy.

Meshcherinov asked, “Why did you resist the sovereign? Why did you not let the army into the monastery?”

Nikanor answered, “We did not resist the sovereign and never intended to. But we were right not to let you in.”

Infuriated by the elder’s bold response, Meshcherinov began to shout insults. Nikanor calmly replied, “Why do you boast and exalt yourself? I do not fear you, for I hold the soul of the sovereign in my hand!”

The voivode, seething with anger, leaped from his chair and began beating the elder with a stick. He struck him mercilessly on the head, shoulders, and back, and then ordered the saint to be dragged outside the monastery walls, thrown into the moat, and guarded until he died.

The soldiers laughed and jeered as they dragged the helpless elder by his legs, his head bouncing against the stones and earth. The bloodied martyr was thrown into the moat, where he perished from his wounds and the cold.

One by one, the remaining monks and lay brothers were brought before Meshcherinov. The interrogations grew shorter and shorter.

The Christians’ firmness and courage drove the voivode to order their execution without mercy: heads were chopped off, some were hanged by the neck, others by the feet, and still others were impaled on hooks. Out of the five hundred people under siege, only fourteen survived—the rest were killed.

The martyrs, led to their execution, cried out to the voivode, “The Tsar will soon follow after us! And you, tormentor, prepare yourself for God’s judgment with us!”

On January 22, 1676, Tsar Alexey Mikhailovich suddenly fell gravely ill. On the night of January 23, he had a terrifying vision: the elders of the Solovetsky Monastery appeared to him and began sawing his body into pieces. The martyrs’ prophecy was being fulfilled.

Sensing his impending death, the Tsar sent a swift messenger to Meshcherinov with orders to lift the siege. But it was too late. Halfway there, the Tsar’s messenger encountered Meshcherinov’s courier, rushing to Moscow with news of the monastery’s capture.

Alexey Mikhailovich died in agony on January 29. According to the Church calendar, this day was dedicated to the coming Second Judgment of Christ and His Final Judgment.

The Streltsy Uprising

Tsar Alexey Mikhailovich was married twice. His first wife was Maria Ilyinichna from the ancient Miloslavsky family. She passed away in 1669. Two years later, the sovereign remarried, this time to Natalia Kirillovna from the relatively unknown Naryshkin family. From his first marriage, the Tsar had sons Fyodor and Ivan, and a daughter, Sophia. From his second marriage, he had a son, Peter.

After the death of Alexey Mikhailovich in 1676, Fyodor Alexeyevich ascended the throne. Without leaving an heir, he died in 1682, and immediately a power struggle ensued between the Miloslavsky and Naryshkin families.

The Miloslavsky faction wanted Ivan Alexeyevich to become Tsar, while the Naryshkins wanted the young Peter Alexeyevich on the throne. Meanwhile, Princess Sophia, a clever, ambitious, and power-hungry woman, had her own designs on ruling the country.

Crown Prince Ivan was a sickly and weak-willed young man, completely incapable of governing. Therefore, the boyars proclaimed young Peter, a strong and well-developed boy, as the new ruler.

Sophia realized that this meant she would face the usual fate of royal daughters—taking the veil and living out her days in a monastery. However, she was not willing to accept this and dreamed of power.

Determined to seize the throne, Sophia decided to incite an uprising among the Tsar’s army—the Streltsy (musketeers). They had long been discontented with their service, as their commanders, centurions, and colonels abused their positions: they severely punished the Streltsy, forced them to work for free on their estates, and often didn’t pay their wages for years.

Sophia’s loyalists stoked the army’s discontent by spreading rumors that under the Naryshkins, the Streltsy would face even more oppression and hardships. On May 15, 1682, a rumor spread through Moscow that the Naryshkins had murdered Crown Prince Ivan.

With the ringing of bells and the beating of drums, the Streltsy regiments, with banners and weapons, marched into the Kremlin. Shouting that they had come to root out traitors and murderers of the royal family, the soldiers stormed the palace. Although Crown Prince Ivan was alive and unharmed, the Streltsy began killing the Naryshkins and the boyars who supported them.

The army, supported by the townspeople, took control of the entire capital. The authorities had no choice but to listen to the demands of the rebels: they decreed that there would be two Tsars—Ivan and Peter—with Princess Sophia Alexeyevna as their co-regent.

The authorities agreed to these demands, and the dual coronation of Ivan and Peter was scheduled for June 25. The leader of the Streltsy was appointed Prince Ivan Andreyevich Khovansky, a renowned voivode (military commander) and a fervent Old Believer who did not hide his convictions.

During these turbulent times, many Christians thought that, taking advantage of the government’s weakness and Khovansky’s influence, they could convince Ivan and Peter to return to the old faith, which had been trampled under Alexey Mikhailovich and Nikon. The Streltsy and Muscovites drafted a petition to the Tsars, asking for the restoration of the true Orthodox faith throughout Russia and an open debate on the faith.

Prince Khovansky volunteered to mediate between the people and the royal court. On the day of the coronation, he presented the petition to Princess Sophia Alexeyevna and Patriarch Joachim. On June 27, Khovansky met with the patriarch, accompanied by representatives from the army and townspeople, to debate the faith.

This debate, held in private, led nowhere. Joachim was not inclined to engage in theological debate; he didn’t even have his own opinions on matters of faith. As he often said, “I know neither the old faith nor the new, but whatever the rulers command, that I will do and follow in all things.”

A second meeting was scheduled for July 5. That morning, crowds of Muscovites gathered in the Kremlin. In the Faceted Chamber appeared Tsarina Natalia Kirillovna, Princess Sophia, Patriarch Joachim, clergy, and boyars.

Carrying the cross, the Gospel, icons of the Mother of God and the Last Judgment, ancient books, and lit candles, the Old Believers entered the chamber, led by Father Nikita Dobrynin from Suzdal.

The famous “debate on the faith” began. Nikita read out questions to the Nikonians, but Joachim immediately told the group, “It is not for you to correct church matters. You must obey us. The new books have been corrected according to grammar, but you have not even touched upon the grammar and do not understand the power it holds.”

Nikita responded, “We did not come to discuss grammar with you, but the traditions of the Church!”

A heated discussion ensued. Joachim appeared uncertain, while Sophia encouraged him and passionately joined in the debate. The Old Believers read out their petition denouncing Patriarch Nikon’s innovations.

The Nikonians remained silent, unable to respond. Then Princess Sophia exclaimed, “If Patriarch Nikon is a heretic, then our father and brother are also heretics! Does that mean the current Tsars are not Tsars, and the Patriarchs are not Patriarchs? We will not listen to such blasphemy! We will all leave the kingdom!”

Laughter erupted in the chamber: “It’s about time you went to a monastery, Your Highness, and stopped disturbing the kingdom. As long as the Tsars are well, we won’t miss you!”

Angry, Sophia ordered the debate to end. It was decided that the discussion would continue on July 7. The Old Believers left the chamber triumphantly, shouting, “We’ve won! We’ve won! Believe as we do, people!”

But the debate never resumed. Sophia had bribed the Streltsy: centurions and colonels were given 50 to 100 rubles (a year’s salary), some were promoted, and the rank-and-file soldiers were given wine and vodka from the royal cellars. The army succumbed to temptation and declared their indifference to matters of faith: “We don’t care about the old faith. That’s the business of the Patriarch and the Church Council.”

The unfortunate soldiers, who had traded Orthodoxy for money and alcohol, seized the main defender of the Old Believers, Nikita Dobrynin, whom they had been ready to follow just the day before, and handed him over to the authorities. After brutal torture, the holy confessor was beheaded on Red Square on July 11.

Khovansky did not remain in power for long. Princess Sophia considered him too dangerous. The prince and his son were falsely accused of treason and plotting to overthrow the Tsars and seize the throne for themselves. Khovansky and his son were executed on September 17, 1682. The uprising, known as the “Khovanshchina,” bears his name.

This tragic uprising demonstrated to Christians that the authorities had irrevocably abandoned the old faith and had no intention of deviating from the path set by Alexey Mikhailovich and Nikon.

The Nun Devora

Among the holy men and women of the Old Testament, the prophetess Deborah stands out. This remarkable woman, who lived more than three thousand years ago during a time of great hardship for ancient Israel, inspired her people to rise up against a pagan king. Encouraged by Deborah’s prophecies and her presence on the battlefield, the Jews went to war and defeated the heathens. After the victory, the prophetess praised the Lord with a triumphant song:

“When the people of Israel take up arms, bless the Lord! Hear, O kings; listen, O rulers! I will sing to the Lord; I will praise the God of Israel… Thus let all Your enemies perish, O Lord! But let those who love You be like the sun, when it rises in its strength.”

The Jewish prophetess Deborah can be compared to the Russian nun Devora—noblewoman Evdokia Petrovna Naryshkina. This brave and inspiring woman courageously confessed her true faith, for which she suffered royal disfavor and disgrace. However, her name is less well-known than that of Lady Morozova.

Evdokia was the daughter of a nobleman, Pyotr Grigoryevich Khomutov. According to legend, the Khomutov family descended from a noble knight, Thomas of the Scottish Hamilton clan, who settled in Russia in the 16th century. The name “Hamilton” was modified into the more familiar “Khomutov.”

The Hamiltons were one of the most distinguished families of the Scottish kingdom and, at one point, even laid claim to its throne. They were frequently called upon to govern the country when the Scottish kings were minors. However, in Russia, the Khomutovs were counted among the lesser nobility.

Evdokia Petrovna married Fyodor Poluektovich Naryshkin, the brother of Kirill Poluektovich Naryshkin, who was the father of Tsarina Natalia Kirillovna. Thus, Evdokia was the aunt of Alexei Mikhailovich’s second wife.

Tsar Alexei’s marriage to Natalia Kirillovna raised the status of the Naryshkin family. In November 1673, Fyodor Poluektovich was appointed governor of Kholmogory.

Today, Kholmogory is a large village near the White Sea, but at that time, it was a prosperous city on a vital trade route—the only sea route through which Russia traded with Europe. In Kholmogory’s markets and warehouses, one could find an array of goods: honey, wax, caviar, copper, tin, lead, furs, perfumes, fine fabrics, and exotic spices.

Here, ships were built, rigging was made, and smithing, carpentry, spinning, and weaving trades flourished. Thus, the position of the Kholmogory governor was very significant, concentrating all civil, military, and judicial power along the White Sea coast.

While living in Kholmogory, the Naryshkin family became well aware of the siege and destruction of the Solovetsky Monastery, as it was from this city that the musketeer regiments departed to subdue the holy monastery.

However, this prestigious post brought little joy to Fyodor Poluektovich. He began settling into the city, building a stone palace and new wooden chambers at the governor’s estate. But the death of Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich in 1676 deeply troubled him.

Naryshkin feared that his family would fall out of favor with the new sovereign, Fyodor Alexeyevich. His worries and anxiety led to his death in Kholmogory on December 15 of that same year.

Evdokia was left a widow with three young sons—Andrei, Vasily, and Semyon. She took her husband’s body back to Moscow to bury him in the family crypt at the Vysokopetrovsky Monastery. After burying her husband, Evdokia stayed at the royal court.

Fyodor Alexeyevich’s suspicions were confirmed. The Naryshkins were not held in favor in the capital, and soon the widow experienced the Tsar’s wrath, which only intensified when it became known that Evdokia, like Lady Morozova, adhered to the Old Faith.

Just like Feodosia Prokopyevna, Evdokia Petrovna took monastic vows and became nun Devora. This was unheard of, scandalous, and unforgivable—the Tsarina’s aunt was a defender of the Old Belief!

For this, Naryshkina, along with her mother, children, and servants, was exiled to the distant village of Lobachevo in the Alatyr district. A special overseer was assigned to ensure that no one secretly visited her, brought her letters, or allowed her to communicate secretly or send letters of her own.

Perhaps the Tsar wanted to prevent Devora from communicating with her royal niece.

A guard of ten musketeers was placed around the exiled family, with shifts changing monthly.

However, Devora did not remain in Lobachevo for long. On July 29, 1678, she, along with her mother and sons, escaped from their guards and found refuge in the village of Pustyn in the neighboring Arzamas district.

Near this village, in a forest by the shores of Lake Pustyn, the nun built a small house. Though the trees completely concealed it from prying eyes, Devora dared not leave it during the day. She only ventured out at night to enjoy the view of the lake.

For six years, the local residents kept the hiding place of the royal relative a secret. But in 1684, someone informed the authorities about Devora’s shelter. Immediately, a royal decree was sent to Arzamas, instructing the local governor to send musketeers to capture the nun and imprison her.

Unfortunately, we do not know the details of how this order was carried out. However, it is certain that the nun was captured and sent to prison. Nonetheless, this did not affect the fate of her sons, who later served the Tsar. For example, in 1692, Semyon was appointed governor of the city of Solikamsk. Some sources suggest that Devora lived there until Semyon’s death in 1694.

In the village of Pustyn, Devora left a lasting memory. The place where her house stood became known as “Devora’s Place” or “The Tsarina’s Place.” In time, rumors spread that it had been the residence of Tsarina Natalia Kirillovna, who was exiled from Moscow for her loyalty to ancient traditions.

In the past, Christians gathered at Devora’s Place to pray together and read edifying spiritual books. In the mid-19th century, treasure hunters, taking advantage of the Old Believers, dug at this place and found a cauldron, a copper kettle, two silver spoons, and a prosphora seal.

That is all the material memory of Devora that the land preserved. But human memory proved more reliable. The Old Believers long revered the nun as a holy ascetic who loved the Lord and shone like the sun rising in its strength.

A Time of Suffering

From the very beginning of the Church schism, the authorities persecuted devout Old Believers. Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich and Patriarch Nikon punished all who resisted the imposition of the new liturgical rites. In Russia, the new faith was established with fire and sword, with gallows and racks, whips, and beatings.

The finest people of Russia, who remained loyal to the ancient church traditions and the faith of their fathers, were declared criminals, enemies of the faith, the Tsar, and the Fatherland. They were branded with the shameful labels of “schismatics” and “heretics.” And Old Belief itself was denounced as a “schism.”

This unjust treatment of Old Believers was justified and institutionalized by the Church Council held in Moscow in 1666–1667. Alexei Mikhailovich summoned not only Russian bishops to the council but also Greek clergy, including Patriarchs Paisios and Macarius.

The main advisors and translators for the patriarchs were two Greeks living in Moscow: Paisios and Dionysius. Through the biased eyes of these two individuals, the Greek patriarchs viewed Russian Church affairs, of which they had little understanding. Yet these advisors turned out to be hypocrites and deceitful manipulators.

Paisios had abandoned Orthodoxy at the age of thirteen and converted to Catholicism. Preaching the superiority of the Western Church and advocating for union with it, he traveled through many Orthodox lands before arriving in Russia. There, he passed himself off as a Greek metropolitan and quickly gained the trust of Alexei Mikhailovich.

While living in Moscow, Paisios constantly begged the Tsar for money and secretly engaged in trading furs, precious stones, and tobacco—though the latter was strictly forbidden in Russia at the time.

Archimandrite Dionysius was just as much of a fraud. He arrived in Moscow at the invitation of Alexei Mikhailovich and Nikon to work on the new liturgical books.

Soon enough, Dionysius became indispensable at court, and his serious transgressions were forgiven. However, like Paisios, Russian affairs held little interest for him. His only concern was the Tsar’s lavish rewards—gold, silver, and furs.

With the involvement of these Greek patriarchs, the Church Council anathematized the old rites and their supporters. To this day, the thunderous curse echoes over Russian soil:

“If anyone does not listen to our commands and refuses to submit to the Church and this Council but begins to argue and oppose us, we consign such an opponent, by the authority given to us, to a curse and anathema, as a rebellious heretic. And if they remain obstinate until their death, then even after death they shall be condemned. Their soul shall share the fate of Judas the Betrayer and the damned heretics. Let iron, stones, and wood decay and disintegrate, but let this person be neither decayed nor destroyed forever. Amen.”

Thus, the council condemned not only the Old Believers but the entire Russian Church and all the Russian saints who had adhered to the old rites. The council participants accused Ancient Russia of ignorance:

“Our Russian saints were fools and did not understand. They were uneducated people. Why believe in them? They couldn’t even read!”

The authorities did not only persecute living Christians but also desecrated deceased saints. For instance, Saint Anna of Kashin (who passed away in 1368), the wife of Saint Michael, the prince of Tver, who was slain by the Tatars, suffered from this persecution. Her incorrupt relics, kept in the town of Kashin, included a hand folded in the two-fingered sign of the cross. This attested to the antiquity and holiness of the two-fingered sign, confirming the truth of Old Belief and shaming the Nikonian reforms.

In 1677, Moscow Patriarch Joachim excluded Anna from the list of saints. Her “Life” was declared false, and her relics were hidden away. The patriarch forbade any celebrations in her honor or prayers to her. Naturally, the Old Believers refused to comply with this decision and continued to venerate Saint Anna.

In 1685, the persecution of Old Believers was officially sanctioned with the issuance of the “Twelve Articles” by Tsarevna Sophia. This law, unprecedented in its cruelty, was drafted with the direct involvement of Patriarch Joachim, who stained his hands with the blood of the innocent.

According to the new law, Old Believer preachers were to be executed by being burned in log cabins, and their ashes scattered to the wind. Ordinary believers were to be whipped, tortured, have their right hands cut off, their ears and tongues mutilated, and be sent into exile or imprisoned. Even those who merely sheltered Old Believers or knew of their whereabouts but failed to inform the authorities were to be flogged and exiled to monasteries. All the property of Old Believers—estates, lands, shops, and businesses—was to be confiscated into the royal treasury.

The adoption of the “Twelve Articles” resulted in hundreds of thousands of Russian people, fearing persecution and execution, fleeing to the country’s remote outskirts, to the impenetrable forests of the north and the vast steppes of the south. Many even left their homeland entirely, seeking refuge in neighboring states such as Turkey and Poland.

Noble Old Believers, fearing the loss of their estates, chose to abandon their ancestral faith and joined the Nikonian Church. Thus, Old Belief became predominantly a movement of the common people—peasants, Cossacks, artisans, and merchants.

The authorities persecuted not only Old Believers but also old icons and books. For instance, if an icon depicted the two-fingered sign of the cross, it was confiscated from the owners, sealed with wax, and then either destroyed or painted over. This continued even into the 19th century!

Similarly, officials treated old liturgical books printed before Patriarch Nikon’s reforms. If such books were found, they were confiscated and burned.

In Nikonian monasteries and churches, old icons and books were quickly replaced with new ones, and the church’s antiquities were relegated to storerooms and basements. Christians secretly bought them back.

Only in the 20th century was the Old Believers’ devotion to their ancestors’ legacy recognized and appreciated, acknowledging their immense contribution to preserving the treasures of Holy Rus’.

Thus, in the mid-17th century, the senseless persecution of Old Believers began, continuing with few interruptions until recent times. Over centuries of persecution, thousands of lives were lost, and thousands of fates were broken. Russian soil was drenched with the blood and tears of new martyrs and confessors of the Old Faith.

The Fourth Solovetsky Petition

To the Tsar and sovereign, great prince Alexei Mikhailovich, autocrat of all Great, Little, and White Russia, your humble petitioners are your monks of the Solovetsky Monastery: Cellarer Azary, Treasurer Geronty, priests, deacons, and all the common and sick brothers, servants, and laborers…

In this current year of 7176 (1668)… Archimandrite Joseph has been sent to us to replace Archimandrite Bartholomew, a monk of our monastery. And he has been ordered to serve according to the new service books. But we, your humble petitioners, dare not alter the traditions of the apostles and the holy fathers, fearing the judgment of the King of Kings.

We all wish to die in the old faith, in which your father, the pious sovereign Tsar and great prince Michael Fyodorovich of all Russia, and the other pious tsars and great princes lived out their days in godliness…

We humbly plead with your pious majesty, weeping with tears. Have mercy on us, your poor petitioners and orphans, and do not order us to change the traditions and practices of the venerable fathers Zosima and Savvaty. Command, O sovereign, that we remain in the same old faith in which your father, the pious sovereign, the pious tsars, the great princes, and our fathers passed away, and in which the venerable fathers Zosima, Savvaty, Herman, Metropolitan Philip, and all the holy fathers pleased God.

If you, O great sovereign, anointed by God, are not inclined to let us remain in the faith passed down by the holy fathers and wish to change the books, we beg your mercy. Have pity on us, and do not send us more teachers in vain, for we cannot change our former Orthodox faith. And, O sovereign, send your royal sword upon us and transfer us from this troubled life to a peaceful and eternal life.

We are not opposed to you, O great sovereign. Yes, O sovereign, we ask for your mercy with all our hearts, and we are ready to accept great angelic orders and to be prepared for death in that hour. Great sovereign Tsar, have mercy, have pity!

Abba Dosifey

One of the tireless defenders of Old Belief was the venerable Dosifey. Preaching loyalty to ancient piety, he traveled all over Russia, from the White Sea to the Black, visiting many monasteries, towns, and villages, instructing people in the old faith.

Both Protopope Avvakum and Boyarynya Morozova knew and loved Dosifey. He was also venerated by common people—townsfolk, peasants, and Cossacks. Dosifey earned widespread respect not only for his righteous life and monastic labors but also for his unceasing denouncement of various false teachings and errors.

Unfortunately, we have no information about the time and place of Dosifey’ birth or his secular name. It can only be assumed that he took monastic vows and was ordained a priest in the ancient Nikolo-Besedny Monastery near the town of Tikhvin .

When the Tsar and the Patriarch began imposing new liturgical rites throughout the country, Dosifey found himself among the opponents of these innovations. The monk left the monastery and began to wander—visiting Veliky Novgorod, Moscow, and the Don.

He eventually returned to the Nikolo-Besedny Monastery and was even appointed its abbot. However, in December 1669, Dosifey permanently left the monastery, secretly departing for Moscow.

In the capital, he settled in the home of Feodosia Morozova, who always warmly welcomed those zealous for the old faith. The Boyarynya had long desired to take monastic vows, and so, yielding to her persistent requests, Dosifey tonsured her and gave her the name Feodora.

Afterward, the elder resumed his travels, wandering between the north and south, occasionally visiting Moscow. In the north, his dwelling was the Trinity Sunaretsky Hermitage near Lake Onega. In the south, Dosifey spent extended periods at the Vvedensky Hermitage in Zhabyne, near the town of Belev .

When in Moscow, living in Morozova’s home, the elder sometimes celebrated the Liturgy in her terem (tower-house) and administered Holy Communion to the Boyarynya and her household. On one autumn day in 1671, as Feodora and her sister Evdokia Urusova approached the Holy Mysteries with tearful reverence, Dosifey saw their faces suddenly shine radiantly, like those of the angels of God, and they remained so while they received Communion.

The elder marveled at the miracle and said: “This is no coincidence! I believe that this year, they will suffer for Christ.”

And so it happened—soon Feodora and Evdokia began their path of suffering for the faith, being arrested and imprisoned.

While Dosifey lived at the Trinity Hermitage, he encountered people spreading a new, unheard-of doctrine among Christians.

These preachers taught that since the time of the Church schism, Russia was ruled by the devil. The Russian Tsar, they said, was no longer an autocrat but the Antichrist—an enemy of Christ and a servant of the devil. They proclaimed that the future no longer held any hope, only a bleak and oppressive present. Old Believers, they declared, should not live in the kingdom of the Antichrist or submit to his rule.

The only way to leave this kingdom, they said, was through suicide. These new teachers urged Christians to organize mass self-immolations. Many naive and simple-hearted people, believing them, locked themselves in huts and burned themselves alive, along with their wives and children.

When one such teacher approached Dosifey, asking for his blessing for the self-immolations, the elder was horrified, for suicide is a grievous sin before the Lord. Not only did he refuse to bless the self-immolations, but he also instructed his disciple, the monk Euphrosynius, to write a treatise against such fiery suicides.

After staying at the Trinity Hermitage, Dosifey moved to the Volga, and in 1685, he relocated to the Don, where the Old Faith had gained wide acceptance. He settled by the river Chir, at a monastery founded by Job of Lgov.

Here stood an unconsecrated church, built during the life of the venerable Job. With the consent of the Cossacks, Dosifey consecrated it on March 21, 1686, dedicating it to the Protection of the Most Holy Theotokos.

For several years, Dosifey, beloved and venerated by the Cossacks, lived in the monastery, celebrating the Liturgy in the new church. However, even here, he had to confront preachers of strange new doctrines.

A man named Kozma Kosoy came to the Don, claiming to be a prophet and asserting that he knew the unfathomable and unspeakable mysteries of God. He taught that the Christian faith had been abolished across the entire earth, that there was no longer a Church, no priests, and no sacraments, and that the world would end in five years.

Dosifey condemned these errors, saying: “Kozma, Kozma! Your reasoning is false. You condemn the priesthood and the sacraments. You claim to know the mysteries of God. Tell us, what is the mystery of God? Why do you remain silent and give no answer?”

Nevertheless, Kozma managed to gain the support of some of the Cossacks. He had around two thousand followers on the Don. In the summer of 1687, Kozma began gathering forces for an armed march on Moscow.

However, this plan was never realized, as the Don atamans did not support it. Kozma was captured and sent to the capital, where, after torture and interrogation, he died.

Kozma’s reckless words and actions alarmed the Tsarist authorities. Troops were sent to the Don to restore order. Fearing persecution, Dosifey, along with his disciples and followers, left the river Chir in the summer of 1688. They moved to the shores of the Caspian Sea, to lands ruled by Muslim authorities.

There, near the mouth of the Kuma River , they established a settlement. It was here that Dosifey reposed, no later than 1691. The Old Believers mourned the death of their great ascetic deeply. No one was ashamed of their tears—neither the old nor the young, neither men nor women. Everyone wept inconsolably, realizing what a pastor and teacher they had lost.

A few years later, the settlers left this land. They planned to relocate to the Kuban. Before leaving the banks of the Kuma, the Old Believers decided to take Dosifey’ remains with them.

Upon exhuming his grave, they joyfully found his body incorrupt.

Placing the coffin with the saint’s relics on a cart, the Cossacks set out on their journey. However, out of excessive love for Dosifey, they made a grave mistake—they placed silver under his body. Yet the venerable father had been selfless in life, hating all earthly wealth. And for this, the settlers faced divine judgment.

Along the way, they were attacked by nomads, who looted the caravan. Opening Dosifey’ coffin, the raiders found the silver and took it. They then desecrated the incorrupt relics, cutting them into pieces and scattering them across the steppe. Some time later, the Don Cossacks found the remains, gathered them, reassembled them, and gave them a proper burial.

Kirill of Suna

A friend and companion of Abbot Dosifey was Monk Kirill—a famous ascetic, zealous defender of the faith, and founder of the Suna Trinity Hermitage.

In the world, Kirill was known as Karp Vasilyev. He was born in 1608 in the village of Andreev Navolok, on the Suna River, not far from the well-known village of Kondopoga . His parents were peasants.

From a young age, Karp avoided games and idle talk, displaying meekness and humility. He expressed a desire to learn to read early on. After much convincing, his parents allowed him to go to Kondopoga, where a priest lived at the local church.

There, the boy quickly learned to read and returned home. Karp frequently traveled to Kondopoga to attend church services, listening to the psalms and scriptures. The priest even entrusted him with reading psalms during services.

When Karp turned sixteen, his parents decided it was time for him to marry. Although the young man dreamt of joining a monastery and embracing the monastic life, he had to submit to his parents’ wishes. He married and lived with his wife, Tatyana, for three years. They had a daughter named Akilina.

However, Karp remained burdened by worldly life, and the thought of living as an ascetic continued to weigh on him. One night, while his family slept, he quietly left his home.

Taking only bread and clothing, he set out for the Yuryev Mountain Monastery. This remote hermitage had been founded by St. Diodor (who passed away in 1633), a monk from the Solovetsky Monastery. The holy elder had settled on Mount Yuryev by the Ileksha River , 70 versts from the nearest village.

It was to this isolated monastery that Karp came. Diodor kindly welcomed him and allowed him to stay. Karp spent a year there, performing various obediences. In 1628, he was tonsured as a monk and given the name Kirill.

After two years at the Yuryev Mountain Monastery, Kirill decided to visit other monasteries to study their rules and ways of life. Thus began a long pilgrimage through northern monasteries, ending with his arrival at the famous monastery of St. Alexander of Svir .

Here, Kirill resolved to return home and visit his parents, who thought him lost forever. He told the abbot of his intentions, though the abbot doubted the wisdom of Kirill’s return, fearing that family love might entangle the monk in worldly life. But Kirill persisted, and the abbot let him go.

When Kirill returned to Andreev Navolok after an absence of more than 15 years, his family was astonished and overjoyed. His daughter had grown and married during his absence. After a few days of visiting, Kirill intended to return to the Svir Monastery, but his family pleaded with him to stay.

Not wanting to go against his parents’ wishes, Kirill complied. He erected a cross and built a small cell near the village on the island of Vidan on the Suna River. This took place around 1645.

On the island, Kirill lived as a hermit. By day, he cleared land for farming, and by night, he prayed. When sinful thoughts assaulted him, he tormented his body by exposing it to the bites of mosquitoes, flies, and horseflies, and by beating himself with fir branches until he bled.

He later built a mill and another cell—a guesthouse—for travelers and peasants who came to him to grind their grain.

The demons inhabiting Vidan Island began to harass Kirill, shouting at him in terrible voices:

“Old man, why have you come to this wilderness? This is our place. Leave now, or you will die a terrible death. No one has ever dared to live here before, and you think you can defeat us!”

But Kirill was not frightened. The demons then began to beat him, shouting:

“Leave this place!”

They grabbed the monk by the legs and dragged him around the island, even trying to throw him into the water. The hermit prayed fervently, and God drove the foul spirits away. After that, they no longer dared to torment him.

In 1657, Monk Epifany, a future companion of Archpriest Avvakum, came to Kirill from the Solovetsky Monastery. Following him, another opponent of the church reforms, Monk Varlaam, arrived. Varlaam was a true ascetic—he lived not in a cell, but in a pit dug beneath it, lying in a coffin he had prepared for himself. He died praying in this coffin.

Abbot Dosifey frequently visited and lived for long periods in the Suna Hermitage with his disciples.

Gradually, people seeking the strict monastic life gathered on Vidan Island. Around Kirill’s isolated cell, a monastery formed with many buildings and a thriving estate. A wooden church was built in honor of the Holy Trinity, and the monastery became known as the Trinity Hermitage.

In time, Kirill’s parents, his wife, and his daughter Akilina all became monastics in this hermitage. Even his grandson Ivan later took monastic vows.

The Trinity Hermitage became a stronghold of the Orthodox faith in the north, as Kirill was a zealous adherent of the old traditions. The monastery’s services were conducted solely according to pre-Nikonian books, attracting many pilgrims.

In 1684, Novgorod Metropolitan Korniliy planned to capture Kirill and destroy the Old Believer monastery. Informers who had visited the hermitage reported that they were still praying according to the old rites. Soon, a military detachment was sent to the Suna. Kirill’s monastery, built through years of labor, was plundered.

In Kirill’s place, the authorities sent Ephraim, a new abbot from Veliky Novgorod. Ephraim was a gentle man sympathetic to the old faith, and under his leadership, Old Believers continued to gather and pray at the hermitage.

Kirill managed to escape. He fled to the Vyg River, which flows into the White Sea. There, he built a cell and lived alone, avoiding human contact.

In the spring of 1690, as the snow began to melt, two local hunters came to the Vyg in search of fish and furs. They followed a ski trail up a mountain from the river and found a small hut. Knocking on the door and receiving no answer, they entered. Inside, they saw the dead Kirill sitting on a bench, leaning against the wall and facing the icons. An open Psalter lay before him, and a censer with incense stood nearby.

The Old Believers who came to the Vyg buried the monk according to Christian tradition.

When an Old Believer monastery was later established on the Vyg, its inhabitants built a small chapel over Kirill’s grave, which Semyon Denisov later replaced with a larger one.

Meanwhile, the impoverished Suna Hermitage ceased to exist in the second half of the 18th century.

Kirill of Vyg

The venerable monk Kirill was not only one of the most zealous defenders of the true faith but also the oldest among them. He was adorned not only with piety and wisdom but also with the venerable grey hair of a man over a century old. Born during the reign of Tsar Ivan the Terrible, Kirill passed away under the rule of Tsars Ivan and Peter, the sons of Alexei Mikhailovich.

The future ascetic was born in 1570 to a peasant family living near the Totma River, and at his baptism, he was named Konon. At the age of fifteen, he became an orphan. Left on his own, Konon learned to read and frequently visited the church. Listening to stories of ancient hermits, he grew to love the monastic way of life. Whenever he encountered monks, he eagerly questioned them about the Kingdom of Heaven and the salvation of the soul.

Unwilling to tie himself to marriage and household duties, Konon set off on a journey to find true ascetics, fasting and praying in the wilderness. He found them in the forests along the Volga River, where a pious elder and his disciples lived in seclusion from the world.

This elder was renowned for his severe monastic lifestyle. He tamed his flesh with heavy iron chains, fasting, and prostrations. His disciples lived in constant prayer and labor. Some of them ate only every other day and slept sitting or standing rather than lying down.

Witnessing this devout and rigorous way of life, Konon desired to take monastic vows and remain with the elder. But the elder said:

“Child, God will fulfill your desire according to His will. But you are young and may not be able to endure the trials of monastic life here. I will give you good advice—go to the monastery of Saint Korniliy of Komel, where you will be received with love. You will become a monk and save your soul.”

Konon followed the elder’s advice and went to the Korniliyev Monastery. The abbot accepted him and tested the young man in various labors for several years. When Konon turned eighteen, he was tonsured as a monk and given the name Korniliy. The young monk was assigned to an experienced elder, under whose guidance he lived for twenty-four years.

After the death of his elder, Korniliy asked the abbot for permission to travel to different monasteries to observe how other ascetics saved their souls. Journeying from one monastery to another, the monk eventually reached Moscow, where he lived for two years in the household of Patriarch Ioasaf, baking bread for him.

Later, Korniliy traveled to Novgorod and visited the monasteries there before returning to Moscow. There, he caught the attention of the new Patriarch Iosif, who assigned him the important and honorable role of sacristan, overseeing the proper conduct of services in the Archangel Cathedral of the Kremlin, the burial place of the grand princes and tsars.

While living in Moscow, Korniliy witnessed the rise of Nikon, who became the Metropolitan of Novgorod and frequently visited Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich. One night, a pious elder had a vision of a huge, terrifying serpent coiling itself around the royal palace, with its head and tail entering through a window to whisper in the tsar’s ear.

The elder shared this vision with several monks, including Korniliy. They investigated and discovered that Nikon had been speaking with the tsar that night, though the content of their conversation remained unknown. Horrified, they pondered the meaning of this vision.

When Nikon became Patriarch, it became clear what he had been discussing with the tsar—the introduction of church reforms. Realizing this, Korniliy left Moscow and resumed his wandering. His companion was Abbot Dosifey, and together they traveled through many lands.

Eventually, Korniliy reached the shores of Lake Seliger and settled in the hermitage of Saint Nil of Stolobny, where he lived for six years. The monks of this hermitage adhered to the old faith and conducted services according to the ancient books.

While in Nil’s Hermitage, Korniliy fell gravely ill and was near death. One night, he felt compelled to go to the church and pray to Saint Nil. Struggling to reach the church, the elderly monk tearfully prayed:

“Saint Nil, deliver me from this illness!”

Returning to his cell, Korniliy fell asleep. In a dream, Saint Nil appeared, took him by the hand, and lifted him. The monk awoke covered in sweat but completely healed.

When the authorities learned that the hermitage of Nil was conducting services according to the old rites, they sent a new priest with Nikonian assistants. The monks turned to Korniliy, who was serving as sacristan, and said:

“When the new priest begins to serve using the new books, show courage and stop him, and we will support you.”

When the priest began to serve according to the new books, Korniliy told him:

“Stop your nonsense!”

The priest replied:

“Sacristan, know your place, and don’t tell me what to do!”

The argument continued for a long time. Having exhausted all arguments, Korniliy struck the priest on the head with a censer full of burning coals, shattering it.

The priest’s assistants rushed at Korniliy, grabbing him by the hair and beating him. The monks rushed at the Nikonians, and a brawl broke out. Korniliy barely escaped from the church and fled the hermitage, leaving all his belongings behind.

The elder headed north into the dense forests, where he lived for a long time, moving from place to place to avoid persecution. In 1687, he settled on the Vyg River. There, he built a small hut.

“This is my resting place. If it is God’s will, I will settle here forever. Korniliy builds his last cell,” he resolved.

Word spread about the pious hermit, and people began to visit him—not only from nearby villages and towns but also from distant places. The monk welcomed everyone, teaching them about the salvation of their souls and urging them to embrace the monastic life. He taught some to read, and he tonsured others.

To all who came, the elder advised forming a community on the Vyg, creating a hermitage similar to the ancient monasteries. Thus, in 1694, with Korniliy’s blessing, the famous Vyg Hermitage was established.

Soon after the Feast of the Protection of the Theotokos, the Old Believers gathered in one place, began felling trees, and built a large house for communal prayers and meals. Faith and hard work soon performed a miracle—the Vyg Hermitage expanded and flourished, growing into a populous and prosperous settlement.

Magnificently adorned chapels, belfries with bells, countless cells, and various workshops soon sprang up. Diligent scribes, talented icon painters, and skilled metalworkers supplied the entire Old Believer Russia with handwritten and cast icons.

However, Korniliy did not live to see this. He passed away on March 30, 1695, at the age of 125. The Vyg Hermitage continued to thrive for another century and a half, until it was destroyed by the tsarist authorities in the mid-19th century.

Vitaliy of Vyg

Just as the night sky is adorned with bright stars, so is our land blessed with illustrious ascetics. Particularly numerous were these holy men on the Russian North. Neither the icy White Sea, nor harsh winters, barren lands, impassable forests, bogs, or wild beasts frightened the monks who sought secluded lives of prayer and asceticism.

One of these pious hermits was Elder Vitaliy, who lived alongside the monk Korniliy on the Vyg River.

Like Archimandrite Spiridon, Boyarynya Morozova, Iov of Lyog, and the nun Devorah, Vitaliy hailed from a noble boyar family. He had once lived in Moscow, celebrated as a valiant warrior, serving Tsars Mikhail Fedorovich and Alexei Mikhailovich, and had earned many battle scars in numerous skirmishes.

In 1654, a dreadful plague ravaged Russia, claiming thousands of lives. The plague coincided with the beginning of Patriarch Nikon’s church reforms. At that time, the Greek Arseny took on the task of “correcting” Russian liturgical books.

The people viewed the plague as a divine punishment, interpreting it thus: “The patriarch harbors a known heretic, Elder Arseny, giving him full authority and ordering him to revise the printed books. And that monk has ruined many of them.”

During the plague, Vitaliy lost his entire household—his wife, children, relatives, and servants. This brave warrior, fearing death, vowed to take monastic vows if he survived. When the plague subsided, he kept his promise and was tonsured in one of the capital’s monasteries.

However, upon seeing Nikon’s audacious rejection of the ancient piety and ancestral faith, Vitaliy left Moscow and traveled north. He wandered through various places, concealing his noble origins and hiding from both persecutors and robbers.

While living on the Svir River, bandits attacked Vitaliy, burning his humble cell and stealing his supplies. Vitaliy fled into the forest and made his way to Mashozero, where a small monastery then existed. Its abbot, sympathetic to the old faith, welcomed the fugitive and allowed him to live in the abandoned cells, which had a fearsome reputation. It was said that anyone daring to reside in them would be killed by demons.

Vitaliy lived in these cells for several years. At first, demons tormented and terrorized him, but eventually, he drove them away and lived alone, enduring hunger and cold. He would walk to nearby villages and hermitages for bread. People were struck by his poverty—he wore only a heavily patched woolen cassock, even during the harshest winter frosts.

Christ-loving people pitied the monk, offering him food and clothing. If invited into a home, he would eat with gratitude, but only the simplest fare. If not invited, he would fast for two or three days without asking for food. He never accepted money and never took anything for future use.

The hermit’s sole possession was a small Psalter with a calendar of saints. He always carried it in a backpack. Occasionally, Vitaliy would fill the bag with heavy stones or wet logs and carry them on his back over long distances.

If someone on horseback offered him a ride or to carry his load, the elder would always decline. In winter, he traveled on skis, and in summer, he walked barefoot or in bast shoes.

Vitaliy especially loved visiting the Trinity Hermitage on the Suna River, but he preferred solitude above all. When staying in someone’s home, he would retreat to a storeroom to pray quietly with his Psalter. He prayed silently and rarely spoke, leading many to think he was mute.

However, when he did speak, it was always brief and meaningful. For instance, if he overheard someone living or speaking in an impious manner, he would only sigh and say: “That matter is not ours, nor has it come to us. We must only watch when our own matter comes to us.”

In March of 1687, Vitaliy left Mashozero on another journey. Along the way, he encountered some peasants who informed him that they had seen royal troops—500 musketeers with cannons and arms—sent to suppress the defiant Old Believers in the area.

Frightened, the monk fled to the nearest village and hid in the straw of a barn. For eight days and nights, he remained without food or water, too scared to come out. That spring brought severe cold, and Vitaliy’s legs were frostbitten up to his knees.

A peasant named Isaak, the barn’s owner, found the monk, took pity on him, and carried him into his house. He then informed the Old Believers from the Trinity Hermitage, who took Vitaliy into their care. The monk was gravely ill for a long time, his frostbitten toes eventually falling off.

In 1692, Vitaliy, accompanied by a guide, arrived at the Vyg River to the cell of Elder Korniliy, who had been living there for five years. Vitaliy shared his story, and Korniliy, seeing that the monk was crippled and impoverished, welcomed him into his hut.

At the same time, people began flocking to the Vyg, seeking refuge not only from the worldly life but also from the authority of the tsar. Among them was a young man named Andrei Denisov (1674–1730), a descendant of the minor noble family of the Myshetsky princes.

Andrei was an extraordinary man, pious and educated, with remarkable common sense. Later, when the Vyg Hermitage was established, Andrei became its abbot. His outstanding abilities proved invaluable in building the hermitage. Under his leadership, the Vyg Hermitage reached its peak prosperity.

Equally remarkable was Andrei’s younger brother, Semyon Denisov (1682–1740), his indispensable assistant and a famed Old Believer writer. Semyon authored over a hundred works, the most important being The Russian Vineyard and The History of the Solovetsky Fathers and Martyrs, stories about the holy martyrs who suffered for the old faith.

Vitaliy and Korniliy lived together for only two years, adhering to a strict monastic rule. Their diet consisted of finely chopped radish, salted and soaked in kvass, and occasionally fish.

In 1694, Vitaliy fell ill and passed away. Before his death, he left his monastic mantle to Andrei Denisov as a memento.

A year later, Korniliy also departed this life. Before his passing, he called Andrei to his side and said: “Be the judge and leader of the Vyg Hermitage and the entire brotherhood.”

Korniliy was buried next to Vitaliy. Later, gravestones were placed over their graves, covered with black cloth, and a chapel was erected.

Until the mid-19th century, the elders’ cell remained near the chapel on the banks of the Vyg. In the summer, local Old Believers would regularly gather there for prayer. However, during the destruction of the Vyg Hermitage, this sacred site was also obliterated.

Tsar Peter

Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich loved all things foreign. Following the example of European rulers, he established a court theater for entertainment. The sovereign spared no expense on this amusement. The theater pleased him so much that he would spend ten hours at a time watching performances.

Tsar Feodor Alexeevich also admired foreign customs, although he disbanded his father’s theater. He was fluent in Polish and Latin, composing verses in both languages. Feodor’s love for all things Polish extended to his attire, as he even wore Polish clothing, which his courtiers emulated.

Tsar Peter Alexeevich (1672–1725) adored everything European and held little regard for Russian traditions. Once he became the autocratic ruler, Peter began building a new Russia by dismantling the Holy Rus of old. For this reason, Peter I should not only be called the Great Reformer but also the Great Destroyer.

In March 1697, Peter embarked on a European tour with a Russian delegation. Visiting several countries, including Austria, England, and Holland, the delegation returned to Moscow in August 1698.

At this time, Tsarevna Sophia, whom Peter had removed from governing the state, once again stirred unrest within the Streltsy army, just as she had in 1682. She spread the rumor that the real tsar had been replaced during his European travels by a young German imposter. The discontented soldiers believed this, and a new Streltsy rebellion broke out, but it was quickly suppressed by Peter’s supporters.

When Peter returned to Russia, he brutally punished the rebels: many were exiled, tortured, and about two thousand were executed. Peter personally beheaded some of them. He also ordered that Sophia be forced to take monastic vows and imprisoned her in a convent.

Peter disbanded the rebellious army and created a new one modeled after European forces. Instead of Streltsy and Sotniks, there were now soldiers, officers, generals, and marshals, all dressed in European military uniforms and equipped with modern European weapons.

For the wars Peter waged, he needed a great many cannons. However, there was not enough copper for casting them. Thus, the tsar ordered the church bells to be removed and melted down.

Priests and parishioners tearfully parted with their bells, cursing the soldiers who took them, and whispered among themselves: Perhaps it is true, Peter is not the son of Alexei Mikhailovich, not a Russian tsar, but an impostor-German, a servant of the devil, the Antichrist.

Everything Peter did seemed wrong and condemnable to the people, for the sovereign showed no regard for sacred traditions and the teachings of their ancestors.

For instance, under Tsars Mikhail Fedorovich and Alexei Mikhailovich, the sale and smoking of tobacco were strictly forbidden in Russia. The Sobornoye Ulozheniye (1649), the main legal code of the Russian Tsardom, stated: Anyone, whether Russian or foreign, caught possessing or trading tobacco shall be severely punished without mercy, up to and including the death penalty.

However, in 1697, Peter allowed the sale and smoking of tobacco.

In Russia, the New Year was traditionally celebrated on September 1st, a holiday that had been adopted from the Greeks along with Christianity. The Church prescribed that this day be marked with a solemn liturgy, a prayer service, the blessing of water, and a procession with the cross. The Russians had also adopted the Greek calendar, which counted the years “from the Creation of the World.”

