Metropolitan Anthony of Sourozh (Bloom)

The childhood, wanderings, and youth of Metropolitan Anthony of Sourozh

In the world, before entering monasticism: Andrei Borisovich Bloom, born in Switzerland, in Lausanne.
His maternal grandfather belonged to Russian diplomatic circles; served as consul in various places. My grandfather met Metropolitan Anthony’s future grandmother, a native of Trieste (Italy), while he was there on public service duty. He taught her Russian. After they tied the knot, her grandfather brought her to Russia. Their daughter, Ksenia Nikolaevna Skryabina (sister of the famous composer A. Scriabin), mother of Andrei (Antonia), met her future husband, Boris Eduardovich Bloom, during the holidays, when she went to Erzurum, where her father was serving at that time. Boris Eduardovich worked there as a translator. After a serious feeling arose between them, they got married.

After Andrei was born, his family stayed in Lausanne for about two months, and then moved to Russia, to Moscow. Around 1915-16, in connection with B. Bloom's appointment to the East, the family moved to Persia. The future bishop spent his childhood there. For some time he had a Russian nanny, but mainly his grandmother and mother were involved in his upbringing.

Andrei's childhood fell on a turbulent time. Due to the First World War, revolutionary chaos and political changes in Russia, the family had to face the difficulties of a wandering life. In 1920, Andrei’s mother, he himself and his grandmother left their Persian home, while his father was forced to stay. The difficulties associated with endless travel, sometimes on horseback, sometimes in carts, were superimposed by the dangers of encountering robbers.

In 1921, everyone reached the West together. Having traveled many European roads and ending up in France, the family finally found the opportunity to settle down. This happened in 1923. There were many difficulties associated with the peculiarities of emigrant life. All this was aggravated by unemployment. Her mother's employment was facilitated by her knowledge of foreign languages and her skills as a stenographer.

In France, Andrei had to live separately from his family. The school where he was placed was located outside of Paris, in such a disadvantaged area that, starting in the evening twilight, even the local police did not dare to enter, because “they were slaughtering there.”

At school, Andrei, like many others, had to endure bullying and beatings from students. We can say that at that time the educational school served for him as a school of patience, survival, and courage. Many years later, when one day, while reading on the subway, he got distracted and glanced at the sign with the name of the station, and it turned out that it was the station, not far from which his school had once been located, he fainted from the rush of memories.

It should be noted that both the current difficulties and the forced life away from Russia did not deprive Andrei’s loved ones of love for her. Over time, this love was passed on to him.

Steps. Conversations of Metropolitan Anthony of Sourozh - Metropolitan (Sourozh) Anthony - Page 1

Metropolitan Anthony of Sourozh.

steps

Published with the blessing of His Eminence Ambrose,

Archbishop of Ivanovo and Kineshma

About Christianity

What does it mean to be a Christian? How to remain a Christian in the modern world?

Being a Christian is, in some ways, very simple. A Christian is a disciple and friend of Christ. These concepts are related, but there is a difference between them. On the one hand, we are disciples of Christ, His followers, and we must learn from Him through the Gospel what He believes, what He teaches.

It was not in vain that I used the expression “what He believes.” Once in Moscow, on the steps of the Ukraine Hotel, a young officer asked me a question:

- Fine. You believe in God, and God, what does He believe in?

“God believes in man,” I answered him. This is a very important moment in Christian life: to believe in a person together with God,

starting with myself.
It is not in vain that Christ tells us that we must love
ourselves and our neighbors as ourselves.
To love is to be ready to do everything possible to ensure that any person rejoices
in his life, grows to the full extent of his capabilities and is worthy of his human title. Therefore, the first thing Christ teaches us when we become His disciples is to believe in a person, hope in him, love him even at the cost of our own lives. And this does not necessarily mean dying for it; you can give your whole life for one person or for some group of people without dying for it, in the literal sense of the word, physically. But Christ’s disciples die physically, testifying to their faith in Christ. Sometimes a person must die so that another can breathe freely, come to life, find space in his life, sacrifice himself, forgetting about himself in order to remember about the other person. No one has greater love than the one who is ready to give his life for his neighbor. And life can be long and difficult. When a person does not think about anything related to himself, but only about the opportunity to serve another person and other people, this is the first step.

To be a disciple of Christ means to believe in a person

starting with yourself and continuing with everyone else.
We are convinced that in every person there is light, there is goodness. The light shines in the darkness. Darkness does not always accept this light, but it is not able to drown out or extinguish it. Light has identity, strength, life, while darkness is the absence of all this. In this regard, we are ready to believe in a person.
In addition, in the Gospel we find many indications of how we can exercise our faith in man together with God, how we can, together with God, hope until the last moment of life that even a criminal can grow to the extent of the dignity of his human rank. It happens that a person will live unworthily throughout his entire life, and suddenly, finding himself face to face with the possibility, moreover, with the certainty that he is in danger of death, he will come to his senses and become a completely different person. A person can live as a criminal and die as a righteous man. This is indirectly evidenced by Rev. Seraphim of Sarov. He says that the beginning of life, the years of childhood and the end of life are mostly calm, bright and good, but in the middle of life there is a continuous storm. We must take this into account when we think about ourselves and others.

We often hear: to be a Christian, you must fulfill the commandments of Christ. Certainly! But the commandments of Christ are not orders: one must live this way, live that way; and if you do not live this way, you will be punished. No, the commandments of Christ are His attempt to figuratively show us what each of us would be like if we became and were real,

a worthy person. The commandments of Christ are not a command, they are a revelation of what we are called to be, can be, and therefore should be.

I also mentioned that we should not only be disciples of Christ, but also His friends.

It happens that a child of seven or eight years old comes to me for confession, or rather, a child of seven or eight years old comes to confession for the first time. In confession, he lists a whole series of sins. I listen and then usually ask him:

– Tell me: is it you who feel guilty or are you repeating to me what your parents reproach you for?

- No. It was my mother who told me that I should confess this or that, because it makes her angry, and with this I disturb the peace of home life.

- Now forget it. This is not what we are talking about. You didn't come to tell me what your mother or your father is angry about. Tell me this: do you know anything about Christ?

- Yes.

