Many people in America
and Russia know Archpriest Victor Potapov. Fr. Victor’s family
found themselves in the United States after the Second World War, arriving from
the German Manchenhof refugee camp, where Fr. Victor was born in 1948. He
worked for thirty years on the radio station, “Voice of America”, conducting religious
programs for Russian Orthodox people. He has been serving for thirty-eight
years as head priest of the St. John the Baptist Cathedral in Washington, D.C
—Fr. Victor, you are Russian, but you grew up in America…
—I grew up in America
in the 1950s. The Cold War was on. Several times a week we were supposed hide
under our desks at school to prepare ourselves for a Soviet attack. We even
knew that at the end of the street there was an anti-missile station. We boys
used to go to the fence and peek in—there was a small military station there,
and that intrigued us.
It wasn’t very
pleasant to be Russian in those years when everyone was continually talking
about the “Soviet threat”. The task of our Russian emigration was to convince
Americans that there is a big difference between Russia and the Soviet
Union. Russia is an Orthodox country, there was a
revolution there, and godless people who persecute Christians and Russians came
into power.
In my childhood
awareness it worked like this: my parents made me speak Russian, go to Saturday
Russian classes at our church, and I didn’t want to. My parents were not very
church-going people; they only went now and then, and on the feasts. The
religious person in my family was my grandmother.
When I was thirteen
or fourteen, my mother once asked me to take my grandmother to church for the
Vigil service. We lived in Cleveland, Ohio. Our church was located in a very
bad, high-crime neighborhood. At that time, the Russian community in Cleveland
could not afford anything else. Later they moved to another area and built a
new church. Grandmother wanted very badly to go to the Vigil but I didn’t want
to go, and there was a scandal. Nevertheless I loved my grandmother and so I
went.
There was hardly
anyone in the church, only the priest, Fr. Michael Smirnov, who would later
play an important role in my life. So I stood there awkwardly, no young people
near, I couldn’t understand the services, in fact I didn’t even speak very good
Russian at the time… But then during the services something in my soul changed.
And though understanding very little with my ears, I suddenly understood with
my soul that these divine services have very deep meaning. It was just one
incident, but it turned everything upside down in me.
I remember: I
returned home, and checked out some books from the Holy Trinity Monastery in Jordanville. God’s church and Church services by Priest
Antonov, The Law of God by Archpriest Seraphim
(Slobodskoy), and others. I began reading—in Russian, although I read poorly in
Russian. I started studying all this, and going to church. I would visit Fr.
Michael at home, and he taught me how to read Church Slavonic.
During summer
vacation I went to camp at the Holy Trinity Monastery in Jordanville, where
there was a program for boys. We lived there for two or three weeks together
with the monks, attended services, and did obediences. We were like young
novices. One seminarian from Australia, from the Chinese emigration,1 Vladimir
Evsiukov, a future archpriest, was my instructor. All of this led me to the
decision to serve in the Church. One service, at which I didn’t even understand
the words, completely changed my life. Can you imagine?
In 1970 I studied at
seminary as a second year student. My mother and I wanted to travel to the
USSR, to our relatives in Krasnodar. I had never been to the USSR before in my
life. But there was some huge world communism convention going on in Moscow and
they refused us visas. They said that there were no rooms at the hotels…
It was summer; I had
to do something with my time, and it was already too late to get a job. So I
decided to use that time to go to Mt. Athos, and then join up with a group of
pilgrims from New York in the Holy Land. This group was headed by the future
Metropolitan Laurus. Then he was Bishop Laurus, rector of the Holy Trinity
Seminary. I went to Mt. Athos, visited the Russian St. Panteleimon Monastery,
the St. Elias Skete, and other monasteries. I met there Archimandrite Abel
(Makedonov), who was the abbot of the St. John the Theologian Monastery near
Ryazan. A remarkable pastor! I was a seminarian in the Russian Church Abroad. I
remember, Fr. Abel told me he was surprised that I related to him with such
great respect. There was enmity at the time [between the Russian Church Abroad
and the Moscow Patriarchate], unfortunately… But they received me with the utmost
hospitality! There were also monks from the Pochaev Lavra and the Pskov Caves Monastery. They invited me to
come and live for a year on Mt. Athos, to learn the rule… And I was taken with
such a yearning for monasticism!
