— Vladyka, usually on birthdays, especially when it is also a jubilee, people sum things up. In what frame of mind do you meet this day?
— What summing up can I make about myself? I know that I was a sinner, that I am a sinner, and the one thing I hope is that I shall not be a sinner to the end. I thank God and my parents, by whose love and by God's mercy I was born.
A man cannot of himself come into this world unless it be God's will. God can bring a man into this world without the man's own consent, out of His love, but He does not intervene in a man's life without that man's consent. Because that would be a violation of the freedom of his will.
Therefore the summing up about me can be made by the brethren themselves, by the people who come and see. And I can only say: "Woe is me, a sinner, woe!"
— What would Vladyka Pavel say to the young Petro Lebid from Borbyn, who was still living with his mother and father and had no idea what responsibility awaited him in adult life?
— I would say: "Petro, live in piety and love God more." There has been much in my life. And there was no priest to guide me from childhood. Yes, in the morning I hurried to the service, but in the evening I was at a dance in the club. I did not take from life everything I might have wanted, nor is that needed, but I wished to be an example in the good sense of the word. Somehow something came of it. So to that young man I would say: "Love God still more and serve your neighbour!"
— What would Vladyka Pavel say to himself, but now to Petro Lebid the seminarian?
— Study more. Enter more deeply into the teaching. Only do not try to penetrate it by your own mind; ask God to give you the gifts of the Holy Spirit. I tried to draw in everything I could, I laboured. Even then I managed to read the greater part of the Lives of the Saints (the 12-volume set). I loved and still love to read and re-read the works of John Chrysostom.
What else would I say?
Study and hurry to church. Open the church and close the church by your presence. Do not hurry to look at the cunning world, for it lies in evil; hold rather to the robe of the Lord.
Live with God and live by God.
— What would Vladyka Pavel say to Archimandrite Pavel, who in 1994 was appointed abbot and came to restore the Kyiv Caves Lavra?
— Acquire humility and meekness. Learn patience, which I did not have and to this day do not have. I cannot say that I have joined in myself, or can reach up to, my spiritual patrons — the Apostle Peter and the Apostle Paul. It is unattainable — both the wisdom of the Apostle Paul and the zeal of the Apostle Peter! Though of Peter's zeal there has always been much in me. If I see a goal, I do not see obstacles. To this day I cannot say what a trial in a man's life is. In part we create them ourselves.
I remember very well July 1985, when we were sitting with Father Mykhail under three chestnut trees on the territory of the Upper Lavra and I said to him: "If only one could live to the time when the Dormition cathedral will be built, when the lamp of monasticism will be lit here. To the abbot who might revive this I would kiss not only his hand but would make a multitude of prostrations to him."
Exactly 9 years later the Lord not merely gave me the opportunity, He gave me the mercy — and I became that abbot on whose shoulders fell the building of the Dormition cathedral and the bringing of the Lavra's territory into the state proper to it. People come here who draw spirituality here, and see the glory of God, and look upon the labours of the holy people who live and who have lived.
To that Archimandrite Pavel who came to the Lavra in 1994 I would say: "You have been unspeakably fortunate in life, Pavel! You have the opportunity to delight in the Divine love and in the joy which the Lord has given you."
— Vladyka, tell us about your studies at the Trinity-Sergius Lavra?
— I came to the Trinity-Sergius Lavra on 21 July 1984, after the army.
I returned from the army in 1983 and for the first year after my return I "got on my feet", prepared for the entrance examinations and saved money for the journey.
I was afraid to go to Moscow; I persuaded Father Feodor (now departed, the Kingdom of Heaven be his) to go with me to take my documents, and although he was not very willing, he agreed. It was very difficult then. Believers were compelled to hide and to conceal themselves, sometimes even in the trees (!), to escape pursuit. After I was admitted, searches were carried out in our house for three weeks.
The beauty of the Trinity-Sergius Lavra conquered my soul at once. I loved it with all my heart. And the first thing that struck me was the first service. It happened to be the feast of the Exaltation of the Precious Cross of the Lord. I did not understand where I was — on earth or in heaven?
— Was it hard to get in?
— Of course. Then, in 1984, 800 people applied (and in the end only 100 were taken). I hoped, of course, but I very much doubted that I would be accepted. I got a 5 for my composition. At the audition my voice trembled badly from nerves. Then, I remember, Mark Kharytonovych (he himself is from Ukraine) asked: "Petro, can you sing something simpler, 'Tsvite teren', for instance?" I sang it. He says: "Good, there is a voice; leave Allemanov for singers with a broad chest."
Something else struck me. When people were applying, everyone around was so pious. But when the lists were read out, one could hear swearing and abuse and worse. Someone would come out and immediately start smoking cigarettes.
Our vice-rector, Mykhailo Stepanovych, constantly put to us one and the same thing, whether a question or a reproach: "Why have you come here? With what purpose?" At the time this irritated me greatly. Much later I asked him what it was for. To which Mykhailo Stepanovych replied: "Petro, in the church there must be believing people. Otherwise, who usually comes here? People of three categories, all beginning with 'p': 'the succession of the throne', 'a following wind' and 'by calling'.
'The succession of the throne' — these are people who decided to serve the Church because their forebears were priests, and they followed the tradition of their family. 'A following wind' — those who came for various reasons, only not out of love for God. One because of a dream of wearing the klobuk, another for the sake of power or money. And only 'by calling' — those who really ought to become ministers of the church. A priest must serve God and people. So people of the first two categories will feel uncomfortable at my question, they will think twice, and perhaps change their minds, while the third category will remain."
Later I understood the wisdom of his words. Many abandoned their studies without even having begun the labour of service. Some thought that they would put on the klobuk and people would kiss their hand — and so it would be easy and fine. But no. If it has fallen to your lot to give your life for God, for your neighbours, you must give it. Your only task is to ask God for help, that He may strengthen you and your faith on this path. There is no greater labour than to give one's life for one's neighbours.