But in 1699, Peter issued a decree declaring that January 1st, 7208 “from the Creation of the World” was now to be counted as January 1st, 1700 “from the Nativity of Christ,” and that the new calendar would be used from then on, as was done in European countries. The decree ordered people to celebrate the holiday joyfully, to congratulate one another on the New Year, and to decorate streets and homes with green fir branches.

Since the time of Ivan the Terrible, Russian rulers had been called Tsars and Grand Princes. But in 1721, Peter, following European custom, declared himself Emperor.

However, he did not merely take on a new title; he also assumed powers never before held by tsars. While in England, Peter learned about the English system of church governance, where the king, rather than a supreme bishop, was the head of the Church and had authority over all clergy. Peter liked this system and decided to implement it in Russia.

Thus, when Moscow Patriarch Adrian died in 1700, Peter assumed control of the Church. In 1721, he created the Holy Synod—a special institution that replaced the patriarch and church councils. Consequently, the state Church in Tsarist Russia came to be known as the Synodal Church.

Many of Peter’s reforms aimed to destroy traditional customs. In his blind admiration for Europe, the tsar targeted Russian practices—long beards and traditional clothing.

In 1698, Peter introduced a beard tax, later divided into four categories: courtiers had to pay 600 rubles annually for the right to wear a beard, wealthy merchants paid 100, other merchants paid 60, and townspeople, coachmen, and cab drivers paid 30.

Those who paid the tax were given tokens inscribed with: “Tax for the beard has been paid.” Peasants were exempt from the tax, but upon entering a city, each bearded man had to pay a penny.

Old Believers were subjected to an additional tax. From 1716, they were required to pay double the head tax. Combined with the beard tax, this amounted to a considerable sum! Of course, not all Old Believers could afford to pay, and many refused to do so. The impoverished and defiant were sentenced to hard labor.

In 1700, Peter issued a decree targeting traditional Russian clothing. “Proper” clothing—German-style waistcoats and hats—were displayed at city gates. Soldiers stood guard to enforce the decree, and if anyone wearing a long Russian coat passed through, they were made to kneel, and their coat was cut to the ground’s length.

From then on, tailors were forbidden to sew Russian garments, and merchants were banned from selling them. Old Believers, however, were ordered to continue wearing traditional clothing.

In 1722, Peter decreed that Old Believers must wear special old-fashioned attire with red standing collars—zipuns, feryazes, and odnoradkas. Two years later, an additional decree was issued: the wives of Old Believers and bearded men had to wear opashny and horned caps.

Thus, under Peter I, the old Rus was transformed into a new Russia. Only the Old Believers, persecuted by the authorities, remained faithful to the old Russian faith and way of life. For this loyalty, they paid a high price—not only with special taxes and duties but also with thousands of lives.

Martyrs for the Old Faith (From The Russian Vineyard by Semyon Denisov)

On the Maiden Evdokia

Not only men but also the most honored among women and maidens bravely endured the most severe tortures for their ancestral faith. A certain maiden named Evdokia was brought before the Novgorod court for holding to the ancient piety. At first, she was coaxed with appeals and kindness for a long time. She did not listen, nor did she weaken in the slightest but stood firmly for her faith. For this, she was sentenced to torture.

Immediately, the rack was prepared, and the ropes were passed through. The maiden was stripped and harshly raised on the rack. Her delicate arms broke, her joints cracked, and her sinews tore apart. Wounds multiplied on her young body, and blood flowed, pouring onto the ground. Then, they seared her wounds with hot iron and scorched her flesh with fire.

Oh, the brutal mercilessness of the judges’ hearts! They cruelly inflicted this torment on the holy martyr not once but thrice, torturing the brave sufferer as if she were a criminal, though she had never conceived of any evil… Finally, she was burned in a log cabin by fire.

On the Maidens Akilina and Ksenia

Two more maidens, Akilina and Ksenia, suffered gratefully.

Akilina was a Novgorod merchant of moderate means but deeply committed to the ancient Orthodox faith. When she was captured along with other sufferers and tortured, she endured for a time. But when led to the burning cabin for execution, she began to waver and fear. However, encouraged by her fellow sufferers, she regained her courage.

When they approached the cabin and entered, she attempted to leave three times. But, persuaded by the brave souls within, she returned each time. Finally, through God’s grace and the prayers of the martyrs, she strengthened her resolve, entering the cabin wholeheartedly. She was burned with the other sufferers for the faith, joyfully entering into the heavenly life.

Ksenia was of peasant stock, but she was fervent in piety and filled with the grace of holy zeal. She was captured and brought before the judges. She bore chains and shackles, endured imprisonment, cruel beatings, and agonizing wounds. These torments wore her down until she gave up her spirit in prison.

Bulavin and Nekrasov

It is every person’s duty to protect their land and family from invaders, robbers, and oppressors. But the sacred duty of every Christian is to defend their faith and Church from heretics and godless people. Love for Christ and His Church surpasses love for one’s homeland and kin. For a foreign land can become a new homeland, and strangers can become a new family, but nothing can replace the Orthodox faith and the Orthodox Church. During the reign of Tsar Peter, this was proven by the Nekrasov Cossacks, who left their homeland to preserve their faith.

At the beginning of the 18th century, southern Russia was in turmoil. The banks of the Don and Volga were engulfed in a people’s war led by the Cossack ataman Kondraty Afanasyevich Bulavin. The participants—Russians and Ukrainians, Cossacks and barge haulers, townspeople and peasants—rose up against the officials, voivodes, boyars, moneylenders, and wealthy landowners.

The war began when Colonel Dolgorukov arrived in the Don region from Moscow with a detachment of soldiers. He had been ordered to find runaway serfs and return them to their masters. However, according to ancient custom, all those who found refuge on the Don were considered free people—Cossacks. The arrival of the tsar’s troops angered the Don Cossacks.

Dolgorukov carried out his mission with brutal cruelty, showing no mercy to women, the elderly, or children. Bulavin and his Cossacks took up arms to defend their brothers and sisters. On the night of October 9, 1707, they attacked Dolgorukov’s detachment, killing all the soldiers and Dolgorukov himself.

The uprising was supported by poor Cossacks, landless peasants, and oppressed Old Believers. However, the wealthier Cossacks opposed Bulavin; they did not want to shed blood for the poor and had no desire to quarrel with Moscow. The wealthy conspired and killed the ataman on July 5, 1708. Upon hearing of this, Tsar Peter was so pleased that he ordered thanksgiving services and cannon fire in celebration.

The rebellion was crushed. The tsar’s forces looted and burned many Cossack villages, carrying out terrifying executions: men were quartered and hanged, while women and children were drowned. Tsarist commanders executed around 24,000 people, including many devout priests, deacons, and monks.

Bulavin himself adhered to the old faith, as did most of his comrades—Nikita Golyi, Ignatiy Nekrasov, and Lukyan Khokhlach. Therefore, they called on the people to rise not only against oppressors but also against the “Hellenic faith”—Russian Orthodoxy, which had been altered by Nikon according to Greek models. They urged the people to defend the ancient religious traditions.

Kondraty Bulavin, speaking on behalf of the Don army, addressed the common people: We, the entire army, have united in one mind, to stand with all zeal for the House of the Most Holy Mother of God, for the true Christian faith, for our souls and lives, with the son standing for his father, the brother for his brother, standing together and dying as one.

Nikita Golyi explained to the common folk: We have no quarrel with the commoners. Our quarrel is with the boyars and those who commit injustices. You, the poor, come from all the towns, on foot and on horseback, naked and barefoot. Come without fear! There will be horses, weapons, clothing, and wages for you. We stand for the old faith, for the House of the Most Holy Mother of God, and for you, for all the common people, so that we do not fall into the Hellenic faith.

Although the war for Cossack freedom and the old faith was lost, Bulavin’s cause did not die. It was continued by Ataman Ignatiy Fyodorovich Nekrasov, a devout Christian and courageous warrior.

In September 1708, Nekrasov, along with several thousand Old Believer Cossacks, relocated to the Kuban, which at that time was under the rule of the Muslim Crimean Khan. Here, the ataman sought to fulfill the eternal dreams of the Russian people for a free life without officials, landowners, voivodes, or boyars.

Nekrasov sent emissaries to Russia, urging Cossacks and peasants to settle in the Kuban, where they could live freely under the khan rather than in servitude under the tsar. Many people left their homeland and fled abroad, despite the authorities’ efforts to prevent them.

The freedom-loving people who gathered around Ignatiy Nekrasov came to be known as the Nekrasov Cossacks.

Thus, a Christian community was formed, where the self-governing traditions of the Don army were preserved, and where brotherhood and mutual assistance reigned. The highest authority in this community was the krug—the general assembly. The ataman was elected by the krug for one year. The krug also administered justice according to Nekrasov’s laws, known as the “Covenants of Ignat.” Some of these included:

• Do not obey the tsars, do not return to Russia under the tsars;
• No member of the community may leave without the permission of the krug or ataman;
• One-third of a Cossack’s earnings goes to the military treasury;
• Treason against the army is punishable by execution without trial;
• Intermarriage with non-believers is punishable by death;
• For the murder of a community member, the guilty party is buried alive;
• A husband must treat his wife with respect;
• A husband who abuses his wife is punished by the krug;
• Uphold the old faith;
• Blasphemy is punishable by execution.

Strict adherence to the “Covenants” helped the Nekrasov Cossacks survive in their Muslim surroundings, preserving their Orthodox faith and Russian identity.

Ataman Nekrasov died in 1737. Soon after, Russia began the annexation of the Kuban, which was completed in 1783 under Empress Catherine II. Unwilling to live under the rule of the tsars, the Cossacks gradually left the Kuban and resettled in the region of Dobruja on the shores of the Black Sea. At that time, these lands belonged to Turkey, but today they are divided between Bulgaria and Romania.

However, as Russia’s borders expanded and moved closer to Dobruja, the threat of falling under the tsar’s rule arose again. Many Nekrasov Cossacks then moved to Turkey and settled on the shores of Lake Maynos.

Living as a closed community surrounded by the foreign Turkish environment, the Cossacks held firm—they preserved the Don traditions of self-government, their native language, folk songs and legends, Russian clothing, and the memory of Ataman Nekrasov. His “Covenants” were written down in the “Book of Ignat” and kept in a special chest in the church. The Nekrasov banner was also preserved.

The community had a school where boys were educated. One-third of the Cossacks’ earnings from agriculture, livestock farming, and fishing went toward supporting the school, church, the elderly, the sick, and the military.

The Nekrasov Cossacks remained faithful to the “Covenants of Ignat” and did not return to Russia under the tsars. It was only in the 20th century, after the fall of the monarchy, that they finally returned to their homeland.

New Schism

Christians attend the house of God for prayer. However, in church, believers not only pray; special sacred actions known as sacraments are performed in Orthodox temples.

According to the Church’s teaching, a sacrament is a sacred action established by Christ and His apostles, through which divine grace is transmitted to the faithful in a visible way. The sacraments are the foundation of Christian life, and without them, the salvation of the soul is impossible.

The Orthodox Church recognizes seven sacraments: baptism, chrismation, confession (repentance), communion (Eucharist), marriage, anointing (unction), and ordination (holy orders). The Church teaches that only senior clergy—bishops and priests—can perform these sacraments, with the help of junior clergy—deacons.

The power of the clergy is the authority to perform the sacraments, to spiritually guide believers, and to lead them. This authority is passed down through episcopal ordination. A bishop, with prayer, lays hands on the head of a worthy person, who then receives the grace of the Holy Spirit for sacred service to the Church.

An ordinary Christian, without ordination, cannot perform the sacraments. They cannot hear confessions, serve the Liturgy, or officiate marriages.

The only sacrament that, in extreme cases, can be performed by a layperson is the baptism of a dying person. However, if the person survives, they must be brought to a priest who will complete the baptism with the proper prayers.

Thus, Christian life is unthinkable without ordained clergy. Without them, there would be no sacraments and no Church.

But in the Gospel, the Lord promises us, His believers, that He will be with us always, even to the end of the world. Therefore, Christians are convinced that the Church, the sacraments, and the priesthood will endure until the end of this visible world.

After the schism of the Russian Church, the Old Believers found themselves in a difficult situation. They desperately needed clergy. The priests, who had been ordained by pious bishops before Nikon, were gradually dying out. And there was no bishop in Russia who could ordain new priests for the faithful. Bishop Pavel of Kolomna was martyred in 1656, without leaving a successor.

What was to be done?

By the end of the 17th century, this question led to a new schism within the Russian Church, dividing the Old Believers into two groups: the “priestless” (bespopovtsy) and the “priestly” (popovtsy) factions.

At that time, some Old Believer preachers began to teach that the world was ruled by the Antichrist, that the end of the world and the Last Judgment were near. Initially, they saw the Antichrist in Patriarch Nikon, then in Tsars Alexei Mikhailovich and Peter Alexeyevich, and later in all Russian rulers.

Of course, Peter I most resembled the Antichrist. He sincerely loved everything foreign and disliked everything Russian, especially the ancient traditions of the fathers. He even forbade the wearing of beards and traditional Russian clothing.

Peter openly mocked the Church and its councils, organizing drunken feasts with his close associates, which he blasphemously called the “All-Jesting, All-Drunken Council.” The emperor approved the persecution of the Old Believers and called the fight against them a “holy and apostolic mission.”

Many believers, recognizing Peter as the Antichrist, fled their homes, retreating as far as possible from the devil and his servants—officials and soldiers. They built secluded hermitages deep in the forests, more hidden and severe than ever before, shut themselves away from the world, locked their prayer houses, and even placed locks of tempered iron on their wells.

The state hunted down these fugitives, sending punitive detachments to search for and capture them. Often, in fear of falling into the hands of the soldiers, Old Believers chose voluntary death by fire—self-immolation. From the late 17th to the early 19th century, self-immolations in Russia claimed tens of thousands of lives.

Preachers began teaching that in the kingdom of the Antichrist, God’s grace had dried up, all sanctity had been taken to heaven, the Church had fled into the wilderness, and the priesthood had ceased, along with the sacraments.

Followers of this teaching became known as the “priestless” (bespopovtsy). Deciding to organize their spiritual life without priests (hence their name), they abandoned all sacraments except for baptism, which could be performed by laypeople in cases of necessity.

The priestless created a unique teaching about “contamination” by the external world, which they believed was under the control of the Antichrist. A believer could become contaminated by praying with a heretic, sharing a meal, or even simple interaction.

To avoid contamination, the priestless were careful to “watch their bowl”—avoiding eating from the same dish as nonbelievers, prayed over food bought at markets, and hid their icons to prevent them from being defiled even by the gaze of heretics.

However, as years and decades passed, with new tsars and patriarchs, the anticipated apocalypse did not occur. Over time, the priestless movement splintered into various sects. Within their ranks emerged “spiritual leaders”—laypeople who took on roles such as administering baptism, hearing confession, and officiating marriages.

This contradicted the teachings of the apostles, the traditions of the holy fathers, and church rules. Most Christians could not accept this. They believed that the sacraments required genuine priests. But that left only one source of priesthood for the Old Believers: Nikonian bishops, whom they viewed as heretics.

Once again, the question arose—what was to be done?

Church rules allow for the acceptance of priesthood from heretics, as stated in the canons of the ecumenical councils and the writings of many holy fathers.

During the time of the schism, Protopope Avvakum taught this. He emphasized the necessity of a priest for salvation and called on Old Believers to accept Nikonian priests: “If a priest curses the Nikonians and their service, and loves the ancient ways with all his heart, then, in necessity, let him be a priest. How can the world exist without priests? Go to those churches.”

Saint Avvakum also wrote: “And I think this: if one becomes a priest, but his soul burns for the old ways, then we accept such, in need.”

Thus, guided by ancient rules and new teachings, Old Believers began accepting Nikonian priests into their communities. Those Christians who recognized the full spectrum of church sacraments and could not imagine their spiritual life without the Eucharist, the priesthood, and the sacraments became known as the “priestly” (popovtsy) Old Believers.

Znamenny Chant

Liturgical singing is one of the main treasures of the Orthodox Church.

From ancient times, Christians have placed great importance on the beauty and harmony of liturgical hymns.

It was the singing that astounded Prince Vladimir’s envoys when they visited Constantinople and attended the service at the Hagia Sophia. They were so overwhelmed that they did not know whether they were on earth or in heaven. Were they hearing the ranks of archangels, angels, cherubim, and seraphim standing before the throne of God?

With Orthodox faith, Greek church singing—solemn, measured, and dignified—came to Rus’. Today, it has been preserved in all its centuries-old grandeur only among Old Believers, both priestly and priestless.

Of course, modern Old Believer singing differs somewhat from the ancient Greek chants. However, it has been preserved better among the Old Believers than among the Greeks themselves, who altered their chants under the influence of Turkish and Arabic melodies.

The main feature of ancient Greek and Russian, as well as modern Old Believer, church singing is that it is performed strictly in unison, that is, in a single voice.

In unison, or monophonic singing, all the singers on the kliros — the choir — sing together. No one rushes ahead, and no one lags behind. No one raises or lowers their voice. When you hear such singing, it seems as if one person is singing, not several.

Unison singing in church symbolically reflects the unity of mind among the believers gathered for prayer. It calms minds and hearts burdened by worldly concerns. It helps a person feel like part of the one body of Christ — the one Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church.

Orthodox singing avoids ornamentation and sensuality. The voices of the singers sound simple and natural, free and dispassionate, without strain or fervor. This helps the believer focus on prayer, lifting their soul and feeling the closeness of the Almighty and All-Merciful God.

In ancient times, church singing and reading were mostly performed by men. However, today, with a shortage of male voices, women are also allowed to participate in services. In some parishes, efforts are made to have men sing on one kliros and women on another.

There are several styles of church chant: simple chanting on the tone (glas), Znamenny “stolpovoy” and “putevoy” (pillar and path), Demestvenny chant, and Kondakarian chant, the latter, unfortunately, now completely lost.

Demestvenny chant is particularly distinguished by its solemnity. In ancient times, it was called “krasny,” meaning “beautiful.” This chant appeared in Rus’ in the 15th century and was used only on special occasions—at services attended by the tsar and patriarch or on great church feasts.

Sometimes prayers are sung following a model, imitating other hymns. These are called “podobny” or “on the podoben.” The model hymn is known as a “samopodoben.”

Some prayers are sung according to melodies passed down by ear from generation to generation. These melodies may vary in different communities.

To record liturgical melodies, the Greeks used special signs, unlike modern musical notes. These signs were called “neumes.” In Rus’, they were called “znamena,” or “hooks.” Thus, Russian church singing is called “Znamenny,” or “hook” chant.

Greek neumes and Russian “znamena” differ from regular musical notes not only in appearance but also in meaning. One note represents one sound, while a single neume or “znamen” can represent one sound or several. Variations in sounds are indicated by special marks — signs and small letters next to the “znamena.”

The names of the different types of “znamena” are unusual: “palka” (stick), “stopitsa” (foot), “zmeitsa” (little snake), “kryzh” (cross). Some names are even poetic: “golubchik borzy” (swift little dove), “dva v chelnu” (two in a boat), “strela mrachnaya” (dark arrow), “strela gromosvetlaya” (thunder-lightning arrow).

Since the time of Alexei Mikhailovich and Nikon, the new ritualists gradually abandoned “znamena” and ancient singing. Instead of “znamena,” they began using European notes, and instead of the old chants — new European ones, more lively and emotional.

Moscow was flooded with numerous Ukrainian singers. They brought with them a special chant called the Kiev chant, which imitated Polish and German music.

This singing was also called polyphonic, or “partesnoe” (part singing). The kliros singers no longer sang in unison, but divided into parts, or sections. The lower voices, the basses, sang their part, and the higher voices, the trebles, their own.

By the 18th century, the new-rite singing had completely merged with secular music. Composers emerged, writing both church hymns and music for theater and dance.

At that point, the only requirement for liturgical singing was beauty, though this beauty was understood in a peculiar way. It was defined by excessive complexity, contrived ornamentation, and tearful sentimentality. Composers aimed to write hymns that would make worshipers in church applaud, as they would in a theater.

With such singing, the words of the prayers were distorted or entirely incomprehensible. But this did not bother the new-rite clergy. In their churches, one could even hear music popular in theaters, with the sacred words of psalms and prayers sung to it.

Sometimes the fascination with modern music reached the point of blasphemy. For example, during the singing at the end of a solemn moleben, not only were church bells rung, but drums were beaten, cannons fired, and fireworks set off.

Some landowners would shave the heads of peasant girls, dress them in men’s clothing, and send them to sing on the kliros.

The bad taste nurtured by the new-rite church music could not appreciate the beauty of the ancient chants. The previous slow and dispassionate singing seemed boring and long to the new-ritualists.

In the 19th and 20th centuries, some composers tried to write hymns resembling the Znamenny chant. However, these attempts were unsuccessful. The result was hymns written according to European musical rules, but in which the ancient melody was either lost or distorted.

Excluded from the repertoire of the Synodal Church, Znamenny chant survived only among the Old Believers. They carefully preserved it, despite persecution and oppression.

Listening to Old Believer singing, a modern person embarks on a journey through time. They hear not only the prayers of ancient Rus’, but also the lament of the fallen Constantinople. Through the centuries, the living voices of the singers of the Hagia Sophia reach them.

Vetka and Starodubye

There once lived a devout priest named Kozma in Moscow. He served at the Church of All Saints in Kulishki, located in the White City, and was one of the few priests in the capital who dared to perform the services according to the old ways. Kozma was well-acquainted with Protopope Avvakum and the noblewoman Morozova.

When Protopope Avvakum returned to Moscow from his exile in Siberia, he would offer Holy Communion to his spiritual children in the Church of All Saints and pray there himself. Kozma celebrated the liturgy at the altar, while Avvakum would sing on the kliros.

Kozma’s parishioners were wealthy people, involved in trade and various crafts. They respected the priest for his righteous life. Kozma, in turn, encouraged his congregation to uphold the ancient piety and reject the new rituals.

However, it became increasingly difficult for the Old Believers to live in the capital. There was no place to hide from the Nikonian authorities, so they lived in constant fear of denunciation, imprisonment, torture, and execution. Kozma, after consulting with his spiritual children, decided to leave Moscow and relocate to Starodubye, on the border with Poland.

At that time, the border between Russia and the powerful Polish kingdom was near Smolensk, Bryansk, and Chernigov. The area around the border town of Starodub was called Starodubye, or the Starodub Regiment. One of the regiment’s captains was a friend of Kozma, and it was to him that the group of settlers went.

Around 1678, Kozma left Moscow with twelve families of his most devout parishioners, taking with them the reserved Holy Gifts for Communion. The captain of the Starodub Regiment settled the Moscow refugees in a small town called Ponurovka. In the first year, the Old Believer settlers also established four other towns: Bely Kolodets, Siny Kolodets, Shelomu, and Zamishye.

Following Kozma, another priest, Stefan, from the town of Belev and a friend of Abbot Dosifey, also arrived in Starodubye. He came with his son Dmitry, daughter Martha, and many Christians from the Kaluga and Tula regions. Stefan first settled in Zamishye, and later moved to a town named Mitkovka, after his son.

The number of refugees in Starodubye grew significantly after the defeat of the Streltsy uprising in 1682.

In 1685, the infamous “Twelve Articles” of Tsarevna Sophia were issued, and the Starodub colonel was ordered to apply this cruel law against the Old Believer settlers.

In response, the devout fled from the Russian borders and crossed into Polish territory, just fifteen versts away from their villages. Here, on a deserted island in the middle of the Sozh River, near the town of Gomel, they established their first village, which they named Vetka after the island. The term “Vetka” also came to refer to the lands around this settlement that housed the Old Believer communities.

Today, these lands belong to Belarus, but at the end of the 17th century, they were owned by Polish landowners. These landowners welcomed the influx of sober, peaceful, and hard-working people, giving them vacant lands, setting a fair rent, and not interfering in their religious affairs.

The news that Poland did not persecute the Old Belief attracted even more settlers to Vetka. In a short time, they had settled fourteen large towns, which was remarkable considering that Poland had long been an enemy of Russia. It had seized Russian lands and oppressed the Orthodox population, forcefully imposing Catholicism and the Union. Poles disdainfully referred to Russians as “schismatics” or “heretics.” Yet, on Vetka, Polish landlords did not harm the Russian Old Believers, who were being ruthlessly persecuted by their own Russian authorities.

Kozma and Stefan first lived in the village of Vetka, where a chapel was built, and the priests conducted services. However, soon a disagreement arose between them.

Kozma purchased bells to call people to prayer, but Stefan disapproved. He grumbled:

“We didn’t flee here to show off but to hide from persecution!”

After this, Stefan moved to the village of Karpovka, and Kozma to the village of Kositskaya. Stefan soon passed away, and Kozma died in 1690.

At the beginning of the 18th century, Vetka entered its golden age, becoming the capital of Old Belief for a century. The population of the villages grew to 40,000 people. Numerous monasteries, both male and female, were established.

Monks wrote icons and copied liturgical books, as the Old Believers did not yet have their own printing presses. Nuns wove cloth, embroidered with gold, and made prayer ropes. Laypeople engaged in agriculture and trade.

In 1708, during the invasion of the Swedish king Charles XII, the Old Believers of Vetka and those few remaining in Starodubye gathered and fought against the enemies of Russia. They aided Peter I by attacking Swedish supply wagons and ambushing small groups of soldiers. Several hundred Swedes were killed by the villagers, and the captured prisoners were personally presented to the emperor.

Although Peter did not favor the Old Believers, he appreciated their show of loyalty. He forgave the refugees and granted them the lands in Starodub. The previously abandoned settlements were repopulated in even greater numbers. Peter ordered that the people of Vetka not be disturbed, which contributed to the flourishing of their communities.

However, the wealth of Vetka, with its many villages and monasteries and its splendid churches, aroused the envy of the Russian secular and spiritual authorities. Thousands of serfs fled from Russia to settle there. As a result, the lands bordering Poland became depopulated, landowners lost their dues, Russian generals were short of recruits, and the clergy of the Synodal Church lost parishioners.

In 1735, the infamous “Vetka Expulsion” occurred. Empress Anna Ioannovna , the niece of Peter I, sent troops to Vetka. During Holy Week, five regiments crossed the Polish border and, by force of arms, drove thousands of Old Believers back to Russia. The villages were emptied, the monasteries were burned, and the churches were looted. Many laypeople and monks managed to escape into the surrounding forests.

Soon after, Christians began returning to the ravaged settlements. By 1740, Vetka had once again been repopulated. New villages were established, and the old ones, along with new monasteries, were restored.

Having survived both the Polish kingdom and the Russian Empire, enduring several terrible wars and the catastrophic explosion at nearby Chernobyl , Vetka has persisted to this day, though its brilliant glory and unquestionable greatness now belong to the past.

The Runaway Priesthood

In the 18th and 19th centuries, priests who converted to Old Belief from the Synodal Church were called “runaway priests,” or “fugitive priests.” This was because they fled to the Old Believers from the Nikonians and were often on the run from the tsarist authorities.

The first Old Believer priest to receive ordination from a Nikonian bishop was the hieromonk Ioasaf, a beloved disciple of Job of Lgov.

As a child, Ioasaf followed Job in all his wanderings, moving with him from one monastery to another, including the Lgov Monastery, where Job tonsured Ioasaf.

Job saw the great need for devout priests among Christians, so he sent Ioasaf to his friend, Archbishop Ioasaf of Tver. This archbishop had been ordained by Patriarch Nikon in 1657 and served according to the new rites but secretly sympathized with the Old Believers. At Job’s request, Archbishop Ioasaf ordained Ioasaf the monk using the old service books.

Ioasaf returned to the Lgov Monastery, but in 1674, Job left the monastery and moved to the Don. Ioasaf, on the other hand, went to Poland, to the village of Vylevo, twenty versts from Vetka. Near the village, he built a cell and began living a life of seclusion, prayer, and fasting.

However, the local Old Believers were slow to accept Ioasaf as their spiritual guide. They considered it disgraceful that he had received ordination from a heretic. Some even harassed the meek elder, insulting and slandering him.

Discouraged, Ioasaf went to his spiritual mentor, Abbot Dosifey, who was then living on the Don. With sadness, Ioasaf shared his troubles and asked Dosifey to forbid him from serving if it caused a scandal among the people.

But the abbot recognized the great need for priests. He prayed and cast lots to discern God’s will. The lot fell that Ioasaf should continue serving.

Dosifey blessed Ioasaf and sent him back in peace. After traveling through many Russian and Ukrainian towns and villages, Ioasaf returned to Vetka and settled seven versts from Vylevo.

Eventually, the local people came to recognize the validity of Ioasaf’s priesthood. They invited him to move to the village and serve them. Being a kind and humble man, Ioasaf forgave their earlier rudeness and moved to Vylevo.

Meanwhile, Father Kozma had passed away, and with Easter approaching, the people of Vetka implored Ioasaf to come and lead the holiday service. Ioasaf agreed and soon moved permanently to Vetka.

In Vetka, Ioasaf decided to establish a church and a monastery. He persuaded the Old Believers to begin building a new church with an altar for the regular celebration of the Divine Liturgy.

However, according to church rules, such services required an antimins — a cloth consecrated by a bishop, with a depiction of the three-barred cross and a sewn-in relic of a saint. This symbolized the early Christians’ practice of celebrating the Liturgy on the tombs of martyrs.

Ioasaf had an old antimins, which had been brought to him by the nun Melania, a disciple of Protopope Avvakum and a mentor to the noblewoman Morozova.

Soon, a wooden church was built, and a monastery was established nearby. However, Ioasaf did not live to see the consecration of the church. He died in 1695, having lived in Vetka for five years, and was buried near the church. Twenty-two years later, his body and clothing were found incorrupt and intact.

Ioasaf’s relics were moved into the church, where a shrine was erected. An icon of Ioasaf was painted, and a service was composed in his honor, although both have been lost over time.

Following the example of the venerable Ioasaf, other priests, ordained by Nikonians, followed suit. The lives of these priests resembled those of the apostles.

To serve their many congregations, they had to travel secretly across Russia, visiting communities often located far from one another. Sometimes a priest would perform several weddings, baptize multiple infants, and conduct several funerals in one visit.

The need for clergy among Christians was constant and widespread. While there were millions of Old Believers, there were not even hundreds of Old Believer priests, only dozens. Thousands of devout believers would walk hundreds of versts to confess and receive Communion at churches where Old Believer priests served.

Some, due to the lack of priests, were forced to baptize their children themselves and enter unblessed marriages, receiving only the blessing of their parents. Many had the opportunity, only later in life, often in old age and already with children and grandchildren, to finally find a priest for a proper church wedding, sometimes just before death.

In those times of persecution, Old Believer liturgies resembled the liturgies of the first Christians in the catacombs of pagan Rome. When a priest arrived in a parish, whether in a town or a village, he conducted the service at night, in the home of a devout Old Believer, using a portable antimins and behind closed shutters.

Priests were often captured and severely punished. The fate of a priest who fell into the hands of the authorities was grim. In the first half of the 18th century, a priest could be tortured, sent to a lifetime of hard labor, or imprisoned indefinitely.

One such example is the sentence handed down to Father Yakov Semenov by the Nikonian Archbishop in 1720: “He, the priest, during his time in Moscow, being in schism, acted according to the old printed books. And for this audacity of his, if no state crime pertains to him, he is to be punished and exiled to the Solovetsky Monastery, to a subterranean prison for repentance, where he shall remain until the end of his life.”

In other words, life imprisonment was prescribed simply for serving according to the old service books! Without a doubt, Father Yakov would have faced the underground prison, had he not died during the investigation. And Semenov was but one of thousands of martyrs who perished for the old faith.

The numerous settlements of the priestly Old Believers, their slobodas and villages, monasteries and hermitages, were not only in Vetka and Starodub. They existed throughout Russia — in Guslitsa near Moscow, on the Don, in the Volga region, the Urals, Siberia, and Altai.

In the 18th century, the most famous hermitages were in the forests of Nizhny Novgorod, on the Kergel River . Because of this river, Old Believers were often nicknamed “Kerzhaks,” a term still used colloquially today. During the reign of Empress Catherine II, many monasteries were founded on the Irgiz River , and the famed Rogozhskoye Cemetery in Moscow became a prominent center.

Konday Bukavin’s Appeal
(From a letter to the Kuban Cossacks)

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on us. Amen.

From the young Don Cossack atamans, from Kondraty Afanasyevich Bulavin, and from the entire great Don Host, to the servants of God and seekers of the Lord’s name, the Kuban Cossacks, Ataman Savely Pafomovich, and all the brave atamans, we send greetings and a humble petition.

We beg for your mercy, brave atamans, and we beseech God while informing you that we have sent letters from our host to the Kuban regarding peace between us, that we may live in unity as our ancestors did.

Let it be known to you, brave atamans, about the actions of our previous leaders and their companions. In 1707, they corresponded with the boyars, suggesting that all Russian fugitives be sent away from the Don, back to where they had come from. Following their advice, the boyars sent Prince Yuri Dolgorukov with many high-ranking officials , intending to destroy the Don.

They began to shave beards and mustaches and to change the Christian faith, forcing the hermits who lived in the wilderness for the sake of God’s name to adopt the new Greek faith. As they traveled along the Don and other rivers, the prince and his companions began burning many Cossack villages and brutally beating the old Cossacks, cutting off their lips and noses, and hanging children from trees. They burned all the chapels and holy relics…

Now, our lords and fathers, Savely Pafomovich and all the brave atamans, we make a vow to God to stand for piety, for the House of the Holy Mother of God, for the Holy Catholic Apostolic Church, and for the traditions of the seven Ecumenical Councils, as the saints established the Christian faith in those councils and recorded in the books of our forefathers.

We have pledged our souls to one another, kissed the cross and the Holy Gospel, and vowed to stand united, dying for one another.

The Tara Uprising

Like his father, Tsar Peter Alexeyevich was married twice. His first wife was Evdokia Fyodorovna from the ancient Lopukhin family. In 1690, their son Alexei, heir to the throne, was born.

However, Peter soon grew cold toward his wife. The fiery Peter did not like the quiet Evdokia, and he became bored with her. In 1698, the Tsar ordered her to be tonsured as a nun and confined to a monastery.

In 1703, Peter met the lowborn servant Marta Skavronskaya. She caught the Tsar’s eye, and he brought her close to him. Marta was given the Russian name Catherine, and in 1712, Peter married her. Empress Catherine gave birth to several children, whom Peter adored.

But Peter did not love his son Alexei. The boy grew up in Moscow without his father, surrounded by people devoted to the old ways — priests and monks — who instilled in him a disdain for his father’s reforms.

All the Russian people who longed for a return to the traditions of their ancestors, including the Old Believers, looked hopefully to Alexei. They believed that when he became the sovereign, he would restore the former Moscow kingdom.

Unfortunately, Alexei was never destined to rule. The years of animosity between father and son culminated in 1718, when Peter ordered Alexei to be arrested, tortured, and executed. However, Alexei died in prison before the execution could take place.

The death of the heir raised the question: who would rule Russia after Peter’s death? Would it be Tsarevich Peter, the son of Alexei and grandson of Peter? Or one of Peter and Catherine’s children?

The Tsar didn’t know how to resolve this. Thus, on February 5, 1722, he issued a decree stating that the reigning sovereign could name any successor of their choosing. All Russian subjects were immediately required to swear an oath of allegiance to this unnamed successor.

In early May 1722, the Tsar’s decree reached the town of Tara from Tobolsk, then the capital of Siberia.

Today, Tara is a small town on the banks of the Irtysh River. But back then, it was a Cossack fortress fortified with walls, ramparts, and towers. It stood on an important trade route to China.

Many Old Believers, both with priests and without, lived in and around Tara. Near the town were two large hermitages: one led by Father Sergey, a priest, and another by Ivan Smirnov, a priestless elder.

When the decree arrived in the fortress, rumors began to circulate that the unnamed successor to whom they were being asked to swear allegiance was the Antichrist. Father Sergey came to Tara and urged the people:

— You must not take the oath!

The people supported the hermit. Even the fortress commandant, Glebovsky, found ways to delay the day of the oath.

On May 17, a “contrary letter” — a written protest against the oath — appeared, written by Cossack Peter Baigachev. The letter stated that the people of Tara refused to swear allegiance to an unnamed heir of unknown lineage but would do so if given a named heir of the royal bloodline who upheld the traditions of the Old Orthodox Church. This letter was signed by 228 residents of Tara.

On May 18, in the house of Cossack Colonel Ivan Nemchinov, a disciple of Father Sergey, a large gathering began to discuss the “contrary letter.” Father Sergey’s followers, Baigachev and Cossack Ivan Podusha, read and interpreted the Bible and the writings of the Church Fathers.

The people of Tara already had experience resisting Moscow’s authority. They had previously refused to obey the Tsar’s decrees on shaving beards and wearing German clothing, and nothing had happened to them. Now, the townspeople said:

— Before, we stood firm on the matter of beards and clothes, and no harm came to us. Now we’ll stand firm again. If they want us to swear an oath, let them give us a rightful heir to swear allegiance to.

Finally, May 27 arrived — the day Glebovsky had set for the oath. That morning, crowds of Cossacks and townspeople gathered at the town’s cathedral. The commandant was handed the “contrary letter.” He was taken aback and ordered it to be read aloud. Afterward, only a few swore the oath — some clergy and Glebovsky himself.

Soon after, some Old Believers, including Baigachev, fled from the fortress to Father Sergey’s hermitage. Meanwhile, the townspeople continued to hope for exemption from the oath.

But the Tsar sent a punitive detachment against the rebels — 600 soldiers and mounted Tatars with cannons. The force occupied Tara without resistance on June 14, and interrogations began immediately, leading to a long and brutal investigation.

Colonel Nemchinov, with 70 Cossacks, fortified himself in his own house. The attackers demanded their surrender. The besieged sent Podusha to negotiate, declaring that they refused to take the oath and would blow themselves up if assaulted.

Soldiers surrounded Nemchinov’s house on June 26. Negotiations continued, and many Cossacks wished to leave the siege. They were immediately captured. Twenty men remained with Nemchinov in the house. They set fire to barrels of gunpowder, and the house exploded.

The soldiers pulled the Cossacks from the fire. The most severely injured, including Nemchinov, were interrogated and soon died from their burns. The rest were healed only to be subjected to torturous executions. Nemchinov’s body was quartered.

Podusha, released the day before, barricaded himself in his own house with a dozen Cossacks. They held out in a siege until October, but he, too, eventually fell into the hands of the executioners.

In November, the punitive forces moved against the hermitages of Father Sergey and Ivan Smirnov, where many Old Believers had taken refuge. At Sergey’s hermitage, 170 priestly Old Believers were captured, along with a wealth of handwritten and printed books. Father Sergey was later quartered.

At Ivan Smirnov’s hermitage, the priestless Old Believers chose self-immolation when the soldiers approached.

Baigachev fled but was captured and imprisoned in Tobolsk. Fearing torture and execution, he bribed the soldiers guarding him, and they allowed him to take his own life along the way.

The leaders of the uprising were quartered, broken on the wheel, beheaded, impaled, and hanged. Common men were tortured on the rack and then flogged — receiving 100 lashes of the knout. Women received half as many — 50 lashes. Afterward, they were forced to swear the oath and were sent into lifelong exile.

In total, around 1,000 Christians were executed during the investigation, and many were exiled to hard labor. The Tara region was depopulated for many years.

Indeed, it is no wonder that the laws of the time declared the Old Believers to be “fierce enemies, continually harboring ill will toward the state and the sovereign.”

Varlaam Levin

The audacious rumor that Peter I was not the true tsar but a cunning Antichrist spread across Russia. According to the laws of the time, such beliefs were considered an insult to the imperial majesty and were punishable by death. Among those who lost their heads over talk of the Antichrist was the monk Varlaam.

His secular name was Vasily Andreyevich Levin. He was born around 1681, the son of a landowner. Vasily spent his childhood on his family’s estate near Penza, in the village of Levino.

After learning to read and write, the young noble often engaged in conversations with the local priest, who was a devotee of the old church traditions. The priest himself made the sign of the cross with two fingers and taught Vasily to do the same.

The rumors of the Antichrist reached Levino as well. Vasily, with his fervent imagination, envisioned terrifying scenes of the end times: the reign of Satan, the persecution of Christians, and the tortures and executions to come.

In 1701, at his father’s command, Vasily joined the army. But he served reluctantly, and his regiment was stationed in Little Russia. After ten years, Levin was promoted to captain.

The thoughts of serving the Antichrist weighed heavily on Vasily’s conscience. He grew melancholy, sad, and eventually suffered from a mental breakdown, accompanied by epileptic seizures.

In 1715, while stationed with his regiment in the town of Nizhyn, Vasily conceived the idea of becoming a monk and fleeing far from the Antichrist. He requested permission from his general to leave the service and enter a monastery.

The general refused, for under Peter’s orders, soldiers and officers were forbidden from becoming monks. Disheartened, Levin went to church to attend a liturgy.

At the time, Metropolitan Stefan (Yavorsky), a well-known figure in the Synodal Church and a fierce opponent of the Old Believers, had arrived in Nizhyn from St. Petersburg. It so happened that Vasily attended the very church where the metropolitan was serving.

During the liturgy, the captain wept bitterly, attracting Stefan’s attention. After the service, the metropolitan invited Vasily to speak with him.

Levin shared his story with Stefan, recounting his time in the army, his illness, and his desire to become a monk, as well as his general’s refusal. Stefan advised him:

— They will not let you go. You are to be sent to St. Petersburg for evaluation. When you arrive, come straight to me before going to anyone else.

Four years later, Vasily’s seizures worsened, and his general sent him to St. Petersburg for medical examination.

Vasily was declared unfit for military service. He went to Stefan, who gave him a letter of permission for tonsure, addressed to the abbot of the Solovetsky Monastery.

However, Vasily did not travel to the distant monastery. Instead, he remained in the new capital.

Here, Levin met the spiritual father of Prince Menshikov, a priest named Nikifor Lebedka. This priest was a convinced, though secret, Old Believer. Vasily became his spiritual child.

One day, during confession, Vasily said to Nikifor:

— I cannot serve. The sovereign is cruel. And I recognize him as the Antichrist.

— Peter is the Antichrist. When I marry off my daughter, I will leave my wife and go to a monastery, — the priest replied.

Meanwhile, terrifying rumors spread through St. Petersburg. It was said that ships had arrived from overseas bearing the mark — the seal of the Antichrist. Everyone would be branded, and only those who accepted the mark would be given bread. The rest would starve.

Frightened, Levin left the capital and returned to his family estate, where his elder brother Gerasim lived. However, Vasily found no sympathy from his brother, who dismissed the rumors about Peter.

Back home, the retired captain began to preach his views. One day in December 1721, during a church service, he shouted to the congregation:

— Listen, Orthodox Christians! Hear me! The end of the world is near!

The priest rebuked Vasily:

— Why do you say such things? I will have your own peasants take you away.

But Levin persisted, shouting at the priest:

— They will shave your beards! You will be smoking tobacco! You’ll have two wives, three wives, however many you want!

Vasily’s behavior frightened his family, and they urged him to enter a monastery as soon as possible.

At the beginning of 1722, Vasily finally took monastic vows in a small monastery near Penza and was named Varlaam. However, his seizures continued. After one particularly severe episode, the monk decided to go to Penza and preach about the Antichrist.

Varlaam appeared in the town on market day. He climbed onto the flat roof of one of the meat stalls and shouted:

— Listen, Christians, listen! I served in the army for many years. My name is Levin. I lived in St. Petersburg. Peter Alexeyevich is not the tsar but the Antichrist. He will brand all men and women with his mark. Only those who bear the mark will receive bread. Those without the mark will be denied it. Fear these marks, Orthodox people. Flee, hide somewhere. The end is near! The Antichrist has come!

The crowd, terrified, scattered. This happened on March 19, 1722.

Varlaam returned to the monastery, but not for long. Soon after, soldiers came for him. The monk was arrested, taken to Penza, shackled in chains, and sent to Moscow. There, he faced harsh interrogations and brutal torture — the rack and the knout. But Varlaam held firm.

However, during the interrogations, he implicated dozens of others, including the influential Metropolitan Stefan and his own brother Gerasim. The monk did this deliberately, hoping that more people would suffer and receive martyrdom alongside him at the hands of the Antichrist.

Everyone whom the monk implicated was questioned. Most were acquitted, but some, like Nikifor Lebedka, were executed, accused only of honoring the holy faith of their ancestors.

When Varlaam realized he couldn’t escape execution, he grew frightened and began to recant his statements. He changed his testimony multiple times, at one point claiming to be an Old Believer and at another agreeing to be signed with three fingers.

In the end, the monk surrendered and asked for forgiveness from the emperor. But this did not save Varlaam. He was beheaded in Moscow’s Bolotnaya Square on July 26, 1722. Before the execution, his tongue was cut out.

Varlaam’s head was taken to Penza and placed on a stone pillar in the marketplace, where the monk had once tried to preach. His body was burned.

The Vyg Hermitage

The hermitage founded in 1694 on the Vyg River with the blessing of Elder Korniliy holds a special place in the history of the Old Believers.

The first inhabitants of the Vyg Hermitage were actively engaged in spreading the doctrine of priestless Old Belief (bеспоповство), traveling throughout the Pomorye region, teaching:

— These present times are the times of the Antichrist! The Antichrist sits godlike on the throne within the Church.

As a result, word of the new settlement spread along the shores of the White Sea. Peasants, townsfolk, and even inhabitants from far-off places like Moscow and the Volga region began to relocate to Vyg.

Within just a few years, amid forests and swamps, a thriving hermitage emerged, with a well-organized economy: vast fields were plowed, vegetable gardens were tended, livestock was raised, and various industries—such as marine mammal hunting, small-scale manufacturing, and trade—were established.

The daily life of the Vyg inhabitants was governed by a strict monastic rule, modeled after the Solovetsky Monastery.

Initially, men and women lived together. However, in 1706, a separate women’s hermitage was built on the Leksa River, a tributary of the Vyg. The first abbess of this new convent was Solomoniya, the sister of Andrey and Semyon Denisov.

Andrey Denisov, who became the head of the Vyg Hermitage in 1702, was careful to maintain good relations with the authorities, which helped him advance the hermitage’s affairs in both Moscow and Saint Petersburg.

