The Fiery Protopope

On the Archpriest (Protopope) Avvakum

Today’s post is a narrative on the life of the Protopope Avvakum, the historical face of the resistance to Nikon’s reforms. As many of you know, Avvakum wrote an autobiography that is of great importance to Russian literature. Tolstoy said he could not read it without being brought to tears. Leskov kept it at his bedside, and the work also profoundly influenced Dostoevsky, who said once that his life could never be adequately translated into another language. This may be true - he does not speak in the more timeless manner of rhetorical polish, but unapologetically with the idioms of his day. Even in translation, you can sense that his manner of expression is unpolished, direct, and completely sincere.

But for those who are not aware of this most central story of the Nikonian Schism, this account below is a very well-written and informed narration by Kozhurin of the famous life. It is the story of how one man’s immovable zeal for his faith has such a profound impact on his time and people that history itself makes the man a symbol of the era. This is a highly engaging picture of the immense force that was Avvakum!

В Даурии дикой пустынной Отряд воеводы идет.
В отряде том поступью чинной Великий страдалец бредет.
Жена с ним и малые дети Изгнание вместе несут.
За правую проповедь в свете Жестокий им вынесен суд.

In the wild, desolate Dauria, A voivode’s detachment marches on.
In that troop, with a dignified stride, A great sufferer trudges along.
His wife and young children Bear the exile with him.
For his righteous preaching in the world, A cruel judgment has been passed.
– Old Believer spiritual verse “Avvakum in Exile”

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In the history of Old Belief, every individual is a vivid personality. Yet, even among other Old Believer figures, Avvakum stands out as a towering figure, akin to the New Testament apostles in his preaching and to the Old Testament prophets in his “fiery zeal” for faith. Truly, his entire, much-suffering life, spent in relentless struggle for truth, was a martyric feat for Christ. Not only through words but also through his life, the “heroic protopope” proved his devotion to Christian teachings.

Avvakum Petrovich Kondratyev was born on November 25, 1620, in the village of Grigorovo, Zakudemsky Stan, Nizhny Novgorod District (now Bolshoye Murashkino District, Nizhny Novgorod Oblast), into the family of a village priest, Peter Kondratyev, who served at the church dedicated to Saints Boris and Gleb. The main figures of the God-lovers’ movement were Avvakum’s fellow countrymen: Patriarch Nikon, Protopope Ioann Neronov, Bishop Pavel of Kolomna, and Archbishop Illarion of Ryazan. His life would later become closely intertwined with these individuals.

Avvakum’s mother, Maria (in monasticism, Marfa), a devout faster and prayerful woman, raised the children and instilled in them her fervent faith in Christ. Under her influence, Avvakum developed an inclination toward an ascetic life from a young age. He also owed his love for reading books to her.

Avvakum grew up as a sensitive child. Once, seeing a dead animal at a neighbor’s, he was so deeply shaken that he stood before icons at night, weeping for a long time, contemplating his soul and impending death. From then on, he grew accustomed to nocturnal prayer, which, according to St. John Chrysostom, is the most grace-filled.¹

At fifteen, Avvakum lost his father, and at seventeen, at his mother’s insistence, he married a modest village girl, Anastasia Markovna, the daughter of a blacksmith, who became his faithful companion and ally. At the age of twenty-one, he was ordained a deacon, and in 1643 (or 1644), he was appointed a priest in the village of Lopatitsy (Lopatishchi).

As a priest, Avvakum led a truly ascetic life. His entire existence became, in essence, a continuous act of worship. Before serving the Divine Liturgy, he barely slept, spending his time reading. When the time for Matins approached, he himself rang the bell, and when the awakened sexton arrived, he handed over the bell and went to the church to read the Midnight Office. The lengthy Matins was followed by the prayers for Holy Communion, which Avvakum also read himself. During the service, he taught his parishioners to stand with reverence and not leave the church until the dismissal. After the Liturgy, he delivered edifying sermons. After lunch and a two-hour rest, Avvakum resumed reading. Then came Vespers and Compline, followed by additional canons and prayers after supper. At night, in the dark, Avvakum performed prostrations: he made 300 prostrations, said 600 Jesus Prayers, and 100 prayers to the Mother of God. For his wife, who was equally strict in her asceticism from youth, he made an allowance, “since her little ones were crying”: 200 prostrations and 400 prayers.

