(Bulgakov 1991, 349) [434].

Further reflections on love lead to the theme of the Self – both in the pronominal linguistic space and in the existential space. The linguistic and ontological analysis of the Self leads to the essential conclusion that "the nature of the Self is conciliar, conciliarity, or polyunity, is an inalienable property of the personal Self, the hypostasis, outside of which it cannot be revealed and simply exist: when I speak, the hypostasis is spoken simultaneously by you, and we, and they. Such is the self-testimony of our spirit about its own nature: it is not one, although it is one, its unity is given only in the multiplicity of triunity, it is one-person in multiplicity, it is catholic, conciliar, and pure monohypostasis is an abstraction, nonsens" (Bulgakov 1991, 351–352).

The condensation of self-contradictions leads to that hopelessness which has no solution on the direct paths of logic. But the paradox of the Trinity, seemingly incomprehensible to the human mind and consciousness, prescribes the way to the clarification of the Trinitarian idea:

[…] man was created by God as a plurality, which is essentially reduced in relation to hypostasis to a trinity. The fullness of the image of God is revealed and realized not in a separate individual, but in the human race, a multitude, for which there is not only I, but also you, and we, and you, which is conciliar as a race and is called to love. The trinity of the hypostasis in God was reflected in creation as a multiplicity of separate, but mutually confined and connected with each other by a personal pronoun of subjects. Only God is characterized by the trihypostasis, which is incomprehensible in human nature, as a complete given, but it is contained in the fullness of the image of God, as a givenness, as the ultimate goal of likeness to God. The path of this likeness to God is love. Divine love, the eternal image of sacrificial self-denial as the force of Love, completely overcomes the boundaries of the self, makes the other self one's own self, and identifies itself with it. But the path of self-identification with the other self is the path of love and the power of love in human life. And every experience of love is this life in the other and in others, the transference of one's self into a certain you, self-identification with it in the image of triune love. But this conciliarity of love is the Church, the human race in its churchification, likeness to God, deification, which is the goal and task of human life. And this is what the Lord prays for in His high-priestly prayer, in which He defines the ultimate purpose of creation. "That all may be one, as You, Father, are in Me, and I in You, that they may be one in us" (John 17:21) [...]

(Bulgakov 1991, 354–355).

It is very possible that Sergius came to a similar understanding of the Trinity in other ways: I, man, love, God, the Trinity, "that all may be one", the likeness of man to God and the belittling of God for the sake of man – all these images-ideas, their chain could lead Sergius to the main meaning of the Trinity. It is hardly expedient to speak more specifically about the boundaries of Sergius' personal theology and the realization of the image and essence of the Trinity. It is important that the reduction and simplification of the Trinitarian teaching of the great Fathers of the Church was done, apparently, quite correctly, in accordance with the spirit of this idea and deep personal involvement in it. And such examples are known at different levels – from philosophical and theological numerology, which is trying to solve the paradox of unity and trinity (one is a monolithic unity that longs for the other, unity; two is a formed unity, threatened by a split of the component parts, gravitating not only to fusion, but also to oppositivity, to disintegration; three is complete and perfect fullness with an emphasis on the leading role of the center that draws everything to itself, that is not the center), to the simple ideas about the Trinity of the three elders from the most real fantasy of Leo Tolstoy in his story of the same name (1885): when the bishop unexpectedly visited a deserted island in the White Sea and met the three elders who were being saved there (they "did more and more silently, and speak little to each other"), he asked them: "How do you pray to God?" "We pray thus: three of you, three of us, have mercy on us", where "three of you" are the three Persons of the Trinity, where "three of us" are me, you, he (worshippers of the Trinity, "human", "have mercy on us" (the connection of I, you, he, the "human" with the Trinity, the "divine") [435]. 228). If you like, this Tolstoy's "three of you, three of us, have mercy on us" is also, with a given measure of simplicity and brevity, a variant of the Trinitarian teaching, or rather, a variant by which one can go further to clarify the meaning of the image of the Trinity [436].

