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METROPOLITAN ANTHONY OF SOUROZH (1914-2003)
This obituary by Andrew Walker, originally published in THE INDEPENDENT on 9 August 2003, is reprinted here with their kind permission.
Metropolitan Anthony of Sourozh, the senior bishop in the Russian Orthodox Patriarchal Church and the head of the Russian Church in Great Britain and Ireland was the single most influential voice of the Orthodox tradition in the British Isles.
A charismatic figure, with a palpable spiritual presence, he was cast more in the mould of a Staretz (a holy man of great insight and wisdom) than a career bishop responsible for the administration and pastoral oversight of a diocese. With his striking dark looks and beautifully spoken English – reprised through a French rather than a Russian accent – he would hold an audience in the palm of his hand. His gifts of communication were legendary: he never used notes or prompts, and whether he was preaching in the Russian Cathedral at Ennismore Gardens in London, giving a lecture on the Orthodox tradition at a conference, discussing Christianity with a group of students, or giving spiritual direction to an individual, he always radiated a sense of personal depth and boundless faith.
He could also be disarming. His conversation on BBC television in 1970 with the atheist Marghanita Laski would have been memorable enough for his respect of her intellectual integrity, and his undeniable charm. But it was the more remarkable for his wit, intellectual toughness, and his unconventional arguments. Instead of trying to justify his faith, for example, he told Laski that he knew‑that God existed, and was puzzled how she managed not to know, This unexpected turn in the conversation was typical of him and it threw her off her guard.
The hallmarks of his ministry throughout his fifty years in Great Britain, were pastoral sensitivity, penetrating insight as a spiritual director, and an eirenic missionary outlook. He took the view that everyone was welcome in the Church – Russian, African or indigenous Briton. And, while he was congenitally opposed to proselytising, he attracted hundreds of English converts over the years. More significantly he indelibly stamped the spirituality and theology of the Orthodox tradition upon British religious consciousness, influencing many thousands of British lives through personal contacts, and his writings, chiefly on prayer. At the height of his fame Gerald Priestland, the renowned BBC religious correspondent, called him ‘the single most powerful Christian voice in the land’.
Metropolitan Anthony had strong aversions and predilections. Despite making a significant contribution to the World Council of Churches at Delhi in 1961 he was allergic to institutional ecumenism. And while he deeply respected individual Catholics he was less than enthusiastic about Roman Catholicism. Conversely he warmed to Evangelical religion. In the early 1980s he requested a meeting with the Evangelical Alliance, and on arrival stunned them right from the start by, in the argot of Evangelicalism, ‘giving his personal testimony.’ He told them that when he was a young teenager living in France, and a convinced atheist, he was reading St Mark’s Gospel in his room when he was aware of a personal presence which he was convinced was Christ
This dramatic story of conversion highlights Metropolitan Anthony’s existential approach to faith. He said in a published interview in 1988, ‘I don’t know anything of metaphysical language. What we [the Orthodox] say about Christ is experiential.’ While many labelled him as a mystic, he eschewed this designation, and preferred to talk of Christianity in the language of ascesis and disclosure. He genuinely believed that Eastern Orthodoxy was the simplest way to faith. The combination of simplicity in his personal life (he was completely indifferent to money and ecclesiastical haute couture) and his passionate commitment to the Gospel were the inner springs of his spirituality. He once said that he had never preached Russian Orthodoxy in his life, but only Christ
This Christian for all Christians was nevertheless strongly attached to Russia. During the Soviet era, his BBC Radio talks, and his books and sermons, penetrated deep into Russian culture and were proudly accepted as the authentic voice of ‘Holy Russia’. When he visited the Soviet Union in person, he was overwhelmed by excited crowds eager to hear his words and just to see him. Metropolitan Anthony’s stature among the people of Soviet Russia was enhanced by the fact that he remained loyal to the Patriarchate but maintained total political independence. This unique position of a see in the Russian Diaspora was the lynchpin of the Metropolitan’s realpolitik throughout the Soviet years.
