Biography
Metropolitan of Tula and Efremov Alexy, in the world - Andrey Nikolaevich Kutepov.
Born on May 10, 1953 in Moscow, in a working-class family.
In 1970 he graduated from high school and entered the Faculty of Chemistry of Moscow State Pedagogical Institute. Lenin, in 1972 - 1975 he studied at the Moscow Theological Seminary.
On February 15, 1975, Bishop Serapion of Podolsk (Fadeev, later Metropolitan of Tula and Belevsky + 1999) ordained him as a deacon.
On June 22, 1975, he was ordained as a presbyter, appointed secretary of the Bishop of Irkutsk and Chita, rector of the Znamensky Cathedral in Irkutsk and dean of the churches of the 1st and 2nd Irkutsk districts.
On September 7, 1975, in the Trinity-Sergius Lavra, Bishop Serapion (Fadeev) tonsured him into monasticism with the name Alexy in honor of the Moscow saint; on September 8, he was elevated to the rank of abbot, and on November 20, to the rank of archimandrite.
In 1979 he graduated from the Moscow Theological Academy with a candidate of theology degree for his essay on patrolology “The Patristic Teaching of the Mother of God.”
In May 1980, he was appointed secretary of the Archbishop of Vladimir and Suzdal, rector of the Assumption Cathedral in the city of Vladimir, and dean of the churches of the Vladimir and Murom districts.
On March 27, 1984, he was appointed vicar of the Trinity-Sergius Lavra and a member of the synodal commission for preparing the celebration of the 1000th anniversary of the Baptism of Russia.
From October 20, 1988 to July 20, 1990 - Chairman of the Economic Administration of the Moscow Patriarchate.
On December 1, 1988, he was consecrated Bishop of Zaraisk, vicar of the Moscow diocese.
On December 30, 1988, he was elevated to the rank of archbishop.
In 1989 he was elected a member of the USSR Environmental Fund.
In 1990, he was a member of the Holy Synod Commission for the preparation of the Local Council.
On July 20, 1990, he was appointed to the Alma-Ata and Kazakhstan department.
Since January 30, 1991, Archbishop of Alma-Ata and Semipalatinsk.
Since April 1, 1999, Archbishop of Astana and Alma-Ata.
In 2002, he was awarded the Order of the Republic of Kazakhstan “Parasat” (Order of Honor).
On October 7, 2002, he was appointed Archbishop of Tula and Belevsky, rector of the Tula Theological Seminary.
On March 10, 2007, he was awarded the Golden Badge of Honor “Public Recognition.”
On April 20, 2009, he was elevated to the rank of metropolitan.
On September 29, 2009, he was awarded the title “Honorary Citizen of the Tula Region.”
On December 28, 2011, he was appointed head of the Tula Metropolis with the title of Tula and Efremov.
On March 8, 2015, he was awarded the State Award of the Russian Federation “Order of Honor”.
Recipient of church awards:
- Order of Saint Equal-to-the-Apostles Prince Vladimir, 1st and 3rd degree;
- Order of St. Sergius of Radonezh II and III degrees;
- Order of the Holy Blessed Grand Duke Daniel of Moscow, 1st and 2nd degree;
- Order of St. Innocent Metropolitan of Moscow, II degree;
- Order of St. Seraphim of Sarov, II degree;
- Order of the Holy Apostle Mark, 1st degree (Alexandrian Orthodox Church);
- Order of the Holy Sepulcher, 1st degree (Jerusalem Orthodox Church);
- Order of St. Cyril and Methodius, II degree (Czechoslovak Orthodox Church).
Excerpt characterizing Alexy (Kutepov)
- He's coming! - the makhalny shouted at this time. The regimental commander, blushing, ran up to the horse, with trembling hands took the stirrup, threw the body over, straightened himself, took out his sword and with a happy, decisive face, his mouth open to the side, prepared to shout. The regiment perked up like a recovering bird and froze. - Smir r r r na! - the regimental commander shouted in a soul-shaking voice, joyful for himself, strict in relation to the regiment and friendly in relation to the approaching commander. Along a wide, tree-lined, highwayless road, a tall blue Viennese carriage rode in a row at a brisk trot, its springs slightly rattling. Behind the carriage galloped a retinue and a convoy of Croats. Next to Kutuzov sat an Austrian general in a strange white uniform among the black Russians. The carriage stopped at the shelf. Kutuzov and the Austrian general were talking quietly about something, and Kutuzov smiled slightly, while, stepping heavily, he lowered his foot from the footrest, as if these 2,000 people were not there, who were looking at him and the regimental commander without breathing . A shout of command was heard, and again the regiment trembled with a ringing sound, putting itself on guard. In the dead silence the weak voice of the commander-in-chief was heard. The regiment barked: “We wish you good health, yours!” And again everything froze. At first, Kutuzov stood in one place while the regiment moved; then Kutuzov, next to the white general, on foot, accompanied by his retinue, began to walk along the ranks. By the way the regimental commander saluted the commander-in-chief, glaring at him with his eyes, stretching out and getting closer, how he leaned forward and followed the generals along the ranks, barely maintaining a trembling movement, how he jumped at every word and movement of the commander-in-chief, it was clear that he was fulfilling his duties subordinate with even greater pleasure than the duties of a superior. The regiment, thanks to the rigor and diligence of the regimental commander, was in excellent condition compared to others who came to Braunau at the same time. There were only 217 people who were retarded and sick. And everything was fine, except for the shoes. Kutuzov walked through the ranks, occasionally stopping and speaking a few kind words to the officers whom he knew from the Turkish war, and sometimes to the soldiers. Looking at the shoes, he sadly shook his head several times and pointed them out to the Austrian general with such an expression that he didn’t seem to blame anyone for it, but he couldn’t help but see how bad it was. Each time the regimental commander ran ahead, afraid to miss the commander-in-chief's word regarding the regiment. Behind Kutuzov, at such a distance that any faintly spoken word could be heard, walked about 20 people in his retinue. The gentlemen of the retinue talked among themselves and sometimes laughed. The handsome adjutant walked closest to the commander-in-chief. It was Prince Bolkonsky. Next to him walked his comrade Nesvitsky, a tall staff officer, extremely fat, with a kind and smiling handsome face and moist eyes; Nesvitsky could hardly restrain himself from laughing, excited by the blackish hussar officer walking next to him. The hussar officer, without smiling, without changing the expression of his fixed eyes, looked with a serious face at the back of the regimental commander and imitated his every movement. Every time the regimental commander flinched and bent forward, in exactly the same way, in exactly the same way, the hussar officer flinched and bent forward. Nesvitsky laughed and pushed others to look at the funny man. Kutuzov walked slowly and sluggishly past thousands of eyes that rolled out of their sockets, watching their boss. Having caught up with the 3rd company, he suddenly stopped. The retinue, not anticipating this stop, involuntarily moved towards him. - Ah, Timokhin! - said the commander-in-chief, recognizing the captain with the red nose, who suffered for his blue overcoat. It seemed that it was impossible to stretch out more than Timokhin stretched out, while the regimental commander reprimanded him. But at that moment the commander-in-chief addressed him, the captain stood up straight so that it seemed that if the commander-in-chief had looked at him for a little longer, the captain would not have been able to stand it; and therefore Kutuzov, apparently understanding his position and wishing, on the contrary, all the best for the captain, hastily turned away. A barely noticeable smile ran across Kutuzov’s plump, wound-disfigured face. “Another Izmailovo comrade,” he said. - Brave officer! Are you happy with it? – Kutuzov asked the regimental commander. And the regimental commander, reflected as in a mirror, invisibly to himself, in a hussar officer, shuddered, came forward and answered: “Very pleased, Your Excellency.” “We are all not without weaknesses,” said Kutuzov, smiling and moving away from him. “He had a devotion to Bacchus. The regimental commander was afraid that he was to blame for this, and did not answer anything. The officer at that moment noticed the captain’s face with a red nose and a tucked belly and imitated his face and pose so closely that Nesvitsky could not stop laughing. Kutuzov turned around. It was clear that the officer could control his face as he wanted: the minute Kutuzov turned around, the officer managed to make a grimace, and after that take on the most serious, respectful and innocent expression. The third company was the last, and Kutuzov thought about it, apparently remembering something. Prince Andrei stepped out from his retinue and said quietly in French: “You ordered a reminder of the demoted Dolokhov in this regiment.” -Where is Dolokhov? – asked Kutuzov. Dolokhov, already dressed in a soldier’s gray overcoat, did not wait to be called. The slender figure of a blond soldier with clear blue eyes stepped out from the front. He approached the commander-in-chief and put him on guard. - Claim? – Kutuzov asked, frowning slightly. “This is Dolokhov,” said Prince Andrei. - A! - said Kutuzov. “I hope this lesson will correct you, serve well.” The Lord is merciful. And I will not forget you if you deserve it. Blue, clear eyes looked at the commander-in-chief as defiantly as at the regimental commander, as if with their expression they were tearing apart the veil of convention that so far separated the commander-in-chief from the soldier. “I ask one thing, Your Excellency,” he said in his sonorous, firm, unhurried voice. “Please give me a chance to make amends for my guilt and prove my devotion to the Emperor and Russia.” Kutuzov turned away. The same smile in his eyes flashed across his face as when he turned away from Captain Timokhin. He turned away and winced, as if he wanted to express that everything that Dolokhov told him, and everything that he could tell him, he had known for a long, long time, that all this had already bored him and that all this was not at all what he needed . He turned away and headed towards the stroller. The regiment disbanded in companies and headed to assigned quarters not far from Braunau, where they hoped to put on shoes, dress and rest after difficult marches. – You don’t lay claim to me, Prokhor Ignatyich? - said the regimental commander, driving around the 3rd company moving towards the place and approaching Captain Timokhin, who was walking in front of it. The regimental commander’s face expressed uncontrollable joy after a happily completed review. - The royal service... it’s impossible... another time you’ll end it at the front... I’ll apologize first, you know me... I thanked you very much! - And he extended his hand to the company commander. - For mercy's sake, general, do I dare! - answered the captain, turning red with his nose, smiling and revealing with a smile the lack of two front teeth, knocked out by the butt under Ishmael. - Yes, tell Mr. Dolokhov that I will not forget him, so that he can be calm. Yes, please tell me, I kept wanting to ask how he is, how he is behaving? And that's all... - Very serviceable in his service, Your Excellency... but the charterer... - said Timokhin. - What, what character? – asked the regimental commander. “Your Excellency finds, for days,” said the captain, “that he is smart, learned, and kind.” It's a beast. He killed a Jew in Poland, if you please... “Well, yes, well,” said the regimental commander, “we must still feel sorry for the young man in misfortune.” After all, great connections... So you’re the one... “I’m listening, your Excellency,” Timokhin said, smiling, making it feel like he understood the boss’s wishes. - Yes Yes. The regimental commander found Dolokhov in the ranks and reined in his horse. “Before the first task, epaulets,” he told him. Dolokhov looked around, said nothing and did not change the expression of his mockingly smiling mouth. “Well, that’s good,” continued the regimental commander. “The people each have a glass of vodka from me,” he added so that the soldiers could hear. – Thank you everyone! God bless! - And he, overtaking the company, drove up to another. “Well, he’s really a good man; “You can serve with him,” said subaltern Timokhin to the officer walking next to him. “One word, the king of hearts!... (the regimental commander was nicknamed the king of hearts),” the subaltern officer said, laughing. The happy mood of the authorities after the review spread to the soldiers. The company walked cheerfully. Soldiers' voices were talking from all sides. - What did they say, crooked Kutuzov, about one eye? - Otherwise, no! Totally crooked. - No... brother, he has bigger eyes than you. Boots and tucks - I looked at everything... - How he, my brother, looks at my feet... well! I think... - And the other Austrian, with him, was as if smeared with chalk. Like flour, white. I tea, how they clean ammunition! - What, Fedeshow!... did he say that when the fighting began, you stood closer? They all said that Bunaparte himself stands in Brunovo. - Bunaparte is worth it! he's lying, you fool! What he doesn’t know! Now the Prussian is rebelling. The Austrian, therefore, pacifies him. As soon as he makes peace, then war will open with Bunaparte. Otherwise, he says, Bunaparte is standing in Brunovo! That's what shows that he's a fool. Listen more. - Look, damn the lodgers! The fifth company, look, is already turning into the village, they will cook porridge, and we still won’t reach the place. - Give me a cracker, damn it. - Did you give me tobacco yesterday? That's it, brother. Well, here we go, God be with you. “At least they stopped, otherwise we won’t eat for another five miles.” “It was nice how the Germans gave us strollers.” When you go, know: it’s important! “And here, brother, the people have gone completely rabid.” Everything there looked as if it were a Pole, everything belonged to the Russian crown; and now, brother, he’s gone completely German. – Songwriters forward! – the captain’s cry was heard. And twenty people ran out from different rows in front of the company. The drummer began to sing and turned his face to the songwriters, and, waving his hand, began a drawn-out soldier’s song, which began: “Isn’t it dawn, the sun has broken...” and ended with the words: “Then, brothers, there will be glory for us and Kamensky’s father...” This song was composed in Turkey and was now sung in Austria, only with the change that in place of “Kamensky’s father” the words were inserted: “Kutuzov’s father.”
