Orthodox Life: Digital Edition: Vol.61, No. 4, 2010 Through Vol. 62, No. 6, 2011

Information

PART I

Vol. 61, Numbers 4, 5, and 6 • July-December, 2010

The Parish: Christ’s Small Church

Christ’s Church, which encompasses the heavens and the earth—as well as the past, present, and future—has a similar entity on earth in which it is reflected as a drop of dew reflects the sun. This reflection of the Church is the Church parish. The spiritual focal point, and the source of spiritual energy of each parish, is God’s temple or church building. Here in the temple God’s Altar is established, upon which the sacrifice of the Son of God is offered regularly for the living and the departed. Here, through communal prayer, the Church on earth and the heavenly Church are unified; men and women, angels and saints, all stand together before the Throne of God. God’s temple is most sacred. It is the Tree of Life from Paradise established on earth.

Being an earthly heaven, the temple of God serves as a guide to the grace-filled enlightenment of the human soul. It is under the roof of the temple of God that the spiritual life of a Christian germinates, grows, and ripens. Through the temple, a Christian is intimately joined by the Mystery of Holy Communion to our Lord Jesus Christ, to the saints, and to those who have departed. It is a conduit by which a person enters the life of the One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic Orthodox Christian Church. He is thus saved from the state of seclusion and alienation, and from possible tangential, one-sided, and incorrect leanings in his religious life. The tighter and more deliberate the bond between the Christian and the temple, the more fruitful and pure is his spiritual life.

Yet it is not only for each separate Christian, not only for his or her personal individual salvation, that the temple has meaning. The temple is the spiritual center around which a communal Christian life germinates and develops—the life of an Orthodox parish. A Church parish is not only an external, formally administrative unit of a Church diocese. Such a definition does not delve into the depth of the parish’s existence, and is too superficial and void of content. The Church parish is foremost a unification of the faithful in prayer and mutual brotherly love. This unity, which is felt in the depths of the hearts of parish members, is further revealed in the external aspects of parish life. It is not created by parish bylaws or by the necessary decisions of general parish meetings; it grows unnoticeably out of the depths of the hearts of individuals who are bound by a common religious experience and by communion through the Mysteries and prayer under the roof of the same church. How fortunate were those of past times who were baptized and prayed, repented and took Communion, were wed and for whom funeral services were held, all within the walls of the same near and dear temple.

Because of this, the parish church is for Orthodox Christians inseparable tied to their family life. Thus, the Christian family truly becomes that house church spoken of by the Apostle Paul. The Church parish is not simply the unification of individual people. It is more meaningful and correct to see in it a unification of the small house churches—Orthodox families. An Orthodox family that is closely tied to the local church becomes saturated by the spirit of the Church and becomes a healthy environment for the proper spiritual development of its members. The loss of a family’s proximity to a church is the primary cause for joyless alienation from the Church, spiritual isolation, and the wandering away of the younger generation. In true Orthodox families, home life has always been founded on the strong light-filled foundation of Church piety, from which strength, clarity, and stability flowed into the younger generations. Home prayer, the setup of the home, the differentiation of the days—feasts and fasts—the entire order of life, were determined in these families by the Church and parish temple.

Before each parish, before each Orthodox family, before each Orthodox Christian, stands a basic task: to realize ourselves as a part of Christ’s Church and to direct our lives accordingly. Our life, be it on a personal level, in the family, or in the parish, must have as its focal point our unification in Christ, and as its source of energy and sanctification—the parish church.

This task cannot be accomplished by some sort of external means—bylaws, decrees, etc. All such attempts in the past have failed. What resulted was a dead external form, void of internal life. True parish life can only develop organically, from within, from the Church through prayer and brotherly love. In the early Church, amongst the first Christians, this was exactly the case. They would meet weekly on the day of Resurrection for Communion of the Body and Blood of our Lord and were of one heart and of one soul (Acts 4:32). Perhaps for us, in our time, this seems to be an unattainable ideal. But, to one degree or another, this ideal can still be reflected in our life. When this is accomplished, even on the smallest of scales, our life is transfigured: it is filled with life, with meaning, with the joy of authentic Christian life. This has occurred in various Church parishes where true, internal communal life in Christ has been ignited and developed.

