The Catalog of Good Deeds

On the second Sunday of Great Lent, there is a great feast in the blessed city of Thessalonika, Greece. It is the feast of St. Gregory Palamas. On this day, the holy relics of the saint are taken from the Church of St. Gregory in a procession throughout the city, escorted by bishops, priests, sailors, policemen, and thousands of faithful. One wonders why his earthly remains are still held in such great veneration. How could his bones remain incorruptible more than six hundred years after his death? Indeed, St. Gregory’s life clearly explains these wondrous facts. It illustrates the inspired words of the apostles that our bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit (see 1 Corinthians 6:19) and that we are "partakers of the divine nature” (2 Peter 1:4).

A Childhood Passion for the Eternal

St. Gregory Palamas was born in the year 1296. He grew up in Constantinople (now Istanbul, Turkey) in a critical time of political and religious unrest. Constantinople was slowly recovering from the devastating invasion of the Crusades. It was a city under attack from all sides. From the west, it was infiltrated by Western philosophies of rationalism and scholasticism and by many attempts at Latinization. From the east, it was threatened by Muslim Turkish military invaders. The peace and faith of its citizens were at stake.

Gregory’s family was wealthy. His father was a member of the senate. Upon his father’s sudden death, Byzantine Emperor Andronikos II Paleologos (1282–1328), who was a close friend of the family, gave it his full financial support. He especially admired Gregory for his fine abilities and talents, hoping that the brilliant young man would one day become a fine assistant. However, instead of accepting a high office in the secular world, Gregory sought “that good part, which will not be taken away” from him (Luke 10:42).

Upon finishing his studies in Greek philosophy, rhetoric, poetry, and grammar, Gregory, at only twenty or twenty-two years of age, followed a burning passion in his heart. Like a lover who strives to stay alone forever with his loved one, Gregory was thirsty for this living water (see Revelation 22:17). Therefore, no created thing could separate him from the love of God (see Romans 8:39). He simply withdrew to Mount Athos, an already established community of monasticism. He first stayed at the Vatopedi Monastery, and then moved to the Great Lavra.

Gregory’s departure was not a surprise to the rest of his family. Many priests and monks, friends of the family, frequently visited the family home. The parents were careful to pass on to their children the “pearl of great price” (Matthew 13:46). Great wealth and high education were not a hindrance, but an excellent tool in their pursuit of salvation. As a result of their way of life and belief, Gregory’s mother, two brothers, and two sisters soon distributed all their earthly possessions to the poor and entered different monasteries.

Living the Spiritual Experience of the Church

In Athos, the novice Gregory took as his spiritual guide St. Nicodemos of Vatopedi Monastery. This holy man of prayer guided Gregory on the path of ascetic labor: prayers, vigils, fasting, continuous repentance, and monastic obedience. The young novice Gregory was especially attached to the prayer of the heart, also known as the Jesus Prayer: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner” (see Luke 18:38).

The experienced practice of the Jesus Prayer, requiring solitude and silence combined with physical exercises and breathing methods, is called "hesychasm" (from the Greek hesychos, meaning inner stillness, peace, or silence). Those practicing it are called "hesychasts." Inner silence of this kind makes us capable of listening to the whispers of the divine within us. "The kingdom of God is within you" (Luke 17:21). Therefore, the Jesus Prayer is the prayer of the whole person, involving the human body, mind, soul, and heart.

The hesychasts spoke and wrote about their unique experience. They taught people to pray without ceasing, as the Apostle Paul commands all Christians to do (1 Thessalonians 5:17). They explained that in prayer, man is filled from within with the eternal glory, with the divine light beheld at the Transfiguration of Christ on Mount Tabor. The hesychast Gregory explains:

For, on the day of the Transfiguration, that Body, source of the light of grace, was not yet united with our bodies; it illuminated from outside those who worthily approached it, and sent the illumination into the soul by the intermediary of the physical eyes; but now, since it is mingled with us and exists in us, it illuminates the soul from within. (Triads I. 3.38)

The Jesus Prayer is not a mantra, as in Eastern religions, and it cannot be taken as such. The prayer’s call for “mercy” involves inner repentance and change. It is also a prayer practiced within the sacramental life of the Church, a prayer combined with Holy Communion, confession, reading the Word of God, fasting, loving one’s neighbor, and so forth. Finally, it is not a prayer using “vain repetitions” or babble, but a prayer recited again and again, in persistence (Luke 18:1), from the inner heart of man reaching the divine heights of glory, confessing Christ as the Lord and Savior, in sincerity, humility, and faith.