In general those were splendid years at the seminary. I had a specialised secondary education — in cookery — and so I appeared in the kitchen every day. And I also laboured in Father Kronid's prosphora bakery. I prepared the altar prosphoras and the artos loaves. I stood at the rolling out of the dough for all the prosphoras. We had up to 30 thousand prosphoras in the baking.
— Vladyka, tell us about Father Kirill (Pavlov); what sort of man was this great spiritual father of three patriarchs, a soldier who went through the whole war?
— His life amazed me. I used to go to his readings. He sat on a little stool, I sat to his left, and to his right was an enormous sack of notes as tall as himself, which had to be read, and in the corner an even bigger sack of notes already read. I even offered to help him, but he refused; he considered that he must do it himself, since there was a blessing for it.
About 20 people came to him for the reading of the Gospel; first he read himself, then he gave me the "Philokalia" and the Old Testament to read. And at the end of this reading he gave each of us a sweet. They were "Mishka kosolapy" caramels, or a piece of bread with a piece of sturgeon. And this treat was sweeter to us than honey, tastier than anything in the world! We were not hungry, we were fed very well at the seminary, but from the father's hands any food was the best on earth.
He was a man of astonishing meekness. On his name day he always hid himself, out of modesty, to avoid words of praise addressed to him. We had a schemamonk Moisei, who in the world had been the author of a textbook of algebra and geometry; he was already an old man, and sometimes at the Liturgy he would begin to snore. My friends and I used to laugh at him. One of my closest friends was Father Afanasii. He received the tonsure on the day his mother died, whom he loved very much. But he did not go to her funeral; he said that he would meet her There, and here on earth he would go on praying for the time being. And so, when the schemamonk Moisei began to snuffle, Father Afanasii touched him lightly with a finger under the ribs, and Father Kirill reproved him for it: "Father Afanasii, do not touch him, he is conversing with the angels." How much love for one's neighbour there is in those simple words! This is what I try to pass on to the brethren.
There were a great many different moments. I remember our fathers, great men of prayer — Father Kirill, Father Modest, Kronid, Afanasii, Father Lavrentii, Father Trifon — almost all were from Ukraine. They would sit down to read the satirical magazine "Perets" or "Krokodil" and laugh like children!
In general, Father Kirill was a man of holy life! We have many bishops, but elders of the stature of Father Kirill and Father Avramii we have not. I remember, I had already become a bishop and came to him in Peredelkino. I go in, we sit down, we are talking, and he looks at me so attentively and says: "Are you a bishop? Or will you soon be a bishop?" I keep silent, because I know that if I answer that I am a bishop, he will ask for a blessing. And who am I, that an elder should take a blessing from me? He asks a second time: "Are you a bishop?" And at that moment Hieromonk Filaret runs in with the words: "Vladyka, bless!" Father Kirill exclaims: "What a rogue!" — and at once falls at my feet: "Bless me!" I tried to refuse, and he said to me: "You have the authority!" Then he takes down the icon of the Trinity and blesses me, and afterwards says: "Do not do that again."
— With whom from the seminary do you still keep up relations?
— I try to keep up good relations with everyone who is in my memory. I still keep in touch with Father Vitalii Kosovskyi, with whom I studied. There is also Father Mykhail, who now serves in Diveyevo.
And Father Melchisedek from Optina Pustyn, Father Ilarion — assistant to the dean of the Trinity-Sergius Lavra.
Among the bishops — Vladyka Georgii of Nizhny Novgorod, Vladyka Feodosii of Tambov, Vladyka Rostislav of Tomsk, Vladyka Gedeon and Vladyka Iakov, Vladyka Kirill of Pokrov — from among those with whom I studied.
All these are people with whom I truly still preserve brotherly relations.
— In general, Vladyka, is it easy for you to make friends, to keep up friendly relations?
— If I offer my friendship and people do not respond, I do not impose myself. And one must take into account that I am a fairly straightforward man, and not everyone likes that. Ranks are not important to me; what is important is ease in conversation.
I always remember my predecessor at the Lavra — Vladyka Yelevferii. He was a most intelligent man. He used to say: "When you are rising upward, look who is standing at your sides. Because when you are falling down, you should know how and to whom to bow."
That is the truth of life.
When a man soars up, he does not remember who gave him a hand, who gave him a copeck, who helped him with a word, a deed, an article or a piece in the media. On the contrary, more often a man begins to oppress those who served him, in order to erase that help from his memory. He is hardly likely to repent, and yet only repentance sets a man right.
— Your favourite teachers at the seminary?
Unfortunately they are no longer alive. Metropolitan Iona of Astrakhan loved me very much. When he stayed with me at the Lavra for the last time, he lay down on the bed and said to me: "My dear Vladyka, if I had known that you would become abbot of the Kyiv Caves Lavra, I would not have given you even a three, let alone a two!" I studied not badly, but because I liked to prompt others I often got a scolding or bad marks from him.
Vladyka Aleksii (Frolov) of Kostroma taught the history of the Russian Church. Thanks to him I came to love the Lives of the Saints. Without fail, 20 minutes before the end of the second lesson, he would read us the Lives of the Saints.
Father Ioann Maslov, the Hlynsk elder, taught us liturgics. This was not simply a man but a real spiritual treasure chest, a storehouse of spiritual wisdom.
Heorhii Tartyshnykov, Mark Kharytonovych (who taught singing), Father Platon taught us moral theology. Professor Oleksii Illich Osipov was very small, and so, when we angered him, he said that all our heads should be cut off so that we would be as clever as he was.
I had very close relations with Father Venedikt. He once said to me: "I shall direct your life, but I shall never hear your confession, because I am the superior and you are the subordinate."
Every teacher of the theological seminary was a particular, unique personality.
— Tell us about your decision to become a monk. When did that thought come?