-Have you read the Gospel?

- My mother and grandmother told me, and I read something, and I heard it in church...

– Tell me: do you like Christ as a person?

- Yes.

– Would you like to make friends with him?

- Oh yeah.

– And do you know what it means to be a friend?

- Yes. This means: to be a friend.

- No, that's not enough. A friend is a person who is faithful to his friend in all circumstances of life; who is ready to do everything so as not to disappoint him, not to deceive him, to remain with him if everyone else turns away from him. A friend is a person who is faithful to his friend to the end. Just imagine: you are at school. If Christ were a simple boy and the whole class turned on Him, what would you do? Would you have enough loyalty and courage to stand next to Him and say: if you want to beat Him, beat me too, because I am with Him? If you are ready to be such a friend, then you can say: yes, I am a friend of Christ: and already pose questions for your confession. Read the Gospel! You can learn from it how you can live without being disappointed in yourself; how can you live so that He would be happy for you, seeing what kind of person you are, what kind of person you have become, for the sake of this friendship. Do you understand this?

- Yes.

– Are you ready to do this?

- Yes…

The whole Christian life consists in being a faithful friend of Christ and constantly learning what He loves, what is disgusting to Him,

what led to His death, and behave accordingly.
In the early centuries of Christianity, to be a friend of Christ, to be faithful to Him, to be devoted to Him meant being ready in the face of people who hated Him, persecutors of the faith that He professed, to say: “I am one of them.”
If necessary, suffer for Him. And not only to suffer yourself. In ancient times, it was considered an honor to suffer for Christ; it was considered the most wonderful thing that could happen in life. There is a very touching story in the lives of the saints about one mother. She rushes to the Colosseum in Rome and meets her friend, who tells her:

-Where are you running? Christians are tortured there.

“Yes,” she says, “and I want to die with them.”

- Why are you dragging your little boy there?

- What about it? Am I really depriving him of the joy of dying for Christ?

In our time, we are not threatened with death or danger on such a scale and so constantly. But before us is always

The question is raised: are you with Christ or against Him? If you are ready to lie even in the smallest things, are ready to deceive out of cowardice, for the sake of profit, you are not a disciple of Christ. If you are ready to forget the need of another person because it is not profitable for you and it requires effort from you that you are not ready to give, you are not a disciple of Christ. Being a disciple of Christ does not at all mean the need to perform heroic deeds all the time. It is enough to heroically perform small acts of kindness day after day; have pure thoughts that would be worthy of the love that God has for you; to have the rightness of life as much as possible, even with danger, even at risk: not to be ashamed of your calling as a Christian.

To be a disciple of Christ is to be ready to say before people:

- Yes, I am Christ’s. Do you want to reject me? Reject. But I will not leave Christ just to remain your friend.

First steps on the path of Christian, monastic and pastoral life

For a long time, Andrei’s attitude towards the Church, as he later noted, was more than indifferent. One of the immediate reasons for serious hostility was his experience of communication with Catholics. When, due to a lack of means of subsistence, the mother decided to take advantage of their offer of a scholarship for Russian children and brought Andrei to them for a “bride,” he went through an interview and received an affirmative answer, but here he was given a strict condition: he must convert to Catholicism . Considering this condition as an attempt to buy and sell, Andrei was indignant and expressed a strong protest that was not childish. At that time he did not yet understand the essential difference between the Western and Eastern Churches and, as a result, extended his indignation to the “Church in general.”

Andrei's conversion to Christ occurred only at the age of 14. One day he witnessed the sermon of Father Sergius Bulgakov. The sermon shook him up, but he was in no hurry to trust the preacher and upon returning home he asked his mother for the Gospel in order to confirm his mistrust and be convinced that he was right. However, the opposite happened: a careful, thoughtful reading of Scripture changed his attitude towards faith.

Gradually, Andrei became involved in Christian work and fervent prayer. In 1931, having received a pastoral blessing, he began to serve in the church at the Three Hierarchs' Compound (the only church in Paris at that time that belonged to the Moscow Patriarchate). It should be noted that from that time on Andrei did not violate fidelity and did not break canonical communion with the Russian Patriarchal Church.

After graduating from school, he entered the natural sciences and then the medical faculty of the Sorbonne. Student life did not prevent him from making plans to connect his life with monastic feat. He graduated from the Sorbonne in 1939, just before the war, and soon went to the front as a surgeon. But first he took monastic vows, which were accepted by his confessor, although he was not tonsured due to lack of time. He was tonsured as a monk only in 1943. Actually, it was then that he received the name Anthony.

During the occupation, Anthony participated in the French Resistance, then again ended up in the army, healing the wounded and sick. After demobilization, he found his mother and grandmother and brought them to Paris.

It is noteworthy that while carrying out medical activities, Anthony did not forget about the need for living sympathy and compassion for his patients, which, unfortunately, he could not say about some of the doctors he personally knew, hardened by the horrors of war. It is worthy of note that empathy and sensitivity to man, the ability to see in him not just a citizen, but a neighbor, the desire to contemplate in him the image and likeness of the Creator, contributed to Father Anthony throughout his pastoral activity.

In 1948, he was ordained a hierodeacon, and soon after he was ordained a hieromonk, after which he accepted spiritual leadership over the members of the Orthodox Anglican Fellowship of St. Albanius and St. Sergius. As Metropolitan Anthony himself later recalled, this turn in fate was facilitated by a meeting with Archimandrite Leo (Gillet), which took place at the Orthodox Anglican Congress. Then, having talked with Anthony, the archimandrite advised him to leave the profession of a doctor, become a priest and continue serving God in England.

Since 1950, Father Anthony served as rector of the Church of the Holy Apostle Philip and St. Sergius in London. In 1953 he was ordained to the rank of abbot, and in 1956 to the rank of archimandrite. A little later, he accepted the position of rector of the Church of the Assumption of the Mother of God and All Saints in London.

In 1957, Father Anthony was installed as Bishop of Sergievsky. In 1962, he was consecrated to the rank of archbishop for the newly established Sourozh diocese in the British Isles. From 1966, upon his elevation to the rank of metropolitan, and until 1974, Anthony of Sourozh served as Patriarchal Exarch in Western Europe, after which he was released from this position at his own request. Meanwhile, he continued to minister to his flock. It should be noted that during the period of his leadership, a clearly organized structure of parishes was formed in the diocese, with well-established educational work.

