The intertwining of people’s lives in this world is truly remarkable, and the saints are no exception. On December 6, the Holy Church commemorates the memory of the Holy New Martyr Seraphim (Thievart). His martyrdom is closely linked to another saint—Professor Ivan Vasilyevich Popov of the Moscow Theological Academy, who is glorified as a martyr and whose memory is celebrated on February 8. To separate the life of the Holy New Martyr Seraphim from that of Martyr John makes it difficult to understand the meaning of Father Seraphim’s suffering, as well as the nature of his “crime” in the eyes of the God-opposing authorities.
Antony Maksimovich Thievart
At the time of his arrest in December 1924, investigators sought to extract information from Father Seraphim—then still Antony Maksimovich Thievart—about certain lists of bishops. These lists became the focal point: who compiled them, to whom they were given, and where they were sent. Ultimately, it was for these lists that he was imprisoned. His life account provides some context about these lists, but to an ordinary person, it still seems perplexing: a list of bishops of the canonical Church—what of it? It hardly seems like a grave or dangerous crime, merely writing down a list of Russian Orthodox Church bishops. Why imprison someone for that?
These questions are resolved when one examines the life of Martyr John, Professor Ivan Vasilyevich Popov. However, let’s not get ahead of ourselves—everything in due time, dear reader.
Antony (the future monk Seraphim) was born in Moscow on July 30, 1899, to Maksim and Natalia Thievart. Five years later, the family welcomed another son, but tragedy soon struck when Maksim Thievart passed away, leaving Natalia Dmitrievna to raise her two sons alone. It’s hard to imagine the effort it took to raise them, but this courageous woman succeeded. At eighteen, Antony graduated from a real school (a type of secondary education institution) and began working as a statistician at the Dedov Manufactory.
According to online sources, “The Dedov Manufactory, which produced its first goods on November 26, 1913, was one of the largest and most modern manufactories of its time. It consisted of a three-story spinning facility, a single-story weaving section with a glass roof, and two four-story barracks-style dormitories for workers and their families who came from all over Russia. The factory produced high-quality goods and was initially equipped with automatic weaving looms powered by electricity. The spinning equipment was imported from Great Britain, the weaving machines were made in Switzerland, and the power equipment was manufactured by renowned German firms AEG and ‘Fidner und Gamner’.”
Given its prestige, the factory attracted highly qualified workers from across the country, making it a competitive place to secure employment. Antony was not merely a laborer but a statistician, a role that required specialized education, indicating his exceptional abilities. He passed the rigorous selection process, demonstrating his extraordinary talent.
It’s worth noting that this was 1917—a time of great upheaval for Russia. Although chaos engulfed the nation, the Dedov Manufactory was still operational in 1917. It ceased operations later due to shortages of raw materials and fuel, reportedly around the start of the Civil War in 1918, but resumed activity by 1921.
Having lost his job for entirely objective reasons, Antony enrolled at Moscow State University—a challenging task in any era. He studied there for two years. What happened next is unclear; the account provides only dry facts: in 1919, Antony enrolled in courses for extracurricular political education, received military status, and was assigned as a librarian on the Southern Front, established on September 11, 1918, to combat the forces of Ataman P. N. Krasnov and General A. I. Denikin. It is possible that Antony, then 20, realized he could not avoid mobilization during the Civil War and found a bloodless way out of this challenging situation, as he could not envision himself taking up arms to end someone’s life.
The account does not clarify whether Antony actually reached the front lines. After mentioning his assignment, it states: “But he was subsequently retained in Moscow, serving as a librarian-instructor for the Political Directorate of the Revolutionary Military Council of the Republic.” Whether someone interceded for him or his intellectual and analytical abilities kept him in Moscow—or both—is unknown. Nevertheless, Antony remained in military status until 1922, yet he stayed in Moscow throughout this time.
You, my dear reader, might quite reasonably wonder: what does military duty have to do with a library? How can these two concepts even coexist? Let me explain.
In the 1920s, libraries were nothing less than hubs of party propaganda. In 1919, the Red Army introduced political officers (not to be confused with political commissars, who first appeared in 1942), responsible for the political and moral state of soldiers and commanders. To assist them, educated conscripts were assigned as… librarians.
So, does this mean that Antony was an ideologically driven revolutionary? No! But more on that later. Just as the Red Army conscripted members of the Imperial Russian Army’s elite who chose to remain neutral and refused to emigrate, the commissars (who were unquestionably ideological) and political officers were also assisted by simply well-educated individuals. The new regime lacked personnel and had to make do with what it could.