The end of the Soviet empire in the early 199os opened a new chapter in his relationship to Russia: with the easing of travel restrictions by President Boris Yeltsin, an influx of émigrés found their way to his door. He welcomed them with open arms and devoted the last few years of his life to trying to facilitate these post-Soviet Russians into the diocese as best he could.
One of Metropolitan Anthony’s favourite quotations was Nietzsche’s aphorism that chaos gives birth to a star It could stand as a summary of his own life. He was born André Bloom at Lausanne in Switzerland in 1914. His father was a Russian imperial diplomat of Dutch extraction, and his mother was the half-sister of the modernist composer Alexander Scriabin (and also related to Vyacheslav Molotov). While the young André admired his father, they were not really close. His mother, on the other hand, was the dominant influence in his life until her death when he was forty years of age and already well established in Britain.
The young André missed the cataclysmic events of 1917 for at that time he was living with his parents in Persia. After sundry adventures and hardships they ended up living in Paris. His experiences as refugee were mainly negative: his parents were living separate lives and he was the victim of bullying at school. After his dramatic conversion it was not to the priesthood he first turned, but to medicine. He trained initially at the Sorbonne and then in the French Medical Corps with the outbreak of war.
During the German occupation he worked as a doctor, but joined the Resistance. He took secret monastic vows and was first professed as a monk in 1943, when he adopted the name of Anthony after the founder of monasticism. And then, quite unexpectedly, he was ordained priest in 1948 and came to Britain to pastor the predominantly White Russian émigrés in London. His rise through the ecclesiastical ranks was meteoric. He became a bishop in 1957, archbishop in 1962 and the Patriarch of Moscow's Exarch of Western Europe in 1963; and in 1966 was elevated to Metropolitan - the highest‑ranking bishop in the Russian tradition outside the office of Patriarch.
But like most people of genuine charisma, Metropolitan Anthony was a powerful and perplexing figure. Conservative in theology and politics, he was nevertheless totally free of sexism even to the point of daring to question the theological warrant for an exclusively male priesthood. A personalist through and through, he was an inspired visionary but had a poor grasp of administrative detail and diocesan strategy. He liked to be in control but ideologically was deeply committed to lay participation in the Church and always talked of hierarchy in terms of service rather than power. He put his money where his mouth was too, and set up a democratically elected Assembly and Council to run the affairs of the diocese of Sourozh in Britain which, in concert with him it has done so until the present time.
Charismatic leaders, however, whether saints or savants, grow old, and inevitably judgement falters as health and vigour fade. Towards the end of his life Metropolitan Anthony simply had more on his plate than he could manage and people expected too much of him. But one thing remains clear: he once said that no one could turn towards eternity if he has not seen in the eyes or in the face of at least one person the shining of eternal life. Metropolitan Anthony was not infallible despite what the hagiographers will say, but he shone.
André Borisovich Bloom, born Lausanne, Switzerland 19 June 1914; clothed a monk 1943, taking the name Anthony; ordained priest 194; Priest, Russian Orthodox Church in Paris 1948; Chaplain to Fellowship of St Alban and St Sergius, London 1948‑50; Vicar, Russian Orthodox Parish in London 1950‑2003; appointed hegumen 1953, archimandrite 1956; Bishop of Sergievo 1957‑62; Archbishop of Sourozh and Head of the Russian Orthodox Patriarchal Church in Great Britain and Ireland 1962‑2003; Metropolitan of Sourozh 1966‑2003; Exarch of the Patriarch of Moscow and All Russia in Western Europe 1963‑74;. died London 4 August 2003.