By that time, Metropolitan Anthony had earned well-deserved respect among Christians around the world and his ardent preaching was spreading everywhere: through numerous lectures and publications, translated into all kinds of languages; through radio and television.

In 1983, the Council of the Moscow Theological Academy awarded Metropolitan Anthony the degree of Doctor of Theology for a body of pastoral and theological works. In addition, at different times he was awarded the title of honorary doctor of Aberdeen (1973) and Cambridge (1996) universities, and the Kyiv Theological Academy (2000).

In the last months of his life, due to deteriorating health, Vladyka served rarely and appeared in public less often. He died on August 4, 2003. And on August 13, 2003, in the Cathedral of the Assumption of the Mother of God and All Saints in London, his funeral service took place. The funeral service was performed by Metropolitan Philaret of Minsk and Slutsk.

Anthony (Bloom),

Metropolitan Anthony of Sourozh (Bloom) is an outstanding church figure, preacher, missionary, philosopher, bishop of the Russian Orthodox Church.

Vladyka was born in 1914 in the family of the hereditary Russian diplomat Boris Eduardovich Bloom (1882-1937) and Ksenia Nikolaevna Scriabin (1889-1952), the sister of the great composer Alexander Scriabin. Soon the family moved to Persia, where they lived for several years. After the revolution of 1917, the Bloom family was forced to emigrate from Russia; they changed many countries, looking for shelter. Finally, in 1923, they settled in Paris.

The future Metropolitan Anthony of Sourozh came to God in a completely unique and amazing way. At the age of 14, he heard a sermon by Father Sergius Bulgakov, expressing his point of view on Christianity. The teenager fundamentally disagreed with him. And I decided to read the primary source of knowledge about the Lord - the Gospel. To begin with, he chose the shortest one - the Gospel of Mark and began to read. As he read, he realized that God was here, next to him.

A little should be said about life in France. Anthony Sourozhsky’s mother could not find a job for a long time; finally, she managed to get a job thanks to her knowledge of foreign languages and shorthand skills. He himself was forced to live away from his family, in a school that was located on the outskirts of Paris. There the boy suffered terrible bullying from his peers, he was beaten and tortured in every possible way. It was a huge school of courage, patience, love for people. Anthony also loved his homeland - Russia.

In 1931, he began serving in the only church in Paris that belonged to the Moscow Patriarchate - the Three Saints Metochion. In 1939, Vladyka graduated from the Faculty of Science and Medicine at the Sorbonne and went to the front as a surgeon. Participates in the French Resistance, works as a doctor in the anti-fascist underground. In 1939, he was tonsured a monk with the name Anthony in honor of St. Anthony of Kiev-Pechersk. After the war he was ordained a hieromonk. Acts as rector of the Church of the Holy Apostle Philip and St. Sergius in London. In 1954 he was elevated to the rank of abbot, and two years later to the rank of archimandrite. In the same year, he accepted the position of rector of the Church of the Dormition of the Mother of God and All Saints in London, where he served until his death. In 1957, she was ordained Bishop of Sergievsky, and five years later she was ordained Archbishop of the Sourozh diocese, which was newly formed in the British Isles. In 1966 he was elevated to the rank of metropolitan. From that time until 1974, Metropolitan Anthony of Sourozh served as Patriarchal Exarch in Western Europe.

Vladyka Anthony of Sourozh had the gift of speech from God. His sermons became the basis of the metropolitan’s spiritual heritage. It all started with the fact that he read his first sermon from a piece of paper, knowing little English. It didn’t turn out very well, it was meager, uninteresting, and they didn’t really listen to him. Then he was given advice to speak in his own words. And it so happened that the shepherd’s Word began to spread not only within the Sourozh diocese, but also abroad. The lectures and conversations of Metropolitan Anthony of Sourozh were and are very much loved in Russia. He repeatedly came to Russia with his performances. The Vladyka’s sermons brought many people to God; they show all the splendor of Orthodoxy, its truth and beauty.

In addition, very often in his conversations the Bishop does not speak on abstract topics, but answers specific questions from his parishioners, the listeners of his sermons. This is seen as why people loved and listened to Metropolitan Anthony of Sourozh. Every word in his sermons was deeply thought out and suffered.

Here are just a few of the Lord’s statements:

“Only he can teach and lead others who is himself a student and novice.”

“When you are praised, you do two things. First: remember why you are praised, and try to become one. And secondly, never try to dissuade people, because the more you dissuade, the more people will see in you humility, which you don’t have at all...”

“Ask yourself the question of how the Gospel judges you. The Gospel does not condemn me, it calls me to eternal life. How do I answer this call to the eternal life of the gospel, and what prevents me from answering it?

“Sin kills. He kills our soul, making it insensitive and callous, he kills our relationship with God and with people; he kills our conscience and life in others, he kills Christ on the Cross.”

“It’s not only difficult to die, it’s difficult to live. Sometimes living is more difficult than dying, because it means dying day after day. Sometimes it’s easier to die at once.”

Vladyka died in 2003 in London and was laid to rest in the Brompton Memorial Cemetery.

See also: Sermons, Instructions, Spiritual growth

General directions of preaching and scientific and theological works of Metropolitan Anthony of Sourozh

Despite the existence of a large number of works published under the authorship of Metropolitan Anthony, many of these works do not actually represent the fruit of his writing. Most of the published works are reproductions of recordings of oral sermons and conversations delivered under different circumstances, in different audiences (see: Proceedings. Volume I; Proceedings. Volume II).

The Metropolitan did not always devote his speeches to a predetermined topic. Quite often, the subjects of his sermons were issues that interested specific listeners in a specific situation, at a specific moment. And these were the most diverse questions. This is partly what explains the wide range of topics covered by his teachings.

The general characteristics of the Metropolitan’s instructions are marked by several pronounced features. Firstly, a significant part of his works is written in clear and accessible language, and can be perceived directly by a wide range of people. Secondly, the theological context of the “works” is presented in close unity with spiritual and moral exhortations. Thirdly, many of his works are aimed not only at strengthening man’s faith in God, but also man’s faith in himself, as in the image and likeness of God (see: Man). Fourthly, much attention is paid to explaining the meaning and necessity of liturgical life (see: In the house of God). Finally, the idea about the meaning and mission of the Church is revealed to him in such a way that every listener, every reader sees in the Church not just a Assembly of believers, but also sees himself, realizes his personal role.

Read online “Learn to Pray”

Metropolitan Anthony of Sourozh.

Learn to pray

With the blessing of His Holiness Patriarch of Moscow and All Russia ALEXIY II

From the publisher

The reader is offered a translation of Metropolitan Anthony’s book, “Learn to Pray!”, approved by the author. . "(School for Prauer). The translation was first published in the “Parish List” of the Assumption Cathedral in London in 1995-1996. The Russian reader could encounter this text in a “samizdat” translation, unfortunately far from perfect, called “School of Prayer.” The text was first published in English in 1970, has been reprinted several times in the UK and translated into dozens of languages. With the exception of some author's insertions, the chapters of the book correspond to the conversations that Bishop Anthony conducted during the week in Oxford from the steps of one of the university buildings. Here is what the Bishop himself tells about how the conversations that later formed the book arose:

... I was asked to preach on the streets of Oxford and was placed on the steps of the library, a small circle of people gathered, which then began to grow and grow. The time was - the end of January, the cold was, let's say elegantly, dog-like, the wind was blowing. And the people, being English, since they had not been introduced to each other, stood about a meter apart from each other, so that the wind blew around each one, and they froze one by one. I looked at them and decided to wait for the time to come; At first they were pink, then they began to turn blue. And when they were already well blue, I told them: “You know, here you are standing at such a distance from each other; if you stood close together, you could exchange animal heat. Although you don’t know each other, the warmth would still act.” They stood united; Some time passed, the front ones had already turned pink and looked cozy, and those in the back, on which the wind was blowing, began to completely freeze. I say: “Now you have learned, in a short time, to exchange animal heat; what if we learned to exchange Christian warmth? Those in front, learn to go back and warm the backs of those who are freezing; stand close behind them, so that your warmth transfers to them, and breathe your warmth into their backs.” And for one week, every morning, this is what happened: people came, stood close together, then the front rows moved back and warmed the others... These sermons of ours happened like this: I spoke for about an hour, then answered questions for an hour and a half, so everyone could freeze, and I, in particular, was freezing, because I stood apart - but in a short time, in a week, people learned to exchange both animal and human warmth...

When there is no God

When starting conversations for beginners on the path of prayer, I want to make it very clear that I do not set out to academically explain or justify why we need to learn prayer; in these conversations I want to point out what anyone who wants to pray know and what he can do Since I am a beginner myself, I will assume that you are also beginners and we will try to start together. I am not addressing those who strive for mystical prayer or the highest levels of perfection - “prayer itself will pave the way” to them (St. Theophan the Recluse).

When God breaks through to us or we break through to God under some exceptional circumstances, when everyday life suddenly opens up before us with a depth that we have never noticed before, when in ourselves we discover the depth where prayer lives and from where it can fill the key - then there are no problems.

.
When we experience God, we stand face to face with Him, we worship Him, we talk to Him. Therefore, one of the very important initial problems is the situation of a person when it seems to him that God is absent, and this is where I want to dwell now. This is not about some objective absence of God - God is never really absent - but about the feeling of absence that we have; we stand before God and shout into the empty sky, from where there is no answer; we turn in all directions - and there is no . How to deal with this ?
First of all, it is very important to remember that prayer is a meeting, it is a relationship, and a deep relationship into which neither we nor God can be forced. And the fact that God can make His presence obvious to us or leave us with a sense of His absence is already part of this living, real relationship. If it were possible to call God to a meeting mechanically, so to speak, to force Him to a meeting only because we have appointed this very moment for a meeting with Him, then there would be neither a meeting nor a relationship. So you can encounter fiction, a far-fetched image, various idols that you can put in front of you instead of God; but this cannot be done in relation to or in a relationship with the Living God, just as it is impossible in a relationship with a living person. Relationships should begin and develop in mutual freedom. If we are fair and look at these relationships as mutual, then it is clear that God has much more reason to be sad with us than we have reason to complain about Him. We complain that He does not make His presence evident in the few minutes we give Him throughout the day; but what can we say about the remaining twenty-three and a half hours, when God can knock on our door as much as He wants, and we answer: “Sorry, I’m busy,” or we don’t answer at all, because we don’t even hear Him knocking on our door? heart, our mind, our consciousness or conscience, our life. So: we have no right to complain about the absence of God, because we ourselves are absent much more.

The second important circumstance is that meeting face to face with God is always a judgment for us. Having met God, whether in prayer, in contemplation or in contemplation, we can only be either justified or condemned in this meeting. I do not want to say that at this moment a sentence of final condemnation or eternal salvation is pronounced over us, but a meeting with God is always a critical moment, a crisis. “Crisis” is a Greek word and it means “judgment.” Meeting God face to face in prayer is a critical moment, and thank God that He does not always reveal Himself to us when we irresponsibly, carelessly seek a meeting with Him, because such a meeting may be beyond our strength. Remember how many times the Holy Scripture says that it is dangerous to come face to face with God, because God is power, God is truth, God is purity. And so, when we do not feel or experience God’s presence tangibly, our first movement should be gratitude. God is merciful; He does not come before the time; He gives us the opportunity to look back at ourselves, understand, and not seek His presence when it would be our judgment and condemnation.

I'll give you an example. Many years ago a man came to me and began to ask: “Show me God!” I said that I could not do this, and added that even if I could, he would not have seen God...

Text of the book “Pastoration”

Metropolitan Anthony of Sourozh Shepherding

Recommended for publication by the Publishing Council of the Russian Orthodox Church IS 11-115-1650
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“Give us some of your oil”

And I will give you shepherds after My heart, who will shepherd you with knowledge and prudence.
(Jer. 3:15)

Our Lord Jesus Christ asked the Apostle Peter three times: Do you love Me?