For that prayer (the Jesus Prayer) is true and perfect. It fills the soul with Divine grace and spiritual gifts. As chrism perfumes the jar the more strongly the tighter it is closed, so prayer, the more fast it is imprisoned in the heart, abounds the more in Divine grace. By this prayer the dew of the Holy Spirit is brought down upon the heart, as Elijah brought down rain on Mount Carmel. This mental prayer reaches to the very throne of God and is preserved in golden vials. This mental prayer is the light which illumines man's soul and inflames his heart with the fire of love of God. It is the chain linking God with man and man with God. (Palamas, “Homily on how all Christians in general must pray without ceasing,”in E. Kadloubovsky and G. E. H. Palmer, Early Fathers of the Philokalia, London: Faber and Faber, 1981, pp. 412–415)

Such prayer was practiced from the early Christian period. The hesychasts were drawn by God's unconditional graceful love (Romans 5:15) to fill a certain human need around them. Many hesychasts abandoned their solitude to serve their brothers, “since he who loves God must love his brother also” (1 John 4:21). Some cared for the sick in hospitals, like St. Basil the Great in Caesarea; others helped the poor, like St. John the Almsgiver in Alexandria; and yet others welcomed the faithful for confession. Nevertheless, they did not abandon the Jesus Prayer and their inner silence. In this sense, all Christians are called to follow this hesychast way leading to salvation.

Let no one think, my brother Christians, that it is the duty only of priests and monks to pray without ceasing, and not of laymen. No, no; it is the duty of all of us Christians to remain always in prayer every Christian in general should strive to pray always, and to pray without ceasing, this very name of our Lord Jesus Christ, constantly invoked by you, will help you to overcome all difficulties, and in the course of time you will become used to this practice and will taste how sweet is the name of the Lord. For when we sit down to work with our hands, when we walk, when we eat, when we drink we can always pray mentally and practice this mental prayer—the true prayer pleasing to God. (“Homily on how all Christians in general must pray without ceasing”)

In addition to his spiritual practice and daily scriptural readings, St. Gregory studied the works of the great Fathers, theologians, and ascetics of the Church. Just as a scientist builds on the evidence and data provided to him by his predecessors, Gregory made a fascinating synthesis of the scriptural and patristic teaching on the prayer of the heart, combined with his personal experience.

Although the monk Gregory in his youth had diligently studied Greek philosophy, he was not influenced by its views on matter. Ancient Greek philosophy believes that the body imprisons the soul, and thus it detests matter. Christians respect the body, since Christ made the flesh a source of sanctification, and matter (water, oil, etc.) a channel of divine grace. In his writings, St. Gregory affirmed that man, united in body and soul, is sanctified by Jesus Christ, who took a human body at the Incarnation. “When God is said to have made man according to His image,” wrote St. Gregory, “the word man means neither the soul by itself nor the body by itself, but the two together.” In another place, he added:

Thus the Word of God took up His dwelling in the Theotokos in an inexpressible manner and proceeded from her, bearing flesh. He appeared upon the earth and lived among men, deifying our nature and granting us, after the words of the divine Apostle, “things which angels desire to look into” (1 Peter 1:12). (A Homily on the Dormition of the Theotokos and Ever-Virgin Mary)

Father Gregory, Teacher

His unquenched thirst for God’s sweetness experienced in prayer moved the righteous Gregory to live as a hermit in a cell outside the monastery. In the year 1326, the threat of Turkish invasions forced him, along with his Athonite brothers, to retreat to Thessalonika. There he was ordained to the holy priesthood.

As a priest, Gregory did not abandon his spiritual labor and hesychasm. He spent most of the week alone in prayer. On the weekends, he celebrated divine services and preached sermons. He cared for the youth, calling them to discuss religious issues with him. Father Gregory was not concerned about abstract problems of philosophy, but about Christian faith experienced in prayer. He wanted to preach solely about problems of Christian existence, which are more attractive and meaningful to the young.

Soon, many of his spiritual sons expressed their desire to live in a monastic setting. So in the serene area of Vereia, near Thessalonika, he established a small community of monks, which he guided for five years. In 1331 the saint withdrew to Mt. Athos and lived in solitude at the Skete of St. Sabbas. In 1333 he was appointed abbot of the Esphigmenou Monastery in the northern part of the Holy Mountain. In 1336 he returned to the Skete of St. Sabbas, where he devoted himself to theological writing, continuing with this work until the end of his life.

But amidst all this, in the 1330s events took place in the life of the Eastern Church that placed St. Gregory among the most prominent teachers of Orthodox spirituality.

The Challenge of Rationalism

Around the year 1330, a certain monk Barlaam arrived in Constantinople from Calabria, Italy. He was a famous scholar, a skilled orator, and an acclaimed Christian teacher. Barlaam visited Mt. Athos and became acquainted with hesychasm.

