Fr. Eugene Pavelchuk: There is no Christianity
without carrying one's cross, i.e., without accepting God's will and cutting
off one's own: Whosoever will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up
his cross, and follow me (Mark 8:34). One must accept God's will wholeheartedly
and without doubts. Of course, there is no Christianity without love. Love is
the core.
First Memories of God
— My
grandmother was a believer, — Father Eugene recalls. — She inspired my first
memories of God. I was born in 1966. I grew under the Soviet regime with all
that it meant. Still, I remember very well that my grandmother would pray all
the time. She would even get up in the night to talk to God. She would mention
all her relatives by names in prayer. I remember how I lay on my bed pretending
that I was sleeping but instead, I was listening intently to her words. We
slept in the same room.
I recall
her stories about Jesus Christ, “There was Jesus Christ who was the Son of God.
He healed many people and performed many miracles but then He was killed. They
crucified him and buried him in a tomb. She would tell me this story, and it was
almost as if a documentary chronicle unfolded in front of my eyes. “They lay
him in the Tomb and blocked the entrance with a stone. When they returned the
following morning to check the tomb, the stone was rolled away, and the tomb
was empty.” My soul was terrified. Is it real? The tomb was empty, the stone
was rolled away!
That was
my first impression of God and Jesus Christ. My grandmother led a genuinely
Christian life. She was very kind. Whenever any of my friends came to me, she
would invariably give them something to eat, saying, for instance, “This boy
doesn’t have a father.” She never held grudge against anyone. She would leave
us every spring. I was curious, “Where does she go?” It turned out that, due to
the fact that there was not a single church in our town, my grandmother would
travel to her native village every Lent to go to church, confess, and take
communion.
Never a Young Pioneer. Never a Little
Octobrist. Never a Komsomolist
I went to
a regular Soviet school. By the way, my life was so special that I did not
enroll neither in the Little Octobrists’ Organisation nor in the Young Pioneers
and not even in the Komsomol, like everyone else. I went to school when I was
too young. I was younger than everyone else in my class. When everyone was accepted
into these Soviet children’s organisations, my age didn’t match the
requirements. It was as if they forgot about me. Later, they asked me: “Where’s
your red necktie?” I replied, “I don’t have one.” “Impossible! Quick, go home
and bring your necktie.” I left and spent some time walking around. “So,
where’s your necktie?” “I don’t have a necktie.” The Pioneer leader took her
necktie off her neck, “Here you are, wear it.” Well, I put the necktie on. I
did not study the official charters and did not swear the official oath. That
was how God rescued me!
The same
story happened with the Komsomol. I had spent four years in college when the
military commissar asked me during an attestation:
— Where
is your Komsomol membership card?
— What do
you mean?
— I mean,
your membership card. Are you making a fool of me?
— I don’t
have a membership card.
— Aren’t
you a Komsomolist? How dare you?!
He called
to the college: “There is a guy who is not a Komsomolist. Do you know that?
What’s wrong with you? I’m sending him back to you. He must come here with a
Komsomol membership card tomorrow!” When I got back to my college, I found out
that they had issued a Komsomol card for me already. When I was in the army, I
was hailed as “The Best Komsomolist”. It’s funny because I hadn’t actually
become a member of the Komsomol. That was how it all happened.
What Do I Live For?
It was in
the army that I started thinking about God for the first time. It wasn’t
because I had to endure hardships there. I was stationed near Moscow in a
missile defence unit and spent two years never leaving the forest. It was a
secret unit. However, during my second year in the army, I was appointed a
clerk of the Secret Department. It was a high-responsibility job but at the
same time I had enough free time. I read a lot of books and spent even more
time thinking. When I was re-reading Dostoyevsky, whom I really rediscovered as
I grew older, I started thinking, “Life can’t be pointless… What do I live for?
What is my life’s purpose? Just living? Eating, sleeping, drinking… What for?
Having a family is great but what’s next? Where’s the meaning in all that?” It
was during my service in the military that the thought about the existence of
God took roots in my heart.
Seeking For The Truth And The First Easter
I
returned home from the army in 1987 and was admitted to the Institute of
Culture in Minsk. There were many books around, except the Bible and the
Gospel. Bhagavad Gita (an ancient Indian sacred text written in Sanskrit, the
foundational document of the Hindu philosophy) was everywhere, in all shops, on
all corners.
Blavatskaya’s
books were everywhere, too… I almost got into trouble: I started reading
Bhagavad Gita but, praise the Lord, I didn’t go deep into that doctrine. I was
confounded and learned that some doctrines can be dicey.
There is
a story when Arjuna goes to battle with his uncles. Krishna tells Arjuna, “You
must kill your uncles.” “Why?” “You must.” “Why? What for? I will simply defeat
them. They are my uncles, why should I kill them?” “I, Krishna, tell you so.”
