Orthodox America
When in 1480 Moscow's Grand Prince Ivan III forced the Tatars
to renounce their claim to the Russian tribute, it signaled Russia's liberation
from the Mongol yoke and confirmed Moscow's ascendancy over the other Russian
principalities. Indeed, whether by diplomacy or force, by 1517 Yaroslav, Rostov,
Perm, Tver, Viatka, Novgorod, Pskov, Riazan--all had come under the aegis of
Moscow. It was with some justification, therefore, that in 1547, when Grand
Prince Ivan IV of Moscow reached his majority, he chose for himself the title
"Tsar (Caesar) of All Russia."
Moscow absolutism may be said to have come of age
under Ivan IV, but it had been developing already for some time. With the Fall
of Constantinople in 1453, Moscow inherited Byzantium's position of preeminence
in the Orthodox Christian world, and gradually adopted the Byzantine model of
government--a holy alliance between Church and State-in which ultimate authority
over both the secular and ecclesiastical realms reared with the political ruler.
Such a concentration of power demanded the restraint of a profoundly Christian
conscience-something which few rulers, Byzantine or Russian, were able to
exercise with any constancy.
As one historian has justly observed, "The purest,
sublimest ideal is subject to deterioration when it is realized
concretely." [1] The Byzantine model was wide open to
abuse, and in Russia's first "tsar," Ivan IV, this weakness was
exploited to an extreme. True, his bloody excesses can largely be explained by a
pathological fear of intrigue, a fear rooted in the traumatic circumstances of a
childhood which witnessed the volatile treachery of boyars constantly jockeying
for power during his mother's regency (his father Basil III died in 1533 when
Ivan was only three years old). But his despotic temperament--which earned him
history's epithet "the Terrible" or "the Dread'--was not simply
the tragic outcome of a tormented Psychology. It was unwittingly nurtured by the
virtual absolutism which the Byzantine model conferred upon the reigning
sovereign. This absolutism was supported by certain Church figures. St. Joseph
of Volokolamsk, a vigorous proponent of the close connection between Church and
State, wrote to Ivan's father:. "If the sovereign is like to all men as
regards his human nature, he is like to God as regards his power."
In theory, of course, St. Joseph recognized the Church as
supreme; the sovereign's highest duty was to concern himself with the good of
the Church. But in thus idealizing the role of the sovereign, the Church
effectively cornered itself into a position of submission; hierarchs who
criticized the misdeeds of their sovereigns were all to frequently silenced with
a reminder of the sovereign's divine right, and those who nobly challenged this
interpretation courted deposition, banishment, even death.
Given this historic background, we can more fully appreciate
the lofty spiritual exploit of Metropolitan Philip of Moscow, whose defense of
the Church's sovereignty was rewarded by a martyr's death.
Theodore Kolychev, the future hierarch of Moscow, was born in 1507 in a
boyar family. His father occupied an important post at the court of Basil III as
guardian of Ivan IV's brother, Grand Duke Yuri. His mother was very pious, and
when her husband died she became a nun and founded the St. Barsanouphy convent
in Moscow. Whether influenced by his mother or repelled by the intrigues and
strife which characterized court life, Theodore had no desire' to' follow in the
~family tradition of civil service. His genuine love for the Scriptures and
Lives of Saints-which for centuries served as the core of education in
Russia--Inspired his heart with a longing for monasticism, not as a profession
or a way of life, but as a means towards the closest possible union with God.
However, unlike many of his rank who preferred monastic tonsure, Theodore did
not choose to settle comfortably in one of the wealthy monasteries in Moscow's
environs; rather, he directod his steps into the farthest reaches of Russia's
"Northern Thebaid," to the White Sea archipelago of Solovki.
In the century since its establishment by Stis. Znsima and
Sabbatius, the monastery of Solovki had become an important religious center.
Nevertheless, when the young boyar arrived there in 1537, its physical estate
still reflected the stark conditions of its northern latitude.
Concealing his noble birth, the thirty-year old Kolychev presented
himself to the abbot, Alexis, who assigned him to various obediences designed to
test the intentions of the monastic aspirant. Fortified by his desire for
spiritual perfection, Theodore proved himself equal to the heavy manual labor as
woodcutter and baker's apprentice, and steadfastly endured the humiliations and
bearings which fell upon him. Within a year he had proven himself and was
tonsured with the name Philip.
Under the guidance of the elder Jonah, a disciple of St.
Alexander of Svir, Philip continued to make rapid spiritual progress. His hard
work and humility soon made him a favorite with the brethren. But seeking
greater spiritual concentration., he withdrew before long into the forest where
he spent several years in solitary struggle. This was interuppted when the aging
Abbot Alexis fell ill and called upon Philip to replace him. At the unanimous
decision of the brethren, this position became permanent upon the abbot's
repose.
During his eighteen years as superior, Philip manifested
outstanding administrative talents. Using his patrimonial inheritance, he set
out with tremendous energy to replace the monastery's wooden structures--which
had suffered from fire not long before---with buildings of stone and brick
manufactured by a brickyard which he established. He developed the production of
salt to increase the monastery’s revenues and finance the many improvements he
effected. He enlarged the refectory and built large complexes of cells for the
monks, who numbered about 200 at that time. By an ingenious system of canals he
joined 52 small ponds on the island, forming a fresh-water lake whose waters
were channeled to .,drive a mill. On the seashore he Setup windmills, built a
wharf, a hospital and a guesthouse for pilgrims. He introduced herds of reindeer
whose skins were processed by the brethren into footwear and clothing for the
monks. Philip himself participated in the physical labor which thus transformed
the monastery, crowning it with the construction of two great cathedrals
dedicated to the Feasts of Dormition and Transfiguration.
