An Interview with Archpriest
Alexey Ohotin
During
his formative years, mitred Archpriest Aleksei Ohotin (Dean of the first
deanery of the Eastern American Diocese, rector of the Annunciation Church in
Flushing, and spiritual father for the National Organization of Russian Scouts)
set his sights on the examples of self-abnegation presented by Archbishops
Vitaly (Maximenko) and Nikon (Rklitsky). Serving the flock of the Russian
Orthodox Church Abroad, Fr. Alexei shared their daily hardships; he worked as a
draftsman, a chauffeur and in many other capacities in order to feed his family. On January 18,
2013 Fr. Alexei stepped from his labors into the eternal life. May his memory
be eternal!
When did you first arrive in Jordanville?
Why did you feel that way?
I don’t
know, I just did. So I went with Fr Kiprian and Fr Averky for a couple of days,
arriving for Saturday evening service. I saw a young monk there, already
wearing a monastic mantle. I bowed to him and saw two others walk in, also
wearing mantles, and also young. Some forty people eventually gathered, and the
service was very solemn.
When was this?
This was
in the summer, after July 28. I was still in high school then. Later, visiting
St Tikhon’s, I saw a monk walk out of the kitchen and light a cigarette. And
they said “Today we’re having meat kotleti.” The church didn’t have many people
at service. It just wasn’t my cup of tea. I went home and said that I am going to
Jordanville, no matter what!
I moved
there in 1953, in time for the feast of the Protection of the Mother of God,
when the seminary school year began. That year a Council of Bishops convened.
All the bishops gathered there to see how the establishment of the monastery
was progressing. Fr Panteleimon was already working there in the fifties, and
Fr Joseph was the choir director. After the war ended, the monks from Pochaev
Monastery moved to Jordanville. Fr Panteleimon was very lucky to get the new
workers.
When did you arrive from Europe?
In 1949,
on the feast day of the Protection, we left Bremen. Ships were already carrying
refugees. We left on October 14 and arrived on October 25. Thank God, we made
it safely, because there was a hurricane then. We arrived in Connecticut. There
were eight of us: my father and other, two sisters and three little nieces. We
lived there until 1950, then we moved to Sea Cliff and settled there.
Were you the youngest?
Yes, I
was the youngest. When I finished high school, I went to Jordanville during
that Council meeting, where I met the
bishops. I had remembered Vladyka Anastassy from my time in Yugoslavia.
What memories do you have of Vladyka Averky
and Vladyka Anastassy?
I had
seen Vladyka Anastassy in Yugoslavia, then in America, at the Synod. He was
very weak, fragile, thin, but his mind worked brilliantly.
Did you have the same impression when he
served in church?
Yes. His
subdeacons would hold him up. He would tell them to get away, but they held
onto him.
This was in the 1950’s?
He had
already arrived in the late 1940’s and always lived at the Synod. Later, when I
graduated from Seminary, in 1958, I went home and began to work as a draftsman.
I met my wife during the wedding of my classmate, Fr Boris Kizenko. In 1960 I
was ordained to the diaconate. That is, after I got married in June, I was
ordained, and served under Fr Mitrofan (Znosko-Borovsky) in Sea Cliff. Our
wedding was on July 31st. A week later, Metropolitan Anastassy summoned me and
said “Okay, you’ve had your fun, now you will be ordained” [to the priesthood].
I said:
“It’s only been a week that I am married.” He replied: “But how much time do
you need?”
At the
end of September, Protopriest George Grabbe telephoned me and said that Vladyka
Metropolitan asked to tell me that the following Sunday I would be ordained to
the priesthood and assigned as rector of St Nicholas Church in Poughkeepsie. So
I came, and Vladyka Metropolitan himself ordained me.
Did he treat you like his protégé?
He would
visit and ask how parish life was, what the conditions were, about my
relationship with the parishioners. He asked how I served, and said that the
Lord would bless me, not to worry. He was very busy and could not devote much
time to me, but he immediately made me rector, while new priests are usually
assigned as second or third priests for the first few years.