— I wanted to become a monk from childhood, but there were various circumstances. When I was little, my grandmother and I went to the Lutsk cathedral. I was not more than 10 years old. And then for the first time I saw Vladyka Damian there and said: "Grandmother, I do not know who that is, but I shall be such a father as he is!" After the fire at the seminary, when my friends perished, I finally decided to become a monk. I remember I sent my mother a telegram with the following content: "Mama, all is well with me." She did not watch television and did not know what had happened at the seminary, and so at first she was surprised — well, good, if all is well, but why the telegram? I sent another telegram: "All is well with me." Until my mother was told about the fire she was bewildered. And when she found out, they set off to me by the very next train.
When my mother arrived, her first question was: "And why are you alive?" "It happened so. I have decided to go to a monastery." My mother would not hear of it. Father Bohdan, with whom I was very friendly, even reproached me: "What are you doing to your parents? What do you want with monasticism?" But I said that I had already decided everything. After that I was ordained as a celibate. Father Iona asked me to remain at the academy as assistant dean, but I had to return home — it was hard for my family (my mother and younger sisters) without me, and they had to be helped.
It is true that in 1985 I asked to go to Athos. There were hardly any monasteries here then. But only monks with a "record" of not less than 5 years were sent to Athos. So I was sent home.
On the feast of Cyril and Methodius in 1987 I was ordained deacon, and the question of the priesthood arose. Vladyka Varlaam said that he would take me as a priest. And on 7 January 1988 I was sent to Lutsk, and there I was ordained to the rank of presbyter.
— You have already said a little about it, but could you now tell us in more detail about your parents' reaction?
— Before the tonsure I came home. As I remember it now, my father was in the barn throwing out the manure, and so I went first to my mother. And I say: "Mama, I have decided to receive monasticism." She answers: "Only over my dead body." But here one must understand that these were the 1980s! Monasticism was akin to disgrace! At that time Soviet propaganda distorted the monastic image in every possible way. Monks were thieves and liars and traitors and something still more frightening and terrible. So I did not insist; I decided to wait for my father, when he should be free and come back into the house.
My father came back, stood at the threshold and asked straight out: "What? Have you decided on the monastery?" "Yes." My father answers quite calmly: "Well, God be your help! Only do not disgrace the path you have chosen." Then I asked: "But mother is against it, she says only over her dead body." My father again answered calmly: "She will not be lying down. And if she does, we shall bury her as is fitting. You are 28 years old, you must choose your own path."
— Your father was a Protestant, is that right?
— Yes, my father was a Protestant. But after I received the tonsure, in time he agreed to come over to Orthodoxy and was baptised. The Lord showed him His mercy in this way — he knew of his own end, and managed to gather us all together and bless us. My father was in general a man of unbelievable kindness and simplicity.
— And in the end, how did you manage to persuade your mother?
— After my father's answer no one persuaded her. She fussed about, sighed, took out the household icon, made the sign of the cross over me with it — and that was all. My father often used to correct my mother if she did something not as he thought right. I remember he kept saying to her: "Is it so hard for you to give? You know that if you share with your neighbour, the Lord will give you still more!" He always taught me: "Do not have a hundred roubles, have a hundred friends." What is money? And that is true. If it were not for the people I came to know, there would be no Lavra such as you saw today. Only thanks to God and to friends am I still walking in this world.
— Please recall your tonsure?
— I was to receive monasticism in the autumn, but Vladyka Varlaam fell gravely ill. And only after his recovery did he bless the tonsure for 26 June, the feast of the venerable Onuphrius.
A great many people came. Vladyka asked what name I wanted; I answered: "Serafim, Varlaam, Antonii." He smiled and said: "You want a lot." "Only not Pavel, or I shall walk out of the tonsure!" — I asked him then.
The thing is that in my family the Pavels were unlucky men. My elder brother Pavlo died, having drunk kerosene. My uncle, my father's brother, also Pavlo, in 1963 got into a fight at his school leaving party, in which one of the lads died of a knife wound. All the lads, including my uncle Pavlo, were exiled to Siberia to a settlement. My third brother Pavlo is a hundred times better than I am, but he loves the "green serpent", and the serpent defeats him every time. And now at the tonsure I hear: "Our brother Pavel". It made me shudder. I wanted to say: "Vladyka, that is not what we agreed." But obedience is above all. Now I do not even answer to the name Petro. I came to love my saint very much. I hope that he loves me too. I have grown together with this name today.
— Formerly you were very strict in matters of fasting and preparation for communion, and then you understood that love is more important than the typicon. When did this change occur?
— Love for people I had before, and I have it now, as it seems to me. In the parish I loved everyone and helped everyone as I could. Now, with age, I have become more sentimental. As Vladyka Vasilii of Kirovohrad used to say: "When you begin to weep at the sight of people's misfortunes, it means that old age and death are drawing near."
Yes, perhaps I used to be harsher, but I do not regret having been so.
Until I became a diabetic myself I did not understand why one has to take tablets before communion. I thought, well, receive communion and then take your tablets. Now it is no longer so simple.
Understanding of people comes when you yourself find yourself in the same situation, when you yourself fall ill or come into trouble.
But strictness must be there all the same. At that time my zeal and strictness led to all the couples in Novovolynsk being married in church. Whole families were married. It happened that I married 15 couples at once — parents, children, and sometimes grandchildren too. For the times were such that for 70 years no one allowed anybody to be married in a human way.
But in matters of marriage I am strict to this day. And even now I can say to married couples: "If you are not married in church, I shall not give you communion!" But I say it with love.
Strictness must be there in any case. I, for example, am not in favour of receiving communion every day, or even every week.
When I came to Jerusalem for the first time, my hair stood on end at the thought that this is the land of my Lord. And now I have come for the 60th time, and what of it? Well, yes, Jerusalem, the church. We shall serve. We shall go in there, we shall dine here…
When I first came to the Lavra, I always went round all the venerable fathers of the Caves. And today I have particles of relics in my cell, and I go by no means every day, but the former awe is no longer there. You grow used to it, and this mystery of God's touch upon your soul slips away from you little by little. Therefore in everything there must be measure, there must be discernment and an awed, but not a servile, love and attitude towards holy things.
