On December 15, 2024, Archbishop Elia of Helsinki was formally enthroned as the new head of the Finnish Orthodox Church at the Uspenski Cathedral in Helsinki.
The ceremony was conducted by Metropolitan Arsenios of Austria, who conveyed the blessings of the Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew.
Archbishop Elia delivered a powerful address acknowledging the great responsibility of his new role, emphasizing the Church’s mission to serve society, especially the marginalized, and its commitment to justice and environmental action. He called for unity, humility in ecumenical dialogue, and shared responsibility in faith, reminding all of the strength of God’s love.
Find below the speech of Archbishop Elia of Helsinki and All Finland:
Reverend Father Hierarchs Arsenios, Arseni, Kleopas,
Agapit, Daniel, Alexander, and Sergei, and
Emeritus Hierarchs Leo, Ambrosius, and Panteleimon,
Honorable Speaker of Parliament,
Esteemed Representatives of our State and Ambassadors of other nations,
Respected Leaders of the Evangelical Lutheran Church and Catholic Church,
and Representatives of the Tatar and Jewish congregations,
Fathers, sisters, and brothers in Christ,
Somehow God, whom I have trusted throughout my life, has brought me to this place at this moment. An enormous responsibility has been placed on my shoulders. My heart is filled with various emotions. Some fearful, as I know the weight of this task and my own inadequacy. Some hopeful, as I know I need not bear this burden alone.
I think of the Evangelist John’s words about the fruitless tree that was thrown into the fire. Today they speak to me in a new way: I pray that I can bear those fruits of the Spirit that the Apostle Paul speaks of – love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness. For ecclesiastical leadership is not about titles or medals – it is life in the Spirit that bears fruit for the life of others.
Standing here, I feel not only your presence but also the prayers of all those who have walked this path before us. Every step in ecclesiastical leadership begins and ends with bowing before Christ. These words are not just liturgy to me – they are the foundation of my life.
First, I want to express my deep gratitude to those bearing responsibility in our Church council. I thank His All-Holiness Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew of Constantinople and the Holy and Sacred Synod of our Patriarchate for the great and special honor of entrusting me with the responsibility of shepherding God’s protected flock of the Orthodox Church of Finland.
Our Archdiocese has been under the spiritual guidance of the Ecumenical Patriarchate of Constantinople since 1923 when the respected Patriarch Meletios and the Holy and Sacred Synod gave our Church the Tomos. Last year, by God’s grace, we were able to celebrate the 100th anniversary of that event in Finland and Estonia in the presence of His All-Holiness. Our strong connection with the Mother Church of Constantinople, as well as with our sister Church in Estonia, will continue. As head of the Church, I want to build even closer cooperation with the Exarchate of the Ecumenical Patriarchate of Lithuania and the independent autocephalous Church of Ukraine.
At the same time, I thank my predecessor, His Eminence Archbishop Leo, whose historically long service in our Church – 45 years as bishop – is itself a testimony of faithfulness. But I am especially grateful for the example he has set in recent years: he did not fear to oppose Russia’s unjust aggression and the delusion of the “Russian World.” Indeed, our Patriarchate condemned the doctrinal nationalization of the Church, or ethnophyletism, as heresy already in the late 19th century.
Sometimes we worry too much about our Church’s statistics: membership numbers, baptisms, and Church attendance. These numbers do not tell of the Church’s true strength. The Church does not exist for itself. We are here for those whose voice does not carry in our society: the marginalized, the forgotten, the persecuted. If we lose this calling, if we remain silent in the face of injustice, if we offer easy answers instead of difficult truths – then we have lost our salt.
At the core of our Christian faith indeed lies a paradoxical logic that defines the Church’s essence: its power is in weakness, its glory in service, its brilliance where the world sees only darkness.
God, who chose weakness over power, calls us today too to see His face where the world turns away. Therefore, the fate of Ukraine’s forcibly displaced children is not just a political question for us but a theological truth: if we do not recognize Christ in these children, we have not recognized Him at all. We must speak for all suffering children everywhere where innocents become victims of violence. The Church cannot be selective about the suffering it sees. If we remain silent about one child’s pain, we lose our right to speak for anyone.
The Church’s task is to remind us of the brightest truths in the darkest times. We have Christ’s example. He did not turn His gaze from Golgotha, did not close His ears to the cries of the crucified, did not flee from the garden, nor hide in palaces or behind temple facades, though He knew what lay ahead. His gaze lingered where the pain was most unbearable, where the darkness of abandonment was deepest. This is the path that calls us: to be present where hearts break and hope seems impossible – there, where only love can endure. Our Patriarch Bartholomew could not express this better when he says that “the Church always descends to the cross but refuses to step down from the cross.”
Dear friends. We are all links in that chain of generations that extends from apostolic times to eschatological fulfillment. We carry on our shoulders not just the memory of past generations, but the living heritage of their prayers, ascetic struggles, and faith. The Orthodox Church is never just the Church of this moment. It is present simultaneously in three dimensions: in the prayers of past saints, in the present liturgical community, and in the promise of the coming kingdom. Its deep understanding of time is not linear but liturgical – every moment is full of eternity, and every Eucharist unites past, present, and future in Christ’s mystical body, His Church.
Nor is the Church just a building made of stone, or an institution regulated by norms – it is a living organism flowing with the life-giving power of the Holy Spirit. It is, as the holy Church father Maximos the Confessor teaches, an icon of God’s kingdom, where time and eternity, visible and invisible, material and spiritual meet in sacramental reality.
The depth of our tradition is also not a weight that chains, but a force that transforms – it always carries us forward toward the fullness of God’s kingdom. In this mystical connection, each generation is called to be renewed in the power of the Spirit, not to preserve the past as a museum memory but to live out the transformative power of the gospel in this time, for the people of this time.
The dynamic nature of our tradition calls us Finnish Orthodox to encounter other traditions as partners in common witness. When I meet representatives of other Churches and religions, I see not just institutions but people who carry the same concern for our world – a world torn by wars and ecological crises. Over the years, I have learned that the Orthodox Church’s self-understanding as the bearer of the fullness of the one, holy, catholic, and apostolic Church calls us not to superiority but to humility. True connection is not born in coffee tables but in the meeting of hearts. Therefore, I want to build bridges – not with papers but with presence, not with agreements but with common prayer.
Our Church’s teaching about the sanctity of creation has never been needed as much as now when we see the crucifixion of the environment around us. We cannot escape into the beauty of our culture while the world burns. We cannot speak of water as holy and pollute it, we cannot praise bread and wine and destroy the earth that produces them. From now on, our Church must be the first on the path of practical environmental actions – not the last.
The prophetic calling is always uncomfortable – it requires us to rise from our comfort zones, to remind those in power of the truth, and to stand alongside the oppressed. This is the measure by which future generations will measure our Church’s credibility. Young people don’t ask us about doctrinal details – they ask where the Church was when our planet’s future was at stake. Therefore, ecological responsibility is not an addition to our Church’s tradition but a calling at its very core, rising directly from the mystery of incarnation and salvation. Christ came to save not just human souls but all creation.
I confess that the demand for a prophetic voice frightens me. It would be easier to remain silent, to hide in the beauty of liturgy, to retreat behind diplomatic shields. But every time I look at the cross on my office wall, I remember that Christ did not choose the easy path. This encapsulates the deepest core of Orthodox tradition: to be ready to bear the cross for truth. If the Church loses this voice – the witness of faith between the burning heart and the suffering world – it becomes an echo chamber where liturgical words circulate without touching reality. Then, the Church is no longer a bridge between heaven and earth but a labyrinth where we get lost in our own spiritual aesthetics. Therefore, I assure you: I, too, will not remain silent when truth demands a voice.
Sisters and brothers in Christ. As I step into this demanding role today, I do so with the same humility with which the publican prayed at the back of the temple, and with the same trust with which Peter stepped onto the waves toward Jesus. I am here today only because God called – not the accomplished but the poor, not the perfect but the imperfect.
The Church is never one person’s Church. I am deeply grateful that I get to share this responsibility with my fellow bishops. At the same time, I am grateful for all the capable workers of our Church – priests, cantors, experts in different fields, workers in parishes, the Church, and its organizations. The Church is ultimately built on trust, not blind hierarchy.
The same God who gave my heavenly intercessor Prophet Elijah the strength to fast for forty days, who protected the three youths in the fiery furnace, who has carried His Church through persecutions and divisions – He works among us too, not just through me but through all of us. Therefore, I now ask for all of your intercessions, that together we might serve with His love and His grace this Church that is dear to us all.
When the saints and you pray for me today, and when Christ Himself leads His Church toward eschatological fulfillment, we can step into the future with confidence. Not because we see clearly ahead, but because God’s light shines in darkness. Not because we are perfect, but because His grace is sufficient. God’s love is stronger than any other force on earth and His light shines brightest precisely in those cracks we cannot patch ourselves.
Archbishop Emeritus Leo delivered also a speech of exhortation to the newly installed Archbishop:
Dear Brother in Christ,
Standing by your side today in this celebration, the prayer of Solomon comes to my mind. When promised anything he desired, he did not ask for wealth, power, or the destruction of his enemies. Instead, he asked for “a discerning heart” to govern his people justly. This same wisdom, I pray, will guide you.
Having served our beloved Church for over five decades, I have come to recognize three foundational pillars on which our Church stands most firmly. It must stand on the side of humanity, moderation, and cooperation. And if you demand something from others, demand the same from yourself first—whether in an ethical and moral sense or all other relationships between people.
Be on the side of humanity. This means we must see the faces behind the statistics and documents. When discussing the economy, work, or other structures, we always first ask: What is the ultimate goal, and what are merely tools? Productivity must never be the measure of human dignity. Our Church’s mission is to boldly remind the world of the teaching of St. John Chrysostom that in the poor neighbor, we meet Christ Himself. This has never been more relevant than now as our parishes respond to the plight of Ukrainian refugees and the tragedy of forcibly displaced children.
When we speak of “flows of refugees” or “displaced persons,” remember that we are talking about a mother who has lost her home or a child violently separated from their family. Each individual has their own story, hopes, and fears—not just a number in cold statistics. If anywhere, here the Church must be a prophetic voice: defending human dignity and honoring the image of God in every person. This is the Church’s unique calling: to see the sacred where the world sees only numbers and problems.
Be on the side of moderation. Standing for moderation does not mean settling for mediocrity. Moderation is not weakness or a lack of ambition but wisdom that recognizes our limits as human beings created by our Creator. It is the ability to discern when growth turns into greed and efficiency turns against humanity. We need both a sense of realism and a moral passion for improving the world. Without realism, our feet lose touch with the ground; without striving for justice, we lose our conscience.
Our Church is not an economic policy advisor, but it is our duty to remind the world of what is just and fair. A culture of greed and short-term gains destroys both humanity and the environment. The same principle of moderation that compels us to see the intrinsic value of human beings also guides us to understand our responsibility for creation. We cannot speak of human dignity without also speaking of the environment in which humanity lives. Nature is not a warehouse of raw materials but God’s creation, a home for all humankind.
Be on the side of cooperation. Taking the side of cooperation arises directly from the principle of moderation—moderation cannot be defined in isolation but only together. This may be the most challenging task in an era when divisions seem only to grow. Our Church must not fear standing for the truth, but it must do so in a way that builds bridges, not walls. Cooperation, however, does not mean abandoning our identity. As Orthodox Christians, we must embrace a paradoxical stance: we believe we are right, yet we defend others’ right to be and act differently. We believe Christ is the only hope for the world and the salt of the earth, yet we do not force anyone to join us.
In our Church’s tradition, cooperation is not merely an administrative principle but a reflection of the love and unity among the persons of the Holy Trinity. Moderation cannot be defined solely by one party, as our Church understands salvation as a communal journey. As we pray in the liturgy “with one voice” and confess “in unanimity,” so too must the Church’s testimony in the world be communal.
Remember also that life’s journey is neither easy nor fair, but it is the path God has laid out for us. The unfairness of life is perhaps most poignantly illustrated in the Book of Job. It is not fair now, nor will it ever be. However, do not fall into the trap of victimhood. Instead, define for yourself what the service of the Church’s head truly means. Is it a financial balance? Flourishing parishes? Happy families within them? The aid of the poor? Good relations with other actors in society? Keep asking yourself these questions. Also, keep in mind the words of our Lord: “What good will it be for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul?” (Matthew 16:26). The essence of the task is revealed when we find our place in God’s plan.
Finding our identity is a sacred task. It often begins with understanding what we are not. By stripping away what you are not and what you do not want to be, you will discover who you truly are and who you wish to become. This applies both to individuals and to the Church. We must dare to say no to things that draw us away from God.
We are the authors of the book of our lives, but rest assured—we are also in God’s hands. Do not fear mistakes—they will come. What matters most is recognizing them, learning from them, and moving forward. Guilt and repentance are necessary but must not become chains.
Beloved fathers, pastors, brothers, sisters, and friends in Christ! Let us build our lives into a temple where God’s glory can dwell. Let us choose our paths wisely, not by the measures of the world, but by what serves our time in eternity. Let us reflect on those practices and ways that nurture joy and genuine tears. Let us give thanks for them. By doing so, we will grow better in them. For in the end, each of us is responsible for how we have used the gifts entrusted to us.
Dear Archbishop Elias, God does not call us to an easy life but a meaningful one. He does not promise us burdens without grace to bear them. Therefore, take on the challenges He sets before us with courage, and remember that when you seek first the kingdom of God, all else will also be given to you. Walk in the light, build wisely, and remember—you are God’s masterpiece, even in your incompleteness. His grace is sufficient.
