Born Lev Danilovich Nagolkin, in Karachev, Oryol Province, the man who would become the revered Father Leonid came from humble, likely impoverished, stock. Despite his sharp mind and strong moral compass, Lev couldn’t afford to run his own business or manage a household. Instead, he earned his keep as a clerk for a hemp and hemp oil merchant in Bolhov, in the same province.
His work brought him into contact with people from all walks of life and social standings. With a remarkable memory, a thirst for knowledge, a keen eye, and a knack for seeing the bigger picture, Lev gathered a wealth of diverse and useful knowledge. He became intimately acquainted with Russian life — from the nobility and merchants to the military and navy, and down to the everyday struggles of ordinary people. This broad understanding would later serve him well as a spiritual guide.
Recognising Lev’s diligence and upstanding character, his employer offered him his daughter’s hand in marriage. But Lev Danilovich had other plans entirely.
At 28, he embarked on a different path altogether, entering Optina Pustyn Monastery in 1797. He embraced monastic life with such fervour that within two years, his robust health faltered. He moved between several monasteries, seeking spiritual mentors and respite from unwanted attention. In 1801, at Beloberezhskaya Pustyn Monastery, he took his monastic vows, becoming Leonid, and was swiftly ordained, first as a hierodeacon and then as a hieromonk.
Beloberezhskaya Pustyn Monastery, late 19th Century. The Bell Tower and “New” Cathedral
This rapid rise didn’t inflate Leonid’s pride or diminish his zeal. Quite the opposite — his spiritual growth continued apace. When the choir monks refused to sing the vigil one day, hoping to force the abbot’s hand on some grievance, the abbot, unyielding, instructed Leonid and another monk to sing instead. Leonid, exhausted and dust-covered from a day hauling hay, hadn’t even had supper. Yet, without a murmur, he went to the choir stall. Such was his devotion to obedience.
Even then, the young hieromonk showed extraordinary compassion and foresight. A troubled monk, caught in a delusion, climbed the bell tower, proclaiming he would jump and angels would catch him. Leonid, busy with his duties, suddenly stopped and ran to the tower. Just as the monk leapt, Leonid grabbed his robes, pulling him back from the brink.
His spiritual prowess was undeniable. In 1804, the brethren elected him abbot. Leonid, ever humble, was found toiling away, brewing kvass for the community, having deliberately avoided the election. The entire brotherhood marched to the brewery, removed his apron, took the ladle from his hand, and escorted him to Oryol to be presented to Bishop Dosifey.
Humility remained Father Leonid’s nature, even as abbot. He often travelled on monastery business in a simple, one-horse cart, even taking the reins himself.
Providence then intervened, sending him a seasoned spiritual guide, Schemamonk Theodore, a disciple of the great Elder Paisios Velichkovsky. Theodore arrived at Beloberezhskaya Pustyn in 1805. Two years later, seemingly by divine design, a grave illness struck him. For nine days, he refused food, falling into a three-day, death-like sleep. After enduring what must have been profound spiritual trials, he yearned for a more secluded and silent life.
Schemamonk Theodore (Polzikov) of Svir and Nyamets Monasteries
Out of love and respect, the monks built him a hermitage in the woods, two kilometres from the monastery. There, he settled with another ascetic, Hieroschemamonk Cleopas, in serene isolation. Soon, Leonid joined them, willingly relinquishing his abbacy and taking the schema, becoming Father Leo.
These three spiritual warriors thrived in their seclusion until divine providence dictated a change of scene. The new abbot, resenting the laity and monks seeking the hermits’ guidance, forced Theodore, a constant target of envy, to leave for Paleostrovskaya Pustyn Monastery, where he stayed for three years. Leo, with the ailing Cleopas, moved to Valaam Hermitage in 1811. Theodore managed to join them the following year.
For six years, they lived at a Valaam skete, drawing many brothers seeking spiritual direction with their wisdom. But the persecution continued. The abbot there grew resentful, feeling the elders usurped his authority as the sole spiritual leader of the monks.
Leo and Theodore (Cleopas having passed away in 1816) relocated to Alexander-Svirsky Monastery. They remained there until Theodore’s death in 1822. Afterwards, Leo, with his disciples, sought a more secluded retreat. News of this sparked numerous invitations from various monasteries, including Ploschanskaya Pustyn and the newly established hermitage at Optina Pustyn.
