Sergius of Radonezh

When you enter the gates of the St. Sergius Lavra along with the diverse crowd of people piously crossing themselves, you sometimes think to yourself, “Why has there never been a special observer in this cloister, like the chronicler of old Russia, who, with a calm and steady gaze, could observe and, with an even and impartial hand, could write, ‘this is what happened in the Russian lands,’ and did so year in and year out, from century to century, as if it were one and the same person, living on for centuries at a time?” Such a ceaseless observer would tell of the people who came here over the course of 500 years to bow down to the tomb of the Venerable St. Sergius and of the thoughts and feelings with which they returned home to every corner of the Russian land. Among other things, he would explain to us how it happened that the people that came in an uninterrupted flow to the tomb of the Venerable One remained unchanging for five centuries. Even during the life of the Venerable One, as one of his contemporaries who described his life attests, many multitudes came to him from various countries and cities, and among those who came were monks and princes and grandees and simple “village folk.” And in our day, people of all classes of Russian society flow to the tomb of the Venerable One with their thoughts, prayers, and hopes; government leaders come at difficult points in the life of the people, and simple folk come at moments of sorrow or joy in their private existences.

with such impassioned words, the great historian Vasily Klyuchevsky began his essay on Sergius of Radonezh (in English he is also known as Sergius Radonezhsky). And both Sergius himself and the Trinity St. Sergius Lavra that he founded truly have been at the center of Russian religious life – and not only religious life – for many centuries. Even in Soviet times, Zagorsk (as the town was called then; its previous name, Sergiyev Posad, has since been restored) was an amazing place, where, for whatever reason – maybe just for show or to confound foreigners – church services were held, the monastery functioned, monks lived, and the seminary was actually producing priests…

But here is an interesting question: what is it about Sergius of Radonezh as a person that attracts people? Of all of Russia’s saints, why is he the one who is seen as the most important – not St. Cyril of Beloozero, who went to live in the remote forests of Vologda, not Sabbatius and Zosima, who founded the magnificent Solovetsky Monastery, not Metropolitan Philipp, who met a martyr’s death at the hands of Ivan the Terrible’s chief executioner, Malyuta Skuratov?

Sergius’ significance is undeniable. Born Bartholomaeus and inclined toward prayer and solitude from childhood, he was spirituality personified. This is how he is depicted in the famous painting by Mikhail Nesterov. And this is probably the attribute that most captivated people’s consciousness. A boy, the son of impoverished parents, goes off into the woods to live as a hermit. The tumultuous events of the first half of the 14th century raged over the land – Rus was just beginning to recover after freeing itself from the Mongol yoke, the Moscow principality was on the ascendant, the princes of Moscow, Tver, and Lithuania were all fighting among themselves, and a young man was off praying in solitude, disturbed only by the bears, who sensed the hermit’s sanctity and were calm and quiet around him. Rumors of Sergius’ piety spread farther and farther, and others began to come to him, thirsting for a life of solitude, and although he did make an effort to protect his isolation, he later relented and founded a monastery. And so, where there had once been nothing, there was now the Trinity St. Sergius Lavra.

In fact, it was not quite so simple. The monastery founded by Sergius of Radonezh did not arise “out of nothing,” and it was not a simple refuge for hermits living in the forest. Sergius adopted a strict form of Byzantine Orthodoxy for his monks and later was given the approval and benediction of Byzantium for his work. He himself was clearly under the influence of Byzantine mystical teachings, which is evident from his descriptions of the visions he experienced. The austere form of Orthodoxy he adopted – the renunciation of all property, mandatory labor for monks – was unusual for 14th century Rus, but that did not discourage the faithful. To the contrary, it enhanced the monastery’s popularity. But in the national memory, Sergius is not primarily remembered as the founder of the Lavra, and the man who fundamentally revived monastic life or a holy mystic. First and foremost he is the country’s protector and patron saint.

Here we are treading on the unsteady ground of legend and myth. Over the course of six centuries, Sergius of Radonezh gradually came to be primarily known not for his exceptional achievements as a monk, but for the benediction he bestowed on Dmitry Donskoy, who came to the Lavra on his way to the Battle of Kulikovo. As legend has it, in addition to his blessing, the saint sent two of his monks with the prince: Peresvet and Oslyabya. They took part in the battle and lay down their lives there. The painting by Viktor Vasnetsov depicting Alexander Peresvet and Chelubei, a knight of the Horde, facing one another in single combat, is something most Russians remember from childhood. It is a rare history teacher who passes up the opportunity to show it in class when the Battle of Kulikovo is being studied.

But hardly anyone seems to ask this question: Why would monks, even if they used to be boyars, leave the monastery and, in violation of their vows, take part in combat? Did Sergius of Radonezh really permit them such an egregious departure from monastic rules? Furthermore, if we dig a little deeper, we discover some surprising facts. The oldest descriptions of the Battle of Kulikovo contain no mention of a benediction by Sergius of Radonezh; instead Dmitry Donskoy was given the blessing of the bishop of Kolomna, which would have made much more sense, since the Russian army was being assembled in Kolomna, and Donskoy would simply not have had time to go running off in the opposite direction to Trinity Lavra.

And there is more. As historians are well aware, in the late 1370s, that is, in the period leading up to the Battle of Kulkovo, Sergius of Radonezh, like many others in the church at that time, were more or less in a state of open conflict with Prince Dmitry. The prince of Moscow was trying to use his authority to have his close associate, the priest Mityai, appointed as metropolitan, and refused to let Metropolitan Cyprian, who served in Kiev and was therefore perceived as a pawn of Lithuania, come to Moscow. The Venerable Sergius – and he was not alone – was outraged at the very idea that a simple priest could be named metropolitan and made every effort to “lobby,” as we might say today, in support of Cyprian. This long and involved intrigue went on for some time: the appointment of Mityai, his mysterious death, the struggle between other candidates, and Donskoy’s enduring hostility toward Cyprian, who eventually became metropolitan.

But there is something else of interest . There are some historians who believe that Donskoy actually did go to Trinity Lavra – not right before the Battle of Kulikovo, but about two years earlier – and perhaps did seek a blessing before engaging the Horde, just not for such a well-known battle as Kulikovo. It is also possible that the proud prince used this visit to try to settle the question of who would be installed as metropolitan.

As concerns 1380 – the year the Battle of Kulikovo took place – it is possible that Sergius really did send Donskoy his blessing, but if his emissary did take part in the battle, he could not have been a monk. Saints Peresvet and Oslyabya are endlessly depicted as sword-wielding monks without anyone pausing to consider how unrealistic this is.

In our day, the faithful have fought hard to gain access to the graves of Peresvet and Oslyabya, since, as fate and history would have it, the church where they were buried wound up on the site of a factory with “secret” status. Access was finally granted, the church was opened, but just who these men were remains a mystery. However, one thing is clear. The duel between Peresvet and the knight Chelubei before the battle could not have taken place, since the Horde’s warriors were strictly prohibited from engaging in one-on-one combat. They attacked in a unified formation, and whoever broke ranks could be sentenced to death.

Whatever painstaking historical research might uncover, Sergius of Radonezh, at least for now, is linked in the public consciousness with the Battle of Kulikovo. Maybe it would be better if we focused our attention on his other, less worldly legacy – his devotion to the divine and to humble labor.

St. Sergei died September 25, 1392. He was elevated to sainthood in 1452. The Orthodox Church commemorates him each year on September 25 (October 8, new style) and on July 5 (18), the day in 1422 when his remains were reputedly found to be incorrupt, at which point they were buried in the Trinity Cathedral of present day Sergiyev-Posad.