Denisov established connections with Tsar Peter I’s favorite, Prince Aleksandr Danilovich Menshikov, who was appeased with generous gifts. In September 1704, Menshikov signed a decree officially recognizing the right of the Vyg Old Believers to pray according to the old books. However, at the same time, they were required to submit to the administration of the Olonets mining factories.

These factories produced cast iron, steel, and copper, and manufactured weapons, including cannons, for the Russian army. The Old Believers were entrusted with the task of locating ores for the factories, a duty they performed successfully. For this reason, the factory administration held the Vyg community in high regard and protected them from harm.

Wishing to secure the favor of the highest authorities, the Old Believers presented gifts not only to Menshikov but also to the emperor himself, even though they considered him the Antichrist and did not pray for him. When Peter visited the Olonets factories, Andrey Denisov would send messengers to him with letters and tokens of goodwill.

The fall of Menshikov in 1727 deprived the Vyg Hermitage of a significant protector. Their relatively peaceful existence began to be overshadowed by frequent conflicts with both spiritual and secular authorities.

In 1738, following the denunciation by a former Old Believer, Ivan Krugly, another investigation of the hermitage was launched. Officials arrived at Vyg and accused the priestless Old Believers of not praying for the imperial authority.

The Old Believers were perplexed and unsure how to respond. Some were already preparing for self-immolation, but the more sensible brethren argued that there was no cause for such drastic action. Reason prevailed, and the priestless Old Believers agreed to pray for the tsars and tsarinas, whom they had previously called Antichrists.

In the second half of the 18th century, the Vyg Hermitage flourished. It had chapels, almshouses, granaries, various workshops, a pier, a tannery, and a copper-smelting factory where copper icons were cast. The nuns in the women’s hermitage engaged in spinning, weaving, and embroidering with gold and silver threads.

At the same time, there was a revival of spiritual life across Russia. Large priestless communities emerged in Moscow and Saint Petersburg, asserting their claims to leadership. Vyg, which had become dependent on wealthy merchants from the capital, found it increasingly difficult to maintain its dominance.

At the turn of the 18th and 19th centuries, a significant change occurred in the theology of the priestless Old Believers, comparable to the acceptance of prayer for the tsar — Pomorye accepted the doctrine of marriage.

The founders of the Vyg Hermitage had strictly adhered to the priestless doctrine of the advent of the Antichrist and the impending end of the world, which rendered family life unnecessary. The hermitage was established on strict monastic rules: all who came to Vyg took a vow of celibacy.

However, as the years passed and the prophesied end of the world did not arrive, absolute celibacy failed to take root in Pomorye, and the Old Believers began to form families, despite opposition from the abbots and mentors.

In 1762, Ivan Alekseyev, a priestless Old Believer, wrote an extensive treatise titled On the Sacrament of Marriage, in which he argued that marriage is not a church sacrament but rather a Christian folk custom.

Alekseyev’s teaching was supported and developed by Vasily Yemelyanov, a priestless mentor from Moscow. He believed that the power of marriage lay not in the wedding ceremony and prayers of a priest but in the mutual consent and promise of the bride and groom, declared before witnesses. Such a marriage could be blessed by a layman.

Yemelyanov was the first to independently officiate priestless marriages. In 1803, the Moscow mentor Gavriil Skachkov composed a special wedding rite with a solemn prayer service.

The new doctrine gained many adherents, prompting Yemelyanov to travel to Pomorye to seek support from the inhabitants of the Vyg Hermitage. At first, they refused to recognize the marriage doctrine and pressured the mentor to renounce it. However, in 1795, the inhabitants of Vyg relented and began to acknowledge marriages blessed by laypeople.

Today, Old Believers who recognize marriages performed without a priest form a distinct branch of the priestless movement known as the marital Pomorian concord.

The new teaching on marriage marked a departure from the previous doctrine of an imminent end of the world. From then on, the priestless preaching about the Antichrist and the last days sounded unconvincing and artificial.

However, the end times did arrive for the Vyg Hermitage itself.

In 1835, the authorities prohibited young people from living in the hermitage, removed the bells from the bell towers, and forbade the repair of old chapels and the construction of new ones. In 1843, Nikonian peasants were resettled on the Vyg lands.

In 1854, the authorities began demolishing the old structures—the fence, bell towers, and cemetery chapel. The following year, all the Old Believers were expelled from the hermitage, leaving only a few elderly, sick residents in the almshouses.

In 1856, the chapels of Vyg and Leksa, along with all their rich furnishings, were confiscated from the remaining few Old Believers and converted into parish churches of the Synodal Church.

Thus, after a century and a half of existence, the renowned Vyg Hermitage fell.

Feodosiy Vasilyev

At the turn of the 17th–18th centuries, various preachers across Russia independently taught about the advent of the last days, the reign of the Antichrist, and the cessation of all church sacraments. In the regions around Veliky Novgorod and Pskov, this doctrine was preached by Feodosiy Vasilyev (1661–1711), the founder of one of the branches of priestless Old Believers — the Feodoseevtsy (Feodosian) concord.

Feodosiy came from a noble Moscow family, the Usovs, or Urusovs. His grandfather, Yevstraty, impoverished during the Time of Troubles and having lost all his relatives, moved from the capital to the village of Morozovichi near Veliky Novgorod. Feodosiy’s father, Vasily, served as a priest in the settlement of Krestetsky Yam .

After Vasily’s death, the parishioners petitioned the Novgorod Metropolitan Korniliy to ordain Feodosiy as a priest in his father’s place. However, Feodosiy was too young, and the metropolitan only ordained him as a deacon.

The young cleric initially showed himself to be a fervent supporter of church reforms and a persecutor of the Old Believers. However, under the influence of certain preachers, the deacon changed his views on Old Belief.

A zealous follower of Nikon’s reforms, Feodosiy Vasilyev became an equally zealous Old Believer. In 1690, he renounced his deaconship and, following the priestless doctrine, was re-baptized. Along with Feodosiy, his brothers, wife, son Yevstraty, and young daughter were also re-baptized.

Feodosiy and his family left the settlement and moved to a secluded location. There, he devoted himself to the diligent study of church books. His wife and daughter died in this period, and after burying them, Vasilyev fully dedicated himself to preaching the priestless doctrine. He traveled throughout the Novgorod and Pskov regions and even ventured into the lands of Latvia and Estonia, which at the time were divided between Poland and Sweden.

In 1694, already recognized as a preacher and teacher, Feodosiy participated in a council held in Veliky Novgorod. The council reaffirmed the necessity of re-baptizing all who wished to join the priestless Old Believers and required all adherents to lead a celibate life.

In 1697, the new Novgorod Metropolitan Iov, a persecutor of the Old Believers, ordered Feodosiy’s arrest. As a result, in 1699, Feodosiy and his followers were forced to flee to Poland. There, near the town of Nevel , two Old Believer monasteries were established according to a strict monastic rule: one for men, housing up to 600 people, and another for women, with up to 700 inhabitants.

Despite the persecution, Feodosiy frequently traveled back to Russia to preach among the townspeople and villagers. During these journeys, he met some of Peter I’s associates, including Alexander Danilovich Menshikov and other high-ranking courtiers.

In 1703, Feodosiy visited the Vyg Hermitage to engage in discussions with the priestless Old Believers there. These talks revealed certain differences in the teachings of the Feodoseevtsy and the Pomorian Old Believers.

For instance, one disagreement between the Feodoseevtsy and the Pomorians concerned the inscription on the titulus — the plaque placed above Christ’s cross. Feodosiy and his followers venerated the cross with the Gospel inscription: “Iсусъ Назарянинъ, царь iюдейскiи” (“Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews”). Meanwhile, in Pomorye, they prayed before a cross inscribed with: “Iсусъ Христосъ, царь славы” (“Jesus Christ, King of Glory”), and they called the Feodoseevtsy’s inscription a Latin heresy.

Feodosiy’s first trip was peaceful, but by 1706, when he and his followers returned to Pomorye for further discussions on the titulus, the negotiations were far from amicable.

One Pomorian, Leontiy, pounded the table with his fists and shouted at the Feodoseevtsy:

“We don’t need your Jesus of Nazareth!”

Offended, Feodosiy left the Vyg Hermitage. In front of the entire community, he threw down the provisions they had given him for the journey and theatrically shook the dust from his feet. From then on, the Feodoseevtsy decided to maintain separation from the Pomorians in both prayer and communal meals.

In 1708, Feodosiy received permission from Menshikov to return to his homeland. Alexander Danilovich allowed the Old Believers to settle on his lands in the Pskov region. However, crop failures and disease decimated almost the entire community at the new settlement.

Thus, in 1710, the Old Believers received permission from Menshikov to relocate to another place — the Ryapina estate near the town of Yuryev. In May 1711, Feodosiy and his son set off for Veliky Novgorod to obtain a written permit for the ownership of the estate. However, while in Novgorod, Feodosiy was captured and handed over to Metropolitan Iov, who imprisoned him.

In the dark and damp dungeon, Feodosiy Vasilyev passed away on July 18, 1711. The metropolitan’s servants took the preacher’s body to a field and buried it. However, one of Feodosiy’s followers, Vasily Kononov, secretly observed where the burial took place. On the third night, he exhumed the remains, transported them far from the city, and reburied them by a small river.

But the Feodoseevtsy wanted to lay their revered teacher to rest at Ryapina estate. Thus, Vasily Kononov, along with another follower, traveled to Veliky Novgorod. On the Feast of the Sign of the Blessed Virgin, November 27, 1711, they unearthed Feodosiy’s remains again and transported them to the estate.

There, on the banks of the River Vybovka, the Feodoseevtsy solemnly buried their teacher with prayers and psalms. They planted a slender birch tree on the grave. Thus, the Old Believer community’s life at the new location began on a somber note.

The fertile land allowed the community to prosper quickly through farming and fishing. A mill and a blacksmith shop were built on the estate, and bells were acquired for the chapel. Local Estonians worked as hired laborers for the monastery’s enterprises.

However, the prosperity of the community was short-lived. After a false report from a soldier named Peter Tyukhov, claiming that runaway military servicemen were hiding there, an armed detachment was dispatched to the estate. Upon being warned of the approaching authorities, the residents scattered.

Although the accusation was unfounded, by 1722, the authorities had completely destroyed the community. The bells, books, and icons were handed over to a Nikonian church in Yuryev, and the chapel was converted into an Estonian church. The Old Believer community was left in ruins.

Nevertheless, Ryapina estate had served its purpose — from there, the teachings of Feodosiy Vasilyev spread not only across Russia but also into the lands of present-day Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, Belarus, and Poland.

A hundred years ago, the celibate Feodoseevtsy concord was one of the most numerous branches within the priestless Old Believers. However, today, most of the Feodoseevtsy communities have joined the marriage-allowing Pomorian concord.

The Filippov Concord

The Filippov Concord, which separated from the Pomorians, is closely related to the Feodoseev Concord in terms of its doctrine. This concord was founded by the monk Filipp (1674–1742), from whom it took its name.

At the beginning of the 18th century, Fotiy Vasilyev, a musketeer, left the Tsar’s service and moved to the Vygo Monastery. There, he took monastic vows and the name Filipp.

The first abbot of the Vygo Hermitage was Daniil Vikulin (1653–1733), one of its founders. In 1702, he retired, and Andrei Denisov became the new abbot. However, Daniil retained his duties as a spiritual guide. As a layman, he performed baptisms, rebaptisms, confessions, and conducted prayer services and burials.

In 1730, Andrei Denisov passed away unexpectedly. Filipp aspired to take his place, but the community elected Semen Denisov as the new abbot. Three years later, Daniil Vikulin died, and Filipp became the spiritual leader of the monastery.

Disagreements soon arose between Semen and Filipp. The monk wanted Denisov to consult him on all matters, which led the Vygo community to accuse Filipp of ambition.

In October 1737, a council was convened to address the discord between the abbot and the spiritual leader. The council exonerated Semen and condemned Filipp. Offended, the monk left the male monastery and moved to the women’s hermitage on the river Leksa.

The following year, the Pomorians were forced to begin praying for the Tsar’s authority. Such prayers also resounded in the chapels on the Leksa, and Filipp objected to this. Arguments erupted between the monk and the nuns during services, and Filipp, angered, struck his opponents with his prayer rope.

On the Feast of the Exaltation of the Cross of the Lord, September 14, the monk could not bear it any longer. During the prayer service, he threw down the censer and ran out of the chapel, shouting, “The Christian faith has fallen!”

Leaving the monastery with his disciples, Filipp founded his own hermitage 30 versts away from the Vygo Hermitage, on the river Umba, which flows into the Leksa. Life in the new hermitage was difficult, marked by hunger and scarcity. The surrounding area was filled with forests, swamps, rocks, and moss. There was no fertile land nearby, so bread was always in short supply. Grain was purchased from the Vygo Hermitage, ground by hand, and mixed with crushed straw and pine bark.

Followers began to gather around Filipp — priestless Old Believers dissatisfied with the Vygo community’s submission to the Antichrist and prayers for him. Thus, a new branch of the priestless Old Believers emerged — the Filippov Concord.

At this time, the Vygo Hermitage was under investigation following a denunciation by Ivan Krugly. Government officials and investigators occupied the monastery. In October 1742, a new report was submitted: Elder Filipp and his followers were hiding from the authorities on the Umba.

An official, to whom the report was delivered, offered the priestless community a chance to hush up the matter for a bribe of five rubles. The Vygo monks informed Filipp, but he refused to pay. The report then gained public attention.

Investigators began inquiring about Filipp: “Who is he? How far does he live? How many people are with him?”

The Vygo monks denied everything: “We don’t know him, where he lives, whether it’s far or near. And we don’t know how many live with him. We haven’t been to him and don’t know the way.”

The investigators grew angry: “Is a place 30 versts away that distant, and you don’t know the road? Don’t worry, we’ll make you show us by force.”

Immediately, four soldiers, two officers, and two officials were dispatched to find Filipp’s hermitage. They were accompanied by a guide and ten local peasants.

A certain Vygo monk named Vasily, learning of the detachment’s departure, hurried to warn Filipp of the soldiers’ arrival. Upon receiving the news, Filipp instructed his followers to prepare for self-immolation.

The Filippovites locked the gates of the hermitage tightly, filled the well with logs and wood, and piled straw, resin, and birch bark inside the chapel.

Everyone — men, women, the elderly, and the young — gathered inside the chapel, locking the doors and blocking the windows with logs, leaving only a small window open. They waited for the soldiers to arrive.

After several days, the detachment reached the hermitage. The officers knocked on the gate. From the chapel, someone asked through the small window, “Who’s knocking?”

The visitors replied, “Guests have come for you. Open the gates!”

There was silence in the chapel. The officers then ordered the gates and doors to be broken down to capture the Old Believers alive.

As the doors were being hacked down with axes, the old women cried out, “Father, Father, they’re already breaking into the chapel!”

Someone said, “Bless us, Father, to light the fire!”

The dreadful words were repeated three times. Finally, Filipp responded, “God bless you, children!”

At once, the chapel was engulfed in flames. Amid the fire, the cries of the women could be heard, along with the monk’s final words, “Do not weep!”

A strong wind arose, blowing sparks and burning debris from the roof onto the soldiers and peasants, forcing them to retreat. They attempted to extinguish the flames, but the well was clogged.

Thus, Elder Filipp perished along with 70 Old Believers on October 14, 1742.

The fiery death of Filipp became an example for other followers of the Filippov Concord. Many of them followed their leader, preferring death by fire to life in the kingdom of the Antichrist.

The rejection of imperial authority was a foundational principle of the Filippov Concord’s doctrine. Later, other characteristics were added. The Filippovites did not recognize marriage or family life and strove to imitate monastic life in every way, for example, by refraining from eating meat.

This strict doctrine attracted many followers across Russia. The most significant Filippovite communities were in St. Petersburg, Uglich, and Kimry. Moscow had two Filippovite prayer houses — one in the Taganka district and another in the Balchug area.

In the Taganka district, on Durnoi Pereulok, was the so-called Brotherhood Court. For the Filippovites, it held the same importance as Rogozhskoye Cemetery for the Popovites or Preobrazhenskoye Cemetery for the Feodoseevites.

The Brotherhood Court was founded in the 1780s by settlers from Kimry. In 1789, a wooden prayer house was built, later replaced by a stone one. Also located in the Brotherhood Court were two almshouses, a garden, and two workshops that produced painted and cast icons.

In the early 20th century, a small bell tower was added to the prayer house. It was demolished by the Bolsheviks in 1926. In 1933, the Soviet authorities closed the prayer house. The old, low-slung building, with its thick walls and iron-barred windows, was only demolished in 1982.

The fate of the Brotherhood Court was shared by the rest of the Filippovite communities. By the 20th century, most of them had disappeared. Today, there are almost no Filippovites left.

On Feodor Tokmachev
(from the “Russian Vineyard” by Semyon Denisov)

I will not omit the mention of the memorable man and patient sufferer, Feodor, known as Tokmachev, who came from a noble family in the Poshekhon village. For the sake of ancient church Orthodoxy, he abandoned his homeland and noble rank and wandered zealously through the Nizhny Novgorod wilderness.

He was a learned man, a lover of holy writings, from which he gathered a wealth of wisdom. In all things, he was a reasonable man, offering wise and remarkable words filled with great spiritual benefit…

However, this wise man was slandered, brought before archbishops in the capital city, and subjected to questioning in the ecclesiastical courts. Archbishops, judges, and noblemen all urged him to submit to the councils of Nikon, to join the new books, and to make the sign of the cross with three fingers.

To these questions, the wise man gave the following reasoned answer:
“I think that if I make the sign of the cross with three fingers, the heavens will strike me with terrible thunder, the air will shake with dreadful whirlwinds, the earth will open up and swallow me alive as a daring criminal and cursed man.”

The enemies of ancient Orthodox truth could not bear these righteous words. Overcome with savage rage, they subjected him to the cruelest bloodshed and wounds. They did not spare his noble birth, nor were they shamed by the man’s wisdom.

Yet this wise man, enduring such suffering and wounds, showed no sign of cowardice or weakness. As a true man, he bore all things bravely: hanging on the rack, the breaking of his joints, the tearing of his flesh, and the shedding of his blood. He endured all with gratitude, courage, and patience, being ready not only to offer his body to wounds for the sake of piety but also to give his soul for the ancient Orthodox faith.

Seeing that neither their persuasion nor their tortures could defeat the man, the ecclesiastical judges condemned the wondrous sufferer to death by burning. He was placed in a cabin specially prepared and covered with straw and kindling. The glorious man was brought there, the cabin was set on fire, and there he was mercilessly burned.

Feodosiy of Vetka

After the martyrdom of Saint Pavel of Kolomna, the Church was temporarily left without episcopal leadership. The highest spiritual authority passed to pious priests, learned monks, and virtuous laypeople. One of the wise steersmen, who skillfully guided the Church’s ship during those turbulent times, was the hieromonk Feodosiy.

He was ordained by Patriarch Iosif, the predecessor of Nikon, and served at the Church of Basil the Great in the Nikolsky Monastery of the town of Rylsk . At the beginning of the schism, unwilling to serve according to the new rites, Feodosiy left the monastery and settled in a wilderness by the Seversky Donets River.

Among the Cossacks, the elder was held in great esteem. Everyone listened to him and revered him for his kindness and wisdom. Many considered Feodosiy their spiritual father.

Before long, the elder was captured and brought before the local bishop, who tried to persuade Feodosiy to accept the reforms. After unsuccessful attempts, the elder was sent to Moscow to stand trial before Patriarch Ioakim. However, the patriarch also failed to force the hieromonk to accept the innovations.

Feodosiy was then handed over to secular authorities, who subjected him to torture and beatings after failing to sway him with words. But the righteous man did not waver. For his steadfast adherence to the faith, Feodosiy was imprisoned in the Kirillo-Belozersky Monastery .

He remained in the dungeon for seven years. Pretending to have reconciled with the Nikonians, Feodosiy gained some freedom and immediately fled to Pomorye, and from there to Kerezhentsy. In 1690, he first settled in a hermitage by the Belbazh River and later in the Smolyan Hermitage.

At the Smolyan Hermitage, there were reserve Eucharistic Gifts for Communion. Christians from all over Russia would come to receive these holy Gifts. Using this opportunity, Feodosiy convened large church councils in Kerezhentsy to uphold Orthodoxy.

One of his faithful disciples and tireless assistants was Feodor Yakovlevich Tokmachev, a nobleman from Poshekhonye . However, Feodosiy and Feodor’s activities drew the attention of the authorities. In 1694, investigations began in Kerezhentsy. Tokmachev was captured and executed—burned in Nizhny Novgorod.

Feodosiy was forced to flee to Kaluga. There, the hieromonk found an abandoned Church of the Protection of the Theotokos. Due to its dilapidation, services had not been held there for many years, but the church had not been desecrated. It still retained an iconostasis from the time of Ivan the Terrible.

On Holy Thursday in 1695, Feodosiy celebrated the Divine Liturgy in this temple and consecrated a sufficient quantity of reserve Eucharistic Gifts. Their sanctity was unquestionable to all, for they had been consecrated in a pre-Nikonian church by a priest ordained before Nikon, following pre-Nikonian rites! Even the priestless Old Believers asked Feodosiy for Communion of the Body and Blood of Christ.

However, it was dangerous for the elder to remain in Russia with the Holy Gifts. Around this time, Venerable Ioasaf of Vetka passed away, and the Christians of Vetka sent the monk Nifont with a letter inviting Feodosiy to join them. In 1695, the hieromonk crossed the border and arrived at Vetka.

By that time, the population of the local settlements had grown significantly. The church that Ioasaf had begun building was too small to accommodate all the worshippers. Seeing this, Feodosiy ordered the church to be expanded in length and width and adorned with an ancient iconostasis, which had been transported from the abandoned temple in Kaluga. At the elder’s request, the Kaluga Old Believers sent the iconostasis to Vetka.

Recognizing the Church’s dire need for clergy, Father Feodosiy convened a council at Vetka, comprised of monks and laypeople. This council made a crucial decision for the future of the Church. It resolved to accept the ordination of clergy from the Nikonians. This decision saved the Church from being forced into a priestless existence.

The council decreed that clerics, monks, and laypeople from the new rite could be accepted into the Old Believers through confession, renunciation of heresy, and the sacrament of Chrismation. The Church follows this practice to this day.

However, to perform the sacrament of Chrismation, consecrated chrism was required—a fragrant mixture of olive oil, white wine, and aromatic herbs, symbolizing the grace of the Holy Spirit. Only a bishop, whom the Old Believers lacked, could prepare and consecrate the chrism.

The pre-Nikonian chrism was running out, and there was no place to obtain more. Therefore, following an ancient church rule, Feodosiy diluted the remaining old chrism with oil.

It was likely at this time that a rite of renunciation of heresy was composed for the Nikonians. Those converting to Old Belief would curse various innovations, such as the three-fingered sign of the cross, veneration of the four-pointed Latin cross, and the shaving and trimming of beards and mustaches.

The first clergymen received into the Church through Chrismation were Father Alexander of Rylsk, Feodosiy’s brother, and Father Grigory of Moscow.

Together with them, in the fall of 1695, Feodosiy consecrated the expanded Church of the Protection of the Most Holy Theotokos. Thus, the first Old Believer church was established, where the Divine Liturgy was celebrated daily, sacraments were performed, and prayers were offered for the whole world.

From Vetka, reserve Eucharistic Gifts and chrism were sent throughout the Old Believer communities. Pilgrims flocked to Vetka in large numbers. Pious Christians generously donated to the Vetka monasteries and churches, offering bells, printed and handwritten books, priestly and deaconal vestments, icons in precious frames, and oil lamps.

Feodosiy passed away in old age in 1711. The Old Believers, mourning their beloved pastor, buried him by the altar of the Protection Church. Soon, people began to venerate him as a saint. A chapel was built over the elder’s grave, where people gathered for prayer.

In 1735, during the “Vetka Expulsion,” General Johann Weisbach, the commander of Little Russia, sent troops into the settlements. The faithful tried to save the relics of Venerable Fathers Ioasaf and Feodosiy. The latter’s body was found to be incorrupt.

However, the soldiers arrived before the Old Believers could act. They opened the tombs, examined the holy relics, placed them in new coffins, and sealed them with the military seal. By royal decree, the bodies of the saints were secretly burned by General Alexei Shakhovskoy on April 15, 1736.

Almighty God punished the impious persecutors of Christians. Weisbach died suddenly on August 24, 1735. Shakhovskoy passed away unexpectedly on May 27, 1736, from a severe fever.

Lavrenty of Vetka

At the beginning of the 16th century, in the town of Kaluga, the holy fool Lavrenty performed acts of asceticism. According to tradition, he came from the noble family of the Khitrovo. An extraordinary man, Lavrenty lived mostly in the house of the local prince, Semyon Ivanovich. For his spiritual exercises, he would retreat to a secluded place atop a hill, where there stood a church and a small hut. Whether in summer or winter, the holy fool walked barefoot, wearing only a shirt and a sheepskin coat.

Later, a monastery was built at the place of Lavrenty’s ascetic struggle. In the early 18th century, the abbot of this monastery was Archimandrite Karion, a zealot of the true faith and ancient piety. He vehemently opposed the introduction of new rites in Kaluga, serving according to the old-printed books himself and not forbidding the local priests to do the same.

In the days of Hieromonk Feodosiy from Kaluga, a young man arrived at Vetka, probably a spiritual son and disciple of Karion. The young man was a relative of Blessed Lavrenty of Kaluga, perhaps a descendant of the Khitrovo family.

His secular name is unknown to us, but upon taking monastic vows at Vetka, he adopted the name Lavrenty in memory of his holy relative.

Monk Lavrenty spent many years in obedience at the Protection Monastery, which had been founded by Venerable Ioasaf at the Vetka church. Later, he left this monastery and established his own, dedicated to the Entry of the Most Holy Theotokos into the Temple. By the time of the “Vetka Expulsion,” Lavrenty had taken the schema—the highest degree of monasticism, the great angelic image.

In 1735, the elder avoided exile to Russia and, along with a few monks from the ravaged monasteries, retreated deep into the impenetrable wilderness by the fast-flowing Uza River. Here, twelve versts from Gomel, among dense forests, swamps, and bogs, Lavrenty built a small hut and a chapel dedicated to the Merciful Savior during the summer of that same year.

At that time, a punitive detachment was roaming the forests, searching for hidden Old Believers. But the Lord miraculously saved Lavrenty.

When soldiers surrounded his dwelling, the elder left his cell, approached a large oak tree nearby, and began to pray. He asked Almighty God and the Archangel Michael to hide him from the pursuers.

His prayer was answered. The soldiers did not see him. They passed by, finding no one, and left. Overjoyed, the elder thanked the Lord and Archangel Michael. He began to celebrate September 6th each year, marking his miraculous deliverance. This holiday later became a regular observance in the monastery of Venerable Lavrenty.

Christians seeking the eremitic life started to gather around the elder. Within a few years, a rather populated but extremely poor monastery emerged around his cell. During the first years of the monastery’s existence, the brothers often had to survive on oak bark and roots, not only as part of their voluntary ascetic effort but also due to poverty.

The monastery’s chapel had only four icons, which Lavrenty had brought from Kaluga: “The Miracle of the Archangel Michael in Colossae,” “The Entry of the Theotokos into the Temple,” “The Presentation of the Lord,” and “The Sign of the Theotokos.” These ancient icons were without any coverings or adornments. Only on major feasts were wax candles lit before them; during daily services, Lavrenty used a simple torch.

The elder established an extraordinarily strict rule in the monastery: if a monk sinned, he would first be admonished by the abbot and the council of brothers. Then he would be made to perform prostrations. If this did not help, the offender was chained in the basement. If even this punishment failed to correct him, the monk was expelled from the monastery in disgrace, forbidden to approach the monastery under threat of being beaten.

Lavrenty himself, a great prayerful and ascetic, set an example of ascetic life for the brothers.

The monks’ strict life and their unwavering observance of ancient piety inspired reverence among the people and earned the monastery great respect from local and distant Old Believers alike. By the mid-18th century, devout Christians from Moscow, Kaluga, the Don region, and other places began to send and bring monetary donations to Lavrenty’s monastery, along with gifts of liturgical books and icons, often richly adorned.

With the donations of pious benefactors, a magnificent four-tier iconostasis was constructed in the monastery chapel, unique in its adornments. The icons themselves were of ordinary craftsmanship, but each was adorned with gilded silver coverings.

Venerable Lavrenty passed away in 1776, having reached an advanced old age. When the brotherhood gathered around his deathbed, he blessed Monk Feofilakt to be the abbot after him and charged all the monks to strictly and diligently maintain the order he had established in the monastery and to forever preserve the harsh rule of ascetic life.

Then the elder spoke:

— Now, as I depart from this world, I can say with Symeon the God-Receiver: “Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen Thy salvation, which Thou hast prepared before the face of all people!”

The righteous servant of God was buried near the chapel. In the monastery treasury, the icons, his personal Psalter, and other liturgical books, which had belonged to the elder and were venerated as great relics, were carefully and respectfully preserved.

Thanks to the efforts of the subsequent abbots, the monastery was beautified and expanded. In its prime years, it had a church with six domes, a bell tower, a treasury, a refectory, a bakery, two barns, a large hay shed, a horse yard, 14 wooden cottages comprising 52 cells, and a blacksmith shop across the river. Almost every cottage had small gardens with fruit trees and sheds for firewood.

The monastery had vast forest lands, arable fields, and hay meadows. Among the monastic brothers were skilled icon painters, scribes, and bookbinders.

The Monastery of Venerable Lavrenty surpassed all other Old Believer monasteries in honor and importance. It was associated not only with the names of many venerable fathers but also with prominent church figures who worked gloriously for the benefit of Orthodoxy.

Having existed for over a hundred years, the Lavrenty Monastery was plundered by the authorities in 1839 and completely destroyed in 1844. It was thoroughly looted: the property was stolen, the buildings were demolished, and the bells and the magnificent iconostasis were handed over to one of the Nikonian churches. The monks were exiled, forbidden to wear monastic robes or preach the old faith.

Vikenty of Kroupsk

The ancient hermits tormented their bodies, remaining silent for decades, lying in coffins, and living in foul caves, shackled to the darkest corners. They battled temptations, presenting the laity with a model of sinless living.

One of the forms of ascetic struggle was dwelling in caves—referred to as “pechery” in old times. The first Russian cave monastery was the Pechersk Monastery in Kyiv, founded by the Venerable Anthony (who passed away in 1073).

This elder, born in the town of Lyubech, took monastic vows on Mount Athos. In the middle of the 11th century, he returned to Kyiv, where he found a small cave on a secluded hill and began living there, devoting himself to prayer and fasting. All the while, he dug his cave continuously, never allowing himself rest by day or night.

The people of Kyiv soon learned of the righteous hermit, and devout people seeking a monastic life began to come to him. Anthony accepted them and tonsured them as monks. Thus, a small monastery formed. The brethren dug a new cave, with a church and cells inside.

Among Anthony’s disciples, the Venerable Theodosius (who passed away in 1074) was especially renowned. As a young man, Theodosius left his parents’ home and came to Anthony, fell to the ground, and with tears, begged for permission to stay. The elder pointed to his cave and said:

— Child, do you see this cave? It is a sorrowful place, worse than most others. You are young, and I doubt you can endure the sorrows of living here.

But the youth persisted, and the hermit allowed him to stay in the monastery. In the dark cave, Theodosius was tormented and tempted by invisible hordes of demons.

After evening prayers, the monk would sit on a chair to nap, always sleeping upright, not allowing himself to lie down, even for a brief moment. As soon as Theodosius sat down, the cave would echo with the stomping of many demons, as though some were riding in chariots, others beating drums, and yet others blowing trumpets, all yelling so fiercely that the cave shook with the terrifying noise.

However, the monk remained unafraid and undismayed. He would make the sign of the cross, rise, and begin reading the Psalter. Immediately, the dreadful noise would cease. Thus, with God’s help, Theodosius triumphed over the evil spirits.

In the 17th century, the cave life was embraced by Job of Lgov. When he and his disciples settled on the Lgov Hills, they dug a small cave for themselves. Later, a black deacon named Arseny came from Moscow to join them, and together they dug further. They carried out the earth on their shoulders while singing psalms. Eventually, they dug new caves and long tunnels, above which Job built a church in honor of the Great Martyr Demetrius of Thessalonica.

Such was the arduous feat of cave-dwelling. In the 18th century on Vyetka, the monk Vikentiy Kroupski became famous for this same ascetic labor.

Vikentiy came to Vyetka from Moscow during the early years of settlement, at the end of the 17th century. Having escaped the “Vyetka Expulsion,” the monk settled in the Monastery of Lavrenty. There, he distinguished himself with a pious life and extraordinary asceticism, eventually taking the great schema.

After living in the monastery for five years, Vikentiy, with the abbot’s blessing, left for a solitary hermit’s life near the Russian border. Close to Lavrenty’s Monastery, near the village of Kroupsk , the monk dug a cave into a hill with his own hands and settled there.

From the cave, a secret door led to a narrow passage with various branches, where icons and crosses were placed in small alcoves. In one spot, Vikentiy dug a well, the water from which was later venerated as holy. The passage ended in a narrow cellar where the hermit lived.

Through tireless prayer, fasting, vigils, and wearing chains, the elder was filled with miraculous grace. It was said that Vikentiy possessed extraordinary clairvoyance and the gift of prophecy. Once, after long prayer, he fell into a spiritual ecstasy and experienced a divine vision.

Monks began to gather around Vikentiy. Near his cave, a skete with two chapels and several cells emerged. After a short while, a community of Old Believers formed around the skete, giving rise to the village known as New Kroupsk.

The fame of the great ascetic and steadfast defender of Orthodoxy drew more and more disciples to Vikentiy, and soon his community surpassed the monks of Lavrenty’s Monastery in the strictness of their monastic life.

In 1773, a year after the Vyetka settlements were transferred from Poland to Russia, Vikentiy passed away at almost one hundred years of age. His body, emaciated by fasting, vigils, prayer, chains, and labor, was found incorrupt.

The news of the saint’s relics spread throughout the Christian world. The skete’s inhabitants placed the relics in a wooden coffin and set it in the very cave where the elder had lived. Prayers were offered there daily from morning till evening.

Pilgrims, not only from the Old Believer settlements but also from nearby Belarusian villages, flocked to venerate Vikentiy’s relics. They took sand from the cave and water from the well that the saint had dug.

By the faith of those who took the sand and water, various ailments were healed. Miracles occurred at the tomb of this new servant of God. A life and account of Vikentiy’s miracles were written, but unfortunately, they have not survived.

In 1774, a local Nikonian priest, Ivan Yelansky, reported the relics to the authorities. An investigation began, in which even the Holy Synod took part. The following year, a decision was made: officials and soldiers were sent to New Kroupsk to inspect the relics and then bury them in a secret place so that the Old Believers could not find them.

However, the officials and soldiers acted in their own way. They burned Vikentiy’s body, sealed his cave, destroyed the skete, and scattered the monks.

On the site of the burned relics, on the ashes, the Old Believers found charred bones, parts of the elder’s clothing, and his heart, which remained completely intact. The faithful placed the remains in a small tin box and secretly brought them to Lavrenty’s Monastery.

The elder’s chains, bought at a great price from the Nikonians, were sent to Gomel. Now pilgrims came to Lavrenty’s Monastery to venerate Vikentiy’s relics. When Lavrenty died, he bequeathed to his successor the task of returning the holy relics to New Kroupsk, which was done.

In 1839, the authorities destroyed Lavrenty’s Monastery. The threat of destruction hung over the other monasteries in Vyetka and Starodub. At that time, Vikentiy’s relics were taken to Dobruja. Their further fate remains unknown.

The Pugachev Rebellion

The order of succession to the Russian throne, established by Peter I, was flawed. As a result, in the 18th century, many rulers, mostly women, occupied the Russian throne. Often, a new ruler’s ascension was accompanied by a military coup.

In 1741, with military support, Elizabeth, the daughter of Peter, ascended the throne. She had no children, so she declared her nephew, Charles Peter Ulrich, her successor. This German prince was the son of Elizabeth’s sister, Princess Anna Petrovna, and Charles Frederick, the ruler of the small state of Holstein-Gottorp.

In 1742, Charles Peter Ulrich moved to Russia and was given the Russian name Pyotr Fyodorovich. Three years later, he married the German princess Sophia Frederica Augusta, who became known in Russia as Catherine Alexeyevna—future Empress Catherine II. In 1754, the couple had a son, the future Emperor Paul I.

There was every reason to believe that Peter would be an ineffective ruler. Weak-willed and fond of alcohol, he adored everything German, especially the strict customs of the German army. He thought more about distant Holstein-Gottorp than about Russia.

Elizabeth Petrovna died in 1761, and her nephew ascended the throne, but his reign was short-lived. The following year, another palace coup occurred, with Peter being overthrown by his own wife. The deposed emperor was imprisoned in a palace, where he died under unclear circumstances—possibly due to excessive drinking or being murdered by his wife’s supporters.

During the reign of Catherine II, several pretenders emerged, claiming to be the “legitimate ruler, Pyotr Fyodorovich.” The most famous of these pretenders was Yemelyan Pugachev, an illiterate but brave and resourceful Cossack.

The Pugachev rebellion is the subject of Alexander Pushkin’s novella The Captain’s Daughter, well known to every schoolchild. This novella is one of the best works of Russian literature and is of particular interest to us because it partially touches on the history of the Old Believers. After all, Old Believers—Cossacks from the Don and the Yaik—participated in Pugachev’s uprising.

Yemelyan Pugachev was born in 1742 on the Don in a Cossack family. It is widely believed that Pugachev was an Old Believer, but this is incorrect. During interrogation, he said:

— Until I was seventeen, I lived with my father. However, I am not a schismatic like most Don and Yaik Cossacks, but of the Orthodox Greek faith. And I make the sign of the cross with three fingers.

Nevertheless, Pugachev had extensive contact with Old Believers. He lived in Old Believer settlements in Starodub and Vyetka, and when it was convenient, he passed himself off as an Old Believer.

In the fall of 1772, Pugachev settled at the Presentation of the Theotokos Skete on the Irgiz River, an Old Believer community led by Abbot Filaret (Semyonov). From him, Pugachev learned about the recent Yaik Cossack rebellion.

The uprising had begun in January 1772, sparked by the encroachments of imperial officials on the ancient freedoms of the Cossacks. By June, the rebellion was crushed. Many of the rebels were executed, branded, or sent to forced labor. Some even had their tongues torn out.

The Cossacks became embittered and began contemplating revenge against the government. Some spoke of following the example of the Nekrasovites—Cossacks who had fled to the Kuban—rather than remaining in Russia. The conditions for a new uprising were ripe.

At that point, Pugachev appeared, claiming to be Tsar Pyotr Fyodorovich. Few Yaik Cossacks believed the impostor, but many joined him.

The rebellion began in September 1773. The Cossacks were joined by serfs and workers from the Ural factories. Pugachev promised various freedoms to those who recognized him as tsar, including the freedom to cross themselves with two fingers, pray according to the old books, and wear beards.

Pugachev’s envoys traveled through the villages, reading his decrees:

“We grant by this decree, with our paternal mercy, that all those formerly in serfdom and under the landlords shall now be loyal subjects of our own crown. We bestow upon you the ancient cross and prayer, heads and beards, freedom, liberty, and the eternal status of Cossacks.”

These decrees had a powerful effect on the people, and commoners flocked to Pugachev’s army by the thousands. He gained the support of not only Russians but also various peoples of the Volga and Ural regions—Kalmyks, Bashkirs, Tatars, Chuvash, Mordvins, and Mari.

The banks of the Yaik, Volga, and Kama were engulfed in a bloody uprising.

Sometimes, after capturing a village or fortress, the rebels would demand that the local clergy henceforth conduct services according to the pre-Nikonian books. Frightened, the clergy complied with these demands.

However, Pugachev’s ignorance sometimes led to absurd incidents.

When the rebels entered a Cossack stanitsa (village), the priest met them with a cross. Pugachev kissed the cross and entered the stanitsa church. The royal gates of the iconostasis were open, and the impostor walked into the sanctuary, sat on the altar, and said:

— It’s been a long time since I sat on the throne!

The illiterate Pugachev had confused the church altar with the royal throne…

Catherine II sent troops to crush the impostor’s uprising. The rebels, poorly armed and disorganized, could not withstand the well-armed and disciplined imperial army. After suffering defeats, the rebellion’s leaders decided to capture Pugachev and hand him over to the authorities in exchange for amnesty.

The impostor was seized by his own comrades on September 8, 1774. A week later, in the Yaik town, the main Cossack stronghold, the bound Pugachev was handed over to officers.

Pugachev was transported to Moscow in a cage. Interrogations, investigations, and a trial ensued. The impostor was sentenced to death.

Along with Pugachev, some of his companions were also captured and sentenced to execution, including Yaik Cossacks and Old Believers Afanasy Perfiliev and Maxim Shigayev.

On the eve of the execution, a Nikonian priest came to the prison, tasked with hearing the confessions of the prisoners. The impostor repented, but Perfiliev and Shigayev refused to confess.

The next morning, on the day of the execution, January 10, 1775, the priest again came to the prison and gave communion to Pugachev in the new rite. Perfiliev and Shigayev refused communion.

The condemned were then taken to Bolotnaya Square, where the block and gallows awaited. Pugachev and Perfiliev were beheaded, while the others were hanged.

Thus ended the rebellion. By order of Catherine II, to forever erase the memory of the uprising, the Yaik River was renamed the Ural, and Yaik Town was renamed Uralsk.

The Search for a Bishop

We know that God is not the God of the dead, but of the living . In God, all are alive. Thus, the Holy Church consists not only of Christians who are currently alive but also of the righteous who have passed on. In the 18th century, this belief comforted the Old Believers with the thought that, although they had no living bishop, all the departed hierarchs—from the ancient apostles, the first bishops, to the martyred Pavel of Kolomna—were invisibly present with them.

However, the constant shortage of priests and the ever-present fear of losing them compelled the Old Believers to seek out a living Orthodox bishop, a reliable and permanent source of holy orders. Proper church governance is only possible with a bishop—a high priest, archpastor, and successor of the apostles.

The search for a bishop began in the 18th century. Both the Popovtsy (priestly Old Believers) and Bespopovtsy (priestless Old Believers) participated in these efforts. From the Vygo Monastery, Andrey Denisov first sent a man named Leonty Fedoseev and later the learned elder Mikhail Vyshatin to search for a bishop, but their quests were unsuccessful.

In their search for a bishop, the Old Believers had two goals. First, they sought to find a pious hierarch and convince him to join the Russian Church. Throughout the 18th century, Old Believers scoured not only Russia but also Turkish lands—Moldavia, Romania, Bulgaria, Serbia, Greece, and Palestine.

But they did not find a supreme pastor who, like Christ the Good Shepherd, would lay down his life for his sheep. The fear of the tsarist authorities, of the torture rack and the whip, of imprisonment and exile, proved stronger than Christian love.

However, in 1731, a bishop was unexpectedly found—not in distant lands, but in Moscow itself. Here, in prison, languished Bishop Epiphanius (Yakovlev), a Little Russian from Kiev who had been consecrated as a bishop by the Metropolitan of Moldavia.

Since, according to the laws of the time, Russians were forbidden to receive ecclesiastical ranks abroad, Epiphanius was arrested as soon as he returned to his homeland and was imprisoned. While in prison, he became acquainted with wealthy Old Believers who regularly gave alms to prisoners. They convinced Epiphanius to join their Church and helped him escape to Vetka in 1733.

However, the long-awaited arrival of a bishop was met with caution by the Old Believers. The problem lay in the fact that Epiphanius was from Little Russia, where baptisms were performed according to the Latin rite—by pouring, rather than immersion. The Old Believers could not accept a bishop with such a form of baptism.

While they were deliberating on what to do with Epiphanius, news of the bishop’s presence in Vetka reached Empress Anna Ioannovna. Enraged, the empress blamed Epiphanius for instigating the “Vetka eviction” of 1735. Tsarist troops invaded Vetka, ravaging it. The bishop was captured, taken to Kyiv, and once again imprisoned, where he later died.

Another Old Believer bishop in the mid-18th century was Bishop Theodosius. Like Epiphanius, he did not leave a significant mark on church history. Theodosius, a Cossack and native Old Believer, was consecrated a bishop for the Cossacks living in Kuban, which at that time was under the control of the Crimean Khan. He was consecrated by a Greek archbishop at the request of the Old Believers and the insistence of the khan. Theodosius died without leaving a successor.

In their search for a bishop, the Old Believers also dreamed of finding a land where ancient piety was still preserved in its entirety. In the 18th century, rumors of such blessed lands occasionally reached the Old Believers.

Some said that Orthodoxy flourished in Japan—in the Opon Kingdom, which stood on the ocean. Others claimed that the old rites were still observed in the temples of the Kingdom of Belovodye, hidden somewhere in Asia.

From time to time, people appeared in Russia claiming to have visited the Opon Kingdom or Belovodye. Occasionally, letters would arrive from these places, describing the triumph of the faith, the splendor of the churches, and the devout service of pious bishops.

In the late 19th century, a peculiar man named Anton Pikulsky—a civil servant’s son from Veliky Novgorod—traveled across Russia, claiming to be Archbishop Arkady, allegedly consecrated by the Patriarch of the Belovodye Kingdom.

But by that time, it was no longer easy to deceive people, and Pikulsky failed to gain followers…

Throughout the 18th century, the Polish Kingdom weakened and diminished. Strong neighbors—Austria, Prussia, and Russia—gradually took parts of its territory until Poland ceased to exist altogether. In 1772, the city of Gomel and the Vetka settlements were ceded to the Russian Empire.

Some Old Believers of Vetka and Starodub, disillusioned and wearied by their fruitless search for a bishop, began to speak of reconciling with secular and spiritual authorities and requesting a bishop and priests from the capital, Saint Petersburg, under Empress Catherine II and the hierarchs of the Synodal Church.

The first to express this idea was the monk Nikodim from Starodub. In 1783, he submitted a petition to the empress, requesting that a bishop be sent to the Old Believers from the Synod. However, Nikodim died a year later, and with him died his initiative.