That is, he does not provide any explanation. It’s just because he “wants it.”
I was
bewildered: of course, war is war but why kill the uncles? I felt tense after
reading the Gita: its spirituality sounded weird… Blavatskaya was even worse,
absolute darkness. I couldn’t read her books for more than 5-10 minutes. After
that, I was repulsed. Finally, I reached the simple conclusion: all that
glitters is not gold. Spirituality can be positive or negative.
Accidentally,
I got an old Gospel book in the late 1980s. I read it overnight. Sure enough, I
didn’t understand much of it at first but the Good News were a gust of fresh
air for me. When my room-mate got up the next morning, I set out talking
emphatically, “Here is the Truth! Here is the Truth!” He had been used to my
reading various crazy books. He challenged me, “Why do you think that you’re
right this time? You have already told me about other books that they were
clever or intriguing…” I fell silent. Instantly, my heart sent me the answer —
it wasn’t a thought, it was just a spiritual feeling — “It is true because it
is full of love.”
Christianity
became the long-anticipated lighthouse for me. At first, I couldn’t tell the
difference between various brands of Christianity. The Church was not allowed
to preach openly yet, and I wasn’t ready to go to church. I saw an advertisement
on the street: wow, that’s what I have been waiting for — I’m going to a
Christian worship service. I came to a large hall. There were guitars, a Yamaha
keyboard, and the people were singing about God. A preacher stepped forward.
“Finally, there’s going to be a sermon.” I was surprised to see a theatrical
performance instead. The preacher started speaking quietly, in a low voice,
gradually raising it and eventually burst out screaming, “Get up everybody!”
All people took to their feet, raised their hands and started mumbling
something loudly… Now I know that they were Pentecostals but at that time, I
didn’t know who they were, I was simply terrified: Where am I? I stood up and
made my way to the exit… When I got out of that hall, it made me realise that the
saying “All that glitters is not gold” is true for Christianity, too…
I was
still very eager to discover the truth. I was visited by the following thought
one day: “I’m Orthodox, baptised when I was a child. Sure, it’s been a while
since I last visited an Orthodox church but it may be time to go to church
again.” There were only two functioning churches in Minsk at that time: St
Alexander Nevsky Church and Holy Spirit Cathedral. I came to Holy Spirit
Cathedral, stood at the door, and that was when I felt that I was at home: it
was so warm and good. “What have you been looking for so long? Here it is!”
First, I
dropped in for a couple of minutes. Then I started coming more often and
staying longer. I turned to God when I was about 22. I remember my first
Easter. It was in 1988, the 1000th anniversary of the Baptism of Rus’. The
church was encircled by the police. They did not let young people in. Old
ladies could go through the police lines freely but we young people were kept
off. I was furious, “Why they can go to church and I can’t?” “They are
believers.” “I’m a believer, too.” “Are you really?” “Yes, I am. I’m a
believer.” “Okay, come in.” They let me go into the church. That was how I went
to church on Easter. I was jubilant and happy. Easter is a very special day,
indeed.
Little by
little, I started going to church. I couldn’t live without it. I would get up
at 5 AM on my only day-off, when I could have made up for lack of sleep, and go
to church.
Ministry
Gradually,
I became a practising Christian. I read many books and found out many new
facts. However, the decisive moment for me was my mother's death. She died in
1990 just a couple of days before the New Year. She was 50. Praise the Lord, I
had already had faith at that time. Otherwise, I don't know how I would survive
her death. It was thanks to my faith that I did not protest against my mother's
death. Instead, I started going to church more often to pray for my mum. My
faith went through a qualitative transformation. Until then, I was trying to approach
the faith from a rational standpoint but at that point my heart turned on to
embrace the faith. Holy Fathers call it, "the mind that dwells in the
heart."
My father
died three years later. I had to pull through somehow and determine my
subsequent steps. I followed my would-be wife to Hrodna. She was assigned to
Hrodna as a young specialist, and I followed her. I worked as the director of a
House of Culture. We settled down and made this place our new home. Needless to
say, our life in the 1990s was very difficult. Anyway, I attended church
regularly. We celebrated our wedding ceremony in the Hrodna Cathedral.
I
attended services in the Cathedral on a regular basis. I was driving across a
bridge over the river one day and saw a small church on the shore under the
bridge. I decided to go and confess there. This ostensibly insignificant step
determined my future life in many ways. I grew fond of this parish as soon as I
walked into the church.
First, I
got actively involved with the Fraternity of St Vladimir Church. Although
Sundays were business days for the House of Culture, I would come up with more
and more new reasons to go to church on Sunday morning. I felt very
uncomfortable, especially during disco parties.
Meanwhile,
I began to sing in the choir, and then reading aloud. There were few priests at
that time. Even fewer priests had theological education. My parish priest
suggested that I become a deacon. I replied, "Are you serious, Father? I
used to lead a bad life in the past. No-no-no. I go to church, sure, but
serving God..." — "Take your time and think about it. Your past
doesn't matter." Later, he suggested the same thing again, and the thought
took roots in my heart.
