New Hieromartyr Hilarion (Troitsky), archbishop of Verey (1929). Hieromartyr Eleutherius, bishop of Illyria, and Martyrs Anthia (his mother), Coremonus the eparch, and two executioners who suffered with them (117-138). St. Paul of Mt. Latros (956). St. Stephen the Confessor, archbishop of Surozh in the Crimea (ca. 790). Synaxis of the Saints of the Crimea.
Martyr Eleutherius of Byzantium (beg. of 4th c.). St. Pardus, hermit, of Palestine (6th c.). St. Tryphon of Pechenga, or Kola (1583), and his martyred disciple Jonah (16th c.). Synaxis of the Saints of Kola.
Martyr Susanna the Deaconess, of Palestine (4th c.). Monk-martyr Bacchus of St. Sabbas Monastery, at Misr al-Fustat (Egypt) (787).
Thursday. [Heb. 10:35-11:7; Mark 9:10-16]
History flows on and, it seems,
inexorably determines individual events. How many
preparations there were to receive the Saviour!… At
last His closest indicator came, John, but what came of
it? With John, They have done…whatsoever they
listed, and the Son of Man suffered and was
humiliated. The flow of events could not be broken; it
took its own. So the flow of history always draws
everything after it. People ask, “Where is freedom?
What is it, given such an order of events? No more than a
phantom.” Thus fatalists usually reason. But this
all-determining necessity for the flow of events is only
an appearance; in reality all human events, both common
and individual, are the fruit of man’s free
undertakings. The common [history] flows exactly the way
it does because everyone, or a majority of people, want
this; and the individual enters into agreement with the
common [majority] because one or another in particular
wants it. The proof of this is obvious: in the midst of
general good there occur bad particulars; and in the midst
of general bad there occur good particulars. Also, in the
midst of a firmly established commonality are born
particulars which, spreading and becoming stronger and
stronger, overpower the former commonality and take its
place. But these particulars are always a matter of
freedom. What in di Christianity have in common with the
character of time in which it was conceived? It was sown
by several individuals who were not a result of the
necessary flow of history; it attracted those who desired
it; it spread vigorously and became the general affair of
mankind of the time, and yet it was a matter of freedom.
Similarly, only in a bad direction—how did the West
become corrupted? It corrupted itself: instead of learning
from the Gospels they began to learn from pagans and adopt
their customs—and they became corrupted. The same
will happen with us: we have started to learn from the
West which has fallen from Christ the Lord, and have
transferred its spirit to ourselves. Finally, like the
West, we will renounce true Christianity. But in all of
this there is nothing necessarily determining the matter
of freedom: if we want to, we will drive away the Western
darkness. If we don’t want to, of course, we will
submerge ourselves in it.