In 1799, several merchants, parishioners of the Rogozhskoye Cemetery, submitted a petition to Metropolitan Platon (Levshin) of Moscow, asking for permission to receive priests from the Synodal Church. The metropolitan agreed to fulfill this request and take the Old Believers under his protection, but only on the condition that they recognized the authority of the Synod over them.

Thus, Yedinoverie (the union of Old Believers and the mainstream Orthodox Church) was born. It was similar to the earlier Unia (the union of Orthodox Christians with the Latin Church). The Yedinovertsy (those in the union) were completely subordinate to the Synod and received priests who served according to the old books. They also gained the right to freely build churches and monasteries and establish schools and printing presses.

Emperor Paul I signed the rules for the establishment of Yedinoverie on October 27, 1800.

However, Platon and other Synodal hierarchs believed that the old church books contained errors due to ignorance. They therefore treated their new flock with disdain, viewing them as a gathering of the unlearned. In the Synod, Yedinoverie was referred to as a “church ailment.”

The Old Believers, for their part, regarded Yedinoverie as a trap. At the beginning of the 19th century, only a small number of Christians joined the Yedinoverie. The number of adherents increased only under Tsar Nicholas I, when Old Believers were forcibly incorporated into the Synodal Church.

Emelyan Pugachev’s Appeal

(from a letter to the Cossacks of Berezovskaya Stanitsa)

By the grace of God, we, Peter the Third, Emperor and Autocrat of All Russia, make known the following.

This proclamation is addressed to the ataman of the Berezovskaya stanitsa and to all the Cossacks of the Don army living therein, as well as to all the people. Russia has long been filled with rumors of our concealment by evildoers (chief senators and nobles), and foreign states are not unaware of this. It is no other cause that brought this about but that during our reign, it was observed that the aforementioned evildoers—the nobles—had completely violated and trampled the Christian law and the ancient traditions of the holy fathers. In its place, they introduced into Russia another law, devised by their malicious schemes, from German customs, including the most God-despised practice of shaving beards and various outrages against the Christian faith, both in regard to the cross and in other matters.

They subjected all of Russia to their rule, apart from our monarchal authority, laying great burdens upon it and bringing it to the brink of utter destruction. As a result, the Yaik, Don, and Volga armies were expecting their complete ruin and extermination. We, having deeply lamented all of the above, were resolved to free the people from their tyrannical oppression and to bring freedom to all of Russia. For this, we were unexpectedly deprived of the All-Russian throne and, through the malicious decrees that were published, were declared dead.

But now, by the providence of the Almighty hand and by His holy will, instead of being entirely forgotten, our name has flourished… Therefore, we have deemed it proper, through this our most gracious decree, to make known our advance with a victorious army, both to the aforementioned Berezovskaya stanitsa and to the entire natural Don Cossack army. If they sense our fatherly care and wish to stand with their natural sovereign, who has endured great hardships and not small sufferings for the sake of common peace and tranquility, let those who desire to show zeal and dedication in the destruction of those nobles harmful to society appear in our main army, where we ourselves are present. For this, they shall not be left unrewarded, without our monarchal grace, and on the first occasion will receive ten rubles as a token of their service.

Rogozhskoye Cemetery

In 1762, Empress Catherine II ascended the Russian throne. A wise and calculating sovereign, she understood the benefits that wealthy Old Believers—industrialists and merchants—could bring to the country.

That same year, she issued a decree inviting fugitive Old Believers, primarily the inhabitants of Vetka, to return to Russia. They were promised privileges: permission not to shave their beards and to wear traditional clothing, as well as exemption from taxes for six years.

The decree was followed by a series of orders improving the position of the Old Believers. Peter I’s laws on shaving beards, Russian dress, and the double poll tax were repealed. It was forbidden to call adherents of the ancient church tradition “schismatics”; from now on, they were to be called “Old Believers.”

It was only during the reign of the gracious Catherine that something unprecedented occurred: in Moscow itself, right under the noses of the highest ecclesiastical and secular authorities, the Old Believers freely built enormous, magnificently decorated churches.

The churches were built under the following circumstances.

In December 1770, a plague broke out in Moscow, intensifying particularly in March 1771. Hundreds of people were dying daily. By order of the authorities, all cemeteries in the city were closed. The dead were buried in mass graves in the churchyards of villages around Moscow.

Among the closed cemeteries were two Old Believer burial grounds. These special churchyards, with chapels dating back to 1718, belonged to the priestly Old Believers. One was located near the Serpukhov Gate, the other near the Tver Gate.

For new burials, the priestly Old Believers were allocated land three versts from the Rogozhsky Gate. At the same time, the priestless Old Believers were allowed to establish their own cemetery near the village of Preobrazhenskoye. Thus, the famous Rogozhskoye and Preobrazhenskoye Old Believer cemeteries came into being.

When Rogozhskoye Cemetery was established, a small wooden chapel in honor of St. Nicholas the Wonderworker was built. In 1776, it was replaced by a larger stone church.

In 1791, with permission from Moscow’s governor Prozorovsky, the construction began on the unheated summer chapel in honor of the Protection of the Most Holy Theotokos, which for a long time was the largest of all the city churches. Originally, it was intended to accommodate up to three thousand worshippers, with altar apses and five domes.

The scale of the construction became known to Metropolitan Gabriel (Petrov) of St. Petersburg. He sent a report to the empress stating that the Old Believers “have begun building a church larger than the Assumption Cathedral, so that by its size they might diminish the first Church in Russia in the minds of the common people.”

Prozorovsky was forced to explain himself to Catherine and hurriedly ordered the apses to be demolished, the size reduced, and the church built with only one dome. This explains the somewhat awkward appearance of the Protection Cathedral—it resembles a large, but simple house.

Nevertheless, according to tradition, the empress graciously donated to the Moscow Old Believers a large altar Gospel in a silver setting, which was reverently kept in the altar of the Protection Church.

In 1804, the Old Believers managed, without complications, to build the heated winter chapel in honor of the Nativity of Christ.

Christians, who had lost the ancient Russian holy places—the cathedrals of the Moscow Kremlin—after the schism, created new shrines at Rogozhskoye Cemetery: the Churches of St. Nicholas, the Protection, and the Nativity.

These churches were lavishly adorned by the parishioners—wealthy Moscow merchants. The churches housed icons of the finest ancient craftsmanship, set in silver-gilt frames adorned with precious stones and pearls, silver candlesticks with massive candles, gilded iconostases, and magnificent liturgical vessels.

Unfortunately, only the Protection Cathedral has preserved its decoration to this day.

Around the cemetery, the Rogozhskaya Sloboda grew. Besides the churches, there were hospitals, almshouses, orphanages, priests’ houses, and five women’s monasteries.

Nuns and novices constantly read the Psalter for the deceased and also engaged in needlework: embroidering with silks, gold, and beads, weaving belts and prayer ropes, spinning flax, and weaving linen.

A special office, managed by trustees, was established to oversee the cemetery and almshouses. The office would send priests to distant places at its discretion to perform church services. Priests carried with them reserve Gifts, chrism, and holy water. In its best years, twelve priests and four deacons served at Rogozhskoye Cemetery.

The most famous and respected clergyman of the cemetery was Priest Ioann Matveevich Yastrebov (1770–1853). In 1803, convinced of the truth of the old faith, he left the Synodal Church and moved to Rogozhskaya Sloboda. Here, Ioann lived with his wife Euphemia for fifty years.

The churches of Rogozhskoye Cemetery were considered chapels without altars, so only Vespers, Matins, Midnight Office, Hours, and Prayer Services were performed in them, along with baptisms, confessions, and weddings. The dead were sung over in the Chapel of St. Nicholas.

Infant baptisms were performed in the Nativity Chapel, which contained 46 fonts. Priests heard confessions in the churches or sometimes at their homes. Those who had fasted and confessed received the Eucharist in the chapels from the reserve Gifts.

Once a year, on Great Thursday, secretly to avoid the authorities’ wrath, the priests celebrated the Liturgy for the consecration of the reserve Gifts using a portable field church. It resembled a tent, inside which a folding altar with an antimins was set up. In case of danger, this church could be quickly dismantled and hidden.

In 1813, after the end of the war with France, Moscow was occupied by Don Cossacks, many of whom were Old Believers. They sought spiritual support at Rogozhskoye Cemetery.

According to tradition, the famous military leader Ataman Matvei Ivanovich Platov (1751–1818) was an Old Believer. On his return to the Don after defeating the French, he gifted the cemetery an ancient field church, consecrated in honor of the Holy Trinity. The authorities allowed services to be held there on major holidays.

These services, which gathered thousands of worshippers, were celebrated in the chapels with great reverence and piety. However, in 1823, Emperor Alexander I, the grandson of Catherine II, received a report about the solemn services at the cemetery. A search was conducted, and Platov’s field church was confiscated.

Tsar Nicholas

The journey of many clergymen who converted to the Old Belief from the State Church began in Moscow at the Rogozhskoye Cemetery. They were brought here in secret, so the police would not find out. Here, they were anointed with chrism and left at the chapels to learn the proper way to serve according to the old books.

From Moscow, mysterious letters spread across Russia: “We found salt, but it was raw, so we dried it on a rush mat and stored it in a granary.” This meant that the Old Believers had found a priest from the Synodal Church (“raw salt”), performed the chrismation on him at Rogozhskoye Cemetery (“dried it on a rush mat”), and placed him at a church (“stored it in a granary”).

From there, the priests would travel to different parishes. They also found their final resting place at the cemetery. There was a special burial place for them, marked by a memorial cross with the inscription: “This cross of the Lord is set in memory of the clergymen who rest here with their bodies. They were always struck by the fear of external persecution and wearied by the internal deprivation of a pious episcopate. And in such cruel turmoil, like brave sailors without a helmsman, they saved the ship of the Church from sinking.”

Another cruel turmoil, which nearly sank the ship of the Church, began under Emperor Nicholas I. The situation of the Russian Church under him became completely unbearable.

Nicholas Pavlovich ascended the throne in 1825 after the death of his elder brother, Emperor Alexander I. The new autocrat adored strict military order—polished boots, the beat of drums, and soldiers’ obedience. He dreamed of turning the entire country into a barracks. But the Old Believers, independent of the Synodal Church, disrupted the orderly ranks of the tsar’s subjects.

In the army of that time, a soldier could be beaten with sticks, starved, sent to penal servitude, or executed for the slightest offense. The emperor decided that he could treat the Old Believers the same way, forcing them into submission through power and fear.

Once again, Christians were subjected to brutal persecution. Nicholas’ actions were blessed by Metropolitan Philaret (Drozdov) of Moscow.

To him, priests were the same kind of state officials as civil servants or military officers. Thus, he was irritated by Old Believer priests who had left the State Church. Philaret compared them to deserters—soldiers who had fled from service. He wrote: “The idea of allowing an official to desert or hide wherever he wants without punishment is destructive to public order. By law, a runaway priest, like any fugitive, should be caught immediately and sent to trial.”

The persecution of Old Believer clergy began in 1827. The tsarist government passed two laws aimed against “runaway priests.” From then on, they were not allowed to travel from place to place to visit their flocks. Furthermore, Old Believers were henceforth forbidden from accepting clergymen from the Synodal Church.

The main instrument of the government’s struggle against Old Belief became Edinoverie (Unity of Faith). Through it, both priestly and priestless Old Believers were forcibly joined to the State Church.

For refusing to accept Edinoverie, hundreds of churches and monasteries across the country were closed. With unprecedented cruelty, priestly monasteries in Starodub, Vetka, and Irgiz, as well as the priestless Vyg Monastery in Pomorye, were destroyed. The horror among the Old Believers was so great that some declared Nicholas to be the Antichrist, just as they had previously done with Peter I.

The priestly Old Believers found themselves in a completely hopeless situation. Due to the new persecutions, their priesthood, already small in number, was disappearing before their very eyes. The priestly Old Believers were facing a bleak future—being forced to become priestless.

At Rogozhskoye Cemetery, talk began about converting to Edinoverie. Quarrels and disputes broke out. Priest Ioann Yastrebov put an end to them. He proposed to the Muscovites to hold a church service in the Nativity Chapel, after which a general council would make a final decision regarding Edinoverie.

That evening, the church filled with praying people—a Vigil had begun. After the morning service, a solemn procession passed around the Nativity Chapel. Then, a cross and the Gospel were carried to the center of the church. The priest stepped forward.

All eyes turned to him. Without allowing any debate to begin, the priest raised his hand with the two-fingered sign of the cross and declared:
“Stand firm in the true faith and for the right cross until your last drop of blood! Whoever follows the true faith of Christ, come forward and kiss the cross and the Gospel. But whoever does not wish to remain in this position—leave now!”

Yastrebov was the first to kiss the cross and the Gospel, followed by all who had gathered. Thus, the Muscovites resisted the temptation of Edinoverie, remaining faithful to Orthodoxy.

But the persecutions led to a complete shortage of clergy. The situation was dire. The Church needed to find a reliable and permanent source of priesthood. Only a pious bishop could provide it.

In January 1832, a large council was held in Moscow. Christians from all over Russia gathered: respected priests, pious monks, and zealous laymen. Ioann Yastrebov announced to the assembled that among them was a worthy man with great news to share:
“He will reveal to you this mystery. He will show a way to forever avoid the difficulties of lacking priests. He will give our God-saved community new strength, firmness, and life. Here he is! Open your ears and listen to him!”

The priest brought forward a young merchant, Afoniy Kozmich Kochuyev (1804–1865), a well-known preacher and expert in church canons. With rare eloquence, Kochuyev described the Church’s dire situation caused by the persecutions and the lack of clergy.

He spoke about how the only way to preserve the Church was to establish a residence for a bishop abroad and to invite a worthy Russian or Greek bishop there:
“We must, without delay, establish an episcopacy. We must search for bishops who have retained the ancient piety. And if none can be found, invite Russian ones. And if they refuse, then invite Greek ones. And accept them according to the canons of the holy fathers. The residence must be established abroad, and the best place for it is Bukovina.”

Kochuyev’s proposal was unanimously approved. Under the cover of the deepest secrecy, new searches for a bishop began.

Belaya Krinitsa

The region of Bukovina, lying at the foot of the Carpathian Mountains, has always attracted conquerors. In the 16th century, these fertile lands were seized by Turkey. But in 1775, it was forced to cede them to the stronger Austria. In the 20th century, Bukovina belonged to Romania and the Soviet Union. Today, this region is divided between Ukraine and Romania.

At the time we are discussing, Bukovina was a district of the Austrian Empire. Numerous Old Believers lived there, enjoying the protection of the authorities. They were called Lipovans.

The Old Believers had resettled here in the 18th century from Russia and Turkey, from the regions of Moldavia and Dobruja. At that time, Bukovina had been ravaged by wars and lay desolate and depopulated. Thus, the Austrian authorities welcomed the arrival of settlers to these abandoned lands.

The governor of Bukovina reported to the Austrian capital, Vienna: “These Lipovans are an exceptionally peaceful, diligent, quiet, hardworking, neat, very sensible, and generally strong and robust people. Each of them is required to master a craft, which, along with agriculture, they use to best support themselves. They regard drunkenness and foul language as the greatest vices, and it is said that drunk Lipovans have been seen very rarely. Their clothing, especially among the women, is attractive, neat, and dignified. And they are very inclined to do good to their neighbors, whoever they may be. Throughout my service here, not a single complaint has been received against these truly worthy, good people.”

Austrian Emperor Joseph II, receiving such a favorable report, ordered that as many Lipovan families as possible be encouraged to settle in Bukovina.

In 1783, he signed a decree regarding the Old Believers, which stated: “We allow them complete freedom of religious practices for themselves, their children, and all their descendants, along with their clergy.”

This freedom of religion attracted both priestly and priestless Old Believers to Bukovina. In the village of Belaya Krinitsa, a priestly male monastery was established with a church dedicated to the Protection of the Most Holy Theotokos. It was here that the future Old Believer bishop was to be placed.

In 1839, two monks from Russia, Pavel (Velikodvorsky) and Heronty (Kolpakov), arrived at the Belaya Krinitsa monastery on a mission to find a bishop.

Pavel began working on establishing a residence for a bishop at the monastery. This required great effort. The monk had to draft numerous documents and deal with various officials in different institutions. Pavel and Heronty even had to travel to Emperor Ferdinand I himself in Vienna.

In the capital, the monks sought the patronage of an important court official. He asked:
“What do you want to arrange for yourselves?”
“We want to find a bishop,” the monks replied.
The official then showed Pavel and Heronty his hand and said:
“When hair grows on the palm of my hand, then you will have a bishop. Or I will not be alive!”

The monks, horrified by such a response, consoled each other:
“Every good beginning comes with trials.”

And it so happened that three days later, the court official unexpectedly died!

On September 6, 1844, the emperor signed a decree: “It is permitted to bring in from abroad one clergyman, specifically an archpastor or bishop, with the stipulation that he may ordain the Lipovan monks at Belaya Krinitsa to higher orders and also be able to ordain priests, as well as select and consecrate his successor.”

After this, Pavel, with a new companion—monk Alimpiy (Miloradov)—set off to search for a bishop willing to join the Old Believers. Heronty remained at the Belaya Krinitsa monastery, where the brethren elected him as the abbot.

From his youth, Pavel had been visited by visions of St. Nicholas, calling him to serve a great cause. And now the time for this cause had come! As he embarked on it, the monk was anxious and prayed, invoking Nicholas the Wonderworker.

And then one night, in a dream, the saint appeared to Pavel and said:
“The time appointed by God has drawn near. This task has been given to you by God. And I will be with you as a helper in all places.”

The monk, upon waking, did not give much significance to the dream. The vision repeated the next night, but again the monk did not believe it.

On the third night, while Pavel was praying earnestly, Nicholas appeared before him in bishop’s vestments, holding a church in one hand and a sword in the other. The saint sternly said to the astonished monk: “Do not resist God’s providence! God has commanded me to appear clearly as confirmation. If you still doubt, the sword you see will strike you.”

Encouraged by this extraordinary vision, Pavel and Alimpiy set off on a long journey. Before leaving the monastery, they prayed:
“Lord, if the task we begin will be of benefit, guide and help us. But if it is not beneficial, shorten our lives on the way, O Lord!”

The monks traveled throughout the Christian East, visiting Egypt, Syria, Palestine, and Constantinople-Istanbul. There, they met Greek Metropolitan Ambrose. He impressed the monks, and they invited the bishop to join the Russian Church.

The metropolitan hesitated in giving an answer. Seeing his indecision, Pavel and Alimpiy decided to return to Belaya Krinitsa. But on their final visit to Ambrose, they unexpectedly heard from him:
“I have decided to go with you!”

The delighted monks asked:
“Why, Your Eminence, have you now agreed to our proposal, while yesterday you did not?”

The metropolitan told them of an extraordinary vision:
“Yesterday, after seeing you off, I was preoccupied with the thought: is this offer good for me? With this thought, I prayed to God and went to bed. But I had not yet fallen asleep when suddenly a radiant man appeared before me and said: ‘Why do you weary yourself so much with thoughts? This great work has been destined for you by God, and you will suffer for it from the Russian tsar.’ At the word ‘suffer,’ I shuddered and awoke, but there was no one there. Only light was visible in the room, gradually fading, as if someone was walking away with a lit candle. My heart was filled with both fear and joy, so much so that I spent the entire night without sleep, praying to God. And I decided to give you my full consent, for if this is God’s will, we must carry it out with joy.”

The radiant man who had appeared to the metropolitan was St. Nicholas the Wonderworker. Thus, this great work, which began with the appearance of God’s servant, was successfully completed with his miraculous assistance.

Metropolitan Ambrose

In 1791, in the Greek village of Maïstra, which had been taken over by the Turks, a son named Andrei was born to the priest Georgios. Georgios was the twenty-second priest in his family line, and no one doubted that his son would inherit his vocation. From childhood, his father prepared Andrei for the priesthood.

The young man entered a theological school. In 1811, he married and was ordained a priest. Soon after, Andrei was widowed, left to care for his young son, Georgios. In 1817, he took monastic vows and was given the name Ambrose.

The local bishop took the hieromonk as his assistant. Through his pious conduct and good education, Ambrose earned the respect of the bishops of the Greek Church. In 1823, he was appointed abbot of the Trinity Monastery on the island of Halki.

The Patriarch of Constantinople, Constantius, took notice of Ambrose. He transferred the capable hieromonk to Istanbul and entrusted him with the important position of Grand Protosyncellus, the patriarch’s closest assistant.

In 1835, Metropolitan Benjamin, the archpastor of the Orthodox Serbs living in Bosnia, passed away. Ambrose was chosen to take his place. He was consecrated a bishop by the patriarch, assisted by four other hierarchs.

What did Ambrose see when he arrived in Sarajevo, the capital of Bosnia?

The Slavic land was under Turkish rule. The Muslims oppressed the Christians, and the Bosnian metropolitans did not intervene. But the new hierarch was not like them.

A true shepherd, he felt the suffering of his flock with all his heart and strove to ease their plight. A kind and just man, he could not look indifferently upon the afflictions of the Serbs and took their side.

This was so unusual, so contrary to the popular perception of haughty Greek hierarchs, that the Serbs refused to believe Ambrose was Greek. Since the metropolitan spoke Slavic well, a rumor spread that he was a native Slav—a Bulgarian.

In 1840, driven to despair, the Serbs, under the leadership of a certain Glodja, rose in rebellion against the pasha, the Turkish governor. Metropolitan Ambrose sided with the rebels, declaring:

— The people’s ruler is the one whom the people support!

The uprising ended in tragedy. The Muslims incited the Bosnian merchants to write a denunciation against Ambrose to the patriarch, accusing him of “meddling in dangerous affairs, conspiring with Glodja, and slandering the pasha.”

At that time, the patriarch was Anthimus, a timid and weak man. He understood the true nature of the accusations against the metropolitan but did not dare to contradict the Turkish authorities. In 1840, Anthimus recalled Ambrose to Istanbul. There, the hierarch lived under the patriarch’s patronage, receiving a decent allowance.

In 1844, Metropolitan Ambrose met the monks Paul and Alimpius. They were immediately drawn to him by his kindness and attentiveness. They often conversed about matters of faith, including Old Belief.

The stories of the monks touched the saint’s heart. He was filled with love for the Russian Old Believers, who suffered at the hands of their own government in a manner comparable to the suffering of the Greeks and Slavs under the Turkish yoke.

The monks spoke of how the ancient Greek Orthodox tradition had been preserved only in the Russian Old Faith. After these conversations, convinced of the truth of Old Belief, Ambrose desired to join it.

Together with the monks, his son Georgios, and his daughter-in-law Anna, he set off for Austria. At the end of May 1846, the hierarch left Istanbul, telling the patriarch that he wished to travel. Before his departure, Anthimus personally signed a letter permitting him to perform services.

Ambrose arrived in Vienna and was presented to Emperor Ferdinand.

He submitted a petition to the sovereign, in which he declared:

— I have firmly resolved to accept the election of the Old Believer community as its supreme pastor, seeing in this the clear providence of God, which has destined me to lead this community—hitherto deprived of a sacred archpastor—toward the path of eternal blessedness.

In his petition, the metropolitan also stated:

— I am fully convinced that all the statutes of the Greek Church are preserved in their original purity and accuracy only among the Old Believers.

From Vienna, the hierarch proceeded to Belaya Krinitsa. At the monastery, he took up residence in two small cells filled with icons, subsisting on simple monastic fare—soup or porridge, kasha, and fish.

Metropolitan Ambrose’s reception into the Church took place on October 28, 1846.

On that memorable day, the council of Belaya Krinitsa Monastery was packed with people. The archbishop entered the church and donned his episcopal vestments. Then he solemnly recited the rite of renouncing heresy:

— I, Ambrose, Metropolitan, come to the True Orthodox Church of Christ and anathematize the former heresies…

Then the hierarch entered the altar, and the hieromonk Jerome (Alexandrov) anointed him with chrism. Exiting the royal doors, the metropolitan blessed the people. The brethren sang “Many Years,” while the laity wept for joy and glorified God.

Together with Ambrose, his entire family joined the Old Belief.

After some time, a worthy Christian was chosen as the metropolitan’s successor. The lot fell upon the ustavshchik Cyprian Timofeev. He was tonsured and given the name Cyril. Ambrose consecrated him as a bishop for the Nekrasovite Cossacks living in Turkey.

When news of the Old Believers having their own bishops reached St. Petersburg, Tsar Nicholas demanded that Emperor Ferdinand punish Ambrose.

The hierarch was summoned to Vienna. He was given the choice of either returning to Istanbul or going into lifelong exile. At the same time, he was handed a letter from the patriarch, offering him protection.

To this, the hierarch replied:

— I have once embraced this religion and shall not turn back.

In July 1848, Ambrose received orders to go into exile in the city of Cilli. There he lived with his son’s family for fifteen years, strictly observing the monastic rule.

Envoys from Belaya Krinitsa visited him, bringing reserve Gifts for communion. The hierarch longed for the monastery and dreamed of returning there.

Gradually, Metropolitan Ambrose’s health declined. Dropsy, a severe illness, caused him unbearable suffering. Yet the saint continued to oversee church affairs until his very last moments.

On the morning of October 30, 1863, feeling the approach of death, Saint Ambrose prayed, received communion, and peacefully departed this life. His son buried him in the Greek cemetery in the city of Trieste.

The Belokrinitskaya Hierarchy

The ecclesiastical structure, comprising the three degrees of priesthood—bishops, priests, and deacons—is called a hierarchy. This word is of Greek origin and translates into Russian as “sacred authority” or “sacred governance.”

The first bishop consecrated by Metropolitan Ambrose was Bishop Cyril. Then, Ambrose and Cyril consecrated Bishop Arkady (Dorofeev).

Thus, the fullness of the Orthodox hierarchy was restored. It came to be known as the Belokrinitskaya hierarchy, named after the village of Belaya Krinitsa.

News of Old Believer bishops spread throughout the world. The unexpected triumph of the old faith enraged Nicholas I, who was prepared to persecute Christians not only in Russia but also beyond its borders.

In October 1847, the Austrian ambassador in St. Petersburg reported to Vienna that he had spoken with the tsar about Ambrose. The sovereign demanded the immediate closure of the Belokrinitsky Monastery and severe punishment for the metropolitan.

Nicholas threatened that if this did not happen, he would take decisive action:

— I will have to do something. This is too important for us to leave unanswered!

A month later, the ambassador reported that the Russians intended to recall their envoy from Vienna if Ferdinand I did not yield to the tsar’s demands. A conflict between the two powers was brewing, fraught with the risk of war. Ferdinand was forced to send Ambrose into exile.

But the great ecclesiastical work had already been accomplished. The priesthood of the Belokrinitskaya hierarchy spread throughout Russia. It was embraced not only by the popovtsy and bespopovtsy but even by the Nikonians.

This alarmed the government. After all, the Old Believers were undermining one of the pillars of tsarist authority—the Synodal Church!

Nicholas was not satisfied with Ambrose’s exile. He wished to utterly eradicate Old Belief. The Belokrinitskaya hierarchy was declared illegitimate. Its bishops and priests were branded as “false bishops” and “false priests,” “impostors” and “mere laymen.”

The hierarchy was given a derogatory nickname—“the Austrian hierarchy.” Since Austria was an enemy of Russia, every popovets was declared an enemy of the tsar and the fatherland.

Neither the imperial government nor the state Church recognized Old Believer sacraments. For many years, the persecution of the Belokrinitskaya hierarchy became the chief concern of both secular and ecclesiastical authorities. Thousands of priests, officials, and police officers participated in it.

In 1853, Archbishop Anthony (Shutov) arrived from Belaya Krinitsa in Russia and took leadership of the Church. That same year, on December 19, the priest Ioann Yastrebov, who had acknowledged the authority of Anthony and the Belokrinitsky metropolitan, passed away. The last “runaway priest” in Moscow, Peter Rusanov, remained.

At the beginning of 1854, several wealthy parishioners of the Rogozhskoye Cemetery declared their conversion to Edinoverie and petitioned the authorities to establish a Synodal Church parish at the cemetery. Metropolitan Philaret wasted no time in seizing the opportunity.

The Nikolskaya chapel, along with all its icons, books, and vestments, was handed over to the Edinovertsy. The bell tower was also given to them, as bell ringing had been prohibited for Old Believers since 1826.

To this day, the Nikolsky church has not been returned to its rightful owners—the Old Believers.

The police conducted a search at the cemetery. However, all valuable items had been preemptively moved to the homes of prominent parishioners. Nonetheless, in the chapels and storerooms, they found thousands of priestly and diaconal vestments. There was also an incalculable number of icons. Among the discoveries were 517 handwritten and early printed books, including several rare and remarkable ones.

The most valuable icons and books were taken by the Edinovertsy. A significant portion of the icons was transferred to Nikonian churches, along with the candleholders and lamps. As for the clergy’s vestments, on Philaret’s orders, they were burned.

At the end of 1854, Peter Rusanov also joined Edinoverie. The authorities believed that Rogozhskoye Cemetery would now be completely destroyed. But it survived.

For the Church, the era of fleeing priests had ended, and the time of the Belokrinitskaya hierarchy had begun.

In 1855, Tsar Nicholas I died. His son, Alexander II, ascended the throne.

Under him, Old Belief suffered its most severe blow—the altars of the churches at Rogozhskoye Cemetery were sealed. The pretext for this was a report from a Nikonian informer that on January 22, 1856, about 3,000 people had prayed in the Nativity Cathedral.

Metropolitan Philaret intervened. He submitted a petition to St. Petersburg, stating:

— To support schism at Rogozhskoye Cemetery is to support it even to the farthest reaches of Siberia. Conversely, to weaken it at Rogozhskoye Cemetery is to weaken it everywhere.

The emperor, Alexander, liked Philaret’s reasoning. He decided to discipline the Old Believers and wrote on the petition:

— If they do not join Edinoverie, then they have no need for altars to serve in.

With the sovereign’s approval, on July 7, 1856, the police sealed the royal doors and deacon’s doors of the iconostases in the Pokrovsky and Nativity cathedrals. These Moscow shrines stood without the Divine Liturgy for nearly 50 years, until Easter 1905.

Under Alexander II, as under Nicholas I, the old faith suffered monstrous persecutions—comparable only to the days of Alexei Mikhailovich or Peter I.

In 1847, the police arrested Gerontius, the abbot of Belokrinitsky Monastery. He had come from Austria to inform Christians about Metropolitan Ambrose’s reception into the Church and to collect funds for the monastery.

By imperial decree, Gerontius was first imprisoned in the Peter and Paul Fortress in St. Petersburg, then transferred to Shlisselburg Fortress.

The elder spent 21 years in solitary confinement. Driven to madness, he was later moved to a Nikonian monastery, where he died in 1868.

For those who had committed crimes against the state Church, the government established a special prison in the city of Suzdal. It was housed in the dark and damp casemates of the ancient Spaso-Euthymius Monastery. Many Old Believers languished there.

Among them was Aphony Kochuyev, who urged the disheartened Old Believers to renew their search for a bishop. Also imprisoned was the pious layman Fyodor Zhigarev, who had brought newly consecrated chrism from Belaya Krinitsa to Rogozhskoye Cemetery in 1847.

Four bishops—Alimpius, Arkady, Gennady, and Konon—were also held there.

The Death of Metropolitan Ambrose

(From the work “The Passing of Metropolitan Ambrose”)

The health of the metropolitan declined completely from October 15, leaving him bedridden. Yet he did not lose his remaining strength, his reason, his memory, or his gift of speech. He remained unchanged in all things.

On October 25, as he neared his departure, envoys from Russia arrived with documents for the affirmation of church matters. Though gravely ill, he carefully reviewed them and lawfully established their provisions. Unable to rise from his sickbed, he lifted himself with assistance and personally signed the ecclesiastical decrees, entrusting them to the envoys and blessing them with his final instructions.

Preparing to depart from the Church Militant to the Church Triumphant, where eternal peace reigns undisturbed, he exhorted all to firmly uphold the peace of the Church, echoing the words of Christ:

— Peace I leave with you, My peace I give unto you.

Then, overcoming the agitation of his heart, he gave his final archpastoral word to the Church and asked all Christians to pray for him.

Sitting in his bed, he blessed the envoys for their journey.

On October 30, at the eighth hour of the morning, he peacefully reposed in deep old age.

May we be found worthy to be one flock under the one true Shepherd—our Lord Jesus Christ.

The Sufferers of Suzdal

In the second half of the 19th century, Russia experienced a flourishing of science, art, and literature. During this time, gifted scholars, composers, artists, writers, and poets brought worldwide renown to the country through their works. Many literary masterpieces were written during this period—works now known to every schoolchild.

In 1859, Ostrovsky’s play The Storm was staged for the first time in the theater. In 1862, Turgenev’s novel Fathers and Sons was published. In 1866, Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment was released for the first time. In 1869, Tolstoy completed War and Peace. In 1876, Nekrasov finished his poem Who Lives Happily in Russia?, and in 1880, Chekhov published his first short stories.

It seemed as though the light of enlightenment had forever banished the shadows of cruelty, barbarism, and ignorance from Russia. Yet at the same time, across the country, Old Believer clergy were being unjustly and indefinitely imprisoned.

Bishop Savvatiy (Levshin) of Siberia spent six years in prison. Bishop Constantine (Korovin) of Orenburg was held in confinement for two years. The dungeons of Solovetsky Monastery remained occupied as before, with many priests, monks, and laypeople suffering there.

Old Believer clergy who fell into the hands of the authorities were put on trial. Not for crimes—not for murder or theft—but simply for refusing to submit to the Synodal Church and for preaching the old faith.

The main prison for Old Believers was the Spaso-Euthymius Monastery. In 1854, Archbishop Arkady (Dorofeev) and Bishop Alimpiy (Veprintsev) were brought there.

Arkady and Alimpiy had once taken monastic vows at the Laurentian Monastery in Vetka. Later, they were consecrated as bishops for the Old Believers of Dobruja. Arkady became the archbishop of the settlement Russian Glory, while Alimpiy became the bishop of the city of Tulcea.

In 1853, Dobruja—then under Turkish rule—was occupied by Russian troops. In 1854, Arkady and Alimpiy were arrested as “false bishops” and sent to Kiev, then to Moscow. After severe interrogations, they were placed in the Suzdal monastic prison under the supervision of an archimandrite.

The hierarchs were confined in solitary cells and stripped of their names: Arkady became Secret Prisoner No. 1, and Alimpiy—Secret Prisoner No. 2. For years, they saw no human face except for the servant who brought them food. Occasionally, the archimandrite would visit, urging them to submit to the Synodal Church. But the bishops remained steadfast and never renounced Old Belief.

In the dark and cold dungeon, the aged Alimpiy’s health declined. He passed away in 1859, remaining faithful to the old faith until the end.

That same year, another prisoner was brought to the monastery—Bishop Konon (Smirnov) of Novozybkov, who had been arrested by the police in 1858. In 1863, Bishop Gennady (Belyaev) of Perm was also imprisoned there.

The hierarchs were placed under strict surveillance. Armed guards stood by their cells, constantly watching them through special peepholes in the doors. Under such unrelenting scrutiny, even praying in peace was impossible. The prisoners were forbidden to keep paper, ink, or pens, and they were not allowed to correspond with anyone.

Although the bishops were held in the utmost secrecy, the Old Believers eventually learned of their imprisonment. Letters began to arrive in Suzdal from all over Russia. The faithful expressed sympathy for the imprisoned bishops, asked for their prayers and blessings, and sent gifts, including black caviar. All letters were inspected by the archimandrite, who kept the gifts for himself.

The hierarchs languished in prison until 1881. That year, Emperor Alexander II was killed in a bomb explosion, and his son, Alexander III, ascended the throne. By his decree, the three suffering bishops—having completely lost their health in the dark dungeons—were finally freed.

The writer Leo Tolstoy played a role in their liberation. Learning about the prisoners in the Suzdal prison, he used his influential relatives and acquaintances to petition on their behalf in St. Petersburg. It was only after a second attempt that these efforts succeeded—the bishops were released.

The tsar’s mercy was announced to the hierarchs on September 9, 1881. The next day, they left the prison forever.

Konon, who was already 84 years old, was so weak that he could not walk. He had to be carried out of his cell in the arms of others. The elderly bishop spent the rest of his life bedridden.

The tragic fate of the Suzdal prisoners was widely known throughout Russia. Newspapers wrote about them, Tolstoy himself defended them, and their release became a major event in public life.

Yet the fates of hundreds of Old Believer priests, deacons, and monks—who suffered in prisons and labor camps—remain less well known. A testament to their martyrdom for Christ can be found in the many letters sent to Archbishop Anthony.

Here are just two of them.

Priest Ioann Tsukanov from the village of Ploskoye was captured in December 1869 while traveling to minister to his flock. During interrogation, he declared himself a clergyman:

— Suddenly, I was bound with iron shackles. And while being chained, one of the witnesses—a Moldovan of cruel disposition—grasped my foot tightly with both hands and forcibly twisted it out of its joints. Since then, I have not dared to step on it.

His parishioners managed to secure his release on bail. From home, he wrote to the archbishop:

— I am now sick, suffering in both my legs and my entire body, and my health is completely broken. I can no longer go out to serve, for which I humbly ask Your Grace to pray for me.

Priest Savva Denisov, who served in the Don region, wrote to the archbishop in March 1873:

— Tell all of God’s chosen Christians of my imprisonment. Bring prayer to the Lord God for my affliction, that the Merciful Lord may strengthen me from above to endure the sorrows of prison, where I shed tears from my suffering.

— My imprisonment is as sorrowful as the noisy Babylon. I have no peaceful place to pray. Only the Jesus Prayer brings me comfort and gladdens my heart.

— My soul longs to be freed from these chains. The prison weighs upon me greatly, for it is filled with a perverse and wicked people.

Everyone understood that a modern world power could no longer apply the cruel laws of past centuries against those of different faiths and beliefs. The Old Believer question could no longer be resolved through imprisonment, exile, hard labor, and shackles.

Preobrazhenskoe Cemetery

In the mid-18th century, there were no more than twenty bespopovtsy families of the Fedoseyev persuasion in the Moscow suburbs of Cherkizovo and Preobrazhenskoe. Their prayer house was located in Preobrazhenskoe.

Nearby were large brick factories owned by the wealthy merchant Ilya Alexeyevich Kovylin (also spelled Kavylin, 1731–1809). After becoming acquainted with the village residents, Kovylin decided to convert to Old Belief.

The bespopovtsy regarded the Synodal Church as a congregation of the Antichrist and did not recognize baptisms performed within it. All who joined them were re-baptized. Kovylin was no exception—he was re-baptized in 1768.

During the plague of 1771, Kovylin petitioned Catherine II for permission to establish a hospital near Preobrazhenskoe and received approval.

Alongside the hospital, almshouses and a cemetery were founded. A special place for re-baptism was arranged at a nearby pond for those wishing to join the bespopovtsy. The buildings were enclosed by crenelated walls with towers.

Thus arose the renowned Preobrazhenskoe Cemetery, which remains of great significance to Old Believers to this day.

Becoming the overseer of the hospital and almshouses, Kovylin exerted great effort in establishing an Old Believer community based on them. In 1781, he traveled to the Vyg Monastery and brought back a monastic rule for the Moscow bespopovtsy.

According to this rule, two monastic communities were established in Preobrazhenskoe—one for men and one for women. All interaction between them was strictly forbidden. Special attire was assigned to all inhabitants: men wore black caftans, while women wore black sarafans and headscarves.

By the end of the 18th century, the number of parishioners at Preobrazhenskoe Cemetery had grown to 10,000. Kovylin donated his vast fortune—300,000 rubles—for the benefit of the Old Believer community. With these funds, stone churches and monastic cells were built.

In 1784, a majestic church dedicated to the Dormition of the Most Holy Theotokos was constructed in the men’s monastery. In 1805, a small chapel for funeral services was erected at the cemetery. In 1811, after Kovylin’s death, the Exaltation of the Cross church in the women’s monastery was completed.

Kovylin spent money not only on the construction of churches and the establishment of almshouses but also on collecting ancient books, icons, and other artifacts of Russian antiquity.

In 1806, renovations began on the Poteshny Palace in the Kremlin—the very place where Alexei Mikhailovich’s court theater had been housed. The historic building was being adapted to modern needs, with its interior and exterior decorations being destroyed.

Kovylin managed to purchase the palace’s white-stone gates, adorned with images of lions. These Lion Gates were transported to Preobrazhenskoe and installed at the entrance of the women’s monastery. However, in 1930, they were destroyed.

A dynamic and enterprising man, Kovylin had extensive connections. He frequently visited the capital and had met Empress Catherine II, Emperor Paul I, and Emperor Alexander I on multiple occasions. In 1809, the merchant once again traveled to St. Petersburg on business for the monastery.

On his return journey to Moscow, Kovylin caught a cold and suddenly passed away on August 21, 1809. His body was buried at Preobrazhenskoe Cemetery.

To this day, the bespopovtsy reverently preserve Kovylin’s grave. Inscribed on his tombstone are the words:

— Mortal, remember that the Holy Church, or the spiritual assembly of Christians, is one body, whose head is Christ, and that any discord among Christians is an ailment of the Church that offends its Head. Therefore, strive to avoid all occasions that might inflame enmity and discord.

The writer Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky held Kovylin’s memory in high regard. His father, Mikhail Andreevich Dostoevsky, obtained a position as a physician at the Mariinsky Hospital—a Moscow infirmary for the poor—thanks to Kovylin’s assistance.

In June 1880, Dostoevsky traveled to Moscow for the unveiling of the Pushkin Monument. Taking the opportunity, he decided to visit Kovylin’s grave. He invited his friend Bykovsky to Preobrazhenskoe Cemetery:

— If you wish to pay your respects to the great Russian benefactor Ilya Alexeyevich Kovylin, whose remains rest at the Old Believer Preobrazhenskoe Cemetery, come to me this evening. Ivan Sergeyevich Turgenev and Dmitry Vasilyevich Grigorovich are coming with me. My late father knew Kovylin personally. Thanks to his intercession, my father secured the position of doctor at the Mariinsky Hospital.

Kovylin never refused anyone in need of help. Yet this did not prevent him from adhering to bespopovtsy teachings, which held that the world was ruled by the Antichrist and that the Russian tsar was his servant. At Preobrazhenskoe Cemetery, prayers for the health of rulers were never offered, though they did not reject royal favors.

This led to the monastery coming under close police surveillance in 1847. The cemetery’s caretakers—merchants Fyodor Alexeyevich Guchkov and Konstantin Yegorovich Yegorov—were sent into exile.

Perhaps the real reason for their disgrace was the discovery that Preobrazhenskoe Cemetery was considering accepting the priesthood of the Belokrinitskaya hierarchy. When word of this reached St. Petersburg, the authorities decided to act cunningly.

Deceptive agents secretly sowed distrust of the popovtsy among the bespopovtsy. A rift developed among the leading figures of Moscow’s Old Believer community—one that greatly benefited the authorities.

After the unsuccessful attempt to receive priesthood from the Ancient Orthodox Church, the Fedoseyevtsy turned to the Synodal Church. In 1853, the sons of Guchkov and several esteemed merchants—53 parishioners of Preobrazhenskoe Cemetery in total—converted to Edinoverie.

At their request, the authorities seized the Dormition Chapel from the Old Believers. In 1854, Metropolitan Philaret consecrated the St. Nicholas Chapel there. By 1857, the entire Dormition Church, which had been rebuilt by the Guchkovs, was consecrated as an Edinoverie church.

In 1866, the men’s monastery at Preobrazhenskoe Cemetery, along with all its property, was seized by the state Church. By Philaret’s blessing, an Edinoverie men’s monastery was established there.

The bespopovtsy were left only with the women’s monastery and the Exaltation of the Cross Chapel. It was not until 1923, when the monastery was closed by the Soviet authorities, that the Old Believers managed to reclaim the eastern part of the Dormition Church.

Archbishop Anthony

At any moment, the supreme hierarch of the Russian Old Believers, Archbishop Anthony, could have shared the fate of the suffering prisoners in Suzdal. Only the mercy of God spared him from imprisonment. Preserved by divine providence, Anthony led the Church for many years.

Andrei Illarionovich Shutov, the future archbishop, was born in the village of Nastasino, near Moscow, to a poor peasant family that belonged to the Synodal Church.

His parents were simple people and kept no chronicles or genealogies. Thus, the exact year of his birth remains unknown. Some sources suggest 1800, while others—perhaps more reliably—place it in 1812.

At the age of ten, Andrei, already literate, was sent by his parents to work in the office of a textile factory in Nastasino. After three years, he was sent to Moscow to study drawing. After two years of study, the young man returned to the factory and worked as a designer, creating patterns for fabrics.

In 1827, Andrei’s father passed away. A year later, his mother pressured him into marriage. However, in 1833, Shutov left his mother Anastasia and his wife Irina and secretly fled to the bespopovtsy-Fedoseyevtsy at the Pokrovsky Monastery.

This monastery was located in Starodub, near the settlement of Zlynka. There, Andrei was re-baptized according to the Fedoseyev teaching. He wished to take monastic vows and remain in the monastery permanently, but the strict laws of the time made this impossible.

Shutov moved to Moscow and found work in the office of the textile merchant Guchkov, who was the overseer of Preobrazhenskoe Cemetery.

In the office, Shutov advanced to the position of senior clerk, and later served as treasurer at Preobrazhenskoe Cemetery. His wife Irina, who had also converted to Old Belief, lived there until her death in 1847.

Several times, Andrei Illarionovich attempted to leave Moscow and his treasurer’s position in search of a secluded monastic life. But each time, the bespopovtsy persuaded him to return to Preobrazhenskoe Cemetery. Only in 1849 was he finally able to leave the bustle of the city and move to Pokrovsky Monastery, where he took monastic vows and was given the name Anthony.

In 1850, Anthony moved to the Old Believer Voinovsky Monastery in Prussia. A year later, he went to a skete near the village of Klimoutsy in Austria. This village, located two versts from Belaya Krinitsa, was inhabited by Fedoseyevtsy.

At Belokrinitsky Monastery, Anthony met the venerable monk Paul. They often discussed Christian priesthood and the Orthodox sacraments. These conversations convinced Anthony of the falsehood of bespopovstvo, and he desired to join the Church.