Barlaam valued education and learning much more than contemplative prayer. Therefore, he believed the monks on Mount Athos were wasting their time in contemplative prayer when they should be studying. He ridiculed the ascetic labor and life of the monks, their methods of prayer, and their teachings about the uncreated light experienced by the hesychasts. Countering the traditional stance of the Church that “the theologian is the one who prays,” Barlaam asked: “How can an intimate communion of man with the Divine be achievable through prayer, since the Divine is transcendent and ‘dwelling in unapproachable light’ (1 Timothy 5:16)? No one can apprehend the essential being of God!” Barlaam was convinced that God can be reached only through philosophical, mental knowledge—in other words, through rationalism.

The words of Barlaam were not merely a challenge to a few monks. They defied the experience of the Church as a whole. The West, with its rationalistic tendencies, has associated the image of God with man’s intellect. Barlaam’s mind was full of rational arguments, but his heart was cold. Certainly, life with God is not just information, but also experience. Our living God cannot be conceived and described only by study, but must be spoken about from experience. “Did not our heart burn within us while He talked with us on the road, and while He opened the Scriptures to us?” (Luke 24:32).

Journeying from Mt. Athos to Thessalonika and Constantinople, Barlaam clashed with the monks, refusing to test their way of vigils, prayer, and fasting, or to accept their spiritual experience. Unfortunately, many monks were swayed by his arguments and stood by his side. Deceived by considering the living faith as mere rational knowledge, Barlaam waged a war against the ascetics.

At the request of the Athonite monks, St. Gregory countered at first with verbal admonitions. But seeing the futility of such efforts, he put his theological arguments in writing. Thus appeared the Triads in Defense of the Holy Hesychasts in the year 1338.

The Presence of God in Prayer

In his Triads, Palamas interpreted the experience of the Church by presenting logical arguments, based on the Scripture and the writings of the Fathers. Addressing the question of how it is possible for humans to have knowledge of a transcendent and unknowable God, he drew a distinction between knowing God in His essence, or nature, and knowing God in His energies, actions, or the means by which He acts.

To elaborate more, he made a comparison between God and the sun. The sun has its rays, God has His energies (among them, grace and light). By His energies, God creates, sustains, and governs the universe. By His energies, He transforms creation and deifies it, that is, He fills the new creation with His energies as water fills a sponge. These actions or energies of God are the true revelation of God Himself to humanity. So God is incomprehensible and unknowable in His nature or essence, but knowable in His energies. It is through His actions out of His love to the whole creation that God enters into a direct and immediate relationship with mankind, a personal confrontation between creature and Creator.

Towards the year 1340 the Athonite ascetics, with St. Gregory’s assistance, compiled a general reply to the attacks of Barlaam, the so-called Hagiorite Tome. Since the heated arguments flared everywhere in the churches, a general council was held at Constantinople in the year 1341. In front of hundreds of bishops and monastics, St. Gregory Palamas held an open debate with Barlaam in the halls of the Great Church of Hagia Sophia. On May 27, 1341, the council accepted the position of St. Gregory Palamas that God, unapproachable in His essence, reveals Himself through His energies, which are directed towards the world and are able to be perceived, like the light of Tabor, but which are neither material nor created. The teachings of Barlaam were condemned as heresy, and he himself was anathematized and returned to Calabria.

Second Triumph of Orthodoxy

But the dispute between the Palamites and the Barlaamites was far from finished. Politics came into play, and the politicians used the disputed religious issue as a threatening tool against those who supported Palamas. The great turmoil led to five consecutive church councils. One of the many scholars who advocated Barlaam’s position was the Bulgarian monk Akyndinos, who wrote a series of tracts against St. Gregory. Emperor Andronikos III Paleologos (1328–1341) was Akyndinos’s friend. Fearing the emperor, Patriarch John XIV Kalekos (1341–1347) backed Akyndinos, calling St. Gregory the cause of all disorders and disturbances in the Church (1344). He had St. Gregory locked up in prison for four years. In 1347, John XIV was replaced on the patriarchal throne by Isidore (1347–1349), a friend of St. Gregory. He set St. Gregory free and ordained him archbishop of Thessalonika.

In 1351, a sixth and final council was held to settle the heated controversial issues in the church. The Council of Blachernae solemnly upheld the orthodoxy of Palamas’ teachings and anathematized and excommunicated those who refused them. The anathemas of the council of 1351 were included in the rite for the Sunday of Orthodoxy in the Triodion. This council was considered the second triumph of Orthodoxy (the first being the restoration of icons). Later on, the memory of St. Gregory Palamas came to be celebrated in the Church on the second Sunday of Great Lent.

