Saint Basil, Saint Therapont and Saint Trophim, the New Martyrs of Optina Monastery

Feast Day: October 10th

The Life of Saint Basil, Saint Therapont and Saint Trophim: Father Philip (Pertsev), who transported the Martyrs’ bodies to the morgue, shared his experience: “We were left alone with them and felt something completely inexplicable. Despite the tragedy, my heart seemed ready to burst from joy while standing next to their bodies. How could this be possible? As we removed their Vestments soaked in blood and saw their dreadful wounds, we looked upon their lifeless faces and yet felt an overwhelming joy.” It was such a palpable Miracle that the Monks began singing the Paschal Stichera right there in the morgue…

Prayers

Saint Basil, Saint Therapont and Saint Trophim, the New Martyrs of Optina Monastery, Pray to God for us.

In 1993, Saint Basil the Hieromonk, Saint Therapont the Monk, and Saint Trophim the Monk were brutally Martyred on Easter night.

Saint Basil the Hieromonk

Some people asked him: “Father, do you have a special, sacred wish?” “Yes,” he replied, “I would like to die at Easter, to the chiming of bells.”

“God’s Mercy is a gift, but we must also give up to God all that we possess.”

Three months prior to his arrival at the Monastery, Igor wrote in his diary: “March 12th, 1988. Morning. Mother finds my small Cross. I am 27. I first put this cross on after I had been Christened, 27 years ago. An obvious sign from the Lord, reminiscent of Christ’s words: ‘…pick up your cross and follow Me…’ “

“Love your neighbour as you love thyself, Pray for him, as for thyself, only to see that the sins of your neighbour are YOUR sins, and go down to hell with these sins for the saving of your neighbour. Lord, You gave me love, changed me completely, and now I cannot do otherwise, but to embrace suffering willingly for the sake of my neighbour. I weep, I lament, but cannot do otherwise, for Your love leads me, and I do not want to part with it, for in it I find hope for Salvation, and despair not, seeing it within myself.”

After his death, it was discovered from his diaries that not only did Father Basil hear every word, spoken in the confessional, but pleaded to God for each one of them, with sincere love: “Tis I, Lord, who sins, forgive ME!..”

“Sometimes when I am at Church, the sense of God’s presence fills my whole Soul, and when that happens, I feel like I am no longer among Icons, but among the Saints themselves. Their looks are mysteriously all-knowing. There is no secret that I can hide from them in my Soul, they see all through it, they look in every nook and corner… How horrifying it is to know that I have nowhere to hide, and not even my body can keep the secret of my innermost thoughts and sensations. As I realise this, my Soul goes out of balance: my iniquities and sins outweigh my excuses, and a heavy load burdens my heart, a most sobering experience. My Soul awakens, as if from a bout of sudden pain and anxiety, realising that nothing and nobody can help. Like an infant, it cries out: “Lord have mercy, do not abandon me!” All things are forgotten, all have disappeared, except for the plea that comes from my mind, heart and body: “Lord forgive me! Lord have mercy on me!”

“Monasticism is a bloodless sacrifice. The torment is not in depriving oneself of the joys of family life, good food, creature comforts, worldly entertainments or enjoyments. We often get to enjoy our nice encounters, or find contentment from the sense of our empowerment as we overcome obstacles. The true torment is in confronting our helplessness and the eternal captivity of our passions. This is similar to the position of a prisoner who suffers at the hands of their captors in anticipation of death. A Monk is someone who voluntarily puts his breast under the sword of the Word of God, which pierces them to the point that separates the Soul from the spirit and awakens the desires of the heart. All of this is as real and painful in the spirit as it is in the body.”

“Lord, you gave me love and transformed me from within, inspiring me to accept torment for the sake of another and seek nothing else. I weep and lament, but cannot do otherwise, because Your love is guiding my way. I do not wish to let go of it, for it gives me the hope of Salvation; I have Your love in me, and it keeps me from despairing fully.”