This too can happen in any parish, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant. But it can only occur if we wholeheartedly take to task the building of our parish life in faith in God and with brotherly harmony, putting in second place all other concerns and focusing on that which is truly the one thing needful (Luke 10:42).

By Archpriest Sergei Chetverikov

On the Path To God: The Experience of Becoming an Active Orthodox Christian in Today’s World

The problem of the spiritual formation of a Christian in the contemporary world is of paramount importance. Most people are not born into the Church (i.e., are not cradle Orthodox), but enter it at a more conscious age. One enters a new, completely unknown, Church life—which, however, absolutely needs to become his own. This process has come to be called becoming churched [votserkovleniye], i.e., the gradual transformation of a nominal Christian into a real Christian, one who actively functions in the Church. This process of churching can occur rapidly or slowly; sometimes easily, sometimes with great difficulty. Often it can be associated with mistakes, disappointments, and sorrows. To avoid this completely is impossible. However, to help a person who has entered the Church, to give him some advice as he becomes more solidly grounded, is possible. Herein lies the purpose of the present article.

THE TIME OF SPIRITUAL IMPOVERISHMENT

The purpose of Christian life is self-implied. It was given once and for all time by the Savior Himself in his Divine Gospel. It is the acquisition of the Heavenly Kingdom; that is, to exist and be firmly united with God both here, on earth, and in blissful eternity. However, how practically to fulfill these very simple and brief words, how to reach this Kingdom of Heaven, how a Christian can determine how distant or close he personally is from this Kingdom, needs to be clarified by each person for himself.

The life of the human soul in its relation to God, the internal way through which it passes from ignorance of its Creator to perceptible union with Him, has always been relegated to the innermost secret realms; it is concealed from the view of an external observer. The authentic essence of the life of a Christian is internal, the life of the heart, that mysterious abode that the Lord selects as His temple, He for Whom the entire universe itself can set no limits.

It is easiest to understand and master Church rules of an external nature, to perceive the reasons for them. However, to learn the internal work—without which spiritual growth and the success of a Christian are impossible—is much more complex. Scripture says that the Lord is the same yesterday, today, and forever (Hebrews 13:8), i.e., is constant. This is not subject to doubt. Consequently, the internal work of the human soul on the path to God of which we speak must remain constant. However, to paraphrase the familiar words of Saint Ignatius (Brianchaninov) about monasticism, "there are circumstances, characteristic of our time, which greatly influence this process.¹ Our times cannot be characterized as simple. They are in fact complex in many ways, especially in the realm of the spiritual.

In saying this, we refer not only to the increase of temptations and the cruelty and coldness of the world that surrounds us. The study of salvation is not bookish and dry, but alive; it assumes the direct perceptual transfer of experience from teacher to learner.

It is the living experience of Christian selflessness (podvig) that we are acutely lacking today. It cannot be asserted that there are no people who successfully reach a specific measure of holiness, that there is no one working towards this. However, at the same time the fact remains: very frequently the question about the way of salvation, asked by a person who has arrived in the Church, remains unanswered or a formal answer is given, not confirmed by the personal experience of the one responding. Most importantly, people find for themselves too few examples for imitation and instruction. Actions teach much more than words; they teach even without words. Words not confirmed by action inevitably lead to the impoverishment of faith in those who hear them, when they see how greatly actions differ from the words that they have heard.

We can say even more than that. Questions about the spiritual life—about the internal, secret life of the human heart, which is in its essence paramount to Christianity—are pushed aside more and more today. We increasingly concentrate on external activities—albeit necessary and useful in and of themselves—but when deprived of the internal ascetic work frequently risk becoming a mere formality, lacking necessary content.

The Elder Joseph [the Hesychast], who labored on the Holy Mountain in the twentieth century, writes in one of his letters: … treasures will depart into the treasure-houses of God and hunger will set in, when God’s word will not be heard. Luminaries are fading. We walk oppressed by darkness. Words about salvation are rarely heard. Only gossip and censure. One desires to teach another. Someone wants to display his weak life as a model performance of the Gospel, as a continuation of the life of the Fathers. There is a great fear of temptations and exorbitant bragging by words.² He laments all this, living in the very center of Orthodox asceticism—on Mount Athos, the land made famous by its saints and elders!

How much more appropriate it is for us to speak of this misfortune to people who live not in the desert of monastic silence, but in the spiritual desert of our contemporary world.