Alexander-Svirsky Monastery
After a long-desired pilgrimage to Kiev, where he venerated the relics of saints in the caves, Leo expressed his wish to go to Optina. But divine wisdom orchestrated a detour through Ploschanskaya Pustyn. There, Father Macarius, the future Optina elder and Leo’s beloved disciple, confidant, and co-celebrant, was praying for a spiritual mentor. Providence brought them together during Leo’s stay. This meeting paved the way for their reunion at Optina. Leo arrived with six disciples in 1829, and Saint Macarius (Ivanov) followed in 1834.
Optina became Father Leo’s final earthly home. He lived there for 12 years, until his death in 1841. He became the first of the Optina elders, the founding father of all who followed, mentor to Saint Macarius and the renowned Elder Ambrose (Grenkov). The Optina brethren welcomed him with open arms.
At that time, the Optina Hermitage was impoverished and unfinished. A small wooden church, dedicated to St. John the Baptist, stood with its modest bell tower, surrounded by a few unplastered, shingle-roofed houses. A simple wattle fence, not a proper wall, enclosed the hermitage, but ancient pine trees rustled protectively around it. To the north lay a spot for beekeeping and a modest cabin built especially for Father Leo, set apart so both monks and laypeople could visit him freely.
In Father Leonid’s cell, a large icon of Saint Alexander of Svir hung, depicting him in full stature on canvas. A large icon of Leo’s guardian angel and the revered Vladimir Icon of the Mother of God, a blessing from Schemamonk Theodore, also graced the space.
Every moment spared from prayer and services, Father Leo dedicated to serving others. He ate twice a day, the simplest of fare. Sleep, including a brief afternoon rest, claimed no more than three hours of his day.
Abbot Moses (Putilov) entrusted the entire brotherhood to Leo’s spiritual guidance, placing himself under the elder’s care. Thus, Leo became the heart of the monastery’s spiritual life, influencing even its practical affairs. He had attained a high level of spiritual maturity, embarking on a new and significant ministry, ordained by divine providence.
The interior of St. John the Baptist’s Hermitage (Goldberg, 1887)
A man of profound prayer, Father Leo remained constantly connected to God amidst the turmoil, sorrow, and bustle of human life. One of his disciples recounted how, in rare moments of solitude, Leo would become so absorbed in prayer that he forgot his attendant’s presence, often not hearing him until words were repeated several times. He often occupied his hands with simple crafts while receiving visitors, weaving belts to give as blessings.
Humility and gentleness defined him. No one ever saw him angry, irritated, or despondent. No one ever heard him complain. A peaceful spirit and quiet joy were his constant companions. “I live and walk before my God,” he would say, “I live for my neighbours, casting aside all hypocrisy and fear of worldly judgement. I fear no one but God.” With this trust in the Lord, he stood unshaken amidst persecution, slander, and the attacks of enemies both seen and unseen, like a rock amidst crashing waves. Schemamonk Theodore, his spiritual mentor, aptly called him “the humble lion.”
Abbot Anthony (Bochkov) left us this portrait of the elder: “His face, round, swarthy, pale from his asceticism yet handsome, bore an expression of both severity and courage, framed by a short beard. His hair, thick and long, in his later years became a veritable lion’s mane, yellow-grey, wavy, cascading well below his shoulders.
His small, grey eyes gazed directly, not scrutinising the visitor, not probing their hidden thoughts. Yet with a single glance, he knew what drew a pilgrim, perhaps after travelling thousands of versts, to his side. His hands were remarkably slender and beautiful… He was taller than average. His gait was graceful; a manly yet light, measured tread suggested he carried his substantial frame with ease. No stooping, no age-induced bending could be seen in this warrior of Christ, hardened by spiritual battles.” Many recalled that despite his simple manner, his presence was truly majestic, instantly inspiring respect and reverence.
Venerable Elder Leo of Optina
Father Leo possessed profound spiritual gifts: the power to heal both body and soul, the gift of unceasing prayer, and the power of spiritual discernment. He could perceive and guide his spiritual children towards what pleased or displeased God, accurately judge the spiritual state of others, and clearly distinguish between true spirituality and delusion. The Lord also granted him the gift of clairvoyance. He could read the secrets of his charges’ hearts, their hidden thoughts, reminding them of forgotten sins.
Abbot Anthony (Bochkov)
When necessary, the elder could humble and admonish someone, yet he had an exquisite understanding of each person’s capacity to bear correction and how best to comfort them. Even after a stern reprimand, no one left feeling disheartened. One of his spiritual children recalled, “Sometimes, Father would deliver such a severe and formidable scolding that I could barely stand. But then, he would humble himself like a child, offering such peace and solace that my heart felt light and joyful. I’d leave peaceful and cheerful as if he’d praised rather than reproached me.”