A Brief Biography by Alena Maidonovitch in consultation with Fr John Lee Metropolitan Anthony of Sourozh (Andrej Borisovich Bloom) was born on June the 19th, 1914, in Lausanne. His father and his maternal grandfather were in diplomatic service of Imperial Russia. His father’s ancestors originated from Scotland and established in Russia during the reign of Peter the Great. His mother was the half-sister of the Russian composer Alexander Scriabine. The early years of childhood Andrej spend in Persia where his father was appointed Consul. After the Russian revolution (1917) the family found itself in emigration and after several years of wandering through Europe established in Paris. The Russian émigrés’ life was hard and destitute but the young generation was brought up with an acute longing for the lost Motherland, a hope that one day it will be possible to return there and serve it. Andrej grew without any religious education but one day he had to attend a talk that a Russian theologian gave to teenagers. He was indeed a great man but did not know how to speak to this particular audience. Metropolitan Anthony later recollected:
He spoke of Christ, about the Gospels, and Christianity... he spoke to us … concentrating on what was sweetest in the Gospels, which was exactly what we would shy away from: meekness, humility, quietness, all the qualities of servitude, which we are rebuked for, from Nietzsche onwards. He brought me to such a state that afterwards I decided not to return to the volleyball court for a game, in spite of the fact that this was my life's passion, but to go home and see if we had a New Testament somewhere in the house, so that I could check this and be done with it. It never even occurred to me that this would not be the end of it, because it was absolutely obvious that he knew what he was doing, and that meant that it was so. So I asked my mother for a New Testament, which she did have, and I tucked myself away in my corner, looked at the book and found that there were four Gospels, and as there were four of them one of the four must be shorter than the others. As I did not expect any good to come from any of the four, I decided to read the shortest one. And there I fell into a trap — as I was to discover many times in the future how cunning God is when He casts His nets in order to catch a fish — because had I read a different Gospel I would have had difficulties. Each Gospel has a certain cultural foundation: Mark, however, wrote exactly for young savages like me — for Roman youngsters. I did not know this — but God knew it and maybe Mark knew it when he wrote more briefly than the others. So I sat down to read. And at this point you will have to trust my word because this cannot be proved... I was sitting and reading, and between the beginning of the first and the beginning of the third chapter of the Gospel according to St Mark, which I was reading slowly, because the language was unfamiliar to me, I suddenly felt that there, at the other side of the table, stood Christ. This feeling was so intense that I had to stop reading and look. I looked for a long time and I did not see anything, did not hear anything. But even when I looked straight ahead of me at the place where there was nobody to be seen, I still had the same vivid sense that Christ was without any doubt standing there. I remember that at that point I leant back and thought: if the living Christ is standing here — it means that it is the risen Christ. It means that I know personally and for certain, within the limits of my own, personal experience, that Christ has risen and that means that everything that is said about Him is true.
This encounter determined all his subsequent life, not the outer events but its content:
From my very early years, as soon as I, as a fourteen year old boy, read the Gospels, I felt that there could be no other aim in life except sharing with others that life-transforming joy which had been granted to me in coming to know God and Christ. Then, when still an adolescent, I began to speak about Christ, whether it was appropriate or not — at school, in the Metro, and in our youth camps — how He had revealed Himself to me, as life, as joy, as meaning, as something so totally new that all was renewed. If it had not been inadmissible to apply to myself the words of Holy Scripture, I could have said together with the Apostle Paul: 'Woe to me, if I preach not the Gospel' (1 Cor 9:16). Woe, because not to share this miracle with those people all over the world who are even now longing — longing for the living Word about God, about Man, about life — would have been a crime before God who had created this miracle .