Such conscientious and zealous fulfillment of his priestly duties and strict moral demands on himself and his flock attracted many people who wished to become his spiritual children. At the same time, it earned him many enemies who resented his stern rebukes. Avvakum fearlessly denounced the shortcomings and moral laxity of his parishioners, regardless of their wealth or status. “He doesn’t want to give alms to the poor,” Avvakum said of one parishioner, “and what he gives is laughable—a penny or half a penny, or a piece of dry crust. Yet he has thousands in silver and gold, and his dogs wear silk collars.”

The first conflict arose in Lopatitsy. Reproaching a local official for injustice, Avvakum was brutally beaten and dragged on the ground in his priestly vestments. Another official beat him and even tried to shoot him. Finally, in 1646, Avvakum’s property was confiscated, and he was expelled from the village.

The exiled Avvakum fled to Moscow. There, he found protection under the tsar’s confessor, Father Stefan Vnifantyev, and Father Ioann Neronov. He was presented to Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich and, with a royal charter, returned to Lopatitsy. However, in 1648, he was again expelled by local authorities and reappeared in Moscow.

This time, Avvakum stayed in the capital until 1652, actively participating in the circle of zealots for piety. One of the ideas persistently promoted by the God-lovers was the concept of “unison” worship. At that time, the liturgical practice of “polyphony” was widespread, where different parts of the service were performed simultaneously to shorten the duration of worship. This often led to abuses, as the meaning of the simultaneously read liturgical texts was lost on the worshippers.

In 1652, Avvakum was appointed protopope in Yuryevets Povolsky, where he arrived inspired by the zealots’ ideas of reforming church morals. However, within two months, his accusatory preaching, strict demands on his flock, and insistence on unison singing turned the Yuryevets clergy and people against him. “The devil incited the priests, peasants, and women: they came to the patriarchal office where I was handling spiritual matters, dragged me out, about a thousand or fifteen hundred of them, and beat me with sticks and trampled me in the street. Women came with levers, and for my sins, they beat me to death and threw me under the corner of a hut. The voivode with his gunners ran up, grabbed me, carried me off on horseback to my little yard, and placed gunners around it. The people stormed the yard, and great turmoil spread through the town.” Once again, Avvakum had to flee to Moscow.

At this time, Nikon became patriarch and actively began implementing church reforms. His innovations sparked widespread protests, which were met with immediate repressions. In 1653, Ioann Neronov, who opposed Nikon, was sent under strict supervision to Lake Kubenskoye. In August of the same year, Avvakum (who had replaced Neronov as the rector of the Kazan Cathedral on Red Square in Moscow) and Protopope Daniil of Kostroma submitted a petition to the tsar on Neronov’s behalf. This marked the beginning of open conflict between the zealots for piety and the new patriarch.

Avvakum preached rejection of Nikon’s “innovations.” “Come now! Rise and confess Christ, the Son of God, loudly before all! No more hiding. Even if they beat or burn you, glory be to the Lord God for it. Do not hesitate! Suffer for Christ with joy! The Russian land has been sanctified by the blood of martyrs.” His voice was authoritative yet clear, resonating in the hearts of ordinary people. He drew his conviction and imagery from Holy Scripture and the works of the holy fathers. “I am neither a rhetorician nor a philosopher… I am a simple man, full of ignorance… I am like a poor man walking the city streets, begging alms at windows. Having fed my household for the day, I set out again in the morning. So it is with me… From the rich man, King Christ, I beg a piece of bread from the Gospel; from the Apostle Paul, a wealthy guest, I beg a crumb from his chambers; from Chrysostom, a merchant, I receive a piece of his words; from King David and the prophet Isaiah, townsfolk, I beg a quarter loaf. Having filled my bag, I give to you, the dwellers in the house of my God.”

Refusing to obey Nikon’s order to pray according to the new books, Avvakum left the Kazan Cathedral and continued serving according to the old rite in a drying barn in Ioann Neronov’s courtyard. “For at times,” he said, “a stable is better than a church.” A significant portion of his flock followed him.

