Глава I. В начале пути

Arzamas region: family, childhood, spiritual education In the 60s of the 19th century, Arzamas was a small provincial town in the southeast of the Nizhny Novgorod region. Its glorious and now so distant past as a fortress city, an important point on the transit and trade route, a center of minted and icon-painting art, and fair festivities, was gradually forgotten. Churches and monasteries of “truly metropolitan scale” remained silent evidence of the passing “golden age” of Arzamas, which were built in abundance in the 18th – first half of the 19th centuries. For a population of 12 thousand there were 30 churches and seven monasteries. Here you could feel the old kondovaya Rus' everywhere and life flowed according to the old Testament traditions of our grandfathers. The Stragorodsky family has been associated with the world of the clergy since time immemorial. Back in the 18th century, one of Sergius’s ancestors, Sylvester Stragorodsky (1725–1802), was the archimandrite of the Pereslavl Nikitsky Monastery, and then, in 1761, the bishop of Pereslavl and Dmitrovsky, and even later - the bishop of Krutitsky. He was the son of a Tsarskoe Selo court priest and had a princess, later Empress Elizaveta Petrovna, as his godmother. This fact apparently greatly contributed to his church career. Sylvester of Stragorod's star sank with the persecution of the disgraced Metropolitan Arseniy Matseevich (1697–1772), who opposed the secularization policy of Catherine II and with whom Sylvester was closely associated. He died in 1802 as rector of the Moscow Spaso-Andronikov Monastery and was buried at the entrance to the Church of the Sign. The epitaph was inscribed on the tombstone: “And you, who honor this, my dear passer-by, looking at the decay and dust that the grave hides. Take the advice of the deceased that is useful to you: so that, remembering death, you will always be ready to be at Judgment.” In the 1860s, two representatives from the Stragorodsky family served as priests in Arzamas: father and son. Senior Stragorodsky - John Dmitrievich, Archpriest of the Resurrection Cathedral; and the youngest is Nikolai Ioannovich, senior priest in the Arzamas Alekseevsky convent. In the Nikolaev women's monastery, the daughter of John Dmitrievich, Yennafa of Stragorod, was also a novice, who later accepted monasticism with the name Eugene and became the abbess of the Alekseevsky monastery. The Stragorodskys lived in a house that belonged to Archpriest John Dmitrievich, which was located opposite the Holy Gates of the Alekseevsky Monastery. The father of the future patriarch, Archpriest Nikolai Stragorodsky, received the usual education for children of the clergy - at the Arzamas Theological School and the Nizhny Novgorod Theological Seminary. In November 1864, in the Arzamas Resurrection Cathedral, he married seventeen-year-old Lyubov Raevskaya. At the beginning of December 1865, Bishop Nektariy (Nadezhdin) of Nizhny Novgorod and Arzamas, who arrived in Arzamas, ordained Nicholas to the rank of deacon at the Divine Liturgy in the Resurrection Cathedral, followed by an appointment to the vacancy of a cleric at the St. Nicholas Convent. Two years later, on January 19, 1866, the father of Nikolai and Lyubov Dmitrievna Stragorodsky had their first child, daughter Alexandra. In 1867, on January 11, a second child was born - a boy. According to church tradition, a few days later in the Resurrection Cathedral the sacrament of baptism was performed and he was given the name Ivan. His successors were his grandfather, Archpriest John Dmitrievich, and his mother’s sister Varvara Raevskaya. In September 1868, Lyubov Dmitrievna died of consumption, and Nikolai Ioannovich was left alone with two young children. Having been widowed, Father Nikolai led a strict and modest life, dividing all his time between church and family. He was loved in the monastery for his earnest service to God and his constant readiness for spiritual guidance and help. In his home, he established a routine of life in strict accordance with the general church and monastery statutes. Relatives came to his aid; the grandmother of the future patriarch, Pelageya Vasilievna, took on the main responsibility for raising the children. She was helped in this by her nanny Anna Trofimovna and the watchman of the Resurrection Cathedral, Elizarych, with whom young Vanya sometimes disappeared for days at a time. We can say that the brother and sister spent their childhood in the fence of the Alekseevsky Monastery, where their father, Priest Nikolai Stragorodsky, who was appointed senior priest at the monastery in 1867, served as priest. The monastery, located at the end of Progonnaya Street, was notable for its three stone churches: the Ascension of the Lord, the Assumption and the Hospital - in the name of St. John Climacus and the Great Martyr Barbara. The main shrine of the community was the locally revered icon of the Mother of God “Quench My Sorrows” and the image of St. Nicholas the Wonderworker. At the monastery there was a hospice house, two hospitals and various workshops. The pupils of the monastery studied the Law of God, reading prayers and psalms. In addition, young nuns were required to be taught various handicrafts for two hours a day: first, embroidery on canvas, then more complex embroidery with gold and pearls. The sisters of the Alekseevskaya community were famous for making shrouds, vestments and various church and liturgical items embroidered in gold and silver. Orders for them came even from Greece and the Holy Land. One of the shrouds made by the sisters, as well as banners, were donated by the community to the newly consecrated Cathedral of Christ the Savior in Moscow, for which Mother Evgenia was awarded a “gold medal to be worn on the chest on the Alexander Ribbon.” Ivan and Alexandra visited the territory of the community almost every day, ran and played with the girls from the monastery orphanage, and went to visit the nuns, who were kind to the orphans. Father Nikolai was diligently involved in the upbringing and education of his children: he taught them to pray, taught them to read and write and work. There was a good library in his house; in his free time, he bound old books, in which little Vanya always provided him with all possible help. The boy went to church services with his grandfather Archpriest John at the Resurrection Cathedral and served him at the altar there. Ivan Stragorodsky, as was customary in clergy families, received his subsequent education at a parish school. At the age of eight, he was assigned to the Arzamas Theological School in the preparatory class. The next year, after admissions tests, he was enrolled in the first grade of the school. After finishing the first grade, in the annual student record, next to Ivan’s last name, there was an entry: “behavior - very good,” and in the column about success: “good.” In the list for marking “exam points,” Ivan’s grades in subjects looked like this: Sacred history - 4, Russian language - 5, Latin language - 5, arithmetic - 4, singing - 3, penmanship - 3. In 1880, studies at the school were completed, and entrance tests at the Nizhny Novgorod Theological Seminary lay ahead. According to the rank lists of the seminary, Ivan Stragorodsky occupied high places during all the years of his studies. In first grade he is third; in the third - in second place; in the fifth - at the first, that is, he graduates from the seminary as the best student. While studying at the seminary, Ivan Stragorodsky had already made his choice: to continue his theological education at the St. Petersburg Theological Academy. In 1886, there was no call to the academy from the Nizhny Novgorod seminary, and therefore, at their own peril and risk, Ivan, together with his friend Ivan Slobodsky, came to St. Petersburg to enter the academy as volunteers, relying solely on their own strength, and not on the direction and patronage of the theological seminary they had graduated from. The choice was not made by chance. The St. Petersburg Academy shone with the names of major scientists. The Holy Scriptures of the Old Testament were read by one of the best experts on the Old Testament text, F. G. Eleonsky, author of “The History of the Israelite People in Egypt”; philosophy was taught by M.I. Karinsky, who criticized Kantian epistemology in his work “On Self-Evident Truths”; and logic – A.E. Svetilin. The historical department was especially well represented by famous names. Such luminaries as I. F. Nilsky, a famous Byzantine scholar, taught courses there; M. O. Koyalovich, I. S. Palmov, the greatest specialist in the history of the Slavs; Professor-Archpriest P.F. Nikolaevsky; Church archeology and liturgics were read by N.V. Pokrovsky, a well-known expert in Christian icon painting, and the course of dogmatic theology - Nizhny Novgorod resident A. L. Katansky. The authority of the St. Petersburg Theological Academy was very high, and there were always enough people willing to enroll there. In the second half of August 1886, all those who appeared for the admission tests, and there were more than a hundred people, passed the following entrance exams: written - on the Holy Scriptures of the Old Testament, the history of the Russian Church and the Greek language; oral - according to the Holy Scriptures of the New Testament, liturgics, Latin and foreign languages. The surviving materials indicate a very different level of knowledge demonstrated by applicants. For example, the commission summing up the results of test tests in liturgics noted that “gross errors were encountered in the answers to questions about chronology and history”; “the pupils have extremely scant information and confused concepts about the sources from the history of worship,” and also that the pupils’ indifference to the divine service and lack of proper knowledge about it were discovered. And the final note on the results of the exams on the Holy Scriptures of the New Testament said: “The answers of the students examined were generally satisfactory, the majority expressed more or less accurate and detailed information both on history and in the interpretation of the most important passages of the Holy text.” Based on the results of entrance tests, a third of applicants who received unsatisfactory grades in written and oral exams were not accepted into the academy. Ivan Stragorodsky successfully passed the entrance exams. According to the results of the testing tests, the young Nizhny Novgorod resident was among the thirty-five best enrolled in government support, and in the compiled rank list of students he was even sixth. Academic life began: lectures, library classes, exams, coursework and semester essays. Students were distributed in dormitory rooms according to their communities. The Nizhny Novgorod, Ryazan, Olonets and Smolensk communities were placed in one large hall on the second floor with windows overlooking the Obvodny Canal and the rector's building. In appearance, Ivan Stragorodsky was not particularly noticeable among the students: tall, thin, a little awkward, wearing glasses and with unruly hair. But upon closer acquaintance, this impression changed radically: Ivan Nikolaevich turned out to be a man of unusually gentle character, he was friendly and even with everyone. In