In this state of
mind, after Mt. Athos I went to Jerusalem in order to join Vladyka Laurus’s
group. We traveled to the holy places. In the group there was one pilgrimess
from New York, an elderly woman, who took a great liking to me and we became
friends. She introduced me to a girl.
I met my future
matushka [priest’s wife] at the Lord’s Sepulcher. This was one of the greatest
acquisitions of my life. So, I became an archpriest—you can’t ague with God’s
Providence. Matushka and I have been together for forty-five years. I simply
can’t imagine my pastoral activity without her, because a significant portion
of the charitable work done at our parish is bound up with my matushka. This
all came from the school of Archbishop John of Shanghai, near which my matushka
grew up.
—Fr. Victor, as an American, you never forgot about Russia…
—You know, we feel
for Russia. I grew up in America and am an American citizen. I don’t have a
Russian passport, although I think about it at times. Much has changed in
America for the worse… We always follow what is going on in Russia and feel for
the country—how everyone is against it…
I recall the
prophecies of the elders of the nineteenth century about how Russia will
resurrect, that it will be spiritually very strong, the last stronghold of
Orthodoxy in the world—and I can see that this is happening! And I rejoice that
we are even in some small measure taking part in it! There was a time when I
conducted religious radio programs for Russia, when there were no native ones.
I was just a boy off the street when they handed me a microphone and began that
work. I became—to make a great exaggeration—a radio journalist; although I had
no journalistic education whatsoever. And so I started broadcasting. Thank God,
there were people in the American government who understood that religious
broadcasts at that time could bring even more benefit to the Soviet Union than
political ones.
For thirty years I
had the honor of being before an open microphone, giving catechetical talks,
sermons, interviews with interesting people, explanations of Church feasts and
services. The services in our church were even translated—evening services and
Liturgy… Now in Russia there are “Spas”, “Radonezh”, and “Soyuz” [media
channels]. I used to say that the time would come when my programs would no
longer be needed. And that time, thank God, has come—even during my lifetime.
This is a great mercy of God.
Now these broadcasts
are not being done, but we do have a full-blooded parish life…
—How does your parish live?
—We have five priests
and four deacons. Our parish is mainly Russian, sixty-seventy percent. There
are Americans, Serbs, Romanians, even Chinese… They came to know Orthodoxy, and
love the Russian spiritual traditions. Out of the thirty-eight years that I have
served here, for twenty years we have served parallel Slavonic and English
services. After services everyone goes to trapeza. We have a breakfast made and
organized by the parishioners. There are both Russian and English language
Sunday schools. There are also common services. Our official language is
Russian. We publish a monthly magazine in Russian, which is translated into
English for those who do not know Russian. We try not to forget anyone in our
pastoral care.
We have two church
choirs that practice regularly and take it seriously. There is a talented group
called “Matryeshki”—boys and girls who get together every Friday and rehearse
Russian folk dances, and give concerts. But perhaps the main thing that this
does is to give us an excuse to get together. They live like one big family,
get acquainted and make friends.
We have a scout
movement. Our scout group meets here at the parish every other Saturday. This
year we marked the fiftieth anniversary of our group, which is named after the
ancient Russian city of Putivl. They also live like one big family, with common
interests. Every summer they go camping with tents and build a chapel with
their own hands. One of us comes to serve Divine Liturgy and evening services,
and have talks with the kids. We priests also live in tents while we’re there.
We take as much care as we can to uphold our scout tradition—it was alive even
in the emigration. Thank God, after the fall of the Soviet Union our scout
organization was able to pass on and return that tradition to Russia, and now
scout movements are growing in Russia.
We have around 500
families in our parish. Membership in the parish is determined by membership
fees paid—thirty-five dollars per month. Students and retired persons pay
fifteen dollars. This is a small membership fee, but it gives us the
possibility to see who is really a member of the parish. They have the right to
be present and vote at the annual meetings, choose members of the church
council, make suggestions, and express their concerns. The church rector is the
president.
Now we have fifteen
members of the parish council. We gather once a month to discuss current
affairs in the life of the parish, along with maintenance and administrative
matters.
We have very active
charity work.