Imprisoned by Muslims

Gregory’s suffering for Christ did not end here. Again, because of the political influence of the West in Thessalonika, its citizens were divided upon the issue proclaimed by the councils. They did not immediately accept St. Gregory as archbishop, so that he was compelled to live in various places. On one of his travels to Constantinople, the Byzantine ship on which he was sailing fell into the hands of the Turkish Muslims. They took Archbishop Gregory as a prisoner, but displayed tolerance toward him. Even in captivity, St. Gregory preached to Christian prisoners and even held many debates with his Moslem captors. His love and respect for all men made his captors admire him and treat him with reverence. A year later, St. Gregory was ransomed and returned to Thessalonika.

The Proclamation of His Sainthood

St. Gregory was a living Gospel. God gave him the gift of healing, especially in the last three years before his death. On the eve of his repose, St. John Chrysostom appeared to him in a vision. St. Gregory Palamas fell asleep in the Lord on November 14, 1359. The Virgin Mary, the Apostle John, St. Dimitrios, St. Antony the Great, St. John Chrysostom, and angels of God all appeared to him at different times. Nine years after his repose, a council in Constantinople headed by Patriarch Philotheos (1354–1355, 1362–1376) proclaimed the sainthood of Gregory Palamas. Patriarch Philotheos himself compiled the life and services for the saint.

When we hear in the Lenten Liturgy of the Presanctified Gifts, “The Light of Christ illumines all,” may we remember the call of the illumined Gregory for unceasing prayer and ascetic labor, that we be truly illumined by the light of the Resurrection.

By Fr. Bassam A. Nassif

Source: https://vk.com/im?sel=17300736

By Matushka Constantina Palmer

Great Lent is a wonderful, if trying, time. It’s an opportunity to recharge our spiritual batteries and tell ourselves that despite falling down all year, now is the time to get back up. It’s a time to guard ourselves and give of ourselves in a multitude of ways. We often hear that it is not enough to merely abstain during Lent; we should also do during Lent. To be specific, we should give alms. But almsgiving does not need to consist only in giving money. If that was so, those who have little would find it nearly impossible to give alms.

Giving alms can be done in a variety of ways. The Greek word eleemosyne means “alms, charity, mercy.” In other words, almsgiving is also the act of being merciful, so something as simple as a kind word, or a word not spoken, can be alms. Going to three different grocery stores to find those special ingredients so you can make your husband a delicious recipe because he is tired and a tasty fasting meal will lift his spirits, can be alms.

If we are watchful and mindful, we can find opportunities to give alms when we are shopping, by letting someone behind us go ahead. We can smile at someone on the street who looks like he’s having a hard day. We can go out of our way to help those we see struggling or say an extra prayer rope for those we know need it. We can visit the sick, spend an extra five minutes during coffee hour listening to someone unload about their difficult week, and tell an uplifting spiritual story. We can volunteer to help a young mother with her energetic little ones, and pick up after our own children for possibly the umpteenth time without grumbling. If we look for opportunities to give alms, if we ask God to put those opportunities in our lives, then we will see them on a daily basis.

Here’s my challenge to all of us: to give this Great Lent, to give and to pray and to thank God for the ability to do so. But, I would like to add an extra element to this challenge. Let’s give and not tell. Let’s give and not even recall our good deeds to ourselves. Let’s give and forget that we did good. For in reality it is God who should be credited for inspiring us to give. This is what the Gospel teaches us, to give to the poor (in whatever way we are able, to whatever kind of poverty we encounter) – but not let our “left hand” know what we’ve done (Matt 6:3).

Let’s become cheerful givers. And if we’re not cheerful right off the bat, let’s not be dismayed. I believe we’ll become cheerful through giving. It’s a worthy goal, for God loves the cheerful giver (2 Corin. 9:7).

Let’s arrive at Pascha having given of ourselves, having hidden our good deeds from others and ourselves. And let’s pray that while we were giving, our neighbour saw Christ in us – the True Giver of all good. Let’s pray that when we give alms, when others see us being merciful, we will be able to honestly say, “he who has seen me has seen the Father” (John 14:9) because it is not us who gives, but Christ who gives through us.

Lastly, let’s not be found giving alms with our right hand and taking away the spiritual profit with our left by becoming puffed up, thinking we are good Christians. No, let’s give God the glory.

Source: https://oca.org/reflections/misc-authors/almsgiving-a-challenge-to-give-with-the-right-and-hide-from-the-left-matt

The church of Saint Sulpice, located in the 6th arrondissement near the Jardin de Luxembourg in Paris, is a 17th century edifice, built on the site of a 13th century Romanesque chapel. Several years ago it became a major tourist attraction due to a number of intriguing but false historical notes about it published in Dan Brown’s highly imaginary book, The Da Vinci Code. It is a magnificent if heavily baroque structure, soaring to some 34 meters, making it one of France’s most imposing Roman Catholic places of worship. It’s also something of a pre-Vatican II throwback, with its pious statues and a money box, still suspended on a side-pillar, that begs funds “for souls in purgatory.”