In the elder’s presence, people felt peace, spiritual joy, and a calming of the heart. They often came burdened with sorrow and grief, but left his cell soothed and gladdened. Another disciple remembered, “I noticed while living in the monastery, that sometimes melancholy and despair would grip me, and troubling thoughts would torment me. I’d go to Father for comfort, and the moment I entered his cell, everything would vanish. A sudden quietness and joy would fill my heart. Father would ask, ‘Why have you come?’ and I wouldn’t know what to say. He’d take oil from the lamp, anoint me, and give his blessing. I’d leave with joy in my heart and peace in my soul.”
He knew how and whom to rebuke. Once, a novice offended an older monk, and both came to Father Leo to complain. It was clear to everyone who was at fault. But the elder saw it differently. To the older monk, he said,
“Aren’t you ashamed to lower yourself to the level of a novice? He’s just arrived from the world, his hair hasn’t even grown long yet. You can’t judge him harshly if he speaks out of turn. But you — how many years have you lived in the monastery, and you still haven’t learned to watch your own tongue!”
Off they went, with the novice feeling triumphant, utterly convinced of his righteousness. However, when he next visited the elder alone, Father Leo took his hand and said, “What’s this you’re doing, brother? Fresh from the world, your hair hasn’t even had time to grow, and you’re already insulting the senior monks!” This unexpected reprimand hit home so powerfully that the novice, deeply repentant, begged forgiveness.
There was another monk at Optina who constantly pestered Father Leo for permission to wear chains as a form of penance. The elder had dissuaded many from such practices, and he explained to this brother that salvation didn’t lie in chains. But the monk persisted. So, Father Leo decided to show him his true spiritual stature. He called for the blacksmith and instructed him, “When this brother comes asking for chains, give him a good slap.”
When the monk next pleaded for chains, the elder sent him to the blacksmith. The brother, thrilled, hurried to the forge and announced, “Father Leo has blessed you to make me some chains.” The blacksmith, busy at his work, promptly slapped him, saying, “Chains, you say?” Unable to bear the insult, the monk retaliated, and both men went to the elder to adjudicate. The blacksmith, of course, was blameless. To the chain-seeking monk, Father Leo said, “How can you presume to wear chains when you can’t even endure a single slap?”
The elder taught simplicity, sincerity, and a lack of pretence, qualities that attract God’s grace. “Unfeignedness, guilelessness, openness of soul — these are what please the Lord, who is humble of heart,” he said.
Semyon Ivanovich, a Kozelsk resident, recounted how Father Leo taught him to endure hardship. “In the 1830s,” he said, “I made pottery for a living. My mother and I lived in our little house. We didn’t own a horse, but we had a decent cart. I’d load it with pots, borrow a horse, and take them to market. That’s how we scraped by. At the time, a Polish soldier was lodging with us, but he left and fell in with a bad crowd. One day, he snuck into our yard and stole the wheels from our cart.”
“I told Father Leo my woes, explaining that I knew the thief and could retrieve the wheels. ‘Leave it be, Semyon,’ the elder replied. ‘This is God’s chastisement. Accept it, and you'll avoid greater woes with this small suffering. But if you refuse to endure this small trial, you’ll be punished more severely.’”
“I heeded his advice, and everything happened just as he’d foretold. Soon after, the same soldier crept back into our yard, dragged a sack of flour from the shed, hoisted it onto his shoulder, and tried to escape through the garden. My mother, coming from the garden, bumped into him. ‘Where are you going with that?’ she asked. He dropped the sack and ran.”
“Shortly afterwards, there was another incident. We had a cow we’d decided to sell. We found a buyer, agreed on a price, and took a deposit. But for some reason, the buyer didn’t collect the cow for several days. Finally, he took her. The very next night, a thief broke into the stall where our cow had been kept, undoubtedly to steal her. But she was gone! Again, through the elder’s prayers, the Lord spared us from misfortune.”
“Years later,” Semyon Ivanovich continued, “a third similar incident occurred, after my mother’s death. Holy Week was ending, and Easter was approaching. For some reason, I decided to move all my important belongings from my little house to my sister’s place next door. I secured my own house and went to Matins. Usually, I felt joyful at this service, but that morning, a strange unease settled upon me. Returning from matins, I saw my windows open, the door ajar. ‘Someone’s been here,’ I thought. And indeed, they had. But because I’d moved everything of value, they’d left with practically nothing.
Three times, Father Leonid’s prophecy came true. By bearing small misfortunes, I was spared greater ones."
The elder often directed the afflicted to venerate the relics of Saint Mitrofan of Voronezh. Many returned to thank him for their recovery, sometimes even healed *en route*. He offered solace and healing to countless souls and bodies, anointing them with oil from the ever-burning lamp that flickered before the Vladimir Icon of the Mother of God in his cell.