Go to the Lord each time as though for the first. Because you will relax, and you will miss the meeting with God.
— They say that Metropolitan Filaret (Denysenko), at the opening of the Lavra, was against the old brethren returning to it?
— I have not heard that. I heard something else: that he said a few monks were enough in the Lavra for the celebration of the services. Many are not needed.
— And the first thing you did was to bring the elders back to the Lavra; why?
— When I came to the Lavra, I was very anxious. There were very few brothers here, there was no spiritual father. In Kyiv I too knew hardly anyone; there was not even anyone to turn to except His Beatitude. Then I went to Metropolitan Volodymyr, and he instructed me. On his advice I decided to find a spiritual father for the Lavra. That was the very first thing. For some time we looked for Father Avramii and prevailed on him to return. But it turned out that some of the brethren were against Father Avramii's return. Then I said sternly: "Father Avramii will be here as long as I am alive and as long as I am in the Lavra."
After that I invited Father Antonii, the gardener. Then I brought back Father Varlaam. These are the first monks who were tonsured.
In 1994 there were 35 of us in all, then 25 remained. It was precisely with these 25 people that we began the restoration of the Lavra.
— When you brought the elders back to the Lavra, what did you feel?
— I thank God that we did not have many elderly monks. The Lavra needed physical strength. Young monastics and elderly monks often do not entirely understand one another. All the more so now, in the age of gadgets, monks have become far freer in their views and actions than the elderly monks who were brought up in strictness. The young have a certain "leaven of freedom". Of course, among the elders, Father Avramii was an enormous support and a power of prayer for me.
He was a man of holy life. We thought that he was in his cell and knew little of the life of the brethren, but when you came to him before an important meeting, he would tell you such things that one could only wonder where he knew it all from, and which of us was the abbot at all. He could say everything about everyone. In 2020 it was 66 years of his monasticism! And he departed to the Lord on the very day he had come to the monastery — on the Nativity of the Mother of God. I constantly felt his prayerful support. I did not go to him for advice, because to any question of mine he answered: "And what do you think?" I would answer. And he would say to me: "Yes, my dear Vladyka, I think just as you do!" I would frown, and he would say again: "My dear Vladyka, if you do everything splendidly yourself, where can I put in my advice? And how am I to advise on what I do not understand. I only pray for you!" I leave with His Beatitude at 4 in the morning, and Father Avramii is at his window blessing me. I arrive at three at night — again he is at the window blessing me. You ask him — how are things? And he is delighted: "My dear Vladyka, there is everything! Hot water, cold water! I have 5 rooms!!" He was always content with everything and grateful.
Such eldership one wants to preserve and to bless.
I am in general for the restoration of the old traditions. I always try to revive what once was, and not to bring in anything of my own.
— Your hardest period at the Lavra?
— I cannot even say. It is not hard to serve God. What hard period can there be for me if God is with me? The venerable Anthony the Great said: "Children, if I am with God, I am ready to go even into hell." To which he was asked: "Father, you have spent so many days in the desert and you want to go to hell? Why?" To which he answered: "The main thing is to be with God. Where God is, there is no hell."
Yes, with the appearance of the OCU and the persecutions of the canonical faith I thought that people would stop helping the Lavra altogether, but that did not happen. People still make donations for the building and renewal of churches. We wanted to paint the Dormition cathedral and little by little we are putting it into effect. After the death of Father Avramii in 2020, his spiritual child, living far abroad, donated money for the paintings.
I thought that my brothers and I would have nothing to eat after these persecutions, but no, the Lord gives us everything needful, and even in abundance.
— Which of the contemporary theologians do you like?
— There are many. I very much love to listen to His Beatitude Metropolitan Onufriy and to the rector, Vladyka Sylvester. In general, I always preach when I serve. The main thing here is not to philosophise — hardly anyone needs academic lessons in theology. One must convey the word of Christ to people in such a way that repentance is awakened in them.
I love Metropolitan Anthony of Sourozh. I saw him in 1988, when he came for the celebration of the millennium of the Baptism of Rus. Vladyka Anthony said to me then: "Father Petro, when you come to a parish, do not preach with clever words. No one needs them. It was like that with me at first. After my ordination I began to serve and to preach — and everyone wept. I thought: see how I have touched their hearts. But after the service people came up and said: 'Vladyka, we liked it very much, but tell us, what were you talking about?'" Yes, one can speak about the dogmas, about the Trinity. And one can say that the head of the church is Christ, and not Istanbul, not Moscow, not Kyiv. One can tell people how to live righteously, how to repent.
In a word, if one is too clever, one can overreach. Sometimes we learn beautiful quotations by heart and cannot explain them; all that remains is to hope that the Lord will reveal it.
— Which of the saints has influenced your life most?
— When I entered the seminary, books on theology were not available in such quantity and accessibility as now. One day my father brought home an old book; someone had given it to him "for roll-ups". And in this book there was a description of the history of the Kyiv Caves Lavra. It was precisely in it that I first learned that in the Lavra the priests read the Six Psalms, and that with the coming of the antichrist, instead of a priest, the angels will sing "Glory to God in the highest!" That was the first book that amazed me.
I was also impressed by the book about the life of Varlaam of the Caves and Feofil of Kyiv, the fool for Christ's sake. Feofil I read at the seminary in a single night.
When I began to read the lives of the saints, I understood that this is the action of the grace of the Holy Spirit and the Gospel unfolded, presented through a human life.