For years exterior work on the church has left it partially enveloped in canvas and scaffolding. That hasn’t lessened interest, though, in what many parishioners and tourists most appreciate about it today. That is the two life-sized photographs of the Shroud of Turin (now separated in their niche on the back left by a regrettable piece of “artwork”). The photos show, with remarkable detail, the front and back of the body of a beaten and crucified Jew, almost certainly of the first century A.D. To a great many people, including both Christian and non-Christian specialists, these images depict the crucified body of Jesus of Nazareth.

In a recent update of his decades-long study of the Shroud, Ian Wilson has gathered virtually all the relevant evidence that backs the theory of the Shroud’s authenticity. (More research is needed on the cloth, now in a Spanish cathedral, I believe, that purportedly covered Jesus’ face from the time he was taken down from the cross until he was laid in the tomb and covered, back and front, with the long linen Shroud. This cloth is presumably the “napkin” noted in John 20:7, which the disciple Peter found “rolled up in a place by itself.”)

Wilson’s book is titled simply The Shroud, although it adds the rather sensationalist subtitle, “The 2000-year-old mystery solved” (!). Whether the mystery of the Shroud’s origins has really been solved depends on the reader’s evaluation of the evidence Wilson has marshaled and presented here. I find it thoroughly convincing—at the very least in demonstrating, against a great deal of popular opinion, that the object cannot possibly be a medieval forgery. Details of the image can only be seen with the aid of modern photography and other technologies that no forger in the Middle Ages possessed. The carbon 14 dating done over a decade ago has been shown to be unreliable, and there remain such features as pollen imbedded in the tissue that dates from the first century. In addition, wounds on the body, from the marks on the back and legs to the severe injuries to the scalp, correspond exactly to the descriptions given by the Gospels of the beating Jesus received at his trial, of the crown (or cap) of thorns, of the damage done to his back and face by bearing and falling with the patibulum (the crossbar to which he was nailed), and of the way he was crucified.

There is no point in rehearsing here the evidence Wilson has gathered. I am in no way a specialist in the field and was not even able to view the Shroud at its latest exhibition in Turin a few months ago. I simply want to say something about the impression I have had viewing those life-sized photos at the church of Saint Sulpice.

Outside of tourist season in Paris, St Sulpice is a rather quiet, peaceful place to spend time and to pray. At the entrance you make your way past several beggars, whose outstretched hands already place the steps in a “gospel” framework (“Freely you have received…”). Enter through the heavy wooden doors, pass behind the iron barrier, beyond which are hundreds of straight-backed wooden chairs, and in the center make the sign of the cross before the altar. Move back to the right side, then down to the front chapel, dedicated, as is the custom, to the Virgin Mary, and spend a few moments gazing at her lovely statue hovering above. Continue circling the church, passing by side-altars with murals by Delacroix, and spend some time examining the famous gnomon and the several outstanding organs. Then come to the alcove in the back that holds those remarkable photographs of the Shroud.

A worn wooden bench along the right hand side permits you to sit, more or less comfortably, and contemplate those images. People come by, singly or in small groups. They pause, read the description posted in several languages, then move on. Some stay a little longer to pray.

In that atmosphere, before those images, the mystery of the Shroud takes on new dimensions. The sharpness of the details places you almost forcefully at the scene—first of Jesus’ trial, with the beating by the bone-tipped whip that dug deep gashes into his flesh. Marks on the shoulders and legs, the apparently broken nose, and the trails of blood on the forehead (forming a number 3…) all bear witness to the agony experienced along the way to Golgotha, including the falls that prompted the soldiers to summon Simon of Cyrene to carry the patibulum in Jesus’ stead. Then there is the crucifixion itself, perhaps the most tormenting and horrible form of execution ever devised. This reliving of those tragic moments finally brings you to the burial itself, with the crucified body being “wrapped in a linen shroud and laid in a new tomb.”

Most touching and most impressive of all is that face. Beyond the agony, the desperation and the exhaustion there is extraordinary dignity, solemnity and beauty. Iconologists would study that face and come to the realization that it is the prototype of all icons of Christ from the fourth century on, when the Shroud was rediscovered and revered for what it is. Images of the beardless Jesus, found in the catacombs and elsewhere, gave way at that time to this face, this remarkable image of the Crucified One.