After the lyceum, Andrej took biology and medicine in the Sorbonne. In the meantime he became a parishioner, then a server of the church of the Three Holy Fathers (Paris, Moscow Patriarchate). He qualified as a doctor in 1939, on the eve of German invasion. He was an army surgeon, and then worked for the Resistance in Paris. Before joining the army, he secretly pronounced religious vows; he was tonsured in 1943. After the war Dr Bloom continued to practice medicine, but in 1948 was called to become a priest and was send to London as a chaplain to the Fellowship of St Alban and St Sergius. In 1950 he became priest to the Russian Orthodox parish of St Philip. In 1956 the parish had to give up St Philip but was offered the All Saints cathedral in Ennismore Gardens, where father (then Bishop, Archbishop, finally Metropolitan) Anthony served till his death. He was promoted hegumen in 1953, archimandrite in 1956. In 1957 he was consecrated suffragant bishop to the then Exarche of the Patriarch of Moscow in Western Europe, Metropolitan Nicholas (Eremine). In 1962 the Sourozh diocese was created of which bishop Anthony became head, in 1966 he was made Metropolitan and became himself Exarche. He traveled a lot throughout Britain and Europe preaching and giving talks wherever he was invited, his reputation as an outstanding speaker was established from the very first times when he mastered English (which he didn’t know when he came to Britain). He was also a well-known radio- and tele- person both on the English-speaking BBC and on its Foreign service which broadcasted his preaching and sermons from his cathedral to Russia in the years when churches were closing in Russia and preaching of faith prohibited. MA resigned from being Exarche in 1974 for reasons of health and concentrated on work in his own diocese which grew during the years. From a small group of ageing Russian people his flock became multinational and of various ages. Parishes appeared in different parts of Britain with priests mostly converts from other Christian denominations, although it took several years to be accepted into Orthodoxy: metropolitan Anthony never was in favor of proselytism, neither did he encourage people to change lightly the faith they were born in. The services were conducted both in Church-Slavonic and in English. There was a Sunday school for children, a summer camp for teenagers, series of talks for adults and different other activities. Besides the Orthodox congregation a lot of people from all denominations (or from no faith at all) asked Metropolitan Anthony for a meeting, a personal talk about their particular vital questions. He also contributed to Ecumenical work and inter-Churches relations. In 1968-1975 MA was a member of the Central Committee of the WCC.
In 1981 Dr Robert Runcie, then Archbishop of Canterbury said: "People who live in this country — Christians, doubters and unbelievers — owe an immense spiritual debt to Metropolitan Anthony. He represents the great Orthodox tradition, and particularly its Russian faith. "These are days when Christians in the West are tempted to be mentally restless, and eager to express their social relevance. The Russian Church has a steady sense of the eternal truth that cannot be shaken. Its liturgy does not put before us ideas. It puts us in touch with God. Especially in his broadcasts, Metropolitan Anthony communicates the Christian faith with a directness which inspires the believer and challenges the enquirer. "As well as being a personal friend of successive Archbishops of Canterbury, he has worked untiringly for closer understanding between Christians of the East and West, and brought the writings of the Orthodox mystics, particularly those of Holy Russia, to readers in this country. "Metropolitan Anthony is a Christian leader respected far beyond his own congregation". In 1974 The Aberdeen University awarded MA D.D. honoris causa “for preaching the word of God and renewal of spiritual life in that country”. Later on he received the same degree from the Moscow Theological Academy (1983), Cambridge University (1996) and Kiev Theological Academy (1999). He also received many awards from different Churches as well Orthodox as Anglican and others.
Here is a testimony by Fr. John Lee about his last days on earth. He was diagnosed with cancer of the bladder in February 2003 – after some months of blood-stained urine for which he stubbornly refused to consult anyone. He listed me as his next-of-kin so I went with him to see the consultant. After his operation, at the first meeting the doctor was very optimistic. But Vladyka Anthony said that the doctor was wrong and proceeded to tell me his dream. His grandmother appeared to him. She looked very solemn and was holding a calendar and began to turn the pages, saying nothing. February and the next months went by very fast. Coming to July, the pages turned more slowly and finally they stopped on August 4th. In real life Bishop Anthony underwent a long treatment (radio and chemotherapy). However, the treatment was unsuccessful and on July 23rd he had to be taken to Trinity Hospice. MA died in the afternoon of 4th August 2003.