On August 13, 1653, while preaching against the innovations on the cathedral porch and saying “excessive words that should not be spoken” (from a letter by priest Ioann Danilov to Ioann Neronov, September 29, 1653), Avvakum was seized by Boris Neledinsky with musketeers during an all-night vigil in the drying barn and taken to the Patriarchal Court, where he was chained overnight. Sixty others seized with him were imprisoned and excommunicated from the church.

The next day, Sunday, Avvakum, in chains, was taken to the Androniev Monastery (on the Yauza River), where he was held for about a month. The tortures did not break the protopope’s iron will. On September 15, his defrocking was scheduled in the Kremlin’s Dormition Cathedral. However, at the personal request of Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich, Avvakum retained his priestly rank but was exiled to Tobolsk.

Two years later, when news reached Moscow that Avvakum had not ceased his denunciations of Nikon’s reforms and that his sermons were gaining popularity, an order came to send the disgraced protopope even farther—to the Lena River, to the Yakutsk fortress. However, Avvakum’s transfer there did not take place. In 1656, he was sent with the expedition of Voivode A.F. Pashkov to distant Dauria.

Pashkov’s campaign was fraught with all manner of hardships and dangers. They had to endure cold and hunger, face attacks from local tribes and wild animals. “Oh, what misery! High mountains, impassable thickets, stone cliffs standing like walls, making you crane your neck to look up! In those mountains dwell great serpents; there live geese and ducks with red feathers, black ravens, and gray jackdaws; in those same mountains are eagles, falcons, gyrfalcons, Indian fowl, swans, and other wild creatures—a vast multitude of various birds. Wild beasts roam those mountains: goats, deer, elk, boars, wolves, wild rams—before our very eyes, yet impossible to catch! To those mountains Pashkov drove me, to dwell with beasts, serpents, and birds… Then we reached Lake Irgen: there was a portage, and in winter we began to drag. The children were small, there were many mouths to feed, but no one to work: only the poor, wretched protopope made a sledge and dragged it all winter through the portage. Others had dogs in harness, but I had none; only my two sons, still small—Ivan and Prokopy—helped me pull the sledge, like little dogs. The portage was about a hundred versts; we barely made it through, the poor souls. The protopopitsa carried flour and a baby on her back; our daughter Agrafena trudged and trudged, then collapsed onto the sledge, and her brothers, along with me, slowly pulled it… The children would collapse exhausted in the snow, and their mother would give them a piece of gingerbread; eating it, they would pull the straps again… A barbaric land, hostile foreigners; we dared not fall behind the horses, yet we couldn’t keep up with them, hungry and weary people. The poor protopopitsa would trudge and trudge, then fall—how slippery it was! She would reproach me, saying, ‘How long, protopope, will this torment last?’ And I would say, ‘Markovna, until death itself!’ She would sigh and reply, ‘Very well, Petrovich, then we’ll keep trudging.’”

In addition to all this, Avvakum’s relations with Pashkov were strained. The voivode was a harsh man toward his subordinates, leading to sharp conflicts. More than once, the protopope felt the wrath of the “ruffian” voivode, who once beat him unconscious. But the Siberian torments eventually came to an end, partly due to Nikon’s removal from the patriarchal throne. During his eleven-year Siberian exile, Avvakum and his family endured immense suffering, including the loss of two sons.

Yet even in such inhumane conditions, the pious protopope never abandoned prayer or his personal rule. Avvakum had a remarkable memory. “At midnight, during the all-night vigil, I recite the morning Gospel from memory, standing on straw by the ice cellar, in just a shirt…” In his writings, he recalls entire texts from the Margarit, Paleya, Chronograph, and Explanatory Psalter. “When I was in Dauria… whether walking, dragging a sledge, fishing, or chopping wood in the forest, or doing something else, I would say my rule—Vespers, Matins, or the Hours, whatever was fitting… While riding in a sledge on Sundays, I would sing the entire church service at the stopping places; on ordinary days, I would sing while riding in the sledge; and sometimes even on Sundays, I would sing while moving… Just as a hungry body craves food and a thirsty one craves drink, so the soul desires spiritual nourishment.”