Sitting on that hard bench for long minutes or for an hour or more, you lose all sense of time and place. This has become sacred time, sacred space, because of the proximity, the intimate closeness, of the one whose image speaks in a language of love, compassion and infinite mercy.

There is no absolute proof of anything regarding the origin of this cloth or the way in which the imprint was made. But in the blessed quiet of that place, there can be little doubt that this Shroud reveals not just a human form. It is not just a relic from the distant past. To pray before it gives the surest proof one could ask for that this image is truly that of our crucified and risen Lord, and that this cloth is nothing less than the original icon “not made by human hands.”

Source: https://oca.org/reflections/fr.-john-breck/the-sacred-shroud

A memoir from 5 years ago:

"As the fifth anniversary of the signing of the Act of Canonical Communion between the two parts of the Russian Orthodox Church approaches, Protopriest Serafim Gan, secretary of two First Hierarches, Metropolitan Laurus and Metropolitan Hilarion, talks about little-known details in the preparation for the ecclesial reconciliation.

— Fr Serafim, can you recall when the need for and possibility of the reestablishment of Eucharistic union between the Church in the Fatherland and Church Abroad began to be discussed openly?

- Discussions on the reestablishment of unity within the Russian Orthodox Church began when the division itself began. On both sides, Orthodox Christians yearned for this, we strove for this, but serious discussions on unity only began in the mid-1990’s, when those of us in the diaspora began to notice positive changes in the Church in Russia. We began then to travel to our historic homeland.

Metropolitan Laurus had made several pilgrimages to Russia, Ukraine, visiting holy sites, meeting with clergymen and monastics. He also had meetings—discreet, of course—with bishops of the Russian Orthodox Church, in particular with his spiritual friend Metropolitan Onufry of Chernovitsa and Bukovino. And when they would meet, they did not discuss the situation in Russia, or the division, but talked about prayer, monasteries, holy sites, all the things that they held dear.

At the beginning of the new century, church-historical conferences began on an official level with the participation of clergymen and scholars both from the Russian Church Abroad and the Moscow Patriarchate. In 2003, President Vladimir Putin offered to meet with Metropolitan Laurus in New York, at which he passed on an invitation to the First Hierarch from His Holiness Patriarch Alexy II to visit Russia.

So Metropolitan Laurus made his first official visit to Russia together with a large delegation from the Russian diaspora, during which, besides visiting Moscow and St Petersburg, we went to important holy sites in Ekaterinburg and Kursk. It was during this visit that the bilateral discussions began.

- Tell us about the preparations for the first meeting between the two Primates.

- The meeting was postponed several times. At first it was proposed for January, 2004, but both hierarchs had other commitments. Then they considered March. But Vladyka Laurus, for whom Great Lent was especially important, did not wish to travel then, deciding it would be better to fast properly, greet Pascha and only then, with renewed strength, make this important visit.

In December, 2003, after a regular session of the Council of Bishops, we began to prepare for the trip. I remember a meeting with Metropolitan Laurus not in the Synod but in a midtown Manhattan cafe, when Vladyka asked me to draft a list of possible delegates.

At the outset he recommended Archbishop Mark of Berlin and Germany and Archbishop Kyrill of San Francisco and Western America, who participated in a small delegation which had met with the late Patriarch in November, 2003, and asked that representatives from every diocese of the Russian Church Abroad be included, and not only proponents of the reestablishment of Eucharistic communion but even those who were doubtful of, or even opposed to, unity.

In early 2004, Vladyka Laurus approved the list and asked me to draft invitations, some of which were mailed, while others were given to priests in person by the Metropolitan.

Some were grateful for the invitation, though one clergyman called me and in an elevated tone declared “under no circumstances will I go and kiss the hand of a chekist!” Only one priest declined to go due to his health, others for ideological reasons. One pastor was very interested in this trip, but feared that his parishioners would not understand and would condemn him for going.

- How many people participated in the first official delegation of the Russian Orthodox Church Outside of Russia?

- The official delegation, which was to participate in all discussions, included ten persons, while another fifteen clergymen were in the pilgrimage group which had a different schedule.

May 12th arrived, and most of the trip’s US participants gathered in New York. After taking care of matters at the Synod at around 11 pm, I went home, and Synod staff members Eugene Grigoriak and Deacon Eugene Kallaur began packing icons with parts of the relics of St John (Maximovich) of Shanghai, and other gifts.

I remembered a story told to me by Protopriest Stefan Pavlenko of California about a conversation which took place long ago, in Belgrade. Fr Stefan’s mother often helped at the bishops’ refectory at the Russian Holy Trinity Church in that city, where hierarchs and clergymen often met and ate together.

