The Catalog of Good Deeds

We perish but aren’t dying

Our souls are stripped and bare

In flames but not consumed by fire,

That’s the Unburnt Bush!

- Maximillian Voloshin, 1919

The Unburnt Bush is one of the most vivid biblical images. It has inspired many artists and writers. However, the icon of the Mother of God the Unburnt Bush is truly the most meaningful and all-encompassing image. If we recall that early Christians used to call icons the painted Gospel, the Unburnt Bush icon can be called the painted Bible because its images represent some narratives taken both from the New and from the Old Testament.

It belongs to the fourth, and the last, type of Marian iconography, the Akathist one. In other words, it illustrates a certain descriptive term used in the Akathist or other works of church poetry to characterise the Mother of God. This time, it points at the Old Testament prototype of Virgin Mary: the Unburnt Bush.

The bush in question is referred to as Senekh, a thornbush, in Hebrew. According to the majority of biblical scholars, it belongs to a certain species of mimosa or acacia, which grows in the desert. Mount Sinai was covered with thornbushes to such an extent that its name in Hebrew, Senen, literally means “thornbush”.

We read in the Old Testament that Prophet Moses came to Mount Sinai and saw a bush, which was burning but not consumed by fire, and heard God’s voice that told him to stay away from that bush and take off his shoes. Moses was standing on holy land. And the angel of the Lord appeared unto him in a flame of fire out of the midst of a bush: and he looked, and, behold, the bush burned with fire, and the bush was not consumed. And Moses said, I will now turn aside, and see this great sight, why the bush is not burnt. And when the Lord saw that he turned aside to see, God called unto him out of the midst of the bush, and said, Moses, Moses. And he said, Here am I. (Exodus 3: 2‒4).

Although St. Clement of Alexandria regarded the unburnt bush as an image of Christ, recalling the crown of thorns that Jesus was made to wear, there were many other theologians who viewed the unburnt bush as a symbol of Theotokos who is “always a virgin, before, during and after the birth of Jesus Christ.” It was She who managed to contain the fiery nature of God the Son without being consumed: that was how St. Gregory of Nyssa, St. John Chrysostom, and Blessed Theodoret of Cyrrhus interpreted this passage.

Orthodox worship texts refer to the Mother of God in conjunction with that Old Testament symbol more than once:

You conceived God in your womb through the Holy Spirit, and yet remained unconsumed, O Virgin. The bush unconsumed by the fire clearly foretold you to the lawgiver Moses for you received the Fire that cannot be endured. (Octoechos, Tone 1, Theotokos Hymn on Sunday Matins)

O Virgin, worthy of all praise: Moses, with prophetic eyes, beheld the mystery that was to take place in You, as he saw the bush that burned, yet was not consumed; for, the fire of divinity did not consume Your womb, O Pure One. (Octoechos, Tone 1, Monday Vespers, Theotokos Hymn on Apostikha).

The Unburnt Bush symbolises the innocence of the Mother of God. She was born on earth to regular sinful people like us but remained pure and did not commit a sin nor accept wrongdoings.

People started painting icons of the Mother of God the Unburnt Bush during the first centuries of the Christian era. The image of the Theotokos was placed inside a burning bush. Most often, the image of the Theotokos belonged to Hodegetria (lit., She Who Shows the Way) type. The icon was becoming more complex over time: first, they added two crossed rhombi, a red one and a green or blue one. The red rhombus symbolizes the earth, while the green or blue one symbolizes the heaven. Red also means fire, while green points at the bush, which is burning yet not consumed by fire. Virgin Mary is portrayed with several symbols: a ladder (an Old Testament symbolic representation of the Mother of God, seen by Jacob in a dream) and a house (as the earthly Church). If we look at the rays of the stars that are formed by the intersection of the rhombi, we will see some angels — the rulers of the natural phenomena — in the rays of the first star (the blue one). There are symbols of the four Holy Evangelists as mentioned in the Revelation in the rays of the fiery-red star, namely, an Angel (Matthew), an Eagle (John), an Ox (Luke), and a Lion (Mark). Then there are angels (spirits of wisdom, reason, awe, and piety) and archangels in the two-lobed clouds. There are six archangels, each with his own sign: Michael, a rod; Gabriel, a branch of Annunciation; Raphael, an alabaster vessel; Uriel, a sword of fire, Selaphiel, a censer; Barachiel, a cluster of grapes. There are visions of the prophets in the four corners of the icon: the apparition of the Mother of God of the Sign to Moses in the Burning Bush; the apparition of a Seraph with a burning coal to Prophet Isaiah; the vision of locked gate to Prophet Ezekiel; and the vision of a golden Ladder with Angels to Jacob.