Characteristic for MA is that he never wrote anything. He spoke addressing his audience as if each person was unique and most dear to him, not as it he was facing anonymous crowds. Beginning from the sixties his sermons and talks were often recorded, and then transcribed on paper. Several books appeared: Living Prayer (1966), School for Prayer (1971), God and Man (1971), Meditation on a theme (1971). They are still being reprinted and became classics. They were translated in many languages, ‘samyzdat’ translations circulated secretly in Russia before it became possible (after 1988) to publish them officially. Metropolitan Anthony certainly played a great role in the spiritual reviving of Russia in the last decades. His preaching is centered on Christ, on His Gospel, on God’s love for mankind. His own spiritual experience which he not only treasures, but has a gift to share with others is a very personal relationship with God, Love incarnate. An encounter where man is a free and responsible participant. Metropolitan Anthony often pointed that he is not a theologian, has never been to a theological school. But his whole being and preaching makes one think of a dictum of the early fathers: a theologian is a man whose prayer is pure, a man who knows God Himself.
| Metropolitan Anthony of Sourozh writes:
‘The Church in the third millennium’ - from an interview with Alena Maidonovich, published in Ruskaya Mysl’ on 8 June 2000.
I have a vivid impression, and at the same time a rather dark feeling, that upon entering into the third millennium we enter an obscure, complex and to some extent uninviting time. As to Church life, the faith should stay whole, but we should not be afraid to think freely and speak freely.
This will all find its proper place at some stage, but if we simply endlessly repeated what has already been said, many years ago, then more and more people would fall away from faith (I think this about the world in general, not just Russia). This would not happen because what was said before is not true, but because we would not use the same language or the same approach today. Different times, different people - we think in a different way.
And it seems to me we should root ourselves in God and should not be afraid to think and feel freely. By 'freely' I do not mean freedom of thought and disdain for the past and the tradition, but God does not want slaves. ‘I no longer call you servants... I have called you friends‘ (John 15:15) I believe this is terribly important: we should be able to think and share with Him. There are so very many things we could share with Him in the new world we live in. To think freely is wonderful and important: not to try to adapt - it is important that thinking people with open minds should think and write.
The Church (I am speaking about the clergy and those people who consider themselves educated laity) is often afraid of doing something wrong. After all the years when people were deprived of the opportunity to think and speak to each other freely and to move beyond, so to speak, the 19th century, there is still a lot of fear, and the desire to repeat only accepted things, to repeat only what has already become, as it were, the language of the Church and the thought of the Church. Sooner or later this ought to change.
It seems to me the Church is now undergoing a period when, on the one hand, it tries to be extremely traditional and on the other, people are not only unprepared for this but some of them start thinking – and they are not being helped in this. (I am speaking in general and not about particular individuals.) Are we missing the moment, the opportunity given to us to grow from a church organisation into the Church?
Personally, I have now arrived at the realisation that I will never become a scholar or a theologian. I cannot now improve my theological education and can speak only about what has grown in my soul. If this would seem unacceptable to many in its form, it might not be unacceptable in its essence. I believe I am not departing from the spirit of the Church, from the spirit of the Holy Fathers in the essentials, but I am using a different language to speak to a different people. I think the same was said about many Fathers, too. Not to mention Cyril of Alexandria, many Fathers of the Church were accused of ‘innovaton’ or ‘fantasy’ - not in those very words for they did not exist then, but in a similar way. I think the Church is now in the midst of a prolongued crisis.
When Soviet Russia came to an end, I wrote to the Patriarch: ‘Don’t expect rapid changes in people’s mentality’. We now witness the same situation as when the Jews left Egypt. They became free, but freedom was not welcome. People kept saying: ‘Why did we leave? Where are the pots full of meat and other good food? There is only sand around here, and what we can catch ourselves.’ This is one thing.
And another thing: the distance between Egypt and the Promised Land could have been covered in several days, maybe a week. They were wandering for 40 years – why? Because God made them wander until the generation who grew up in slavery had died and the new generation could grow up who were brought up in freedom and in the wilderness, where they had their faith in God and nothing else. Indeed they were brought to Sinai on the way and received Ten Commandments, but the whole generation of slaves had to disappear.
I think the same applies to the Church. It is certainly quite terrifying to start thinking and start posing questions now, after all these years when the Church could continue to exist only through exceptional loyalty to all the outward forms. It is striking that all the Fathers of the ancient Church did was to pose questions. If they gave answers, this happened precisely because they themselves asked the questions. The answers to unasked questions did not fall from the sky. And these questions were addressed to people surrounded by a pagan culture, by an alien experience and an alien perception of the world. This is what we should take into account. No one lives today in a Christian country. There are heroes of spirit, and people true to the Gospel and so on, but one does not speak about the whole countries being Christian or not. In the same way it would be wrong to speak about ‘Russian’ Orthodoxy.