Whatever the case, it’s hard to say where Antony Thievart’s life path would have led if not for his pivotal meeting with Professor Ivan Vasilyevich Popov of the Moscow Theological Academy.
Martyr John Popov
They met in 1920. Where? The account remains silent. Either at the reading room of the Rumyantsev Museum or at Moscow State University—Antony himself pointed to these possibilities. He frequently attended various congresses for librarians, educators, and the like. Ivan Vasilyevich was also actively involved in educational activities, albeit within his own field. But Antony distinctly remembered: it was at a lecture. He attended a lecture by Professor Popov, and the renowned apologist deeply moved the young man. How a conscript librarian ended up at that lecture is a question you will get the answer to later, dear reader.
The lecture was on philosophy. It was at that moment that the paths of Antony Thievart and Ivan Vasilyevich Popov first crossed. From then on, the life paths of the great scholar and the young librarian essentially merged into one. Over time, Thievart became Popov’s right-hand man, assisting him in all his endeavors. The professor provided Antony with books on Church history and patristics, and this profound literature, like spiritual anointing oil, permeated the soul of the future Holy New Martyr.
The creation of the infamous list of bishops was blessed by none other than Patriarch Tikhon himself. Why was this list so important? What kind of list was it?
I have often written about the so-called “Living Church.” To reiterate: this pseudo-religious organization, created with the direct support and funding of the God-opposing authorities, aimed to completely destroy the Russian Orthodox Church (ROC). One of the tools used for this destruction was the recruitment of clergy from the ROC at all levels, including bishops, into their ranks.
In preparation for the Pan-Orthodox Council of Eastern Churches scheduled for 1925, it was crucial for Patriarch Tikhon to discern who was loyal and who was not. The Church urgently needed a comprehensive list of bishops who had remained faithful to the canonical Church and those who had defected to the schism. This was not only vital for convening the Council but also for making appointments to diocesan sees. Having this list was indispensable.
This was painstaking work. It required identifying, through testimonies, actions, statements, appeals, and other subtle indicators, those who had aligned themselves with the Living Church movement. The ROC had no registry of bishops and clergy who had defected to the schism. Such information was not made public or printed in newspapers. The enemy was cunning. Living Church adherents often deliberately concealed who had joined their dark ranks. A bishop turned traitor might be appointed to a diocese (or a priest to a parish), initiating a destructive process of spiritual decay among the flock.
The purpose of compiling this list of faithful bishops and those who had fallen into schism was to protect the Church from annihilation. It was also vital to avoid accusing innocent and loyal children of the Orthodox Church. This was a highly responsible task.
Patriarch Tikhon entrusted this labor to Ivan Vasilyevich Popov for good reason. Popov was the embodiment of the Church’s conscience, the purity of its faith, and the asceticism of its traditions. A pioneer in patristics, he aligned every aspect of his life—indeed, his entire life—with the teachings of the Church Fathers, championing the purity of Orthodox faith. The Patriarch made a wise decision in entrusting such a meticulous and philosophically nuanced task to Professor Popov.
K. Miroshnik, N. Kurguzova-Miroshnik. “Patriarch Tikhon”
The existence of such a list exposed the members of the “Living Church,” tearing off their masks and revealing their cunning, criminal schemes. This is why the list was so detested by the authorities. It undermined all the efforts of the God-opposing forces to deceive the Patriarch and appoint their agents to key positions in the dioceses.
Moreover, over the previous 6–7 years, the authorities had been draining the Church of its strength—executing clergy and bishops or condemning them to die in labor camps. Every faithful bishop and priest became invaluable.
Antony Thievart assisted Ivan Vasilyevich Popov in compiling this critical list. Initially, Professor Popov sought to acquire records maintained by faithful Orthodox Christians. Thievart was the one who delivered such records to Ivan Vasilyevich. Antony personally copied them all by hand. When Popov presented these lists to Patriarch Tikhon, they turned out to be incomplete and needed further refinement. Acting on his own initiative, Popov included the names of bishops in exile (since they could not be appointed to dioceses, which had to be taken into account).
Another issue concerned the exiled archpastors: a bishop would formally retain his position but, in reality, be in captivity, leaving the diocese without leadership. Accurate and up-to-date information was vital for the Patriarch to make timely new appointments.
There was yet another layer: some bishops had fallen into schism but later repented and were accepted back into the fold of the Mother Church. All these nuances needed to be recorded.
Finally, a complete list was compiled: bishops who remained loyal to the Orthodox Church, those who had joined the schism (with names, places of service, etc.), those who returned from the schism, and those in captivity.