In November a member
of our Haitian mission died unexpectedly—the remarkable priest Fr. Gregory
Legute. He was the heart and soul of our mission. He was fifty-three years old.
On Haiti there are five parishes of the Russian Church Abroad and 7000
faithful. These are all Haitians. They are very poor, can barely feed
themselves, and are entirely dependent upon charity received from parishes of
the Russian Church Abroad. We conducted a plate offering to support his
matushka, because Fr. Gregory and his matushka supported a school where 130
Orthodox children studied. We were able to collect a fairly sizable amount.
Other parishes also collected.
A significant sum was
collected by our parishioners for a family in St. Petersburg. They have a
wonderful daughter named Nadezhda who at age six was diagnosed with brain
cancer. The tumor was removed in Russia but she went blind—during the operation
an optic nerve was damaged. She was brought here to America, and she is now
nine years old. Her father cannot work because he has no emigration papers, and
the parents are making every sacrifice to help their daughter.
We have also
collected a significant sum for the “Kindness” (Dobrota) fund in Donetsk, which
helps children who were wounded during the civil war.
We work very closely
with the Russian embassy; they let us celebrate Cheesefare week in their
quarters, in the great Gold Room. The entire net profit from this
evening—usually about 40,000 dollars—goes to our charitable fund, and we
delegate these funds as we see fit throughout the year.
In January during the
fast-free period we have our annual Tatiana ball organized by our youth. The
entire net profits from the ball also go to the charitable fund of the St. John
the Baptist Cathedral in order to help needy youth.
Right now in my home
is living a homeless family from Uzbekistan, who came to us in search of help.
We couldn’t turn them away, and we help them however we can. And there are
quite a few of such people.
—Fr. Victor, by God’s mercy I had the great fortune of being in
your cathedral on the very day when the miraculous Kursk Root icon of the
Mother of God was here.
—Yes, his Grace
Bishop Nicholai (Olkhovsky) of Manhattan, the guardian of the miraculous Kursk
Root icon of the Mother of God, according to the tradition bring this great
Russian holy icon in November, after the American national holiday of
Thanksgiving. The cathedral parishioners reverently prepare themselves to meet
the miraculous icon long before its arrival, adorning the analogion and
iconostasis with flowers. News of the icon’s imminent arrival is spread in a
timely manner to all the Orthodox communities in the city, so that a larger
number of the faithful might have the opportunity to pray before the ancient
shrine.
—Allow me to remind our readers of this icon’s history.
According to tradition, the icon was found
on the day of the Nativity of the Most Holy Theotokos in a forest not far from Kursk,
which had just been burned down by the Tatars in 1295. On that place where the
icon revealed itself a spring welled up. The hunter who found the icon built a
chapel for it, but the Tatars burned down that chapel, and hacked the icon in
half. The miraculous icon grew back together in the hands of priest Bogoliub.
It remained in a monastery built on the
site of the chapel—the Root Hermitage. From this came the name, Kursk-Root. The
Most Holy Theotokos through her miraculous icon blessed many Russian people,
comforting them in sickness and sorrows. In 1767 a seriously ill boy from Kursk
was healed through the icon—this was the future luminary of the Russian land,
St. Seraphim of Sarov.
In 1920 the miraculous icon left Russia
during the retreat of the White Army from Crimea. The road to America was
long—through Serbia and Bavaria. In 1966, St. John of Shanghai blessedly
reposed during prayers before this icon in his cell.
Why did the icon leave Russia? Do not be
concerned, my dear readers! The holy fathers usually say that holy shrines like
this miraculous icon are not moved from their place without the special will of
the Most Holy Mother of God.
The “White” exodus from Crimea was nearly
150 thousand Russian Orthodox people, and the Mother of God deigned to grant
them her miraculous icon for a consolation in exile.
Bishop Nicholai said that no other icon
traveled so long and far as the Kursk Root icon. Moreover it visited not only
churches but also hospital wards and houses where there were seriously ill
people. “And this can also be considered a great miracle: the Mother of God
goes where she wants,” noted Bishop Nicholai.
March 21 is the commemoration date of when
the icon was saved from malefactors who attempted to blow it up in the Kursk
Cathedral of the Sign in 1898.