The more you read the lives of the saints, the more each of them amazes you to the depths of the soul. Therefore I cannot single out any one of them. I love all the saints of the Lavra. I always read the troparion to Spyrydon, to Kharalampii, to Basil the Great, to John Chrysostom, to Panteleimon, to Barbara; I greatly love and venerate Catherine, Paraskeva, Anastasia. And also Xenia of St Petersburg, who has helped me many times, and Matrona of Moscow.
I think that if a person reads at least the life of his heavenly patron and knows at least the troparion to his heavenly patron, a new and deeper meaning of life will open to him
— What summing up can I make about myself? I know that I was a sinner, that I am a sinner, and the one thing I hope is that I shall not be a sinner to the end. I thank God and my parents, by whose love and by God's mercy I was born.
A man cannot of himself come into this world unless it be God's will. God can bring a man into this world without the man's own consent, out of His love, but He does not intervene in a man's life without that man's consent. Because that would be a violation of the freedom of his will.
Therefore the summing up about me can be made by the brethren themselves, by the people who come and see. And I can only say: "Woe is me, a sinner, woe!"
— What would Vladyka Pavel say to the young Petro Lebid from Borbyn, who was still living with his mother and father and had no idea what responsibility awaited him in adult life?
— I would say: "Petro, live in piety and love God more." There has been much in my life. And there was no priest to guide me from childhood. Yes, in the morning I hurried to the service, but in the evening I was at a dance in the club. I did not take from life everything I might have wanted, nor is that needed, but I wished to be an example in the good sense of the word. Somehow something came of it. So to that young man I would say: "Love God still more and serve your neighbour!"
— What would Vladyka Pavel say to himself, but now to Petro Lebid the seminarian?
— Study more. Enter more deeply into the teaching. Only do not try to penetrate it by your own mind; ask God to give you the gifts of the Holy Spirit. I tried to draw in everything I could, I laboured. Even then I managed to read the greater part of the Lives of the Saints (the 12-volume set). I loved and still love to read and re-read the works of John Chrysostom.
What else would I say?
Study and hurry to church. Open the church and close the church by your presence. Do not hurry to look at the cunning world, for it lies in evil; hold rather to the robe of the Lord.
Live with God and live by God.
— What would Vladyka Pavel say to Archimandrite Pavel, who in 1994 was appointed abbot and came to restore the Kyiv Caves Lavra?
— Acquire humility and meekness. Learn patience, which I did not have and to this day do not have. I cannot say that I have joined in myself, or can reach up to, my spiritual patrons — the Apostle Peter and the Apostle Paul. It is unattainable — both the wisdom of the Apostle Paul and the zeal of the Apostle Peter! Though of Peter's zeal there has always been much in me. If I see a goal, I do not see obstacles. To this day I cannot say what a trial in a man's life is. In part we create them ourselves.
I remember very well July 1985, when we were sitting with Father Mykhail under three chestnut trees on the territory of the Upper Lavra and I said to him: "If only one could live to the time when the Dormition cathedral will be built, when the lamp of monasticism will be lit here. To the abbot who might revive this I would kiss not only his hand but would make a multitude of prostrations to him."
Exactly 9 years later the Lord not merely gave me the opportunity, He gave me the mercy — and I became that abbot on whose shoulders fell the building of the Dormition cathedral and the bringing of the Lavra's territory into the state proper to it. People come here who draw spirituality here, and see the glory of God, and look upon the labours of the holy people who live and who have lived.
To that Archimandrite Pavel who came to the Lavra in 1994 I would say: "You have been unspeakably fortunate in life, Pavel! You have the opportunity to delight in the Divine love and in the joy which the Lord has given you."
— Vladyka, tell us about your studies at the Trinity-Sergius Lavra?
— I came to the Trinity-Sergius Lavra on 21 July 1984, after the army.
I returned from the army in 1983 and for the first year after my return I "got on my feet", prepared for the entrance examinations and saved money for the journey.
I was afraid to go to Moscow; I persuaded Father Feodor (now departed, the Kingdom of Heaven be his) to go with me to take my documents, and although he was not very willing, he agreed. It was very difficult then. Believers were compelled to hide and to conceal themselves, sometimes even in the trees (!), to escape pursuit. After I was admitted, searches were carried out in our house for three weeks.
The beauty of the Trinity-Sergius Lavra conquered my soul at once. I loved it with all my heart. And the first thing that struck me was the first service. It happened to be the feast of the Exaltation of the Precious Cross of the Lord. I did not understand where I was — on earth or in heaven?
— Was it hard to get in?
— Of course. Then, in 1984, 800 people applied (and in the end only 100 were taken). I hoped, of course, but I very much doubted that I would be accepted. I got a 5 for my composition. At the audition my voice trembled badly from nerves. Then, I remember, Mark Kharytonovych (he himself is from Ukraine) asked: "Petro, can you sing something simpler, 'Tsvite teren', for instance?" I sang it. He says: "Good, there is a voice; leave Allemanov for singers with a broad chest."
Something else struck me. When people were applying, everyone around was so pious. But when the lists were read out, one could hear swearing and abuse and worse. Someone would come out and immediately start smoking cigarettes.
Our vice-rector, Mykhailo Stepanovych, constantly put to us one and the same thing, whether a question or a reproach: "Why have you come here? With what purpose?" At the time this irritated me greatly. Much later I asked him what it was for. To which Mykhailo Stepanovych replied: "Petro, in the church there must be believing people. Otherwise, who usually comes here? People of three categories, all beginning with 'p': 'the succession of the throne', 'a following wind' and 'by calling'.
'The succession of the throne' — these are people who decided to serve the Church because their forebears were priests, and they followed the tradition of their family. 'A following wind' — those who came for various reasons, only not out of love for God. One because of a dream of wearing the klobuk, another for the sake of power or money. And only 'by calling' — those who really ought to become ministers of the church. A priest must serve God and people. So people of the first two categories will feel uncomfortable at my question, they will think twice, and perhaps change their minds, while the third category will remain."
