This is Part 2 of the interview True Stories from Priest Alexander Torik by an Orthodox journalist and essayist Andrey Sigutin, originally published in Russian here.
In this second part of our interview, Father Alexander Torik shares his reflections on the unique spiritual atmosphere of Mount Athos, the challenges of preserving its ancient traditions in the modern world, and the role of missionary work in the life of the Church. You can read Part 1 here.
Lessons from Athos
Andrey Sigutin (AS): You’ve been to Mount Athos many times. What impressed you the most?
Alexander Torik (AT): The first time I planned to go to Athos, I was supposed to go with a priest I knew, but for various reasons, he had to go alone. When he returned, I asked him, ‘What was your most powerful impression of Athos?’ He replied, ‘You know, here in Russia, to feel a response to prayer or to sense the grace that comes during prayer, you have to put in a lot of effort. It’s like digging for it, like trying to pull it up from the depths of the earth. But on Athos, grace is just in the air. You breathe it in. Open your heart, pray, and you’ll feel it everywhere.’
That made a deep impression on me. When I finally got to Athos myself, I wanted to see if it was true. Here, you can pray and pray and still feel like a piece of wood—completely insensitive. That’s because our hearts are covered in a thick layer of passions, numbing our spiritual senses. But every Christian longs to feel, even just a little, the touch of divine grace.
And when I did finally get to Athos and began praying in different monasteries and holy places, the Lord, in His mercy, allowed me to experience this. He grants this to anyone who comes to Athos not just to sightsee, take photos, or go shopping, but to genuinely seek Him with a sincere heart, asking, ‘Lord, where are You?’ And the answer comes, ‘Here, right beside you.’
AS: Some of the encounters on Athos described in your books are quite striking. Are these based on real events?
AT: Yes, many of them are. For example, just before one of my trips to Athos, I was on the island of Crete and ran into a bit of a problem that needed to be resolved quickly. I had to call a monk I knew at St. Panteleimon’s Monastery on Athos. I called him and said, ‘Father, I have a bit of a problem…’ And he replied, ‘We’ve read your third Flavian book, so come, and we’ll sort it out.’
I laughed and asked, ‘Are you going to stone me?’ He said, ‘No, no, we won’t use stones. Maybe just some empty octopus cans—you know, your favorite!’ At the time, the third Flavian book was still in the final stages of editing, but I had sent the electronic version to a few people, including the monks at St. Panteleimon’s, so they had already read it.
When I arrived, I said, ‘Alright, I’m here, head bowed. What did I write that was so wrong? Were there too many miracles?’
‘No,’ they said. ‘Miracles are just our daily life here. The Mother of God often appears—She walks among us. That’s why She’s called the Abbess of Mount Athos. It’s not uncommon to round a corner or head back to your cell and come face to face with the Mother of God. Or the Lord Himself might appear in the form of a monk—read the lives of the saints, you’ll find countless examples. This is normal. You wrote the truth.’
I thought, ‘Thank God, I didn’t overdo it with the miracles.’ So I asked, ‘Then what’s the problem?’
‘We were all shaken by your description of what Athos might be like in the end times, when women are finally allowed here and all hell breaks loose. We read that part and got together to discuss it. We were worried.’
I replied, ‘Well, that was the point. I wrote it to shake you up a bit, to get you thinking and talking. I come here as a guest, as an outsider, but even I can see certain dangers. And I wanted to warn you: if the process of secularization on Athos isn’t stopped, it could end badly. This isn’t just a warning for Russian monks, but for the Greeks, Bulgarians, Romanians, and others as well.’
The Athonite fathers told me, ‘Well, we talked it over and decided that this probably won’t happen.’
I replied, ‘If you pray a bit more intensely, spend a bit less time with laptops, video players, and phones with games, and focus more on the inner life of prayer, then perhaps it won’t.’
I said this not because I think I have the right to teach Athonite monks how to save their souls—after all, who am I to instruct the monks of the Holy Mountain? Just a humble priest from the Moscow suburbs. But sometimes, those on the outside can see certain things more clearly.
The events I described in the third Flavian book, which so alarmed the Athonite fathers, were a cry of pain from my heart. I love Athos deeply—I just returned from my tenth trip there—and I feel the holiness of this place very keenly. It is a unique spiritual realm, like a bridge between our earthly world and the world of eternity. If you come there with an open heart, genuinely desiring to touch the Athonite spirit of prayer, you will inevitably feel the grace of this place, sanctified by generations of holy ascetics.
AS: In general, no one is entirely immune to secularization…
AT: On my way back from Athos once, I was on a ferry with a monk, and I said to him, ‘Maybe I went a bit overboard with the “horror” scenes in the third Flavian. I bet the fathers went gray reading it…’ He replied, ‘A friend of mine, also a monk, is working on his dissertation in Milan. For a while, he lived with a German scholar. They both spoke poor English and no Italian at all, so they mostly communicated with gestures and a few dozen English words. But when they walked around the city, there was no idle chatter—each one prayed silently.