—Fr. Victor, do miraculous healings occur from the icon in our day?
—You know, when I
served at my first parish in the town of Stratford, Connecticut, 1975 (I was
ordained in 1974), the Kursk-Root icon came to us. After services in our church
I took the icon to the neighboring city, to the Church of the Holy Spirit. There
we served a moleben with an Akathist.
I noticed that one
young man stood the whole time there, covered with tears and on his knees. He
was praying very hard. After the service he came up to me and told me that his
little son had some very rare disease—the skin on his neck hung in folds like
on an elephant. It was horrible to see. He pressed his son to the
miracle-working icon.
I said, “It’s good
that you came. Have faith that the Most Holy Theotokos will intercede for your
son!”
A few days later he
returned to the church with his son—this time to request a moleben of
thanksgiving. They went to yet another meeting with the doctor, who with great
amazement discovered that the sick boy had begun to recover. Many years later I
learned that this boy had grown up and gotten married.
Archpriest Vladimir
Danilievich knew one Jewish family. Their seven-year-old boy had been diagnosed
with cancer. It was just as the miracle-working icon was due to arrive. The
family was already inclined towards becoming Christian, but none of them had
yet been baptized. They brought the boy who venerated the icon—and was healed.
They were so grateful; this made such an impression! The entire family was
baptized right away and soon became very active parishioners.
My matushka’s elder
sister, Alexandra, was very sick with polio as a child in Belgrad. She could
not swallow or take food. The child was having a crisis in the disease’s
development. They invited the Kursk-Root icon and prayed before it. The priest
gave Alexandra Communion—it was the first time in several days when she could
swallow the Communion—and after that she was able to take food and was finally
healed.
—Do you still visit the sick in your parish with the icon?
—Yes, one of the days
that that icon was with us was specially dedicated to visiting the sick and
elderly parishioners who were deprived of the possibility of coming to the
church. The icon visited nine people living in Washington, D.C., Maryland, and
Virginia.
Especially memorable
was the visit to the bedridden Stephan Petrovich Sudakov. I had given him
Communion not long before this and felt that he was about to depart this life.
I promised to bring the icon to him. He lived in Virginia, a long drive… I was
in a hurry—a priest from the Romanian parish was waiting for me to bring the
icon to the Vespers service in their church. We were driving too long, traffic
jams everywhere, and I was going to be late. I was also very tired, barely on
my feet. I even thought of giving up on my intention but matushka talked me out
of it: “Let’s go,” she said, “Let’s try, what if he dies? After all, you
promised him…” I called the priest and warned him that I would probably be late
with the icon. He answered, “No problem, there is still time.”
We were in time to
console Stephan Petrovich with this icon and give him Communion. He was still
alive and conscious. A few hours later he gave his soul to God. He had a great
love and veneration for this icon, and here at the last moment of his life his
final emotion was joy from his beloved icon. The Most Holy Theotokos led this
good man and parishioner of our church on his final journey to her Divine Son!
For me this was such a consolation, as it was also for his wife… And I was only
a half hour late for the Vespers service.
I was visiting one
American with the miraculous icon last year. He is a well-known lawyer who
suffers from cancer. When I arrived at his home he was dying. This year I
expected to come to dying man. But he opened the door, fresh as a daisy. They
believe that the Mother of God healed him. He is in complete remission and
intends to return to his law practice.
Bishop Nicholai
agreed once on the road home to New York to stop in Baltimore to visit the
nine-year-old girl, Nadya, who suffers from brain cancer.
Every year the
Kursk-Root icon also goes to Russia, travels to different dioceses, to Kursk,
Ekaterinburg, and other cities… The icon is accompanied by its guardian, Bishop
Nicholai.
—Thank you dear Fr. Victor for your wonderful talk!
—You know, the Optina
elder Ilie once came to visit us. Someone brought to us an old, nineteenth
century icon of the “Unexpected Joy”. I made a little call after Vigil service:
well, you see, someone is offering to sell us this icon. But Fr. Ilie called me
over and said, “No need, no need! It’s yours!” And he bought it for our parish!
He gave the money for it and now we have an icon that is, basically, from him.
So, please give our regards to Optina Monastery.
May God preserve you!
Source: http://orthochristian.com/91790.html
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