From Parish Priest to Writer

Andrey Sigutin (AS): Father Alexander, how did you become a writer?

Alexander Torik (AT): In 1996, when I was the rector of two parishes, many people started coming to the Church. Most of them knew almost nothing about Orthodoxy. I often found myself answering the same basic questions over and over: What does it mean to be a Christian? What is ‘salvation’ and what do we need to be saved from? What can I gain from this Church you speak of?

Every time, I would spend a long time explaining who the Christian God is, what sin is, and why a life in the Church is necessary. I even timed it once: to give a religiously uneducated newcomer a basic understanding of God, the Church, and the foundations of spiritual life takes about three and a half hours of one-on-one conversation. Maybe some priests can do it faster, but that’s how long it took me.

But a priest simply cannot find three and a half hours for every new person who walks into the Church, so I had the idea to write a small booklet covering the basics of Orthodox teaching and church life. This way, I could hand it to people who wanted to have a deeper conversation about the faith, saying, ‘Read this, and then come back, and we’ll continue the conversation on a higher level.’

That’s how my first booklet, Churching, came to be. I published it at my own expense and started handing it out. Over time, it became popular, and now it has even been translated into several languages, including English and Chinese.

Real-Life Inspirations Behind the Flavian Series

AS: So that’s how you started your literary journey…

AT: In the 2000s, I had to step back from regular parish ministry due to health issues. That’s when I had the idea of writing down some of the most interesting stories from my 20 years of pastoral experience. Over those two decades, I had heard many spiritually beneficial, real-life stories of divine help and grace. I felt these stories were worth sharing with a wider audience.

I didn’t want to write a simple collection of short stories like Orthodox Miracles of the 20th Century or similar books that were already quite common. Instead, I wanted to create a full-fledged work of fiction—something that would be both spiritually enriching and genuinely interesting to read. After all, if a book is spiritually valuable but dull, who will actually read it?

That’s how the main characters of Flavian were born. Their story became the central thread, like the core stick of a child’s stacking toy, with smaller, real-life stories slipped on like colorful rings. The main plot was fictional, but almost all of the smaller episodes in the book were based on real-life events, even the one about the dead man who came from the morgue to confess.

Fiction or Reality?

AS: Is that really not just a fictional episode?

AT: It’s an absolutely real story. In fact, when the first edition of Flavian was being prepared for publication at the Lepta Publishing House, a reviewer from the Moscow Patriarchate’s Publishing Council wrote that the book was generally good, but that the scene where a dead man comes to confess is far too fantastical—perhaps it should be left out entirely?

But that episode is based on a true story. It didn’t happen in a rural parish, as in the book, but in the Nikolo-Ugreshsky Monastery. I don’t remember the exact name of the priest involved, but a parishioner of mine, now a priest in the Ryazan region, was a seminarian there at the time. He once told me, ‘Last week, a dead man came to confess. He said he hadn’t passed one of the toll houses, but through the prayers of the Mother of God, the Lord gave him time for confession…’ The rest is described in the book.

Miracles and the Power of Faith

AS: Why do so many miracles appear in your books?

AT: I once read a review of my work in the magazine Foma. The reviewer, Vitaly Kaplan, noted that some readers are uncomfortable with the high concentration of miracles in my books. He suggested that it might be more believable to spread them out—two in one book, three in another.

But when I started writing Flavian, I didn’t plan to write multiple books. I just wanted to share as many true stories of divine intervention as possible, because each miracle reveals a different aspect of God’s interaction with the world.

But in the end, I couldn’t fit all the remarkable, miraculous stories into one book, and I had more thoughts and ideas I wanted to share, so a second and then a third book followed. In that third book, I tried to include everything I wanted to say about parish life.

Father Vasily Vladyshesky and the Real-Life Flavian

AS: Would you say that you have something in common with Father Flavian?

AT: Of course, there are some common traits between me and Flavian, and even with the other characters in my books, like Alexei. It’s impossible for an author not to put a little of himself into his characters. But if you’re asking whether I directly based Father Flavian on myself, then the answer is no.

The primary inspiration for Father Flavian was my first rector, the late Archpriest Vasily Vladyshesky. I began my church service under him in 1984 as an altar server, then as a reader and singer, and later, for several years, as a choir director. I eventually left his parish to be ordained a deacon in 1989.

He was a true pastor—a real Russian village priest, just as a parish priest should be. Father Vasily served in the village of Alekshino, near Dorokhovo, at Partizanskaya Station on the Belarusian Railway. Today, his son serves at that same parish. Many of Father Vasily’s qualities—his love for people, his approachability—became part of the character of Father Flavian.

Of course, other respected pastors I have known also influenced the character. They serve as examples for me as well, but I do not consider myself an example for anyone.

Are Priests and Laypeople Really That Different?

AS: Father Alexander, you said you share some traits with all your literary characters, including laypeople. But is it really fair to compare a priest to a layperson?

AT: And what really sets a priest apart from a layperson? A priest has two main duties: to teach people the word of God and to perform the sacred rites of the Church. He is given the grace to do this at his ordination. And, in fact, this is the only thing that truly sets a priest apart from a layperson. In all other respects, we are equals.