– and heard an affirmative answer three times. I am reminded of this gospel story (John 21: 15-17) because both this book and this introductory word are about shepherding and the shepherd. And I would like to draw attention to what different intonations are heard in the formulation of the Savior’s question about pastoral dignity, each time revealing a new semantic facet in it:

Do you love Me more than they?

- that is, more than all other followers.

Do you love me?

– in other words,
love that
motivates you in relation to Me or something else?

Do you love me?

- it’s
you
and no one else...

And only under the condition of affirmative answers coming from such depths of the heart that are unknown to the apostle himself, but not hidden from God: Lord! You know everything; You know I love you,

– The Savior pronounces His blessing:
Feed My sheep
.

Throughout his life, His Eminence Anthony, Metropolitan of Sourozh, answered in the affirmative the Lord’s question about his readiness to take on the pastoral burden and to bear it until his last breath.

Vladyka Anthony learned to be a shepherd every minute throughout his long and difficult life. It seems to me that with all the invaluable experience of a zealous clergyman, a wise bishop, a virtuous monk, an attentive confessor, a soulful preacher and a tireless missionary, as the Orthodox world knows him, Vladyka himself would never admit that he is an outstanding shepherd of our time. And the point is not only in his modesty: he understood shepherding as a state that should be maintained constantly, without sleep or rest, without conditions and without interruptions.

The Sourozh archpastor left an invaluable legacy to the Church. A witness to the life and spiritual leader of the Russian diaspora in North-Western Europe, he led a generation of emigrants from Tsarist Russia on the journey of the whole earth and introduced into the temple of God those who were born and raised in post-revolutionary Russia, eventually leaving it, as well as those who today he freely chooses where else to live, except at home in his Fatherland... The good shepherd, he created the Sourozh diocese, by the power of his personal example, revealing the wealth of Orthodoxy both to the sons and daughters of Albion, and to his compatriots who found themselves outside the Motherland.

The spiritual treasure collected by Metropolitan Anthony was not hidden after his death: it continues to live and bear fruit abundantly, bringing readers of books and listeners of conversations of the unforgettable preacher to Christ.

The joy of life with Christ became a distinctive feature of Vladika Anthony’s pastoral preaching. With special power of conviction, He teaches us to accept with the eyes of our hearts wide open the Light of Christ, which does not blind, but enlightens everyone.

It is no secret that today many of the neophytes stop after taking only the first steps in the field of faith, and then freeze, withdrawing into their self-sufficiency, and sometimes become a source of rumors, superstitions and all kinds of divisions. How stuffy and gloomy in their interpretation are such states of the Christian heart as humility and fasting, obedience and repentance! But the danger of their influence on others is great, for in this stuffiness fanaticism is born, creating the ground for sectarian and schismatic sentiments.

Read the books of Metropolitan Anthony, venerable fathers, beloved brothers and sisters! With his archpastoral love and insightful wisdom, he heals our spiritual wounds and clarifies our spiritual vision, strengthens our personal faith and teaches us to protect it like a tender sprout.

The present book on shepherding is invaluable for those who are embarking on the path of the priesthood or are already going through this difficult way of the cross, needing, like all people, spiritual advice and strengthening.

The truly unforgettable Vladyka Anthony belongs to the host of those to whose legacy the tired and despairing, thirsty for truth and consolation, the suffering and weak heart of man will never cease to turn with the words: Give us of your oil, as our lamps go out

(Matthew 25:8).

His self-sacrifice during his lifetime strengthens his confidence in obtaining the oil of gladness.

in the words and deeds of the blessed Saint of Sourozh.
Once, while still a young shepherd, he cried out to the Lord, praying for one of his parishioners: ... We are before You, Lord, as one;
either save us together, or reject us together! Immeasurably great love for man was and remains his most important quality as a Christian and shepherd of God. Without love for God, it could not have manifested itself to the extent that Vladyka Anthony showed. And therefore I would very much like the spiritual followers of the deceased archpastor, praying for his repose in the bosom of Christ, to be able to repeat with honor the words of the Master: We are before You, Lord, as one!

FILARET, Metropolitan of Minsk and Slutsk, Patriarchal Exarch of All Belarus

About shepherding[1]1 Report at the Moscow Theological Academy on December 25, 1973 First publication: Anthony, Metropolitan of Sourozh. Sermons and conversations. Paris, 1976 (no questions answered).

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About shepherding

Needless to say, what a joy it is for me to be again within the walls of the Trinity Lavra and to be at the Theological Academy.

I always hesitate what to say and about what; As some of you know, I have no theological education, and speaking on theological topics among the students and teachers of the Academy is always somewhat scary. Therefore, I try to choose topics that I can talk about from life experience: about what I had to experience, what I had to hear from people who experienced a lot, what I happened to read.

And today I want to tell you about shepherding. This topic constantly causes exciting thoughts in every priest, every bishop; should cause thought and excitement in every Christian, since in some respect, regardless of whether he holds the priesthood or not, every Christian is sent into the world to be a preacher of Christ, a witness of eternal life, a guide for others to the Kingdom of Heaven. Therefore, what I have to say applies, of course, primarily to the priesthood, but also applies to the royal priesthood

all believers.

When we talk about shepherding, the word itself sounds theological to us; and in this regard, in the culture of cities, large states, in the culture of industry, it has lost that liveliness, that freshness that it had in the Old and New Testaments, when it was pronounced among the fields, among another culture. And I would like to say a few words about this, because the word itself was born from the living relationship between the shepherd and his flock, that is, simply, the shepherd with those domestic animals with whom he communicated.

The first thing that strikes you in the Gospel when you read Christ’s story about the lost sheep is tenderness, this care. If any of you lived in a village or read and thought about the life of early times, you can imagine: moving herds, people who not only fed from them, but who lived with them. Remember, for example, the story in the Book of Kings about how David sinned with Bathsheba and Nathan told him a parable. There was a rich man who had everything: property and herds; and a friend came to him, for whom he wanted to establish a feast. But he felt sorry for his sheep, his lambs, sorry for his well-fed calf

, and he ordered the poor neighbor, who only had one lamb, to take this lamb away and put it up for dinner for the visiting guest. The story says that this sheep was for his neighbor, a poor, lonely man, like his own daughter, like a child in the house. And this relationship between the shepherd and the lamb, between the owner and his flock, of course, we can only grasp with our imagination.