For example, here [in London] a whole group of people (not very numerous) at the moment accuses me of not being loyal to 'Russian Orthodoxy', of not building a Russian Church… But from the very start I always said that we were building the Church as close as possible to the original ancient Church, when people who had nothing at all in common were united only by Christ and their faith. Slaves and lords, people of all languages, stood next to each other. This was my goal here: to bring together all sorts of people, who could say that they had one thing in common, the Lord.
This is the solution of the problem, I think. If we start talking about Russian, Greek or any other Orthodoxy, we lose people, and not just in the parishes. Already more than 40 years ago I spoke to Bishop Jacob of Apamea, a very good priest and a good man. He told me that they were losing about 150 young people a year because they were not very interested in the Greek language. I asked ‘Why not send them to us?’ – ‘No, we prefer them to leave the Church rather than go to a “foreign” Church’… This is precisely what I have been and will be fighting against. We need faithful people, people who have met God. And I am not speaking in grandiose terms - not everyone can be an Apostle Paul - but about people who can even in a small measure say: ‘I know Him!’ So each of these people knows something similar and we can all stand together even though we have different customs. Customs themselves are not transformed overnight.
I would like to be able to carry on with my Russian talks for another year, and revisit certain essential things. There might be aspects in those essential things, which would not be sympathetically received … Fr Georgii Florovsky once told me: ‘You know, there is not one Father in whose teaching one cannot find heresy, except St. Gregory the Theologian, who was so cautious that had never said anything out of line…’ So in all of their teachings something can be found. But where you find this, take what is said and what you consider wrong, think about it and say something of your own - not necessarily something critical, but something you say on the basis of what you have heard: ‘I have had these thoughts and let us see how they compliment or correct the other…’
I believe it is very important now to think and share our thoughts; even risking getting it wrong, for in the future someone else will correct us, that is all. I remember how I was confused when Nicholas Zernov told me fifty years ago: ‘All the tragedy of the Church started with the Ecumenical Councils, when issues which should have been left flexible were canonised’. Now I think he was right, but at the time I was horrified. This does not mean that the Ecumenical Councils were wrong, but that they were expressing the point they had arrived at... And since then the theologians also have achieved certain things… For example, Fr Sergii Bulgakov was considered a heretic but is now looked at by many in a different light. There are things that are unacceptable and things that are quite the opposite…
| Metropolitan Anthony as Shepherd Talk given by Bishop Basil of Sergievo at a conference to celebrate the life and legacy of Metropolitan Anthony, Paris, November 2005.
Your Eminence, brothers and sisters, it is both a pleasure and an honour to have been invited to speak to you this afternoon about the pastoral work of Metropolitan Anthony in the context of the celebration of the 75th anniversary of the establishment of the Podvorie of the Three Holy Doctors. This event took place at almost the same time that Metropolitan Anthony experienced the presence of Christ in his life in way that marked him forever, and led ultimately to his being one of the most outstanding figures of the Russian diaspora of the 20th century and the founder and first bishop of the Diocese of Sourozh.
I have been asked to speak on ‘The Spirit of the Pastoral Work of Metropolitan Anthony’. This is a fascinating subject, and one that could be developed in several different directions. This afternoon, however, I shall be concentrating on only one aspect, the one that I consider will have the most lasting effect in the Diocese of Sourozh – and perhaps in the wider context of Orthodoxy in Western Europe.