When the residents of Klimoutsy learned of this, they attacked Anthony, stripped him of his clothes and shoes, and harshly rebuked him for abandoning their faith. They locked him in a cell wearing only a shirt and kept him under guard for at least five weeks.

Despite this, Anthony managed to escape from Klimoutsy and flee to Belokrinitsky Monastery. In February 1852, he was received into the Church, tonsured anew, and blessed to bake bread for the brethren.

A year later, on February 3, 1853, Metropolitan Cyril consecrated him as a bishop. Anthony became Archbishop of Vladimir.

Fearing arrest, the archbishop returned to his homeland. All Russian Old Believer clergy recognized him as their supreme pastor.

The saint’s tireless labors for the Church soon drew the attention of the imperial government. A warrant was issued for his arrest. A massive reward of 12,000 rubles was promised for his capture. This led to an influx of detectives who abandoned all other tasks and focused solely on apprehending Anthony.

The archbishop had to go into hiding, dressing as a peasant, sleeping in haylofts and attics. Many times, he was surrounded by police, detectives, and Cossacks. But each time, by some miracle, he evaded capture. His ingenuity was remarkable.

For example, when pursued, the saint would soak a handkerchief in vodka and place it in his pocket. When detectives caught up with him, he would take out the handkerchief and rub it on his face. Smelling the strong scent of alcohol, the detectives doubted that he was their target. Pretending to be drunk, Anthony would then slip away.

While constantly on the move, the archbishop continued to ordain clergy, tonsure monks, consecrate portable churches, and bless secret house chapels. In the early years of his episcopacy alone, he ordained 54 priests.

In 1863, the Church Council elected Anthony Archbishop of Moscow and All Russia.

The saint was an avid collector of spiritually edifying books, distributing them to bishops, zealous priests, and pious laypeople. He donated many manuscripts and publications to monasteries. But Anthony gave more than just books—he adorned many churches with icons.

To clergy who had been imprisoned or exiled, the archbishop sent alms and petitioned the authorities for their release through trusted intermediaries. Orphans left destitute by deceased priests were placed in good homes where they could be provided for. Anthony also aided priests’ widows and aging or retired clergymen.

Despite his constant concern for the Church and the daily expectation of arrest, the archbishop rigorously adhered to his monastic vows. He prayed fervently every day and fasted so strictly that he abstained not only from alcohol but even from drinking warm water. Even in illness, he never abandoned the divine services.

After serving approximately one hundred liturgies in succession, on the night of November 2–3, 1881, Anthony experienced severe chest pains, from which he had long suffered.

Realizing that death was near, the archbishop began issuing final instructions regarding all ongoing matters.

His cell attendant said to him:

— Why, Vladyka, are you giving orders as if everything is final? Perhaps the Lord will restore your health, and then you will see these matters through yourself.

But the archbishop replied:

— No, I dare not ask God for this now. When I was seriously ill before, I prayed for two more years of life. In His mercy, He granted me five. I must be content with this.

After several days of illness, the saint peacefully reposed on November 8, 1881, in his modest dwelling in Moscow.

On November 10, he was buried at Rogozhskoye Cemetery in the presence of a vast multitude of people.

The Chapel Concord

In the early 18th century, under Peter I, when life was especially difficult for the Old Believers, bespopovtsy preachers taught that the Russian kingdom—and the entire world—had fallen under the rule of the Antichrist.

In the Volga region, this message was spread by Kozma Andreev and Kozma Panfilov, peasants from Kerzhenets. Their teaching was simple. They claimed:

— The grace of God is no longer found in churches, nor in reading, nor in singing, nor in icons, nor in any object. Everything has been taken up to heaven.

Both preachers were captured and died under torture.

Their followers formed a distinct movement within bespopovstvo—the Netovtsy (Nets Agreement). The name derives from the word net (“no”), since, according to their doctrine, there is no longer a true Church, no true priesthood, and no true worship left in the world.

The Netovtsy were sometimes called Spasovtsy (Savior’s Concord), as they placed all their hope in Christ the Savior, saying:

— The Merciful Savior alone knows how to save us.

In Novgorod and Pskov, Feodosiy Vasilyev preached about the reign of the Antichrist. He taught:

— Because of our sins, the Antichrist now rules the world, reigning spiritually in the visible Church. He has destroyed all its sacraments and darkened every sacred thing.

This fearful preaching spread beyond the Ural Mountains and into Siberia, unsettling the minds of simple Christians. Many began to say, referring to Tsar Peter:

— Here he is, the Antichrist, the devil’s devoted servant, the merciless persecutor of believers. Here are the last days. Persecution and executions are everywhere. The blood of Christians flows in rivers across the Russian land. The end of the world is near!

To many, the signs of the impending apocalypse seemed undeniable—such as the brutal destruction of the Kerzhenets sketes by the authorities in 1719.

Tens of thousands of Christians fled from the Volga to the Urals, the Altai, and Siberia. There, they mingled with local Old Believers, giving rise to a unique form of Old Belief in Trans-Urals, which combined elements of both popovstvo and bespopovstvo.

Old Believers living in settlements and working in factories leaned more toward popovstvo, while those in rural villages engaged in farming tended toward bespopovstvo.

This was largely due to the scarcity of devout clergy. There were too few priests to meet the spiritual needs of all believers, especially those living in remote countryside areas.

Thus, in 1723, a council was held in the village of Kirsanova on the Iryum River, which allowed laypeople, in cases where a worthy priest could not be found, to baptize infants themselves and perform marriages with parental blessings.

Among the refugees from Kerzhenets was the hieromonk Nikifor. He first lived in the Urals and later settled on the Yaik River. Through his blessing, the Old Believers accepted Semen Klyucharev, the first “runaway priest” in those regions.

Several other priests were later received by the Old Believers. They were highly respected. However, in 1754, the last of them, Jacob, died in Nevyansk. For the first time, the faithful were left without priests.

They feared accepting priests from Vetka and Starodub, suspecting that some of them might have been baptized by sprinkling rather than immersion. Or perhaps the bishop who ordained them had himself been baptized improperly.

For several years, the Old Believers managed without clergy, until they found a certain Father Peter. However, no one was available to receive him into Old Belief through confession, the renunciation of heresy, and the sacrament of Chrismation. After much deliberation, they decided to perform three molebens, after which Peter vested in priestly garments and began to serve.

After Peter’s death, the Old Believers debated where they could find priests who had undoubtedly been baptized by immersion. A rumor spread that in Georgia, baptisms were performed with triple immersion. Later, they began to say that the clergy of Ryazan met the strict requirements of Old Belief.

Thus, in the Urals, only Georgian and Ryazan priests were accepted.

The first Ryazan priest was Hieronimus, who was acknowledged as having valid succession from Father Jacob. The last priest in the Urals was Paramon Lebedev. However, in 1838, he returned to the Synodal Church.

After this, the most devout Christians traveled to distant places for confession, communion, and marriage, seeking out the few remaining pious priests. Some would travel 500 versts to Kazan, where a priest secretly lived in a merchant’s house.

Some communities accepted priests who had been received into Old Belief through Chrismation in the monasteries on the Irgyz River. But in 1837, under Nicholas I, these monasteries were destroyed with unprecedented cruelty.

After this, in Old Believer communities in the Urals, the Altai, and Siberia, Nicholas was declared to be the Antichrist. Once again, there was talk of the imminent end of the world.

However, after the emperor’s death, the Old Believers asked themselves: Whom should we now consider the Antichrist? Heated disputes began. The faithful split into two irreconcilable factions.

One group believed that the Antichrist had physically, visibly, taken the throne in the person of the Russian tsar. They considered all emperors and subsequent rulers of Russia to be the Antichrist, even up to the present day.

The other group argued that the Antichrist had established his reign spiritually, invisibly. To them, the entire state system—its officials, police, and soldiers—was the Antichrist.

Some communities rejected the continued acceptance of runaway priests, effectively becoming bespopovtsy. They formed a distinct movement within Old Belief known as Chapel Concord (Chasovennoe Soglasie).

The name comes from the fact that these Old Believers conducted services in chapels (chasovnya) without altars. This group was also called Starikovtsy (“Elder’s Concord”), as their worship services were led by respected lay elders.

Refusing to accept new priests, these Old Believers kept reserve Holy Gifts in their homes, consecrated by former priests, for use in communion. Baptism of children was entrusted to elders. Marriages were either performed with parental blessings or conducted in Synodal Church temples.

Initially, the Chapel Old Believers regarded their situation as unfortunate and improper. The elders, who had been baptized and married by priests, understood that their actions were unlawful and barely beneficial for the soul. They never abandoned hope of finding true priesthood and the true Church.

Thus, in the second half of the 19th century, many from the Chapel Concord accepted the priesthood of the Belokrinitskaya Hierarchy. Those who did not, over time, became fully bespopovtsy.

Wonderworkers of Shamara

Since the time of the Schism, the Urals had become a refuge for thousands of Christians who refused to accept the reforms of Alexei Mikhailovich and Patriarch Nikon. Numerous refugees settled throughout this vast region, from the Pechora River in the north to the Yaik River in the south.

The local Old Believers engaged in farming, trade, and various crafts. They mined ore and worked in iron and steel factories, while others served in the Ural Cossack Host. In major cities such as Yekaterinburg, Kurgan, Nizhny Tagil, Orenburg, Orsk, Perm, Sterlitamak, and Ufa, large communities of both popovtsy and bespopovtsy thrived.

In the mid-19th century, two brothers—Arcady and Constantine—lived in the Urals. They were Old Believers of the Chapel Accord (Chasovennoe Soglasie) and had taken monastic vows. They came from a wealthy family, were young and well-read. In the Bible and the writings of the Church Fathers, they found assurance that the Church, the priesthood, and the sacraments would remain on earth until the end of time.

Upon learning of the emergence of the Belokrinitskaya Hierarchy, the brothers decided to investigate for themselves. They undertook a long and arduous journey to Moscow, where they met Archbishop Anthony.

After speaking with the hierarch, Arcady and Constantine wished to join the Church. The archbishop ordained them as priests. After spending some time away from the Urals, the brothers returned home, bringing with them the reserve Holy Gifts for Communion.

They began preaching to their fellow countrymen about the pious clergy and the Church’s sacraments. However, their preaching only provoked hostility among their relatives and acquaintances. Eventually, the brothers left their homeland, seeking a more secluded place away from the turmoil of the world.

They settled in a dense forest near the present-day village of Platonovo, on land owned by a peasant named Guryan Ivanovich Shchukin. With his permission, Arcady and Constantine built a small hut in the woods and lived in complete solitude. They survived on berries, mushrooms, and roots, catching fish from the river. They wore heavy chains as a form of ascetic discipline and prayed without ceasing.

An elderly woman from the Shaydura hamlet accidentally discovered the hermits’ cell. The brothers begged her not to reveal their whereabouts, but she let the secret slip.

Despite their efforts to remain secluded, news of their existence spread throughout the region. Local residents began making pilgrimages to the young, learned hieromonks—some seeking advice, others a blessing, and some requesting their prayers.

Through their virtues, piety, and knowledge, Arcady and Constantine convinced many of the eternal nature of the priesthood and persuaded them to accept the Belokrinitskaya Hierarchy. Simple folk rejoiced in their presence. Others, including bespopovtsy teachers, out of envy, slandered them. They were accused of greed, with rumors spreading that they had hidden money in their cell.

The elderly woman from Shaydura occasionally visited the hieromonks. She brought them alms, confessed her sins, and received Communion.

One summer, during Apostles’ Fast in 1856, she set out once again to see them, bringing her grandson along. But when they arrived, the cell was empty. On the table lay a mysterious note:

— Seek us beneath the overturned birch tree.

Sensing trouble, the woman called for the nearby villagers. They began searching the forest.

On the feast of the Holy Apostles Peter and Paul, June 29 (July 12 according to the modern calendar), the remains of the two ascetics were found, covered with birch branches.

Despite the summer heat, the bodies of the hieromonks remained completely incorrupt, except for their little fingers, which had decayed—an indication that their deaths had occurred long before they were discovered. The police launched an investigation into the murder.

A doctor was summoned to perform an autopsy on Arcady and Constantine. As he easily cut through their garments, his knife scraped against the iron chains beneath. Overcome with emotion, he cast aside his knife, weeping, and declared that he refused to desecrate the relics of the saints.

The brothers were buried on a plot of land donated by the same peasant, Shchukin, on the summit of a wooded hill, not far from their cell.

Before long, the murderer was found. During the investigation, he revealed that the ascetics had suffered a martyr’s death on January 18 (January 31 according to the modern calendar) in 1856, meaning their incorrupt bodies had remained untouched for half a year before being discovered.

During his trial, the criminal confessed that he had been convinced by the bespopovtsy teachers that the hermits had hidden great riches in their hut:

— I thought they had gold!

As he killed one of the monks, the other did not resist but only prayed:

— Lord, my brother is being slain. Soon I, too, shall be killed. Forgive us, O Lord!

That year, the winter had been harsh. The ground was so deeply frozen that digging a grave was impossible. Instead, the murderer covered Arcady and Constantine with snow and dry birch branches.

The miraculous preservation of their bodies for months astounded the local people, leading many bespopovtsy, who had previously rejected the priesthood, to join the Church.

From this time, the veneration of the ascetics as holy servants of God began. Soon, a spring emerged beside their grave. Residents of nearby villages and hamlets often reported seeing two candles burning at the burial site during the night—Arcady and Constantine continued to pray for humanity.

Pilgrims began flocking to their grave—not only popovtsy, but even bespopovtsy and Nikonians. Through the prayers of the saintly ascetics, numerous miraculous healings were reported.

At the beginning of the 20th century, the bespopovtsy exhumed the hieromonks’ grave to examine their remains. The bodies were still incorrupt! After witnessing this, many bespopovtsy joined the Church, including three of their nastavniks (elders). Two of them later became priests themselves.

In 1923, Soviet atheists desecrated the grave. Once again, the bodies of Arcady and Constantine were found to be untouched! In their sacrilegious outrage, the desecrators defiled the relics. After this, the incorrupt bodies finally began to decay, and the miraculous spring lost much of its former flow.

In May 1996, when Metropolitan Alimpiy (Gusev) visited the hermits’ grave, a new examination of the relics was conducted. Their remains had been reduced to bones, and the chains they had worn were found in the form of a rusted iron belt. At that time, part of the relics were placed in a new coffin and reburied in their original location. Another portion was placed in a reliquary and transferred to the village of Shamary, to the Church of the Nativity of St. John the Baptist.

In October 2005, a Church Council officially declared the veneration of Saints Arcady and Constantine to be observed throughout Russia. Today, prayers to them are offered across the country.

A Description of a Bespopovtsy Prayer House

(From the book by F. V. Gladkov, “A Tale of Childhood”)

Behind our yard, not far from the ravine, stood the molennaya—a five-walled wooden house with a shingled roof, crowned with an eight-pointed cross at the ridge. A tall porch with carved wooden pillars led to the entrance. The pine logs and shingles on the roof and porch had turned a bluish-gray from years of rain.

The house always stood with its iron shutters closed. Once painted green, they had rusted over time.

Every Saturday, the shutters would open, and smoke would billow from the chimney, which was topped with an ornate tin cupola. The young women would go in and out with buckets and rags, pouring out dirty water into the ravine. On Sundays, the molennaya gazed out across the meadow with its pale-green windows. But on blue Saturday evenings, bright clusters of candlelight could be seen through the windows from afar.

The prayer house was built like a simple village hut—wide and spacious, with a small entryway where worshippers left their coats, and a bright, high-ceilinged prayer hall that could hold up to a hundred people. Along the side walls stood wooden benches, while the front wall was completely covered with ancient icons and large, cast-bronze eight-pointed crosses. At the center stood a grand Deisis icon, a sacred relic two hundred years old, passed down from generation to generation.

All the icons, both large and small, were of ancient origin, and the books were from the “pure” printings of pre-Nikonian times. These books, with their thick wooden covers bound in leather and filled with colorful bookmarks, lay on special shelves in the front corners.

There were no banners, no decorations on the icons or the walls—such frivolous “playthings” of ornamentation were only found in the Nikonian temple, which had fallen into papist heresy. Here, everything was austere, simple, and strict, like in a skete.

The men, dressed in gray tunics, stood at the front. The women, clad in dark sarafans and black headscarves with paisley borders, stood at the back. The children, watched over by the women, clustered behind them. They were only allowed to step outside during the service if they became tired or misbehaved—whispering, nudging each other, or stifling giggles. In such cases, they were led out of the molennaya as punishment, like mischievous troublemakers.

Bishop Constantine

Lying is one of the most disgraceful sins. Yet at the same time, it is one of the most widespread. Sadly, people lie often and about many things—both great and small.

Everyone lies, but Christians must not. For the Gospel tells us that the father of lies is the devil:

“He that is of the devil, his lusts will he do.” (John 8:44)

Alas, even among Christians, this shameful sin is common. Yet there is no sin that cannot be cleansed through repentance, tears, prayer, and fasting. A true example of repentance is Bishop Constantine.

The future hierarch, Kozma Sergeyevich Korovin, was born in 1816 at the Verkhnetagil Plant, into a family of Old Believers.

His father was a wealthy man and an influential figure at the plant. Because of this, Kozma was spared from hard labor. However, from childhood, he suffered from poor health. He grew up a quiet and sickly boy.

Korovin received a good education. In his youth, he worked as a clerk at the factory office. In his spare time, he devoted himself to reading, copying, and binding church books.

He was an intelligent and well-read Christian, inclined toward solitude and contemplation. He never married and lived in a separate cell within his parents’ home until his death.

Through his piety and knowledge, Korovin drew the attention of Bishop Gennady of Perm. In 1859, Gennady tonsured Kozma into monasticism, giving him the name Constantine, and ordained him a priest. Thus, the name Hieromonk Constantine entered the annals of the Russian Church.

In one of the rooms of his family’s house, he arranged a molennaya (prayer room), where he secretly conducted services attended by neighbors.

Meanwhile, the authorities had begun a nationwide crackdown on Old Believer clergy. On the feast of St. Nicholas the Wonderworker, December 6, 1862, Bishop Gennady was arrested in the house of the merchant Chuvakov in Yekaterinburg.

During these same days, significant events were unfolding at the Miass Plant. There, Bishop Paphnutius (Shikin) of Kazan had arrived, entrusted by the Church leadership with the task of consecrating two hieromonks as bishops.

On December 6, 1862, the first to be consecrated was Savvaty, the future Archbishop of Moscow. Two days later, on December 8, Paphnutius and Savvaty consecrated Constantine, the recluse of Verkhny Tagil.

Savvaty was assigned to oversee the Old Believer communities in Siberia, while Constantine was appointed to the parishes around Orenburg. However, due to his weak health, he was unable to travel to his diocese and instead returned home.

Soon, the police began hunting for Bishop Constantine. The first close call came on March 15, 1864. On that day, he and his assistant, Archimandrite Vincent (Nosov), were celebrating the Divine Liturgy in the home of the merchant Chausov in the Nizhnetagil Plant.

Constantine managed to leave before the police arrived. However, Vincent was captured.

The officers mistook Vincent for the bishop and sent him to prison in Perm. Meanwhile, the real hierarch fled to Verkhny Tagil. There, on May 3, 1864, he was finally apprehended.

The capture of Constantine was carried out with all the tactics of an expert hunting expedition. First, a Nikonian priest reported to the authorities that the Old Believer bishop was hiding in his own home. Then, an informant was sent to confirm the bishop’s presence in his cell.

A heavily armed detachment was dispatched to Verkhny Tagil. All roads leading out of the village were blocked, and ambushes were set along the paths.

Early in the morning of May 3, police officers, soldiers, and Cossacks surrounded the Korovin household. The commotion awakened the bishop’s sisters. Looking out the window and seeing the gathered crowd, they immediately realized that something was wrong.

The Cossacks pounded on the gate, demanding to be let in. But the sisters refused to open it. Then the Cossacks propped a ladder against the fence and climbed over into the courtyard.

Hearing voices outside and unaware of what was happening, Constantine stepped outside. He froze in shock at the sight of the police. They pushed past him into his cell and began a search. Then they moved on to inspect the house, the molennaya, the cellar, and the outbuildings.

Among Constantine’s belongings, they found letters in which he was addressed as a bishop. The authorities placed him under arrest and transported him, via Yekaterinburg, to Perm. He remained in prison for two years while the investigation was underway.

During interrogations, Constantine faltered in fear and denied his status, claiming that he was merely a layman. However, the letters seized during the search were presented to him as evidence. Moreover, Archimandrite Vincent identified him as a bishop during a face-to-face confrontation.

Constantine’s weakness became known to other Old Believer bishops, who wrote to him, urging him not to renounce his episcopal dignity before the authorities.

He was finally released in June 1866, but only after being forced to sign a declaration stating that he would no longer call himself a bishop. A year later, his case was officially closed. In November 1867, the court found him guilty of operating a molennaya but dismissed further punishment.

The weight of his conscience tormented Constantine. He wrote to Archbishop Anthony, confessing his great sin—the renunciation of his episcopal office. Anthony granted him absolution.

Yet the time in prison had crushed Constantine’s will. He withdrew completely from all Church matters. However, the ecclesiastical leadership insisted that he resume his pastoral duties. By the mid-1870s, Constantine once again took up his role in serving the Church.

Life in Verkhny Tagil was difficult for the bishop. He was unable to leave his home, as he remained under constant surveillance by both the police and the Nikonian clergy. Therefore, he had to carry out his ecclesiastical duties with the utmost caution.

On September 18, 1881, Constantine passed away, having taken the Great Schema shortly before his death.

From Yekaterinburg, Priest John Popov and Hieromonk Tryphilius (Bukhalov) arrived for the funeral. However, Tryphilius harbored ill feelings toward the deceased, believing that Constantine, by refusing to acknowledge himself as a bishop, had effectively renounced his episcopal office.

By the time John and Tryphilius reached Verkhny Tagil, the bishop’s body had already stiffened. Tryphilius insisted that Constantine should be buried as a simple monk. But the gathered faithful pleaded for him to be laid to rest as a bishop.

At last, according to Church custom, Tryphilius proceeded to vest the deceased in episcopal garments.

Then a miracle occurred. The rigid limbs of Constantine’s body suddenly became soft and flexible, as if he were still alive.

The sight overwhelmed Tryphilius. He wept in repentance for his hostility toward the departed and kept repeating:

— The man is alive!

Bishop Constantine was buried in the Old Believer cemetery in Verkhny Tagil. A wooden cross was placed over his grave, along with a stone slab. A century ago, his resting place was still visible.

Serapion of Cheremshan

Mother Volga, our great river, unites many cities, renowned not only in the history of the Russian state but also in the history of the Russian Church.

All along the river, Old Believer parishes still exist today—in Rzhev and Yaroslavl, in Kostroma and Kazan, in Samara and Saratov, in Volgograd and Astrakhan. One of the cities on the Volga is Nizhny Novgorod, which holds special significance in the history of Old Belief.

In the lower reaches of the Volga, where grain trade flourished, even small towns such as Syzran and Khvalynsk, Balakovo and Volsk were known for their large congregations and magnificent churches. From these places, the wealthiest merchants often moved to Moscow and St. Petersburg. Among them were the Old Believer Maltsev family from Balakovo, who traded across the world. It was said that they set grain prices even in London.

On the tributaries of the Volga—the Kerzhenets and Irgiz—stood famous monasteries and hermitages. The successors of the Irgiz monastic communities were the cloisters on the Cheremshan River near the city of Khvalynsk, nestled at the foot of picturesque hills in an area abundant with healing springs.

The great ascetic and man of prayer, Venerable Serapion, was called the “Sun of Cheremshan.”

Semyon Ivanovich Abachin, the future saint, was born in 1823 in the Nizhny Novgorod village of Murashkino, near Grigorovo—the birthplace of Protopriest Avvakum. Later, his father, the merchant Ivan Ivanovich Abachin, relocated the family to Saratov.

Semyon’s inclination toward spiritual life appeared in childhood. Other boys on the street mocked him, calling him a “priest.” He would hide from them in the cellar and read church books. At the age of eighteen, Semyon left his family home and set off on a pilgrimage.

He visited Old Believer communities in Turkey and Austria. In the monastery of the village of Russkaya Slava, he took monastic vows and was given the name Serapion.

Though Old Believers lived freely abroad, the monk longed to return to his homeland. In 1862, he and several other monks resettled in Russia, on the Cheremshan River.

The elders settled on an estate seven versts from Khvalynsk, where a watermill belonged to the merchant woman Fekla Yevdokimovna Tolstikova. A secret church was established there, and Bishop Athanasius (Kulibin) of Saratov ordained Serapion as a priest.

Everyone assumed that the monks were simply mill workers, and for several years, no one disturbed them. But eventually, the local Synodal clergy discovered the existence of the hermitage and reported it to the police. A lengthy investigation began in 1865.

Only in 1873 were Tolstikova and the monks acquitted. However, they had spent several years in prison, suffering humiliating punishments. The hermits were even sentenced to public flogging. But the merchants of Khvalynsk managed to spare them from disgrace. As the shackled monks were led to the town square, where everything was prepared for the beating, a messenger arrived from St. Petersburg with an imperial decree canceling the punishment.

Serapion returned to Cheremshan and founded a new monastery. Tolstikova took monastic vows, receiving the name Felitsata, and also moved to Cheremshan, where she established a women’s monastery. From all over Russia, pious Christians seeking a righteous life began to gather there.

The local merchants donated ancient icons and books, money, and land to the monasteries. By the end of the 19th century, Cheremshan was home to several monastic communities with stone churches and cells, orchards, beehives, ponds, watermills, and windmills. The monasteries sustained themselves and the surrounding region with bread, apples, honey, and wax.

A large two-story church with a dome and a cross was built at Serapion’s monastery. However, the authorities found this unacceptable, and the dome and cross had to be removed.

Serapion was the tireless leader of Cheremshan. Celebrating the Divine Liturgy daily, he still found time for administrative matters and spiritual instruction—explaining the Bible and the writings of the Holy Fathers and defending the Old Faith. No one ever saw him idle or resting.

If any of the brethren fell ill, the abbot would leave everything to visit and comfort the ailing monk. Every day, dozens of beggars waited outside the church for the elder to emerge. No one was ever turned away without alms.

If someone took advantage of the archimandrite’s charity, and the monastery treasurer reminded him of it, Serapion would only smile and say:

— God be with him, he must need it. And when we are in need, the Lord will provide.

The abbot was gentle and kind with everyone, yet strict with himself—he wore chains of asceticism and observed a strict fast. He did not even drink tea, but only water infused with raisins. Many times, he was asked to accept the rank of bishop, but in his humility, he declined this high honor.

Gradually, the archimandrite’s health deteriorated. Yet he refused medical help, believing bodily treatment to be unnecessary for a monk. In early 1898, Serapion became gravely ill. Then he took the Great Schema. Having received anointing and partaken of Holy Communion, the ascetic peacefully departed this life on the morning of January 7, 1898.

About a thousand local residents and countless visitors gathered for his funeral. He was buried behind the altar of the monastery church, in a crypt. The air there was damp, yet Serapion’s body remained incorrupt.

In 1909, the relics of the ascetic were examined. The fabric covering them had decayed and was tearing apart. The archimandrite’s hands, which were folded on his chest, were covered with a white coating. When it was wiped away, his hands were found to be dark yellow in color. His legs, sides, and chest appeared the same.

The monastery brethren kept this miracle a secret. Nevertheless, many knew about it, and many venerated Serapion as a saint of God. His holy relics could undoubtedly have become a treasure of the Russian Church, but the tragic events of 1917 prevented this.

The Soviet atheists destroyed the monastic communities on the Cheremshan. Shortly before the men’s monastery was closed, Venerable Serapion appeared in a dream to the abbot and the monks, commanding them to move his relics to another place.

They were transferred to Felitsata’s monastery and placed in a crypt. When the women’s monastery faced the threat of closure, the nuns buried the ascetic’s remains in the monastery cemetery.

In 1927, the last monastic community on the Cheremshan was shut down. The monastery buildings were repurposed as rest homes and sanatoriums. The site of the men’s monastery cemetery was sacrilegiously turned into a dance floor. The men’s monastery church was converted into a dining hall for the sanatorium.

The relics of Saint Serapion vanished without a trace.

Bishop Arseny

In the land of Vladimir, many secret priestless Old Believers had lived since ancient times. Most of them were officially considered members of the Synodal Church. They attended its churches, married there, and baptized their children, yet at home, they prayed using pre-Nikonian books.

In 1840, a son named Anisim was born to one such secret Old Believer, the peasant Vasily Shvetsov, who lived in the village of Ilyina Gora. At first, the boy was taught literacy by elder priestless believers. Then, at the age of ten, he was sent to a state school for three years, where he excelled beyond all his classmates.

After finishing school, Anisim continued to visit the elders. He dreamed of an ascetic life and asked them for a blessing to live in a secluded cell. The elders agreed. But he could not expect his family to approve, so he decided to leave in secret. However, he did not want to depart without his parents’ blessing—he would not even drink water without it.

One day, during the hay harvest, he was sent home to return a horse. He decided to use this moment to leave for the hermits. Entering the house, he poured himself a mug of kvass, approached his mother, and said:

— Mother, bless me for Christ’s sake.

Seeing the mug in his hands, the woman answered:

— God bless you.

Anisim set down the mug and, with his parents’ blessing, left for the elders, who led him into the forest, where the young ascetic settled in an underground hut.

When his family realized he was missing, they assumed he had gone to the elders. A week passed, and he did not return. The Shvetsovs went to the elders, but they claimed not to know where Anisim was. Grieving and unaware of their son’s fate, his parents decided that he must have drowned.

A year later, the young man began to pity his family and decided to see what was happening at home. Coming to the village, he saw that his family was alive and well, then turned back.

On the way, he encountered a neighbor who recognized him. She ran to the Shvetsovs and told them she had seen Anisim. His mother ran after him, crying and shouting. But he walked on without turning back. Seeing that his mother was gasping for breath and falling behind, he took pity on her and stopped.

She caught up to her son, threw her arms around him, and sobbed:

— Come home! I will not let you go anywhere again!

Anisim begged her to let him return to the hermits. But his mother was adamant, and he returned to his family home.

When the time came for him to serve in the army, the Shvetsovs, as was common at the time, hired a “volunteer” to take Anisim’s place in exchange for a payment. However, the cost was so high that the family had to go into debt, which had to be worked off. To help repay it, Anisim took a job as a clerk for his fellow villagers, the Pershin brothers.

They lived in the town of Kovrov and were engaged in the grain and fish trade. The merchants owned a magnificent library, which Anisim was allowed to use. As he read spiritual books, he began to question the priestless doctrine that the priesthood had ceased. He started praying that God would reveal to him the true path to salvation.

One day, one of the Pershin brothers traveled to Moscow and took Anisim with him. While the merchant attended to business, the young clerk set out to find the true priesthood.

By chance, someone directed him to the residence of Archbishop Anthony. The archbishop welcomed the young man and spoke with him about the Belokrinitskaya hierarchy. The conversation made a deep impression on Anisim. When he returned to Kovrov, he was a convinced supporter of the priesthood.

The Pershin brothers noticed the change in him and tried to persuade him otherwise. They often debated, but their mother, listening to their discussions, shook her head and told her sons:

— Anisim knows more than you, and you will not defeat him.

In 1865, after working off the family’s debt to the merchants, Anisim immediately traveled to Moscow, where he was formally received into the Church by Archbishop Anthony. The archbishop offered him a position as his scribe, and Anisim accepted, living under the archbishop’s care for sixteen years.

While in Moscow, Shvetsov diligently read books, studied Greek, and improved his knowledge of Russian grammar. He despised wasting time and would often say:

— Our time is precious; to neglect it is bad, but to misuse it for evil is even worse.

Thanks to his extensive knowledge, Anisim Vasilyevich quickly rose to prominence as one of the foremost defenders of the Old Faith. His pious life earned him universal respect.

In 1881, Archbishop Anthony passed away. Then, in 1883, with the blessing of Archbishop Savvaty (Levshin), Shvetsov traveled abroad to establish a printing press, as Old Believers in Russia were prohibited from publishing books.

Upon returning to his homeland in 1885, Anisim Vasilyevich took monastic vows and was given the name Arseny. Soon after, he was ordained to the priesthood. Following the example of the ancient apostles, Hieromonk Arseny traveled extensively, preaching the Old Faith throughout Russia.

In 1897, Bishop Viktor (Lyutikov) of the Ural and Orenburg dioceses passed away. The Ural Cossacks unanimously chose Arseny as his successor. With the unanimous agreement of all bishops and the blessing of Archbishop Savvaty, Hieromonk Arseny was consecrated to the episcopate on October 24, 1897.

The new bishop had no free time. Winter and summer, day and night, he was occupied with church affairs. Each year, he traveled across his diocese, dedicating months to visiting his flock. He also devoted much effort to writing and maintaining an extensive correspondence.

In 1906, after Christians were granted freedom of religion, a printing press was established in Uralsk with the saint’s blessing. It became the first Old Believer publishing house in Russia. Specially crafted ornate initials were made for its books, making them unmistakable in appearance.

In early September 1908, the bishop fell ill. While visiting the printing press, he caught a chill, having forgotten to put on his galoshes. The next day, he took to his bed. He had been feeling unwell for some time but had fought through his illness. This time, however, he refused medical help, despite previously accepting it when needed.

Sensing that his end was near, Bishop Arseny received Holy Communion and peacefully passed away on the morning of September 10, 1908. His death was mourned by the entire Church.

After his passing, it became clear that the only wealth he had left behind was his library. There was no money. Though many pious benefactors had made donations to him, he had given everything away to struggling parishes and impoverished priests.

Having left behind no worldly wealth, Saint Arseny entrusted to us something far more valuable—his numerous writings, which serve the Church’s benefit, and the many capable disciples he nurtured.

Defenders of the Faith

In modern times, the word “nachetchik” (a person well-versed in religious texts) may seem archaic and rigid. The dictionary defines it as “a person who has read a lot but is only superficially familiar with everything.”

Yet, just a century ago, the word “nachetchik” was spoken with pride, and many Christians considered it an honor to be called one.

This term referred to Old Believer nachetchiks, who were highly respected and influential among the faithful. Traditionally, a nachetchik was a learned man, an expert in theology, history, and church canons.

The word itself comes from “reading” and indicates that a nachetchik acquired knowledge through books and self-education. A nachetchik was expected not only to read books but to memorize them and be able to interpret them. This was essential for enlightening others and defending the faith in theological debates.

The first nachetchiks appeared among Christians in Ancient Rome. During times of persecution, many believers refused to attend pagan schools and academies. Instead, they studied the Bible independently or under the guidance of experienced teachers and engaged in debates with pagans and heretics.

These ancient nachetchiks were called “autodidacts,” a Greek word meaning “self-taught.”

All renowned theologians and scholars of early Russian Christianity were nachetchiks. In those days, there were no specialized schools for clergy—knowledge could only be obtained from books. Large libraries existed in monasteries, so most Russian nachetchiks were monks. Many people intentionally joined monasteries to receive an education and immerse themselves in sacred literature.

Among the most famous nachetchiks of Ancient Rus was Saint Gennady, Archbishop of Novgorod (who passed away in 1505). Through his efforts, the first complete Bible in the Slavonic language was compiled. Another renowned nachetchik was St. Joseph of Volokolamsk (d. 1515), who authored The Enlightener, a major work against various heresies.

All major Russian church figures of the 17th century were also nachetchiks. For example, Patriarch Nikon and Archpriest Avvakum possessed extraordinary memories and knew countless books by heart.

After the Schism, nachetchiks became unnecessary in the Synodal Church, where seminaries and academies were established to train clergy. These institutions produced missionaries—preachers tasked with combating the Old Faith. They traveled across Russia, engaging in public debates with Old Believers.

But out-arguing the Old Believers was no easy task!

Just a century ago, they had a reputation as unparalleled orators and learned scholars. These self-taught intellectuals—merchant clerks and simple peasants—could easily defeat a graduate of a theological academy in debate.

This was all thanks to nachetchik training, which the Old Believers preserved. Unable to establish schools due to government persecution, they were forced to acquire knowledge independently through books.

In villages, early education was provided by home tutors—pious elderly men and women. Children would gather at their homes to learn the alphabet and begin reading syllables. After mastering the alphabet, they moved on to the Psalter, the Book of Hours, or the Chasoslov.

In the morning, upon arriving at the teacher’s home, children would bow three times before the icons and once at the teacher’s feet before taking their seats. The bench where they sat was usually placed by a window to allow more light. As they settled in, the house filled with a cacophony of voices.

There were no formal lessons like today. Each child received an individual assignment from the teacher based on their level of progress. One memorized the alphabet, another practiced forming syllables, a third read words aloud. Some students recited psalms and prayers from books. For the lazy and disobedient, birch rods were kept at hand.

Each time a student advanced to a new book, they would bring the teacher a gift—a pot of porridge cooked in milk, wrapped in a cloth along with a small payment. The porridge was shared among the students, while the teacher kept the money and cloth.

The entire village knew: if Vanya and Masha were walking down the street carrying a pot of porridge, it meant they had mastered the alphabet and were beginning the Psalter.

As the student grew older, they could choose to continue their education independently or under the guidance of an experienced mentor—studying the Bible, the writings of the Church Fathers, and the works of Old Believer theologians.

From among the common people emerged gifted defenders of Orthodoxy, whose knowledge came from books. With both words and writings, they successfully refuted the lies and slanders of Synodal missionaries. The best nachetchiks earned the respect of the people.

Among the most renowned nachetchiki, we must mention Bishop Arseny (Shvetsov), Illarion Georgievich Kabanov, who wrote under the name Ksenos, Mikhail Ivanovich Brilliantov, Dmitry Sergeyevich Varakin, Nikifor Dmitrievich Zenin, and Kliment Anfinogenovich Peretrukhin.

The students of Arseny included nachetchiki Fyodor Melnikov and Bishop Innokenty (Usov).

For greater effectiveness, the nachetchiki held annual congresses. At their first congress in Nizhny Novgorod in 1906, a decision was made to establish the Union of Old Believer Nachetchiki.

Its purpose was to defend and spread the Old Faith, develop the activities of the nachetchiki, support them in every possible way, conduct theological discussions, and publish theological and historical books.

After 1917, through the efforts of the Soviet atheists, the tradition of nachetchestvo was eradicated. Many of these folk theologians were either killed or forced to flee Russia.

Fyodor Yefimovich Melnikov (1874–1960)—the most well-known nachetchik of our time—was among those forced into exile. From a young age, he participated in religious disputes and always emerged victorious.

After 1917, he spoke in Moscow against the Bolsheviks and atheists. He was later forced into hiding in the forests of Siberia and the mountains of the Caucasus before secretly escaping to Romania, swimming across the border river Dniester at night.

Melnikov authored numerous books on the Old Faith, including A Brief History of the Ancient Orthodox (Old Believer) Church. This book is highly recommended for anyone wishing to deepen their knowledge of Russian Orthodoxy.

In modern Russia, there are essentially no nachetchiki in the traditional sense. Most Christians who defend Old Belief today have received higher education, meaning they can no longer be considered self-taught nachetchiki in the way they once were.

Russian Merchants

In the Russian Empire, the merchant class was composed not only of those engaged in buying and selling but also of industrialists and bankers. The prosperity and well-being of the country depended on them.

The largest entrepreneurs were Old Believers. The main wealth of Russia was concentrated in their hands. In the early 20th century, their names were widely known: the Kuznetsov family, owners of porcelain manufacturing; the Morozovs, textile magnates; and the Ryabushinskys, industrialists and bankers.

To be part of the merchant class, one had to be registered in one of three guilds. Merchants with a capital of at least 8,000 rubles were assigned to the third guild. Those with over 20,000 rubles were in the second guild. The first guild included those with over 50,000 rubles.

Entire industries and trades depended entirely on Old Believers: textile production, pottery manufacturing, grain and timber trade.

Railroads, shipping on the Volga, and oil fields in the Caspian Sea—all of these were owned by Old Believers. No major fair or industrial exhibition took place without their participation.

Old Believer industrialists never shunned technical innovations. Their factories used the most modern machinery. In 1904, Old Believer Dmitry Pavlovich Ryabushinsky (1882–1962) founded the world’s first aeronautical research institute. And in 1916, the Ryabushinsky family began construction of the Automobile Moscow Society (AMO) plant.

Old Believer merchants always remembered Christ’s words:

“Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal. But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal. For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.”

Even after amassing great wealth, merchants remained devoted children of the Ancient Orthodox Church. Wealth was never their ultimate goal. They willingly spent money on charity—almshouses, hospitals, maternity wards, orphanages, and schools.

For example, Moscow merchant of the first guild, Kozma Terentyevich Soldatenkov (1818–1901), was not only a devoted parishioner of the churches at the Rogozhskoye Cemetery but also a patron of the arts, a selfless publisher, and a generous benefactor.

He not only collected paintings by Russian artists and ancient icons but also built hospitals and almshouses in Moscow. The Soldatenkov Free Hospital for the Poor still exists today; it is now called the Botkin Hospital.

In their domestic life, merchants preserved the pious customs of their ancestors. The old-fashioned way of life of a Moscow merchant family is wonderfully depicted in Ivan Sergeyevich Shmelev’s book The Year of the Lord.

The writer’s great-grandmother, merchant Ustinya Vasilyevna Shmeleva, was an Old Believer but, during the persecutions under Nicholas I, joined the Synodal Church. However, many strict Old Believer traditions remained in the family.

In his book, Shmelev lovingly revives the image of his great-grandmother. Ustinya Vasilyevna did not eat meat for forty years, prayed day and night with a leather lestovka before an ancient reddish icon of the Crucifixion…

Those merchants who did not renounce the true faith were a firm bulwark of Orthodoxy. Their funds supported Old Believer churches, monasteries, and schools. Almost every merchant’s home had a prayer room, and sometimes a priest secretly resided there.

A description has been preserved of the molenna in the home of Moscow first-guild merchant Ivan Petrovich Butikov (1800–1874). It was arranged in the attic and had all the attributes of a proper church.

Archbishop Anthony often celebrated the Liturgy there. And he did so not only for the merchant’s family but for all Old Believers. The entrance to the house church was open to all during services.

On the western wall of the molenna, there were three windows. The eastern wall was adorned with icons. A portable church stood slightly apart from the wall—a tent made of pink damask fabric with a cross at the top, with royal doors and a northern deacon’s door made of gilded brocade with pink flowers.

On either side of the royal doors, several small icons hung from hooks. Banners stood to the right and left of the tent. In the center of the tent stood the altar, covered with pink damask fabric.

However, no matter how wealthy they were, merchants had no opportunity to openly support Old Belief. In matters of spiritual life, the rich were just as powerless as their simple brothers in faith, deprived of many freedoms.

At any time, the police and officials could storm a merchant’s home, break into the molenna, desecrate it, seize clergy, and send them to prison.

For example, on Sunday, September 5, 1865, in the home of merchantess Tolstikova on the Cheremshan River, a terrible event took place.

A Liturgy was being celebrated in the house church. The Gospel had already been read when suddenly there was a deafening crash of breaking shutters and windows. Through the shattered window, the official Vinogradov climbed into the molenna, accompanied by five policemen.

The official was drunk. Cursing, he interrupted the Liturgy. The priest begged to be allowed to finish the service, but Vinogradov entered the altar, seized the chalice with the communion wine, drank from it, and began eating the prosphora.

The priest and the faithful were horrified by such sacrilege and did not know what to do. Meanwhile, Vinogradov sat on the altar, continued swearing, and lit a cigarette from the church candles.

The official ordered the arrest of the priest and all worshippers, sending them to prison. The priest was not even allowed to remove his vestments—he was taken straight to the dungeon in full liturgical attire. Tolstikova’s molenna was ransacked by the police.

The only way to avoid such sacrilege and disgrace was bribery—a necessary but unavoidable evil.

It is known, for example, that in the late 18th century, Moscow’s Fedoseyevtsy saved the Preobrazhenskoye Cemetery from destruction with a bribe. They presented the head of the capital’s police with a pie filled with 10,000 gold rubles.

However, bribes did not always help. Not everything could be bought with money! No amount of millions could buy Old Believers the freedom to conduct worship according to pre-Nikonian books, to build churches, ring bells, publish newspapers and journals, or legally establish schools.

The long-desired freedom for Old Believers only came after the 1905 Revolution.

On Salvation in the World

(From a letter by Hieromonk Arseny to Priest Stefan Labzin)

Most honorable Priest Stefan Fyodorovich,

I have just now, on July 13, received your letter regarding Anna Dmitrievna’s question. You asked for a response by the 11th, but you did not indicate when you sent it. I am now in doubt whether my response has arrived in time or if it may already be unnecessary. Nevertheless, I answer just in case.

If Anna Dmitrievna has been taught by some preacher that no one in the world—not even, let’s say, a maiden—can be saved, then I cannot recognize such a teaching as pious, no matter who said it or in what book it is written.

If, on the other hand, someone tells me that one cannot escape temptations in the world, I will reply: neither can one escape them in the wilderness. If perhaps they are encountered less often there, they are all the more tormenting. But in any case, the struggle against temptations must be unceasing, both in the world and in the wilderness, until our very death. And if they drag someone into the abyss here or there, there is still a reliable lifeboat—repentance—to escape with hope in God’s mercy.

Thus, in my view, one cannot deny salvation to any person in any place. Adam was in paradise and sinned before God. Yet Lot, in Sodom—a city sinful before God—remained righteous. While seeking a more peaceful place is not without benefit, one cannot deny that salvation is possible wherever the Lord reigns.

If Anna Dmitrievna gave a vow to go to Tomsk solely because she believed she could not be saved here, then that vow is irrational. If she agrees with this and wishes to remain in her former place, read for her the prayer of absolution for her ill-considered vow and assign her a period of prostrations to the Mother of God. God will not hold her to such a vow.

But if she truly wishes to find a more suitable life for her salvation, then let it be her own decision. Do not overly restrain her freedom, regardless of how useful she may be to you. If you are worthy, God may provide another assistant, no worse than she.

Hieromonk Arseny
July 13, 1894

Vasiliy Surikov

The enlightened Russian of the 19th century could judge the Old Faith primarily through the works of Synodal Church writers. In these writings, Old Belief was declared “superstition,” stemming from the age-old ignorance of the Russian people.