With the many improvements in the monastery's physical plant,
Philip in no way relaxed the established spiritual standards which were the just
cause for the monastery's renown. His spiritual governance extended also over
the many laymen who worked both on the island and on the monastery's
considerable holdings on the mainland. He saw to it that the rights of peasants
under his jurisdiction were protected by charters, and they were granted the
right of grievance --no small compensation considering the injustices which
flourished under autocratic rule.
In 1550 Philip went to Moscow to take part in the Council
which promulgated vast administrative reforms and drew up a compendium of rules
(the Hundred Chapters or "Stoglav’) aimed at strengthening ecclesiastical
discipline. There he gained a favorable impression of the young Tsar Ivan IV,
who was not without merit as a ruler. Ten years later, however, he had to revise
his opinion when he learned from the Tsar's exiled spiritual advisor, the priest
Sylvester, of the calamitous change which had overtaken the young monarch, and
the fear which the populace now suffered in consequence of his excessive
suspicion and the vengeance he wreaked on plotters and would-he plotters, real
and imagined.
His
Road to Golgotha
It was. therefore, with understandable reluctance that Philip
accepted the Tsar's invitation to become chief primate of Moscow. The position
had been vacated by the resignation of Athanasius who was frustrated by the
silent subordination expected of him. Philip held no illusions about any ideal
symphony to be played out between himself and the Tsar as rulers of Church and
State. But he was determined not to be a mere figurehead, a Kremlin adornment.
Before his installation he set forth certain conditions. Among them, he
requested that the Tsar dissolve the Oprichniki, his elite bodyguard whose
bloody sprees transfixed the populace in a state of terror. The Tsar was enraged
by Philip's audacity in "meddling" in his domestic affairs.
Nevertheless, he did concede to Philip the right of intercession, which had been
abolished the previous year. And with this promise Philip was enthroned as
Metropolitan of Moscow on July 25, 1566. The Tsar himself handed the hierarch
the crozier of his new office, asked his prayers and wished him health and long
life, Who at that moment could have guessed that the stormy clash which had
heralded Philip's enthronement presaged his martyrdom less than three years
later.
|
“If I do not bear witness to
the truth, I render myself unworthy of my office as a bishop. If I bow
to men’s will, what shall I find to answer Christ on the day of the
Judgment?” (Metropolitan Philip to Tsar Ivan IV) |
Indeed, over the next eighteen months the cloud of fear was gone from the
capital. Ivan’s interest was spent on a war with Livonia, and the streets of
Moscow were filled once again with normal concerns of daily life, while the
Metropolitan was at liberty to attend his new responsibilities he consecrated
bishops, presided over synods, invigorated the spiritual life of his vast
archbishopric, consoled victims of a plague which swept through the country that
year, and continued his spiritual and material support of the island monastery
he had left with such reluctance. This period of normalcy was, however, buts
brief interlude in a prominently tempestuous era.
The Tsar returned from the Livonian campaign in the fall of
1567, irritated by his lack of success, only to discover evidence of a
conspiracy between the boyars and Poland's King Sigismund, In his unrestrained
fury, the Tsar gave rein to the Oprichniki, and in no time these hatchet men
turned the streets of Moscow into rivers of blood. Russia's cup of suffering was
overflowing, and Philip fearlessly hastened to the Tsar to exercise his right of
intercession. The irate despot commanded him to hold his tongue, but the voice
of truth would not be silenced. Both in private audiences and in public, the
Metropolitan sought every opportunity to point out to the Tsar the error of his
ways.
"Mighty Tsar," he exclaimed, "you are invested
with the highest dignity, almost a divine dignity. But the earthly sceptre is
but a reflection of the heavenly one....He alone can in truth call himself
sovereign who is master of himself, who is not subject to his passions and
conquers by charity....In Russia charity no longer exists, even for the good and
innocent. The stones under your feet will cry out if the living refrain from
accusing you and judging you. It is my duty to tell you this by the will of God,
even if death awaits me for doing so."
Indeed, no one had ever dared address such a bold rebuke to
"the Terrible" Tsar, and Philip knew that he had sealed his fate with
his own lips. The Tsar interpreted his sympathy for the people as complicity
with the boyars. Inasmuch as there was no evidence for this, other charges were
brought; a trial was staged, and the courageous hierarch, accused of sorcery and
other imaginary crimes, was deposed and sentenced to imprisonment in a
monastery. But even as he was moved from one monastery to another, farther and
farther from the capital, the people followed him with their love. This
infuriated the Tsar who finally sent one of his Oprichniki to the Metropolitan
on a mission of murder. The Metropolitan foresaw that his end was near mad had
prepared himself by receiving the Holy Mysteries. The Tsar's envoy arrived on
pretext of getting a blessing. "My friend, do what you have come to
do," replied the Metropolitan simply, "and don't tempt me with your
false requests." The assassin suffocated his victim with a cushion. It was
December 23, 1569.
Twenty-one years later the Metropolitan's incorrupt relics
were moved to Solovki, and in 1652, under the reign of the pious Tsar Alexis
Michailovich, the relics were transferred to Moscow, to the Dormition cathedral
in the Kremlin.
Metropolitan Philip is commemorated by the Church on January
9, July 3, and again on October 5 as one of the five great hierarchs of Moscow,
as a "pillar of Orthodoxy, champion of the truth, a shepherd who hid down
his life for his flock."
[1] All quotations in this Life are taken from Corntontine deGrunwald’s Saints of Russia, Hutchison of London (1960)
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