Did the priestly duties come quickly for you?
Yes,
pretty quickly, although I had a difficult life, because even in Poughkeepsie I
had to work. One person got me a job at IBM, but he was also the reason I asked
to be released from the parish. The problem was that he was a Freemason, and
tried to persuade me to join, that I had to be a member, otherwise I would lose
my house, my job, etc. That very evening I called Vladyka Nikon, who was our
Vicar. He said that a position at a parish in Jackson Heights, NY, was opening,
and I would be transferred there. This was a parish of intellectuals: a
commander of the personal convoy of His Imperial Majesty, he was a member of
the closest security detail of the Tsar. There were counts, princes, generals.
This was closer to my heart, and I felt at home there, where I was to spend
nine years. By the time I left, there were only six people left.
What was the name of the Jackson Heights
parish?
It was dedicated
to St Alexander Nevsky.
Who among the bishops made the greatest
impression upon you?
Vladyka
Vitaly (Maximenko) was the most impressive, he was a monk, as they say, “to the
marrow of his bones.” When I arrived in Jordanville in 1953, the cabbage was
ripe for harvest, and Vladyka Vitaly himself was in the fields collecting it. I
asked “Aren’t you a bishop?” He said that a monk must do manual labor. He was
strict—very strict. He canceled one semester so that the students could finish building
the new gateway. And so once I came upon Vladyka Vitaly and he said “Remember,
Alyosha, that you enrolled in seminary. As long as you are in the monastery,
you are a monk.” And he gave me a cassock, a belt, a skufia and prayer beads.
He explained nothing, just blessed me to wear them. He said “when you finish
seminary, you will make a choice to either stay with us or go into the world.
But until that time, you are a monk, and there is nothing more important than
obedience.” He gave me a few examples, and this stuck in my mind. Anyway, a few
years later I became a cook.
How often did you work in the kitchen?
Every day
except Saturday and Sunday, but before that I worked in the cow barn. I did my
studies, then went to work on my obedience. When I was a cook, and Vladyka
Vitaly was already sick and bedridden in his cell, I would bring him food, but
he refused, saying he would go down to the refectory. All he had in his cell
was a pitcher of water, a glass and his pills. He had a summer cassock and a
winter cassock, and that was all, plus the icons in the corner. There was no
television, no couch, no armchair, really nothing at all. He spent his life
there. He was very severe with himself. He would inspect the other cells and
make sure the monks were at work. If he found a monk lying in bed, he would
poke him with his staff and say “Get up, monk, go to work.” I have to say—I
loved him, but I feared him. Everyone did. But soon thereafter he got sick,
moved to the Bronx, where he died. Vladyka Averky succeeded him. Even back in
1953, he had been ordained a bishop and he became Vladyka Vitaly’s assistant.
Then he
was named Bishop of Holy Trinity Monastery and Syracuse. He was very
intelligent. He was a social monk, very urbane. He taught me homiletics, and
never spoke in the informal, but always addressed me as “Brother Alexei” and
would say “You must remember that the ideal sermon should be no less than five
and no more than seven minutes,” while his sermons were always a half-hour
long, if not longer! He gave very good sermons, on the instructions of the
Apostles, the Gospels. He spoke well and also wrote well. He would visit me at
St Nicholas Church on our feast day. I worked in the Synod in 1962-63,
excerpting newspaper articles, and received a small salary. I also worked as a
chauffeur for Vladyka Anastassy. When I was called to take him somewhere, I
would drive him in a giant Cadillac. I did that until he became too sick to
conduct divine services. The young Vladyka Philaret was chosen to replace him.
Which teachers do you remember?
I
remember them all. Vladyka Averky, who taught the New Testament and homiletics.
Ivan Mikhailovich Andreev taught psychology. The history of the Russian Church
was taught by Nikolai Talberg. Patrology, patristics and pastoral theology was
taught by Archimandrite Konstantin (Zaitsev). It was difficult to understand
him, but he was the spiritual father of many of the seminarians. He was also
the editor of Orthodox Rus. Later, Fr Alexander Kalesnikov joined us, who had
recently immigrated, and taught church law. He had a very strict system. Either
you know something or you don’t. I also studied singing under Fr Joseph. That
was my favorite pastime. My favorite subject was dogmatic theology.
Protopresbyter Michael Pomazansky taught that, plus Greek. He would say
“Alyosha, Greek must be studied for eight years to know it well.” He was a very
interesting teacher.
What about Ivan Mikhailovich?
Oh, he
was very nice, and oh, how interesting he was! He would tell jokes, he would
give all sorts of psychological examples. He would talk about all sorts of
illnesses; the definitions of words like “idiot” and “degenerate.” That was
interesting. He also taught literature.
And Nikolai Dmitrievich Talberg?
He was a
good teacher, very interesting to listen to and then ponder his words.
Who was most loved by the students?
Nikolai
Dmitrievich and Ivan Mikhailovich, but Nikolai Dmitrievich most of all.
When I
enrolled, there were only three of us, Vanya Levinsky, a Serb and me. The Serb
fled after a week. Vanya was taken away by his parents. I was the only one who
stayed, so I can’t speak for the others.
Many left
Fr Konstantin because he was very severe. My spiritual father was Fr Kiprian.
He was a spiritual and straightforward man. He had a very narrow cell. He was a
kind, amusing person, very hot-headed, but he could also ask forgiveness.
Whom do you remember among the bishops and
priests? Are there any stories you can tell?
I didn’t
maintain too many contacts, because I was a working priest. I worked five days
a week, and Saturday and Sunday I served all-night vigil and Liturgy, then back
to work the next day.
Two or
three times I went to a clergy conference for a day, that was all I could
afford to do. I couldn’t get time off work. Other priests had different lives;
their matushkas would work while they tended to church life. But I felt sorry
for my wife—I know from working how you have to endure pranks and difficult
interrelationships and quarrels in the workplace, and I didn’t want to subject
her to that. Vladyka gave me a blessing to have a job, and so unfortunately I
didn’t have much time to socialize with other clergymen.
How can a priest manage with a civil job?
You use
oikonomia. I was once a cab driver. Once I smelled something like burning hay,
and when I dropped off the fare, I realized what they were smoking. Once I had
to drive a drunk man, because cab drivers don’t have the right to refuse a fare
for any reason, so I let him in the cab. Once a fare sat down in the front,
next to me, not in the back. I began to pray, sensing that something was not
right. He suddenly said “Stop!” He threw money at me and ran away; it seemed
that he saw some cops. I had been praying to St Nicholas while driving, and I
think he saved me.
I was a
cab driver, but I also installed fire safety systems, I helped build the Lunar
Explorer Module, for which I got an award. I had to adapt to working during
holidays. I would serve all-night vigil, at least, if I couldn’t get the day
off; that would happen sometimes. I had no other choice.
Do you remember Fr George Grabbe?
He was
well-bred, very reserved. He was the product of a bygone age. One could say
something rude to him, and he would react very calmly. He never once raised his
voice. But try to cross him…
What do remember of Vladyka Nikon?
I
remember Vladyka Anthony of San Francisco. My brother-in-law attended the Cadet
Corps with him. After my brother-in-law was killed by the [communist] Partisans
in Yugoslavia, Vladyka Anthony visited his grave.
I
remember Vladyka John of Shanghai. When Vladyka Anastassy ordained me, he said
“Fr Alexey, come to my diocese in France.” He was a nice, charming man. He
would walk barefoot or in sandals. His hair was always disheveled. He did not
have the appearance of a bishop at all.
I was
working at the Synod at the time they were electing a new metropolitan. Vladyka
Savva had just two weeks earlier asked me to draft the ukase to consecrate Fr
Philaret to the episcopacy.
I
remember another spiritual father, Fr Adrian, later Archbishop Andrei
Rimarenko.
They were
all educated, well-bred, and they were all angels of the Church, princes of the
Church. They cared for their Church, they helped priests. They would administer
Communion, gave counsel when needed. This was their duty…
CONVERSATION