addition, he had an excellent bass voice, and his new comrades were literally enchanted when, on the very first evening, with his backing voice, I.P. Slobodsky, he sang folk songs and especially spiritual poems from the Kalikas of passers-by. The ability to sing was accompanied by the ability to play the harmonium. Ivan loved this instrument and improvised church music very successfully. Stragorodsky's popularity among his comrades quickly grew, and with some of them he developed a sincere and deep friendship that lasted for the rest of his life. At that time, the academy's curriculum, according to the charter of 1884, included subjects in two departments: historical and literary. Student Stragorodsky took a subject from the history department to study. At that time, students’ schedules were not particularly overloaded: listening to professors’ lectures alternated with writing so-called semester essays, and therefore they were given a lot of time for self-education. Ivan Stragorodsky additionally enrolled in foreign language courses: English, German and Hebrew; Possessing a good voice, he took part in divine services in the academic church almost every day. Excellent living conditions, brilliant teaching staff, and an excellent library gave students the opportunity to devote themselves to science. For self-education, student Stragorodsky began studying the text and interpretation of the Holy Scriptures and patristic literature. Very soon, Ivan began to stand out among students for his extraordinary knowledge; his course essays were distinguished by their depth of thought and erudition. Stragorodsky was not interested in secular pleasures, to which many of his comrades paid tribute, but he invariably attended daily academic services. One of Ivan Stragorodsky’s fellow students, later Archbishop Barsanuphius (Gorodtsev), recalled: “The really bright star... of the course was Ivan Nikolaevich Stragorodsky... From the very first days he declared himself attentive to the so-called semester essays, thoughtfully read the necessary books, for which he visited the Public Library, listened to lectures and gave brilliant answers in exams... Even in the third year he began diligently study the works of the holy fathers of the Church and get acquainted with mystical literature... Under the influence of paternal and ascetic literature, the desire to become a monk began to mature and grow stronger in the heart of Ivan Nikolaevich, and he, while still a student, decided to go to the Valaam Monastery in order to experience the ascetic life of the monks of this strict monastery according to the rules... He... was very fond of the works of Tikhon of Zadonsk, Theophan the Recluse... In In conversations, he called me into monasticism: “Leave,” he said, “the dead to bury their dead.” When entering the second year, student Ivan Stragorodsky took fourteenth place in the rank list of the academic course, and second place in the third year; on the fourth - third. In the summer of 1889, before the last fourth year, Ivan Stragorodsky and his classmate Yakov Ivanov went on a pilgrimage to Valaam. They stayed there throughout the summer holidays. Ivan worked in the monastery office, and Yakov was engaged in all kinds of physical work in the monastery household. There the final decision comes to both of them to accept monasticism. The persistent calls of the academic inspector Archimandrite Anthony (Khrapovitsky) for students to take monastic orders in order to serve their church with their whole life also played a role in this. By the way, Vasily Belavin, the future Patriarch of Moscow, who studied several courses older than Ivan Stragorodsky, was also a student of Anthony Khrapovitsky in the same years. We don’t know how familiar they were, but we can assume that their paths crossed at the academy, as they will intersect in the future. Student Stragorodsky attracted Archimandrite Anthony with his brilliant abilities, kindness and purely Orthodox understanding of theology. The nature of the relationship that developed between them can be judged by the gift that Sergius gave to his teacher and friend after graduating from the academy. He presented him with a panagia with the image of the Vladimir Mother of God, on which was inscribed: “To my dear teacher and friend. Give of your oil, for our lamps are going out” (Matthew 25:8). The decision of Ivan and Yakov shocked their comrades at the academy. Losing two of the most beloved members of the young circle that had formed over three years of marriage was not easy. Moreover, both of them had to leave their usual academic life, leave their rooms and their friends and move into a new environment of academic monks. The comrades became agitated, there were attempts to convince, dissuade, there were heated discussions, but they did not give the desired results. Then they decided to write to Stragorodsky’s father in order to dissuade Ivan with his help. Archpriest Nikolai Stragorodsky specially came to the capital, spoke with his son about his decision and ultimately gave his blessing to this step. ...On January 30, 1890, on the Day of Remembrance of the Three Hierarchs, the rite of tonsure of two fourth-year students of the academy - Ivan Nikolaevich Stragorodsky and Yakov Fedorovich Ivanov - was performed in the academic church. Young men walked slowly, barefoot, wearing long white shirts under black robes, accompanied by monks. While singing the stichera “The Father’s Embrace Holds Myself”, with frequent stops and genuflections, the procession proceeded to the academic church. On the solea they were met by the rector of the academy, Bishop Anthony (Vadkovsky), with the question: - Why did the brothers come? And barely audible answers are heard: - Desiring a fasting life. Then followed the usual questions about monastic vows during tonsure and the humble answers of those being tonsured: “I will help God,” ending with Bishop Anthony’s three-fold offer to give him scissors for tonsure. And... the culmination is tonsure. There is no more Ivan Stragorodsky. There is a monk Sergius, who took this name in honor of one of the wonderworkers of the Valaam monastery. And his comrade took the name of another Valaam miracle worker - Herman. Bishop Anthony (Vadkovsky) of Vyborg gave a parting word, pointing out to the newly tonsured people humility as the crown of moral perfection. Bishop of Smolensk and Dorogobuzh Gury (Okhotin) and the manager of the Synodal Chancellery V.K. Sabler were also present. In the only collection of articles and materials dedicated to Sergius of Stragorodsky and published by the Moscow Patriarchate in 1947, some recollections of Sergius’ classmates about this period were published. One of them, the future Archbishop of Novosibirsk Bartholomew (Gorodtsov), wrote: “Soon the young monk Sergius was ordained as a hierodeacon and began to serve in the academic church: the service of the young hierodeacon with its deep inspiration made a great impression on everyone present in the church. And now I remember how the young hierodeacon, after receiving the Holy Mysteries, full of tenderness, holding the holy chalice in his hands, exclaimed: “Approach with the fear of God and faith.” I remember his wonderful, always meaningful reading of the Holy Gospel, and I especially remember the special impression that his reading of the Holy Gospel on Holy Tuesday made on me.” After being tonsured, Sergius settled in a separate room, away from the student noise. In a quiet monastic atmosphere, under the leadership of the academy inspector, Archimandrite Anthony (Khrapovitsky), the last six months of study took place. They were devoted to working on a candidate's dissertation on the topic “Orthodox teaching on faith and good deeds.” The topic itself was already sufficiently clear evidence of the theological maturity of the author and his state of mind. One of the most difficult questions of Christian dogma and the teaching of morality was taken for research. On the one hand, he sought to critically comprehend the position of the Roman Catholic Church, according to which, in order to justify a person before God, the presence of good deeds was required, and their deficiency could be replenished from the stock of supererogatory merits of the saints; on the other hand, he analyzed Protestant ethics, which made a person’s salvation dependent only on his faith in Christ, believing that good deeds, no matter how significant they are, will not save a person and only the righteousness of Christ will cover the sinner as a robe. Orthodox moral theology, objecting to both Catholicism and Protestantism, sought to establish its own vision of this problem, to formulate accurately and clearly the relationship between faith and good deeds. Hieromonk Sergius also adhered to this goal, writing the work under the guidance of Professor A.L. Katansky. On May 9, 1890, Hieromonk Sergius brilliantly completed his theological education. Both reviewers, opponents, and his supervisor agreed that the dissertation work was the fruit of long independent reflection and a sincere expression of the author’s view on the issue he was examining, that it demonstrated a rare reading of patristic literature for students. On Saturday, June 9, 1890, the academy council approved the list of theological candidates who completed the course that year. Hieromonk Sergius took first place among forty-seven master's candidates. It should be said that over two-thirds of the students in this course will in the future take priestly orders, and eight of them will become bishops and all of them will serve the church with honor and zeal. In total, 70 people graduated from the academic course in 1890. According to tradition, the final moment of the graduation celebration was a joint lunch of graduates. These dinners were usually attended by all previous graduates of the academy. This time among the guests, the oldest was the editor of the “Church and Public Bulletin” Popovitsky, and the most notable was the confessor of the royal family, Protopresbyter of the Court Clergy I. L. Yanyshev. According to the current academic regulations, Sergius Stragorodsky was supposed to remain at the academy as a scholarship holder to defend his master's thesis and prepare for a professorship. A brilliant prospect for a scientific career opened up before the young monk. But he chose something else - missionary service. On June 11, a petition was submitted to the rector of the academy, Bishop Anthony, with a request to send him to serve as part of the Japanese Orthodox Mission. Without delay, on June 13, the Holy Synod issued a decree on his appointment. On June 15, the decree was received by the academy “for further orders.” There was little left: to receive a gold pectoral cross, which was required by the nature of the new church service, a foreign passport, lifting and travel money. Anticipating a long separation from his loved ones, Sergius went to his homeland, Arzamas. While in his hometown, he visited his nanny Anna Trofimovna in the monastery hospital, who was ill at that time and to whom he said goodbye as a relative. Sergius will never see her again. He did not forget his native academy, where the Society for the Benefit of Poor Students had just been organized, to which he sent his first contribution - 200 