At that time, it was customary to speak disparagingly of Old Believers, calling them “schismatics,” “bigots,” and “superstitious.” Naturally, such ignorance was deemed unworthy of the attention of high society.

However, during the reign of Nicholas I, public opinion about Old Belief began to change. A fascination with all things Russian emerged, particularly with the heritage of past centuries—ancient iconography, architecture, and literature.

Educated people turned their gaze away from contemporary Europe and toward Ancient Rus. The nobility looked closely at peasants, townsfolk, and merchants—the simple folk who had preserved the legacy of their ancestors.

Scholars explored the wondrous world of folk songs, tales, and epics. Collectors hunted for old books and icons. Among fashionable young men, beards, traditional shirts, and polished boots became popular.

Particular attention was given to Old Believers—the faithful guardians of Holy Rus’ treasures. Their manuscripts and art began to be studied seriously.

In 1861, The Life of Archpriest Avvakum was published for the first time in The Chronicles of Russian Literature and Antiquities. The following year, it was printed as a separate book.

The greatest minds of Russia became acquainted with The Life. Not everyone agreed with Avvakum’s views, but all appreciated his expressive language.

Ivan Sergeyevich Turgenev exclaimed:

— The Life of Archpriest Avvakum—now that is a book! Avvakum wrote in such a way that every writer should study his style. I often reread his work.

Leo Tolstoy spoke of the archpriest with great respect and affection. He read The Life aloud to his household and wept as he did so.

In the second half of the 19th century, many writers were drawn to the tragic history of the Church schism and the steadfast way of life of Old Believers. Numerous literary works were dedicated to them. Old Believers appeared in the books of Dostoevsky, Tolstoy, Turgenev, Leskov, and Mamin-Sibiryak.

Perhaps the most significant novels about Old Belief were In the Forests and On the Hills by Pavel Ivanovich Melnikov (Andrei Pechersky).

The imagery of Ancient Rus and the Old Faith was also vividly depicted in painting by artists such as Bilibin, Kustodiev, Miloradovich, Nesterov, and the Vasnetsov brothers.

But Vasily Ivanovich Surikov (1848–1916) holds a completely unique place among them.

This great Russian painter was not an Old Believer himself. However, the masterpieces he created portray history with astonishing vividness, accuracy, and truth.

Two of Surikov’s paintings are directly dedicated to Old Belief—The Morning of the Streltsy Execution and Boyarina Morozova. Both are housed in Moscow’s Tretyakov Gallery.

Surikov completed The Morning of the Streltsy Execution in 1881. The painting depicts the 1698 execution of the old Moscow military corps. The Streltsy rebellion against Peter I had failed. The insurgents were condemned to death, executed by the young tsar and his henchmen.

What do we see in the painting? Red Square. St. Basil’s Cathedral. The Kremlin walls. Autumn mud. Gallows. The tsar sits on horseback, looking at the crowd with hatred.

The crowd buzzes around carts carrying the condemned. Peter’s soldiers, dressed in new European uniforms, lead the rebels to their deaths.

The Streltsy mothers, wives, and children weep as they bid farewell to their sons, husbands, and fathers. Foreigners watch with curiosity.

Among the rebels were many Old Believers. Therefore, Surikov’s painting can be considered a monument to those Christians who believed they could defend their right to pray as their fathers and grandfathers had—with the power of the sword…

In 1887, Surikov completed Boyarina Morozova. This painting brought him worldwide fame and eternal remembrance from grateful descendants.

The writer Garshin correctly observed:
— Surikov’s painting astonishingly captures this remarkable woman. Anyone who knows her tragic story, I am certain, will forever be captivated by the artist’s vision and will be unable to imagine Feodosia Prokopievna any other way than as she appears in his painting.

The foundation for Surikov’s painting was a passage from the life of Boyarynya Morozova.

After her interrogation in the Kremlin, the nun Feodora was placed on a sled and taken to prison. As they drove her past the tsar’s chambers, thinking that the sovereign was watching her disgrace from his quarters, the martyr, with the clinking of her chains, blessed herself with the sign of the cross and raised her hand towards the tsar’s windows, displaying the two-fingered sign.

A crowded street. The blue snow. The sled screeches and creaks in the frost. The people part. Men, women, children.

Right before us, sitting barefoot on the snow in rags and chains, is a holy fool. Behind him stands a wandering pilgrim, gripping his staff, his face dark with sorrow. An elderly beggar woman falls to her knees in the snowdrift. Women bow and wipe away tears with the edges of their ornate scarves. Two merchants in expensive fur coats and hats laugh spitefully.

At whom are they laughing?

At Holy Rus. At the conscience of the Russian people. At the last ray of the sun of true faith, flickering as the Moscow Tsardom fades. At the tsar’s own kinswoman, the first noblewoman, Feodosia Prokopievna Morozova.

There she sits on the sled. Her black monastic garb emphasizes the pallor of her face.

Morozova’s face is undoubtedly the most striking impression of the painting. Surikov struggled to find it. He later recounted:

— I painted the crowd first, and her afterward. And no matter how I painted her face, the crowd overpowered it. It was very difficult to find her face. I searched for a long time, but every face seemed too small—it disappeared in the crowd.

After a long search, the artist finally found the face he needed in an Old Believer woman from the Urals who had come to Moscow:

— I painted her portrait in the garden in just two hours. And as soon as I placed her in the painting—she conquered them all…

Morozova’s hands and feet are shackled. With difficulty, she raises her right hand in the two-fingered sign of the cross.

For the ancient cross, for apostolic tradition, for refusing to pray according to the new books of Patriarch Nikon, for loyalty to the ways of her ancestors, Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich sends Boyarynya Morozova to prison—to cruel torture and a slow death by starvation.

And not only her. Thousands of the best people of Russia were sent to prisons and exile, tortured and executed, burned at the stake, beheaded, and hanged. Thousands suffered and perished for the unchanging Orthodoxy, for the Old Faith, for the ancient piety.

The Golden Age

In the Russian Empire, no fewer than 15 million Old Believers lived, and according to some sources, up to a third of all Great Russians adhered to the Old Faith.

By the 19th century, the need to grant Old Believers religious freedom had become evident. In a century overshadowed by wars, conspiracies, and assassinations, Christians repeatedly demonstrated their sincere loyalty to the Russian sovereigns.

It was no coincidence that in the early 20th century, Sergei Yulyevich Witte, the head of the government at the time, wrote that Old Believers in Russia always constituted “the most loyal class to their tsar and homeland.”

One of many examples of this loyal sentiment occurred when Emperor Alexander II was assassinated on March 1, 1881. The parishioners of the Rogozhskoye Cemetery requested permission from the authorities to swear allegiance to the new sovereign. Permission was granted, and after a moleben in the Nativity Cathedral, the clergy and laity took the oath to Alexander III.

During his reign, legislation regarding Old Believers was somewhat relaxed. The law of May 3, 1883, allowed them to hold public worship services according to the pre-Nikonian books, but with severe restrictions—no bell ringing, no processions, and no clerical vestments. Old Believers were also permitted to have passports and, with the authorities’ approval, to restore their churches, something that had been prohibited since 1826.

Under this law, on May 15, 1883, the anniversary of Alexander III’s accession to the throne, a portable church was installed in the Pokrovsky Cathedral at the Rogozhskoye Cemetery, where public liturgies began to be held. However, in 1884, Moscow authorities prohibited the celebration of the liturgy in cemetery churches.

It became clear that Alexander III was not willing to grant Old Believers full religious freedom. They finally received it only after the Revolution of 1905–1907.

The revolution began with Bloody Sunday on January 9, 1905. On that day, thousands of workers in St. Petersburg marched peacefully toward the tsar’s palace to present Emperor Nicholas II with a petition regarding their grievances.

The workers carried banners and icons, with portraits of the sovereign at the front of the procession. However, Nicholas was not in St. Petersburg that day. Soldiers guarding the palace opened fire on the unarmed demonstrators. Many were killed or wounded.

All of Russia was outraged by this atrocity. It became the spark that ignited the first Russian revolution. The tsarist government, fearing the unrest sweeping across the country, quickly sought the support of the millions of Old Believers, known for their loyalty to the state.

The first sign of religious freedom came with the unsealing of the altars of the Rogozhskoye Cemetery churches, which had been locked since 1856.

On the eve of Easter, April 16, 1905, Prince Dmitry Borisovich Golitsyn, an imperial confidant, arrived at the cemetery. In the Pokrovsky Cathedral, he read aloud the tsar’s decree:

“I command that on this day, as we enter into the bright feast, the seals be removed from the altars of the Old Believer chapels at Moscow’s Rogozhskoye Cemetery, and that henceforth, the Old Believer clergy officiating there be permitted to conduct church services. May this long-awaited lifting of restrictions serve as a new expression of my trust and heartfelt goodwill toward the Old Believers, who have long been known for their unwavering loyalty to the throne. — Nicholas.”

The priests and faithful gathered in the church were overcome with emotion. In solemn silence, Golitsyn cut the seals from the altar doors. The locks were immediately broken—since the keys had long been lost.

Soon, more than 10,000 Christians gathered near the Pokrovsky Cathedral. Up to forty people worked to clean and prepare the altar for the festive service, which was celebrated with extraordinary solemnity.

The next day, on April 17, the Imperial Ukase “On the Strengthening of Religious Tolerance” was issued. It forbade the use of the term schismatics in reference to Old Believers and granted them full freedom to conduct their religious services.

However, the authorities once again made it clear to the popovtsy that they did not officially recognize the Belokrinitskaya hierarchy. The decree stated that Old Believer priests and bishops were to be referred to only as pastors and elders, though it did exempt them from military service, just as it did for the clergy of the Synodal Church.

While not a perfect law, it was nonetheless a significant milestone for Old Believers. At last, both the popovtsy and bespopovtsy could breathe freely and devote themselves to the peaceful organization of their spiritual life.

The brief period between the revolutions of 1905 and 1917 is often referred to as the Golden Age of Old Believers. Taking advantage of Nicholas II’s decree, the Old Believers, within twelve years of newfound freedom, made up for what had been lost over 250 years of persecution.

Across Russia, churches were built, schools and seminaries opened, councils and synods convened, and gramophone records of church singing were produced. Religious journals, newspapers, and liturgical books were published.

The government-sanctioned publication of Old Believer books began in earnest. A printing house was established at Rogozhskoye Cemetery, but the finest printing presses belonged to the Fedoseevtsy—one at the Preobrazhensky Cemetery in Moscow and another in the Vyatka village of Staraya Tushka.

Some of the most significant monuments to this era of religious freedom were the numerous newly built churches, often designed by renowned architects.

For instance, the famous Fyodor Shekhtel, commissioned by the Maltsev merchants, constructed a magnificent Church of the Holy Trinity in Balakovo.

With the financial support of pious benefactors, churches adorned with exquisite traditional craftsmanship were erected throughout the country.

In the northern capital, Petrograd, in 1912, the Old Believer architect Nikola Georgievich Martyanov (1872–1943) began the construction of the Pokrovsky Cathedral with its bell tower at Gromovskoye Cemetery.

This majestic church was completed and consecrated in 1915.

The Pomortsy (priestless Old Believers) of Petrograd also began constructing their own large church with a belfry in 1906—the Church of the Sign of the Most Holy Theotokos on Tverskaya Street. The construction was overseen by architect Dmitry Andreyevich Kryzhanovsky.

By 1908, the building was completed. However, in 1936, like many other churches, it was closed by the Soviet authorities.

The Old Believers of this Golden Age could not foresee the tragic fate awaiting their sacred sites. They lived a full Christian life—building churches, publishing books, and opening educational institutions. They made full use of their unexpected freedom.

Churches of Moscow

The Old Believer community of Moscow had always been the largest and wealthiest. The ancient capital was home to the most affluent merchants, many of whom collected antique icons and books.

For example, the extensive collection of the millionaire Stepan Pavlovich Ryabushinsky (1874–1942) contained numerous icons remarkable not only for their beauty but also for their antiquity.

After religious freedom was granted, Moscow’s Old Believers began constructing churches in the ancient Russian style, adorning them with loving care. Unfortunately, many of these churches did not survive the Soviet era. Under the Bolsheviks, all of them were closed—some were repurposed, while others were demolished.

The new authorities looted the church property. Some icons found their way into museums, including the Tretyakov Gallery, the Russian Museum, and the Museum of the History of Religion. The bells were melted down, with only a few being transferred to theaters.

To this day, not all churches have been returned to their rightful owner—the Old Orthodox Church.

A monument to the unsealing of the altars of the Rogozhskoye Cemetery cathedrals was the majestic Resurrection Church-Bell Tower.

It was built in 1908–1909 by architects Fyodor Fyodorovich Gornostayev and Zinovy Ivanovich Ivanov. According to legend, the bell tower was only one brick lower than the Kremlin’s Ivan the Great.

Another commemorative church was the Assumption Cathedral near the Pokrovskaya Outpost. Construction began in 1906 under architect Nikolai Dmitrievich Polikarpov. The grand church with its bell tower was modeled after the Assumption Cathedral of the Kremlin.

The church was adorned with ancient icons collected from Old Believer chapels across Russia. Its iconostasis contained many Novgorod and Moscow icons from the 15th–17th centuries, as well as 16th-century royal doors.

The altar table was hewn from solid stone in the ancient manner. Church utensils—lampstands, candlesticks, and processional banners—were also crafted following traditional designs.

A silver reliquary held relics of many saints: John the Baptist, the Apostle Matthew, Nicholas the Wonderworker, Sergius of Radonezh, as well as fragments of the Lord’s Tomb and His Robe.

The church was solemnly consecrated on November 9, 1908, by Moscow Archbishop John (Kartushin). When the great multi-pood bell tolled, some worshippers wept with joy.

The Assumption Cathedral was one of the most beautiful in Russia, its grandeur and splendor rivaling the churches of the Kremlin and Rogozhskoye Cemetery. Alas, a terrible fate awaited it.

In 1935, the communists closed and desecrated the church. The ancient icons were sent to museums, while the magnificent cathedral was converted into a hideous factory dormitory.

A similarly tragic fate befell the Church of the Intercession near the German Market, which once rivaled the Assumption Cathedral in its richness of decoration.

Construction of the Intercession Church began in 1909 under the architect Ilya Yevgrafovich Bondarenko, a talented student of Shekhtel and a favorite of the Old Believers, who built several beautiful churches in Moscow and the surrounding region.

This unique two-story church was splendidly adorned with icons from Ryabushinsky’s collection. The upper church, intended for festive services, was consecrated in 1911 by Archbishop John in honor of the Intercession of the Theotokos. The lower church, designated for weekday services, was consecrated a year later in honor of the Dormition of the Theotokos.

In 1933, the Bolsheviks closed and looted the church. The most valuable icons were transferred to the Tretyakov Gallery, while the bells were given to the Bolshoi Theatre. The building was repurposed as a club and sports school.

To this day, the church remains a sports facility.

An even more tragic fate befell the Church of the Tikhvin Icon of the Mother of God at the Serpukhovskaya Outpost.

It was built by architect Martyanov between 1911 and 1912 on the site of a wooden chapel known since the time of Peter I. In 1930, the church was closed. The grim Soviet years, when the building served as a club and warehouse, were not its darkest days. The real disaster struck in 1991.

At a time when churches across the country were being returned to their former owners, Moscow officials sold the Old Believer church to private entrepreneurs who turned it into a tavern. In the desecrated house of God, they sold roasted chickens and vodka.

In 2003, the church was purchased by a certain Nikonian businessman. He wished to open a museum dedicated to the murdered Tsar Nicholas II. The rightful owners—the Old Believers—repeatedly petitioned for the return of their church. However, to this day, this has not happened.

The fate of other churches—St. Nicholas and the Intercession—was more fortunate. They have been returned to the Old Believers.

The Church of St. Nicholas the Wonderworker at the Tverskaya Outpost was built in the style of Novgorod and Pskov churches between 1914 and 1916 by architects Ivan Gavrilovich Kondratenko and Anton Mikhailovich Gurzhienko.

Due to the difficulties of wartime and the revolutionary period, the grand church with its tall bell tower was consecrated only in 1921. However, it was closed twenty years later, in January 1941.

Today, some of the icons from the church are in St. Petersburg, in the Museum of the History of Religion, while several of its bells have been transferred to the famous Church of the Great Ascension at Nikitsky Gate, where Pushkin was wed.

In 1992, the Church of St. Nicholas was returned to the faithful.

The Church of the Intercession of the Most Holy Theotokos on Ostozhenka was constructed in 1907–1908 by architects Vladimir Dmitrievich Adamovich and Vladimir Moritzovich Mayat, funded by the Ryabushinsky family.

The model for this elegant church with its bell tower was the Novgorod Church of the Savior on Nereditsa. It was adorned with 15th–17th-century icons from Ryabushinsky’s collection.

In 1938, the church was closed and plundered. Its rarest icons were transferred to the Tretyakov Gallery. It was not until 1994 that the neglected church building was returned to the Old Believers.

The Priestless Pomorian Old Believers also built their own church in Moscow.

In 1907, they laid the foundation for the Church of the Resurrection of Christ and the Protection of the Theotokos. It was constructed by architect Bondarenko, who also designed the sketches for the choir stalls, iconostasis, and church furnishings.

In 1929, the Bolsheviks decided to close the church. The faithful attempted to defend it, appealing to the Moscow authorities, but in vain. In 1930, the church was closed and looted.

At various times, it housed a club, a theater, and a factory. It was not until 1993 that the desecrated building was returned to the Priestless Old Believers.

Bishop Mikhail

From 1805, during the reign of Tsar Alexander I, even children served in the Russian army. These young soldiers were called cantonists. Typically, they were the legitimate and illegitimate sons of servicemen or the poor, as well as orphans and foundlings. They were first trained in special schools, and at the age of 18, they were sent to military service, which at the time lasted 25 years.

Under Emperor Nicholas I, Jewish and Old Believer children were forcibly conscripted into the army.

Jews were taken from 1827, and Old Believers from 1838. That year, the Tsarist government passed a law permitting the forced enlistment of Old Believer children as cantonists. This law primarily targeted the priestless Old Believers, whose marriages were not consecrated in church and were therefore considered illegitimate. Children born in such marriages were deemed illegitimate and even orphans.

During the reign of Nicholas I, a six-year-old Jewish boy was taken into the cantonist ranks. His birth name is unknown, but during his military service, he was baptized and given the Russian name Vasily Semyonov.

After completing his military service, Vasily settled in Simbirsk and married a Russian woman. In 1873, they had a son, Pavel.

Whether due to parental influence or his own choice, Pavel pursued a churchly path. He completed his studies at the Simbirsk theological school and seminary, then continued his education at the Moscow and Kazan theological academies. After completing his studies in 1899, Semyonov took monastic vows and was given the name Mikhail.

In 1900, the monk was ordained to the priesthood. That same year, Hieromonk Mikhail traveled to Istanbul for academic work. This journey left an indelible impression on him. As he studied the history of the Greek Church, he was overjoyed to visit Christian holy sites, even though they had been desecrated by Muslims.

Upon returning to Russia, he was appointed as a lecturer at the Voronezh theological seminary and later at the St. Petersburg Theological Academy. In 1902, he completed a significant study on the ecclesiastical legislation of Greek emperors, which earned him recognition in academic circles.

In 1905, Mikhail was elevated to the rank of archimandrite. Although he did not manage a monastery, the honorary title was bestowed upon him as a mark of distinction.

After the 1905 revolution, life in St. Petersburg was turbulent. Heated debates arose about Russia’s future and the state of contemporary Christianity. The whirlwind of metropolitan life drew Mikhail in.

He frequently delivered public lectures on faith, morality, and education. He could be seen in the company of prominent thinkers, scholars, writers, and poets. He himself wrote essays and articles, collaborating with numerous newspapers and journals. He even authored a play about Tsar Ivan the Terrible for the theater.

While teaching at the academy, Mikhail became disillusioned with the Synodal Church. He saw that it was not only slavishly dependent on the state but also spiritually dead. Finally, he resolved to seek the true Church—one that was free and alive.

The clergyman did not conceal his views but declared them boldly, prompting the Synod to remove him from the capital. In 1906, the dangerous dissident archimandrite was dismissed from the theological academy and exiled to a remote monastery.

In 1907, Mikhail began corresponding with Bishop Innokenty (Usov) of Nizhny Novgorod, expressing his desire to join the Old Believers. The bishop summoned him.

In October of that year, the archimandrite traveled to Nizhny Novgorod, where he was received into the Church through the sacrament of Chrismation. The Synod immediately responded by defrocking Mikhail.

The Nikonian newspapers and journals unleashed a torrent of slander and false accusations against the courageous clergyman. They even denounced his half-Jewish ancestry. The persecution of Mikhail continued until his death.

The archimandrite began collaborating with Old Believer journals such as Starobryadets (The Old Believers), Church, and Old Believer Thought, producing an astonishingly fruitful body of work. Soon, he became one of the foremost defenders of the Old Faith.

However, not everyone in the Church accepted him easily. To many, he was an enigma—too educated, too active, too trusting.

Meanwhile, a letter arrived from Canada, stating that many believers there wished to join the Old Believers. Consequently, on November 22, 1908, Innokenty consecrated Mikhail as a bishop for the future Old Believer communities in Canada.

This consecration was performed without the consent of all bishops, as required by church canons, leading to both Innokenty and Mikhail being temporarily forbidden from conducting divine services.

In August 1909, a Church Council lifted the prohibition from Innokenty. Mikhail, however, was given a choice: either travel to Canada or remain under the ban. Lacking the funds to leave, he remained barred from celebrating the liturgy.

Yet, no one forbade the bishop from writing. He continued his literary work tirelessly, despite his failing health. Most of his earnings he gave to the poor. At times, he even shared his own clothing with beggars on the streets.

Bishop Mikhail wrote many articles and books. His vivid imagination transported readers across centuries—to the catacombs of Rome, to the resplendent Constantinople, and to the Old Believer hermitages of the 18th century. His eloquent writing style was both captivating and profound.

The earthly life of the bishop was cut short suddenly.

In 1914, World War I began. The daily reports of the immense losses suffered by the Russian army, the deaths and maiming of thousands, deeply grieved him. The constant distress and relentless labor led to his exhaustion.

In 1916, Mikhail traveled from Simbirsk, where he had been living with his sister, to Moscow for medical treatment. He was robbed and beaten by unknown assailants.

On October 19, he was found on the street, unconscious, with broken ribs, and taken to a hospital for the poor.

He developed a fever. It was only a week later that he regained consciousness and was able to identify himself. The Old Believers were informed.

They transported the bishop to the hospital at the Rogozhskoye Cemetery. A priest arrived to hear his confession and administer Holy Communion. When he offered Mikhail the cross to kiss, the bishop grasped it firmly and pressed it to his lips for a long time.

The ban on the dying bishop was lifted.

The restless heart of Bishop Mikhail ceased to beat on October 27, 1916.

Three days later, he was solemnly buried at Rogozhskoye Cemetery.

The Old Believer Institute

At the beginning of the 19th century, in addition to almshouses, the Rogozhskoye Cemetery housed an orphanage that cared for abandoned children and those from impoverished families. A school was established to educate boys, where they were taught reading, writing, arithmetic, and church singing.

This school was not limited to orphans—children brought to Rogozhskoye Cemetery at a young age were also educated there. Many graduates became renowned singers in Old Believer Moscow, and some even became ecclesiastical precentors.

However, in 1835, during yet another government crackdown on the Old Faith, the cemetery school was abolished. The authorities ordered that children be returned to their parents, and orphans were sent into the cantonist ranks.

Unwilling to lose their school, the Old Believers secretly relocated it nine versts from Moscow to the village of Novinki, near Kolomenskoye. There, it continued to operate until 1839 under the local prayer house.

That same year, the school was officially shut down by government decree. But by 1840, the police discovered that the school had not been destroyed but had instead been relocated to Kolomenskoye.

In 1868, the merchant Ivan Ivanovich Shibayev opened a school in Moscow for Old Believer children. However, in 1869, the police shut it down.

In 1879, Old Believers from Moscow and St. Petersburg petitioned for permission to establish a trade school at their own expense, under government supervision. In their appeal to Emperor Alexander II, they wrote:

“We feel an extreme need for education and therefore beseech Your Majesty to grant us permission to establish our own primary and secondary schools. In these, we wish to raise our children in the fear of God and develop their abilities by teaching them the exact sciences and essential foreign languages.”

Their request was denied.

After religious freedom was granted, discussions about the necessity of Christian education were revived. This issue was actively debated at Old Believer congresses.

The congress participants insisted that education was of primary importance. They also proposed the establishment of a church school to train teachers:

“We need an Old Believer teacher or governess. We need to build a school.”

In 1911, the government finally granted permission to open the Old Believer Theological and Teacher Training Institute. A board of trustees was formed under the Rogozhskoye Cemetery community to oversee it. On September 10, 1912, the institute’s first classes began in the community building.

The board of trustees admitted 23 students without examinations. Additionally, 15 candidates were allowed to take entrance exams, of whom only 7 passed.

Among the first students, 12 were from peasant families, 6 were townsmen, 9 were Cossacks, and 13 were sons of priests. The average age of the students was 16 years.

The institute’s first director was Alexander Stepanovich Rybakov (1884–1977), a graduate of Moscow University and the father of the renowned historian Boris Alexandrovich Rybakov.

The institute’s opening was marked by a solemn prayer service led by Archbishop John. After the service, he addressed Rybakov with the hope that he would nurture strong and faithful Christians:

“Not only Moscow but all of Old Believer Russia looks to you with hope. You must produce people who understand the customs, needs, and demands of Old Believers—people of deep faith. The fate of education within Old Believers depends on this institute. If it succeeds, more institutes will open. If it fails, Old Believers will abandon the idea of higher education entirely.”

Thus began the institute’s work. Any young Christian could apply for admission, provided they submitted a certificate of status and class, along with a recommendation from their spiritual father or local community.

The program lasted six years. In the first four years, students studied history, Church Slavonic, Russian, Greek, and German languages, geography, mathematics, physics, Znamenny chant, and the basics of iconography. In the final two years, they studied the Bible, theology, Old Believer history, and canon law.

The educational experiment was largely successful, leading the Rogozhskoye community to allocate land for the construction of a dedicated building for the institute. In September 1915, classes began in the newly constructed facility.

The institute was associated with many prominent ecclesiastical figures of the early 20th century. Among its faculty were Bishop Michael and the talented iconographer and expert in Znamenny chant, Yakov Alekseevich Bogatenkov.

Bogatenkov’s students, trained as singers at the institute, gained wide recognition in Moscow. They were frequently invited to sing in the city’s churches. Bishop Michael authored several textbooks for the institute and parish schools, including Textbooks on the Law of God, Catechism, or a Brief Exposition of the Christian Faith, and A Study of the Liturgy.

However, the outbreak of World War I cast a shadow over the institute’s future. Many students were conscripted into the army. Nearly the entire first graduating class enrolled in military training.

In August 1917, Rybakov left Moscow. The institute’s new director was the renowned lay theologian Feodor Yefimovich Melnikov. By this time, enrollment had reached 90 students.

In September 1917, the institute was restructured into a teacher’s seminary designed to prepare students for university admission. However, in 1918, the seminary was shut down by Soviet authorities.

It would be incorrect to say that the idea of religious education died immediately after the school’s closure. Its successor was the Old Believer People’s Academy, which aimed to promote education among Old Believers and introduce the public to the Old Faith.

The academy held classes from May to July 1918. During this brief period, students attended lectures on Old Believer history, literature, and art. Some of the lecturers were Old Believers, while others were from the state (Nikonian) Church.

After the academy was shut down, all religious schools in Soviet Russia ceased to exist. The hope of theological education was extinguished for many years. Scholarly religious knowledge and theological literacy once again became the domain of a few self-taught nachetchiki (lay theologians).

However, even the need for such scholars gradually disappeared—Soviet authorities had no interest in theological nuances and actively discouraged theological studies. Debates on matters of faith ceased.

And there was no one left to debate with. Old Believer communities were fading. The churches of both the priestly and priestless Old Believers were increasingly filled with the elderly, who had little interest in theological disputes.

Are Rituals Necessary?

(From the article of Bishop Michael)

Old Believers are most frequently accused of ritualism, that is, of stubbornly venerating ritual even more than doctrine. Their reverence for ritual is often perceived as a kind of idolatry.

But is ritual really something insignificant, something of little importance in the order of spiritual life? In another place, we have briefly written about the meaning of ritual. We have explained why Old Believers had to rise in spirit against the blasphemous encroachment upon the sacredness of ritual.

Now I wish to address primarily the Old Believer youth: what is the meaning of ritual? What is a ritual?

It is the envelope, the garment of doctrine, as we have said before. But let us now continue in a slightly different way: it is preserved spiritual life, a powerful element of Christian life, a great moment that has been frozen in time for the sake of spiritual upbringing.

The content of the baptismal rites is profound. One day, we will discuss them separately.

Consider the Paschal service, where there is the ritual of the kiss of peace. And who knows how many hearts have melted, how many angry impulses have dissolved in this ritual kiss!

On the eve of the fast, there is the ritual of forgiveness. What a mighty force of reconciliation this ritual holds within itself!

And the ritual of marriage, that is, the sacrament of matrimony in its ritual aspect—what a revelation about the family is given here to those who have ears to hear!

But how? In what way does ritual exert such an influence?

I explain it as follows. A ritual is, in its time, created by a great thought, an immense spiritual energy, a surge of loving devotion.

Yet all energy, according to the law of the conservation of spiritual energy, remains preserved. Just as warmth endures, the spiritual power of ritual remains latent within it.

There is a story by Korolenko titled Frost.

It is a fantasy. The author imagines that, sometimes, in the cold, words freeze. But then, when the sun begins to shine, he envisions how the words thaw, enter into the souls of people, and bring them a holy power.

So it is with ritual—within it are frozen words, a sacred force.

For a person who has not yet been warmed by the sun of grace, they seem dead, lifeless. Yet even for such a person, these words may awaken and come to life.

To perceive a ritual rightly, one must gaze into it, delve into its depth, so that its power may come alive in the heart.

Soviet Power

In July 1914, the First World War began. Our country entered into conflict with Austria, Germany, and Turkey. Russia’s allies were England and France. Gradually, many countries of Europe, Asia, and America were drawn into the war, making it truly global.

The war saw the use of new and unprecedented weaponry: airplanes and tanks, mortars and machine guns, poisonous gases and explosive bullets. This resulted in heavy casualties both among the warring armies and the civilian population. Millions of people perished.

For Russia, the war became a true disaster. The tsarist troops retreated. The Germans seized our lands. The state treasury was emptied. England and France simply plundered Russia, waging war at her expense.

Russia was rapidly impoverished. Ruin and famine began to spread throughout the country. In Petrograd and Moscow, enormous queues formed for bread. The people murmured in discontent.

All of this led to the revolution of February 1917. Emperor Nicholas II abdicated the throne and was sent into exile. Power passed into the hands of the Provisional Government.

However, it was composed of weak and cowardly individuals who neither could nor wished to end the bloody war or restore order in the country. Thus, in October 1917, another revolution took place.

An armed uprising broke out in Petrograd. Power was seized by a little-known party of communist Bolsheviks. They marched under red banners, which is why they came to be called the “Reds.”

The people believed they had won. The Bolsheviks assured them that they acted in the name of workers and peasants, soldiers and sailors. The revolutionaries promised an end to the war, free transfer of land to the peasants, and factories to the workers.

All power was transferred to the Soviets—special elective institutions composed of representatives of the people. Nobles, clergy, capitalists, officials, and police officers were removed from government affairs. The communists declared them “parasites” and “bloodsuckers.”

To hasten the end of the war, on March 3, 1918, the Bolsheviks signed a peace treaty with Austria, Germany, and Turkey.

The terms of the treaty were unfavorable and disgraceful for Russia. Our country lost vast territories—Poland, Finland, the Baltic states, certain possessions in the Caucasus, and regions populated by Little Russians and Belarusians.

On the ruins of the Russian Empire, a new state arose, which came to be called Soviet Russia, and later, the Soviet Union.

The Bolsheviks did not merely destroy the great Russian state. They sought to eradicate the entire traditional way of life of the people. In 1918, Russian orthography and the Russian calendar were altered.

Several old letters were removed from our alphabet—yat (ѣ), decimal i (і), fita (ѳ), and izhitsa (ѵ). The hard sign (ъ) at the end of words after consonants was abolished.

The Julian calendar, which had been used since ancient Roman times, was replaced by the Gregorian calendar, introduced in the 16th century under Pope Gregory XIII. Today, the difference between these calendars is 13 days.

However, the Church retained the old reckoning of time. Thus, for example, the feast of the Nativity of Christ is celebrated by believers on December 25 according to the old Julian calendar, which corresponds to January 7 on the new Gregorian calendar.

Yet, the changes in spelling and timekeeping were utterly insignificant compared to other transformations that shook Russia.

The country was engulfed by a bloody wave of Red Terror. This was the name given to the Bolsheviks’ extermination of those who opposed their rule—those who were disobedient or held differing views. Beginning in 1918, the terror ebbed and flowed, but it persisted for nearly 70 years.

During these years, millions of people were senselessly and unjustly destroyed. Among the first victims was Emperor Nicholas II. He and his family were executed by gunfire in Yekaterinburg.

The communists executed, drowned, and hanged not only the tsar’s generals, prominent scholars, former officials, and merchants. They also put to death ordinary people—the very workers and peasants for whom the revolution had supposedly been carried out.

The Bolsheviks declared that one of their most important tasks was the fight against religion—the faith in God. They claimed that religion had been invented by the rich to deceive the poor and force them to work for their benefit.

Thus, all clergy were declared accomplices of the tsar and enemies of the people. Persecution was unleashed against all believers—both those who accepted priests and those who did not, Nikonian and Latin Christians, Muslims and Jews alike.

The cruelty of the Bolsheviks and their betrayal of Great Russia provoked universal outrage. The White Army rose against the Reds—a military force that sought to restore the old order and revive the former Russia.

The Civil War began. It engulfed the entire country—the Far East, Siberia, the Urals, Central Asia, the Volga region, the Don, the Caucasus, and the Black Sea coast.

Most Old Believers supported the White Army. Even Archbishop Meletiy (Kartushin), who had been elected head of the Russian Church in 1915, left Moscow and joined the rebel Cossacks on the Don.

But the war against the communists was lost by the White Army. Its generals, soldiers, and officers were forced to leave Russia forever. Along with them, many Old Believers—both clergy and laypeople—fled into exile. Some went to Romania, Yugoslavia, and France, while others journeyed to China, and from there to Australia and America.

For the millions of Old Believers who remained in Russia, dark days began.

The Church suffered terribly under the Red Terror. The stronghold of Old Belief was destroyed—wealthy industrialists and merchants, prosperous peasant kulaks, and free Cossacks were wiped out. During the years of Soviet rule, thousands of zealous clergy and pious laypeople were executed. All Old Believer monasteries were closed, plundered, and destroyed, along with hundreds of churches.

The Bolsheviks succeeded in ravaging Rogozhskoye Cemetery—something even the tsarist authorities had failed to accomplish.

In 1929, services were halted in the Nativity Cathedral. The church was looted and repurposed as a dining hall for workers. Now, instead of devout worshippers, foul-mouthed drunkards could be seen near it.

There were plans to close and convert the Intercession Cathedral into a theater, but it miraculously survived. In 1930, the bells were removed from the Resurrection Church-bell tower. Three years later, even this church was shut down.

Archbishop Meletiy

After the passing of Archbishop Anthony, Savvaty (1824–1898), Bishop of Tobolsk and all Siberia, was elected to the Moscow episcopal see. In October 1882, the council of bishops elevated him to a higher rank—archbishop.

In August 1897, Savvaty was forced to sign a pledge with the police stating that he would no longer call himself the Archbishop of Moscow. This caused great concern among the faithful.

In December, the issue of the pledge was discussed at a gathering of the parishioners of Rogozhskoye Cemetery. The assembly decided to ask Savvaty to refer this difficult matter to the consideration of all the bishops.

In March 1898, an episcopal council was held in Nizhny Novgorod. At the council, Savvaty, having laid down his episcopal rank, was sent into retirement. In December of the same year, the new Archbishop of Moscow was elected—John (Kartushin), Bishop of the Don.

Bishop John (1837–1915) was born into a Cossack family on the Don. Even in his youth, he gained renown as an unparalleled master of theological debate. Many times, he had to engage in religious disputes with the Nikonians, including his younger brother Kalina Kartushin, who left the Old Believers and joined the Synodal Church.

Bishop John led the Ancient Orthodox Church during its flourishing years—the era of the “Golden Age.” But in 1915, the archbishop passed away.

Bishop Meletiy (Kartushin), Bishop of Saratov and Astrakhan, a cousin of the late hierarch, was elected to the Moscow see.

The future hierarch, Mikhail Polikarpovich Kartushin, was born in 1859 in a Cossack stanitsa on the Don. From a young age, he was highly respected by his fellow countrymen. At their persistent request, in 1886, Mikhail was ordained to the priesthood.

Church rules prohibit clergy from taking up arms and serving in the military. However, in the Russian Empire, the clerical ranks of the Old Believers were not officially recognized. Therefore, the young priest was subject to conscription, like all Cossacks. Before long, he was called up for military training.

One of the officers, upon learning that there was an Old Believer priest in the camp, reported it to the ataman. The ataman wished to see Kartushin. Father Mikhail appeared and honestly explained his difficult situation to his superiors.

The priest’s candor moved the ataman, who promised to send him back to his parish as soon as possible. And so it happened—the priest was released home ahead of schedule.

In 1895, Kartushin was widowed. In 1904, a church council decided to ask Mikhail to accept the episcopal rank to oversee the many parishes of the Lower Volga—Saratov and Astrakhan.

However, only in December 1908 did the widowed priest take monastic vows under the name Meletiy. That same year, he was consecrated a bishop.

In the spring of 1914, Bishop Meletiy, together with Bishop Alexander (Bogatenkov), undertook a two-month journey through the Christian East. The hierarchs visited Palestine, Egypt, Greece, and Constantinople-Istanbul.

In July 1914, war broke out. Bloody battles took place in Bukovina, forcing the White Krinitsa Metropolitan Macarius (Lobov) to flee to Moscow. The hierarch barely survived the suffering and hardships he endured.

When the war began, the Austrians, who then controlled Bukovina, accused the metropolitan of aiding the Russians. He was seized and taken to the town of Radautz. Macarius was locked in a barracks and interrogated harshly for several days.

One day, the hierarch was placed in an empty cart and left in the barracks courtyard. For several hours, a crowd of soldiers and locals mocked Macarius. They spat in his face, brandished their fists and sticks at him, and shouted:

— Judas! Traitor! Pharisee!

After yet another interrogation, the Austrians allowed the metropolitan to return to the White Krinitsa Monastery. However, they did not leave him in peace. Soldiers frequently came to the monastery for searches. Shaking their weapons, they shouted:

— Where are the Muscovites? Bring us the Muscovites!

The Austrians searched for Russian soldiers everywhere—in the bishop’s chambers, in the monks’ cells, in the churches, and in the bell tower.

Russian troops managed to occupy Bukovina briefly. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Metropolitan Macarius fled to Moscow. Around the same time—on April 24, 1915—Archbishop John passed away.

The Russian Old Believers proposed that Metropolitan Macarius take the vacant episcopal see and at the same time permanently transfer the residence of the Old Believer metropolitans from White Krinitsa to Moscow. But Macarius refused.

The Church Council elected Bishop Meletiy as Archbishop of Moscow and decided to elevate him to metropolitan status. However, due to the difficulties of wartime, this did not happen.

Then came the revolutionary year of 1917, followed by the Civil War.

In February 1918, the Soviet government issued a special law—the Decree on Freedom of Conscience. According to it, the teaching of religious foundations was prohibited in all educational institutions. Religious organizations were deprived of the right to own property. All their assets were declared the property of the people.

Archbishop Meletiy immediately addressed his flock with an appeal against the new law. The hierarch wrote:

“Under the guise of this decree, the enemies of Christianity, who now largely steer the ship of state, may with impunity commit any sacrilege against Christianity and its sanctities. Even the most ruthless foes of religion and Christianity could not have devised a law more grievous for the Church of Christ. This is not a decree on freedom of conscience, but a satanic mockery of the believing soul of the Russian people.”

Entering into open opposition with the Bolsheviks, the archbishop was forced to leave Moscow and go to the Don, which was then held by the White Army. Only at the end of 1922 did Meletiy return to the capital.

By this time, the Soviet authorities had devastated Rogozhskoye Cemetery. Its buildings and much of its property were confiscated. The Bolsheviks stripped the icons of their silver covers and precious stones. The once-rich library was transferred to state collections.

Upon his return, Meletiy had nowhere to live. He settled in the watchman’s hut by the Dormition Cathedral at Pokrovskaya Zastava. There was no money to hire a secretary, so the elderly archbishop had to handle all church correspondence himself, spending 16–18 hours a day on it.

Little is known about the final years of the hierarch’s life. He passed away on June 4, 1934, and was buried at Rogozhskoye Cemetery under a simple wooden cross.

Metropolitan Innokenty

Literacy, erudition, and a love for books always distinguished Old Believers from members of the state Church. At a time when the Synod issued decrees prohibiting the marriage of young men and women who did not know the Our Father, the Old Believers were familiar with the entire liturgical cycle of the Church.

The Psalter and the Chasoslov (Book of Hours) could be found in every Christian home, but reading was not limited to prayer books alone. Old Believers cherished the teachings of the Holy Fathers—especially John Chrysostom and Ephraim the Syrian—as well as various lives of saints, parables, and chronicles.

Many believers owned extensive libraries, collecting ancient manuscripts and printed books. Their love of reading and the constant need to defend their convictions turned Old Believers into nachetchiks—scholars well-versed in ecclesiastical literature.

However, in debates with Synodal missionaries trained in the European manner, knowledge of Church books alone was insufficient. The best nachetchiks followed scientific developments, studied ancient manuscripts, and kept up with contemporary historical research.

One of the most outstanding nachetchiks of the early 20th century was Ivan Grigoryevich Usov, a man of vast knowledge and exceptional intellect.

He was born on January 23, 1870, in the Old Believer settlement of Svyatsk. His father, Grigory Lazarevich Usov, was a builder of windmills and provided his son with a good education.

From childhood, Ivan displayed great curiosity and an extraordinary memory. At the age of 11, his parents enrolled him in primary school, which he successfully completed.

The school principal insisted that Ivan continue his education, but his father disagreed. Instead, he sent his son to learn iconography. Nevertheless, the young man continued his studies independently, eagerly devouring books.

Before long, the young iconographer met Hieromonk Arseny. In September 1890, Arseny was arrested by the police while on a preaching mission in Starodub.

He was imprisoned in the town of Surazh under the strictest supervision, treated as a dangerous criminal.

The hieromonk was released on bail only in April 1891.

While awaiting trial, Arseny settled in an Old Believer monastery near Klintsy. There, young men eager for knowledge—including the future renowned nachetchiks Ivan Usov and Fyodor Melnikov—came to study under him.

Meeting this devoted defender of the Old Faith left a deep impression on the young men. They resolved to become equally steadfast defenders and tireless preachers of Orthodoxy.

However, Usov was soon conscripted into military service, delaying his mission. Upon completing his service in 1895, he immediately went to Arseny, settled with him, and became his devoted disciple. Under Arseny’s guidance, he began writing his first book against the missionaries, Analysis of Answers to 105 Questions, which he completed in 1896.

Usov went on to write many works defending the Old Faith and soon became one of its most prominent nachetchiks. He traveled across nearly all of Russia, successfully debating the Nikonians.

In 1902, Ivan Grigoryevich took monastic vows and was given the name Innokenty. That same year, he was elected bishop for Nizhny Novgorod and Kostroma. A year later, he was consecrated to the episcopacy.

Innokenty was the youngest Russian bishop. After the Old Believers were granted freedom of religion, he became a pioneer in new initiatives and projects. He founded the first monthly Christian journal, The Old Believer Herald, and was among the first to focus on training teachers for parish schools.

After the October Revolution of 1917, Innokenty boldly and openly opposed the godless Bolsheviks. He composed a prayer for the deliverance of Russia, which included the following supplication to God:

“Preserve Thy world from the ruin of militant atheism. Deliver the Russian land from Thine enemies, who torment and slaughter countless innocent people, and above all, those who believe in Thee. Grant rest in Thy kingdom to all who have been tortured to death by weapons and gunfire, by hunger, frost, and other means of destruction at the hands of the devil’s inhuman servants. Take up Thy shield and sword and arise to help us. Stretch forth Thine arm from the heights of Thy glory, strengthen our will and power to strike down and overthrow the wicked enemies of mankind. And free our land from the heavy yoke of the hateful rule of the godless.”

For such actions, the archbishop faced the threat of severe reprisal from the communists. In 1920, he was forced to flee to Moldova, which had been annexed to Romania. The Church authorities assigned him to remain in Chișinău and lead the Old Believer community there.

Though the bishop found refuge in Romania, he never obtained a Romanian passport. This would later have dire consequences for his fate.

In 1940, Romania ceded Bukovina and Moldova to the Soviet Union. Metropolitan Siluyan (Kravtsov) hastily fled the village of Belaya Krinitsa, and Bishop Innokenty left Chișinău, fearing that he would fall into the hands of his Bolshevik enemies.

Under the new circumstances, Siluyan relocated to the city of Brăila, which remains the residence of the White Krinitsa metropolitans to this day. Innokenty, meanwhile, was appointed bishop of the city of Tulcea.

In January 1941, Metropolitan Siluyan passed away. The Church Council elected Bishop Innokenty as his successor. In June of that same year, Germany invaded the Soviet Union, launching the Great Patriotic War.

Romania joined the war on Germany’s side, hoping to reclaim the lost territories of Bukovina and Moldova. At this time, Metropolitan Innokenty was in the border city of Iași, which the Soviet army mercilessly bombarded with artillery and airstrikes.

The hierarch found himself in a desperate situation. The Romanian authorities forbade him, a foreigner, from leaving the city. His friends and supporters fled from Iași, leaving Innokenty completely alone, without help or protection. Terror overcame him—he feared that the Red Army would soon enter the city and capture him.

