The Holy Kremlin of Moscow has become a Bolshevik fortress. From the 9th to the 16th of November, 1917, for more than seven days under a hurricane of fire, the city was stormed and finally carried by the Bolsheviks in terrible fratricidal war. Since then the sacred citadel has been playing a new and ignominious role in the history of Russia.

St. Elizabeth Fyodorovna (1864–1918) occupies a special place in Russian history.

Initial reflection on the Great and Holy Council of the Orthodox Church that met last June in Crete has focused largely on its documents and very little on its procedural functioning. Local churches, however, raised numerous questions concerning the ordering of the council in order to justify their withdrawal or requests for postponement.

For the great majority of Orthodox Russians who found themselves in exile after the Bolshevik Revolution, but remained committed to the life of the church, the Moscow Council of 1917–18 appeared as a heavenly gift granted to the Church in Russia before a long time of tribulation. And so it surely was. But this council was not a gift only to the Church of Russia and those churches subject to it at the time: it was relevant for the whole Church, although it was, strictly speaking, a regional council.

As is known, the Orthodox Church defines itself as the church that preserves the fullness of faith and truth, deeming Christian catholicity and universality as its own characteristics. The Church’s tradition is presented by contemporary Orthodox theologians—such as Metropolitan John (Zizioulas) of Pergamon, Nikos Nisiotis, and Vladimir Lossky—as what is new, what is novel in history and comes from the depths of the age to come in order to restore everything “once with Christ, and afterward continually with the Holy Spirit through the Church.”

My work as a prison chaplain in a secular, pluralistic institution frequently throws social questions into sharper relief. For example, I have a mandate to maintain the institutional chapel not just as a “faith-neutral space” but as a sacred precinct that is hospitable to those of all faiths and of none. This understanding reflects a larger trend in at least some forms of secularism that views the public forum as an opportunity for all to have a “seat at the table” and to engage in discourse and dialogue on respectful terms.

The Christian world does not know Orthodoxy well. It knows only the external and, for the most part, negative features of the Orthodox Church, while her inner spiritual treasures remain unknown. For a long time Orthodoxy was locked inside itself; it did not have a spirit of evangelism and did not reveal itself to the world.