rubles. Now the young hieromonk Sergius of Stragorodsky was ready to begin his missionary journey. ...It was a hot August of 1890. The steamship Kostroma of the Volunteer Fleet set sail from Odessa. Among the passengers - merchants, service people, journalists and simply vacationers and travelers - is Hieromonk Sergius Stragorodsky, who went on his first business trip abroad. We had to spend a long two and a half months on board. Already in the evening, Sergius fills his diary with his first impressions of parting with Russia; information about some of his fellow travelers whom he managed to meet; about the sailing route and plans, including learning Japanese and reading books. With him are his “good friends” - the Japanese translation of Oktoichus, Roshkevich’s “Lexicon”, Smirnov’s “Grammar of the Japanese Language”, the American edition of the New Testament in Japanese. Looking at the mysterious hieroglyphs, behind which their contents could only be guessed, Sergius understood that in order to be accepted in a distant and foreign country, all this would have to be studied and after that, using them to teach others the life of Christ. On board, day after day, water... water. Occasionally we came across oncoming steamships, fishing schooners, and also green and yellow, mountainous and low-lying islands. On the horizon, in the haze or in the clear and clean air, are the shores of countries whose names the young missionary knew only from maps and atlases. Occasionally we visited foreign ports: Constantinople, Port Said, Perim, Colombo, Penang, Singapore, Saigon, Hong Kong, Amoy, Shanghai - a diverse, multilingual and multicultural world, which for a young man from small Arzamas suddenly ceased to be an unknown “abroad”, a fairy tale, dreams, but became a reality where he had to live and work. But finally here is the cherished goal. On October 20, 1890, he stepped off the deck of the ship onto Japanese soil. From the sea coast, a fast train took Sergius to the capital - Tokyo. From the station, the driver on a two-wheeled handcart quickly took him through the noisy streets of the capital, through parks, over bridges over moats and through the outlandish gates of palaces. And all around are people who are just as different from Russians as their homes and the world in which they live are different. The driver, a young guy, runs quickly, only occasionally glancing at the white man in a black robe. Probably, the thought flashed through his head about the difference between the world called “Russia”, from which this young foreigner arrived, and his beloved and dear country. In the distance, Surugadai Hill appeared, as if floating above the entire surrounding area. And on the edge of the hill the Orthodox church was white, shining with its cross in the clear sky. Sergius crossed himself and sighed with relief. The driver, without asking Sergius anything (apparently, he had to be here), stopped near an unremarkable two-story building, trying with all his appearance and polite gestures to explain that the journey was over, he needed to go to the house. A Japanese woman came out onto the porch and in Russian invited Sergius to enter, saying that the bishop had been waiting for a guest for a long time. The arrival was escorted to the reception area. Sergius looked around: it was a small room, the walls of which were completely covered with engravings. There was a table, a sofa, and several chairs in it. I thought: “It’s cramped and a little dark.” But here is the sound of quick steps. A very tall man wearing a cassock, tied with an embroidered belt, came down the stairs. This was the “apostle of Japan” Bishop Nikolai Kasatkin, who had been laboring here for more than thirty years. “You are welcome,” he spoke quickly, blessing Sergius with a wide cross, “please, settle down in our living room.” After a long journey, traditional tea was offered, and then we went to the church to serve a thanksgiving prayer on the occasion of our arrival. We proceeded through the various premises of the mission, where ordinary church life took place. Here is the junior class of the seminary... The students sat in Japanese style on the floor, with their legs tucked under them. Instead of desks, there were low and long benches in front of them. There was a Chinese language lesson, and the little Japanese were diligently drawing out the most impossible Chinese characters with large brushes. The teacher from the pulpit “quacked, hissed” and completely fell apart in curtseys. He was an old man, small, thin, shaven, who had long ago converted to Christianity. His Eminence Nikolai left the guest in the classroom, and he himself went to gather his flock at church on the occasion of the arrival of a new member of the mission. A little later, a messenger came for Sergius and took him to the mission church, fortunately it was located next to the class. The church, small but cozy, was gradually filled with people. Sergius looked with curiosity at his new flock. Students from a girls' school with several teachers quietly walked by in pairs. Seminarians and teachers entered and settled in a more brisk manner, but also relatively modestly. The service began, led by Bishop Nicholas, served by a Japanese priest and deacon. They served in Japanese, only His Grace Nicholas spoke exclamations for the new arrival and read the Gospel in Slavonic. The choir sang, and quite well. Everyone present in the church, about a hundred people, also sang. The tunes were familiar to Sergius, but only the words were different. After the service, Bishop Nicholas left all his affairs and led Hieromonk Sergius through his domain. First of all, he showed the St. Nicholas Cathedral under construction, which resembled a Byzantine basilica and therefore seemed something outlandish surrounded by typical low Japanese buildings. Then we toured the church school, art workshop, seminary, dormitory for seminarians and houses for teachers. And the next day, Vladyka Nikolai was next to Sergius. He took him to another Orthodox church, located in the Koozi-matsi quarter. At the small church there was also a catechist school and a kindergarten for little Japanese. In total, there were about three thousand Orthodox Christians in Tokyo at that time. Each community was headed by a catechist, who lived in the church house, where various church meetings took place. Everyone came to worship either at the mission or at Koozi-matsi. Even a brief acquaintance with the mission made an impression. Sergius wrote in his diary: “Yes, life here is in full swing everywhere, in schools, in the office, and on buildings, and all of this is due to one Right Reverend Nicholas, he is everywhere, everything was started and supported by him.” The young hieromonk immediately became involved in the affairs of the mission. He had to serve in Tokyo, Osaka and Kyoto. As the entry in the diary testifies: “I wandered around Japan, visiting our numerous Christian communities scattered everywhere or looking for lost and lonely Christians due to frequent movements.” Once he served in the Osaka prayer house: very few Christians gathered, and they apparently felt somewhat lonely in the half-empty church. Looking at them, the young missionary made a vow in his heart: every day in the evenings to go to Christian houses for acquaintance and edification. Ask, beg, denounce your listeners and interlocutors, apply all your eloquence to the matter, but strive for the growth of the Orthodox community. And the Lord did not leave these works without blessing: Christians living in Osaka gradually gathered into a close church community and regularly attended services. Not only that: every now and then they looked for Christians who had been lost for a long time or had just moved from somewhere and brought them to church. On the pages of the diary, details of impressions of what was seen and learned were recorded. In the form of letters from a “Russian missionary,” some of the diary entries are published in Russian magazines, arousing genuine interest among society. Readers were able to learn for the first time about many aspects of the life of the Japanese, about the peculiarities of their character, from these letters. One of them contains the following lines: “There is a lot of greenery and freshness here, but, a wonderful thing, Japanese flowers have no smell. Everything in Japan is cute and beautiful; Their flowers are beautiful, but they are not fragrant. Their birds are lovely, but they don't sing. The Japanese are exquisitely kind and affectionate, but they do not kiss, even between parents and children. You walk as if in a panorama, you see nature, cities, people, but all these are just pictures, only the outer side of life, hiding emptiness.” This “emptiness,” which is akin to “paganism,” was explained by the author by the weak spread of Christianity and Orthodoxy among the Japanese, which, as it seemed to him, alone could fill a person and society with the meaning of existence. In an effort to be closer to his flock, Sergius is learning Japanese. His teacher was the same old man whom he met in the seminary class when he first arrived at the mission. The teacher is wonderful, but out of politeness, sometimes he did not correct mistakes, and sometimes incidents happened. But, be that as it may, every morning Sergius, having drunk tea and warmed up from the night cold, met his teacher. He, first of all, bowed and bowed his head low, approaching Hieromonk Sergius for a blessing. The Japanese have established a custom of accepting blessings not with their hands, but with their heads. And only after that the next lesson began. Diligence and diligence soon yielded good results: during the service, Sergius already pronounces individual phrases, holding in front of him a piece of paper with Japanese words written in Russian letters. Later he managed without it, having mastered the language quite tolerably. In the winter and spring of 1891/92, Hieromonk Sergius was seconded as a ship's priest to the military cruiser "Memory of Azov". He visited Nagasaki on it, and the team spent the winter in Hong Kong. He managed to surprisingly quickly establish good relations with the officers and sailors of the cruiser. Sea life made an indelible impression on the young hieromonk, and in the future he more than once recalled his short service on the cruiser. Upon returning from a business trip, in the summer of 1892, Bishop Nicholas sent Sergius of Stragorodsky to Kyoto. Due to the impossibility of finding a private apartment, Sergius lived in a church house. There were few Orthodox Christians in Kyoto, only six houses, which were also scattered at opposite ends of the city, and Sergius tried to visit all his parishioners regularly. At the same time, he was entrusted with the responsibility of teaching dogmatic theology at the theological seminary in Kyoto. He gave lectures in Japanese. The young missionary was making noticeable progress. It was not for nothing that Bishop Nicholas later said that of all the assistants sent to him from Russia, Sergius was the only one whom he would like to see as his successor. But this was not destined to come true. In the spring of 1893, Sergius was summoned to Russia. The pagan land - Japan - remained far, far away; some memorable objects brought to their homeland for their