Only in this weakened state did the Romanian authorities finally permit the Old Believers to transfer the hierarch to the estate of Pisk, three versts from Brăila, where a special cell had been prepared for him. There, Metropolitan Innokenty passed away.

For over forty days, he took no food and wasted away. His long-suffering soul departed to the Lord on February 16, 1942.

Ioann Kudrin

In a family of Old Believers of the Chasovennye Concord, living in the village of Nozhovka in Perm province, Ivan Gavrilovich Kudrin, the future renowned priest, was born on December 10, 1879. His father, Gavriil Nikolaevich Kudrin, worked at the local factory, which produced cast iron and steel.

In 1886, the residents of Nozhovka accepted the priesthood of the Belokrinitsa hierarchy. A priest arrived in the village and, for the first time, performed a church service in the Old Believer chapel. He was vested in brocade vestments and censed not with a hand censer, as was customary among the common folk, but with a priest’s censer on chains.

This was unusual, and little Vanya Kudrin whispered to his peers:

— What is this? A priest in vestments, a censer on chains? The priest says “Again and again,” and they sing “Grant, O Lord.” No, this is not our way. Can this be right?

As it happened, Vanya began helping the priest—fanning and handing him the censer. And when he grew up, he himself became a priest and served God and the people faithfully for many years, enduring many hardships and trials.

The factory in Nozhovka went bankrupt, and the Kudrin family had to sustain themselves through farming and various trades.

A bright and sharp-witted young man, Ivan read avidly but indiscriminately. He lacked proper knowledge of history and theology, which troubled him. But the village nachetchik Zotik Ignatievich Khanzhin took charge of Kudrin’s education. He said:

— Listen, young man, do not despair, do not hang your head. You are young and, as I see, inquisitive. That means you must study and read. It is never too late to learn. If you have the will, you will find the time.

Under Khanzhin’s guidance, the young man eagerly began reading historical and theological books. He carried them with him to the fields, and during breaks, he read several pages and took notes. Soon, Kudrin was able to take part in debates with the priestless Old Believers and the Nikonians.

In 1898, Ivan married Anna Zotikovna, the daughter of Khanzhin. He combined his daily labors with reading books, studying church singing, traveling across the Urals, and engaging in discussions with those of other faiths.

The young man attracted the attention of Bishop Anthony (Paromov) of Perm and Tobolsk. In the summer of 1906, Anthony ordained Ivan to the diaconate. And on November 12 of the same year, he was ordained a priest. Father Ioann was tasked with establishing a parish in the settlement of Sarana.

The priest remained there for two years, but a community was never formed—local New Ritualists and priestless Old Believers opposed it. Thus, Kudrin was transferred to the village of Rukhtino, where priestly Old Believers lived and where a stone church was under construction.

In 1909, the completed church was consecrated in honor of the Nativity of Christ. Ioann served there for ten years. It was here that the October Revolution and the ensuing Civil War caught up with him.

In 1919, the priest and his family left Rukhtino, fleeing the advancing Red Army. Since many Old Believers were fighting against the communists and needed spiritual guidance, the generals of the White Army offered Kudrin the position of chief Old Believer priest of the army and navy.

Ioann agreed and served in this role for several years, retreating with the White forces from the Urals to the Far East, enduring the hardships and misfortunes of war. Many times, he risked his life, tending to the wounded and dying under cannon and machine-gun fire.

But the Whites lost the Civil War. Thousands of Russians, fearing Bolshevik brutality, fled to Manchuria, to the city of Harbin.

In 1923, Ioann also moved there. He became the rector of a small Old Believer parish in the city. By that time, Bishop Joseph (Antipin), who had previously overseen communities in the Far East, was already living in Harbin.

The faithful gathered for prayer in the bishop’s home, which was inconvenient. At a general meeting of the parishioners, it was decided to build a church. The bishop and the priest took an active role in this sacred endeavor.

On Christmas Day in 1924, Bishop Joseph elevated Ioann Kudrin to the rank of protopope (protopriest). And on August 16 of that year, the foundation stone of the Old Believer church was solemnly laid.

The community faced financial difficulties. But the bishop was so inspired by the construction of the church that when money ran out, he donated all his savings to the project. At last, the church was completed and consecrated on June 22, 1925, in honor of the Holy Apostles Peter and Paul.

In 1945, the state of Manchuria ceased to exist. And in 1949, it was annexed to China. Life became unbearable for Russians in Harbin. Many emigrated to Australia and America.

But the priest continued serving in the church until almost all of his parishioners had left. In October 1957, Ioann, along with his family, set out for Australia, where his son Alexander was already living.

Before his departure, the few remaining Old Believers entrusted Ioann with icons, sacred vessels, and books from the Church of Sts. Peter and Paul so that they would not fall into the hands of the Chinese.

In January 1958, the Kudrin family set sail for Australia from Hong Kong. On the journey, a tragedy occurred—on January 15, Anna Kudrina suddenly passed away.

That morning, she saw a shark in the sea and sighed:

— Death has come for me! I will die here, on this ship. They will cast me into the sea to be devoured by sharks. I will never see Australia, nor my children.

Her companions tried to reassure her, saying that they had already traveled halfway, that the ship would soon arrive in port, and that nothing terrible would happen. But she went to her cabin, lay down, and by noon, she had passed away.

The priest had to conduct her funeral service and, contrary to Christian custom, bury her not in the earth but in the depths of the sea. After this unusual burial, Ioann told his children and grandchildren:

— Pushkin has an imperishable monument, and now your grandmother has one too. God created the ocean, and now it will be her monument, one that no one can destroy.

The loss of his wife deeply grieved the elderly priest and took a toll on his health.

In Australia, Protopriest Ioann settled in the city of Sydney. Through his efforts, a church was established there in honor of the Holy Apostles Peter and Paul. The first Divine Liturgy in it was celebrated on January 7, 1959, on the feast of the Nativity.

But in February of that year, the priest suffered a mild heart attack. Then came a second. Kudrin’s entire right side became paralyzed. He lost the ability to move and speak, though he remained fully conscious.

After a prolonged illness, Protopope Ioann passed away on June 29, 1960. He was buried far from his homeland, in the suburbs of Sydney.

A Universal Lesson

The Gospel contains not only the account of the life and teachings of Jesus Christ—the true God and Son of God. It also records the names of those who betrayed the Lord, condemned Him to crucifixion, and carried out His execution—Judas the Apostle, the high priests Annas and Caiaphas, and the Roman governor Pontius Pilate.

Judas betrayed his Teacher for thirty pieces of silver. After Christ was sentenced to be crucified, the apostle repented, returned the money to the high priests and elders, and then hanged himself. In the Russian language, the name Judas has become synonymous with traitor.

For the instruction of future generations, Church history preserves not only the names of the righteous—ascetics, martyrs, and confessors—but also the names of Judases—heretics, apostates, and betrayers.

In the dark days when the Soviet government was destroying the Church, some believers thought that it was easier to abandon their faith in order to save their lives rather than endure suffering for Christ. These unfortunate people traded eternal heavenly bliss for temporary earthly well-being. Sadly, at times, even members of the clergy were found among these Judases…

One devoted servant of God was Priest Makary Varfolomeevich Zakharyichev.

He was born in 1864 in the village of Zhuravlikha to a family of Old Believer peasants. He received a home education—learning to read from the Psalter and to sing using kryuki (the Old Believer chant notation).

In 1890, at the request of his fellow villagers, Makary was ordained a priest. His faithful companion and helper was his wife, Feodosia Stepanovna. The couple had six children.

Two years later, Makary Varfolomeevich was transferred to the city of Samara. At that time, the local Christians worshiped in a house church. Through the priest’s efforts, a magnificent iconostasis was installed in it. For his zealous service, Makary was elevated to protopope in 1903.

But the city chapel could no longer accommodate all the parishioners. So in 1913, the Samara community began constructing a large stone church.

A plot of land and substantial funds for the construction were provided by Maria Kondratyevna Sanina—the widow of the wealthy Old Believer merchant Ivan Lvovich Sanin, a well-known and respected entrepreneur and philanthropist in Samara.

Three years later, the cathedral, dedicated to the Kazan Icon of the Mother of God, was completed and consecrated. But after the revolution, in 1918, the church was placed under municipal control. Dark times began for the community.

In 1921, Makary suffered a personal tragedy—his wife, Feodosia Stepanovna, passed away.

Several years went by. At the persistent request of Samara’s Christians, the widowed priest was honored with episcopal consecration. Everyone believed that the respected pastor, a dignified widower, and a father of many children, would be a good bishop.

In 1924, Makary Varfolomeevich took monastic vows and was given the name Mikhail. Then, Archbishop Meletius consecrated him as bishop of Samara. But Bishop Mikhail governed his flock for less than a year.

The devil tempted and destroyed him. The bishop became acquainted with a certain Anisiya Druzhinina, a woman from the village of Rozhdestveno, located on the opposite bank of the Volga, directly across from Samara.

Abandoning his parishioners and his church, the bishop moved in with Anisiya. She constantly reproached Zakharyichev for not being able to provide her with a luxurious life, demanding that he find a “real” job.

In June 1925, the Church tribunal suspended Mikhail from his duties for inappropriate behavior. Realizing that he had traded Christ, his flock, and his rank for Anisiya, the bishop fell into despair. But instead of repenting, he sought to silence his conscience with vodka.

The communists offered Zakharyichev a deal: if he publicly renounced his episcopal rank, they would secure for him a well-paid position. And Mikhail agreed.

The renunciation took place on October 1, 1925, at the Samara City Theater, during a public debate on religion, in front of a large audience.

The emergence of a new Judas made a heavy impression on the Old Believers. Even the apostate himself was deeply troubled by his betrayal. Immediately after the incident at the theater, he was visited by Priest Khariton Glinkin from Syzran.

Zakharyichev was dressed in secular clothing. His long hair, traditionally worn by clergy, had been cut short.

Astonished, Khariton asked:

— Is it true what they say about you?

After a moment of silence, the former bishop sighed:

— What is done cannot be undone.

After further questioning, Zakharyichev anxiously insisted that he had not renounced God:

— There He is! I believe and will continue to believe. I will go to Him, just by another path.

A month later, the former bishop came to confess before the Samara priest Grigory Maslov and repented of everything. But his repentance was insincere. Zakharyichev did not part with Anisiya or with vodka.

He moved from place to place, living in different villages and cities. For a time, he managed a warehouse at a brewery.

In March 1930, the apostate returned to Rozhdestveno, to Anisiya’s home. And on the morning of July 28 of that same year, the former Bishop Mikhail hanged himself.

With sorrow, Bishop Irinarkh (Parfenov) wrote about this to Archbishop Meletius:

“He followed in Judas’ footsteps! That one betrayed Christ and hanged himself. And Mikhail also renounced Him. And instead of weeping and accepting repentance, he ended his temporary life by suicide. Where did his soul go? There is a limit to everything. One cannot mock the omnipotence of God. This is a universal lesson.”

On Smoking Tobacco

(from the teachings of Bishop Innokenty)

Last time, I showed how dreadful and ruinous, how harmful and sinful, how soul-destroying and repulsive the passion for drunkenness is. But no matter how destructive and shameful this vice may be, there exists another passion that is even more loathsome and even more harmful.

I am speaking of the unnatural habit of many people to cloud their minds and deaden their consciences with the stupefying smoke of poisonous plants—namely, tobacco. What could be more disgraceful and sinful than this vile indulgence?

A drunkard, when poisoning himself with alcohol, at least does so in a natural way—he drinks as nature has taught man to drink water. But the smoker poisons himself with smoke, taking it into his mouth and into his body.

Did God ordain that man should sustain himself with smoke? Is it natural to take the foul-smelling fumes of a poisonous plant into one’s mouth, to swallow it, or to inhale it, poisoning oneself? This is contrary to nature, contrary to the laws of creation, and therefore contrary to God, who established these laws.

Smoking tobacco, being an unnatural passion, places a person below the senseless beasts. If, according to the testimony of Saint John Chrysostom, a drunkard is worse than a donkey or a dog because of his lack of self-restraint, then how much worse is the tobacco smoker?

After all, a drunkard does not poison himself constantly, not every hour of the day. There are times when he sobers up, sometimes for long periods. But a tobacco addict poisons himself every hour—sometimes even several times within an hour. And at night, he has no rest: some will wake up ten times to smoke before morning.

To the smoker, nothing is sacred—neither fasting, nor feast days, nor prayer. Tobacco stands above God for him. As soon as he rises in the morning, instead of praying to God, he takes up his tobacco. And he does this regardless of whether it is a fast or a feast. If, by some effort, he restrains himself from smoking before the Liturgy, then during the entire service, his thoughts are consumed only with tobacco…

For the smoker, tobacco is like an idol to an idolater. In fact, tobacco is even worse than an idol.

An idol did not physically poison those who served it—it only separated them from the true God and cast their souls into destruction. But tobacco not only separates a man from God and hurls him into the abyss of perdition, but it also stupefies his mind, deadens his conscience, and degrades him below even the lowest of animals.

Bishop Raphael

In the mid-19th century, certain writings began to spread among the Old Believers, promoting an unusual new teaching. These texts claimed that wine and potatoes were supposedly created by the devil and that Christians should not consume them. They also predicted the date of the end of the world and the Second Coming of Christ.

But most significantly, they declared that the Nikonians believed in and worshiped a different god—not the true God, Jesus Christ, but the Antichrist Jesus, who supposedly sat on the thrones of the Synodal Church’s temples.

Regarding this claim, it is important to note that in ancient Slavic books, the name of the Savior was traditionally written as Isus (Ісусъ). Under Patriarch Nikon, this spelling was altered to follow the Greek form—Iisus (Іисусъ). Disputes over how to write and pronounce the name of Christ became one of the causes of the Church schism.

However, never had it occurred to any Old Believer to declare that the name Iisus was the name of the Antichrist.

These absurd speculations caused considerable scandal among the faithful. Therefore, in 1862, on behalf of Archbishop Anthony, the Circular Epistle was issued to oppose this new teaching. It was prepared by the nachetchik Kabanov.

The Epistle stated:

“The most holy, most sweet, most beloved, and most desirable name of Christ our Savior we write and pronounce in reading and singing as ‘Isus,’ just as it was first translated into our Slavic language by the ancient holy translators. And so it was written and pronounced until Nikon, the former patriarch. We do not dare to revile the form ‘Iisus,’ written and pronounced by today’s Greeks and Russians, nor do we call it the name of another Jesus or the name of Christ’s adversary. For today, in Russia, the ruling Church, as well as the Greek Church, confesses the same Christ the Savior under this name. The only difference lies in the addition of a single vowel, ‘i,’ to the name ‘Isus,’ which results in ‘Iisus’ in print and pronunciation.”

However, intended to denounce heresy and unite the flock, the Epistle itself became a cause of discord.

Some Christians saw it as a betrayal of Orthodoxy and an attempt to appease the Synodal Church. Heated theological disputes erupted. Seeing the turmoil caused by the Epistle, the Council of Russian Bishops ordered its destruction.

But this did not help. The Old Believers split into supporters of the Circular Epistle—Okruzhniki—and its opponents—Neokruzhniki, or Anti-Okruzhniki.

The Belokrinitsa Metropolitan Cyril could not decide which side to take in the dispute and repeatedly changed his stance. Supporting the Neokruzhniki, he consecrated Bishop Anthony (Klimov) for them in 1864. This bishop became the founder of the schismatic Neokruzhniki branch of the Belokrinitsa hierarchy.

Among the Neokruzhniki, there were constant quarrels and conflicts. Their movement splintered into several warring factions.

Gradually, as they realized their error, the schismatics reconciled with the Ancient Orthodox Church and returned to it. The few remaining Neokruzhniki communities survived until the mid-20th century.

Bishop Peter (Glazov), the last schismatic bishop, died after the end of the Great Patriotic War. His flock, left without clergy, submitted to the authority of the Moscow Archbishop.

Among the Neokruzhniki bishops, Bishop Raphael is particularly notable. Not only did he overcome the schism and reunite with the Church, but he also sealed this holy unity with his martyrdom.

The future bishop, Roman Alexandrovich Voropayev, was born in 1872 in Little Russia, in the village of Novo-Nikolaevskoye, to a family of Neokruzhniki Old Believers. In his youth, Roman caught the attention of the local priest.

The priest said to Roman’s father:

— Alexander, we will prepare your son for the priesthood.

— No. I am already old, and our household is large. This son is my eldest; he must take care of our land, — Voropayev replied.

— Alexander, the hand of the Lord has pointed to your son. If you do not give your consent, I will excommunicate you from the Church! — the priest insisted.

Thus, Alexander Voropayev agreed. His son was first ordained a deacon and later a priest.

In 1920, Roman Voropayev was widowed, left with six children, the youngest of whom was barely three years old. In the autumn of 1921, the Neokruzhniki bishop Pavel (Turkin) tonsured the widowed priest into monasticism, giving him the name Raphael, and consecrated him as a bishop.

However, by May 1922, Bishop Raphael had reconciled with the Church and attended the council held at Rogozhskoye Cemetery in Moscow. From then on, he was a permanent participant in all Church Councils.

He was entrusted with overseeing parishes in various regions of Ukraine—Kharkiv, Kyiv, Odesa, and Cherkasy. Everywhere he served, Raphael proved to be a wise and kind shepherd.

These were terrifying times—marked by famine and unrest. The bishop often had to console his parishioners:

— If you are suffering, look at those who are suffering even more. Then it will seem easier to bear.

When he heard one Christian judging another, he would admonish:

— You see how a person sins. But you do not see how he repents.

In 1934–1935, the hierarch corresponded with many bishops and priests regarding the election of the Moscow Archbishop. Raphael supported Bishop Gury (Spirin) of Nizhny Novgorod. However, Bishop Vikenty (Nikitin) was chosen instead.

While residing in Cherkasy, on October 8, 1937, Bishop Raphael received a summons to appear at the police station. Knowing of no crime he had committed, he went without hesitation. He was immediately arrested and taken in for interrogation. The bishop was accused of speaking ill of the Soviet government.

Two informers testified against him. One claimed:

— During a church service, the priest said that the parishioners must defend their church. The communists will confiscate all churches and church property.

The second informer alleged that he had overheard the bishop at a market saying that the Bolsheviks were eliminating the best people and predicting a German invasion and the collapse of the Soviet Union.

The next day, on October 9, Bishop Raphael was officially charged with inciting rebellion against the Communist Party and the Soviet government. A few days later, he was sentenced to death. And on October 24, 1937, Raphael was executed by firing squad.

The body of the holy martyr, along with those of other executed prisoners, was buried in the Jewish cemetery in Cherkasy. Today, the mass grave of the executed is lost. A city park now stands on the site of the former cemetery.

Bishop Vikenty

No foreign invaders, no outsiders, no pagans or infidels could have devised torments as terrible as those inflicted upon Russia by the communists. Our country was turned into one vast prison. The tsarist penal system was replaced by labor camps. These were called correctional labor camps because, in the minds of the Bolsheviks, prisoners were meant to be reformed through labor.

A mere image of the slain Tsar Nicholas II, a joke about the Reds, or attending a church service could be grounds for denunciation. Denunciations, imprisonment, interrogations, torture, the labor camps, or execution became the everyday horrors of Soviet life. Millions of people passed through this hellish torment.

Among them was Bishop Vikenty, a martyr and confessor of the Christian faith. He endured and perished in the dungeons, like thousands of other innocent souls—slandered, tortured, and forgotten.

Vasily Semyonovich Nikitin—the future saint—was born on May 28, 1892, in the Kostroma village of Zamolodino, to a family of Old Believer Cossacks. His father, Semyon Nikitin, had faithfully served the Tsar and the Fatherland in the Russo-Turkish War of 1877–1878.

From that war, he brought back a beautiful Turkish woman, whom he baptized and married. At that time, such marriages were not uncommon.

Settling in Zamolodino, Nikitin became a merchant. His business prospered, and soon he moved with his family to Kostroma, where they owned a house. However, his wife passed away early, leaving Nikitin to raise their children alone.

His wealth allowed him to provide them with a good education. In 1906, the merchant sent his son Vasily to study in Moscow at the Old Believer City School. Upon completing his education in 1910, Vasily returned to Kostroma. He chose the path of teaching and began giving lessons in Russian language.

Two years later, Vasily moved to the Perm village of Ocher. There, many Old Believers worked at the local factory, and through their efforts, a church was built in 1912, alongside which a school was established. Nikitin taught at that school for a year.

In 1913, Vasily left for Moscow and enrolled in the Old Believer Theological and Teaching Institute. However, he did not complete his studies—the First World War began. In 1916, Nikitin was drafted into the army.

In October 1917, the revolution took place. Afterward, the persecution of Old Believers resumed, harsher and more relentless than ever.

For Vasily, the war ended in 1918. He returned to Kostroma and married Maria Ivanovna Mokhova, the choir director of the local church. Although Maria was three years older than her husband, they lived in harmony. In June 1919, the young couple welcomed their daughter, Kaleria.

However, in August, Vasily was drafted once more—this time into the Red Army. For two years, Nikitin served as a cultural officer, teaching illiterate Red Army soldiers to read and write. He rejoiced at the moment he was finally discharged.

The very day after returning home, Vasily Nikitin was ordained a priest for the parish in the village of Kunikovo.

Before long, Vasily met Bishop Geronty (Lakomkin), a native of Kostroma. The bishop frequently visited his homeland, assisting his fellow countrymen in building churches and establishing schools. He was greatly impressed by the educated and active young priest.

Together, they founded several church schools. However, there was a shortage of teachers, so in 1924, it was decided to begin training parish teachers in secret from the Bolsheviks. The authorities soon caught wind of this. Vasily was arrested and held in custody for about a month before being released on the condition that he would not leave the area.

Staying in Kunikovo was too dangerous. Therefore, on the advice of Geronty, in February 1925, the priest was transferred to Moscow, to serve at the churches of Rogozhskoye Cemetery.

But life had prepared for the young priest a new trial, the most painful and sorrowful yet. In January 1926, Maria Ivanovna suddenly passed away. Vasily was left with his daughter Kaleria and his son Lev. His grief was immeasurable—he lost weight, his face grew gaunt and dark. He often visited his wife’s grave and wept.

In September 1928, the last Church Council before a long hiatus was convened—after this, the communists forbade councils from taking place. At this council, Vasily was offered episcopal consecration.

The priest refused, but he was persuaded with great difficulty. It was decided that he would become the archpastor for Christians in the Caucasus. Humbly accepting, Vasily tearfully pleaded:

— Just do not abandon my children!

During the very session of the Council, the priest took monastic vows with the name Vikenty. A week later, he was consecrated a bishop. Along with his children, he departed for Yessentuki, where he settled in a small guardhouse near the church.

But in his new place of service, further troubles awaited the bishop. On April 13, 1932, he was arrested and imprisoned. The charges against Vikenty were absurd—he was accused of uniting Christians in the Caucasus to fight against the Bolsheviks, of preparing an armed uprising, of spying on Soviet military secrets for Romania, and of possessing a portrait of Tsar Nicholas II.

The bishop was sentenced to ten years in a labor camp. However, he served only one. He had suffered from leg ailments since the war, and in captivity, his condition worsened. Thus, in September 1933, he was granted early release on account of his health.

In 1934, the head of the Russian Church, Bishop Meletius, passed away. A council needed to be convened to elect a new archbishop. However, under the prevailing circumstances, this was impossible.

Correspondence among the bishops ensued. As a result, Bishop Vikenty was chosen as locum tenens—the temporary head of the Church.

The saint settled in Moscow, serving not only in the Intercession Cathedral at Rogozhskoye Cemetery but also in all the remaining Old Believer churches. After the Divine Liturgy, he would deliver sermons—an act of great courage in those times.

But Bishop Vikenty’s tenure as locum tenens was short-lived. On January 30, 1938, the newspaper Izvestia published a slanderous article titled The Archbishop of All Russia, aimed at discrediting the hierarch in the eyes of the faithful. He was accused of every imaginable and unimaginable crime—allegedly, he had been a White Army officer, a Romanian spy, a notorious drunkard, and a fraudster. Thus began the persecution of the bishop.

On the evening of March 5, 1938, Bishop Vikenty was arrested and taken to prison. There, after yet another round of interrogations, he died on the night of April 13 from severe beatings. His executioners burned his body, and his ashes were buried in a mass grave at the Donskoye Cemetery.

Bishop Geronty

The life of Bishop Geronty reflects the history of the Church in the 19th and 20th centuries like a mirror. Overcoming many hardships, he preserved both his sincere faith and the dignity of his episcopal rank.

Grigory Lakomkin—the future saint—was born on August 1, 1872, in the Kostroma village of Zolotilovo to the family of Priest Ioann Lakomkin. His parish was poor, so the priest’s family had to sustain themselves through peasant labor. In addition, Ioann was constantly persecuted by the authorities. The heavy and troubled life took a toll on him—he fell ill with tuberculosis and passed away.

Under the guidance of his older brother, Grigory studied church singing and liturgical rules. In 1896, he married a pious young woman, Anna Dmitrievna Pechneva.

According to the custom of the bride’s village, the newlyweds were expected to dance at the wedding. But Grigory refused to participate and forbade Anna as well:

— If you allow dancing, then you will no longer be my bride but Satan’s. In that case, I must leave this gathering and no longer consider you my betrothed.

The dancing did not take place, surprising the guests, who whispered:

— The Old Believers are so stubborn—they refuse to follow local customs!

In 1899, Lakomkin was drafted into the army. After serving for five years, as was customary, he returned home. In 1906, Bishop Innokenty ordained him a priest for the village of Strelnikovo, near Kostroma, where the previous rector had unexpectedly died.

The bishop warned the young priest:

— The people in this village are given to heavy drinking; they are quick-tempered.

When Lakomkin arrived, he found the church in a wretched state—there was no iconostasis, dirt and grime were everywhere, and the ceiling seemed ready to collapse. The affairs of the parish were in disarray.

The widow of the previous priest wept as she told him:

— The people here are terrible, like wild beasts—drunkards. May God grant that you serve even one month. You will starve!

But through Grigory’s diligence, the church was repaired and rebuilt, a parish school was established, and a temperance brotherhood was formed. The church choir of Strelnikovo became one of the finest in Russia, and the parish itself became exemplary.

In 1908, the priest was widowed—Anna Dmitrievna passed away suddenly. At the Church Council of 1911, the widowed priest was elected bishop for Saint Petersburg and Tver. Grigory took monastic vows with the name Geronty and was then consecrated a bishop.

Bishop Geronty was one of the most active hierarchs. He participated in church councils, engaged in educational work, and worked tirelessly to build new churches and open parish schools.

Then came the year 1917. Archbishop Meletius left for the Don. In Moscow, only Bishop Alexander (Bogatenkov) of Ryazan remained. He asked Geronty to travel across the country and send reports on the state of church affairs.

In one of his letters, Geronty compared the Church to a vineyard and foretold impending calamities:

“Most seem to be asleep and have entirely abandoned this field and vineyard, being carried away by other pursuits. Woe, terrible woe awaits us—the sleepers and the negligent! The Master will surely demand a full account of everything. How shall we justify ourselves? And what will become of the vineyard?”

His prophecy soon came to pass—the Church’s vineyard was trampled underfoot by the communists.

In 1933, the cathedral at Gromovskoye Cemetery in Leningrad was closed and blown up. A year earlier, on April 13, 1932, Bishop Geronty had been arrested and imprisoned.

The bishop was sentenced to ten years, allegedly for opposing the Soviet government. Upon hearing his sentence, he asked:

— Could you not give me more?

When told that a longer term was not possible, he responded:

— Thank God that I am already 60 years old! I must live to 70 and serve my sentence honestly. After that, either I will die or I will go home.

The saint’s courage astonished the judges and interrogators. But life in captivity was harsh for him.

As a monk, he did not eat meat and had to subsist on bread alone. This led to the development of scurvy in prison—his teeth became so loose that they could be pulled out by hand. His legs swelled so badly that he could no longer fit them into his boots.

From prison, Geronty was sent to a labor camp. His beard was shamefully shaved off. He was transferred from one camp to another several times. Everywhere he saw the same horrors: thousands of innocent prisoners, cruel treatment, backbreaking labor, starvation, and disease.

The bishop discovered that a miraculous cure for many ailments was a special pine-needle kvass that he devised.

In one of the camps, he was assigned as an assistant to the prison doctor. There, he decided to make kvass from pine needles. He even invented a machine to pluck the needles efficiently. The drink turned out to be excellent! The camp authorities valued his work and took a liking to the tart beverage themselves.

Thus, when Bishop Geronty’s ten-year sentence ended in 1942, he was kept in the camp to continue overseeing the preparation of kvass and the collection of mushrooms, berries, and pine needles. He was even given a salary of 200 rubles per month. However, since the Great Patriotic War was underway, he donated his earnings to support the defense of the Motherland.

It was not until November 5, 1942, that Geronty was able to return to Strelnikovo. In 1943, Archbishop Irinarkh (Parfenov) invited him to Moscow and appointed him as his assistant.

In 1944, Old Believers received permission to publish a church calendar for the following year. Geronty took on the task of preparing the publication. He hoped that the authorities would eventually allow the printing of a Christian journal and the reopening of a seminary to train priests. Unfortunately, these hopes were never realized.

In 1948, the communists returned the Resurrection Church-bell tower at Rogozhskoye Cemetery to the faithful. From then on, daily services were conducted there. In 1949, the former funeral chapel was transferred to the archbishop’s administration. It was renovated, and Archbishop Irinarkh, along with his assistants, moved into it.

Geronty remained a constant and tireless participant in all church affairs. In 1949, he wrote a memoir—an impartial testimony of those times.

Reflecting on his life, he wrote:

“Glory be to God for everything! But it is a great sorrow that so little, far too little, was accomplished. More should have been done, but frailty, weakness, and the vanity of life have stolen much time into idleness—for which I must answer before God.”

In October 1950, the bishop fell ill with pneumonia. He had suffered frequent and prolonged illnesses before—his years in the labor camps had taken their toll. But this final illness proved to be his last.

On May 25, 1951, Bishop Geronty departed from his earthly labors and cares, entering into eternal rest in the Kingdom of Heaven.

The Church and War

In thirty years of Soviet terror, the communists accomplished what the tsarist authorities had failed to do in 250 years of Old Believer persecution. The Church was nearly destroyed.

The communists imposed enormous taxes on priests. Some, unable to pay, renounced their priesthood. Others sought help from their parishioners. When this assistance proved insufficient, priests were forced to sell their possessions—everything from houses, horses, and cows to samovars, glasses, and teaspoons.

The Bolsheviks banned the religious upbringing of children. In schools, teachers mockingly told students that God did not exist. They instilled in them the belief that faith in God was shameful, something primitive and ignorant, claiming that only illiterate old women believed in Him.

On church holidays, especially Easter, teachers stood outside churches to ensure that children and young people did not enter. Even harmless traditions, such as Christmas trees and gifts, were forbidden.

Students were inspected to see if they wore crosses. If a child was found wearing one, it was torn from their neck. The unfortunate student was brought before the class and publicly shamed.

Churches stood empty. The number of priests dwindled to levels unseen since the persecutions under Nicholas I. Almost all bishops had been executed. The elderly and ailing Bishop Savva (Ananyev) of Kaluga and Smolensk lived out his final days, while Bishops Geronty (Lakomkin) and Irinarkh (Parfenov) languished in labor camps.

In 1936, Irinarkh was released from prison and moved in with relatives in Kostroma. He was so terrified that he no longer engaged in church affairs.

In the spring of 1941, he was summoned by the head of the city militia. Expecting more trouble, Irinarkh was astonished when he was told that Moscow’s Old Believers were searching for him and urgently requested his presence at Rogozhskoye Cemetery.

In the capital, he was met by Protopope Vasily Korolev (1891–1962), the rector of the Intercession Cathedral. Together, they traveled to Kaluga, where Bishop Savva consecrated Irinarkh as Archbishop of Moscow and All Russia.

That summer, on June 22, 1941, the Great Patriotic War began. Germany attacked the Soviet Union.

This was not merely a war for territory or global influence. The Germans considered themselves a superior race and viewed the Slavs as worthless savages fit only for servitude. They sought to exterminate the Russian people and erase all memory of them. They intended to settle on Russian lands and turn any surviving Russians into their slaves.

Archbishop Irinarkh addressed his flock with an appeal:

“Let every man who can bear a sword go forth to the battlefield. Let every man who can work in the fields, factories, and workshops labor honestly for the good of our homeland.”

As bitter as Soviet rule was for the Old Believers, falling under German occupation would have been even worse. From the very beginning of the war, thousands of Christians enlisted in the Red Army. They understood that Germany was not merely fighting the Soviet Union—it was waging war against Russia and the Russian people.

To this day, in the remnants of battlefields, in mass graves, collapsed dugouts, and overgrown trenches, search teams frequently uncover Old Believer crosses and cast icons—a testament to the Old Believers who never returned from war.

On the home front, believers sought to support the army. At the Intercession Cathedral, donations were collected during services. Across the country, Old Believers contributed 1,200,000 rubles to the defense of the homeland.

By October 1941, the Germans were approaching Moscow. Battles raged at the city’s outskirts. The Soviet government decided to evacuate the leaders of major religious communities to the rear, to the city of Ulyanovsk. Among those chosen for evacuation was Archbishop Irinarkh.

They were to travel by train, with a special carriage assigned to representatives of different faiths. The war had temporarily set aside religious divisions. The Old Believer archbishop shared his journey with the Nikonian Metropolitan Sergius (Stragorodsky), the future Moscow Patriarch.

Yet, despite this, Old Believers continued to face accusations of opposing the Soviet government.

For instance, in 1942, in the Ural village of Pristan, the priest Nikifor Zaplatin was accused of allegedly urging men preparing for war to defect to the Germans and sabotage the Red Army during confession. The authorities demanded that he name those who had confessed to him, but he refused to betray anyone.

The slandered priest disappeared into the labor camps, never to be seen again…

In March 1943, after fierce and bloody battles, the Red Army drove the Germans out of Rzhev. The city had been almost completely erased from the face of the earth. Only a few buildings remained standing, among them the Old Believer Intercession Church. The German occupiers had herded 300 surviving townspeople into the church and rigged it with explosives.

However, in their hasty retreat, the Germans failed to detonate the charges. The townspeople remained locked in the church for three days without food or water. Among them were believers and non-believers, Old Believers and Nikonians, Russians and non-Russians. Those who knew how to pray did so, while those who did not asked others to pray for them.

The people of Rzhev were freed when Soviet soldiers arrived. When the troops disarmed the explosives and opened the doors of the church, there were no longer any atheists among the survivors. A shared suffering had opened their spiritual eyes.

In 1944, when the Red Army occupied Moldova, Archbishop Irinarkh gave his blessing for the printing and distribution of pamphlets urging the local Old Believers to support the Soviet forces.

In May 1945, the war came to an end. The archbishop sent a letter of congratulations to the Supreme Commander:

“The glory of your remarkable victory shall never fade. Future generations will recall these days of Russian triumph with pride.”

Archbishop Irinarkh passed away on March 7, 1952. He was succeeded as Moscow Archbishop by Bishop Flavian (Slesarev).

In November of the same year, Flavian received a letter from Romania, written by Metropolitan Tikhon (Kachalkin) of Belokrinitsa.

Tikhon wrote that in 1944, the Germans had bombed the printing house that produced liturgical books. The Old Believers in Romania were now in great need of books. Was it possible to send them from Moscow?

He also expressed his desire to retire but wished first to transfer the residence of the Old Believer Metropolitans from Brăila to Moscow and elevate Archbishop Flavian to the rank of Metropolitan.

Unfortunately, this plan was not realized at the time. It was only in 1988 that the Moscow Archbishop was officially elevated to the rank of Metropolitan.

Andrei Popov

The city of Rzhev had long been known for its large Old Believer community. At the beginning of the 20th century, many of its inhabitants adhered to the ancient faith.

The city had two Old Believer churches. Of one, the Trinity Church, only the bell tower has survived to this day. However, the second church, the Intercession Church, remains intact.

The wooden Church of the Holy Trinity, with its stone bell tower and chapel dedicated to Archangel Michael, was laid in 1906 and consecrated three years later.

The stone Church of the Intercession of the Most Holy Theotokos was founded in 1908, built by the renowned architect Martyanov. By 1910, the new church was consecrated. Ten years later, Father Andrei Popov was assigned to serve there.

Andrei Pavlovich Popov was born in 1883 in the village of Zadvorka on the Vetluga River, a tributary of the Volga. His parents, Pavel and Pelageya, were simple Old Believer peasants.

In his youth, Andrei aspired to become a teacher. He left home to enroll in a teacher’s seminary, completed his studies, and returned to his parents.

In 1910, Andrei married Alexandra, the younger sister of Father Nikandr Ivanovich Kolin, who served in the neighboring village of Budilikha. A year later, Andrei Popov was ordained to the priesthood by Bishop Innokenty of Nizhny Novgorod.

The young priest was assigned to the village of Kovernino on the Uzola River, another tributary of the Volga. In 1916, he was sent as a regimental priest to serve in the active army on the battlefields of World War I. For his bravery, he was awarded the Cross of St. George.

Returning from the war, the priest was forced to go into hiding from the Bolsheviks in Budilikha, at his wife’s relatives’ home. He could no longer live and serve in Kovernino. To save Father Andrei from persecution, the church authorities secretly reassigned him to the Intercession Church in Rzhev.

Popov and his family arrived in Rzhev in May 1920. Having spent several years in enforced idleness, he zealously resumed church affairs. A gifted preacher, he tirelessly delivered God’s word and dedicated himself to the spiritual education of his parishioners.

Father Andrei devoted particular effort and time to the church choir, as he was well-versed in and loved Znamenny chant. Later, in recognition of his tireless service, Bishop Geronty elevated Andrei Popov to the rank of protopope. On this occasion, the parishioners presented their pastor with a gold pectoral cross.

The Soviet authorities, however, had their own judgment of Andrei Popov’s efforts. Before Easter in 1929, he was arrested and sent to prison. He was then sentenced to five years in a labor camp, followed by two years of exile in Astrakhan.

During this time, in the summer of 1932, Father Nikandr Kolin was murdered. He had been rowing in a boat on the Vetluga River, traveling to a neighboring village to perform religious rites. The assassin lay in ambush and shot him with a rifle.

The priest’s body was later discovered in the boat, far downstream. No one was ever held accountable for the crime.

In September 1934, the Bolsheviks closed the Trinity Church in Rzhev. The House of God was repurposed as a club. Now, instead of the Divine Liturgy being celebrated on Sundays, dances were held there. During the war, the church burned down, leaving only its bell tower.

However, much of the Trinity Church’s icons, books, and liturgical items were saved from destruction by Deacon Feodot Tikhomirov, who had served there. He managed to preserve these sacred objects and transfer them to the Intercession Church.

Father Popov returned to Rzhev in 1936. Yet, the authorities did not permit him to serve at the Intercession Church. Instead, he moved to the town of Taldom, where he served for several years at the small Church of Archangel Michael.

Shortly before the outbreak of the Great Patriotic War, the communists closed the church in Taldom. The priest returned to Rzhev. This time, he was allowed to serve at the Intercession Church.

Then, the war began.

In August 1941, the Germans entered Rzhev. Father Andrei did not flee the city. In those dark days, he remained with his flock. Services continued to be held in the church.

However, the number of parishioners steadily dwindled. Some were killed in bombings and shelling. Others were executed by the occupiers. Some were taken to Germany for forced labor.

It was impossible to walk the streets of Rzhev unnoticed. One day, the Germans spotted a dark-haired man whom they mistook for a Jew and wanted to execute.

However, the man tried to explain that he was Russian, a parishioner of the Old Believer church, and that Father Popov knew him. The Germans took the detainee to the priest. Andrei confirmed that the man was his parishioner, Vinogradov, thus saving his life.

More than once, the protopope saved people. He sheltered those who came to the city and feared falling into the hands of the occupiers. In his house, there was a Russian stove, and beneath it—a space for firewood.

Popov hid those seeking refuge there.

But traitors were watching the priest. Due to their denunciations, the Germans repeatedly came to his home to search it. However, they never thought to check under the stove.

On the evening of September 12, 1942, a fire broke out in the city.

Protopope Andrei, Deacon Feodot, and several parishioners climbed the church bell tower to see where the fire was burning. After observing the blaze, they began descending and entering the church.

At that moment, a German soldier ran up and shot Popov at point-blank range.

The priest fell, crying out:
— Why such punishment?

More shots followed.

The parishioners rushed over, lifted their bloodied pastor, carried him into the church, and laid him on the floor near the right choir stall.

Popov had been shot in the abdomen with an explosive bullet. It passed through him and tore open his back. For two hours, the priest lay dying in excruciating agony, having lost a great deal of blood. Yet, he endured his suffering with patience. He even had the strength to bid farewell to his parishioners.

The protopope passed away. He was hastily buried near the church, on the southern side, without the customary hymns.

Christians appealed to the German officers, asking them to punish the murderer. But the officers refused to investigate the death of the “Russian priest” and even threatened the believers with more executions.

The Germans entered the Intercession Church. They behaved insolently, disrupting prayers and committing outrages. They put on wedding crowns and priestly vestments, danced in them, and sang. They sat on the holy altar and drank alcohol. The soldiers stabbed and shot through the old liturgical books.

Only after Rzhev was liberated from the Germans and the new priest, Ioann Prozorov, arrived in the city were the appropriate prayers finally offered over Andrei Popov’s grave. The protopope’s grave has been preserved to this day.

On the Old Faith

(from the spiritual testament of Bishop Geronty)

Remember, dear ones, that we believe in the Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church, the Church of Christ. And we remain steadfast in the true old faith, in which the saints and righteous ones of God lived. That is why, unlike others, we are called Old Believers.

We uphold the sacred traditions and ancient rites in which all the holy servants of God in our land have abided. That is why we are also called Old Ritualists.

Our ancestors endured countless torments for this holy old faith, for the sacred traditions and ancient rites. Thousands of them were slain, shedding their holy blood for the true faith, and were found worthy to be numbered among the saints of God…

With tears, I implore and solemnly bequeath to you: firmly and unwaveringly keep our holy and true faith, for it is the true faith. You are blessed to abide in it…

With tears, I implore, plead, and give my fatherly testament: let peace and love be in every family. Let children honor their parents, knowing that whoever wishes to be happy and prosperous must honor their father and mother, as the fifth commandment of God teaches. And parents, do not provoke your children…

Husbands and wives, strictly and unbreakably keep marital fidelity. Let no one live without a church wedding… Strive to ensure that your children harbor no malice, falsehood, slander, foul language, drunkenness, theft, envy, or vengeance, nor any other such sins.

Let not the sun set on your anger. Always forgive one another. Especially at night, you must always reconcile.

Do not forget the feast days and Sundays, when you must certainly attend the communal church service—Vespers and the Divine Liturgy. In the House of God, stand with fear and reverence, without idle talk, as if you were in heaven. Do not leave the holy church before the end of the service.

Do not be stingy in your offerings to the holy church and the poor. At home, pray every day—morning, evening, and at midday, as well as before and after meals, as indicated in the holy books.

Pray without haste, with reverence. And even more so, strive to make the sign of the cross and bows with deep devotion, without rushing. Make the sign of the cross with two fingers, as established by the Church of Christ.

Semyon Kuznetsov

In 1894, in the Nizhny Novgorod village of Chernukha, Semyon Illarionovich Kuznetsov was born—an Old Believer ustavshchik (liturgical reader and cantor) who lived an astonishingly complex and eventful life.

Originally, the inhabitants of Chernukha were adherents of the Nikonian church but still made the sign of the cross with two fingers. Illarion, Semyon’s father, was a child when the village heard about the priesthood of the Belokrinitskaya hierarchy and embraced it.

The local synodal clergy tried to eradicate the old faith in Chernukha, threatening Siberian exile. But the believers were not afraid.

Semyon Illarionovich was born into the Old Believer faith. In just one winter, he mastered church literacy and Znamenny chant.

In his youth, Kuznetsov had an extraordinary bass voice. Bishop Innokenty of Nizhny Novgorod, under whom Semyon served as a cell attendant for a time, recognized this.

Once, Semyon was traveling with the bishop on a steamboat along the Volga. The hierarch said to Kuznetsov: “Semyon, glorify the Lord, sing to Him. Do not be shy. God will bless you.”

The cantor began singing “Lord, I Have Cried Unto Thee.” Suddenly, a shout came from the ship’s captain: — “Who just sang ‘Lord, I Have Cried’? Immediately move to the other side and sing it again, or we will capsize!

People rushed to see the owner of the wondrous bass, and the steamboat tilted significantly.

With the bishop’s blessing, Kuznetsov went to Moscow, enrolled in the Old Believer Theological Institute, and completed his studies. But then, World War I began. In 1914, Semyon volunteered for the army.

For his bravery, Kuznetsov was awarded several St. George’s Crosses and was promoted to officer rank. In 1917, the Old Believer served in the guard of Emperor Nicholas II. When revolutionary unrest began in Petrograd, the guards, kneeling, pleaded with the Tsar:

“Command us, Sovereign! We shall put all of Petrograd on its knees!”

The Autocrat listened to his loyal warriors—there were nearly a thousand of them—but merely waved his hand. It seemed he did not believe them.

The revolution took place. Semyon returned to his homeland. On the way, he saw that in every village the people were drunken. He asked the men:

“What has happened?”

They replied:

“Soldier, do you not know? The revolution!”

It turned out that the revolutionaries had looted and destroyed the vodka distillery in Arzamas. Now, the whole region was celebrating the beginning of a new life.

After living in Chernukha for some time, Kuznetsov traveled to Nizhny Novgorod to see Bishop Innokenty. In the autumn of 1918, the Bolsheviks decided to seize and execute the archbishop. They surrounded his house, allowing only laypeople to leave. Clergymen were detained.

The Old Believers who were in the house resolved to save Innokenty. They dressed him in civilian clothes and successfully led him out of the building. Meanwhile, Semyon stayed behind in his place. He donned the archbishop’s mantle and sat in the bishop’s room.

The communists seized him, thinking they had captured Innokenty, and took him to prison. In the cell, an old man turned to Kuznetsov:

“You seem to be in a bishop’s robe, but you don’t quite look like a bishop. How did you end up here?”

