The Word at the Hard Days of the Temple (Archimandrite Sergi)

From the volume II of sermons.

A lot have I thought of in these days and wish now to tell you something. Before the father sets off on a long journey he, if he loves his family, endeavors to arrange everything in it that to set up and secure it the best way. And so do I, - your father, - little by little preparing myself for a long journey, and every day the hour we part comes closer. That hour is always before my eyes and with all my heart have I been striving for it, not in a sense that I want it to come sooner, but realizing the responsibility lying on me as on the father and proceeding from my loving heart. I've been trying to set up the lives of those who in one form or another have been spiritually connected with me in the course of many years. Perhaps my heart has sighed and grieved over every single one of you. But let me turn to the past that you may better understand what I feel.

The twentieth years of our life. Those days on one hand, as you know, there was a God's tribunal over the people who had brought us into destruction both material and spiritual, and on the other, - a new life was being born and in its birth, as in any birth, it went through many hard experiences. If you can see a little flower that breaks through everything and comes out on the surface you can imagine what that little flower has experienced. And when a baby is being born the delivery can often be difficult.

The new life had come into being in very hard circumstances. I was young back then, very young, and I didn't feel sympathy for the world that was passing away. My heart was rather in the new world, but what a world it was I didn't know. Yet, one thing could I see clearly: something dark and gloomy had been going off the face of the earth, and my heart had opened towards whatever good and beautiful our new life might beget. I welcomed that newness with my heart, grieved and suffered when something embarrassed me, for it was a hard time, full of blood-shed and many hard experiences. I felt ready to accept all good and beautiful, but violence was foreign to me. At the same time I realized it was inevitable and therefore walked the narrow path I had chosen. I loved the church even then, I knew Moscow very well, knew almost all Moscow temples, and they were very many in number. And then I realized the people serving in those temples were blind with their ears deaf as well.

Once my late father asked me: "Do you know who brought our country into destruction?" "Who?" "The church", - he said. That was clear to me, for in my child's years I had a very sad idea about the church's life. When I attended Moscow temples I saw completely not what my heart desired. I saw not an aspiration to wash away one's sins with tears, not an understanding of the fact that we brought the country into such a great disaster and troubles, but something terrible, rich, splendorous. I heard blasphemous singing - protodeacons made noise as much as their lungs allowed. In many temples there was archbishops serving. What was it? What was going on? My heart blended despite I was very young.

Then I thought: "All right, those who are in charge there are old, they haven't understood anything and those who stand at the box are also people from the past that must go aside of the church's life. Then, - thought I, - they will go away and new people come in their stead and, our church hierarchy, first of all, will realize the incredibly important task placed upon it." And so I waited and waited and nothing happened. I didn't see the church recover a consciousness worth the teaching of Gospel.

Finally metropolitan Sergi, later patriarch Sergi, after ten years as the change in our life's order had occurred, issued a decree about recognizing the soviet power and praying for it. I remember as I myself and other young people that were close to the church rejoiced it. And back then it was a weight off my mind and I felt gladness to keep a good hope upon the new changes in life in the very depth of my heart. But later I was getting more and more convinced that the patriarch Sergi's decree was not a decree of a new way, but something else, something absolutely unacceptable for the church's consciousness. It was an act of a political character, not gospel's. And everything remained the way it was. I thought the old people would go and the new come, the so-called rich would go and the poor come, for Christ was calling beggars, blind, and lame. I thought they would come... But to my horror, instead of the old thieves the new ones came in their stead who were, I must say it, even worse than the old. What could I do? Where could the souls get saved?

The Lord led me a special way and I am thankful to Him that He visited me with sorrows and through them humbled my pride, opened for me the way I've been going up until this day. I was intending to start my service in the church in 1934, but my spiritual advisor - late bishop Leonid did not bless me. I was a priest back then, or rather a hieromonk, and I continued to live a cell's life trying within my heart to discover a way in those not-easy situations. What did I think of? I thought no one could change anything in the church because all things from the past remained in it only having been turned as an overcoat, which already was not the same as it was. So, what should I've been doing?