We can also only grasp, if we imagine this relationship, the meaning of the Old Testament sacrifice. Here is a man taking care of his sheep. Among the sheep, a lamb is born especially beautiful, pure, without blemish; The shepherd will look after this lamb, feed it, look after it, take care of it. And suddenly a command from God to him: to choose from the flock the immaculate, perfect, most beautiful lamb and kill it, shed its blood - why? Because he, man, is sinful. For us these pictures of the Old Testament are strange; but for the shepherd this clearly, clearly spoke of this: because I sinned, an innocent creature, the most beautiful, the purest, the most defenseless, on whom I placed my care, which I tried to protect, to protect with love, sacrificial force against any danger - must die. This suggests that the sin of one is always torment and destruction for the innocent, and for the most beautiful, for the most dear.

And you will understand then why, when we read Christ’s parable about the lost sheep, it deeply touches us, although we are so far from these images and from this life. One feels that this sheep, which simply moved away from the flock and left, went to other pastures, to a tasty piece of land, forgot the other sheep, forgot the shepherd - one feels that the shepherd cannot forget her! The point here is not about a loss, but about the fact that this sheep is dear to him, it was born in his house, fed by his labors, protected from the wolf - and then left, unhappy.

This is what happens in the human family. I remember one family in particular: a girl was seduced by a young man, disappeared, and then, a day or two later, news of this came to the house. The family was sitting; Father was silent for a long time, then stood up, put on his coat, pulled down his hat and said: “I’m going to look for her.” And he left for two years to search. The family was struggling, the family lived in the hope that the father would return with the girl. And he moved from city to city, from place to place, from craft to trade, lived as best he could, and finally found it abandoned; She was ashamed to return. He took her and brought her back. This is perhaps a more accessible picture of shepherding, of how the ancient shepherd, the shepherd, treated his sheep. The words “lamb,” “kid,” “sheep,” “heifer,” which say almost nothing to us in our culture, were such warm, such living words of affection, love, and mutual relationships.

When you read further into the Gospel, you find more passages, like the one that is read on the eve of holy days, an excerpt from the Gospel of John: I am the Good Shepherd; The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep, but the hireling flees because he is a hireling and does not care about the sheep.

(John 10:11–12).
And further: I know Mine, and Mine know Me
(v. 14). These places speak specifically about a deep, subtle, sensitive, loving relationship. The shepherd goes ahead of his flock to be the first to meet danger: a thief, a robber, a wolf, a predatory beast, a flooded river. Whatever they have to face, he goes ahead, he must be the first to face this danger.

And here another feature of shepherding comes to light. It contains not only affection, tenderness, the consciousness that there is nothing more valuable than this sheep, and that when it leaves, it is not a loss for the shepherd, but an irreparable grief. The second feature is active, courageous love, protection, intercession, what in Russian antiquity was called “sorrow”: the duty of the shepherd to stand before the authorities, before the oppressor, before the one who can destroy the life, honor, soul of a person, and say: “ No! It is forbidden! Have pity, you also have a conscience, death will also come to you, judgment will also face you.”

If you read into various passages of the Old and New Testaments, you will, of course, find much more instructions than I am now giving. I want to note only some of the basic properties of a shepherd, without which there is no shepherding: shepherding is not a craft, not a technique, not leadership, not power, but rather a gentle, sacrificial service. Shepherding knows no day and night; There is no such moment when a person does not have the right to suffer, does not have the right to be in need, because the time has come for the shepherd to rest or he is busy with himself. There is no such time! Because if my flock is my family, if they were born around me, if they are my children, then how can I tell my family: “You suffer, and when I have time, I will take care of you.” There is also no time when pastoral prayer can cease. You cannot say to a person: “You have been sick for so long, I remember you less and less, I am tired of your illness, of your grief, of your imprisonment, of the fact that everything is not going well for you and is not going well.” Is this possible, is this how we treat our sister, our mother, our father, our brother, our fiancée? No not like this!

This is the true measure of shepherding: tender, deep, thoughtful, blood relationship; and it is blood in fact, because we are truly one family and one body, this is not only a theological statement. If this is not so, then in general everything we say about baptism, which makes us living members of the living body of Christ, is a lie; if this is not so, then what we say about communion of the Holy Mysteries, about communion with the Body and Blood of Christ, which makes us consubstantial, consanguineous with Christ, is a lie. And if it’s not a lie, then you need to draw direct, sometimes merciless conclusions for yourself: every person is my brother, sister; he is so dear to God that God gave His only begotten Son for him; He is so dear to Christ that the Savior gave His entire life and His entire death so that this man, whom I do not like as a human being, would live, be resurrected, enter the Kingdom of Heaven, and become my brother. This is real, and this is what shepherding is about.

At the heart of shepherding, however, there is something even more. There is one Shepherd, the great Shepherd of the sheep

(Heb. 13:20): Our Lord Jesus Christ. He is the Shepherd par excellence, He is the One Shepherd of all creation and, God willing, He will shepherd everyone into the Kingdom of Heaven. And we are shepherded by His grace; we stand in the place where no creature, no man, even the most holy, dares to stand; Only the Lord God can stand there. Only He who made a bloody sacrifice in His body and surrendered His spirit to God for our salvation can offer a bloodless sacrifice.

How easily we enter the altar, forgetting that the altar is the place that actually, personally belongs to God; that you cannot enter there except with the consciousness of horror, that you are entering God’s lot, that no one dares to stand in this place. The Holy Spirit blows there; there is a place where only Christ can walk with His feet. We would have to enter the altar only to perform service there, in horror, in awe, in the consciousness that only Divine grace, like the hand of God that lay on Moses when the glory of the Lord on Sinai passed before him, can us to protect us from being destroyed by the Divine fire, like the fire that came down from heaven to sacrifice Elijah. This is how we should stand at the altar and enter the altar.

What can we say about the sacrifice itself, about the service itself? The only High Priest of the Church of Christ is the Lord Jesus Christ; the only power that works miracles in the sacraments and various Divine actions is the power of God, the power of the Lord Almighty Holy Spirit. At the beginning of the Liturgy, when everything is ready for the celebration of the sacrament, when the people have gathered, the priesthood is in vestments, when the bread and wine are prepared on the altar, the deacon says the words that so easily pass by us: It is time for the Lord to do: Master, bless.