Of course, a priest must also teach his parishioners how to communicate practically with God—how to pray! As the Lord said in the Gospel, ‘If two or three gather together in My name, I am there in the midst of them.’ That’s why, from the very beginning, Christians have gathered together to pray. When they pray together, their prayers are stronger, and the presence of God is more clearly felt, bringing His grace and help to those who seek Him.

On Prayer and Spiritual Experience

AS: Some chapters of your books that deal with prayer were reviewed by Athonite monks before publication. What is prayer to you?

AT: Prayer is a living conversation with the Living God. Prayer is impossible without a response, without some form of communication. If a person simply cries out, ‘Lord!’ and all they hear in return is an echo—’O-o-o…’—and then nothing, that’s not real prayer.

But when a person turns to God sincerely and speaks from the heart, pouring out their deepest concerns, they will inevitably feel the loving, fatherly presence of God nearby. They will feel, deep in their soul, His response. Every Christian who leads an active spiritual life has experienced this at some point.

Attending church services, especially the Divine Liturgy, is crucial for learning how to pray. Sometimes, when you pray at home, you might feel nothing, but when you come to church, there is such grace that your soul opens up, and you begin to truly pray, feeling that grace, that tenderness, and even tears of repentance. You’ve probably felt this yourself.

When you come to church with a cold, unfeeling heart, the prayers of the people around you support you, lift you up, and help you begin to ‘swim’ in that great river of communal prayer.

AS: The Holy Fathers teach us to be very cautious about spiritual experiences. They warn against seeking tangible signs of grace. How can a person safely feel the presence of God without falling into spiritual delusion?

AT: If the Lord Himself gives you the gift of feeling His presence, then it is safe. But it is dangerous to seek out such experiences yourself, to crave spiritual “highs,” intense emotional states, or strong inner movements. The presence of the Lord is best felt in the quiet and peace of the heart, in the tender sense of repentance that is united with a warm trust in God’s Love and Mercy. These are the kinds of feelings that are characteristic of divine grace, according to the teachings of the Holy Fathers.

Real-Life Spiritual Warfare

AS: Is the exorcism scene in Flavian also based on real events?

AT: Yes, it is. The character in the book is loosely based on a real girl, though her name wasn’t Ekaterina. And the scene where Father Flavian reads the exorcism prayer of St. Basil the Great, ‘God of gods and Lord of lords…,’ to drive out the unclean spirit—that part is also true. In fact, it happened right in front of me.

At the time, I was still a choir director at the parish of the late Father Vasily Vladyshesky. One of our parishioners brought her friend to the evening service for the first time. The church was nearly empty—most locals preferred the morning services, since the nearest town was five kilometers away, and few people would come for the evening vigil. Usually, only us Muscovites would come in the evenings to sing and read in the choir loft.

Father Vasily was strict about the services, and we often served five-hour vigils, following the Typikon as strictly as in a monastery. Sometimes, Father Vasily would serve the ‘Moleben for the Exorcism of Evil Spirits’ from the Great Book of Needs. A few people struggling with alcoholism or other addictions would come for these prayers, hoping to be freed from their passions. Some found relief, and a few even broke free from their addictions entirely.

On that particular evening, I went to the candle counter to get some candles, and I noticed a girl I didn’t recognize standing nearby. I came back to the choir loft and asked the others, ‘Hey, whose friend is that?’ One of the singers said, ‘Oh, that’s my friend. She’s not well. We met at a summer camp, shared a tent. Whenever I started to say my evening prayers, she would immediately pass out. I would start with “Our Father…” and she would faint. So I brought her to Father Vasily.’

After the service, the two girls went for a walk around the church, while the rest of us were talking near the bell tower. Suddenly, the choir girl ran up to us, shouting, ‘Come quick! My friend is in trouble!’ I was the first to reach her. I picked up the girl, and she just hung limp in my arms like a rag doll. As I carried her, the others started praying, and suddenly, she began convulsing violently in my arms, her mouth twisted in a snarl. I’ll be honest—I was scared.

We called for Father Vasily. He came out, took one look at the situation, and said, ‘Alright, bring her into the church.’

As I carried her up the steps to the church, the intensity of the prayers began to fade, and she went limp again in my arms. I set her down on a wooden chest near the entrance, just trying to keep her from falling over. Father Vasily came over with a small relic pouch wrapped in brocade, just like in the book.

He placed the relic on her head, and it was like an explosion—the girl was thrown back five meters, skidding across the floor. Father Vasily said, ‘Keep the relic on her head while I get the Book of Needs,’ and so I chased her around the floor, holding the relic against her head as she thrashed and writhed, trying to escape its power.

Finally, Father Vasily began reading the exorcism prayer, ‘God of gods…’ and slowly, the girl’s struggles weakened, then stopped altogether. I tried to help her up, but she was completely limp, like a rope in my arms.

Then Father Vasily looked at her and said, ‘Stand up!’ She immediately stood straight up, as if on a hinge, and looked around with clear eyes.

‘Father,’ she said, ‘What happened to me?’

That’s the real-life episode that inspired the scene in the first Flavian book. If you compare the book to this account, you’ll see how it was adapted for the novel. All the other ‘fantastical’ episodes in the book are similarly based on real events, though often with some literary adaptation.

Stay tuned for Part 2, where Father Alexander shares his reflections on his pilgrimages to Mount Athos and the missionary work of regular parish priests.