The Unburnt Bush icon is a treasure of symbols. It appeared in Russia thanks to some monks who came from Palestine as pilgrims in 1390. This icon is preserved in the sanctuary of the Holy Annunciation Cathedral of Moscow Kremlin nowadays. It was allegedly painted at the bottom of the rock where Moses had seen the burning bush.

Many miracles happened thanks to people’s prayers to this truly wonderful icon. One of the most widely known miracles was the release of Dmitry Koloshin, who was Tsar Fyodor Alexeyevich’s stable man, from prison. The man was thrown into prison unjustly. He decided not to insist on his innocence; instead, he used the most powerful method: incessant prayer in front of the Unburnt Bush icon. The Mother of God appeared to the Tsar to inform him of his mistake and to demand the liberation of the innocent prisoner. The gratitude of the freed groom was huge: Dmitry Koloshin built a church in honour of the Unburnt Bush icon of the Mother of God in 1680.

The Mother of God rescued people from fire many times, which is referenced in the troparion of this icon: “He hath glorified Her holy icon with many miracles / and gave it to the faithful to heal their illnesses / and to protect them from outbreaks of fire.”

This intricate image encourages us to get over our spiritual ignorance. It reflects the splendour and profundity of the Orthodox faith. The icon of the Mother of God the Unburnt Bush shines like a jewel from the great treasure of the Orthodox faith.

September 17, 2018

St. Elisabeth Convent

What canons are there in the Church? What do they govern? Do canons restrict people’s freedom or do they help people to exercise their freedom? Why do those hair-splitting formalities even exist in the Church? Is it impossible to get saved without them? FOMA Magazine asked Archpriest Demetrius Pashkov, who is a professor in the Department of World and Russian Church History and Canon Law of the Orthodox Saint Tikhon Humanities University, about all these questions.

How do you define church canons and what are they for?

The word ‘canon’ in Greek literally means ‘a rule’ or ‘standard.’ Canons are the generally accepted codes of conduct in the Church. That is why canons are to the Church what laws are to the country.

Generally, it is clear that church canons are necessary. We have to comply with a definite set of rules adopted by a certain community if we want to belong to that community. The Church is no exception. If you become a member of the Church, you’ve got to comply with Her ordinances, the canons.

We can use the following analogy. When we stay in hospital, there are some rules, which we have to comply with whether we like it or not. The hospital rules may initially seem excessive or even absurd until we consider them carefully.

With that said, there must not be any pedantry in the Church. Everyone is different, which is why one’s spiritual father plays a significant role in one’s church life. Aware of the spiritual child’s weak and strong points, the priest can act quite freely within the limits described in the canon law. We should remember that the majority of the canons were adopted long ago, during the first millennium, so there are quite a few canons that cannot be applied nowadays. That is why each priest has a leeway in applying canons to the given situation (which is assumed in the canons, too: priests are expressly granted the right to curtail or prolong penances). It’s crucial when we speak of the difficult and extraordinarily sensitive sphere of pastoral guidance.

Is it possible to get saved without all those formalities?

No, the emphasis here is not on the formalities but on ourselves. Due to the fact that we remain imperfect, lazy, and self-centered even after we’re baptized, we’ve got to adapt to the pious lifestyle that corresponds to our faith.

Of course, our communication with God is not meant to be prescribed. For instance, canons don’t dictate how you should pray at home: how long you pray, whether you light up a vigil lamp or not, whether you look at an icon or close your eyes, whether you sit or stand during prayer. It’s your own business and it depends on what suits you best. However, when a Christian joins other believers, he has to bear in mind that there are many people like him and each of them has their own views, interests, and preferences, and therefore he will hardly do without certain rules that can unite all that motley crowd into a real community.

That is, generally binding regulations—the canons—are necessary to avoid chaos and disorder in the society where each of its members has certain rights and obligations.

