July 8

More than once I was able to be tonsured in the Lavra. Once an old man was tonsured in front of us... Not much remained in my memory, except for the conviction: it is better to do it in youth, when there is still something ahead (at least according to human ideas), you can promise something. When the whole life is lived... However, there may be one remarkable exception: if a person has consciously walked and prepared for this all his life. But now, putting aside all considerations, we are just waiting in front of the Trinity Cathedral, looking at both the cathedral and the square. The evening service on the eve of the feast of the Tikhvin Icon of the Mother of God gathered the faithful in the church. People usually don't talk about tonsure (or even close the doors, not wanting to let them in), but we know that Yura Kh. is expecting his celebration that evening. "The church is closed," says the old man at the entrance to the cathedral, letting the choir and priests pass. Who should I ask to say a word about us so that they let us through? We try to address this to Father Hilarion. He calmly and affably invites you to come in. And here we are in an almost empty cathedral. Very unusual. The cathedral does not seem lifeless even without people (that is, pilgrims, always moving to the Venerable). In the middle of the carpet, there is no fence, except for a thin cord marking the space prepared for tonsure. Only two cleaners sweep the last specks of dust off the carpet. The fathers go into the altar or occupy stasidia in the corners. We also stand in stasidia so as not to loom before the watchman's eyes and not to expose ourselves to the danger of being outside the door. How good, incomparably good in the cathedral at such moments! Unnoticed, everyone gathered, left the altar and quietly, slowly and majestically went downstairs. Usually, the person waiting for tonsure is either in the Nikon Church or in the Serapion Chamber. The choir sang "Embrace of the Father..." Very quiet and very coordinated. I wonder how many times I have heard these words and these sounds, and they always sound different! Does it depend on the composition of the choir or the choir director? Or for what other reasons? This time it was extremely good. They sang so quietly and at the same time expressively, as if the sounds, bypassing everyone and everything, poured from the heart and rose above the world. It seemed that there was nothing in the world but the soul praying for the opening of these embraces, and the Father silently and invitingly opening them. An amazing feeling that everything around has disappeared, all the noises of the earth have subsided, strangers have left. True, it was unusually quiet in the church. We were tonsured more than once, and they always took place in different ways. There were solemn and ordinary, there were majestic and so modest that it was somehow clear, I think, to everyone: something very important was missing. There were also those who, as it were, communed all those present with the sacrament (although tonsure is not counted among them, but by its power is experienced by many as a sacrament that opens the entrance to a different relationship with everyone and with everything). Father Benedict CXXIII, who tonsured Yura, read what was prescribed, called him Philaret, clothed him "in full armor," handed him to Father Hilarion, congratulated him, and even said a word. I don't remember what exactly I said, but it's not such a loss. The main impression of this evening is a rare concentration, the complete absence of any fuss, silence. Reverent, undisturbed. Even when it was all over, someone entered, somewhere the keys rattled, this silence did not immediately recede. Like a veil, it fenced off from everything that was "out there", beyond the invisible boundaries, as if descended from heaven to our earth, that special composure that excludes everything superfluous. It is not for nothing that they say: "Silence is the mystery of the age to come." Silence not only from the lips, silence with the most concentrated attention necessary for prayer.

It was all over, but I didn't want to leave. And thank God, no one prevented me from being silent. I remembered a legend, hardly recorded anywhere, that on the day of the celebration of the Tikhvin Icon of the Mother of God, people are given special consolation—the soul softens, calms down, sighing with relief, gratitude and joy. And so it was then.

On one of the weekdays

(at the grave of St. Maximus the Greek)

July 4, 1996

July 4, 1996, 15.40. Over the Lavra there is a measured festive bell. In honor of what? It is too early in time to announce the good news for the Vigil... Everyone who happened to be nearby reached out to the Church of the Holy Spirit. On the north side, it is fenced, the bars blocked the path leading to the Trinity Cathedral. We have to go around the Church of the Holy Spirit from the south side. In the northern one there is a large deep excavation. Now there are repairs, construction, restoration everywhere... Nothing surprises anyone, but the ringing, the crowd at the bars, the golden glare on the banners, the fresh gold of the backgrounds of the newly painted icons in the hands of the clergy who came out to the doors of the church... Without explanation, this suggests that something unusual is coming. The ringing poured down on us non-stop. We squinted in the sun, rejoicing in the warmth that replaced the cold gray days. Light clouds in a light blue sky. The ringing intensified. A car drove up, the Patriarch got out of it and went to the Trinity Cathedral. A path and a carpet were taken out of the Church of the Holy Spirit for him, quickly spread out, freeing up a wide passage. There are not so many people, everyone stands quietly, does not rush anywhere. The Patriarch went to the Church of the Holy Spirit, blessing with a general blessing. The police are ahead. This accompaniment, wedged into the service, is somehow unpleasant. The Patriarch, together with the clergy waiting for him (Bishop Alexis of Orekhovo-Zuevsky had also arrived) went to the excavation. There, a black coffin was placed on a stretcher and everything that remained of the burial was put in it, together with earth, covered with a simple, black, crossed veil and brought to the Church of the Holy Spirit. How many years have passed since the funeral of the Athonite monk Maxim – he died in 1556! The Church of the Holy Spirit had side chapels. One in honor of Philaret the Merciful is at the southern wall. The other was called "Maxim's Tent". It is at the northern wall. Under it was buried the Monk Maximus the Greek.