And we perceive this simply as a reminder to the priest: now, they say, start the service. I asked old monks on Mount Athos how they read the meaning of these words in the Greek original. They do not understand them at all, that “now is the time to perform service for God.” Shifting the emphasis from one word to another, the emphasis is not grammatical, but the emphasis is pronunciation, they interpret this phrase as follows: “And now the time has come for God to act.” We did everything that is humanly possible for us: we came, formed a living church council, put on vestments, offered personal prayer and repentance to God, stood with fear and trembling before the face of God, prepared bread and wine; what more can we do? Is it possible that by some priestly or bishop’s power we can turn this bread into the Body of Christ, this wine into the Blood of Christ? Only the Lord can do this. Now the priest and the deacon will pronounce sacred words that surpass them, surpass the entire human Church, which can be pronounced in the church and by the Church only because the Church is not just a human society, let it be a believer, let it be devoted to God, let it be obedient to him, but The theanthropic body, equally Divine and equally human, where the Holy Trinity dwells in its entirety in unity with the creation reconciled with God, where the Divinity in Christ in the flesh dwells among us in its entirety (Col. 2:9). The Church is full and alive with the Holy Spirit, and our life with Christ is hidden in God (Col. 3:3). This is why we can speak these sacred words that are beyond anything that man can do or think. And all the same: our words will be and our actions will be, without these words and these actions nothing will be accomplished - and yet, the Lord Jesus Christ, the One and Only High Priest and Shepherd of the Church, remains the Performer of the sacrament, the power of the Holy Spirit Who fills the Church.

And this church society is strange; It is not in vain that we say: I believe in the One Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church...

Apparently it’s all of us; invisibly - we are in a deep, close relationship with God; brothers and sisters of Christ according to the flesh; brothers and sisters of Christ through the mysterious communion of His human resurrected nature through the Sacrament of baptism and communion, through the reception of the Holy Spirit in confirmation. We are an eschatological society, that is, a society where at the same time, incomprehensibly, but experientially, the future age is already present within this age, the end has already come. Because the end is not some moment in time, but completeness; and fullness came through the Incarnation and the gift of the Holy Spirit. The end has come, and yet we await the end; within the limits of time the secret of eternal life already operates. And someday it will open up, and the secret of eternal life will capture everything, even time. One of the Western Russian theologians said that the Chalcedonian dogma refers not only to the Incarnation, to the union of the Divine and human nature in Christ. The very time after the Incarnation and the gift of the Holy Spirit has a Chalcedonian quality, as it were, a combination of the eternal, already come future age and our temporary existence and formation.

This is what the Church knows. And when we appeal to the Holy Spirit in epiclesis, when we turn to Him and cry: Lord, Who sent down Thy Most Holy Spirit to Thy Apostles at the third hour, do not take Him away from us, O Good One, but renew us who pray, -

we ask the Holy Spirit, whose presence is a sign, a sign of eternity that has already come, of eternity already embedded in time, we ask Him to come and perform a miracle so that this community opens up to the limits of infinity and eternity, so that this small Christian community becomes for a moment eternity, and so that what will be true in eternity becomes reality in time: bread and wine would become the Body and Blood of Christ. This does not happen in historical time; in the world of two dimensions of time and space this does not happen; but this happens, and this happens, and this happens at that moment when eternity bursts into time and time is now absorbed by eternity.

But what is our priestly position? With what horror we stand, performing the service, when this is done! I know a case when a young priest, standing at the throne of God and feeling that he was unable to perform a mysterious sacred act that surpasses all human power, in a moment of confusion said: “Lord! I can't! I can't!" - and suddenly he felt that someone had stood between him and the holy throne; he had to retreat and stand at a distance from the throne, because Someone stood invisibly, performing that Divine Liturgy, which He alone can perform. This is our time, this is within the limits of my personal experience.

This means that what is true about Christ in relation to creation, in relation to man, must be truth and reality in life, in experience, in the action of the shepherd. Christ was in the glory of the Father. Out of love, sacrificial, love on the cross for fallen man, He became a man; He took upon Himself all the limitations of creation; He took upon Himself life in a created world narrowed to horror through sin; He bore all the consequences of the fall. And not only in thirst, not only in hunger, not only in fatigue, not only in confusion of spirit, not only in tears over Lazarus, not only in bodily death, physical death on the Cross. He united with us so much, became so one with us, so wanted to be what we are, so that we would become what He is - that by free will, tragically, crosswise, murderously, He took upon Himself the deprivation of God that kills a person. Man lost God through sin, Christ, as it were, lost God at the moment of His death on the cross, so as not to be separated in any way from the fate of man. My God! My God! Why did you leave me?

(Mark 15:34) - the most terrible cry that has ever sounded in human history, because the Son of God, who became the Son of Man, wanted to be so united with the
sons of disobedience
that he agreed, like them, to lose God along with them . And from this deprivation of God, from this terrible abandonment of God, He died, like every son of man, and descended into hell.

After all, we testify with icons, church tradition, and the faith of the Church that after death Christ descended into hell; but we must understand what this means! When we think about hell, we think picturesquely, folklorically, about a place of terrible torment. But the worst thing in the hell of the Old Testament, in Sheol

, about which the psalmist or other places of Holy Scripture speaks, is not torment, but the fact that this is a place where God does not exist and never will be, this is a place of the last, hopeless absence of God, the ultimate abandonment of God forever. Through Adam's sin everyone went to this hell. Read the parable of the rich man and Lazarus; and the rich man, and Lazarus, and Abraham are in this Sheol; their fate is different, their suffering is different, and their abandonment is almost the same; there is no way between God and this place. And when Christ descends into hell, having lost God in this horror of Godlessness, He, like every person who has lost God, goes into those depths from which there seems to be no return and where there is no meeting with God. And hell opens wide to catch the One who conquered it on earth all the time, in everything, everywhere. And - oh horror! - discovers that with this human soul the fullness of the Divine presence entered hell.