Once, as she was setting the table, the late mother of Fr Stefan spoke to a clergyman who was considered by the local Russians to be prescient (whose name Fr Stefan couldn’t recall). He pointed a finger at Hiermonk John (Maximovich) and told her: “With his relics, the Russian people will begin to return to Russia.”

Fr Stefan’s mother told her son about this not long before her death in the 1980’s as they stood in the hierarch’s tomb under the Cathedral in San Francisco. This story by the priest from California warmed my heart; it was a good and reassuring thing to know that this great holy hierarch of the Russian diaspora was accompanying us and aiding the work of our Church.

We visited the holy sites relating to the Holy New Martyrs of Russia and clearly saw that their podvig was in fact the seed of the renaissance of church life in Russia today; we were moved by the warmth of His Holiness Patriarch Alexy II towards Metropolitan Laurus and to all of the members of the delegation.

The Patriarch shared his experiences, and told us about what he had to endure during the years of Soviet rule. Many truths were spoken during these meetings, and some of those who participated in this trip were ready to resume prayerful communion right away. But we left this matter for future discussion, for finalization, and to make sense of the period in the life of the Church when we were divided.

- Who on the part of the Church Abroad contributed most to the rapprochement and reunification of the two parts of the Russian Church?

- That would be Archbishop Mark of Berlin and Germany, President of the Commission on Discussions with the Moscow Patriarchate, who in fact led the negotiation process and manifested the instructions of Metropolitan Laurus; Protopriest Alexander Lebedeff, Rector of Holy Transfiguration Cathedral in Los Angeles; Protopriest Nikolai Artemoff, Senior Priest of the Munich Cathedral, and others.

During the work of the commissions, we many times turned to our history, to the works and the positions of the founders of the Russian Church Abroad, its hierarchs, and the works of the New Martyrs. They all helped us find the correct ecclesiological path towards unity.

I remember how Vladyka Laurus often said that he wished that the reestablishment of unity would happen as King David the Psalmist wrote: “Lovingkindness and truth have met together; Righteousness and peace have kissed each other.” These words became the guiding star in our discussions.

- Fr Serafim, if we talk about the roles played by Patriarch Alexy II and Metropolitan Laurus, would it be appropriate in your opinion to use the expression that “their personalities coincided in history” in the context of the reunification of the Russian Church?

- My first meeting with His Holiness Patriarch Alexy II took place in 2000. I traveled to Moscow from Australia as a clergyman of that diocese. My friend, Fr Joseph Shaposhnikov, was then the Dean and Sacristan of the Patriarchal Cathedrals in the Kremlin and oversaw the Patriarchal services held there.

He introduced me to His Holiness and we were able to discuss a great deal during that meeting. The Patriarch told me that he hoped that the next First Hierarch of the Russian Orthodox Church Outside of Russia would be Vladyka Laurus: “He knows Russia, it will be easy to work with him.”

I also remember the first meeting between His Holiness Patriarch Alexy II and Metropolitan Laurus in 2004, in Butovo Square. That day, they jointly blessed the site for the future Cathedral of the New Martyrs and Confessors of Russia. They met before Liturgy, and I heard the Patriarch tell one of the clergymen there “You can sense the old monastic school abiding in this man.”

This was true: the “old school” was palpable in both church leaders. Of course, I was close to Metropolitan Laurus and knew that he sensed the weight of responsibility of his duties.

Both hierarchs had endured the sorrows of division and both understood that it was necessary to quickly heal these ecclesial wounds, and both yearned for the wholeness of the Church. Therefore, in my opinion, by Divine Will, these personalities coincided.

Over a period of three years, three rounds of discussions were held, and the rite of the signing of the Act of Canonical Communion was prepared. In December, 2006, the date of the signing was scheduled for the Paschal period—May, 2007.

- I recall the fresh May morning with the droplets of rain before Christ the Savior Cathedral, and the blinding, bright morning on the Sunday after the Ascension in front of the church in Butovo. Long before Liturgy began, priests from Russia and abroad were already hearing confessions at analogia placed on the street. And the inexpressibly huge number of clergymen and pilgrims present from a great variety of countries, wherever there were Russian parishes.

Fr Serafim, how many people from the Church Abroad participated in the signing of the Act of Canonical Communion? How was the delegation assembled?

- We decided to use the same method employed in 2004, inviting representatives from each diocese. The official delegation included ten people, and twenty clerical pilgrims. There were about five hundred pilgrims from the laity! We also invited a choir assembled from fifty singers from various dioceses.

My matushka and I assumed the administrative duties for the trip: we had to obtain visas for everyone, and order tickets. We contacted Aeroflot and chartered a plane for two hundred people from New York to Moscow. Large groups of pilgrims also came from Australia and Europe, and all of them needed transportation in Moscow, tickets to services and other events.

We appealed for help to the parishioners of the Church Abroad who worked in Moscow. They helped provide cell phones and transportation. The Department of External Church Relations and Sretensky Monastery helped with hotel accommodations and luncheons. Rostislav Orlovsky-Tanaevsky-Blanco, who hailed from Venezuela and lives in Moscow, who owns a chain of restaurants there, hosted a large reception in honor of all the visiting parishioners of the Church Abroad and representatives of the Moscow Patriarchate after divine services in the Kremlin’s Uspensky Cathedral on May 20.

One of our parishioners hosted a reception for the joint choir after they sang at a Patriarchal all-night vigil in Bolshoye Vozneseniye Church. Fr Tikhon, Prior of Sretensky Monastery, organized a huge reception on the monastery grounds. Their hospitality was astounding. During those days, serving together and communing of a single Chalice made us forget the years of separation…

- But there were losses which are still felt today by us all…

- There were people who loved Metropolitan Laurus and had received a great deal of help from him in their clerical careers, and it was painful to see them turn away from him, some even going into schism. Many of them were worthy pastors, and we lost a lot of good people of the Church, who were deceived, or whose personal gain prompted them to leave, or those who were simply afraid.

Over the last five years, some of them have repented. We still have some contact with those who left us, on a personal level, in hopes that they will return to the Mother Church.

The Russian Orthodox Church Outside of Russia did not lose its independence with the signing of the Act of Canonical Communion: we decide our own internal matters, including management of church property, and we appoint our own hierarchs and clergymen.

Maybe there are still things that confuse and alienate people from the Church, but it is only in the Kingdom of Heaven where everything will be perfect, meanwhile, the Church is a divine and a human organism: in the Church, one meets with God and one also sees many human failings. But that fact shouldn’t drive us away.

Let us remember what the Gospel says: it was neither Jews nor Romans but human passions that crucified Christ, but the Crucifixion leads eternally towards resurrection. So one must see Divine allowance in these passions, which leads us also to renewal.

- We are talking today on the eve of the departure of the delegation of the Russian Church Abroad to Moscow to participate in the anniversary celebrations. There will also be celebrations held abroad…

- This time there will be a more modestly-sized delegation: Archbishop Mark of Berlin and Germany, Archbishop Michael of Geneva and Western Europe; Protopriest Alexander Lebedeff from the US and Protopriest Andrew Phillips of England, and I will go as Secretary to the First Hierarch, Metropolitan Hilarion, who will head our delegation.

We are all members of the working group that continues to discuss matters relating to strengthening our ecclesial unity. One of the items on our agenda this time will be the question of ROCOR parishes in Russia. Now there are no more than ten of them. In accordance with the Act of Canonical Communion, the time has come for these parishes to merge with the local dioceses where they are located.

The part of the Church Abroad which is outside of Russia is preparing a large hierarchal conference to mark the 5th-anniversary, with the participation of all the bishops of the united Russian Orthodox Church who serve in the diaspora, and also hierarchs from Russia. This conference will be held in London in October.

- Fr Serafim,what does the unity of the Russian Church mean for you personally, and for your family?

- I have awaited this since childhood. When I was growing up, I saw that Papa subscribed to periodicals published both in the diaspora and in Moscow. And I always wondered: why aren’t we together? I learned from my father that our family yearned for unity and never condemned those who were on the “other side of the curtain.”

My great-grand-uncle, Archbishop Yuvenaly (Kilin) began his hierarchal service in China, and in 1947 found himself in Russia and was later buried in Izhevsk, at the altar of the local cathedral. My grandfather, meanwhile, emigrated to Australia and served as a clergyman there, building a big church dedicated to the Protection of the Most-Holy Mother of God, and a Russian school and old-age home.

New Hieromartyr Andronik of Perm ordained my great-grandfather to the priesthood—Fr Konstantin Yumin. Archbishop Andronik was killed in 1918, and Fr Konstantin also died in a concentration camp.

All of our ancestors desired reunification. And we always strove towards this.

When in 2000, I prayed during one of the Patriarchal services in Arkhangelsky Cathedral in Moscow’s Kremlin, I asked the Lord to grant me the opportunity to make some small contribution in the work of reestablishing unity within the Russian Church. After I returned to Australia, Vladyka Laurus soon became the Metropolitan and suggested that I move to America. I saw this as an answer to my prayers.

For me, the unity of the Church is the living bond with Russia, her holy sites and New Martyrs. We always strove to this living bond, and now all we must do is make use of what God has granted us in response to our prayers."

By Protopriest Serafim Gan

Source: http://www.synod.com/synod/engdocuments/enart_protseraphimgannewmartyrs.html

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