Avvakum was no stranger to the practice of “mental” prayer. “Lying on the stove, I recite psalms in my mind… Every word in prayers I say with understanding, and some prayers I repeat twice.” Prayer was for him the most important form of not only spiritual but also physical activity aimed at achieving salvation. In this understanding of prayer, Avvakum was close to the traditions of Byzantine hesychasm. The main representative of this Eastern Christian tradition, St. Gregory Palamas, established that the cosmos and human life are permeated with Divine grace, and communion with this grace is achieved through prayer. Avvakum taught similarly: “During prayer, the spirit surrounds me, my mind expands, and my heart is filled with inexpressible joy.”

Hesychasm profoundly influenced the worldview of medieval Russian Christians and, consequently, the worldview of Russian Old Believers, who continued to be bearers of medieval Russian culture. Hesychasm largely shaped the Russian approach to relating to the world and understanding it, which scholars call “cardiognosis” (i.e., “heart-knowledge”). This worldview inevitably clashed with the alien values of European humanism, which were actively imposed during the 17th-century “reforms.”

Besides prayer, the path to salvation was opened by true faith, repentance, suffering, and equally by grace, virtue, and “uncorrupted” sacraments. However, with Nikon’s reforms and the apostasy of the episcopate, questions arose: Where is the true Church? Where are the true sacraments? On one hand, true faith was unthinkable for Avvakum without the Church and its sacraments. On the other hand, he clearly understood that “not all are ordained by the Holy Spirit, but the Spirit works through all, except heretics.” Thus, Avvakum did not tie the true Church solely to the official hierarchy: “The Church is heaven… Not walls, but laws make the Church.”

Now that the episcopate and higher clergy had abandoned the teachings and practices of the ancient Church, individuals were left to choose their path to salvation. This gave special significance to the idea of personal responsibility for a Christian in both secular and ecclesiastical life. Regardless of one’s place in the social or spiritual hierarchy, each person is personally accountable to God for their deeds and faith. “In their folly, people say… ‘God will not hold us accountable for lawful deeds and faith; what is it to us? The patriarchs, metropolitans, archbishops, and bishops have betrayed us, so we do as they do…’ I appeal to your conscience, for the rational God is clearly within you.”

In 1661, through the intercession of his Moscow friends, Avvakum was permitted to return from Siberian exile. The journey back took about three years! Inspired by the hope of restoring the old faith, Avvakum preached passionately against Nikon’s innovations throughout his journey. In towns, villages, churches, and marketplaces, his fervent speeches resonated, profoundly influencing the people. “Avvakum always and everywhere preached about the destruction of Orthodoxy in Rus due to Nikon’s church reforms, urging all true believers to stand for their sacred traditions, to reject Nikon’s innovations under any circumstances, and to steadfastly hold to the old piety, even to suffer for it if necessary, as it alone could lead to salvation, while the new—Nikon’s way—led to inevitable eternal damnation. This preaching of the holy sufferer and martyr for true faith and piety was successful everywhere; Avvakum found numerous disciples and followers who spread word of the great sufferer and steadfast champion of true piety.”

In 1664, he finally reached the capital and was warmly received (“like an angel”) by the boyars opposed to Nikon. Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich also treated him kindly. “He ordered me to be lodged at a monastery residence in the Kremlin, and when passing my courtyard on campaigns, he often bowed low to me, saying, ‘Bless me and pray for me!’ Sometimes, while riding, he would drop his cap, a murmanka, taking it off his head! Or he would lean out of his carriage toward me. And all the boyars after him would bow and say, ‘Protopope, bless and pray for us!’ How could I not pity that tsar and those boyars?”

However, the paths of Avvakum and his patrons soon diverged sharply. While the boyars fought personally against Nikon, Avvakum opposed Nikon’s reforms, the true author of which was the tsar and his inner circle. The boyars urged the disgraced protopope to reconcile with the new faith, promising him high social standing and any position he desired, even that of the tsar’s confessor. But for Avvakum, compromise in matters of faith was impossible.

In this trying hour, Avvakum found support in his wife, Anastasia Markovna, who courageously shared all his hardships. “Wife, what shall I do?” he asked in doubt. “A heretical winter rages outside: should I speak or stay silent? You have bound me.” His faithful companion replied, “What are you saying, Petrovich? I, along with the children, bless you: dare to preach the word of God as before, and do not grieve for us. As long as God wills, we live together; and when we are parted, do not forget us in your prayers. Go, go to the church, Petrovich, and denounce the heresy.” Encouraged by his wife, he zealously continued to condemn the “heretical abomination.”

Before Avvakum’s return from Siberian exile, the leader of Moscow’s Old Believers was Father Ioann Neronov. However, Neronov was already advanced in age, and his strength was waning. A year after being exiled to the Spaso-Kamenny Monastery, he was sent even farther north to the Kandalaksha Monastery of the Nativity of the Virgin (now in Murmansk Oblast). In August 1655, he managed to escape to Moscow, seeking refuge with Stefan Vnifantyev. For a time, he lived secretly in Stefan’s cell and was later tonsured as a monk under the name Grigory. His subsequent fate was tragic. Sent under “strict supervision” to the Iosif Volokolamsk Monastery, he was forced at the 1666–1667 church council to repent and renounce the cause for which he had fought and suffered his entire life. Later, he was appointed archimandrite of the Danilov Monastery in Pereslavl-Zalessky, where he died in early 1670. Protopope Avvakum was deeply pained by Neronov’s weakness but did not dare condemn him: “My ears cannot bear to hear slander against him, not even from an angel.”

Avvakum’s time in Moscow can be considered the most fervent period of his preaching activity. Enjoying considerable freedom at this time, he acted through both spoken word and writings. Avvakum could not remain silent. He wrote sermons and epistles, denouncing the “abomination of Nikon’s corrections” and calling for steadfast adherence to ancient piety. He submitted a special petition to the tsar himself, expressing his views on the state of church affairs at the time. “This petition showed the tsar that Avvakum was a resolute, convinced supporter of Russian church traditions and that he sought the complete abolition of the church reforms and a full return to the old church order, where ‘Nikon’s schemes’ would have no place.” Tsar Alexei Mikhailovich’s attempt to reconcile Avvakum with even part of Nikon’s reforms failed.

The tsar and boyars were greatly troubled by Avvakum’s fiery zeal. “They didn’t like it,” he noted, “when I started speaking again. They liked it when I was silent, but that didn’t suit me.” The success of Avvakum’s preaching in Moscow society drove the church authorities into a genuine fury. They resolved to take action against him and requested the tsar to exile him, as he “had desolated the churches.” On August 29, 1664, Avvakum was sent into exile to distant Pustozersk, but thanks to the intercession of his Moscow friends, he never reached that fortress and lived with his family in Mezen for over a year.

In 1666, Avvakum was brought back to Moscow for a major church council trial and placed in the Pafnutyev Monastery in Borovsk. “They brought me to Moscow, interrogated and argued with me at the court of Metropolitan Pavel of Krutitsy, then took me to the Pafnutyev Monastery and put me in chains.” There, the long-suffering protopope spent nine and a half weeks. To persuade him to accept the new faith, a deacon from Yaroslavl named Kosma, along with a patriarchal clerk, was sent to Borovsk. However, instead of “correcting” Avvakum, Kosma supported and encouraged him, saying, “Do not abandon the old piety! You will be great in Christ’s eyes if you endure to the end!”

From Borovsk, Avvakum was returned to Moscow for the council trial. To give the council greater pomp, the Eastern “ecumenical patriarchs” Paisius of Alexandria and Macarius of Antioch were invited to participate. It later emerged that these were deposed adventurers who only subsequently assumed patriarchal thrones with the intervention of the Russian government and the help of Turkish authorities. At the council, Avvakum remained unyielding, addressing the Eastern “patriarchs” with the following words: “Ecumenical teachers, Rome fell long ago. The Poles perished with it. Your Orthodoxy has become mottled under the oppression of the Turkish Mehmet. In Rus, before Nikon, Orthodoxy was pure and undefiled, and the Church was without turmoil.”

On May 13, 1666, in the Kremlin’s Dormition Cathedral, Avvakum was defrocked and anathematized along with his ally, Deacon Feodor. The tongues of his friends, Priest Lazar and Monk Epiphany, were cut out. After the trial, Avvakum was taken to the Nikolsky Ugresha Monastery and placed in a “cold cell above the ice cellar” under the church. On the feast of the Ascension, during a midnight recitation of the morning Gospel from memory, he had a vision: the Virgin Mary and Christ appeared to him with “many hosts.” Christ strengthened the sufferer, saying, “Fear not, I am with you!”

On September 5, 1666, Avvakum was taken back to the Pafnutyev Monastery in Borovsk, and the following year he was sent to Pustozersk, near the Arctic Circle, where he was soon imprisoned in an “earthen prison”—a log structure buried in the ground. His wife and two sons were also confined in a pit in Mezen.

In the “earthen prison,” Avvakum endured fifteen years of cruel suffering. Yet, despite the harsh conditions of confinement in Pustozersk, “in a tundra and treeless place,” the fiery protopope continued to fight for the old faith. From this remote corner, his fervent preaching resounded: epistles, treatises, and entire books were sent to Mezen, Moscow, the Zavolzhye hermitages, and other parts of Russia. During his Pustozersk imprisonment, Avvakum wrote over 40 works, sometimes urging the authorities to return to the old faith, sometimes addressing his like-minded followers and spiritual children, encouraging them, stoking their zeal, urging them to suffer for the true faith, instructing them on how to organize their lives, and resolving their various doubts. He also sent an epistle to the new Tsar Feodor Alexeyevich, urging him to return to the traditions of native antiquity. However, the young tsar, married to a Polish woman and actively introducing Western customs to the state, was only irritated by Avvakum’s talk of “native antiquity.”

In 1681, during the Epiphany blessing of the waters, when hundreds of thousands gathered on the Kremlin hill and along the banks of the Moscow River, in the presence of Tsar Feodor Alexeyevich at the “Jordan,” an Old Believer from the bell tower of Ivan the Great threw scrolls with political caricatures and “slanderous inscriptions” defaming the tsar, secular authorities, and clergy. It was later discovered that the originals, written on birch bark, were made by Avvakum himself. The authorities could not forgive such public disgrace, and a decision was soon made to execute Avvakum and his allies.

On April 14, 1682, on Good Friday, formally for “great slanders against the royal house,” but in reality for his religious convictions, at the insistence of Patriarch Ioakim, Avvakum was burned in a log structure along with his like-minded companions—Priest Lazar, Deacon Feodor, and Monk Epiphany. In the flames, Avvakum raised his hand with the two-fingered sign of the cross and shouted to the people: “If you pray with this cross, you will never perish!” Before his death, Avvakum predicted the imminent death of Tsar Feodor Alexeyevich. This prophecy came true exactly: on April 27, 1682, the young tsar died unexpectedly. The people saw this as retribution for the execution of the Pustozersk martyrs.

Protopope Avvakum is deeply revered by all Old Believers. As early as the late 17th century, the first iconographic depictions of Avvakum standing before the Savior appeared (in the collection of the State Historical Museum in Moscow), and in the early 18th century, a service was composed for the holy confessors and new Russian martyrs—Protopope Avvakum, Bishop Pavel of Kolomna, and others.

In the 18th century, the Pustozersk fortress fell into ruin and gradually disappeared from the face of the earth. The last residents left in the 1960s. Today, the site of Pustozersk is bare sand, moss, and low shrubs. Only here and there can one find remnants of wooden eight-pointed crosses. In 1980, local historian M. Feshchuk and his companions personally made and installed a memorial marker in honor of the martyrs for ancient piety. In 1981, a group of Old Believers from the Riga Grebenshchikov community erected an eight-pointed cross in memory of the martyrs for faith. Recently, the Old Believers of Naryan-Mar proposed building a memorial chapel at the site of the Pustozersk martyrs’ execution. Even today, a steady stream of pilgrims from all corners of Russia visits this truly holy place.

K. Kozhurin (St. Petersburg) From the book: K. Kozhurin. Spiritual Teachers of Hidden Rus. St. Petersburg: Piter, 2007

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1. The practice of “night prayer” referred to here is not evening prayers, but the act of waking up in the middle of the night for the purpose of prayer. This ancient practice was “built-in” to the liturgical cycle in the “Midnight Office”, where the service begins by thanking God: “Having risen from sleep, I thank Thee, O God”. Ironically, this prayer, thanking God for helping to rise up for prayer in the middle of the night, has been widely misused as a morning prayer, said after skipping the night prayer!