Saint Mitrofan of Voronezh
People brought those tormented by demons to him. Many were unaware of their affliction until the elder, discerning the hidden darkness within them, exposed it, and their torment became manifest.
Abbot P. recounted, “Soon after I arrived at Optina, around 1832, a peasant woman, possessed by a demon, was brought to the elder. During her fits, she spoke in foreign tongues. Three times, the elder prayed over her, anointed her with oil from the lamp before the icon of the Mother of God, and gave her the oil to drink. She was brought back a second time, still unwell, but on the third visit, she was cured. When the elder’s cell attendant asked her to speak in those foreign languages, she replied, ‘Oh, Father! How can I speak in foreign languages? I can barely speak my own (Russian) and can hardly walk. Praise God, my illness is gone!’”
Once, six men brought a possessed woman to Father Leo. Upon seeing him, she collapsed, crying out, “This grey-haired man will drive me out! I’ve been to Kiev, Moscow, Voronezh — no one could cast me out. But now I’ll leave!” The elder prayed over her and anointed her with holy oil from the lamp by the icon of the Mother of God. After his prayers, the woman quietly rose and left his cell. Every year thereafter, she returned to Optina, completely healed. After the elder’s death, she would take earth from his grave, believing in its power, and give it to other sufferers, who also found relief.
There is a well-known story about a nun from Sevsk Convent who suffered from breast cancer. Doctors, unable to help, gave her three days to live. During the vigil on the eve of the Feast of the Presentation of the Mother of God, her pain became unbearable. Suddenly, two elders appeared to her. One said, “Come to me at Optina, pray to God, and you’ll be healed.” Mustering her remaining strength, she set off. Upon reaching Optina Pustyn, the two elders visited her at the inn. She recognised them as the figures from her vision. The elder was Father Leo; the younger, was Father Macarius. They spoke with her at length. The next morning, Father Leo came, anointed her breast with oil from the lamp, and sprinkled her with holy water. Her pain vanished instantly, and by evening, she was completely cured. Instead of the predicted three days, she lived for more than twenty years, thanks to the elder’s prayers.
“Often,” recounted Hieroschemamonk Anthony of the Kiev Caves Lavra, “a sick person would come to Father, barely able to drag their feet, but leave walking briskly and cheerfully, proclaiming their joy at being healed.”
In September 1841, the elder began to weaken noticeably. He stopped eating and received Holy Communion daily. His body and hands grew cold. To his beloved spiritual children and his cell attendant, Jacob, he said, “If I receive God’s mercy, my body will become warm again.”
On 15 September, Father Leo received the sacrament of Holy Unction and began preparing for his departure. He bade farewell to the brethren who visited him, blessing them, and offering comfort to all. On 28th September, after receiving Communion, he requested the Canon for the Departure of the Soul be sung. The brethren, sensing their impending loss, begged him not to leave them in sorrow. With tears in his eyes, he replied, “My children! If I find favour with the Lord, I will take you all to myself. I entrust you to the Lord. He will help you complete your course; only turn to Him, and He will protect you from temptation.”
Before his passing, Father Leo told his gathered spiritual children, “Now, God’s mercy will be with me.” He made the sign of the cross and repeated several times, “Glory to God!” A spiritual joy filled him. Despite his physical suffering, he couldn’t conceal his happiness; his face radiated light. With a prayer on his lips, he surrendered his spirit to God.
Hieromonk Macarius, Father Leo’s faithful disciple and successor as elder, expressed the shared grief of their spiritual children: “Our dear Father Leo is no longer with us. The earth has claimed his body, but his soul has surely passed into God’s hands... You will undoubtedly grieve our loss, but also find comfort in his repose, which he will undoubtedly find through God’s mercy…. We cannot doubt that he has found favour with the Lord and will surely intercede for us sinners, as we wander through this vale of tears, battling temptations of body and soul.”
After his passing, the elder’s body lay in the church for three days, emitting no odour of decay. It warmed the clothes he was dressed in and even the bottom board of his coffin. The day of his death coincided with the vigil commemorating the Holy Fathers of the Seven Ecumenical Councils.
The relics of Venerable Elders Leo (left) and Macarius (right) of Optina in the Vladimir Cathedral of Optina Pustyn
In 1996, Father Leo was canonised as a locally venerated saint of Optina Pustyn. Then, in August 2000, the Jubilee Bishops’ Council of the Russian Orthodox Church glorified him for universal veneration. His relics rest in the Vladimir Church at Optina Pustyn.