Ivan Vasilyevich also assisted, on Patriarch Tikhon’s behalf, in sending the Patriarch’s directive abroad appointing Metropolitan Platon (Rozhdestvensky) as head of the North American Diocese.
This was, without exaggeration, high treason in the eyes of the authorities. On December 10, 1924, Ivan Vasilyevich Popov and Antony Maksimovich Thievart were arrested and imprisoned in the OGPU prison on Lubyanka. Professor Popov was personally interrogated by Tuchkov, the head of the 6th Division of the Secret Department of the OGPU.
The most infuriating thing for the authorities was that they never got their hands on the actual list. The God-opposing forces had no way of knowing which of their agents had been exposed and which had not. Both steadfast sufferers were interrogated to extract the names of the bishops listed, but neither revealed a single name.
The investigators tried another approach: they pressured Popov and Thievart to disclose who else had access to the list so those individuals could be arrested and interrogated for the coveted names. This, too, failed.
Do you understand, dear reader? These two holy martyrs saved the Russian Orthodox Church at that time—literally, not figuratively. The authorities were left in the dark about what Patriarch Tikhon knew concerning those who had joined the schism, the number of schismatics, or their specific names. This was the victory of our New Martyrs.
Antony Thievart was interrogated on December 19, 1924. Here are excerpts from the interrogation protocol:
—Did Popov assign you any tasks?
—Popov assigned me tasks related to the history of the Church in ancient and medieval times. Regarding recent events in Church life, I do not recall Popov giving me any assignments.
—List the circle of your acquaintances—who visits you, and whom do you visit?
—I do not visit anyone at private residences… I have almost no acquaintances. I do not visit anyone, and no one visits me.
—Apart from Popov, who else gave you instructions regarding work on Church history?
—No one else gave me any instructions, as I am not acquainted with anyone else.
—Did Popov task you with compiling lists of bishops in schism, canonical bishops, or those arrested or exiled by Soviet authorities?
—No, he did not assign me this task. I am incapable of compiling such a list.
—Did Popov ask you to copy such lists?
—I cannot say for certain—I do not remember.
—What task did Ivan Vasilyevich Popov assign you concerning the Ecumenical Council scheduled for the spring of 1925?
—He did not assign me anything.
I. Vladimirov. “Interrogation at the Committee of the Poor”
The interrogation protocol does not break off here, dear reader—I am the one interrupting it. Up to this point, Antony Thievart consistently denies any involvement in compiling or copying the lists. What the God-opposing interrogators did to him afterward remains hidden in his life account. We can only imagine the brutal methods used to extract testimony in those grim times.
Here is the next question recorded in the protocol, along with Antony’s response:
—When, where, and from whom did you receive the lists of canonical bishops?
—In August 1924—approximately; I don’t remember which church—I received handwritten lists of canonical bishops. I do not remember from whom I received these lists. I copied them by hand. Shortly thereafter, about a month later, I gave the copied list to Ivan Vasilyevich Popov at his request. I received the lists from an unfamiliar girl with whom I struck up a conversation in the church about ordination. I copied the list because it was torn and dirty. I destroyed the original list. Ivan Vasilyevich Popov asked me for the list after I already had it in my possession.
Antony suddenly admits to the existence of the list, Popov’s request regarding it, and confirms that he copied it in his own handwriting. Yet he remains firm in claiming ignorance of further details: he does not remember the church or the person who gave it to him; in the next sentence, he recalls receiving it from a girl, but cannot identify her. This interrogation likely lasted far longer than 15 minutes, and it seems Antony was “actively assisted” in refreshing his memory…
The protocol continues:
—What conversation did you have with Ivan Vasilyevich Popov regarding the Ecumenical Council?
—Regarding the Ecumenical Council, I had the following conversation with Ivan Vasilyevich Popov: we discussed the possibility of the Council being convened, the topics that might be addressed there, including clerical marriages, autocephaly, and the schism in the Church. Ivan Vasilyevich Popov assigned me work concerning the Imiaslavtsy (Name-worshipers). It is possible that this work was also connected with the upcoming Ecumenical Council. I heard from Ivan Vasilyevich Popov that the lists of bishops, in the compilation of which I participated, were intended for Patriarch Tikhon. Whether the compilation of these lists was connected to the Ecumenical Council, I do not know.
Local Council of 1917–1918
The work on the Imiaslavtsy (the Athonite movement associated with veneration of the Name of God) was indeed a central focus for Thievart. This task was assigned to him by Ivan Vasilyevich Popov, as Popov himself had been part of the subcommittee at the Local Council of 1917–1918 that addressed this issue. At that time, the matter had not been fully resolved and required further detailed study.
