Abraham "became the father of all believers," writes the Apostle Paul (Romans 4:11), reminding us that one can not come from the Jewish people in the flesh, but at the same time be an heir to the spiritual promises once given to Abraham. For "all believers," Abraham is a "father": not only to the Jews who descended from him in the flesh, but also to those who came to the biblical religion at the call of the spirit.

If it is said that we should fear more those who can kill the soul than those who can kill the body (Matt. 10:28), then is not the opposite true: we should honor more those who stand at the source of my spiritual life than the one to whom I owe my bodily life? And if the one who has brought me a lesser gift should be honored and honored with a thankful address of the father, then why should this word not be applied to spiritual birth, to birth in the spirit, which also takes place not without the participation of man (for "how can we believe in Him of whom you have not heard? how to hear without a preacher" – Rom. 10, 14)? That is why Apostle Paul writes. Paul: "I have begotten you in Christ Jesus" (1 Corinthians 4:15). And he directly explains that this is why he became a father for believers: "You have thousands of teachers <... > but not many fathers" (1 Cor. 4:15). And of a very concrete person Paul says: Onesimus, "whom I have begotten in bonds" (Philem. 10). Naturally, the disciples of the Apostle Paul perceived him as a father: Timothy "served me as a son to his father" (Phil. 2:22).

Through people, a person comes to the community of believers, to the Church. Therefore, to see the Church means to see people in whom the power of God is at work. An ancient monastic aphorism says that no one would ever become a monk if he did not once see the radiance of eternal life on the face of another person. That is why Ap. Paul: "My children, for whom I am again in the pangs of childbirth, until Christ is formed in you!" (Gal. 4:19); "Imitate me, as I follow Christ" (1 Corinthians 4:16). And so it is - through the centuries. In their birth from each other, the teachers preserve the image of the spiritual order that was first revealed by the creator of the tradition. Here is just one testimony about the meeting with the "father": "When, having finished the prayer, the priest blessed me and began to speak, I began to listen to him with all my heart, but not to the words, but to the new and unusual things that were born in my soul in his presence, that renewed, revived, and made me strong."

Birth cannot happen by itself, "just like that". And it is no accident that in Christian literature from time to time there is a confession: "We suffered, giving birth to you through repentance, we gave birth to you with great patience, great pain and daily tears, although you knew nothing about it. Come here, my child, I will take you to God." Thus writes St. Symeon the New Theologian to his spiritual son. Is it blasphemy to say to such a spiritual father, "Father!"?

Protestants forbid calling pastors by this word. Well, "they have never, probably, in their lives known the people we knew, no one has shown them in living breath what the Holy Church is, no one has pressed their heads to his chest, on which there is a chill of an old stole, no one has said to them: 'My dear child' – these fiery words from which all unbelief melts, and what is even more surprising, all sins" [184].

Protestants have no spiritual fathers, no priests. Perhaps that is why they do not know what a painful and joyful connection is established between the spiritual master and the disciple, such a connection that it cannot be expressed in any other words than "son!" and "father!" They do not understand the words of Exupéry: "You see, a person is born into the world for a long time"...

The Apostle Paul speaks of spiritual fatherhood in the first century; Prep. Simeon is in the tenth. But in the nineteenth we see the same fruit of spiritual love: "Be a mother, and not a father to the brethren," advises St. Seraphim of Sarov to the newly-ordained abbot[185].

Thus, there is no blasphemy in calling a priest "father" and "father". Man must understand that the only source of his life is in God. Here, as in relation to the icon: only the One God can be worshiped and served. But it is possible and necessary to honor that through which and through whom we learn about God and receive the gift of life. "Worship God alone," but "honor your father and mother," and, of course, do not forget about your spiritual kinship.

But what do Christ's words "call no one your father" mean for Orthodoxy? Christ does not speak about the external, but about the internal. He condemns not the conversion itself, but the inner state of the soul that can be reflected in such conversion. And it is not the one who says "father" who is condemned, but the one who demands such an address to himself. There is the lust of vanity, there is a lustful craving for presiding over meetings and for signs of reverence—and this is what Christ condemns. Let us recall the context: "On the seat of Moses sat the scribes and Pharisees <... > nevertheless do their deeds so that people < see them... > also love to preside at banquets, and to preside in synagogues, and to greet them in public assemblies, and that people should call them, "Teacher, teacher!" But do not be called teachers, for you have one Teacher, Christ, and you are all brethren; and call no one on earth your father, for you have one Father, who is in heaven; and do not be called teachers, for you have one Teacher, Christ. Let the greatest of you be your servant: for he who exalts himself will be humbled, but he who humbles himself will be exalted" (Matt. 23:2:5-12). It is not that in any society there really are teachers and there are disciples, not that in any assembly there really is and should be a senior and those who have yielded to him the primacy, but that vain and proud craving that seeks in everyone he meets, first of all, an obsequious respect for himself as a "mentor", "teacher", "elder", "father". The desire of a person to become a "teacher", "mentor", "greater", the desire to elevate himself is condemned. This is not just the sin of the clergy, it is a much more common sin. A parishioner grandmother, who authoritatively explains to a girl how to light a candle and how not to light it, often radiates proud phariseeism, although she does not call herself either a "priest" or a "teacher." And in the hearts of young Protestants, did not something similar stir in the face of a neophyte: "Look, I have been in our wonderful community for a year and a half, I already know everything, I even participated in a week-long theological seminar, and you still do not know how many books are included in the Holy Scriptures. Well, it's okay, come, I'll teach you!"