Aside from that, the canons serve to maintain the original modus vivendi of the Church, which appeared on the Pentecost Day, so that the Church remains the same in any country, culture, and political regime. The Church is the same always and in all times: in the first century, in the age of Ecumenical Councils, in late Byzantium, in the Tsardom of Muscovy, and now. The canons protect this identity of the Church throughout the centuries.

Did Jesus say anything in the Gospel about the need to follow certain rules?

Yes, He did. There are some norms of Christian life that the Lord specifies in the Gospel. For example, there are canons that regulate the Sacrament of Baptism. It was Jesus Christ who established this rule in the Gospel, “Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit: teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world. Amen.” (Matthew 28:19–20).

It is here that we find the baptismal formula “In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit”, which is uttered by a priest during the Sacrament today. Moreover, this passage says that we have to teach and then baptize, which is where preparatory meetings before baptism originate from. A priest or a catechist must explain to the person who wishes to join the Church the basic tenets of the Christian faith and piety in detail.

In addition, it was our Lord Jesus Christ who established monogamy (See Matthew 19:4-9). It was on the basis of His words that the Church developed its teaching of the Sacrament of Matrimony. However, the Church reduced the rigidity of the Gospel where it says, “Whosoever shall put away his wife, except it be for fornication, and shall marry another, committeth adultery: and whoso marrieth her which is put away doth commit adultery” (Matthew 19:9). The Church condescends to human infirmity and understands that not everyone is able to carry the burden of staying alone. That is why the Church allows to re-marry twice, under certain conditions.

However, there are other canons that aren’t taken directly from the New Testament. The Church is guided by the Holy Spirit and acts as the successor of Christ the Lawmaker, expanding, amending, and revising Her regulations. Again, this activity of the Church and Her legislative actions in general are based on the principles provided by the Holy Savior in the Gospel.

What canons are there? What do they regulate?

There are lots of church canons. They can be divided in several big sections. For instance, there are canons that regulate the management of the Church. There are “disciplinary” canons that regulate the life of the faithful and the ministry of the clergy.

There are dogmatic canons that condemn certain heresies. There are canons that specify the territorial divisions within the Church, e.g., establish the rights of the top bishops—metropolitans and patriarchs—or determine how often councils at various levels must be convened, and so forth.

All the canons were written during the first millennium of the Church history, and some of them are somewhat outdated. Nevertheless, the Church honors these ancient canons and studies them carefully because the unique age of Ecumenical Councils is the model for the future generations.

Even if we don’t act according to those ancient rules directly, we still follow their spirit and basic guidelines to establish revised answers to the challenges of our times.

If you break the law, you will be punished by the court of law. What about Church law? Does it determine any punishments for breaking the canons?

Speaking of regulations that deal with church discipline and piety, the believers who break them are banned from their most essential right, i.e., the union with Christ through the Sacrament of Communion. It is not a punishment in the conventional sense but a therapeutic measure aimed at healing the person’s spiritual illness. However, there is a very important and meaningful caveat: the final decision belongs to the spiritual father or, on a higher level, to the ruling bishop of the diocese. Each case is reviewed on an individual basis and the decisions are made depending on the situation at hand.

Therefore, church canons are more like remedies than laws. Laws are much more formal, and demand a strict separation of the legislative and the executive power.

In this case, the law enforcer (a bishop or a priest) must act like a good doctor. A doctor won’t test new drugs on his patients if the prescribed drugs have already had a positive effect. If the treatment is unsuccessful, though, the doctor tries other remedies until the patient gets well. The patient’s recovery is the end result of successful treatment; likewise, from the point of view of the priest and the bishop, a believer’s sincere repentance must be the end result of his full recovery.

This is precisely why church penances exist: they must attune the individual to repentance and improvement, foster his or her spiritual growth, stimulate the penitent’s change of attitude and remorse so that they could realize that the sin that they’ve committed prevents them from interacting with God and that they have to do something to restore the broken connection.

Do church canons exist in writing? Are there books of canons?

Sure. The Church started putting Her laws in writing in the late 4^th century. It was at that time, soon after the persecution of Christians was over, that an enormous number of canons appeared and had to be systematized and sorted out. That was how first collections of canon law came to be. Some of them were organized chronologically, while others were arranged according to various subjects. There were collections of canon law called nomocanons (from the Greek “nomos”: an Emperor’s decree; and “canon”: a Church law), which appeared in the 6^th century and combined Church canons with Emperors’ decrees related to the Church.