Pastoral work is the work of a pastor, a shepherd. Each bishop is a shepherd of his flock, the diocese that has been entrusted to him. One mark of the respect that Metropolitan Anthony enjoyed within the Patriarchate of Moscow is the fact that the Holy Synod was willing to create a diocese for him in Great Britain in 1962, within the framework of the West European Exarchate, when there were only a handful of clergy there and a relatively small flock. In 1963, with the retirement of Metropolitan Nikolai (Eremin), Metropolitan Anthony was put in charge of the Exarchate, a position he held until 1974, when he resigned after the expulsion of Solzhenitsin from the Soviet Union. The official reason given for his resignation was his desire to devote himself entirely to his flock in Great Britain. It is probably no coincidence that in the following year Metropolitan Anthony convened the first annual Diocesan Conference, held at Effingham in Surrey, in May 1975, with the specific intention of forming a body of laity who were conscious of the true nature of the Church and were willing to work for her well being together with the clergy.
On the basis of the first two very successful conferences Metropolitan Anthony appointed a Diocesan Assembly, which met for the first time in February 1977. It was composed of all the clergy of the Diocese, representatives from each of the communities, and certain other specially chosen individuals. At Metropolitan Anthony’s suggestion, the Assembly appointed a Statutes Committee, consisting of myself, then an Archpriest, Costa Carras and Dr Andrew Walker. Our brief was to prepare statutes for the Diocese that would reflect Metropolitan Anthony’s constantly repeated position that the provisions drawn up by the Moscow Sobor of 1917-1918, though inapplicable for obvious reasons in what was then the Soviet Union, were the basis on which the life of the Russian Church in the diaspora should be organised.
The Statutes Committee went to work and drew up draft provisions that were then, section by section, submitted to the Assembly for scrutiny and ultimately for approval. The basis of this work was the Sobor of 1917-18, but we were helped by the fact that the so-called ‘Metropolia’ in the United States had carried out a similar task at an earlier stage. The Statute of the ‘Metropolia’ was adopted in 1955 at the Ninth All-American Sobor and modified subsequently in the Sobors of 1959, 1963 and 1967. It is important to note that the internal governance of the ‘Metropolia’ was in effect approved by the Patriarchate of Moscow when, in 1970, it granted autocephaly to what had until then been officially called ‘The Russian Orthodox Greek Catholic Church of America’, thereby turning it into the ‘OCA’, ‘The Orthodox Church in America’. After the grant of autocephaly further necessary changes were introduced into the Statute of the new Church, which were ratified at the All-America Council of October 1971 and continue to be used, with modifications, until this day.
The political background for the work of the Statutes Committee was the period of ‘stagnation’, the ‘Brezhnev years’, when the Soviet Union was enjoying very bad press in Britain and elsewhere, and the persecution and arrest of dissidents was probably the most frequently reported aspect of Russian life in the British media. The stance taken by Metropolitan Anthony during these years was that his Diocese was in some sense the voice of the ‘free’ Russian Church, the Russian Church as it would be if it were not being suppressed by the Soviet regime.
Basic principles From the very beginning the work of the Statutes Committee was based on the ‘eucharistic ecclesiology’ developed by Father Nikolai Afanasiev at St Serge in Paris and carried forward by such notable figures as Father Alexander Schmemann, Father John Meyendorff and Professor John Zizioulas (now Metropolitan John of Pergamon). This meant in practice that the Committee sought to bear in mind at all times the liturgical structuring of the Divine Liturgy when this is celebrated fully by a bishop surrounded by his people.
In this model, according to current practice, the bishop enters the church, is vested in the midst of the people, and is then joined by the rest of the celebrating clergy. The local Church, the diocese, is formed before our eyes: the bishop in the centre, surrounded by his flock in a structured and ordered form, each member with a task to fulfil and each member making his or her contribution to the fullness and completeness of the whole.
At the time of the Little Entrance the bishop then proceeds into the sanctuary, following the Gospel borne by the deacon, and there he is joined by the rest of the clergy. The Epistle and Gospel are read, and the bishop preaches the Word of God as teacher of the flock. Then, after the dismissal of the catechumens, the clergy bring to the bishop the bloodless offering of bread and wine. He receives them and proceeds to their consecration, after which the Holy Doors are opened and he and the deacon come out to distribute the Holy Things to the people. When communion has been received, the people are dismissed with the words, ