Do we have to go to the people? What is the mission?

Question: Protestants come to us and gather 20 thousand people. Should we also go to the people? What should the mission be expressed in? You once preached about this and said wonderful things. You certainly have a special gift. I saw a little girl at a bus stop preaching, and everyone avoided her like she was crazy. Then I asked myself: should we go to the people? What does the mission consist of? Visits to schools, high schools... You can talk for two hours without saying the word "God" once. Is it necessary to go to the stadium? It seems that this is not customary in our country, but Protestants do it. Answer: I am not convinced that in order to preach Christ, we must, like Protestants, go to stadiums. But we must never be ashamed of our faith. Wherever we are, in any circumstances, we must be ready to be recognized as believers, even if this causes laughter or disgust from others.

But, on the other hand, I believe (and I once wrote about this to Patriarch Pimen and others) that waiting for people to come to Church on their own is not enough. We are not spiders sitting in a web and waiting for a fly to catch. There are people who, because of prejudices or painful experiences related to the Church, will never enter a church, but who need God. And that is why I believe that we must look for people where they are.

I do not know what opportunities there are now in Russia in this regard, but if not simple self-proclaimed parishioners, but experienced, wise priests, were to go out preaching on the streets, perhaps their word would ignite someone’s heart. First of all, it would show that they are not ashamed, that they are not afraid of mockery — and we must be prepared not only for mockery, but also for blows. But we must be ready to say: “I have brought you Christ.”

And it is not necessary to begin by preaching Christ, but to begin with the man in front of us. What is in your soul? As I recently recalled, that officer who asked me what I have in common with God: love and faith in man. And from here let us begin: “Do you believe in something?” – “Yes.” – “In what?” And I would like to add something.

A story from the life of the abbot Silouan comes to mind. I do not remember whether it was in the book of Father Sophrony or in a letter sent once to France. A Russian missionary from China visited him and told him that it was impossible to convert the Chinese: they are completely closed and hopeless. Silouan asked him: “But what are you doing to convert them?” The missionary replied: “I go to their temple, wait for a moment of silence and start shouting: why do you pray to these idols? Can’t you see that they are only wood and stone? Break them and return to the true God.” – “And what comes next?” asks Silouan. “I kick myself out.” Silouan said to him: “You know what? Enter the temple once, stand there and see with what faith and trust they pray. And when this moves your heart, ask one of their priests to come out with you, stand on the steps and tell you about their faith. And when he says something beautiful, add: ‘Ah, how beautiful is what you are saying, and how complete it would be if this were added too...’” And I think this is an important path.

In the 1920s, in Russia, a certain Vladimir Filimonovich Martsinkovsky preached on the streets and in meetings. He was once a subdeacon of Patriarch Tikhon, who blessed him for preaching during the revolution. He left a book of memoirs in which he says: “When you disagree with someone or a group, do not speak against them, because they will begin to defend themselves with all their might. Speak above them, so that they will want to rise to that height.”

We can do this if we go out into the streets, into the squares, into meetings that are not necessarily religious. We do not necessarily have to preach religion formally or speak directly about Christ, but about the content of the Gospel, about the fullness that Christ brings and our faith — but not a formal faith, not just a creed, but the essence of our connection with God. I think that is possible.

I happened to preach here in Oxford on the steps of the central library. I had been invited and I was waiting that morning hoping that they would forget me, because I was afraid. But they came, they took me up the steps, they put up a big poster, and there I was. Two or three invited students sat down in front of me, and I started talking to them. People came up to me: “What does it say there?” And a crowd of 30, 40, 50 people gathered. I started talking about my faith, and people listened, maybe because I spoke English with such a foreign accent that I seemed like a curiosity, but maybe because I was saying things different from what they heard in their churches. It was the end of January, and it was bitterly cold. I could see that those in front were holding out, but those in the back were freezing. I stopped and said, “If you want to become believers, start with the practical things: those in front are warm, those in the back are shivering. Do the exchange: go from front to back and blow on the backs of those who are cold.” I preached for two hours, and that’s what they did. Then they said to me, “You taught us to look at each other, not just listen to one speaker, thinking we don’t care about the one next to us.”

They left, talking among themselves, continuing the discussion. After that, we had a meeting in a church, and the sign said, “No Believers Allowed.” And some of those unbelievers came, because they had felt something: that faith does not consist only in theology, in saying great things about great things, but in blowing warmth on a man's back or perhaps in giving him a piece of bread, inviting him for a coffee, because you see that he is frozen and, as they say, has "a cockroach caught in a snare" in his pocket.

Metropolitan Antonie of Suroj