There are the so-called Apostolic Canons. They are not derived directly from the disciples of Jesus Christ and must have received the name due to their special importance and authority. The Apostolic Canons were recorded in Syria in the 4^th century.

The most well-known collection of ancient canons is titled “The Book of Rules”. It contains the so-called Apostolic Canons, the canons adopted by Ecumenical Councils, the canons adopted by several Local Councils, as well as some authoritative legal opinions of the Holy Fathers pertaining to various issues of the Church life.

Does a lay person need to know church regulations?

In my opinion, yes, he does. If one knows church canons, he understands his rights and duties. Moreover, church canons are very helpful in everyday life.

For instance, the life of a newborn baby is in imminent danger and therefore, the baby has to be baptized as soon as possible. Can his or her mother perform the Sacrament and if yes (by the way, yes is the correct answer), how does she do it properly? Or imagine that someone invited you to become their baby’s godparent. What does it mean and what does it entail if you agree? There are plenty of difficult questions related to the Sacrament of Matrimony, too. For example, can an Orthodox Christian marry a heterodox Christian or a non-Christian?

What would you recommend a lay person to read about canon law? Where can one learn about his or her rights and obligations in the Church?

There is an excellent cycle of lectures on canon law by Archpriest Vladislav Tsypin, which has been published several times in the recent years. Speaking of the sources, I’d recommend everyone to study the aforementioned “Book of Rules”. Contemporary laws and regulations of our Local Church (such as its Charter and some other documents) are published on its official website patriarchia.ru. The Publishing House of the Moscow Patriarchate has undertaken the publication of a comprehensive multi-volume collection of decrees and other documents of the Russian Orthodox Church, which started five years ago.

Translated by The Catalog of Good Deeds

A reader wrote that he had begun to discover himself through Buddhist meditation despite 25 years of Orthodox Christian practice. He asked for my perspective. This is what I wrote him.

Dear E,

I don’t know enough about Buddhism or specifically about Buddhist meditation to make any sort of intelligent comment. Neither do I know you personally nor your experience as an Orthodox Christian nor your actual practice of meditation. Therefore, I will only make some very general observations and comments regarding the following question: Why is it that after living many years, perhaps growing up in, a pious Orthodox Christian context, why is it that some people seem to have their spiritual life jumpstarted by an encounter with or by a practice of heterodox Christianity or even non-Christian faith?

I don’t know why it sometimes happens that Orthodox Christians find a practice or perspective in a heterodox Christian or even a non-Christian faith which turns out to be very helpful in moving them forward in virtues that the Orthodox Church values. I know a devout and apparently holy priest who grew up in the Orthodox Church, went off into Evangelicalism in his twenties because he found his own Orthodox faith to be dead. Then in his thirties, he returned to the Orthodox faith with an evangelical zeal for the depth of wisdom, beauty and truth of the faith of his childhood. Why did he have to leave the Church to find the Church? Or, as in your case, E., why do some people have to look outside the Church to find a meditation practice that helps them find themselves?

I wonder if sometimes people (or monasteries or even whole cultures) fixate on certain aspects of the Orthodox faith to the extent that they ignore others. It can happen that while focusing intently on certain important aspects of the Orthodox faith, one can unintentionally be ignoring other equally and perhaps even more important aspects of the faith. It may be that, as Jesus pointed out to the religious leaders of his time, we strain out the gnats and swallow the camels. A person who eats only green, leafy vegetables will most likely find himself weakened or even ill, regardless of how important green, leafy vegetables are to one’s diet. And the irony is that a few people, perhaps with certain health conditions, might thrive on a steady diet of only green, leafy vegetables, while the same diet would weaken and sicken most otherwise healthy people. But seeing these few unique ones thrive, it is assumed by some that everyone should follow their diet, despite the evidence that most people don’t thrive.