“We know God by the Grace of the Holy Spirit. This new hitherto unknown sense was given to us by God so we would know His love and His goodness. It is like an extra eye or ear to see things we have never seen or hear what we have never heard previously. It is as if we have been given wings and given the whole universe to fly around. The Holy Spirit gives wings to our Souls.”

“Although I am weak, my heart longs for the age-old Monastic exploits in which our Holy Fathers sought Salvation.”

Some testimonies about Saint Basil:

He felt the spirit of Easter so strongly, there would be tears in his shining eyes. He would be lost in a timeless space. He could stand through two lengthy Liturgies in succession, unable to tear himself away from the Easter benevolence and Grace, pervading the very atmosphere. Easter was, for him, a Sacrament, wherein the Spirit hears the call of the world to come. It seemed he was able to hear this call.
Father Basil made a note of all the names of those, who came to Confession to him, or whom he Christened. Afterwards, back in the privacy of his Cell, he bowed low, Praying for all of them to the Lord.
“Father Basil said not a word, as was his custom, during Confession, yet one always left him with an amazing sense of relief, as though one had been absolved from all sin.” – Nun Barbara
“I felt such compassion emanating from Father Basil, it was as though we had one pain and sorrow between the two of us.” – a pilgrim who went to Confess to Father Basil
Father Basil had a large wooden Cross that he’d been given as a gift, featuring an Image of the Saviour, a Cross he preciously guarded. Russian pilgrims had carried this Cross when entering Jerusalem, walking along the Calvary to the Lord’s Tomb, where they had it Sanctified. It is often recalled how Father Basil would say that the most important thing in life was to carry one’s cross to the end, never stumbling on the rise upwards before meeting our Maker. This is why this Cross, that had been carried through Jerusalem, along the Calvary, and Sanctified at the Lord’s Tomb, had so special a significance for him, occupying pride of place in his small Cell. Not long before his death, Father Basil took this Cross and went with it to the Icon workshop, where two Monks — Icon-painters were working. One of them was celebrating his Name Day. Father Basil congratulated him, and presented him with his Cross, saying: “I should like you to keep it with you for a while. Let’s go find a place for it together.” The Cross was hung on the wall near the Icon corner. Later it transpired that Father Basil had brought this Calvary cross to the place of his own private Calvary: he was killed near the Icon workshop, falling down right opposite the Cross.

Saint Therapont the Monk

“True, our sins can be cleansed only with blood…”

“Where there is no Church, there is no life.”

“If you only knew the sufferings I went through to come to Christ.”

“It would be good to be among those who suffered for Christ and accepted Martyrdom for Him. I wish I could be counted worthy of it!”

“Night Prayer warms the Soul and makes you feel a certain sweetness all day long.”

Some testimonies about Saint Therapont:

“Therapont lived exclusively for God, and was so far removed from all earthly cares, even from among the brethren at the Monastery there were few who knew him.” – Hierdeacon Seraphim
“What is there to say? He would be Praying assiduously the whole time in his corner, behind the curtain. He Prayed and he Prayed, that’s all there is to tell.” – the bell-ringer Andrei Suslov
“Once, Monk Therapont and I were busy doing building work at the farm yard. To begin with, due to lack of building materials, we weren’t making much progress, but towards evening things started to go so well, it seemed like a pity to break off. However, at that point the bell for evening Service chimed. Since it was a week day, I suggested to Therapont: “Why don’t we get some more done?” While he said to me: “What, you’ve repented all your sins already?” And straight away set off for Church.” – Hieromonk Phillip
“At one time I was overly serious and portentous. I remember, when at Optina Pustyn, coming out of the Hermitage, I loved to turn to its gates and Cross myself self-consciously and then genuflect, hopefully before a group of tourists, thinking: let them marvel at how pious our youth are! Therapont would sigh upon witnessing my show of piety, and later said to me: “Sasha, why do you Pray like a Pharisee? You should Pray unseen, so that nobody behold you…” – Alexander Gerasimenko
Monk Therapont went to Confession daily. At times he would even Confess twice a day. All of his Monkhood passed in this tireless work of repentance.
Monk Therapont had notes in his Cell, where he put down excerpts from the works by the Holy Fathers of Orthodoxy. He would write out that, of which he later said with conviction: “This has to be lived out in deed.” The walls of his Cell were covered with pages featuring quotations from the Holy Fathers, and he would often reread them, trying to implement all their commandments.
He particularly liked to Pray in solitude, in one of the small chambers of the Church, where the Relics of one of the Optina Elders were kept. Church Service would be over, yet Monk Therapont would still be there in front of the Relics, Praying.
At one time, one of the visitors approached the person on duty in the church, and told him he had found himself there quite by accident, that he had always had serious doubts about God’s existence. “Now I know, God exists!” he said in great agitation to the one on duty, “I saw one Monk praying here. I saw what could only have been the face of an angel, talking to God! Do you know you have Angels here amongst you?” “What Angels?” the confused person queried. The visitor pointed to Monk Therapont, who was just leaving the Church.
One of the Monastery brethren witnessed something similar. Monk Therapont was Praying at the Relics in the empty church, convinced nobody could see him. The brother quietly came out from behind the Altar and chanced to throw a glance at the glowing, Angel-like face of Monk Therapont. He was so shaken, he hurried away.
Monk Therapont had such a thirst for Prayer, even the lengthy Church Services could not alleviate it. His cell-mates recollect how he would Pray and genuflect at night, too. Just as it is so difficult for us sometimes to go and Pray, so it was incredibly hard for the Monk Therapont to cease Prayer.
Not long before he died, he started to give away his warm clothes with the words: “I shall not be needing this any more.” Right on the eve of Easter, he distributed his carpentry tools among the brethren.
He expressed to one of the brothers, “It is so good here, on this Holy land of Optina! For some reason, I wish that this Pascha would be eternal and never end, that its joy would always remain in my heart.” He sighed, looked up at the sky, and, with a gentle smile, said, “Christ is Risen!” “His words instilled such ease and joy in my heart,” the brother later recalled, “as if they were spoken not by a man but an Angel.”
“You see, this egg is from last year; it has been in my Cell since last Pascha. A simple egg would have long gone rotten, but this consecrated Easter egg is still fresh.”
On the eve of Easter, Monk Therapont was in a state of radiant joy, obviously having received from the Lord the gift of enlightenment and foresight. In any case, some of the Monks testified that he could read their minds, while one young lay-brother admitted Therapont had told him his future.
On Easter night, before the murder, Monk Therapont was standing in Church, not in his usual place, but near the table, where Services for the repose of the Souls are usually conducted. He stood, as if immobile, head bowed in Prayer and sorrow. There were a great many people in the Church. He was being shoved and crowded, yet he seemed to notice nothing. Then, he set off for the last Confession of his life. A satanist struck him with a ritual knife when, together with Monk Trofim, he was chiming the bells.

Saint Trophim the Monk

“I am with God, constantly, in body and Soul! I live only for Him!”

“Life has taken its toll on me. I used to wonder what it was all for. But it turns out everything was needed to apply my modest experience here in the Monastery to serve God and people. Glory to You, Lord! How wisely You arrange everything!”

“To begin with, through my pride, I wanted to do everything my way. However, once you’ve trained yourself to be obedient, peace settles on your Soul.”

“Read the Psalm book. Sometimes the sky is overcast, and your spirits are down, yet once you begin reading, a sun ray bursts through, and such joy kindles your spirit! I’ve experienced it personally! Believe me!” – Monk Trofim said to someone who suffered from despondency.

“I read only one prayer: ‘O Lord, Jesus Christ, have mercy on thy sinner.'” – when village folk asked him which Prayer he said to ward off bugs.