This is the way of Christ. What is our path? If we are shepherds, if we are priests in Christ, then we must walk the entire path of Christ in the readiness to be so united with the lost sheep, and with the forsaken of God, and with the sinner - with every person, so that, if necessary, we go to the horror of the night of Gethsemane, to go to the horror of bodily death, to go to the horror of deprivation of God... At the moment when we only think that death will finally open the path to God for us, we must be ready to descend into human, earthly hell and, if necessary, not leave anyone without our mercy wherever he finds himself.

When Christ says: I know the Father and therefore I give My life for the sheep

(John 10:15) - He says that he knows the cross, sacrificial Divine love so much that he gives all of Himself: His eternity - for destruction, His glory - for extinction, His body - for reproach, His soul - for torment, giving all of Himself, every hour.
The Savior says: For them I consecrate Myself, for them I consecrate Myself
(John 17:19). This means two things. On the one hand: “I give Myself as a sacrifice,” and on the other hand: “I prepare Myself for this sacrifice with such perfect purity, holiness, dedication to God, in order to be a worthy, blameless Lamb, slain before the beginning of the world.” This is the priestly standing.

I cannot tell you very much in one conversation, but at least take it somewhere on the edge of what you will find in textbooks, where so much is said so richly and so well. But if we do not know this, then from textbooks we can learn how to be a priest, but not what

to be priests.
We have only one image; not even an example, but the essence of our priesthood is one: the Lord Jesus Christ. As the Father sent Me, so I send you
(John 20:21).
I gave you an example for you to follow.
As I washed your feet, so wash you one another’s feet (John 13:14-15).
Whoever wants to be first among you must be servant of all
(Mark 9:35).

The priest has no power; a priest has no rights; There is only a terrible and wondrous, truly Divine privilege - to love to death, and death on the cross. One of the Western ascetics, asked what a priest is, answered: “A priest is a crucified man.” This is a person who has renounced, and renounces, and every hour must anew renounce himself, from any rights; not only from the false right to do evil and be a sinner, but even from the legitimate rights of humanity, human life. He is the image of Christ, he is the icon, he is Christ’s care, he is Christ’s love; he is Christ's blood that can be shed.

Along this path there are several things that a priest must do. The first is to pray; to stand before God for the flock, for the people. But standing up for the people does not mean feeling like a separate, privileged person who has access to the altar and offers prayers. To stand before God for a people means to feel so united with this people that every cry of this people, every groan, every prayer, every cry of repentance, every joy passes through it like water flows through a gutter. And this can sometimes be very scary. I remember when I was a young priest, there was a man in my parish from whom I was horrified and disgusted and internally shuddered. And yet it was clear to me that if I cannot say that I am giving through myself, there is room in myself for this person’s prayer, if I cannot say before God: “He and I are one,” then I do not have the right to serve the Liturgy for him . I remember I came to church two, three hours before the service, stood in front of the Royal Doors and fought and fought until the moment when I could finally say: “Yes, Lord, let this man’s prayer pass through me; I recognize it as flesh of my flesh and blood of my blood, although I experience it as leprosy.” And so we had to fight for more than ten years. And so countless people struggle. Of course, not everyone is so bad, other people have more fire, more spirit, more strength, so be it; but sooner or later everyone may have to ask the question: can I say about this person: “He is flesh of my flesh, he is blood of my blood, and we are before You, Lord, as one; Either save us together, or reject us together!”

At the end of the ancient rite of confession in Rus', after confession had been brought, when the prayer of permission had already been given, the penitent put his hand on the neck, on the neck, of the priest - and the priest said to him: “Your sins are on me; Go in peace." Your sins are on me, because Christ acts in me, Who alone can take away the sins of others. But also in another sense: when someone believed you so much that he opened up to you, confessed his soul, your fate and his fate are intertwined forever and ever. The struggle that takes place in a person is not a struggle against flesh and blood, not a struggle against his humanity, substance, but a struggle against the forces of evil in heaven.

(see Eph. 6:12). And if a person has revealed to you his struggle, his struggle, his sin, his defeat, you, the priest, must for his sake, for him, together with him, conquer in yourself that evil of which you have become a free and free participant, having accepted his confession and recognized his man who is your flesh and blood. A confessor is a person whom another can trust so much as to open up to the end. You can believe in his love and know: you will not be rejected, you can believe in his truth and know: you will not be deceived, you can believe in his loyalty and know: he will never give up on you, neither in this century nor in the future. Is this what we are, priests who confess another?

But this applies not only to the priest, this applies to everyone. Each confession may be the last confession of a person; a person must bring each confession to God as if it were his dying hour. The priest must accept each confession with the same reverence, with the same consciousness of responsibility, with the same tremulous horror and tremulous love with which he would convey it to the court, would go to the court of God together with the person who is confessing to him. And those people who crowd and wait for their turn should understand confession in the same way. A man stands at the Last Judgment: will he walk away acquitted - or will I see with my own eyes the eternal death of my brother or sister? If only we understood this, would we be impatient for a long confession, when a person, on his deathbed, finally, in the end, tries to be saved from eternal condemnation? Do we teach this to anyone, starting with ourselves? In this sense, do we not sin along with the people who are impatient with a long confession, because “time is passing, my turn could come”? If you failed to show love, caring, prayer towards this person who is before God’s judgment, what are you thinking, what do you expect from God? After all, with what measure you measure, with such measure it will be measured.

And the last thing I would like to say (and of course, all this is very cursory) is just one word about preaching: how to preach, how to prepare? I’ll say this: prepare with your whole life. One does not prepare for a sermon by simply sitting down at a desk and surrounding oneself with the interpretations of the Holy Fathers. When the Fathers spoke, their words came from the heart, they shouted

from the depths of your experience. If we simply repeat what they said, their cry may not reach anywhere. St. John Climacus has a place where he says that the word of God is like an arrow that can hit the target and pierce the shield. But, he says, the arrow will remain ineffective if there is no bow, string, strong hand and true eye. This is us. The Word of God is like a straight, pure arrow, capable of piercing any thickness of sin, any fossil; but it will not fly if someone does not shoot this arrow, if there is not a faithful eye that guides it, a powerful hand that pulls the bow. And this is our enormous responsibility.