loved ones and for themselves reminded of it. For a short time, the hieromonk served as an assistant professor at the St. Petersburg Theological Academy. Then he was transferred to the position of inspector at the Moscow Theological Academy, where he managed to gain universal love and respect. In October 1894, Sergius was elevated to the rank of archimandrite and appointed rector of the embassy church in Athens. Students of the Moscow Theological Academy presented Sergius with a golden pectoral cross as a souvenir. On October 17, 1894, Archimandrite Sergius left Sergiev Posad for Athens, accompanied all the way to the carriage by the academy students who loved him. Sergius stayed in Greece until 1897. During this time, he not only got to know his host country well, but he was lucky enough to travel to the Holy Land - Palestine. During all the years of his missionary activity, Archimandrite Sergius found time for theological work. He was haunted by the problem of the relationship between faith and good deeds that had bothered him since his student days. In 1895, having arrived in Russia on vacation, Archimandrite Sergius found time to defend a dissertation at the Moscow Theological Academy on the topic “Orthodox teaching on salvation. The experience of revealing the moral and subjective side of salvation on the basis of the Holy Scriptures and the works of the patrists.” The official opponents were the rector of the Moscow Theological Academy, Archimandrite Anthony (Khrapovitsky) and the extraordinary professor in the department of history and analysis of Western confessions V. A. Sokolov, the unofficial opponent was Professor M. D. Muretov. As noted in a note published in the Church Bulletin, to all the opponents’ objections, “the master’s student gave thorough and clear answers. The Academy Council recognized the defense as satisfactory, and the master’s student as worthy of the academic degree of Master of Theology.” The diploma issued by the council of the Moscow Theological Academy for the award of the academic degree of Master of Theology testified that Sergius Stragorodsky was approved in this degree by the Holy Synod, and therefore “he is granted all the rights and benefits that are combined with the master’s degree of the Theological Academy by the laws of the Russian Empire.” “An excellent study, outstanding in terms of talent,” was the assessment of this work by contemporaries. It has not lost its relevance today, having gone through several reprints in the last decade. On each of his vacations, Sergius made sure to visit his homeland - Arzamas. In the summer of 1896, on his way home, he turned to Kazan, where his friend Archimandrite Anthony (Khrapovitsky) in those years was the rector of the Kazan Theological Academy. In the evenings, the rector’s father traditionally had guests: students, teachers of the academy and other secular and church educational institutions. So this time, among those gathered, a conversation suddenly turned up about the “transience” and “insignificance” of human life. “Life is empty and short,” said a private assistant professor at a local university, “a piece of blue fog in a snow cloud.” And only for a few people it passes easily, “in warmth and light,” but for the majority it is filled with suffering. And does it really matter how you live this life, because its brevity is the solution to the problem and you cannot be too unhappy for a moment. An exchange of opinions and a dispute followed, but everyone agreed that, perhaps, the most convincing was Archimandrite Sergius, who said: “Yes, life is fleeting, but it is up to everyone to make it fulfilling and, if not perfect, then much closer to perfection. Death is not the complete destruction of human life, it is only a link in the chain through which a new, now endless life is revealed. It will develop in a direction that is morally valuable or meaningless, painfully insignificant - in accordance with how and in what direction a person’s earthly life, given for preparation for heavenly life, went.” These thoughts of the young archimandrite testified to his intention to make his earthly life meaningful, a time of preparation for the transition to another world. Hence his desire for monasticism, departure from this world, “lying in evil.” He also encouraged others to go into monasticism. And in this aspiration, he largely agreed with Archimandrite Anthony, which became the “soil” for their many years of friendship. Leaving Kazan, Sergius gave some students gifts brought from Athens, who without words expressed their good wishes about accepting monasticism. For some of them, it became a fait accompli that changed their entire subsequent lives. In 1897, fate again brought Sergius to Japan, this time as an assistant to the head of the mission. Here he is caught by pleasant news from Russia: on March 8, 1898, Evgenia Stragorodskaya is scheduled to be elevated to the rank of abbess of the Arzamas Alekseevsky Monastery. As a gift for his aunt, Sergius orders the painters in the mission workshop to handcraft a mother-of-pearl staff, lined with silver, with the image of Alexy, the man of God. When the staff was ready, the loving nephew sent it to Arzamas. This time Sergius stayed in Japan until the fall of 1899. His health did not allow him to stay long in the country that he had come to love deeply. The fact is that on the way to Japan the ship was caught in a severe storm, Sergius caught a cold and fell ill with inflammation of the middle ear. The consequences of this disease will accompany him throughout his life. Thus ended ten years of missionary service. Teacher, raise a student... Upon returning to St. Petersburg, Archimandrite Sergius was appointed rector of the St. Petersburg Theological Seminary. However, he did not have to work in this post, since on October 6, 1899, he was transferred to his alma mater, the St. Petersburg Theological Academy, to the position of inspector, while simultaneously providing him with the department of history and denunciation of Western confessions. The next six years of his life will be associated with the academy. A lot of work was devoted to educational, administrative and scientific work; improving the quality of teaching in such disciplines as literature, psychology; organizing and systematizing library and archive collections. At the same time, Sergius gives courses of lectures, reviews the scientific spiritual works of the academy's students, speaks in various audiences on theological and social problems; published in church magazines, actively participates in scientific, charitable and educational societies. Together with his father, the inspector brought some innovations to the academy. He made it a rule to hold tea parties on Saturdays after the all-night vigil and dinner, to which everyone from all courses was invited. Here, in the inspector’s chambers, in a simple homely atmosphere, student essays on religious and philosophical topics and on topics of modern fiction were read. Then there was a lively and relaxed discussion of what was heard. These “subbotniks” attracted a lot of students of all courses and undoubtedly had educational and, most importantly, educational significance. On January 24, 1901, by decree of the Holy Synod, Archimandrite Sergius was appointed to the position of rector of the academy. And two days later, on January 26, 1901, Nicholas II approved the decision of the Synod to elevate the rector to the rank of Bishop of Yamburg, third vicar of the St. Petersburg diocese, while remaining in the position of rector of the academy. The naming ceremony, which took place on February 23 in the Trinity Cathedral of the Alexander Nevsky Lavra, was led by the first member of the Synod, Metropolitan of St. Petersburg and Ladoga Anthony (Vadkovsky). Sergius, in his speech, addressing the venerable hierarchs of the church, spoke about the purpose of the episcopal ministry. It also contained the following words: “The external environment of episcopal service can be very diverse. Bishops can be in honor and wealth, they can enjoy extensive civil rights and advantages, but they can also be completely powerless, in poverty and even persecuted. All this depends on random and external reasons, on the state position of Christianity, on folk and social customs, etc. With a change in these external reasons, the external situation may also change. But the episcopal service itself in its essence, in the mood that is required of the bishop, always and everywhere remains the same apostolic service, whether it is performed in the great Constantinople or in the insignificant Sasima. It is the “ministry of reconciliation,” a pastoral ministry. To be a shepherd means to live not your own special life, but the life of the flock, to suffer from its illness, to bear its infirmities with the sole purpose: to serve its salvation, to die so that it lives. A true shepherd constantly, in his daily work, “lays down his life for the sheep,” renounces himself, his habits and comforts, his pride, and is ready to sacrifice his very life and even his soul for the sake of the Church of Christ, for the sake of the spiritual well-being of the verbal flock” 2. At that moment, the young bishop did not even imagine that fate had prepared for him precisely such life circumstances and would test his faithfulness in serving his flock. On Sunday, February 25, there, in the Alexander Nevsky Lavra, the consecration of the Right Reverend Sergius took place, performed by a council of nine hierarchs led by Metropolitan Anthony of St. Petersburg, in the presence of professors and students of the academy and in front of a huge crowd of worshippers. A rare case: the father of the dedicatee, Archpriest Nikolai Stragorodsky, was present at the consecration. Handing the bishop's staff to the newly ordained hierarch, Metropolitan Anthony spoke an edifying word, and at the end of the service, the new bishop spent a long time blessing the pilgrims who rushed to him. Upon arrival at the academy, Sergius was greeted “with glory” by all the academic clergy, professors and students. A short service took place. The touched young bishop thanked those gathered and assured them that in the significant event of his life there was a piece of cooperation from each of those gathered; expressed confidence that in the future there will be friendly joint work of all to serve the church and the higher theological school. The celebration ended with a general prayer for the strengthening of peace and the union of love in the church of theological science. At three o'clock in the afternoon, in the rector's chambers, congratulations to the newly ordained bishop from the professorial corporation took place, ending with a fraternal meal. There were many toasts, greetings, speeches, words of gratitude and good wishes, which, as a rule, ended in thunderous years. Everyone felt that the academy, in the person of the new rector, as its former student, had acquired not only a worthy head, but also a life-giving soul, as the newspapers wrote, “capable of infusing life into all its constituent members.” According to reviews and recollections of people who knew Sergius at the academy both as an inspector and as a rector, he was a kind and fair boss. The students greeted him with a purely fatherly attitude. During meetings, many students recalled the same picture: a gloomy St. Petersburg December morning... a student bedroom. Time to get up. The call has been ringing for a long time. The students get up and get dressed, but many are still asleep, snoring “in the arms of Morpheus.” Father Inspector appears, walking between the rows of student beds and, stopping near the sleeping ones, with his good-natured smile, lightly hits the sleepy ones with his rosary, saying: “It’s time, it’s time to get up!” Always even-tempered, free from outbursts of anger or irritation, with his encouraging simplicity and gentle, friendly words, Sergius Stragorodsky had a beneficial effect on student youth, educating them not only by word, but also by his personal example. The newly appointed bishop and rector of the academy received many congratulations from church and secular people. Sergius responded to each of those who wrote with a personal letter, trying to follow calligraphic patterns, overcoming his heavy and sometimes obscure handwriting when writing quickly. There were also greetings from some bishops he knew. Here are the response lines addressed to Bishop Arseny (Stadnitsky): “Christ is Risen! Your Eminence, Gracious Archpastor! I take this opportunity to thank you once again for your congratulations on your appointment as bishop and rector. For my part, I greet you on holy days and wish you all the best and success in everything.” This is how their friendships were born, which will bind them for the next few decades. The year 1901 in the life of Sergius Stragorodsky was also marked by sad events. A letter from his father arrived from his native Arzamas with the news of the death of his grandfather, Archpriest John of Stragorod, after a long illness. The envelope also contained a clipping from the Nizhny Novgorod Diocesan Gazette. The obituary reported that on May 31, the sounds of the large bell of the Resurrection Cathedral notified the townspeople of the death of the oldest shepherd of the Nizhny Novgorod diocese. His death was truly Christian: three times before his death he was granted communion of the Holy Mysteries of Christ. On the eve of his last day, he asked to read a prayer canon for the exodus of his soul. He listened attentively to the words of this touching church rite and constantly made the sign of the cross with reverence until his hand could no longer raise himself. At 7:27 pm Archpriest John rested peacefully. In the evening, the Stragorodsky house began to fill with people who wanted to say goodbye to the deceased. According to the will of the deceased and with the permission of the diocesan authorities, the Arzamas Alekseevsky Monastery was to become his resting place. Under the funeral ringing of bells, in front of a huge crowd of people, the body of the deceased was transferred from the house to the monastery, where the funeral service was held in the Ascension Cathedral of the monastery. Archpriest John was buried near the walls of the altar part of the cathedral. On the fortieth day, July 9, the grandson of the deceased, Sergius Stragorodsky, arrived in Arzamas. Together with twenty-two priests, Bishop Sergius celebrated the Divine Liturgy in the Ascension Cathedral of the Alekseevsky Monastery. At the end, all the clergy and worshipers proceeded to the grave of John of Stragorod. Here, Bishop Sergius performed a memorial service for his grandfather, who served in the priesthood for 72 years. It was not only a tribute to church traditions, but also an expression of love and respect for the elder of the Arzamas branch of the Stragorodsky family. According to family legends, John was born in 1807 in the village of Avtodeevo, Ardatovsky district, Nizhny Novgorod province, into the family of priest Dimitry Gerasimovich Zhuravlev. Soon, the parents of young Ivan and his brother Vasily died, and a relative, Stragorodskaya, took the children into the care. In 1822, upon entering the Nizhny Novgorod Theological Seminary, Ivan was registered under the name Stragorodsky. During these farewell days, Sergius somehow felt in a special way his family connection with his grandfather, after whom he was once named at baptism, and at the same time realized the burden of continuity of the church ministry of his ancestors, which now fell entirely on him. He stayed in Arzamas for several days, which were filled with meetings with family and friends, local clergy and secular society, and visits to places dear to him. It was as if he had a presentiment that it would not be long before circumstances would bring him back to his hometown. But the day of farewell has come... Nizhny Novgorod... Moscow... St. Petersburg is ahead. The fame of the young bishop extends beyond the walls of the academy and the borders of the St. Petersburg diocese. He is entrusted with the leadership of the synodal commission for dialogue with the Roman Catholic Church and Old Catholics. Especially the growth of Sergius's authority was facilitated by his participation in the work of the St. Petersburg Religious and Philosophical Assembly, which discussed the issue of religious freedom in Russia. This topic was vigorously discussed in various spheres of society. Even on the pages of such an odious Orthodox official publication as the Missionary Review, one can find an unexpected fact of assessment of the outgoing 19th century and the 20th century that is replacing it: “Some kind of painful arousal of religious and moral interest among all layers of our Russian society. Some kind of intense effort to understand issues of faith and life. And if for some these questions lead to closer communication with the only source of truth - the Church of Christ, then for others, dissatisfied with the modern religious and moral system and relying on their own mental and moral strength, they push them to pave new paths” 3. Indeed, in Russian society at the beginning of the 20th century, three points of view gradually emerged on the general situation in Russia with religious freedom. One - the official one - denied the existence of any restrictions in matters of faith in Russia, and it was defended by state and church circles. Both spoke about the “symphony” between the state and the Orthodox Church and the need to preserve existing state-church relations. The opinion of the Chief Prosecutor of the Holy Synod, K. P. Pobedonostsev, is indicative, who stated: “In Russia, as nowhere else, various confessions enjoy wide freedom, and laws protecting the dominant confession in Russia are necessary, since this is the most important historical duty of Russia, the need of its life.” This position had its “guardians” among the extreme political forces - the Black Hundreds, nationalists. For example, Moskovskie Vedomosti argued that the church “sacrificed itself” by agreeing to the state establishing the framework of a solid socio-political system based on an alliance with the church, and that “to wish for an end to our union of the state with the church is to wish for a revolution that would be terrible in its consequences.” And the well-known ideologist of the Black Hundreds, Archpriest John Vostorgov, who in principle denied the rights of “foreigners” to religious freedom, wrote: “The consciousness of the simple benefit of the state should tell us how dangerous, how disastrous it is to strengthen the sea of ​​Islam, how dangerous it is to have subjects ossified in paganism who are not connected with the state and the dominant nationality by any spiritual ties” 4. True, even in the Orthodox community there were sometimes critical statements about the existing order of relations between the state and the Orthodox Church, and the need for reforms in the sphere of state-church relations was recognized. This, for example, was stated by professor of the Kazan Theological Academy I. Berdnikov, speaking at the annual meeting of the academy in 1888. He developed the ideas of abolishing the status of the state church and religion, the need to recognize religion as a private matter of subjects, the legal equality of religious associations and the “desacralization” of the state and the “denationalization” of the Orthodox Church. Later, his speech was published as a separate brochure, and many participants in the liberation movement subsequently relied on the ideas contained in it 5 . The second point of view, which was shared predominantly by the liberal Orthodox clergy, was a “combination of the incongruous”: theoretically, “constraints” in matters of faith were condemned, but the expediency of their existence in practice was recognized for the “benefit” of the subjects, for the masses who were in a “childish state.” In one of his sermons, Archbishop Anthony (Khrapovitsky) of Volyn, justifying the need for “pedagogical intervention” of the state in protecting the church from “false teachings,” said: “If our flock were announced in the truths of their faith, then it would be possible to leave it to themselves. But our state, carried away in the time of Peter and after by the goals of purely external culture and state centralization, narrowed, depersonalized and even half eclipsed the religious consciousness and religious life of the Orthodox people... Therefore, having taken the people's conscience into its hands... the state, while remaining consistent, must protect the Orthodox people from deception, blackmail, economic and physical violence of infidels" 6 . Obviously, we can say that the then ideas and views of Sergius of Stragorodsky fit well into the position of the so-called liberal clergy, which, of course, included people close to Sergius - Metropolitan Anthony of Vadkovsky, Archbishop Anthony of Volyn, a number of teachers and professors of the St. Petersburg Theological Academy. The third point of view was professed by representatives of liberal non-church circles, “tolerant” and “persecuted” religions, and the social democratic movement. They declared the absence of freedom of conscience in Russia and state violence against the beliefs of Russian citizens. Inheriting in many respects the tradition coming from the 19th century to see in the church and clergy “only a police institution for suppressing popular aspirations and maintaining autocracy,” they considered the union of the church and the state as a manifestation of the “reactionary” and “anti-nationality” of the church institution, refusing it public support. In general, we can say that they linked changes in the sphere of state-church relations with general political reforms. They believed that Russia had outgrown the form of the existing system and should develop along the path to a legal system, with a rule of law state and ensuring civil rights and freedoms, including freedom of conscience. Evidence of this can be found, for example, in uncensored letters from Leo Tolstoy to Emperor Nicholas II. He openly wrote to the Tsar about the cruel persecution of all those who did not profess Orthodoxy. In one of them, dating back to January 1902, the writer directly linked the possibility of transformation in religious matters with the need for fundamental political changes in the country: “Autocracy is an outdated form of government that can meet the requirements of the people somewhere in Central Africa, separated from the whole world, but not the requirements of the Russian people, who are more and more enlightened by the enlightenment common to the whole world. And therefore, it is possible to support this form of government and the Orthodoxy associated with it only, as is being done now, through all sorts of violence: increased security, administrative exile, executions, religious persecution, banning books, newspapers, perversion of education, and in general all kinds of bad and cruel deeds” 7 . No matter how hard official propaganda and the Orthodox hierarchy tried, it was impossible to hide the fact of the bankruptcy of state church policy. The most striking example of this was the speech in September 1901 at the Oryol missionary congress of the provincial leader of the nobility M. A. Stakhovich. Unexpectedly for many, almost at the very end of the congress, he made a sharp protest against religious persecution and proposed to discuss at the congress the issue of freedom of conscience, which he understood as “the freedom to believe, to believe differently, or not to believe at all.” Stakhovich said: “The law of civil life, instead of protecting the Church, only corrupts its spiritual laziness. If the Church believes in its inner spiritual power, then it does not need the assistance of earthly power. If there is a need, then doesn’t this demonstrate a lack of boldness of faith?.. In the name of the Church, it is necessary to express that violence against conscience is unconscionable, that where there is no freedom, there is no sincerity, there is no right and wrong faith. The Church can say that the area of ​​conscience and faith is its area. She alone has power in it. She can say to Caesar: "Leave it, this is not yours, this is God's in eternity, this is mine on earth! I alone have been given the power to bind and loose, given without the right of delegation to prosecutors and judges. I alone can judge with the living and life-giving principle of love" 8 . This speech served as an impetus for a public discussion of the problems of freedom of conscience in Russian society: some sharply protested, others saw a rational grain in it and welcomed it. It also affected the position of the church, which realized the need to establish relations with an educated society. In November 1901, a group of the capital's clergy and professors of the St. Petersburg Academy, with the permission and support of Metropolitan Anthony of St. Petersburg and Chief Prosecutor K. P. Pobedonostsev and under the leadership of the rector of the St. Petersburg Theological Academy, Bishop Sergius (Stragorodsky), organized religious and philosophical interviews. ...The first meeting took place on November 29, 1901 in St. Petersburg, in the premises of the Geographical Society on the Fontanka. The narrow, corridor-like hall was packed to capacity. At the presidium table, on the right side, there were people in robes and hoods. The participants from the church side were not entirely homogeneous in their mentality: here were the strict ascetic Archimandrite Feofan (Bistrov), the venerable protopresbyter I. Yanyshev, but also the “church rebels” - Bishop Antonin (Granovsky) and Archimandrite Mikhail (Semyonov). On the left side sat secular, mostly young people, who were already the rulers of the thoughts of the society of that time: the sophisticated decadent poet Nikolai Minsky, the famous writer Dmitry Merezhkovsky, the extravagant philosopher-publicist Vasily Rozanov, as well as representatives of the theatrical bohemia G. Diaghilev, A. Benois and the peculiar thinkers who then spoke of “neo-Christianity” - Sergei Bulgakov and Nikolai Berdyaev, who became such in the future - Anton Kartashov, Pavel Florensky. In the hall are students and professors, writers and artists, journalists and musicians, and simply a curious public. The chairman, Bishop Sergius of Stragorod, had a difficult task: to pursue his clear and precise line and not allow himself to be confused in the chaos of conflicting opinions, passionate, emotional cries, sometimes turning into sharp mutual accusations and even personal insults. There is an upbeat atmosphere in the hall. Mixed with it is a feeling of surprise and joy that the figure of the bailiff, who previously had the sole right to interrupt speakers at his discretion and stop public meetings, is not looming near the podium, a feeling of involvement in an important and extraordinary event. Sergius immediately, in his introductory speech, defined the purpose of the meetings and the attitude towards them on the part of the church as follows: “I come here with a very definite physiognomy, I am a minister of the church and I do not intend to hide or change this quality of mine. On the contrary, my most sincere desire is to be here not in a cassock, but in fact as a minister of the church, a faithful exponent of its confession. I would consider myself to have acted against my conscience if, even a little, I deviated from this because of some kind of servility or out of a falsely calculated desire for peace... We will achieve real, serious, truly lasting unity only if we speak out to each other, so that everyone can see with whom he is dealing, what he can accept and what he cannot” 9 . Among the first was the report of V. A. Ternavtsev, which revealed the meaning of the attempt to start a dialogue between the church and society: eliminating the “silent disintegration between the church and the intelligentsia,” for this is what gives Russia a chance to overcome the internal crisis experienced by the country and contribute to the “revival of Russia,” which only can be thought of and realized as a religious revival. The position of the intelligentsia regarding public opinion on the essence and forms of freedom of conscience was outlined in the report of Prince S. M. Volkonsky. He stated: “The introduction of the principle of statehood into the Church is contrary to the meaning of the Church: the principles of the state are isolation, the principle of the Church is unification. Violence and coercion in matters of faith are contrary to the spirit of Christianity. The Church, into whose bosom one can enter, but from which it is forbidden to leave, atrophies its internal organic strength. The obligation to profess the dominant religion has a weakening effect on the public conscience. Freedom of conscience is needed for the improvement of conscience at all levels of society” 10. At three meetings (7th, 8th and 9th) of the Religious and Philosophical Assembly, the issue of freedom of conscience was enthusiastically discussed. The severity of the controversy prompted Bishop Sergius to express his attitude to directly posed questions - whether Christianity recognizes freedom of conscience, whether the church needs the support of the state, whether there should be a separation of church and state - just as openly. In his opinion, if Christ allowed freedom of conscience, then his church, considering itself the heir to the covenants of Christ, does not see the need and any sense in all sorts of means of coercion in the spiritual sphere. But Sergius also noted that the law on freedom of conscience in practice could also have some negative consequences. Weak souls, not strong in faith, will be open to attack from all sides, and many of them may be tempted. Answering the question whether the church needs the support of the state, Sergius, following Metropolitan Philaret (Drozdov) of Moscow, emphasized that the church prays for the state not for the sake of support from it, not for reasons of its own benefit, but does it in the name of duty, as called to pray for the well-being of the earthly world. That is why, he added, the burden of any nationalist and similar mission should be removed from the church, since these are all exclusively state issues, and the state should refuse to “use” the church as a “tool in its own favor.” In fact, of all the spiritual participants in the meeting, Bishop Sergius took the most radical position, recognizing in principle freedom of conscience and the need for separation of church and state in the sense that the church is given the opportunity for independent development. The conversation about these and other problems continued until April 1903, until the all-powerful Chief Prosecutor of the Synod, K.P. Pobedonostsev, saw sedition here too, after which he banned the meetings. At the end of the last (11th) meeting before the summer holidays, the meeting participants, in a special address to the chairman, assessed his role as follows: “The founding members of the religious and philosophical meetings cannot help but turn to their chairman, Bishop Sergius, with a feeling of warm gratitude. The spirit of the shepherd rested on the flock and determined the happy and completely unexpected success of the meetings. They gathered with doubts and did not know whether it would be possible and whether it would be necessary to gather after two or three meetings of the clergy and society. Nothing was expected except bewilderment, irritation, misunderstanding... But the good spirit of the shepherd created everything, and after the second meeting the entire literary part of the meeting decided that the matter was established, that it was strong... Attention was created, the most zealous curiosity was born in everyone for the matter, for the discussion of issues, and thus a distinctive atmosphere for a sincere exchange of opinions was born. Bishop Sergius brought good weather from his soul to our meetings” 11. One can cite the curious impression of another participant, the writer Vasily Rozanov, who noted: “Bishop Sergius (Stragorodsky) was very loved and respected. He was simple, sweet, and a friend to everyone. I think with the “cunning” there are very quiet people. But this is my guess. He was truly beautiful to look at” 12. The meeting lasted for about a year and a half, and in general, neither side received complete satisfaction. To put it figuratively: no connective tissue was formed between the church and the intelligentsia; the vectors of their theological, canonical and worldview quests turned out to be too different, and during the discussions, the commonality was not so much identified as the number of questions to which each side gave different, incompatible answers grew. But even the opponents of Bishop Sergius recognized his merits in bringing the intelligentsia and the church closer together. It is not for nothing that, years later, renovationist professor B.V. Titlinov testified in his memoirs: “He was neither an extreme reactionary, nor an intriguer, nor an enemy of the public. On the contrary, he occupied a prominent place in that group of clergy that sought rapprochement with the intelligentsia, and played a prominent role in those attempts at rapprochement that were made in 1900–1902 and the arena of which was the Religious and Philosophical Society in St. Petersburg. Let’s say that representatives of the intelligentsia did not find a “common language” with the clergy and both sides parted ways without achieving anything. Nevertheless, Sergius’s personality stood out very favorably at that time, and he enjoyed well-deserved sympathy in society, secular and spiritual. Metropolitan Anthony (Vadkovsky) patronized him and was loved in the academic community” 13. The rectorship of Bishop Sergius came at a “time of