We are actually living at a time of extreme spiritual impoverishment. Any priest who serves in our midst constantly encounters the spiritual infirmity of people, their incapacity to see within their own souls, to stand up in the spiritual sense, to find their path to God. Certainly, we cannot pretend by any measure to propose some universal prescription in all cases of Church and spiritual life. No, this is merely a completely modest attempt to share some observations and thoughts that, though imperfect, can be useful for those who will give them serious attention.

THE CONCEPT OF CHURCHING

Our people and our country [the author is speaking of Russia—tr.] were forcibly torn away from God; they were torn away from the Church. Of course, this was not the result of some external action, but the fruit of spiritual cooling, of degradation into secularism and lukewarm Christianity. The sum of these internal illnesses corroded Russian society. However, here we are not speaking about the reasons for various historical events, but about the consequences that we encounter and must live with today. An absolute majority of people is not born in the Church. People come into the Church from a world completely alien to it, where they have squandered their lives. Much is incomprehensible to them in the Church. In it they resemble small children who are only becoming acquainted with life, taking their first steps.

Hence, from this practice of arrival into the Church at a ripe or simply conscious age, the concept of "votserkovlenie, churching," appeared in Russia. Figuratively speaking, this churching is the growth of an individual into the organism of the Church, the transformation from a nominal Christian to a real Christian, the entry into Church life to such a depth that this life becomes in complete measure his or her own.

Churching is a compulsory stage through which each must pass. Through the Church, through life in the Church, spiritual life is gradually opened, that path by which the human soul can approach God.

Regretfully, it is frequently necessary to contend with the fact that our contemporaries, considering themselves to be not only believing Orthodox Christians, but also well-churched, in reality do not know very much about Church life, and exist within it as an external element to a significant degree. Therefore it seems to us that a thorough, thoughtful conversation about the process of churching is in order, of how to go about how it correctly in order to create a sound basis for a full spiritual-internal life.

ARRIVAL IN THE CHURCH

Each day many people step over the threshold of an Orthodox temple for the first time. Glory to God, some remain in the Church or, so to speak, properly enter it. From this moment a new life begins: life in the Church. It is new in the true sense of the word: everything in it is unique and unusual; much in it is still unknown. And in view of this novelty, this uniqueness, the person who has entered Church life encounters many questions and bewilderment and, lamentably, more often than not, does not get answers to his dilemmas. Besides, it is not always possible to find a person who can become an experienced teacher and leader for him on this very complex journey. This is often the cause for inevitable errors, disappointments, and grief. Some of this is unavoidable. The newcomer can benefit from some words of counsel as he begins the process of becoming well grounded in the Church.

Generally, there is an element of mystery in how a soul turns to God. Outwardly it seems simple: an individual opens the door and steps over the church threshold for the first time. What stands behind that action? Why do people come into the Church, what brings them there, what forces them to turn onto an unknown street and approach the church and enter it? Usually it is a significant event in their life, sometimes joyful, most often a sorrowful one, that brings them to the temple. Occasionally, it may be the state of a soul dissatisfied with what daily life offers.

These, in reality, are only excuses. The reason is much deeper, and is often not realized immediately by such an individual. Thou created us for Thyself, and our heart does not know rest until it has found quiet in Thee, says Blessed Augustine in his immortal Confessions.³ For the abyss of the human heart can solely be filled by the abyss of Divinity.

After the fall, man was removed from God, was deprived of the possibility of seeing Him as he had in Eden. He likewise ceased to see Him in the phenomena of this earth and in the events of his life. In the spiritual sense, man became blind. The descendant of Adam walks, a lost wanderer, on different roads and crossroads, and cannot find his way—the one that belongs exclusively to him. Much attracts him, promising to deliver enjoyment, to satisfy one passion or another, to lead him to self-actualization. Nevertheless, whatever he does, by whatever joys he is comforted, his soul always remains seemingly unsatisfied, hungry, searching for something, nagged by a certain sadness. And this is completely credible: the soul’s destination is so high that it cannot be completely satisfied by anything low or simply terrestrial. It is created for God and, therefore, even without knowing Him, it searches for Him, for it harbors a dim yet indestructible memory of Him. Man roams among the objects and things of this world that lies in sin, akin to a blind man at the risk of perishing, irrevocably lost. Therefore, the Lord Himself stretches His helping hand out to him. How? Most likely, just as He has stretched it out repeatedly to each one of us, i.e., by sending us trials, misfortunes, and sorrows. In fact, let us think: do many people turn to God when in their life all is going well? No, when all is good, when nothing disturbs us, then we, as a rule, are satisfied by what we have, and easily disregard an obscure call of the soul.