Some testimonies about Saint Trophim:

Monk Trofim had such a profound love for people, and dispersed it so generously, that each person saw him as his best friend.
He helped as much as he could, frequently turning up late at the Monastery, and receiving punishment for this. The latter he stoically endured, for he was profoundly aware of the importance of Monastic Obedience.
The village women, in turn, adored Monk Trofim, and he loved them like a son. He would receive a money transfer from home, only to go and spend it on scarves for his grannies, simple white cotton kerchiefs, edged with colour. The old ladies, in turn, treasured these “trophies” more than anything else, all the more so since Monk Trofim would apply them to the Sacred Relics at the Monastery prior to presenting them as gifts.
Monk Trofim’s brother, Gennady, says:”When my other brother, Sanya, and I came to Optina Pustyn to visit our brother Trofim, we began by asking him why on earth he’d decided to be a Monk?! Trofim told us that not long before his leaving for the Monastery he’d had sign — a radiance had been emanating from one of the Icons, and he heard a voice, that said something to him, two or three times. Alas, at the time Sanya and I didn’t have much faith in such Miracles, so we didn’t remember what it was exactly that had been said by the ‘voice.’ What could we possibly know at the time if all we were capable of was pleading with our brother to come back home with us. ‘How can I leave,’ Monk Trofim said at the time, ‘if every time I enter the Church each one of the Icons speaks to me.'”
He would be flying across the field on horseback while the Monastery folk would stop to watch him admiringly. The vision was just like out of a movie. He sat a horse beautifully! Once, somebody asked him if he were a Cossack. “Of course I’m a Cossack!”
In the autumn of 1992, the weather was so rainy, that gathering the potato harvest became a nightmare! Rain came pouring down, our boots were full of water… Every one returned to the Monastery long after dark, so exhausted, there was no strength to go to Church Service. One of the Hieromonks decided to shame the others for not showing up for midnight service: ‘What have things come to? The Church is empty while each one of you has an excuse: “We have returned so late from the fields!” You should follow the example of Monk Trofim — yesterday he was the last out of the field, and the first to arrive for Midnight Service.'” To this I might add that after midnight service, Monk Trofim read all the allotted him Prayers, taking up quite a lot of time, then lit the fire to hang up the other brothers’ wet clothes and boots for drying for the next day’s work. After this, he mended those boots of his brothers’, which desperately needed it. To top it off, one of the lay brothers showed up in the middle of the night with the words: “Imagine, I’ve misplaced my rosary! Can’t find it anywhere… I shall be in trouble if anyone notices its absence!” So, Monk Trofim made him a new rosary that night out of some braid. Monk Trofim didn’t get any sleep that time. In the morning, he was off to harvest the potatoes again.
“I complained to Trofim that I usually sit so long pouring over a book, that afterwards I oversleep and miss Midnight Service. ‘As for me,’ he says, ‘if I sit up too long reading, I never bother to go to bed. I stand on my knees before the bed, and cushion my head on my arms. This way, the arms soon start to tingle, and you certainly won’t fall asleep — you’ll be sure to spring up with the first chime of the bells…'” – a fellow Monk
When, after his death, people started to gather recollections of him, other people’s impressions, it transpired he’d never conducted any mundane conversations with anyone. His thoughts were always addressed to God.
In the late summer of 1992, while assisting a local resident, Monk Trophim expressed a premonition about his fate, “You know, brother, my heart feels that I’m going to die soon.” “What’s wrong with you, Father? You’re a strong man. Why should you die?” the resident asked. Monk Trophim paused, seemingly reluctant to elaborate, then gazed upwards and responded, “I don’t know, brother.” He straightened up and added confidently, “But if God wills, I’ll live another six months.” He then returned to his work. During the Service of Great Monday before his last Pascha, Father Trophim stepped out of the Sanctuary and suddenly sat down on a step. The Troparion was being read at that moment: “Prepare thyself, O my Soul, for the Exodus. The coming of the inexorable Judge is at hand.” Lowering his head, Monk Trophim murmured quietly, “I am ready, O Lord!”
On Great and Holy Friday, during the procession of the Holy Shroud, Monks Trophim and Therapont unexpectedly rang the Paschal chime instead of the funeral bell. As the chief bell-ringer, Monk Trophim was asked to explain this apparent error. His only response was, “Forgive me.” The reason for this unusual act remained a mystery to all.