The investigators then shifted their questions to the appointment of Metropolitan Platon (Rozhdestvensky) to the North American diocese:
—What conversation did you have with Ivan Vasilyevich Popov about his trip abroad?
—I had no such conversation with Popov.
—What conversation did you have regarding sending the lists of bishops you compiled with Popov abroad?
—I don’t know; there was no conversation.
Antony Thievart held on as best he could. It’s hard to comprehend how he managed to endure all of it… Only with God’s help—it couldn’t have been otherwise. Torture, torment, mockery… Yet he did not reveal a single name. Ivan Vasilyevich had been arrested along with him, so Thievart pointing to Popov during interrogation could not worsen the professor’s situation—Popov was already imprisoned and being interrogated.
Antony did not disclose a single name from the list or the identities of anyone connected to it. And yet he had personally copied the list by hand. He must have known who was on it.
The investigation lasted nearly four months. Then the case was reviewed in court for over a month.
On May 19, 1925, Antony Maksimovich Thievart was sentenced to three years of exile. He was found guilty of “communication with representatives of foreign states with the intent to provoke intervention against the Soviet government, for which purpose Thievart provided these representatives with deliberately false and inaccurate information about persecution by the Soviet authorities of the Church and the episcopate.”
The exact same charges were brought against Ivan Vasilyevich Popov.
Thievart was sent to SLON—the Solovetsky Special Purpose Camp. He arrived there with Professor Popov, who had received the same sentence. They were even placed in the same barrack. At Solovki, they were met by a host of bishops and priests—the spiritual elite of the Russian Orthodox Church—who had been sentenced by the God-opposing authorities to various terms and sent to SLON.
There is a testimony from this period that characterizes Antony, written while he was still in captivity at Solovki by Protopriest Michael Polsky. While writing about Professor Popov, he could not help but mention Thievart:
“Speaking of Ivan Vasilyevich, one cannot forget his ‘executor of the will,’ the remarkable young man Antony Thievart, who arrived at Solovki with him. In a playful manner, this term was sometimes used for young candidates for professorships whom the older professors were preparing to inherit their chairs, passing on all their academic knowledge and expertise. Antony Thievart (of French descent) was both a student and a friend of the professor. They lived together, had beds side by side, ate and walked together. The student worked on the doctrine of Christ according to Saint Athanasius the Great, writing and studying during moments free from labor.”
Father Michael portrays Antony as a passionate and promising young scholar. But consider, dear reader, where these observations were made and where all this took place—in a concentration camp! Moreover, Thievart cared for Ivan Vasilyevich in everyday matters—they lived, ate, and slept side by side. The energetic young student was a support to his teacher even in these conditions.
At Solovki, Professor Popov received an additional three-year sentence. Antony, however, was released in 1928 and returned to Moscow to his mother. This was in January. During Lent, which began on February 27 in 1928, Antony and his mother traveled to Diveyevo. They spent Holy Week in Arzamas. There, Bishop Arsenius of Serpukhov (Zhadanovsky) tonsured Antony into monasticism, giving him the name Seraphim, after Saint Seraphim of Sarov. Antony was subsequently ordained a hieromonk. His mother, Natalia Dmitrievna, also took monastic vows under the name Panteleimon.
Bishop Arsenius (Zhadanovsky) As I read these lines of the life account, tears well up in my eyes: how remarkable that this woman could raise her son so well and stand so firm in her faith! He returned to her after his exile, embraced her, and heart spoke to heart: “Let us take monastic vows, Mother!” And she, knowing full well the tortures he had endured—how he was mocked during interrogations, chased by dogs, beaten with rifle butts during transfers, starved, and frozen for three years in Solovki—embraced him in return. Heart answered heart: “Let us do it!”
“Mother, walk with me to Golgotha.”
“I will, my son.”
This is yet another act of heroism revealed in this life account, dear reader.
Their Moscow apartment became a monastic cell: Father Seraphim served, and Mother Panteleimon assisted him.
He was arrested in the night from April 14 to 15, 1931. By this time, no methods employed during interrogations could force Father Seraphim to “remember” anything or provide the testimony so desperately sought by the investigators. Father Seraphim embodied courage and steadfastness.