Yet when misfortune and grief come, everything is quite different. The great teacher of monastics and of all Christians who strive for spiritual perfection, Saint John of the Ladder, says that as water that is troubled rises upward, so also the soul, oppressed by misfortunes, returns to God by repentance and is saved.⁴ How true! When man aches, when everything is bad, he begins to search for help. Since the help provided by other people and the entire world often prove to be insufficient, by process of elimination he turns to God, sometimes as a last resort, sometimes as to an untried solution.

In any case, the individual finally steps over the threshold of the church. This moment is very important: much depends upon whom he will meet in the temple, his first feeling, his first impression. Experience shows that how he is greeted in church will determine whether he will remain or leave, frightened, offended, and misunderstood.

It happens in different ways. Sometimes his first encounter is the person in charge of the candle stand. Frequently this is an elderly woman who survived the long years of the atheistic regime, when she and similar Christians were that small flock that remained properly faithful to Christ. Her main accomplishment lies precisely in this faithfulness, and if she has added to it other virtues—including the skill of how to handle an unchurched person who needs soft, patient, lenient treatment—then she deserves glory and praise. If not, let us neither judge her nor be disappointed by such imperfection. If we hear an unkind word from her, let us not immediately run away. She is not the entire Church.

Sometimes the first person encountered in the temple is one of the parishioners. This can be a person who naturally attracts one to himself, who immediately makes a positive impression. Yet it can happen otherwise: something in the appearance of the first person seen can seem at odds with the holiness of the place; his words and actions can even present a real temptation. Yet he is not the entire Church.

Finally, the individual may perchance immediately meet with the priest who serves in the temple. Here impressions and their effect on the soul can vary greatly. A thought may arise: If this person (so outwardly pure, dignified, inspiring) is found here, then it is certain that I was correct to enter the temple. On the contrary, the eyes can meet with human infirmities and deficiencies. Often these may be false impressions based on former preconceived notions that are spread by those alien and even hostile to the Church. But even the priest, although he is a servant of God, is not the entire Church.

What needs to be said here? An individual meets people in church. They can be very different. Most importantly, however, the Lord Himself meets the newcomer in the Church. He Who initially placed in the soul the desire to step over the threshold of the church is calling this soul to Himself. This is of paramount importance. This must be understood. More precisely, it is necessary to believe this.

In the Revelation of the holy Apostle John the Theologian, the Apocalypse, Christ likens Himself to a wanderer Who knocks at the door of human hearts (Revelation 3:20). He does not open them forcefully, does not break them open, but knocks. If an individual opens these doors on his own, then He enters within and ascends the throne in this temple not made by hands. At the time of our creation God allotted us a terrible and great gift: the gift of freedom. He so respects this freedom in His own creation that He will never force man, but lets him make his own choice. The Lord calls and, when we respond to His call, He Himself makes a step toward us. We repeat: God meets the person who has responded to His call and who has entered His temple.

THE BEGINNING OF THE WAY

The question immediately arises: how should an individual begin his life in the Church; how does he build the correct foundation?

Frequently the newcomer who has arrived—or, more accurately, dropped in to the temple—proceeds to perform some external actions. He places candles before the icons of the saints, for from hearsay he knows that they help in various life circumstances. He writes lists of names for the proskomidia, moleben, or panikhida service, still not completely understanding what these words mean, not discerning the difference between a Liturgy and moleben. He remains in the temple for at least several minutes. At times he is moved by the harmony of the Church chanting; on the contrary, at other times he is annoyed by the long and incomprehensible reading (for example, the Six Psalms or the kathismas). Then he departs, with an idea about the temple as of a place of some ritual actions that can have a positive influence on his daily life. But the question Why is Church necessary? remains an open one.

It is very important in this case not to be an indifferent consumer, superficial, who does not penetrate the essence of this phenomenon, who does not attempt to understand. It is necessary to try to answer the following questions for oneself: What really is an Orthodox temple? What brings me here? Why I do hope to obtain (and I do actually obtain) aid and strengthening here? The only possible and correct answer is this: The Church is the only refuge on earth prepared by God for those who search for Him, who strive for eternal salvation, who do not want to be alone, but together with their Creator and Father. It is solely the Church that the Lord left on earth to be His house, His mysterious abode, but accessible for us. And all paths that do not lead to the temple are not necessary for us; they conduct us nowhere. After such an answer, it remains necessary for the individual to realize to what extent he needs the Church personally. An insurmountable desire should arise in him to become a particle, a cell of the Church, and for this it is compulsory to understand what happens inside it.

When a child is first born, everything in the world is new; he learns everything for the first time. In this sense the person who is new in the Church is similar to a child, as we have already mentioned. He sees in the Church much that is novel and incomprehensible to him: the ornate decoration of the temple, the divine services, the different rituals, and the words of hymns and prayers whose language is still only partly intelligible for him. Entering the Church’s peace, He must be introduced to all this; all this must become his own.

Here another question arises: how is one to put that which is stated above into practice? Indeed this person, once having arrived, is most frequently left alone to ponder over his thoughts, doubts, and bewilderment, which only he himself knows about. To expect that immediately someone will take him under his patronage, will worry about him, help it at every turn, to solve all apparent dilemmas, regretfully, is impossible. However, much depends here on the person himself. According to the word of the Gospel: ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and yeshall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you (Matthew 7:7).

Every Orthodox temple is a sanctuary of a special divine presence, a place where the sky visibly bows down to earth, where we actually meet with God, the Theotokos, angels, and saints. All people are very different, each with his own personality. Therefore it is very important that a person select a church suitable for himself and attend it consistently. It is possible to go into different temples to pray; circumstances may dictate this. However, a single temple must become home to the believer, he must become intimately connected to it, internally adhere to it; this is a very important point.

It is even more necessary for the Christian to find a priest to whom he can constantly go to Confession, to whom he can turn for the explanation of that which he does not understand. This is not always simple. Difficulties with this often arise. Some are able to find a Father Confessor immediately; for others it takes months, even years. Often the reason for this is neither the temple nor the priest, but the person himself. If he requires spiritual perfection of the priest, holiness, and unearned love for himself, his search will be long and he may never find a person who fully qualifies. If his requirements are more modest, however, if he is looking for basic answers to his Church questions, for help in the process of his spiritual formation, then finding a priest to confess and guide him will be much more simple.

A very crucial point in churching is consistency, to be systematic about it. One must begin with small steps: a decision to come to church not only when one wants to, but every Saturday and Sunday, every important feast day. Furthermore, one must begin to pray not only when one is in a prayerful mood, but every morning and every evening. Let this be a short prayer rule; the main thing is to fulfill it invariably. The same with Confession and Communion: to approach these Mysteries is necessary not once a year or when the soul is aching from some misfortune that has occurred, but on a regular basis, the frequency of which depends upon the blessing the priest who is nurturing the believer. These are not simply formalities, commands, or orders. No, these are the only possible tools (particularly initially) for the awakening in us a deeply latent spirit, and a measure for its strengthening.

LAWS GOVERNING SPIRITUAL DEVELOPMENT

Frequently people, not only recently churched but also those who have lived a Church life for a long time, complain about the fact that they see in themselves no spiritual progress. They moreover note that in the first days, weeks, and months after their arrival in the Church they perceived unusual happiness and a spiritual uplift; everything seemed easy. Then, on the contrary, everything seemingly begins to diminish, each step is taken with difficulty; Church life becomes something, one may say, customary; it does not bring the soul much happiness. Instead, it begins to see more and more deficiencies. Finally despondency sets in, a spiritual paralysis, when man no longer lives but merely vegetates; no spiritual effort makes sense, no results will come of it anyway. And since there is no labor, there is no change for the better, and it is as if man gives God Himself the responsibility to save him through trials and grief. This situation is not one of only a few Christians; one might say that it is a phenomenon that affects the Church as a whole on a grand scale.

What is the reason for this, one of the most serious problems of our present day? Christians indeed complain about the decline in their spiritual life, about the fact that at first they progressed much more than now. They are sincerely puzzled: why does this happen? However, their bewilderment over this is born only from ignorance of the laws of the spiritual life.

The spiritual life is, in essence, the interrelation between man and divine grace. At first this grace beckons to a person, touches his heart, and he responds to its call, comes to the Church, and turns to God. It is as if one enters childhood anew. During this time grace accomplishes everything in that newly converted soul, carries it in its arms as a mother would a newborn baby. The Lord gives it a taste of happiness, of contact with Him; it clearly shows what life in the Church is—life in God. At this time He diminishes man’s passions, He vouchsafes him to experience various spiritual comforts in order temporarily to distract him, to detach him from the carnal, terrestrial life, to taste celestial life.

Another period then comes. Grace seemingly steps back, hides itself from the Christian. It accompanies him, protects him, but no longer works in place of him. At this time the Lord awaits effort from the person himself, who already has had the experience to discern: here is the terrestrial, while there, the celestial; now he must make a choice. If he desires the celestial, if he wants to be with God, he must demonstrate this.

God is able to give to us grace but, until we make some effort ourselves, this grace will remain something external to us, even foreign; it cannot save us without our own participation. When we are oppressed by our passions and we fight with them, then grace invisibly helps us, cleaves to our soul, to our heart.

A legalistic relationship between man and God is not possible: God loves man and expects love back. It is possible even to say this: we are saved not only by the love of God for us, but also by our love for God. But love is not that which is proven by words. Here there is need of actions that testify to whom or to what we really give our heart. We love the world, we love our passions and, frightening as it may seem, we love sin. This is an unnatural love, and it certainly is incompatible with the love for God.

Therefore we are constantly given the choice between God and what is alien to God. Our path is determined by what we select. If we chose faithfulness to God, then we become affirmed in His love. If we choose the world, our own passions, sin, then we become affirmed in evil.

Man is very damaged. This is due to ancestral sin and to sinful habits that were ingrained in life prior to turning to God. Therefore a constant fight is required, a constant labor of changing oneself for the better. Grace participates in this labor, in this fight, invisibly helping the Christian and strengthening him.

The question sometimes comes up: why is it so difficult and why do we succeed so little in the spiritual life?

The answer is obvious. It is difficult because grace is training us; it takes us to the limit of our own capabilities. We can compare this with a situation in the world of nature. When a small seal is taught by his mother how to float, she only easily supports him from below and, when she sees that he can swim by itself, she ceases to help him, but instead looks on, ready at any moment to come to the rescue.

So the Lord acts with us. He supports us every instant, strengthens us, but most often in a way that we do not notice. The Lord gives to us a chance to make an effort, to learn something, to experience something that brings us close to Him.

The spiritual life is characterized by change; there is no invariability in it. Intercessions of grace and divine comfort always alternate with periods when man feels himself left alone and helpless. Comforts strengthen the infirmity of man; they make him stronger; they teach him to rely on God; they elicit thankfulness towards Him. The sensation of abandonment, the knowledge of one’s own helplessness, on the contrary, subdues human pride; it gives the best opportunity for understanding that without God we are nothing. Feeling our helplessness, we begin earnestly to search for God’s help; it is only then that we most frequently learn for the first time what real prayer is.

Sometimes man is subjected to a very long period of this abandonment, when the sky is seemingly shut for him and the soul becomes completely unreceptive to any spiritual sensation. A similar state is well known not only to feeble sinful people like us, but likewise to real ascetics, to God-pleasers. Here patience and faith are required, as are hope in God and trust in God. While obtaining no spiritual reinforcement and requital, man must work all the same and believe that the Lord sees his grief, his labors, but for some reason considers this trial as beneficial.

At this time the enemy usually confuses a Christian with thoughts of grief and desperation, making him think that those gratifying feelings and the experiences that occurred before will never return, and life will become increasingly worse and worse. But this is a lie. If the person survives this test of spiritual coldness with fortitude, without ceasing to fight and to work on himself, then he will again perceive the action and comfort of grace, moreover in a much larger measure than hitherto known to him.

Then will again come a time of apparent abandonment; then a battle; then ensuing comfort. And thus throughout one’s entire life.

What labor and what fight are necessary from man’s side? It is actually simple and completely feasible: one must disregard the sensation of internal devastation, thoughts about the senselessness of trying; one must not leave