change” in Russian society. The Academy was not isolated from the outside world, and students responded keenly to developing socio-political events. At a prayer service on October 7, 1904 in the Academic Church before the start of the new academic year, Sergius specifically drew attention to the events of the Russo-Japanese War. He told his students: “This year begins for us in a somewhat unusual environment. Together with our entire Fatherland, we are going through a time of difficult trials, a time of violation of our most cherished illusions, which hitherto feed our national self-esteem and lull our social vigor. Everywhere now there are calls for awakening, for rise, for renewal, but next to them there are also other alarming voices that point to signs of national decay that has already begun... It would be good if the trial that befell us awakened us from spiritual sleep and if the call for renewal did not turn out to be late and in vain” 14. Sergius appealed to the patriotic feelings of students, to awakening in them aspirations for the ideals of serving others, the common good, and the pursuit of truth, goodness and beauty. He called for kindling in oneself religious and scientific enthusiasm, interest in theological school and the knowledge acquired here. Of course, not only the students needed the attention of the rector, but also the teaching corporation, which discussed the issues of reorganizing the theological school and the autonomy of the academy. Moreover, among the teachers there were many rebellious “young forces” - Hieromonk Mikhail (Semyonov), who later converted to the Old Believers, Boris Titlinov, who later became a major renovationist figure, and others. Along with the inglorious war with Japan, strikes and walkouts in cities and peasant riots became commonplace. The horror of Bloody Sunday on January 9, 1905 shocked Russia. Sergius himself responded to this tragic event with a Word ending like this: “No one needed this blood. But it still spilled! Something incongruous, something regrettable and disgusting to everyone, something terrible happened. It’s just that God’s punishment fell upon us in order to add this bloody stain to the disasters and failures of the external war” 15. Everything indicated that Russia was sliding into the abyss of social catastrophe. And in church circles they started talking about reforms, the Local Council, and the restoration of the patriarchate. And this is quite understandable, because it was no longer possible not to notice the arbitrariness and dictatorship, persecution and persecution that was happening in the spiritual sphere. The prominent Russian lawyer M. Reisner, reflecting in these years on the “law and order” in relation to various religious organizations by the authorities and on the arbitrariness and administrative dictatorship that reigned everywhere, wrote: “Mohammedans, pagans, Catholics and sectarians are considered Orthodox and are tried for falling away from Orthodoxy. Laws of some tolerance for schismatics and sectarians are issued, and the police abolish them with their own power. Priests inform and spy, persecute heretics in the name of Christ, hand over their neighbors to torture and execution. International treaties are concluded with the curia and are not implemented. Millions of Muslims are completely deprived of any legislative protection and are being sacrificed to the unlimited discretion of local authorities. What is it? How is all this possible in a well-organized state? Where are we? In a cultural European country or in Central Asia? In a Christian state or among the hordes of Mohammed? A police force that operates outside of any solid norms and rules, tramples under foot the laws of the country, and resolves the most important issues in the life of a multi-million people according to the formula: if I want, I’ll execute you, if I want, I’ll love you” 16 . Under the leadership of the Chairman of the Committee of Ministers S. Yu. Witte, during January - March, participants in the Special Meeting discussed the content and direction of religious reform, recognizing the need for the speedy adoption of a special decree dedicated to strengthening religious freedom in Russia. The leading member of the Holy Synod, Metropolitan Anthony (Vadkovsky) of St. Petersburg, was involved in the development of the decree. He did not object to the expansion of the rights and freedoms of Old Believer, sectarian and heterodox organizations and societies, but believed that this would entail a “derogation” of the interests and rights of the Orthodox Church, and therefore proposed to consider the position of the Orthodox Church. The note he submitted, entitled “Questions about desirable transformations and the establishment of the Orthodox Church in our country,” proposed weakening the “too vigilant control of secular power,” allowing the free acquisition of property for the needs of Orthodox societies, and “allowing” the participation of hierarchs in the State Council and the Committee of Ministers. Both these and other measures he proposed were supposed to, by giving “freedom” to the church, strengthen its alliance with the state 17. S. Yu. Witte did not like the metropolitan’s note. In an effort to clarify as much as possible the government’s position regarding both the nature and limits of church reforms and the steps expected from the church, he compiled and submitted his note “On the current situation of the Orthodox Church” to the discussion of the meeting. It bluntly proposed that the church free itself from such inherent “vices” as “the lethargy of internal church life,” the “decline” of the parish, the “alienation” of parishioners from the priests, and the bureaucracy of church administration. Particularly emphasized was the unpreparedness of the Orthodox clergy to combat “mental and moral currents of modern culture unfavorable to the church,” while the state needs from the clergy “conscious, deeply thought-out protection of its interests.” True, in the government camp and among the Orthodox hierarchy there were many who denied the need to expand religious freedoms and tried in every possible way to stop the progress of religious reforms. One of them was the Chief Prosecutor of the Holy Synod, K. P. Pobedonostsev. In his memoirs, Witte wrote: “When they began to discuss questions of religious tolerance, K.P. Pobedonostsev, having once come to the meeting and seeing that Metropolitan Anthony was expressing some opinions that ran counter to the idea of ​​the police-Orthodox Church, which he, Pobedonostsev, had cultivated for twenty-five years as Chief Prosecutor of the Holy Synod, completely stopped going to the Committee and began to send his comrade Sabler" 18. Witte not only did not deny the significance of the union of church and state, but believed that both sides were vitally interested in it. But it was necessary, in his opinion, to change the conditions of this union so as not to weaken the initiative of either the church or the state body. And if for the state this meant reforming the legal basis of state-church relations, then for the church it meant reforms of its internal life, the content and nature of which had to be discussed and adopted at the Local Council. The Chief Prosecutor expressed his position in the note “Considerations of State Secretary Pobedonostsev on the issues of desirable changes in the organization of our Orthodox Church.” Entering into polemics with Witte and Metropolitan Anthony, he rejected all proposals for reforms put forward by them on the grounds that their implementation would entail not “renewal,” but the destruction of the union of church and state, which is tantamount to death for both the first and the second. Within the walls of the St. Petersburg Academy, issues of freedom of conscience were also actively and almost loudly discussed. There were those who expected from the announcement of religious tolerance “benefits and usefulness” for the Russian Church, but also those who saw in this only new “troubles” for Church-Orthodox activity. In order to convince some and encourage others, Sergius, on the day the academy was founded, February 17, 1905, made a speech regarding the upcoming announcement of a decree on religious tolerance. He noted that the time of “centuries of peaceful stay behind the strong wall of state protection” is ending and in new conditions “on the field of spiritual battle” each of the members of the church, and especially in the priesthood, will have to “with blood from their own breasts” defend and instill faith in the hearts and souls of believers, inspire them to fight “the temptations of false knowledge.” As people close to Sergius testify, it was unusual for him to talk and discuss the “damned issues of our time,” as they say, for show, in public. But that doesn't mean they didn't worry him. No, he constantly thought and reflected about them. As Metropolitan Veniamin (Fedchenkov) recalled in his declining years, “it used to be that we would walk around the hall after dinner, and he, thinking something, would quietly say in response to his thoughts: “But God’s world still stands... And God’s world still stands... Governments change, but he stands... Political systems change, he stands again. There will be wars, revolutions, but he still stands." 19 It is likely that it was during these revolutionary years that Sergius was born both as an assumption and as confidence, a thought that can be expressed in the phrase: “The Russian Empire can be swept away, but the Church cannot perish!” In this regard, the judgment of such an experienced statesman and church figure as V.K. looks very curious. Sabler, expressed by him in the early 1920s: “Apparently, it would be better for the Orthodox Russian Church if, at the Council of 1917–1918, the then Vladimir Metropolitan Sergius (Stragorodsky) were elected patriarch instead of His Holiness Tikhon” 20. The notes of Anthony, Witte and Pobedonostsev were supposed to be specially discussed at one of the meetings of the Committee of Ministers in order to finally approve the program of religious reforms. But on the eve of the meeting, Pobedonostsev informed Witte that the emperor had ordered that the issue of church reform be removed from the jurisdiction of the Committee of Ministers and transferred for consideration to the Synod. Pobedonostsev’s demarche, supported by his panicked letters to Nicholas II, did its job: in fact, the authorities were removed from the opportunity to influence the course of the proposed reforms, which now remained exclusively under the hands of the chief prosecutor. But the almighty chief prosecutor soon had to experience disappointment. Unexpectedly for him, the Synod in March 1905, in a special note addressed to the Tsar, requested permission to hold a Local Council to elect a Patriarch and resolve pressing internal church problems. At Pobedonostsev’s prompting, Nikolai rejected the proposal for a Council until a “favorable time.” The struggle in the government camp and among the Orthodox hierarchy around religious reforms, although it made it difficult to develop a decree on religious tolerance, but could not stop it. On April 17, 1905, on the day of Orthodox Easter, the decree was published in the Government Gazette. For its time, this was a huge step forward in the development of Russian “religious legislation.” As S. Yu. Witte characterized the decree, it “represents acts that can be temporarily not executed, can be cursed, but which no one can destroy. They are, as it were, engraved in the hearts and minds of the vast majority of the population that makes up great Russia” 21. For the first time, the transition from Orthodoxy to another Christian faith was recognized as legally possible and not punishable; The position of the “schismatics” was eased: the Old Believers were allowed to build churches and chapels, and open schools. Conditions for the construction and repair of religious buildings were made easier for Catholics and Muslims. Freedom of worship and teaching in theological schools in the native language of believers was proclaimed, etc. Another concession to the reformist forces on the part of the royal court was the resignation of the long-term chief prosecutor of the Holy Synod, K. P. Pobedonostsev, with whose name was associated the unfreedom of the church, “chains chained to the autocracy.” However, in Church-Orthodox circles there was no unanimity regarding the declared freedom of religious tolerance. Orthodox hierarchs viewed the decree as an “attack” on the rights of the dominant church and “humiliation” of it in front of other faiths. Addressing the diocesan bishops in a closed letter, Metropolitan Anthony (Vadkovsky) outlined the prospects for the activity of the Orthodox Church in the new conditions as follows: “The new law, therefore, for all of us Orthodox will serve as a test of the strength of our faith, the firmness of its confession and unfeigned devotion to the Orthodox Church. It is possible to think that hitherto many were kept in the Church by external restrictions. Now there are no longer such barriers keeping those weak by faith within the church fence. Now only the word of pastoral admonition and persuasion can keep them in it. What a great test of our pastoral zeal! <...> We cannot close our eyes to the intense activity of the enemies of the Orthodox Church. In some places they have already begun to wage an intensified and open struggle against her, trying through appeals, conspiracies, threats and even violence to tear away as many of her children as possible from her, despite the fact that the Basic Law, which prohibits inducing the Orthodox to apostate, remains in force at the present time” 22. A representative of the conservative-protective wing in the Russian Church, I. Aivazov, noted: “On April 17, 1905, the Russian state switched to the path of the Western European or so-called “new state”... The latter... declares itself non-confessional, alien to the interests of any denomination. It provides each faith with complete freedom of action, as long as the interests of the state itself are not violated... Having separated the state from the church, the “new state”, under the banner of freedom of conscience, declares complete freedom for everyone to profess their faith and perform divine services and spiritual demands according to its rituals, complete freedom to move from one religion to another, complete freedom of religious propaganda and seduction, and, finally, complete freedom for everyone to be outside any denomination or freedom of atheism” 23. Indeed, after the publication of the decree, a massive falling away of people from the state church began. Hundreds of thousands of subjects of the empire, who had previously been forcibly converted to Orthodoxy, switched, as the famous public figure E. N. Trubetskoy wrote in one of his articles, to “Catholicism, Protestantism, to all kinds of schismatic sects and even to Islam.” And the reason for this, in his opinion, was not the proselytism of heterodox and heterodox religious associations, but the fact that “the image of the church has faded and become dead in the minds of our hierarchs themselves. For pastors who see the condition for the salvation of Orthodoxy in keeping their flock in the church by violent means, it has ceased to be the living body of Christ and has turned into a dead external mechanism” 24. During the period of the first Russian revolution, the Church also had to face a new phenomenon: mass demands to give state compulsory education a secular character, to expand the influence of the zemstvo and the public on the nature and content of teaching in non-state schools, to reduce state funding for parochial schools. It is significant that the founding congress of the All-Russian Peasant Union, which met in the summer of 1905, demanded that all schools be secular, and the teaching of the Law of God be recognized as optional and left to the “discretion of parents.” In a number of provinces, the boycott of parochial schools became widespread. Often the population took away local primary educational institutions from the clergy and transferred them to the zemstvo, and the teaching of the Law of God was abruptly abolished. The Orthodox clergy avoided any public criticism of the theological school, but this did not mean that they were unaware of its shortcomings. For example, in one of the letters to Archbishop Arseny (Stadnitsky), the future Patriarch Alexy (Simansky), who worked in church educational institutions for more than ten years, wrote: “The weakness of the former theological school was that it had a dual task. It was a class school; she had the task of providing the opportunity for the clergy - a class, in general, the poor - to provide upbringing and education to their children on a preferential basis; Its other task was to create a cadre of future clergy. It is clear that not every son of a priest, or a deacon, or a psalm-reader had an inclination for pastoral service... and from this it turned out that such forced children of theological educational institutions introduced into them a spirit alien to churchliness, a worldly spirit, and lowered the tone of their church mood.” Be that as it may, revolutionary sentiments in society also overwhelmed religious educational institutions. Protests, strikes, clashes with the administration and teachers, pogroms swept through almost all Russian seminaries and even took place in theological academies. This unprecedented case was reported by both reputable newspapers and rags filled with gossip and rumors. Here is just one example of such information: “Major riots occurred at the seminary in Kyiv at night. The seminary is closed. The seminarians were asked to leave the building in two days. The Bethany Theological Seminary in Sergiev Posad is closed. Misunderstandings arose due to the reluctance of students to comply with the introduction of transfer exams. In Tambov, at 9 pm, the rector of the seminary, Archimandrite Semion, returning after the all-night vigil, was seriously wounded by a revolver shot in the back. In Moscow, by order of the Metropolitan, the seminary was closed. In Saratov, meetings were held at the seminary on the issue of boycotting exams. In Ryazan, police were brought into the seminary building. In Nizhny Novgorod, a firecracker was exploded in the seminary building, as a result of which the glass on the second floor of the building was broken and the ceiling collapsed.” ...Student unrest also reached the St. Petersburg Theological Academy. The student body split: the majority, following the example of secular schools, demanded a boycott of lectures. A minority of students spoke out in favor of continuing classes and even tried to resist the majority, making up pairs of students on duty who alternately went to classes, and since professors traditionally gave lectures in front of two or three students, the appearance of order was maintained and the lectures continued. Neither group gave up, and the situation became threatening. The administration of the academy, led by the rector Bishop Sergius, announced that if the demonstrations did not stop, the instigators would be fired and sent home, and the minority would be dealt with. At the decisive hour, the bishop ordered a general student meeting... The assembly hall was buzzing with shouts and speeches; here and there groups formed, chanting: “Strike! Strike!" The most united group of 20–30 students moved to the podium, and everyone understood, slowly sitting down and calming down, that these were the main ones, they would announce the meeting, they would decide the fate of the academy. Student Ivan Smirnov, a Socialist-Revolutionary by political convictions, came to the department and was elected chairman. There was a tense silence. But before Smirnov had time to begin his speech, a calm and confident rector quickly entered the hall - tall, broad-shouldered, with a long black beard, wearing a hood. He approaches the pulpit, and there is Smirnov. “I have been elected chairman of the meeting,” he told the rector quite confidently. – And we will now discuss our demands, and then present them to you. If you refuse them to us, we,” the speaker gestured broadly around the hall, “will leave the academy and join our brothers on the streets. But something completely unexpected happened. The always even-tempered and amiable Bishop Sergius behaved completely differently this time. He easily pushed Smirnov aside and, hitting the pulpit with his powerful fist, shouted angrily and imperiously: - I am! I'm the chairman here! The students instantly became silent. The authorities showed their strength. Then Sergius made a calm and businesslike speech, proposing to end the strike. He left, and the students almost unanimously decided to continue classes. But still, for the sake of caution, now by the decision of the rector, classes at the academy were temporarily stopped. Patriarch Sergius and his spiritual heritage. M., 1947. pp. 207–209. Church Gazette. 1901. No. 9. P. 312, 313. Missionary Review. 1900. No. 1. P. 118, 119. Additions to the Church Gazette. 1908. No. 2. P. 47–52. See: Berdnikov I. The new state in its relation to religion: On the issue of freedom of conscience. Kazan, 1904. Additions to the Church Gazette. 1906. No. 26. P. 2095. Published: The Past. 1917. No. 1. P. 17, 18. Quote by: Rozhkov V., archpriest. Church issues in the State Duma. M., 2004. S. 29, 30. Notes of St. Petersburg religious and philosophical meetings. 1902–1903. St. Petersburg, 1906. S. 3, 4. Quote from: Red Archive. M.; L., 1932. T. 2. P. 43. Patriarch Sergius and his spiritual heritage. M., 1947. S. 26, 27. Rozanov V.V. When the bosses left... M., 1997. P. 497. Titlinov B.V. The Church during the Revolution. Pg., 1924. P. 42. Patriarch Sergius and his spiritual heritage. M., 1947. S. 27, 28. Church newsletter. 1905. No. 2. P. 33, 34. Reisner M. The State and the Believing Personality: Collection. St. Petersburg, 1905. P. 397. See: Historical correspondence about the fate of the Orthodox Church. M., 1912. S. 7–25. Witte S. Yu. Memoirs, memoirs. M., 2002. T. 1. P. 515. Veniamin (Fedchenkov), Metropolitan. At the turn of two eras. M., 1994. P. 164. Patriarch Tikhon and the history of the Russian Church Troubles / Comp. M. E. Gubonin. St. Petersburg, 1994. Book. 1. pp. 39, 40. Witte S. Yu. Memoirs, memoirs. M., 2002. T. 1. P. 517. GA RF. F. 550. Op. 1. D. 28. L. 1, vol. Aivazov I. New religious system of the Russian state. M., 1908. S. 4–7. See: E. N. Trubetskoy, Church and Theological School // Moscow Weekly. 1910. No. 2. P. 3, 4.