From this interrogation, we learn something more: in 1920, he was admitted to the Moscow Theological Academy, a fact he had carefully concealed until that moment:
“I, Antony Maksimovich Thievart, confess to the OGPU authorities that I indeed took secret monastic vows. I was tonsured by Bishop Arsenius (Zhadanovsky) in the city of Arzamas. My monastic name is Seraphim. Due to my religious convictions, I entered the Theological Academy in 1920, but did not graduate due to its closure. I attended the academy while simultaneously serving in the Political Directorate of the Revolutionary Military Council. Naturally, my service was unaware of my attendance at the academy. I know no one among the clergy. I systematically visit only the Church of the Ascension on Herzen Street. My attitude toward the Soviet authorities is negative in certain matters, specifically: the exile of clergy, the closure and destruction of churches, and so on. I am a pacifist and, in the event of an attack on the Soviet Union by enemies, I would not defend it with weapons in hand, but I am willing to serve in medical units.”
In these words lies the strength of spirit, a confession of faith even unto blood, a love for God even unto death: “Whoever acknowledges Me before others, I will also acknowledge before My Father in heaven” (Matthew 10:32).
Do you remember, dear reader, the philosophy lectures of Professor Popov that Antony Thievart attended in 1920? They met in 1920 but became close later. This means one thing: Antony’s enrollment in the Moscow Theological Academy led him to Popov’s lectures, not the other way around. His admission to the academy was an independent, deliberate decision made “due to his religious convictions.” Let me remind you, dear reader, that in 1920, Antony Thievart was only 21 years old.
The criminal case was a group trial involving thirty-nine people. Among those charged were Archimandrite Gabriel (Igoshkin; confessor, memorial day October 18), Priest Theodore Alekseinsky (holy martyr, memorial day December 15), and Tatiana Grimblit, a benefactor of exiled clergy and imprisoned laypeople (martyr, memorial day September 23).
The investigation did not take long. On April 30, 1931, the Special Council of the OGPU sentenced Hieromonk Seraphim to three years in a concentration camp. The destination: Vishersky Camps in the Perm region.
The Vishlag Labor Camp System
The Vishlag system of camps was separated from SLON (the Solovetsky Special Purpose Camp) just two years prior, becoming an independent labor camp system. Do not let the geography confuse you, dear reader (the distance between Solovki and the Perm region); initially, it was the Vishersky branch of the Solovetsky ITL (Correctional Labor Camp) under the OGPU, located in the Perm region. For administrative convenience, the Vishersky camps were later designated as a distinct entity.
In 1931, Vishlag housed 39,000 prisoners. They were engaged in constructing the Vishersky Pulp and Paper Plant. In addition to this facility, prisoners were also tasked with building other major industrial projects, including the Vishersky chemical plants, encompassing large-scale constructions along the Vishera and Kama rivers. The construction of these enterprises required extensive infrastructure development.
Memoirs of Georgy Vins, whose father, Baptist missionary Peter Vins, served his sentence near Usolye, describe these camps:
“North of Solikamsk, there were no railroads, and the entire group was marched on foot another 300 kilometers along taiga roads. Among the prisoners were the sick, who were helped by stronger comrades. Many couldn’t endure the arduous journey and died along the way. After his release, my father recounted that during his time in the Urals, he spent the entire winter on grueling earthworks for railroad construction. Prisoners manually used crowbars and shovels to break through frozen, rock-hard ground and hauled it away in wheelbarrows. The daily quota was enormous—6 to 8 cubic meters of earth per person per shift—and to meet it, prisoners worked from early morning until late at night. After work, they were forced to march several kilometers back to the camp. Their feet were always wet. Often, just as the prisoners managed to warm up and fall asleep, they were awakened in the middle of the night to clear snow from the camp area. The Urals see heavy snowfalls in winter: from October to May, it snows almost daily, with drifts reaching three to four meters. At night, prisoners would spend hours shoveling snow, only to be woken at 6 a.m. for another day of work in the forest. After such sleepless nights, they were physically unable to meet their quotas, which resulted in reduced rations—less bread, less porridge, and thinner soup. Many died of hunger, exhaustion, and chronic sleep deprivation. My father survived his sentence in the Urals only by God’s mercy.”
The Vishersky Pulp and Paper Plant was completed ahead of schedule. One can only imagine the cost. I’ll say this: by the end of 1932, the prisoner count had dropped from 39,000 to 8,900.
Father Seraphim managed to survive there for seven months. He died on December 6, 1931, in the first division of the Vishersky ITL. A cross was erected over his grave. Hieromonk Seraphim was 32 years old.
The account of his life does not mention the death of his mother during this period. It is possible that she outlived her son. We do not know if Nun Panteleimon was able in this life to visit her son’s Golgotha, kneel at his cross, and whisper, “I am here, my son.” But I believe that in eternity, they are together.