Later I understood the wisdom of his words. Many abandoned their studies without even having begun the labour of service. Some thought that they would put on the klobuk and people would kiss their hand — and so it would be easy and fine. But no. If it has fallen to your lot to give your life for God, for your neighbours, you must give it. Your only task is to ask God for help, that He may strengthen you and your faith on this path. There is no greater labour than to give one's life for one's neighbours.
In general those were splendid years at the seminary. I had a specialised secondary education — in cookery — and so I appeared in the kitchen every day. And I also laboured in Father Kronid's prosphora bakery. I prepared the altar prosphoras and the artos loaves. I stood at the rolling out of the dough for all the prosphoras. We had up to 30 thousand prosphoras in the baking.
— Vladyka, tell us about Father Kirill (Pavlov); what sort of man was this great spiritual father of three patriarchs, a soldier who went through the whole war?
— His life amazed me. I used to go to his readings. He sat on a little stool, I sat to his left, and to his right was an enormous sack of notes as tall as himself, which had to be read, and in the corner an even bigger sack of notes already read. I even offered to help him, but he refused; he considered that he must do it himself, since there was a blessing for it.
About 20 people came to him for the reading of the Gospel; first he read himself, then he gave me the "Philokalia" and the Old Testament to read. And at the end of this reading he gave each of us a sweet. They were "Mishka kosolapy" caramels, or a piece of bread with a piece of sturgeon. And this treat was sweeter to us than honey, tastier than anything in the world! We were not hungry, we were fed very well at the seminary, but from the father's hands any food was the best on earth.
He was a man of astonishing meekness. On his name day he always hid himself, out of modesty, to avoid words of praise addressed to him. We had a schemamonk Moisei, who in the world had been the author of a textbook of algebra and geometry; he was already an old man, and sometimes at the Liturgy he would begin to snore. My friends and I used to laugh at him. One of my closest friends was Father Afanasii. He received the tonsure on the day his mother died, whom he loved very much. But he did not go to her funeral; he said that he would meet her There, and here on earth he would go on praying for the time being. And so, when the schemamonk Moisei began to snuffle, Father Afanasii touched him lightly with a finger under the ribs, and Father Kirill reproved him for it: "Father Afanasii, do not touch him, he is conversing with the angels." How much love for one's neighbour there is in those simple words! This is what I try to pass on to the brethren.
There were a great many different moments. I remember our fathers, great men of prayer — Father Kirill, Father Modest, Kronid, Afanasii, Father Lavrentii, Father Trifon — almost all were from Ukraine. They would sit down to read the satirical magazine "Perets" or "Krokodil" and laugh like children!
In general, Father Kirill was a man of holy life! We have many bishops, but elders of the stature of Father Kirill and Father Avramii we have not. I remember, I had already become a bishop and came to him in Peredelkino. I go in, we sit down, we are talking, and he looks at me so attentively and says: "Are you a bishop? Or will you soon be a bishop?" I keep silent, because I know that if I answer that I am a bishop, he will ask for a blessing. And who am I, that an elder should take a blessing from me? He asks a second time: "Are you a bishop?" And at that moment Hieromonk Filaret runs in with the words: "Vladyka, bless!" Father Kirill exclaims: "What a rogue!" — and at once falls at my feet: "Bless me!" I tried to refuse, and he said to me: "You have the authority!" Then he takes down the icon of the Trinity and blesses me, and afterwards says: "Do not do that again."
— With whom from the seminary do you still keep up relations?
— I try to keep up good relations with everyone who is in my memory. I still keep in touch with Father Vitalii Kosovskyi, with whom I studied. There is also Father Mykhail, who now serves in Diveyevo.
And Father Melchisedek from Optina Pustyn, Father Ilarion — assistant to the dean of the Trinity-Sergius Lavra.
Among the bishops — Vladyka Georgii of Nizhny Novgorod, Vladyka Feodosii of Tambov, Vladyka Rostislav of Tomsk, Vladyka Gedeon and Vladyka Iakov, Vladyka Kirill of Pokrov — from among those with whom I studied.
All these are people with whom I truly still preserve brotherly relations.
— In general, Vladyka, is it easy for you to make friends, to keep up friendly relations?
— If I offer my friendship and people do not respond, I do not impose myself. And one must take into account that I am a fairly straightforward man, and not everyone likes that. Ranks are not important to me; what is important is ease in conversation.
I always remember my predecessor at the Lavra — Vladyka Yelevferii. He was a most intelligent man. He used to say: "When you are rising upward, look who is standing at your sides. Because when you are falling down, you should know how and to whom to bow."
That is the truth of life.
When a man soars up, he does not remember who gave him a hand, who gave him a copeck, who helped him with a word, a deed, an article or a piece in the media. On the contrary, more often a man begins to oppress those who served him, in order to erase that help from his memory. He is hardly likely to repent, and yet only repentance sets a man right.
— Your favourite teachers at the seminary?
Unfortunately they are no longer alive. Metropolitan Iona of Astrakhan loved me very much. When he stayed with me at the Lavra for the last time, he lay down on the bed and said to me: "My dear Vladyka, if I had known that you would become abbot of the Kyiv Caves Lavra, I would not have given you even a three, let alone a two!" I studied not badly, but because I liked to prompt others I often got a scolding or bad marks from him.
Vladyka Aleksii (Frolov) of Kostroma taught the history of the Russian Church. Thanks to him I came to love the Lives of the Saints. Without fail, 20 minutes before the end of the second lesson, he would read us the Lives of the Saints.
Father Ioann Maslov, the Hlynsk elder, taught us liturgics. This was not simply a man but a real spiritual treasure chest, a storehouse of spiritual wisdom.
Heorhii Tartyshnykov, Mark Kharytonovych (who taught singing), Father Platon taught us moral theology. Professor Oleksii Illich Osipov was very small, and so, when we angered him, he said that all our heads should be cut off so that we would be as clever as he was.