… And in the final analysis, this text really denounces us. We really do not live by these words. We are all Christians, not only Orthodox. Where is the confession in which all the ministers fulfill this Christ's commandment, not for show, but sincerely and unceasingly: "Let the greatest of you be your servant: for whoever exalts himself will be humbled, but whoever humbles himself will be exalted" (Matt. 23:11-12)? There are words in the Gospel that are a thorn in the soul of Christians. They do not allow reading the Gospel with a sense of superiority and self-admiration: "Behold, they say, we are not like the Pharisees and the Jewish scribes; we have come to know Christ, we have believed in Him, we have accepted His teaching, and we fulfill it in all things." Yes, yes, this denunciation of the Pharisees applies to us Orthodox Christians as well. But it burns our conscience not because we have the title "father", but because it is something much more comprehensive, deep, important... In the seminary, a passage from the Gospel was read at every morning prayer. And I remember what an unusual silence hung in the hall when one day the priest read this very passage: "Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees..." (Matt. 23:14). The Gospel is not only a comforting book, not only touching, not only affectionate. Its scourges and thorns are for everyone, not just for the ancient inhabitants of Palestine.

But in the words of Christ against the Pharisees there is no condemnation of those who, out of humility, consider their neighbor superior to himself, and consider him to be the elder. And if Protestants wish to combat the internal, spiritual disease of Phariseeism through external language reform, if they hope to remove the spiritual temptation of vanity and pride by removing one or two words from the lexicon, then let them be consistent and abolish professorial titles in their seminaries. A "professor" is nothing more than a "teacher."

No one can be forced to address this or that person with the word "father". In Orthodoxy, addressing a priest as "father" is not a requirement of church discipline or doctrine. This is an extra-statutory, non-canonical, but precisely family, intimate treatment. There are words, there are addresses that are used only between close relatives. And if a stranger, who accidentally overheard them, begins to demand from his acquaintances that they call each other not by their home names, but exclusively by their first names and patronymics, then he will put himself in a not very favorable light. It is impossible to forbid the manifestations of love. It is impossible to forbid a brother to be called a brother and a spiritual father – a priest[186].

It also follows that a priest should not call himself a father. Only the decline of class ethics can explain why today some priests present themselves not as "Priest Alexander" but as "Father Alexander." Once I bore the obedience of the secretary of the Rector of the Moscow Theological Academy. A student who had been ordained a priest a few days ago came into the reception room, introduced himself ("I am Father John Ivanov from the 4th grade") and said that he would like to meet with Vladyka Rector. Entering the Rector's office, I conveyed this request: "Father Ioann Ivanov has come from the 4th grade, he asks to meet with you." Vladyka's reaction was unexpected: he asked me if Ivanov had introduced himself in this way, or if I called him that. I replied that I had conveyed exactly what and how I had been told in the reception room. And then Vladyka said something that became a lesson for me for the rest of my life: "Go and tell him that he will be a 'father' in his parish for his spiritual children, and I myself ordained him only three days ago – and he is already climbing into my father?! Let him learn to introduce himself properly, and then he comes!"

So the address "father" is the result of a kind of "recognition". Is it possible to address a clergyman in a different way? There are official addresses: "Your Reverence" (to a deacon, priest, hieromonk), "Your Reverence" (to the abbot, archpriest, archimandrite). In principle, you can also address them secularly - by their first name and patronymic. But, I must warn you, such an appeal can leave an abrasion in the priest's soul. Why this abrasion arises can be seen from an incident related in the memoirs of B. N. Lossky, the son of a famous Russian philosopher. For N. O. Lossky, as for many other St. Petersburg intellectuals, "addressing priests by their first names and patronymics was a habit. He himself abandoned this custom and began to condemn it after he called his pre-revolutionary colleague and ideological comrade-in-arms, Father Sergius Bulgakov, who had arrived in Prague in the clerical rank in 1924, and heard from him that he accepted such a designation as one of the manifestations of God's punishment for his late conversion to the faith.