And then I came to an idea: it was good to receive somewhere a small parish with a small community and labor in it. Close my eyes to it all. That idea seemed to me quite practicable. I thought there should have been no obstacles for the civil part, for I was directed with all my strengths, with all my heart to help them, honor them as established not without a God's will. I never had anything hidden, secret in my heart. And I thought that the church authorities would also give me an opportunity to serve because I was not going to trouble them and wanted from them nothing. I needed only to be blessed for setting up such a small community.

I was full of hopes that creating such a community I would attract into it people sincerely loving it, loyal to it, and we would be the very best citizens of our country. I was convinced in it, so much convinced that if they gave me a piece of the rye bread I would have been thankful for it as for the very best treatment. That's what my heart was like. I'm loving my homeland, my people all my life, but what can I do if my love is the love of a believer, of a Christian?

I asked for very little - only a small community and nothing else. And, I thought, the church administration would also be pleased that we pray for it and wish it all the best. In any case I asked for so little that they easily could give me a parish. And when after the war in 1947 I arrived in Moscow and came to the Most Holy Patriarch Alexis, - he already knew about me, - he offered me to serve in the Patriarch's cathedral. I was embarrassed. It went completely against my intentions, but after a little bit of elucidation of the issue I said: "The will of God be done". The Patriarch made the sign of the cross, I did too, and so my spiritual serving had been determined.

I have to say that when he offered me to serve in the Cathedral, I was embarrassed and told him I never strove to serve there. But what should I be doing? The Lord gives each his own cross and I carried it. And then, nevertheless, the Lord gradually gave me a small temple and a small parish. The parish was so small that when I began the service we had only about 15 people praying, if I'm not mistaken.

Now I return to the beginning: when the father is setting off on a long journey he is trying to make everything for his beloved the best way. I, although having some opportunities to move, had stayed in this temple. There were many afflictions here, many sicknesses, but little by little the life settled down the way the heart of a person loving the house of God desired. But, unfortunately, the possibilities for such settling down were very limited and horrible is the fact that in our temples dominate people who either don't believe in God or are very far from Him, or absolutely ill-bread in spirit. Therefore the difficulties that needed to be surmounted required great efforts, great moral and physical strengths.

But little by little we were moving forward and I imperceptibly tried to alter some things, put something into our singing. Perhaps there are people to whom it seems crippled, but it is dear to the believing heart. And it the service, as well as in the general order and the grandeur of the temple, everywhere I tried to put into practice the desires that lived in my heart, keeping in mind that if not today then tomorrow the way of my life would end. And in that very time, my dear, absolutely all of a sudden I was heavily stricken. I learned there was a certain small group of bad people, may be very small, but a tiny piece of leaven makes the whole mixing sour. I hoped the parishioners would drive them off as they drive the wolves off the sheep, but that didn't happen. And so there had been committed a disgraceful thing although outside of the temple, but it was a thing that insulted all of our parish and, first of all, myself as the father. I thought we would get stronger and gradually create in our temple the excellent core and walk further the way we had discovered here.

And I tried to get a different place for that bad priest. He was one of those preparing to plunder the spiritual treasure we had here.

And when that man, thank God, had finally gone, instead of having a sigh of relief and being happy that God had removed a good-for-nothing pastor from our flock who could make a great outrage in our temple as he did in other places, instead of all that I felt myself lonely. Do not think, my dear, that I let myself doubt in your honor and love for me, and in your loyalty. No, but I was horrified of how weak we were. What then may happen when the pastor leaves you? I can feel clearly there are bad people near us. And they are as if jackals waiting: "Here father Sergi falls and then we will break into his temple and turn everything the way we want". I felt I was helpless. I see here there is no good, sound core of parishioners that can receive this temple and protect all the holy we, through the grace of God, have created here. I feel those men, or even rather not-men, roam around the temple and, I will repeat it, wait till there is a chance to break in and commit here their ugly things.

... My dear, the psalm "On the Rivers of Babylon" always must we sing, for we have lost our primacy, we have defiled the garments of white that Christ has given us. Tears everywhere around and we have to understand that our tears - they flow because we have trampled the covenant of the Christ's love. May the Lord preserve you.

1969