I had very close relations with Father Venedikt. He once said to me: "I shall direct your life, but I shall never hear your confession, because I am the superior and you are the subordinate."
Every teacher of the theological seminary was a particular, unique personality.
— Tell us about your decision to become a monk. When did that thought come?
When my mother arrived, her first question was: "And why are you alive?" "It happened so. I have decided to go to a monastery." My mother would not hear of it. Father Bohdan, with whom I was very friendly, even reproached me: "What are you doing to your parents? What do you want with monasticism?" But I said that I had already decided everything. After that I was ordained as a celibate. Father Iona asked me to remain at the academy as assistant dean, but I had to return home — it was hard for my family (my mother and younger sisters) without me, and they had to be helped.
It is true that in 1985 I asked to go to Athos. There were hardly any monasteries here then. But only monks with a "record" of not less than 5 years were sent to Athos. So I was sent home.
On the feast of Cyril and Methodius in 1987 I was ordained deacon, and the question of the priesthood arose. Vladyka Varlaam said that he would take me as a priest. And on 7 January 1988 I was sent to Lutsk, and there I was ordained to the rank of presbyter.
— You have already said a little about it, but could you now tell us in more detail about your parents' reaction?
— Before the tonsure I came home. As I remember it now, my father was in the barn throwing out the manure, and so I went first to my mother. And I say: "Mama, I have decided to receive monasticism." She answers: "Only over my dead body." But here one must understand that these were the 1980s! Monasticism was akin to disgrace! At that time Soviet propaganda distorted the monastic image in every possible way. Monks were thieves and liars and traitors and something still more frightening and terrible. So I did not insist; I decided to wait for my father, when he should be free and come back into the house.
My father came back, stood at the threshold and asked straight out: "What? Have you decided on the monastery?" "Yes." My father answers quite calmly: "Well, God be your help! Only do not disgrace the path you have chosen." Then I asked: "But mother is against it, she says only over her dead body." My father again answered calmly: "She will not be lying down. And if she does, we shall bury her as is fitting. You are 28 years old, you must choose your own path."
— Your father was a Protestant, is that right?
— Yes, my father was a Protestant. But after I received the tonsure, in time he agreed to come over to Orthodoxy and was baptised. The Lord showed him His mercy in this way — he knew of his own end, and managed to gather us all together and bless us. My father was in general a man of unbelievable kindness and simplicity.
— And in the end, how did you manage to persuade your mother?
— After my father's answer no one persuaded her. She fussed about, sighed, took out the household icon, made the sign of the cross over me with it — and that was all. My father often used to correct my mother if she did something not as he thought right. I remember he kept saying to her: "Is it so hard for you to give? You know that if you share with your neighbour, the Lord will give you still more!" He always taught me: "Do not have a hundred roubles, have a hundred friends." What is money? And that is true. If it were not for the people I came to know, there would be no Lavra such as you saw today. Only thanks to God and to friends am I still walking in this world.
— Please recall your tonsure?
— I was to receive monasticism in the autumn, but Vladyka Varlaam fell gravely ill. And only after his recovery did he bless the tonsure for 26 June, the feast of the venerable Onuphrius.
A great many people came. Vladyka asked what name I wanted; I answered: "Serafim, Varlaam, Antonii." He smiled and said: "You want a lot." "Only not Pavel, or I shall walk out of the tonsure!" — I asked him then.
The thing is that in my family the Pavels were unlucky men. My elder brother Pavlo died, having drunk kerosene. My uncle, my father's brother, also Pavlo, in 1963 got into a fight at his school leaving party, in which one of the lads died of a knife wound. All the lads, including my uncle Pavlo, were exiled to Siberia to a settlement. My third brother Pavlo is a hundred times better than I am, but he loves the "green serpent", and the serpent defeats him every time. And now at the tonsure I hear: "Our brother Pavel". It made me shudder. I wanted to say: "Vladyka, that is not what we agreed." But obedience is above all. Now I do not even answer to the name Petro. I came to love my saint very much. I hope that he loves me too. I have grown together with this name today.
— Formerly you were very strict in matters of fasting and preparation for communion, and then you understood that love is more important than the typicon. When did this change occur?
— Love for people I had before, and I have it now, as it seems to me. In the parish I loved everyone and helped everyone as I could. Now, with age, I have become more sentimental. As Vladyka Vasilii of Kirovohrad used to say: "When you begin to weep at the sight of people's misfortunes, it means that old age and death are drawing near."
Yes, perhaps I used to be harsher, but I do not regret having been so.
Until I became a diabetic myself I did not understand why one has to take tablets before communion. I thought, well, receive communion and then take your tablets. Now it is no longer so simple.
Understanding of people comes when you yourself find yourself in the same situation, when you yourself fall ill or come into trouble.
But strictness must be there all the same. At that time my zeal and strictness led to all the couples in Novovolynsk being married in church. Whole families were married. It happened that I married 15 couples at once — parents, children, and sometimes grandchildren too. For the times were such that for 70 years no one allowed anybody to be married in a human way.
But in matters of marriage I am strict to this day. And even now I can say to married couples: "If you are not married in church, I shall not give you communion!" But I say it with love.
Strictness must be there in any case. I, for example, am not in favour of receiving communion every day, or even every week.
When I came to Jerusalem for the first time, my hair stood on end at the thought that this is the land of my Lord. And now I have come for the 60th time, and what of it? Well, yes, Jerusalem, the church. We shall serve. We shall go in there, we shall dine here…
When I first came to the Lavra, I always went round all the venerable fathers of the Caves. And today I have particles of relics in my cell, and I go by no means every day, but the former awe is no longer there. You grow used to it, and this mystery of God's touch upon your soul slips away from you little by little. Therefore in everything there must be measure, there must be discernment and an awed, but not a servile, love and attitude towards holy things.
Go to the Lord each time as though for the first. Because you will relax, and you will miss the meeting with God.