ANNEX I

MOSCOW METROPOLITANS OF THE FOURTEENTH CENTURY

This topic, which is important in itself and is naturally not considered here, is also important in connection with Sergius of Radonezh, since the theme of the metropolitans refers to the theme of the Church in Russia in the fourteenth century, its organization, its policy, both within the Church and related to relations with the princely power, its tasks and goals, its moods and aspirations, its role in the spiritual development of society and its contribution to the Russian history of the century under consideration. With two of the Moscow metropolitans, Alexis and Cyprian, Sergius of Radonezh had relations of cooperation, respect, and moreover, mutual benevolence. In many respects, Sergius and these metropolitans were at one and the same time, and possible disagreements, if there were probably any, did not come to the surface and did not serve as any noticeable obstacle in the common cause.

Alexis and Cyprian, the Metropolitans of Moscow, not only for their noted and high position and for their close ties with Sergius, but also for their human qualities, for their policy and its results, deserve special attention. The same applies to Metropolitan Peter, who transferred the metropolitan cathedra from Vladimir to Moscow. He died when Bartholomew (Sergius) was still a child, and there could be no connection between them, of course. But Peter stood at the origins of the "Muscovite" period in the history of the Metropolia of the Russian Church and, already, of the line that was so successfully continued and deepened by subsequent Moscow metropolitans in the fourteenth century.

It must be said that the Mongol-Tatar invasion, the defeat of Kiev in 1240 and other sad events of that time, which led to the fact that Kievan Rus lay in ruins, had somewhat unexpected (at least at first glance) consequences in the life of the Russian Church and its metropolia, in particular. The Russian Church, the center of which from the moment of the adoption of Christianity was Kiev, on the contrary, avoided the collapse that state power and statehood experienced more closely than the Church, which is connected with the space of the state, power and possession. Of course, the Church from the middle of the thirteenth century and during the following century (not to mention the later times of the "sub-Tatar" existence, which was incomparably easier for the Church than for the secular princely power) experienced many changes, but they were determined mainly by two factors: the internal growth of the Russian Church and the awareness of its tasks in connection with those major events that significantly changed the political history of Russia in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. and the development of its position in relation to these changes. These tasks were not invented, but genuine. The hot breath of those days urgently determined what these tasks were to be. The urgency of the tasks implied a quick and life-prompted choice of solutions: only the "head" could not help in this matter, it was necessary to listen to the voice of life, to understand its deficits, to realize its requirements, to highlight its main imperatives. In a word, it was necessary to overcome the existing status quo, which would be salvation. And from the beginning of the fourteenth century, not very noticeable at the first steps, there was a slow, and then increasingly gaining strength, growth of historical creativity in Russia, both among the people, who no longer had the strength, nor the time, nor the desire to do anything other than the urgent reality of this day, both in the Church and in the state power. At one pole (the people) the problem is solved imperceptibly, as if gradually, if you will, egoistically and down-to-earth. At the other pole (power) everything is done naked, often rudely, cruelly, not in a Christian way. The Church tries (and does not always succeed) to avoid extremes. And if, on the whole, it coped with its task successfully in the fourteenth century (there is no point in talking about exceptions here), then this is to a large extent explained both by the understanding of the imperatives of the time and by the very personality of the leaders of the Russian Church, who correctly grasped the direction in which the winds of history blow.

Necessity as a consequence of lack often gives rise to the prospect of the path leading to salvation. The meaning of this perspective may be revealed late, at the end of the path, but this does not negate either the reality of the perspective itself or its salvific value. It is not difficult to see that the consequence of the Mongol-Tatar invasion and the decline of Kievan Rus was the shift of the center of Russian church power to the northeast. At the highest level, this is really manifested in the corresponding transfer of the metropolitan's residence from the south to the north. With these changes in mind, the historian of the Russian Church gives a panoramic description of the situation from this point of view: