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Three Metropolitans
By Fr Alexander Schmemann / Translated by Fr. Alvian Smirensky
Illustrations by Carol Morris
When I arrived in America in June 1951 to teach at St. Vladimir's Theological Seminary
(having been invited by Vladyka Leonty's predecessor, Metropolitan Theophil), I already
had the experience of having been close to two Parisian Metropolitan-Exarchs, Evlogy and
Vladimir. Thus Vladyka Leonty was to be my third Hierarch and, as a matter of course, at
first I compared him with my Parisian Hierarchs. And now, when all three are no longer
with us, whenever I am celebrating the Divine Liturgy, I unite their names in a joint
commemoration, knowing that each one of them, in different ways, revealed to me that very
essence of the episcopacy, that most difficult and awesome service in the household of
God's Church. This was something which could not be expressed or defined by any dogmatic
descriptions. Since they are so closely linked in my memory, thanksgiving and prayer, I
will begin these brief and fragmentary recollections about Metropolitan Leonty with even
briefer remarks about those who preceded him in my ecclesiastical life.
-2-
I was close to Metropolitan Evlogy, if one can say,
"physically." From the age of twelve I was an acolyte, crozier bearer, ripidion
bearer and subdeacon. I was destined to vest him for the last time during that sad evening
of his passing, in August 1946. I think that only those who had the experience of serving
at the altar and particularly in a large and well-appointed Cathedral, with its large staff and numerous
clerics, with its behind-the scenes details of solemn services, could know how all this
creates a special connection with a Hierarch. There is nothing "administrative"
here, nor is there any "Church business." We, his "Metropolitan's
Staff" only saw him in the Church and then, on Christmas and Easter, in his private
quarters where he received what he called his "guard" and where we were
overwhelmed in his kindness, delightful humor and hospitality. On the one hand he held no
"administrative" authority over us but nonetheless each one of us felt that we
belonged to him, that we were needed and even indispensable participants in his life and
service in their most important expressions. This was that physical, almost a familial
closeness. To this day I remember how each one of his riasas felt, the warmth of his
smallish hand over which, so many times, I placed the cuff. The weight of his corpulent
body when we assisted him in rising from a full prostration. But it is because that
closeness was always at the altar, because everything in it was related to that sacred and
mystical beauty of the Divine Services, it changed more and more into that love and that
joy which for me, defines to this day the essential nature of the Church. I could not, I
firmly believe, have achieved this experience through later and sad exposures to the
pedestrian and consistorial sides of Church life. It is through Metropolitan Evlogy and my
service to him that opened for me that which I perceive to be the basic foundation of the
Orthodox experience: its grandeur, its boundless loftiness, the remoteness, the
awesomeness of everything Divine and at the same time, its immediacy with its joy and
radiance.
Those solemn arrivals, the vesting, the reverences, that constant consciousness of
knowing oneself to be at someone's service, never once, not for a single second, ever
questioning his entitlement to that service. For it is through him and us, the swarms of
acolytes and subdeacons, that somehow the power and beauty of God's Kingdom is revealed.
All this, for me, is forever linked with Metropolitan Evlogy. He unites within himself
the indefinable and the incomprehensible as well as all the grandeur and that Divine
foundation of the Episcopacy and through that, of the Church and at the same time their
nature in their immediacy and love. He had no need to remind himself or anyone else of the
majesty of his office because that majesty being self-evident to him, became self-evident
for all those who encountered him. He did not need to defend his authority because it
calmly and again in a self-evident way flowed from him. He did not need to look for an
artificial familiarity with people because the majesty and the authority in him were
indeed the majesty and the authority of love.
-3-
My Churchly "childhood" and that almost unparalleled understanding of the
Church as paradise which was linked with that childhood, ended with Metropolitan Evlogy's
death. I was one of the first priests to be ordained by Metropolitan Vladimir after his
selection as Exarch, in the Fall of 1946. These were difficult years, marked by
jurisdictional arguments and all kinds of discords. One constantly had to choose, to
defend, to vindicate. And here we were given a Bishop whose methods were radically
different from those of the "Evlogian" times. The quality one felt, most of all,
in our new First Hierarch, was his detachment. I became close to him as editor of the Church
Herald and saw him frequently. The most surprising thing was his indifference to that
which we call "Church business", to the externally administrative matters of
Church life. It would have been inconceivable to imagine for example, that Metropolitan
Evlogy would assign to someone else the drafting of a letter or of an epistle to his
flock. Vladyka Vladimir would hardly pay attention to what was suggested to him as the
text. Having entrusted someone with the assignment he wouldn't be concerned with how his
trust was carried out. "Thank you. God bless you. Excellent, excellent. Just what is
needed." He was hospitable, gentle, attentive, responsive. But, when was in a
personal contact with him there was a feeling that he was not quite here, that his inner
gaze was for some time directed at something else. In contrast to the recent multiplicity in the
Church of "maximalists" who would frighten us with the impending doom and
"apostasies" Vladyka Vladimir never frightened anyone with anything, never
called anyone to any kind of "maximalism" and never would denounce anyone. But
he would literally and simply proclaim, with his appearance and with all his being
"Don't you see? Here it is, 'the better part', the only thing which is important,
desirable, interesting and necessary." He wasn't comfortable with talk about
"spiritual topics" so beloved by other lovers of "things spiritual".
He did not like edifying sermonizing, criticism, and any kind of pseudo-spiritual
"intimacies". Once, when he was being driven back from some Church event, he
became engrossed, with a childlike curiosity, about the production of cognac, wanting to
know how it was made and what was the difference between various brands. It was noticeable
how disturbed he was with any kind of insincerity, from an affected "spiritual"
style, from precisely that pseudo-spirituality which frequently flourishes where there is
no real spirituality. It is because he already chose "the better part" his
relations with the world and with people was simple, almost joyful and clear. In one of my
last meetings with him, when I came from America, he questioned me in some detail about
the kinds of mushrooms that grow there and almost nothing about the Church life there. And
yet, when I relayed the greetings from Metropolitan Leonty he, with that familiar and
characteristic expression as if with a glance towards the heavens, crossed himself and
quickly said: "Tell Vladyka that I always pray for him." One could not doubt
that this wasn't just ordinary churchly rhetoric but a real and a profound truth, that he
truly and always prays for him and only in this way, after all, did he understand
"Church business." As for the mushrooms, it was obvious that this was for him, a
symbol of something familiar and close, something Divine, through which he could discern
in his own heart what to him was that distant, great, unfamiliar "America". This
was his way of understanding it.
Actually, Metropolitan Vladimir came to light during Divine Services. I am convinced
that those who had at least one opportunity to serve with him at the Altar would never be
able to forget it. The word "to serve" is somehow inadequate here if by it one
understands a carrying out of prescribed rites and gestures which have been carried out
millions of times. All this he did precisely and accurately but somehow one never felt
that these were routine. One was left with the impression that all this was an unearthly
lightness, an uninterrupted ascent, a spiritual radiance. Looking at his face, with its
upward gaze and illuminated with an inner light, one couldsee that he was talking with
someone very close to him. If in Metropolitan Evlogy the Church was projected as a family,
as the "flock", in Metropolitan Vladimir it was offered to its source and
purpose, to the "day without evening" of God's Kingdom.
- 4 -
With all this behind me I arrived in America and reported to my new First Hierarch. He
had been elected Metropolitan just a year before my arrival and thus his thirteen years'
service as Metropolitan took place before my eyes. But I am convinced that my first
impression, correctly gave the sense of direction for the future. This was a summer
weekday, shortly after thefeast of the Trinity. When I arrived at the Cathedral there was
a Liturgy at the side chapel. The Church was nearly empty and there were three singers on
the kliros: a deacon, a psaltis and the Metropolitan. He was all in white, white riasa,
white klobuk, with white hair and beard, very tall,standing straight as an arrow. He was
singing the hymn to the Theotokos for Pentecost in his high, clear tenor. I can still hear
that voice singing its arrangement by Turchaninov: "Rejoice O Queen! Glory of all
mothers and virgins. . ." He remains in my memory just as he appeared to me on that
day. This was not the angelic, incarnate spirituality of Metropolitan Vladimir, this was
not the authoritative "fatherhood" of Metropolitan Evlogy. This was one more
example and expression of the Church ? perhaps at first, as a haven and consolation, as an
aid in the challenge of patience, as a support in that voyage along "the sea of life,
surging with the storm of temptation. . ."
Later I learned how many personal, familial and official difficulties were Vladyka
Leonty's lot, how many trials he had to experience in his life, and why in truth, the
Church for him was his first source of consolation and help for bearing the cross of life.
One could feel all this, at thatLiturgy in the empty Church, during that mystical feast
which sanctified the mundane, even for a brief moment, "where there is neither
sickness nor sorrow, nor sighing. . ."
Vladyka Leonty did not lead anyone, he did not build anything, as did Metropolitan
Evlogy who, during the difficult years of the emigration created an exemplary diocese
which was, so to speak, built upon him and which soon after his death began to move into
its slow decline. Nor was he an ascetic or a mystic living in the vision of the Spirit,
delighting in his conversation with God as Metropolitan Vladimir, He was very much down to
earth, very simple, very much "day-to-day." He stood in his place, which he did
not seek and which he accepted as one more cross to bear with endless patience. He stood
and blessed everyone and everything with hislarge, bony, warm hands, never waiting for
great results, rejoicing in small things and was not saddened too much with failures. His
somewhat sad but just a bit mischievous smile would say: "Why are you worried? God
will do everything if it is necessary, and it doesn't really depend on us too much."
He never insisted on anything, he never imposed anything. If he was invited somewhere, he
would go. If he was not invited, he didn't go nor did he ever look for invitations. If he
went somewhere he would always bring a present: some small packet, a book or simply, a
check. Money flowed through his hands and didn't stick to them. We can now recall, with
shame for our Church, that he would help out poorly paid priests, widows and other
clerics, from his own pocket.
In those times of petty self-aggrandizements and questionable "careers" he
was humbly conscious that he was called to the white klobuk by the Revolution, the
destruction and the instability of Church life and because of this he never pridefully
extolled himself. I have never met a person who was so unaffected by the temptation for
power, with so little ability to "relish" the signs of homage which surrounded
him. He felt that his task was first of all to "preserve and pass on". He truly
never thought about himself but only of the Church which God intrusted to him by placing
him in the Metropolitan's office. Someone must occupy that place and so, he stood there
and persevered. He looked upon preservation almost in a quantitative sense: that nothing
be destroyed, that if possible, everyone must be saved - both the weak and the strong, the
good and the bad and the lost. The Lord will judge and sort things out: our task is to
guard, to preserve, to bless and to pray. Any sense of anger, righteous indignation and
wrath was somehow atrophied in him. If something outrageous occurred, he was not outraged.
He would sigh, cross himself and stop the discussion about it as not beneficial. If
someone tried to fool him he would attempt not to notice. Yet he took childlike delight in
anything positive. In contrast to many others he was overjoyed at the arrival of numerous
clerics from Europe after the war: "Our regiment has been augmented - we will be
stronger." He rejoiced with every new temple as a master rejoices with any increase
in capital. As for losses - defections to other "jurisdictions", ingratitude and
even deaths - what is there to say , no household can live without losses. As many of the
older priests, having seen everything in their lives, he was a minimalist towards others,
but not towards himself. He neither expected nor demanded anything from them, nor did he
judge or condemn: everything is God's secret, only He sees and knows everything, he
commanded us not to judge but to be patient and to love. All this was incomprehensible for
the young and the impassioned and they would grumble about his tolerance, his responses to
obvious distortions, his refusal to choose between the correct and the guilty, his failure
to apply the "letter of the law": "Vladyka, but this is against the Ustav,
contrary to the Canons!" But he calmly stood on his own, firmly upholding the whole
Metropolia under his prayerful gaze, without any illusions and constantly prayed to the
Almighty that He would hold back "the ranks of those moving against us." He did
this with joy - as on that Summer morning in an empty Church where he was completely
absorbed by Turchaninov's "Rejoice O Queen. . ."
- 5 -
"Always a wise man, sometimes a dreamer." In the depth of his soul he did
live like a dreamer. One on one, in his study or over a cup of tea, when one could stop
talking about mundane Church matters at least for a while, he would let himself bask in
his dreams, sometimes utopian ones. He had his own special view of the world, his own
themes. He wrote poems, maybe not very good ones, but at heart he was truly a poet. A poet
is first of all, someone who sees the world "in a different way", someone who
has his own secret theme. Vladyka Leonty had such themes ? he did not thrust them on
anyone but always lived by them. Because of this, in spite of the endlessly difficult and
in many respects tragic life, he never sank to the commonplace, never let it absorb him
but lived and soared above it. Even though his poems were at times both naive and trite,
it is worth noting in wonder that in the aridness of life he did not dissipate the ardor
of his soul and, until his last days, looked upon God's world with gratitude, with joy and
tenderness, always trying to transform it according to his own secret melody.
- 6 -
I am sitting with him upstairs, on Second Street. We are drinking tea, discussing one
thing or another. I rise to receive his blessing and be on my way. "What can I
present you with?" - "Vladyka, why talk about presents - this is neither
Christmas nor Easter!" "No, I must give you something, please wait a bit. .
." He rises and goes into his bedroom, he brings out a somewhat old but a good
leather attache case. "Here, you have to travel a lot, take it." I lovingly
treasure that case, with its gold initials, "M.L."
- 7 -
He would respond personally, in his minuscule script, to every greeting whether
official or personal. He would enclose a check, to the Seminary or for "wine for the
Seminary chapel." He had this remarkable concern "over a little". But it is
only through such concern "over a little" that real, vital and unspoken love is
projected. At the end of the Liturgy, as his vestments are being removed, he reaches into
his pocket and brings out three silver fifty cent pieces. "Here, these are for your
children." - "Vladyka, my children are already grown, ready to be married
off," I try to protest. "Well, this will also come in handy for them."
- 8 -
I once received a post card from Vladyka: "I am flying over Texas. I am reading Fr
Bulgakov's Peter and John. I am praying for those who live in Texas." This is
him, in that little post card. It would have been interesting to find out how many people
in that airplane are praying for those over whom they are flying.
- 9 -
I cannot overlook his special love for the theological school and especially for Church
education. How he radiated, how he rejoiced when he blessed the Seminary's new house in
Crestwood. Not a week would go by when he wouldn't send books for the Seminary library or
some kind of a proposal for the "Academic Corporation." He taught Pastoral
Theology for a number of years and when he could no longer come out himself, he would
summon the whole class to the Cathedral. When he "Theologized" this was not some
routine stereotype, quenching the spirit for the sake of the letter. He always wanted to
complete his work on the Prophet Ezekiel and "submit it to the Seminary." He
regretted that his infirmities prevented him from teaching ancient Hebrew. Each time he
received a copy of the Seminary's "Quarterly" he would send back a note with
thanks along with his subscription. He thus subscribed no less than four times a year.
Himself a graduate of the Kiev Theological Academy he valued academic traditions and
embodied them in himself. He defended the broad academic and intellectual horizons of the
former Russian Church and respected creativity and the spiritual freedom of "the
children of God" in contrast to that obscurantism so favored by those self-styled
bearers and defenders of Russian Orthodoxy.
- 10 -
Great Lent, 1964. The special solemn service for all those persecuted for the Orthodox
faith just ended at New York's Greek Cathedral. At the end of the service Metropolitan
Leonty approaches Archbishop Iakovos to thank him on behalf of the Metropolia. Something
extraordinary takes place: the Greek Hierarch, in all his majesty, bows before the Elder
in white, kisses his hand and says, "You have a great soul."
- 11 -
As I end these brief notes, I remembered Metropolitan Leonty's special love for the
Prophet Ezekiel. Opening his book in the Bible at random, my eyes rested on this text:
"He said to me: Mortal, all my words that I shall speak to you receive in your
heart and hear with your ears; then go to the exiles, to your people, and speak to them.
Say to them, "Thus says the Lord God"; whether they hear or refuse to
hear." (Ezekiel III:10-11)
This article first appeared in, The Life and Works of Metropolitan Leonty, NY,
1969, pp. 227-234 (in Russian).
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