Very soon after the death of the Monk Maximus, he began to be venerated among the locally venerated saints.

In Soviet times, even before the Second World War, the side chapels were broken, and we, without knowing it, walked over the graves of St. Maximus and St. Philaret. Last year, the flooring was removed, an excavation was made and the remaining bones were collected. They were piled together, apparently in a hurry, after the desecration of the graves. According to the stories of an old cleaning lady who was an eyewitness to what was happening, the head of the museum in the pre-war period ordered to open the coffin of Metropolitan Philaret and others buried nearby. He hoped to find gold and jewelry. The cypress coffin of the saint was opened with a crowbar. No gold, no jewelry... The director was furious, having made sure that the other people buried nearby, and these were the Venerable Archimandrite Anthony (Medvedev) CXXV and St. Innocent CXXVI, had nothing of value, ordered everything to be burned and threatened not to divulge it. Something prevented them from burning, then it was ordered to dig a hole and bury everything, which they did. When the question arose about the canonization of Metropolitan Philaret, in the excavation the monks of the Lavra laid out the bones according to their belongings, gathering the skeleton of Metropolitan Philaret, and St. Innocent, and Archimandrite Anthony, the long-time abbot of the Lavra under Metropolitan Philaret. A specialist was called to confirm the correctness of the decision CXXVII. Metropolitans Philaret and Innocent had reliquaries made, and now everyone can venerate the venerated hierarchs. In summer, the reliquaries stand in the Assumption Cathedral, in winter - in the Refectory Church. Now it is planned to open access to the Church of the Holy Spirit, where the remains of St. Maximus the Greek will rest.

Of course, our veneration will not add glory to St. Maximus, but this veneration will remind us of a man who suffered much in our land. From the Athonite monastery of Vatopedi he was sent to Russia at the request of the tsar, blessing him to work on checking the translations of many liturgical books that had already been made and to fill in what was missing. The learned monk, who did not immediately become fluent in the Russian language, was slandered. He was accused of deliberately damaging books.

Slander drove him from one monastery prison to another for more than a dozen years. He was not allowed to work here, nor was he allowed to go to Athos, to his place, and, because of which he was especially worried and tormented, he was not allowed to commune of the Holy Mysteries of the XXVIII. Only in the Lavra of St. Sergius was he treated sympathetically, and he spent the last five years of his life calmly. Now for us he is a martyr for his steadfastness. His tormentors are ignorance and passion. The eternal enmity between the spirit and the letter, wedged into the fate of a person, can be difficult and terrible. Faithfulness to the letter, strengthened by one's own self-conceit, blinds the heart and does not allow one to see the obvious: one cannot torture, one cannot mock a person, even if he has made a mistake in something, willingly or unwillingly, even if he thinks differently about something. But how often in history people are eager to prove their ignorance by force and authority. Especially terrible is ignorance invested with power. Blind and malicious, it finds a strange pleasure in torturing its victim.

I thought this to the singing of the choir, located on the steps at the entrance to the Church of the Holy Spirit. It was led by Father Matthew. The Patriarch said that we, who had walked for many years at the grave of St. Maximus, had now corrected this mistake and after a while we would have access to his holy relics. A short moleben was followed by a short pannikhida. Digging up the earth here, as well as throughout the territory of the Lavra, we unwittingly disturb the burial not so much of the known, but of the unknown dead. It is to them that the pannikhida is served. The high sun warmed the ground, which had long been covered with paving stones, and before it with asphalt. The choir sang "Eternal Memory" in unison. Did everyone perceive it – eternal memory – as a gift from God to all who are alive in soul, regardless of temporal life?.. This pannikhida and even more so a prayer service made a holiday out of an ordinary day. History came to life before our eyes. The memory of the ascetic, the martyr, almost unknown to anyone during his lifetime (and no more famous now), survived all the intrigues, all the sorrows, the excitement, flared up among people who had forgotten about him. It will expand the world of those who remember and love our land, who have worked for its children, who have been able to forgive their foolish persecutors and appreciate the sympathy of others. The fact that the unknown local canonization will become church-wide (including the Greek Church, native to St. Maximus), speaks of reconciliation and the ultimate triumph of truth and goodness. The excavation site is still fenced, but by the feast of the Venerable, one must think, there will be no trace of it. Thank God that the name of St. Maximus the Greek will come to life again for many visitors to the Lavra, and it will be possible to turn to him with your request and hope for understanding and help.