— They say that Metropolitan Filaret (Denysenko), at the opening of the Lavra, was against the old brethren returning to it?
— I have not heard that. I heard something else: that he said a few monks were enough in the Lavra for the celebration of the services. Many are not needed.
— And the first thing you did was to bring the elders back to the Lavra; why?
— When I came to the Lavra, I was very anxious. There were very few brothers here, there was no spiritual father. In Kyiv I too knew hardly anyone; there was not even anyone to turn to except His Beatitude. Then I went to Metropolitan Volodymyr, and he instructed me. On his advice I decided to find a spiritual father for the Lavra. That was the very first thing. For some time we looked for Father Avramii and prevailed on him to return. But it turned out that some of the brethren were against Father Avramii's return. Then I said sternly: "Father Avramii will be here as long as I am alive and as long as I am in the Lavra."
After that I invited Father Antonii, the gardener. Then I brought back Father Varlaam. These are the first monks who were tonsured.
In 1994 there were 35 of us in all, then 25 remained. It was precisely with these 25 people that we began the restoration of the Lavra.
— When you brought the elders back to the Lavra, what did you feel?
— I thank God that we did not have many elderly monks. The Lavra needed physical strength. Young monastics and elderly monks often do not entirely understand one another. All the more so now, in the age of gadgets, monks have become far freer in their views and actions than the elderly monks who were brought up in strictness. The young have a certain "leaven of freedom". Of course, among the elders, Father Avramii was an enormous support and a power of prayer for me.
He was a man of holy life. We thought that he was in his cell and knew little of the life of the brethren, but when you came to him before an important meeting, he would tell you such things that one could only wonder where he knew it all from, and which of us was the abbot at all. He could say everything about everyone. In 2020 it was 66 years of his monasticism! And he departed to the Lord on the very day he had come to the monastery — on the Nativity of the Mother of God. I constantly felt his prayerful support. I did not go to him for advice, because to any question of mine he answered: "And what do you think?" I would answer. And he would say to me: "Yes, my dear Vladyka, I think just as you do!" I would frown, and he would say again: "My dear Vladyka, if you do everything splendidly yourself, where can I put in my advice? And how am I to advise on what I do not understand. I only pray for you!" I leave with His Beatitude at 4 in the morning, and Father Avramii is at his window blessing me. I arrive at three at night — again he is at the window blessing me. You ask him — how are things? And he is delighted: "My dear Vladyka, there is everything! Hot water, cold water! I have 5 rooms!!" He was always content with everything and grateful.
Such eldership one wants to preserve and to bless.
I am in general for the restoration of the old traditions. I always try to revive what once was, and not to bring in anything of my own.
— Your hardest period at the Lavra?
— I cannot even say. It is not hard to serve God. What hard period can there be for me if God is with me? The venerable Anthony the Great said: "Children, if I am with God, I am ready to go even into hell." To which he was asked: "Father, you have spent so many days in the desert and you want to go to hell? Why?" To which he answered: "The main thing is to be with God. Where God is, there is no hell."
Yes, with the appearance of the OCU and the persecutions of the canonical faith I thought that people would stop helping the Lavra altogether, but that did not happen. People still make donations for the building and renewal of churches. We wanted to paint the Dormition cathedral and little by little we are putting it into effect. After the death of Father Avramii in 2020, his spiritual child, living far abroad, donated money for the paintings.
I thought that my brothers and I would have nothing to eat after these persecutions, but no, the Lord gives us everything needful, and even in abundance.
— Which of the contemporary theologians do you like?
— There are many. I very much love to listen to His Beatitude Metropolitan Onufriy and to the rector, Vladyka Sylvester. In general, I always preach when I serve. The main thing here is not to philosophise — hardly anyone needs academic lessons in theology. One must convey the word of Christ to people in such a way that repentance is awakened in them.
I love Metropolitan Anthony of Sourozh. I saw him in 1988, when he came for the celebration of the millennium of the Baptism of Rus. Vladyka Anthony said to me then: "Father Petro, when you come to a parish, do not preach with clever words. No one needs them. It was like that with me at first. After my ordination I began to serve and to preach — and everyone wept. I thought: see how I have touched their hearts. But after the service people came up and said: 'Vladyka, we liked it very much, but tell us, what were you talking about?'" Yes, one can speak about the dogmas, about the Trinity. And one can say that the head of the church is Christ, and not Istanbul, not Moscow, not Kyiv. One can tell people how to live righteously, how to repent.
In a word, if one is too clever, one can overreach. Sometimes we learn beautiful quotations by heart and cannot explain them; all that remains is to hope that the Lord will reveal it.
— Which of the saints has influenced your life most?
— When I entered the seminary, books on theology were not available in such quantity and accessibility as now. One day my father brought home an old book; someone had given it to him "for roll-ups". And in this book there was a description of the history of the Kyiv Caves Lavra. It was precisely in it that I first learned that in the Lavra the priests read the Six Psalms, and that with the coming of the antichrist, instead of a priest, the angels will sing "Glory to God in the highest!" That was the first book that amazed me.
I was also impressed by the book about the life of Varlaam of the Caves and Feofil of Kyiv, the fool for Christ's sake. Feofil I read at the seminary in a single night.
When I began to read the lives of the saints, I understood that this is the action of the grace of the Holy Spirit and the Gospel unfolded, presented through a human life.
The more you read the lives of the saints, the more each of them amazes you to the depths of the soul. Therefore I cannot single out any one of them. I love all the saints of the Lavra. I always read the troparion to Spyrydon, to Kharalampii, to Basil the Great, to John Chrysostom, to Panteleimon, to Barbara; I greatly love and venerate Catherine, Paraskeva, Anastasia. And also Xenia of St Petersburg, who has helped me many times, and Matrona of Moscow.
I think that if a person reads at least the life of his heavenly patron and knows at least the troparion to his heavenly patron, a new and deeper meaning of life will open to him
Prepared by Anastasiia Bielousova
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