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'A fine and fierce Orthodox theologian'
Militza Vladimirovna Lavrova-Zernova
30th August 1899 – 4th February 1994
By Wendy Robinson
Militza Zernov was a fine and fierce Orthodox theologian. In talks and discussions she would go right to the heart of the matter. Those who knew her will remember that she could make short shrift of opposition – but always because of her impassioned commitment to the profundities of the truths of the Orthodox faith. In particular Militza believed that most truths could only be expressed in antinomies, as can be seen in the title of her essay, ‘Freedom and Discipline in Orthodox Worship’. In my early days as an Orthodox Christian, Militza and I had many discussions on this theme. Only gradually did I come to find that sharing in the traditional customary responses was a greater personal freedom than too much individualism. My only plea now would be that any reminders given to people about their behaviour should be given with compassion, tact and sound teaching. Some people are careless and thoughtless but most are just ignorant and often feel very abashed and ashamed when rebuked sharply, so that they become nervous which does not help. There are deep meanings
in what is done and not done and they can be taught.
Militza Zernov was proud to have been born in Georgia because of its heritage of strong independent Christian women – led by St Nina. Both Militza's grandfathers were Orthodox priests. She had a great devotion to her father and often spoke of the time just before his death, when he endured great suffering patiently and the light of his faith shone through and sustained him. In exile in Paris he was the Librarian of the Russian Student Christian Movement and was admired for his great integrity and his gentle care of others.
Militza's mother and father met in the educational world , as her mother was a creative teacher. They took care to send Militza and her sister to a private, progressive and co-educational school, where one of the finest teachers was Alexander Elchaninov who later became a priest and renowned spiritual guide.
In 1917, at University in Moscow, Militza's great adventures began. She saw the beginning of streetfighting and always remembered with great sorrow the impact on her of seeing rows of young dead laid out in the University hall. Militza walked in their funeral procession. Later she found that Nicolas, Sonia and Maria Zernov were also there, helping
to guard the procession. Militza had to return to Tiflis where she
was filled with a restless longing to go to Paris. With much family sacrifice she was found a place on the ship that turned out to be the last one before Tiflis was taken by the Reds. Although she feared that she would never see her family again, mercifully her parents and sister were later able to join her in Paris.
Her first years in exile were lonely. She read medicine and eventually, years later in England, became a consultant in oral surgery in London hospitals, with a particular flair for dentistry with children – no mean feat! During that lonely period in Paris, Militza had an overwhelming sense of God’s presence and reality. Her consequent total commitment to her faith and to the Orthodox Church was the beginning of what she saw as ardent, golden years. At a conference in Prague with the Russian Student Christian Movement in 1923, Nicolas and Militza met for the first time. In his journal he noted her attractive qualities and added, ‘I felt she was unsure of herself but that she was capable of giving herself wholeheartedly to some cause, all compromise being completely alien to her – in which she was very Russian.’ How accurate that sounds to those of us who knew and loved her later. Eventually Nicolas and Militza were married on the Feast of the Protecting Veil of the Mother of God in 1927, spending part of their honeymoon at Lourdes.
It was a creative and tempestuous marriage. Nicolas and Militza had a shared faith, and carried out truly apostolic labours on behalf of Orthodoxy in the West and ecumenism. Yet Militza knew that ‘our emotional temperaments were diametrically opposed … our whole life was a duel’. Nicolas added, ‘Our life was a duel in which there was no loser!’ There was a vulnerability in Militza that could make her passionate, turbulent and stormy. Often, too, she had to act as the dragon at the gate to defend Nicolas, who was quite incapable of saying no to innumerable demands. Nevertheless, their marriage and their home were a haven to many of us. Seekers for truth were always welcome to the endless marvelous, provocative discussions in their simple home. Both of them believed in the importance of truth, and the possibility of renewing love through repentance and forgiveness, immersed in the sacramental life of the Church.
Nicolas and Militza came to England in 1934. What wonderful gifts they brought to their adopted country – not only personal ones but for the community as a whole. They often had to be apart in the wartime years, but their life together was a series of immense podvigs. In 1945 they were instrumental in setting up St Basil’s House in Ladbroke Grove in London. Later there were three houses in Oxford: St Gregory, St Macrina, and finally St Theosevia. And of course they were founder members of the Orthodox Community in Oxford, and were much involved in the building of the church in Canterbury Road. Militza had a very well developed ascetic sense and there were sometimes fierce battles over the way things were arranged.

Both Nicolas and Militza loved talking about their many travels. They took particular delight in their time in India in 1953-54, when Nicolas was asked to act at Principle of the Catholicate College of the Syrian Orthodox of Malabar in Kerala. Everywhere they went – especially on their world tour after retirement – they met people whose lives had been changed, often radically, through meetings with them. Many of us who were Militza's spiritual children (perhaps sometimes compensating a little for her sadness that she and Nicolas did not have children of their own) will always remember her deep theological teaching and her piercing and sometimes devastating insights into one’s spiritual condition. Sometimes her insistence could lead to battles over freedom, but always after abrupt dismissals she would seek restoration and forgiveness. She was as tough and clearminded about her own failings as she was about anyone else’s. How I miss her rigour in my life And her inimitable idiosyncratic grasp of the English language which invariably hit the nail on the head, whether in correct or incorrect usage.
After Nicolas's death, in spite of her deep sorrow, Militza continued to tackle life with all her old courage and vigour. Due to a generous legacy from Professor Nadezhda Gorodetsky it was possible for her, with others, to found St Theosevia House for the Study of Christian Spirituality. Militza organised Nicolas's extensive library and was eventually able to see its-departure for Russia.
Militza had a long journey before her own death. I will always remember
her quiet and attentive presence it Church in her late eighties and nineties. Both she and Nicolas had a particular way of focusing utterly and entirely on the Liturgy once it began. Her last struggles were of course over the problem of how to yield her unflaggingly independent spirit. Nicolas once wrote that it was often in her letters and in her later iconography that the quiet, radiant and poetic side of Militza's temperament was revealed most beautifully. Militza once painted for me an icon of Christ: The Perfect Silence. It is a profound icon and takes one deeply into the mysteries of Christ. She also made for Nicolas's library of the Christ of Compassion: ‘Come unto me….’. Both will always speak to me of the radiant depths of Militza, who was valiant for truth and who suffered much. Like so many of us, she was sometimes her own worst enemy, and knew it, but all the time she also knew and witnessed to the Love and Truth that we find in Christ, and in the true practice of the Orthodox Faith.
Wendy Robinson
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