Two
priests came to visit us at home in the residence hall. They wanted to talk
about it with my wife Irina. They started talking her into allowing me to
become a deacon. "You see, there are few priests right now. Your husband
is very lively. Would you mind if..." "Yes! Yes, I would mind
it!"
She was
adamant. Six months later, Irina looked at me and said, "I see that you
are already there. Make up your mind at last!" She was acutely aware of
the fact that priesthood is not an easy road for the entire family.
I became
a deacon in 1995 and spent nine years as a deacon. I don't think I would ever
become a priest but then they transferred me to a district centre — a town
named Ščučyn 37 miles from Hrodna, and commissioned me to build a new church
there. It was there that I was made a priest. I served in a rural parish, in a
district centre, and in Hrodna. God's Providence has led me to Minsk. St
Vladimir Church was the basis of my ministry. I served in Holy Protection
Cathedral in Hrodna for nine years before I finally came to Minsk.
Each
parish is different. The atmosphere in a rural parish is very special. Singing
is very simple but at the same time a rural parish is marked with incredible
love because people know each other and live close to each other. It is very
cosy.
I believe
that my life journey is an ordinary one. Anyway, the amazing God's Providence
can be seen even in this triviality.
Saint Elisabeth Convent
You know,
I am very glad that I serve in St Elisabeth Convent now. When Father Andrew
told me, "Father Eugene, you know, our Convent is special: we have many
ministries and demand absolute obedience." I replied, "I have always
lived like that. Not to the same extent, perhaps, but the principle has been
the same." Two months later, Father Andrew asked me in the sanctuary,
"Well, Father Eugene, how are you going? Is it difficult or exhausting to
serve in the Convent?" I responded, “Father, I feel like I’m in the
paradise!”
I did not
try to flatter him or to make a false impression. Sure, there are many duties
that you have to carry out, and you often feel tired. In spite of that, the
spiritual environment makes you stronger. This is especially true of
relationships among priests. Father Andrew, of course, sets an example for all
of us. He is so full of love that he is even afraid to offend someone with his
words. Even if I deserve to be punished, he talks with me in a soft voice, with
love and patience... You've got to appreciate it, don't you?
I see
what people feel when they come to the Convent and how they enjoy services, in
spite of the fact that not everyone is able to stand during the four-hour long
All-Night Vigil. People who have serious health issues come to the Convent, and
God’s strength is made perfect in weakness (Cf. 2 Cor. 12: 9). It's a unique
place. It is hard but at the same time very graceful to be here. Praise the
Lord. I am grateful to God for being here.
Quick Poll
– What does it mean to be a Christian in the
21st century?
Carrying
one's cross, just like in the 1st century. There is no Christianity without
carrying one's cross, i.e., without accepting God's will and cutting off one's
own: Whosoever will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross,
and follow me (Mark 8:34). One must accept God's will wholeheartedly and
without doubts. Of course, there is no Christianity without love. Love is the
core.
– Name three virtues that you value most of
all.
Faith,
hope, and love: these are the three main virtues. Faith means being faithful,
hope means relying on God and trusting him, and love means sacrifice. Love
always means sacrifice.
– Name
three things that can easily make you angry.
I’m
triggered very easily. It's my personal flaw. I know it and keep trying to do
something about it. I am very emotional, indeed. I struggle with bad thoughts
like “How could he do it?” I always recall Prince Myshkin from Dostoyevsky’s
The Idiot, who was always trying to find excuses for everyone, “Yes, sure, he
is such-and-such, but he did it because of his hard life.” I drive such angry
thoughts away so as not to condemn anyone. I know that the Lord will instruct
everyone including me first of all, since I'm even worse.
– What vices are you most inclined to forgive?
A vice is
a term of ethics defined as being rooted in sin and unworthy behaviour. A vice
is a defect of the soul. There is an eponymous medical term that is used to
refer to heart diseases or malfunctions. All sins are defects of the soul. This
is how the Holy Fathers understood it, and this is how I see it. If a doctor
does not pity his patient, if he starts criticising the patient for being sick
– can he be called a doctor? You shouldn't criticise people. You should treat
them.
– What do you think about happiness? What can
make a person happy?
It's
"who", not "what." God is the source of all happiness.
There can be no happiness without God. Yes, fake happiness is possible without
God. An individual can create an idol in his own soul – a passion for the sake
of which he lives. Happiness can come only from God. It is God who is the true
happiness.
– What do you consider to be the worst
nightmare?
It is
when one loses God. If someone loses God, he is captured by total non-being and
disappointment. Losing God means losing the meaning of one's life completely.
Interview by Maria Kotova
January 26, 2018
St.
Elisabeth Convent
CONVERSATION