SERGIUS OF RADONEZH

On July 18, the Orthodox Church celebrates the memory of Saint Sergius of Radonezh (1314–1392). On that summer day in 1422, his relics were discovered in the monastery he founded.

From childhood, Sergius was distinguished by his profound modesty. He lived his entire life in authentic humility. This is not a figure of speech, but a trait of his personality. Over time, as Sergius’s name gained notoriety, the saint was increasingly distinguished by his desire for silence and his willingness to remain unknown.

In the Orthodox tradition, the liturgy is meant to be a manifestation of glory. The splendor of Orthodox worship is expressed in a combination of magnificent chants, rich liturgical texts, magnificent vestments, gestures, processions, blessings, and, surprisingly, an almost complete absence of silence.

Yet there is another, almost unknown image of Orthodox worship. Some of the saint’s objects are kept in the museum of the Moscow Theological Academy, which is also located in St. Sergius Monastery. These include the chalice, the paten, and elements of liturgical vestments. Those who have visited the museum and admired these objects, which have been handed down to us from him, his life, and his times, have encountered a different face of worship.

It is the liturgy of humility, the liturgy of solitude, the liturgy of powerlessness, the liturgy of withdrawal from the world. This humble liturgy, let us call it “the Liturgy of St. Sergius,” is visible in simple wooden Eucharistic vessels and liturgical vestments that seem almost utopian in their simplicity. It is celebrated in his monastery, which its founder conceived as a place of solitude, a city of angels, and a place of the invisible. Sergius’s entire life was a search for this biblical and deeply Christian “utopia.” Utopia literally means the absence of a place, the presence of something that simply does not exist here on earth.

The Life of Saint Sergius tells us that the then head of the Russian Church, Metropolitan Alexei (1292–1378), wanted to appoint Sergius as his successor. Sergius refused. One day, Sergius’s brother tried to seize power in the monastery he had founded. Sergius relented and left the monastery.

One day, Sergius received a visit from the Virgin Mary and John the Evangelist in a vision. Beside Sergius was his disciple Micah, whom no one would have ever heard of without this vision. As if Sergius himself had been afraid of being alone on the eve of such a visit, he brought with him not the Metropolitan or an experienced ascetic, but a humble, timid, and simple monk. In the Middle Ages, bishops and abbots of monasteries were referred to as princes of the church; loosely coined by the Hungarian poet Endre Ady (1877–1919), Sergius was the “Prince of Silence.”

The life of Saint Sergius is described as a eulogy. Yet the details that have been handed down often reveal something highly unusual and authentic. It is said that before his death, Sergius did not want to be buried in the church, as befits a monastery founder. He asked the monks to bury him in the brothers’ common cemetery.

“Testaments Betrayed” is the title of the work of our contemporary Milan Kundera (1929–2023). It describes the wishes of writers and poets who were betrayed after their death for the good of humanity. This may be justified, but it also has something deeply tragic about it. Man no longer belongs to himself, and especially after his death, his voice is no longer heard. The monks received the support of the Metropolitan, Alexis’s successor, and buried Sergius in the church he had built.

According to the Gospel, Christ was baptized at the age of thirty and began preaching. Thirty years after his death, Sergius appeared in a vision and commanded that his relics be found. He appeared to a simple man who loved him, lived near the monastery, and often prayed at his tombstone. We don’t know if he knew Sergius during his lifetime. Perhaps he knew him from his parents’ stories, or perhaps he was born through the prayers of Saint Sergius. We don’t even know his name. As in a children’s fairy tale by the Russian writer Andrei Platonov (1899–1951), he was the “grandson of the flowers” abandoned under the asphalt. But Sergius appeared to him and said: “Tell the abbot, I am alone underground, and there is water everywhere. Why have you left me alone for so long?”