I find it interesting that the exact same first-century B.C. Judaism that produced Sts. Zechariah and Elizabeth and their son St. John the Forerunner, and Sts. Joachim and Anna and their daughter the Most Holy Theotokos, that same religion also produced Ananias the hight priest who condemned our Lord Jesus. It was the same religion that produced the scribes and Pharisees whom Jesus condemned. The same. When you look at it this way, categories such as pious or zealous or faithful don’t really have much meaning. Two people can be following the same Orthodox Faith to the letter, and one sees only the letter while the other passes through the letter to the Spirit. One experiences the letter that kills, while the other the Spirit that gives life.

I don’t know why it seems to happen this way. I have been to monasteries where the love and compassion of the brothers toward one another and toward visitors is so overwhelming that the strict fasting and the long vigils seem to be less important, mere means to an end. Yes the strict fasting and long prayers in the night are the same, but somehow they seem less important, or less the thing, in the light of the brothers’ love for God and for one another. Other monasteries seem to be all about the rule, all about doing it right, all about identifying and straining out the non-Orthodox gnat. And all the while, the love part seem hard to find. Sometimes in such a context love is even reduced to obedience, as though the principle, or the rule itself, were what love looks like. I have actually heard people say things very similar to this.

And again, it is a profound irony to me that some people actually seem to thrive in this later rule-emphasizing Orthodox Christian environment. Others do not. I have some parishioners who have actually chided me for being too soft on them in confession, as though I do not take the faith seriously enough for them. I have other parishioners who fall into despair at the hint of a harsh word or tone, but who have responded very well to encouragement. And each priest has his own tendencies, some harsher, some more gentle. A lot depends on the relative discernment (or lack thereof) of the priest along with matters such as his own experience, expectations and personality. Sometime, maybe, an earnest Orthodox Christian believer might not be able to see the truth and tools available in the Orthodox faith because he or she has not met a spiritual father or mother who speaks to them, whom they can hear.

In St. Isaac the Syrian’s 66th homily, in the first section, he traces out the way to “spiritual knowledge,” using imagery of light and sight, seeing and darkness. By spiritual knowledge, I think St. Isaac is referring to the true, knowledge of things as they are, a spiritual knowledge of the world, of oneself, and (at least the beginnings) of God. In the final paragraph of the section he talks of hindrances to this knowledge and points out that “most men are unable to attain to a degree of perfection in spiritual knowledge.” Among these hindrances he lists “being unable to find a teacher and guide” along with “the hindrances of times, places and means.”

Not every spiritual father is appropriate for everyone seeking to grow in their faith and in their spiritual knowledge, very few priests or bishops or monks are suitable guides to everyone. The spiritual exercise that brings salvation to one might create only pride or depression or nothing at all in another. Sometimes we have to keep looking for the right teacher, the right time, the right place, the right means. I read somewhere once that St. Pacomius the Great only accepted a third of the men and women who came to join his monasteries. He would say to two thirds of those who came to him, “Salvation may be possible for you, but not here.” Salvation comes to those who seek and ask and knock. There would be no seeking if the first door one knocked on opened right away.

And so I wonder out loud: is it possible that if one becomes stuck in a particular Orthodox Christian context and is unable to progress there that God might use something from outside the faith to jolt this person to his or her senses, to open her eyes, to break his mental logjam? I don’t know. I do know that I have occasionally been inspired by a novel written by a heterodox Christian or even an atheist. I do know that I have found certain yoga stretches to be helpful—especially after standing for several hours in Church. Does that mean that Hinduism is OK or that atheists should be teaching the Faith? No, not at all. But I think it means that Orthodox Christians are free to use what is useful, to chew up the meat and spit out the bones.

But we must be careful; we must be discerning. We must be careful and discerning about what we might borrow from outside the faith because there is much attached to these foreign practices that we don’t see. We must listen to the wise people in our lives, the saints who have gone before us and those who know us well in this life. We must test everything, St. Paul tells us, and hold on to what is true and good.

Finally there is the chicken and the egg problem. My spiritual father taught me to breathe a certain way when I say the Jesus Prayer (sometimes, not always). Sitting in the doctor’s reception room recently, there was a large screen offering health advice. The advice that the screen offered regarding several mental ailments was to breathe in a way very similar to what my Orthodox spiritual father had recommended. And so, which came first? Did the Church borrow breathing techniques from others, or did others get it from the Church? Or more likely, it’s neither. Human beings are human beings, Orthodox or non-Orthodox, Christian or Buddhist or Hindu or atheist.

And a human being functions better if he or she takes time each day to breathe a certain way and stretches his or her body certain ways. It may have been the Hindus who first developed this stretching into a systematic practice (interwoven with many dangerous—from and Orthodox Christian perspective—Hindu concepts and presuppositions). However, the fact still remains that human bodies can benefit a good deal from systematic stretching of the body muscles. Similarly, certain breathing techniques and mental exercises may be universally helpful for all human beings even though these techniques and exercises were developed most systematically in a non-Christian context.

The Church has been Christianizing aspects of pagan culture from the beginning. However, one must be very careful that he or she is indeed Christianizing. That is, one must attend. The art, architecture, rhetoric and even philosophy of the pagan Greek world was largely Christianized. This Christianizing continues today, but you have to pay attention to what you are doing and thinking. Meditation can, I think, be Christianized. But we must be very careful lest the meditation Buddhistize us, lest the Yoga Hinduize us, rather than we Christianizing the various non-Christian practices.

And here, I submit, that the whole Church is necessary. I alone will most likely be deceived if I attempt to Christianize some pagan practice. So my advice is to proceed slowly and carefully, with as much discernment as you have, being open to rebuke and correction. No one of us has all the gifts, all of the discernment necessary to separate light from darkness.

By Fr. Michael Gillis

Source: https://blogs.ancientfaith.com/prayingintherain/2018/07/response-to-a-question-on-buddhist-meditation/

A child was born in Varnitsa, Russia, to his parents Cyril and Mary. He was their second child, and they named him Bartholomew. Doubtless they had plans for their son, hoping that he would prosper as they had prospered, and live a comfortable life. God, however, had other plans for the boy. Eventually at the age of twenty-four he would be tonsured a monk, and known to the world forever after as Sergius of Radonezh. He is venerated by those in Russia as one of the great founders of Russian monasticism. But what about those of us who live outside Russia? What could St. Sergius mean to us?

St. Sergius is important because his life reveals the power of humility, and humility is the foundation for all spiritual life, whether one lives in Novosibirsk or New York. The story is told of Sergius’ early years living in a quiet hermitage in the forest. After living on his own for three years, his sanctity became known, and men came and settled near him, asking to live under his spiritual direction. Sergius was unwilling to become their abbot, protesting that he was unworthy to wield such authority. The brethren returned once again to importune him, pleading that he become their abbot. “It is not for me to fulfill the angelic ministry,” he replied, “It is for me to weep for my sins.” The men burst into tears, saying, “If you are unwilling to care for our souls, we will have to leave this place, straying like lost sheep, and you will have to answer for it before God.” This was exactly the way to reach Sergius’ tender and humble heart. He relented, saying only, “I would rather obey than command, but dreading God’s judgement, I will leave this matter to the will of the Lord.”

He then had to obtain the blessing of the local bishop to become their abbot, and even here the humble saint tried to find a way out. Accompanied by two of the brethren, he went to visit the local bishop and asked him to give them an abbot, hoping no doubt that he would pick someone else. When the bishop picked him, Sergius again insisted he was unworthy. The bishop replied, “Beloved, you have acquired all the virtues except obedience.” Seeing no way out, Sergius bowed low and accepted ordination to the priesthood and the task of being their abbot. His career in monasticism had begun in earnest, and would continue to grow. There was now no looking back.

Sergius lived and died in the same unshakable humility, and humility is needed now more than ever in this poor and wretched world. Rich and worldly men extend their private empires, grinding the faces of the poor as such men have always done. Nations vaunt themselves, puff themselves up, boast against their neighbours, and wage war against those weaker than themselves, and the earth shudders under them. Even in the Church some men embark on their own careers, and preen themselves, feeding themselves rather than feeding the flock (see Ezekiel 34:1-6), swelling themselves with pride. Now more than ever we need the example of humble Sergius. He was one who knew what true greatness looks like, and who believed the Lord when He said, “Whoever would be great among you must be your servant, and whoever would be first among you must be slave of all” (Mark 10:43-44). No spirituality can exist that is not built upon humility. No real life or joy can come to men unless they first become like little children. St. Sergius knew this, and lit a light in his native Russia. The whole world may be grateful for this, and strive to walk by its light.

By Archpriest Lawrence Farley

Source: http://www.pravmir.com/sergius-russia-saint-seasons/

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