One day, the German took him to an old Catholic church. He pointed at it and said, “Theater.” My friend was confused. “What theater? It’s a church.” But the German insisted, “Theater.” They opened the door, and sure enough, it was a theater now, complete with rows of seats, a stage, and decorations.
They kept walking. Another church. The German pointed and said, “Bar.” They opened the door—bar counter, rows of bottles—a full bar.
They walked a bit further and came to another former church. “Disco,” the German said. They looked inside, and it was, indeed, a disco.
So you see, Father Alexander, you didn’t really overdo it in your book. This kind of thing already exists—just not on Athos. Yet.’
So it turns out, I didn’t make anything up. It’s already happening. Maybe it’s only in Milan and other parts of Europe for now, but it could come anywhere—to Athos, to Russia. After all, it wasn’t so long ago that the Bolsheviks were building toilets in church sanctuaries. If we live, not just without spiritual awareness, but without even basic moral decency, this same disaster will find its way to us as well.
Mission Possible?
AS: Father Tigran Khachatryan, a missionary priest, once said, ‘I discovered the irresistible power of Father Alexander Torik’s books. People from different social backgrounds suddenly found themselves plunged into the world of Orthodox spirituality through the medium of good, quality literature. They sympathized with the characters, shared the author’s worldview, and received their first taste of faith.’ Do you consider yourself a missionary?
AT: Every Christian has an apostolic mission to preach the Gospel commandment of love. From the Gospels, we know that 2,000 years ago, the Jewish people split into two groups: those who followed Christ and became His disciples, and those who rejected Him and crucified Him.
That freedom to choose—for or against Christ—has not been taken away from anyone to this day, including those to whom the Church reaches out through every possible means: radio, television, newspapers, magazines, and the sermons of priests.
Many priests today engage in missionary work in different ways, depending on their talents and opportunities. Some preach on television, others speak in clubs, lecture halls, or factories. Some write books, make films, or produce TV programs. Everyone does what they can, based on their abilities, talents, and the support they receive.
But since the time of St. Vladimir the Equal-to-the-Apostles, the Russian Orthodox Church has not had a well-organized, systematic approach to missionary work. Back then, the whole of Rus’ was enlightened and baptized. Once the entire country became Orthodox, the need for organized missionary work largely disappeared, except in the far reaches of the Russian Empire.
There were some individual missionaries who traveled to other countries—China, Korea, Japan. St. Nicholas of Japan, for example, essentially created the Japanese Orthodox Church from scratch. But these were isolated cases. Within the Russian Empire itself, there was simply no need for missionaries.
AS: But what about St. Stephen of Perm?
AT: He carried out his missionary work at a time when many non-Russian peoples within the Russian Empire were being enlightened and baptized by remarkable figures like St. Stephen. After that, a kind of balance was established: some peoples became Orthodox, while others chose Islam, Buddhism, or paganism.
However, St. Stephen did not leave behind a structured missionary training system like the one you find among Protestant denominations, with their systematic religious education focused on preaching and mission work.
In fact, we didn’t even have such a system before the Revolution. And after the Revolution, mission work became impossible. If a priest merely stood at the altar and prayed, they would shoot him in the head to stop him from doing even that. Try preaching under those conditions.
Even the late Archpriest Vasily Vladyshesky, who inspired the character of Father Flavian, experienced this firsthand. As I mentioned earlier, the parish where I first served under him was in the village of Alekshino. If I’m not mistaken, it was the 15th parish of his ministry. He was constantly being transferred from place to place. And who was moving him around? Not the diocesan authorities, but the state officials responsible for religious affairs, the KGB. Why? Because he served the Church sincerely, from the heart.
They would send him to a new parish, and within a year, a vibrant community would form around him. Young people would stand in church, listen to his sermons, pray, confess, and seek his counsel. Then they would transfer him to the other side of the Moscow region, and the same thing would happen there, with people from his former parishes still coming to see him.
Today, the authorities don’t persecute priests for this. Sadly, many of today’s priests put more effort into building and decorating church buildings than into caring for the souls of their parishioners. Buildings are visible to everyone—souls are known only to God. It’s a sad situation.
But now that the ruins have mostly been cleared away, His Holiness Patriarch Kirill is saying, ‘Alright, fathers and brothers, it’s time to start engaging in missionary work. Learn how to do this!’ But how? The Church is now searching for methods, trying to find ways to reach people. And we, the parish priests, are doing what we can. In my case, I write books.
Stay tuned for the final Part 3, where Fr. Alexander Torik shares some curious insights on his book Dimon and the concept of ‘toll houses’, and reflects on the role of spiritual mentorship in the life of a Christian.