Semyon told him that he had been taken instead of the bishop.

“Listen,” the old man whispered, “they’re going to shoot us all here. But you—pretend to be drunk and lie down. When they try to wake you, just say you remember nothing.”

Kuznetsov did exactly that. He removed the bishop’s mantle and lay down on the bench. In the morning, the Bolsheviks began leading the prisoners out to be executed. They tried to rouse Semyon, but he would not get up. The commander arrived and asked:

“What’s with this man? Is he drunk?”

“I don’t know,” the Old Believer replied. “I am soldier Semyon Kuznetsov, returning from war. Yesterday, I had a little too much in the tavern. I don’t remember anything else.”

They laughed at him and let him go. Many times afterward, death threatened Kuznetsov, but he miraculously escaped it.

For instance, in 1929, on Great Thursday, the communists, seeking to disrupt the celebration of Pascha, seized all the priests, deacons, and precentors in Arzamas and the surrounding area. They were herded into the city prison and then forced to march to Nizhny Novgorod under the aim of soldiers’ rifles.

Upon reaching the Serezha River, the believers were given a choice:

“Whoever wants to cross the bridge must remove his crosses. Whoever refuses—God help you, cross the river yourselves!”

The ice on the river had begun to thaw. In some places, water was already visible. The believers did not know what to do. Many fell to their knees and begged the soldiers for mercy. Kuznetsov could not bear it any longer—he made the sign of the cross, began singing “Volnoyu morskoyu” (“By the Sea’s Wave”), and stepped onto the ice.

The people took up the hymn, followed Semyon, and safely crossed to the other side.

The soldiers rushed onto the ice to pursue them, but the ice gave way, and they all plunged into the freezing water.

The believers did not wait to see whether the soldiers would manage to climb out—they scattered in all directions. The Old Believers from Chernukha continued on to Nizhny Novgorod. From there, Kuznetsov set off for Tomsk and then to Minusinsk.

Fearing Bolshevik persecution, Semyon fled from Siberia with his family to Tuva. Later, he returned to Minusinsk, where he was eventually caught by the Soviet authorities. In 1946, Kuznetsov was arrested for living under false documents.

Sentenced to 25 years, the Old Believer found himself in a labor camp. He refused to shave his beard, openly prayed and fasted, and did not work on feast days. The camp commander learned of this and, during Holy Week, summoned Kuznetsov, ordering him to sing Paschal hymns.

“When Pascha comes, invite me, and I shall sing,” the Old Believer boldly replied. “But this place is unfit for singing. There are no icons. To whom shall I sing? To please your ears?”

“How dare you speak like this!” the commander fumed. “What kind of man are you, Kuznetsov? So many years of Soviet power, and yet you still cling to your faith!”

“I am Simeon, not a chameleon. Winter and summer, I am the same color. That is why I am here.”

“Enough, go.”

When the holy feast arrived, the Old Believer was brought before the commander. In his office, there were icons and candles. The entire camp leadership had gathered, laughing:

“Well, Kuznetsov, you promised to sing for Pascha. Sing!”

Astonished, Semyon began the festive service. At the end, he turned to those assembled and proclaimed:

“Christ Resurrected!”

And in unison, he heard the reply:

“Truly He is risen!”

The camp commander sighed:

“Ah, Russia, you cannot be imprisoned here!”

And three months later, Kuznetsov was granted early release. He returned to Minusinsk. In that city, through the efforts of Semyon Illarionovich, his children, and his grandchildren, a church was built in honor of the Protection of the Most Holy Theotokos.

Kuznetsov died in 1981. Two months before his repose, he was praying in church. Suddenly, the icon of Simeon the God-Receiver fell. The precentor picked it up, kissed it, and smiled:

“They have come for me.”

Soon after, the venerable elder fell ill. People came to bid him farewell. As he lay dying, he asked whom he should greet in the next life.

Ilya Blizhnikov

In 1888, in the village of Krasny Yar near Elisavetgrad, a son, Ilya, was born to the peasant Old Believers Ignaty and Paraskovia Blizhnikov.

Like his parents, Ilya worked the land. He also learned masonry and could build any kind of stove. At the same time, he faithfully attended the Old Believer churches—there were two in the village. Serving at these churches were his elder brothers, Andrey and Illarion, both priests.

Upon reaching adulthood, Ilya married a maiden, Anisia Dievna, the only daughter of fellow Old Believers in the village. Three children were born to them: Maria, Ivan, and Feodor, who perished in the war.

In the early 1920s, Ilya was ordained first as a deacon and later as a priest by Bishop Raphael (Voropaev) for the village church where Andrey Blizhnikov served.

However, Father Ilya did not serve in Krasny Yar for long—only until the late 1920s. Persecution of the faith began. The Bolsheviks shut down the churches in the village. Andrey was imprisoned and perished in jail. Illarion disappeared without a trace—he was likely executed.

Ilya had his home and livestock confiscated. He was beaten severely several times as they demanded that he renounce God. Once, he was beaten so badly that he was bedridden for a long time and struggled to recover.

Finally, the communists threatened:

“We’ll hang you if you do not renounce the Church!”

Blizhnikov then wrote a letter to Archbishop Meletius, requesting to be transferred somewhere in Russia, to a remote parish. The letter reached Bishop Gerontius, who invited the priest to the Pskov village of Sysoyevo.

Ilya and his wife moved to their new home. Their children remained in Krasny Yar with relatives.

There was no clergy housing at the church in Sysoyevo, so the couple settled on the homestead of the Old Believer family of the Fyodorovs. From that day until the end of his long life, the priest served in Sysoyevo.

The Blizhnikovs lived on the Fyodorov homestead for nearly three years. The local authorities did not interfere with the priest. But in April 1932, grim news arrived from Leningrad—Bishop Gerontius had been captured and imprisoned.

Ilya feared that he would be next. Not wanting to endanger the Fyodorov family, who had many children, the Blizhnikovs left their hospitable home.

In the summer of 1932, the parishioners built a small hut for their pastor. Then, in 1937, the authorities closed the church in Sysoyevo. From then on, Christians were forced to pray in their homes.

Father Ilya had a portable church. Occasionally, he secretly celebrated the Liturgy in his hut or at the home of a parishioner.

In 1941, the Great Patriotic War began. The German army occupied the Pskov region. For reasons unknown, the occupiers deported Ilya and Anisia to Estonia. There, an incident occurred.

As the day of the Latin Pascha approached, the Germans, having learned that there was a priest among the Russians, tried to force him to conduct the festive service.

The occupiers gathered their soldiers and local residents and announced:

“Here is your priest. Now we will make him serve Pascha!”

But Ilya refused.

“I cannot serve as you demand. I am an Orthodox priest.”

The Germans were enraged and sent the priest and his wife to a concentration camp in Germany. There, the Blizhnikovs languished for nearly two years.

Then the Soviet forces arrived and liberated the prisoners. The couple set out for Russia on foot, taking with them two orphaned girls from the camp.

The Blizhnikovs returned to Sysoyevo. The church was still closed. Then, believers from the Pskov village of Korkhovo reached out to Ilya.

In this village, a wooden church dedicated to St. Nicholas the Wonderworker had been built in 1908. In 1937, the communists shut it down. The church warden, Pyotr Grechin, was arrested and sent to prison.

As Grechin was being taken away, he turned to his daughter:

“Here, Natasha, take the keys to our church. Keep them safe, and the Lord will help you.”

He handed his daughter a bundle of keys, kissed her forehead, and left with the soldiers, vanishing forever into the Soviet prisons and labor camps.

Thus, Natalia Petrovna Grechina (1912–1996) became the keeper of the Korkhovo church. She was only 25 years old. But no matter how much she tried to entrust the keys to one of the elder parishioners, all refused:

“Natalya, let the keys stay with you. If anything happens, you have no children, so they will not be left orphaned. Have mercy on us—keep the keys yourself!”

Natalya took pity on them and kept the keys.

Time and again, officials demanded:

“Give us the keys to the church—we are taking it from you!”

Natalya’s answer never changed:

“We will not give you the keys to the church, nor will we allow you to defile the holy place. Do as you will, you are the authorities.”

Thus, Grechina preserved the church. After the war, she managed to have it reopened and invited Blizhnikov to serve in Korkhovo.

In 1947, Archbishop Irinarch entrusted Ilya with serving in the Church of St. Nicholas. The new parishioners took to the priest and begged him to stay in their village. They even found a house for him.

Father Ilya decided to move to Korkhovo, but the people of Sysoyevo persuaded him to remain. Thus, he began to serve both parishes. Then, in secret from the authorities, he built a small prayer house in Sysoyevo, hidden away behind gardens in a lowland.

In the 1950s, Anisia Dievna passed away. Their eldest daughter, Maria, took care of her father. She was his housekeeper, nurse, and reader at the prayer house.

During this time, the priest also began ministering to the Christians in Leningrad, who had been without churches and priests since the 1930s.

Now an old and ailing man, suffering from leg ailments, he not only had to serve in Sysoyevo but also traveled monthly to Korkhovo and, whenever summoned, journeyed to Leningrad for baptisms, confessions, and communions.

Years passed. The venerable priest grew ever weaker and sicker. His legs barely carried him, and his hands could hardly hold an infant at baptism.

In 1973, he wrote to Archbishop Nikodim (Latyshev) of Moscow, requesting a replacement so that he could retire. But the hierarch replied:

“There is no one to replace you, so I cannot send you into retirement.”

At the beginning of 1983, the priest was bedridden—he had been ill for most of the winter. His health steadily declined. But during Bright Week, he revived. Good news had arrived from Leningrad—the authorities had handed over a former church building to the Old Believer community.

The priest was encouraged. But not for long.

The tireless laborer in the Lord’s vineyard, Father Ilya Blizhnikov, reposed on August 6, 1983, in the arms of his daughter. He was buried in the cemetery in Sysoyevo, next to Anisia Dievna.

The Lykov Family

In June 1978, geological researchers were searching for iron ore deposits in the upper reaches of the Abakan River. As they flew over the desolate taiga in a helicopter, they spotted a garden and a small hut on the mountainside.

Waiting for a clear day, the researchers set out to visit the mysterious forest dwellers. They approached the hut, which had darkened with age and rain.

The low door creaked. An old man stepped out to meet the uninvited guests—barefoot, wearing a patched and re-patched shirt and trousers.

Silence reigned. Finally, one of the geologists spoke:

“Hello, grandfather! We have come to visit you.”

The old man hesitantly replied:

“Well, come in, if you have come…”

The guests entered the dark hut. Two women were hiding inside. One of them cried out:

“This is for our sins! For our sins!”

The other slowly sank to the floor, clutching a support beam. Her eyes were frozen in horror.

Thus, in the impassable taiga, the family of Old Believers, the Lykovs, was discovered.

In July 1982, journalist Vasily Mikhailovich Peskov visited them. He wrote a book about the Lykovs, Taiga Dead End, which was read by millions of people. Not only the entire Soviet Union but the whole world learned about the hermit Old Believers.

In the 1930s, several families of Old Believers of the Chasovennye (Chapel) persuasion, including the Lykovs, fled into the taiga to escape persecution by the Soviet authorities and to distance themselves from the sinful world. They carried with them icons, church books, and seeds of various plants.

They also brought reserved Eucharistic Gifts for communion and holy water, which they diluted with fresh water as it was consumed. The reserved Gifts were kept in a small, old wooden cask—a sacred relic, a memory of the pious priests from Irgiz, whom the Lykovs’ ancestors revered.

Gradually, the family retreated deeper and deeper into the wilderness. Leading them was the father, Karp Osipovich. His wife, Akulina Karpovna, followed him without complaint, along with their two children, Savin and Natalia. Two more children, Dmitry and Agafia, were later born in the forest.

The Lykovs settled in the taiga, built a hut, and cultivated a garden. They grew turnips, peas, rye, potatoes, onions, and hemp. The turnips, peas, and rye supplemented their diet, though they were not the main sources of food.

They harvested very little rye. The dried grain was pounded in a mortar and, on major feast days, cooked into porridge.

The hermits primarily subsisted on potatoes, which they stored in a cellar. However, even in the cellar, the potatoes would not last long. The Lykovs adapted by making a supply of dried potatoes.

They sliced the potatoes into thin pieces and dried them on large sheets of birch bark or directly on the roof during hot days. If necessary, they finished drying them by the fire or on the stove. The entire hut was filled with birch-bark containers holding the stored potatoes.

Using dried potatoes pounded in a mortar, the hermits baked bread, adding two or three handfuls of crushed rye and a handful of ground hemp seeds. This simple dough, mixed with water without yeast or leavening, was baked in a pan, resulting in a thick, black flatbread.

The Lykovs supplemented their meager diet with gifts from the forest—birch sap, pine nuts, wild onions, nettles, berries, and mushrooms. During the summer and autumn, before the river froze, they caught fish. They ate it raw, roasted it over a fire, and dried it for future use.

Elk and deer roamed the taiga. The hermits hunted them by digging pit traps along animal trails and waiting for prey to fall in.

The catches were rare. But when they succeeded in obtaining meat, the Lykovs feasted—and made sure to preserve some for later use. They sliced it into narrow strips and air-dried it.

Salt was unavailable. This was the greatest hardship of life in the taiga.

“A true torment!” Karp Osipovich would say.

When the Old Believers met the geologists, they refused to accept food from them—even bread and flour. But they did take salt. From then on, they never ate without it.

The Lykovs used hemp to make fabric. They dried the hemp, soaked it in a stream, crushed and combed it. Using a spindle, they twisted hemp fibers into thread, which they then wove into coarse fabric on a simple loom.

Their clothing was of the simplest kind—sack-like garments with holes for the head, tied at the waist with ropes. On their feet, the hermits wore birch-bark clogs. Sometimes, they made homemade leather boots. But more often, they walked barefoot, even in the snow.

In 1961, when their garden yielded a poor harvest and the taiga provided nothing, Akulina Karpovna died from starvation and exhaustion. Her last words were:

“How will you manage without me?”

Indeed, after their mother’s death, the family struggled greatly. She had shared all the burdens of the hermit’s life with her husband—chopping and clearing the forest, planting and digging potatoes, weaving and sewing clothes, fishing, helping to build their log home and dig the cellar.

As a girl, Akulina Karpovna had learned to read church books. She passed this wisdom on to her children. Instead of notebooks, she used birch bark. Instead of ink—honeysuckle juice. By dipping a sharpened stick into the juice, she could inscribe faint blue letters on the birch bark.

Twenty years after their mother’s death, in 1981, nearly the entire Lykov family perished.

First, in October, the youngest son, Dmitry, died from a severe cold.

In December, the eldest son, Savin, passed away. He was the most intelligent member of the family. Through trial and error, he had taught himself how to tan animal hides and sew boots.

Savin was also well-read and knowledgeable in church books. He was firm in matters of faith and opposed the family’s contact with the geologists, believing it to be a sin.

Savin died from overexertion—he strained himself digging potatoes out from under the snow. His sister Natalia nursed him in his final moments. When her brother was gone, she wept:

“I too will die from grief.”

And she passed away a few days later—on December 30, 1981.

Agafia remained in the hut with Karp Osipovich. The two of them lived together for seven more years. In February 1988, the father died of old age.

Agafia left her home several times—she stayed with relatives and lived for a while in a Chasovennye Old Believer skete. But she did not get along with them in character or faith and returned to her hut.

The hermitess firmly believes in the eternity of the priesthood and says:

“If the priesthood had ceased, had been interrupted, then the world would have long since come to an end. Thunder would have struck, and we would no longer exist in this world. The priesthood will remain until the very last, second coming of Christ.”

Thus, Agafia’s eventual union with the Old Orthodox Church was a natural step.

In November 2011, with the blessing of Metropolitan Korniliy (Titov), a priest visited the hermitess. He heard her confession and gave her communion.

And in April 2014, Agafia Lykova was visited by Metropolitan Korniliy himself.

Metropolitan Alimpiy

In a sorrowful time, when it seemed that God had turned away from Christians, on August 14, 1929, in Nizhny Novgorod, a son, Alexander, was born to the Old Believer family of Kapiton Ivanovich and Alexandra Ivanovna Gusev. He would become the future Metropolitan Alimpiy.

His parents were originally from Lyskovo. His father worked as a blacksmith. When they married, a shipbuilding plant in Nizhny Novgorod was being reconstructed, and Kapiton was hired there. It was in the city that Alexander was born.

The family had six children but no permanent housing. After three years, Kapiton and Alexandra had to return to Lyskovo. Alexander Gusev’s childhood and youth passed on the wide expanses of the Volga—wharves, backwaters, the river, and beyond it, fields stretching into the hazy distance, where the wind wandered all summer long, casting shifting shadows of clouds.

During the Great Patriotic War, Kapiton Ivanovich worked at a factory in the city of Dzerzhinsk. At that time, the Old Believer priest Kirill Bushuyev, who was secretly living near the Gusevs, revealed himself to Alexandra Ivanovna and suggested setting up a house church in her home:

“Churches are being allowed again. Permit me to hold services in your house!”

The Gusevs lived in a large two-story home, so Alexandra Ivanovna did not object. The whole family took on the task—removing the stove, arranging an altar and a choir loft. The priest consecrated the house church in honor of St. John the Theologian and began celebrating the services.

In the summer of 1945, the authorities returned a church in Gorky to the Old Believers, which had been closed since 1938. Soon afterward, Bushuyev passed away. Then the authorities told the Gusevs:

“What will you do without a priest? That’s enough—there’s a church in Gorky now. Go there to pray!”

The house church was closed. Now, the Old Believers from Lyskovo had to make a difficult 100-kilometer journey to attend divine services. Among the pilgrims traveling to Gorky for major feasts was the future metropolitan.

In the post-war years, Alexander Gusev first worked as a courier, then as a beacon-keeper on the Volga, and later in the fire department, from where he was drafted into the army. He served for four years in a construction unit.

In 1953, Gusev returned to Lyskovo and resumed his work in the fire department.

His colleagues sympathized with the devout young man:

“Alexander, why have you come here? What are you doing in this place? This is not for you—you should be serving in a church somewhere.”

With the blessing of his spiritual father, Alexander moved in 1959 to the Kostroma village of Durasovo to assist the 85-year-old priest Alexei Sergeev. But he did not stay there long. In 1961, at the demand of the authorities, Gusev had to leave the village. He moved to Gorky, where he took on the duties of a precentor at the church.

In the summer of 1965, the authorities in Gorky closed and demolished the Old Believer church standing on the Volga’s shore. Instead, they gave the believers an abandoned cemetery church.

For the consecration of this church—dedicated to the Dormition of the Most Holy Theotokos—Archbishop Joseph (Morzhakov) of Moscow arrived. He ordained Alexander, who had taken a vow of celibacy, to the rank of deacon.

At the 1969 church council, Deacon Alexander Gusev was deemed worthy of the episcopal rank, but he did not become a bishop until 1986.

By that time, only three elderly hierarchs remained in the Church: Archbishop Nikodim (Latyshev) and Bishops Anastasy (Kononov) and Evtikhy (Kuzmin). Archbishop Nikodim was gravely ill and lived permanently in Moldova, in his native village of Staraia Dobrudzha.

Anastasy persuaded Deacon Alexander to accept the episcopal rank. With the blessing of Nikodim, Anastasy ordained Alexander as a priest in 1985, then tonsured him into monasticism and gave him the name Alimpiy.

Then, on January 5, 1986, Bishops Anastasy and Evtikhy consecrated Alimpiy as a bishop. Unexpectedly, events unfolded rapidly. Archbishop Nikodim passed away on February 11, 1986, and Bishop Anastasy followed on April 9 of the same year.

A council was convened, which elected Bishop Alimpiy as the head of the Russian Church. Thus began the long and arduous revival of the Old Faith.

In 1988, during the celebration of the 1000th anniversary of the Baptism of Rus, Russian Old Believers fulfilled a long-cherished dream—they elevated the Archbishop of Moscow to the dignity of Metropolitan. The decision was made at the 1988 Council, despite attempts by the authorities to obstruct it.

At the same Council, the Church adopted a new name—the Russian Orthodox Old Believer Church. And on July 24, 1988, at the Intercession Cathedral in the Rogozhskoye Cemetery, the solemn elevation of Archbishop Alimpiy to the rank of Metropolitan of Moscow and All Russia took place.

Under his leadership, the ranks of the clergy grew, and the number of parishes increased several times over. Many previously closed churches were returned to believers in cities and villages. For example, Muscovites regained the semi-ruined Nativity Cathedral at Rogozhskoye Cemetery. Many churches were also rebuilt from the ground up.

In November 1996, during the 150th anniversary of Saint Ambrose’s joining the Old Believers, a Worldwide Council of the Ancient Orthodox Church was held in the village of Belaya Krinitsa. It was presided over by Metropolitan Alimpiy of Moscow and Metropolitan Leonty (Izot) of Belaya Krinitsa. At this council, Ambrose was officially glorified as a saint.

In 2002, a modern Orthodox bishop, Antony (Hertzog) of Germany, expressed his desire to join the Russian Church. He traveled to Moscow with the priest Mikhail Buk. There, it was discovered that the Germans had not received baptism by triple immersion.

Therefore, they were baptized properly and then reordained. Hertzog became Bishop Ambrose, and Buk was ordained as Priest Mercury. Unfortunately, their stay in the Old Believer Church was brief—by 2007, they had left.

Metropolitan Alimpiy led a strict monastic life. Despite physical infirmity, he strictly observed the monastic rule of prayer. From his frequent making of the sign of the cross, his everyday cassock was worn through at the shoulders.

Presiding over councils, consecrating churches, undertaking long journeys, and constantly caring for the Church took a toll on the Metropolitan’s health. It deteriorated sharply at the end of 2003. The hierarch was sent to a hospital, where he passed away early in the morning of December 31. His funeral took place on January 4, 2004, at Rogozhskoye Cemetery.

Our Days

In December 1991, the Soviet Union ceased to exist, breaking apart into fifteen independent states. Today, more than a million believers belong to the Russian Orthodox Old Believer Church across these nations. The Church remains one of the largest religious communities in modern Russia.

The Church is headed by the Metropolitan of Moscow and All Russia. His residence is in the capital, at the churches of the Rogozhskoye Cemetery. Each year, church councils are held there, attended not only by bishops and priests but also by laypeople, without whose participation no decisions are made.

After the repose of Metropolitan Alimpiy, the council elected Bishop Andrian of Kazan as the new metropolitan.

Metropolitan Andrian

Vladyka Andrian—Alexander Gennadievich Chetvergov—was born on February 14, 1951, into an Old Believer family in Kazan. From infancy, he was raised in the faith, enduring mockery from his peers for it more than once.

Chetvergov graduated from the Kazan Aviation Institute and worked as an engineer. In 1980, he married, leading what was, in many ways, an ordinary life.

In 1988, the authorities returned a former church building to the Old Believers, which required restoration. Alexander’s brother, Gennady Chetvergov, was ordained as a priest to serve the newly restored church.

At that time, the engineer left his secular profession to work for the Church. Within the parish, he took on many roles—precentor, driver, welder, carpenter, and roofer.

However, in 1998, his life took a dramatic turn. He was widowed, left to care for a son and two daughters. Chetvergov chose not to remarry, instead dedicating his life to the service of God.

In October 1999, Alexander was ordained a deacon; a year later, he was made a priest. The following year, he took monastic vows with the name Andrian.

In April 2001, Father Andrian was consecrated bishop for Kazan and Vyatka. Then, in February 2004, the church council elected him Metropolitan of Moscow and All Russia.

The new archpastor traveled throughout Russia, visiting many parishes, and also journeyed to Moldova and Ukraine. Metropolitan Andrian was able to establish dialogue with both government representatives and journalists.

This distinguished him from his predecessor. Alimpiy had avoided contact with the outside world and was distrustful of journalists. Andrian, by contrast, willingly met with reporters and government officials, including the Russian president, Vladimir Putin, and Moscow mayor Yuri Luzhkov.

During Andrian’s tenure, Old Believers entered the internet era. Numerous Old Believer websites appeared, including the official site of the Church, rpsc.ru.

In May 2005, the centennial of the granting of religious freedom to Old Believers and the reopening of the altars of the Rogozhskoye Cemetery churches was celebrated with extraordinary solemnity and grandeur. This event became one of the most significant in church life.

Under Andrian’s leadership, the return of churches confiscated by the communists continued. However, in some cases, local authorities transferred these buildings not to their rightful owners, but to the New Rite Orthodox.

Such was the case in Samara. In May 2004, the former Old Believer church dedicated to the Kazan Icon of the Mother of God, which had been closed in 1929, was handed over to the Nikonian Orthodox.

With the metropolitan’s blessing and the support of journalists, Old Believers in Samara began a struggle to reclaim the church. The local authorities obstructed its return to the rightful congregation in every possible way. Only in 2006 was the Kazan church finally restored to the Old Believers.

Unfortunately, Andrian did not live to see this day.

On Wednesday, August 10, 2005, during the Great Vyatka Cross Procession in the Kirov region, the archbishop suddenly passed away from a heart attack.

Metropolitan Korniliy

In October of that same year, the church council elected a new metropolitan—Bishop Korniliy.

Vladyka Korniliy—Konstantin Ivanovich Titov—was born on August 1, 1947, in the Moscow-region city of Orekhovo-Zuevo to an Old Believer family. After finishing school, he worked in a factory for 35 years, while also studying at night school, a technical college, and an institute.

In 1991, Konstantin Ivanovich became chairman of the Orekhovo-Zuevo Old Believer community. In 1997, he took a vow of celibacy and was ordained a deacon. In 2004, he was ordained a priest. The following year, he was tonsured a monk with the name Korniliy.

On May 8, 2005, Metropolitan Andrian, together with three bishops, consecrated Hieromonk Korniliy as Bishop of Kazan.

Under Metropolitan Korniliy, the great work of Old Believer revival, begun under Alimpiy and Andrian, continues. New communities are being established, new churches are being built, and the preaching of the Old Faith resounds freely throughout Russia.

One of the most important events in contemporary church history was the canonization of Bishop Arseny of the Urals. This took place at the 2008 Council. Then, on September 23, 2011, in the city of Uralsk, his holy relics were solemnly uncovered.

The bishop had been buried in a crypt beneath an Old Believer church that had been shut down by the Bolsheviks. Over time, the crypt became flooded with meltwater. When Christians dismantled the brick vault of the crypt, they saw that the bishop’s coffin was falling apart from decay.

As they lifted the coffin from the grave, the bottom fell away, and it began to collapse. It had to be lowered again. But when the saint’s relics were removed from the coffin, they remained intact.

The bishop’s vestments had disintegrated. His body was covered with what seemed to be a layer of silt. It had not been entirely preserved from decay, but to a significant degree. His head and neck, for example, were completely untouched by corruption—his skin, ears, cheeks, and lips remained intact. His eyes had not sunken in but were closed under their lids.

The relics were carried into the church and placed in a wooden reliquary. Then, on September 25, the Uralsk church was re-consecrated, as it had been in Bishop Arseny’s time, in honor of the Protection of the Most Holy Theotokos.

In November 2011, the church council canonized St. Serapion of Cheremshansk. In the city of Balakovo, construction began on a church dedicated to St. Serapion.

Under Metropolitan Korniliy, great attention has been given to Christian education. The writings of outstanding nachetchiks—Bishops Arseny, Innokenty, and Mikhail—are being published. A theological school operates at Rogozhskoye Cemetery, where a church-historical museum has also been established.

Like Vladyka Andrian, Metropolitan Korniliy meets with high-ranking government officials. On February 22, 2013, President Vladimir Putin awarded him the prestigious Order of Friendship.

The Preaching of the Old Faith

(From a report by Metropolitan Andrian)

The Old Believer Church strictly preserves the purity of Orthodoxy, strives to carefully fulfill the requirements of the canons, upholds tradition, and brings people the true Orthodox faith and salvation. But today, a question arises: is it enough simply to pray to God, who can Himself grant us all that is necessary for salvation according to our faith?..

Above all, it is essential to fully restore apostolic ministry—both oral and written preaching of the Word of God, and spiritual care for people—both for the faithful and for those who are still outside the true Church.

If, at the beginning of the last century, when the majority of the Russian people were still religious, the efforts of our pastors and nachetchiks were primarily focused on defending Old Belief from the attacks of missionaries and proving the truth and sanctity of the old faith, its ancient books, rites, and traditions against all slander, today Russian society has changed significantly. The majority of people remain poorly informed about the Christian faith, though many still call themselves believers.

Thus, for the Church of Christ, these times are in some ways comparable to the apostolic era: “The harvest truly is plenteous, but the laborers are few.” The time has come for the laborers to hasten to the harvest prepared by God.

To engage in missionary work today, there is no need to embark on distant journeys, venturing into remote lands where people have never heard the Gospel. Such people already surround us in abundance.

Therefore, in every parish, it is necessary to consistently, in the spirit of Christian goodwill and patience, conduct conversations with those who enter the church, even if they come by chance, to tell them about Christ, the Old Orthodox faith, and the historical path of the Old Believers.

But even outside the church, in everyday life, we must not hide the fact that we are Old Believers.

There are no dark or shameful spots in the history of Russian Old Belief. Our neighbors, who live with us in the same house, our colleagues at work, and our classmates in school—each and every one of them should hear from us about our faith.

Metropolitan Leontiy

The First World War ended in 1918, bringing changes to the state borders of Europe. Not only Russia but also Austria lost its ancestral lands: Bukovina became part of the Kingdom of Romania.

In September 1935, military exercises of the Romanian army took place in Bukovina. They were overseen by King Carol II himself. Together with his entourage, generals, and officers, he visited the Old Believer Metropolitan Paphnutius (Fedoseev) in the village of Belaya Krinitsa.

When the king arrived at the men’s monastery, he was greeted with bread and salt by the metropolitan, surrounded by clergy, monks, and nuns. The honored guest even attended a church service in the monastery cathedral, celebrated by Paphnutius. Later, Carol II visited the bishop’s chambers and, over a modest meal, spoke with him about the state of the Old Believer Lipovans in Romania.

In June 1940, Romania was forced to cede Bukovina to the Soviet Union. The Red Army entered Belaya Krinitsa. The metropolitan left the village, and since then, the throne of the Belaya Krinitsa archbishops has been in the city of Brăila.

That same September, Carol II was overthrown. His young son, Michael I, was declared King of Romania. However, the true ruler of the country became Marshal Ion Antonescu. In 1942, his government began persecuting the Old Believer Church.

The authorities demanded that the Church switch to the Gregorian calendar and begin conducting services according to it, just as the state-backed Romanian Church had done earlier.

Of course, the Lipovans could not accept this. If they had, they would have lost the right to call themselves Old Believers—guardians of ancient Church traditions and the faith of their fathers. The Belaya Krinitsa Metropolitan Tikhon resolutely refused to celebrate services according to the new calendar.

Then Antonescu launched a persecution against the Old Believers. Several churches were closed, and several respected priests and laypeople were sent to concentration camps. The authorities warned that if the Old Believers did not adopt the Gregorian calendar, all their churches would be shut down and all clergy would be imprisoned.

Following a denunciation by Romanian Archbishop Ephrem, Metropolitan Tikhon was also sent to a concentration camp. He remained there for 46 days—until the Soviet Army entered Romania.

Soon, divine justice overtook Antonescu—he was deposed in 1944 and executed two years later.

Thanks to their courage and steadfastness, the Lipovans managed to preserve the Old Russian faith and the sacred traditions of their ancestors. Today, approximately 200,000 Old Believers live in Romania, recognizing the authority of the Belaya Krinitsa Metropolitan. His jurisdiction also includes parishes in Bulgaria, Spain, Italy, Latvia, America, and Australia.

In our time, the Metropolitan of Belaya Krinitsa is Vladyka Leontiy, known in the world as Lavrentiy Terentyevich Izot (Izotov).

The future archbishop was born on August 26, 1966, into a pious Lipovan family in the village of Russkaya Slava. Near the village stands the Dormition Monastery, where the boy often spent time helping the monks and attending the lengthy monastic services.

As a child, Lavrentiy declared to his parents, Terenty and Ekaterina, that he would one day enter the monastery. At the time, no one took his words seriously.

However, the young Christian was firm in his resolve. After finishing school, he served in the army and returned home in 1988. His parents began to speak of arranging his marriage, but Lavrentiy firmly announced his decision to leave for the Dormition Monastery.

In March of that year, the young man moved into the monastery. He lived a strict monastic life, fulfilling various obediences. A year later, Bishop Leonid (Samuilov) ordained Lavrentiy to the diaconate.

In 1990, the young deacon took monastic vows and was given the name Leontiy. A gifted expert in church rubrics and Znamenny chant, he earned the deep respect of the faithful. Every summer, he taught the rubrics and chant to all who wished to learn. Even Bezpopovtsy (priestless Old Believers) traveled to the Dormition Monastery to study under him.

In June 1994, Bishop Nikodim of Brăila and Tulcea reposed. Two years later, the church council elected Father Leontiy to succeed him. And in May 1996, he was consecrated bishop.

That same year, on August 21, the Belaya Krinitsa Metropolitan Timon (Gavrilov) passed away. Once again, a church council was convened, this time to elect a new metropolitan. Preference was given to Leontiy, although many were concerned about his youth.

The solemn elevation of Bishop Leontiy to the rank of metropolitan took place in Brăila on October 27, 1996. The consecration was performed by Metropolitan Alimpiy, assisted by three other bishops.

Following the 1996 World Old Believer Council’s canonization of Ambrose of Belaya Krinitsa, the question arose regarding the discovery and transfer of his relics.

For many years, Old Believers had visited Ambrose’s grave in Trieste. Many times, discussions were held about relocating his remains to another place, such as Belaya Krinitsa. However, for various reasons, this had never been possible.

Then, on May 30, 2000, Metropolitan Leontiy arrived in Trieste, accompanied by a large delegation of clergy from Romania, America, and Australia. The following morning, the Old Believers proceeded to the Greek cemetery, where Saint Ambrose was buried near the church. Italian officials and a gravedigger were already waiting for them.

The Italian began digging but worked slowly. Impatient, the Russians took the pickaxe and shovel from him and set to work themselves. They dug through the hard soil for a long time until, at last, they reached the vault of the crypt. Breaking through, they saw the saint’s burial place.

The coffin had decayed, leaving only its brass handles intact. On the floor of the crypt lay the remains of Ambrose, still clothed in his bishop’s mantle. In his hands was a small hand-painted icon in a metal cover, remarkably well-preserved. The relics had survived in the form of bones, yet the left hand remained incorrupt, with its flesh, skin, and nails intact.

The sacred remains were carefully gathered into a special reliquary and flown to Bucharest on June 3. That same day, they were transported to Brăila and placed in the metropolitan cathedral.

In the years that followed, Leontiy visited Italy many times. Several thousand Lipovans had emigrated there from Romania for work. In 2012, in the city of Turin, the metropolitan consecrated a new church for them, dedicated to Saint Nicholas the Wonderworker.

Leontiy tirelessly visits Old Believer parishes across Europe, America, and Australia. He has traveled to Russia many times and has met with Metropolitans Alimpiy, Andrian, and Korniliy.

Old Believers in Crimea

The Crimean Peninsula is an extraordinary crossroads, where different peoples have met throughout history. This land has seen them all!

Scythians, Greeks, Goths, Huns, Alans, Khazars, Karaites, Jews, Pechenegs, Polovtsians, Mongols, Tatars—all have left their mark on the region. Crimea is also inseparably linked with the history of Ancient Rus. It was here, in the city of Korsun (Chersonesus), that Prince Vladimir, the holy baptizer of our people, received Christianity.

The Greeks left the most significant imprint on the history of Crimea. Even in ancient times, they founded several cities here, whose inhabitants were engaged in maritime trade, dealing in grain, livestock, honey, wax, salted fish, hides, and amber. It was to these people that the Apostle Andrew preached Christianity.

The true faith spread across the entire peninsula. In earlier times, Crimea had its own Orthodox metropolitan, overseeing numerous monasteries and churches. However, due to frequent and brutal wars, most of Crimea’s Christian shrines have not survived to this day. Today, only their ruins remain.

The greatest devastation came at the hands of the nomadic Tatars. They first appeared in Crimea in 1223. Then, in 1299, their hordes swept through the flourishing valleys of the peninsula with fire and sword. Many Greek cities and villages were burned and destroyed.

Taking advantage of the Greeks’ weakened state, the Italians arrived in Crimea—representatives of two wealthy trading republics, Venice and Genoa. These two cities competed with each other in expanding trade and seizing new lands. Soon, with Tatar support, the Genoese drove the Venetians out of the peninsula.

The Latin-rite Genoese controlled several well-fortified cities along the rocky coastline. The Orthodox Greeks retained a small principality, Theodoro, in the southwestern part of the peninsula. Meanwhile, the Muslim Tatars ruled the steppe interior, where they established their own state, constantly waging war and conducting raids against their neighbors.

The primary occupation of the Tatars was warfare. They conducted brutal raids on neighboring countries, returning to the peninsula laden with rich spoils and numerous captives—strong men and beautiful women. These unfortunate people, having fallen into the hands of the infidels, were turned into slaves and sold to distant lands. Poland and Rus’ suffered particularly from Tatar incursions.

The Genoese and the Turks actively encouraged this inhumane slave trade, which persisted until the mid-eighteenth century. They eagerly purchased fair-haired and blue-eyed Slavic slaves from the Tatars, as such “living merchandise” was highly valued in antiquity.

Captives were transported from Crimea by ship to Genoa and Istanbul. From there, they were sold not only to Muslim states in Asia and Africa but also to Christian Europe—Italy and France. It is estimated that over several centuries, approximately three million people were seized by the Tatars and sold into slavery.

In 1475, the Turks seized the peninsula, expelling the Genoese and destroying the Principality of Theodoro. The Crimean Tatars fell into dependence on the Turks, and the Crimean Khan became a tributary of the Ottoman Sultan.

The local Christian population endured various forms of humiliation. They were subjected to a double poll tax. Additionally, priests were required to host Turkish officials at their own expense. For instance, if a tax collector traveled through cities and villages, he would invariably stay at the home of a priest. The priest was obliged not only to feed the Turk but also to pay a special “tooth tax”—a fee for the inconvenience of the official having to chew coarse Christian food with his delicate Muslim teeth.

The end of Tatar raids, the slave trade, and the persecution of Christians was brought about by Empress Catherine II. In April 1783, she annexed Crimea to Russia. This occurred after several wars with Turkey, which weakened the infidels and provided Russia access to the Black Sea.

In May 1787, Catherine visited the peninsula, accompanied by a grand retinue and envoys from Austria, England, and France. The Empress made a ceremonial entry into Bakhchisarai, the former Tatar capital, and stayed for three days in the Khan’s palace. With this, she demonstrated to the world that Crimea now belonged to Russia.

However, in 1954, the Soviet government took Crimea from Russia and transferred it to Ukraine. Of course, the opinion of the local residents was not considered in this decision. Yet, in March 2014, the Crimean people expressed their will through a general referendum, voting for the return of the peninsula to Russia.

In the eighteenth century, the first Old Believers appeared in the lands under the control of the Crimean Khan—the Nekrasov Cossacks.

At that time, in the Cave Dormition Monastery near Bakhchisarai, the Greek Metropolitan Gedeon resided. Around 1750, he ordained Bishop Theodosius for the Cossacks. Gedeon did this not of his own will but under pressure from the Ottoman Sultan and the Crimean Khan.

In the mid-nineteenth century, Old Believers of the priestly tradition from the Volga region settled in Crimea. On the shores of the Sea of Azov, near the city of Kerch, they established a small settlement called Mama Russkaya.

The Old Believers engaged in fishing, primarily catching sturgeon. They lived very modestly but maintained cleanliness—one of their first constructions in the new settlement was a bathhouse. Their houses were small, built from stones bound with clay. The roofs were made of reeds, which grew abundantly in the area.

Due to the scarcity of fresh water, the Old Believers did not cultivate gardens. Instead, they traded fish for vegetables in neighboring villages.

In May 1913, with the financial support of a local wealthy man named Dirin, a stone church dedicated to the Nativity of the Theotokos was built in Mama Russkaya. The Soviet authorities later closed the church. However, a pious woman managed to save and preserve part of its sacred furnishings.

After the war, the authorities returned the dilapidated church to the Christians. The rescued church utensils were restored to it. Unfortunately, on one occasion, thieves broke into the church, forced open the doors, and stole all the ancient icons. Even now, the community of Mama Russkaya strives to restore the former splendor of their church.

In 2015, a second Old Believer community emerged in Crimea, in Simferopol. The “Russian Black Sea Company ‘Crimean Seafood’” purchased a former church building for the community.

Metropolitan Korniliy visited Simferopol on July 9, 2015. He conducted a solemn prayer service in the new church. It is planned that after its restoration and renovation, the church will be consecrated in honor of the Entry of the Most Holy God-bearer into the Temple.

Old Believers in Africa

From the Gospel, we know that the angel of the Lord appeared in a dream to Joseph, the husband of the Virgin Mary, commanding him to take the newborn Christ and His Mother and flee to Egypt. The Savior was miraculously preserved from the brutal massacre of infants ordered by King Herod. Thus, the Word of God was revealed to the inhabitants of Africa.

According to tradition, the Apostle and Evangelist Mark preached the true faith in Egypt. In its principal city, Alexandria, the apostle established the first Christian community. Mark’s eloquent preaching and the numerous miracles he performed drew many people to God.

From Asia, through merchants traveling from the Arabian Peninsula, Christianity spread to Ethiopia. However, though it bore many good fruits, the tree of the true faith eventually withered on African soil. By the seventh century, the Egyptians and Ethiopians had fully separated from the Orthodox Church, falling into heresy.

Egypt lies in the lower and middle reaches of the great Nile River. In the upper reaches of the Nile was the vast region of Nubia, where three ancient kingdoms once existed—Nobatia, Makuria, and Alodia. In the sixth century, the first Gospel preachers arrived there. Later, a special script was created for the Nubian language, and Christian books were translated into it.

From the seventh century onward, the Arabs began their conquest of North Africa. They first seized Egypt and established a powerful state there. Gradually, this state subjugated the Nubian kingdoms as well. The Arabs forcibly converted Christians to Islam, destroyed churches, and burned sacred books. In Egypt, believers in Jesus were reduced to an oppressed and disenfranchised minority. In Nubia, Christianity disappeared entirely by the early sixteenth century. Only in Ethiopia did it remain the state religion.

South of Nubia, at the sources of the Nile and along the shores of Lake Victoria, several pagan kingdoms had long existed. The strongest among them, the Kingdom of Buganda, attracted the attention of European powers—England and Germany. In the nineteenth century, the first European travelers and Christian missionaries arrived in this region.

By the end of that same century, England had conquered Buganda and the surrounding territories. The preaching of the Gospel began to spread freely and widely. Churches and schools were built everywhere. In 1962, a new state, Uganda, emerged in these lands, gaining independence from England.

However, not all Ugandans were satisfied with the version of Christianity taught to them by the English. Many found it distorted. Some, in their spiritual search, turned to the Greek New Ritualists. Thus, in the first half of the twentieth century, communities appeared in Uganda that were under the jurisdiction of the Greek Patriarch of Alexandria.

One of the New Ritualist priests, Joachim Kiyimba (1948–2015), studied in his youth at a theological seminary in Leningrad. There, he learned about the existence of the enigmatic Old Believers. This knowledge later helped him in his search for the true Church.

As he grew older, the priest came to understand that the Greeks had distorted the Orthodox faith, failing to preserve it in its purity and integrity as the apostles and holy fathers had commanded. Joachim and several hundred of his parishioners broke communion with the Patriarch of Alexandria. This came at a high price—their community was left without a church.

Nevertheless, the faithful built a new stone church in Kampala, the capital of Uganda. A school, an orphanage, and a medical clinic were established alongside the church. Kiyimba, who was also a physician, followed the example of the ancient unmercenary saints, treating the poor free of charge.

At the same time, Joachim was searching for a Church that preserved ancient Christianity in its original form along with its unaltered ancient rites. Eventually, he wished to join the Old Orthodox Church. In mid-2012, he began correspondence with Metropolitan Korniliy.

In February 2013, representatives of the Russian Church—priests Leonty Pimenov, Alexey Lopatin, and Nikolai Bobkov—visited Uganda. They met with Kiyimba and his parishioners and were convinced of their firm intention to become Old Believers.

In May of the same year, Father Joachim traveled to Moscow with his wife, Margarita. The Church authorities considered his request to join the Old Believers. It caused both surprise and confusion. Never before had the Old Believers encountered such unusual people. However, after long deliberation, a positive decision was reached.

Joachim Kiyimba was received into the Church through chrismation on May 22, 2013. The sacrament was performed in St. Nicholas Church at Tverskaya Zastava by Priest Alexey Lopatin.

The first black Old Believer priest returned to his homeland. There, great and difficult labors awaited him. He needed to instruct his flock in the old rites, first and foremost, the two-fingered sign of the cross. He had to ensure the beauty of the church, adorning it not with printed icons but with painted ones. He had to replace the abbreviated New Greek liturgy with the full ancient Russian service.

None of this was easy. The parish in Kampala was very poor, lacking funds to acquire painted icons. Moreover, there were no iconographers in Uganda. The local language, Luganda, was little known in Europe, making it difficult to quickly translate liturgical books. English, though the official language of Uganda, was entirely unfamiliar to many native Ugandans, creating additional challenges.

Several times, Old Believers from Russia traveled to Uganda to support their brethren. They brought not only icons, books, and lestovki (Old Believer prayer ropes) for the community but also toys and clothing for the children.

Unfortunately, amid his tireless apostolic labors, Joachim Kiyimba was struck by a severe and prolonged illness. The indefatigable priest passed away on January 10, 2015. The Old Believer parish was left without a priest.

To remedy this dire situation, representatives of our Church traveled to Uganda once again in June of that same year. They sought a Christian worthy of becoming the new priest. In their search, they even ventured into remote areas of the country, where it was unsafe for a white man to appear.

Joachim Walusimbi was chosen to be ordained to the priesthood. At the end of July 2015, he traveled to Moscow to study the Old Rite liturgical practice. After the necessary preparation, Walusimbi was ordained a deacon on September 11 and a priest on September 20.

The new priest departed for his homeland on October 15, 2015, to continue preaching the Old Faith in distant Africa.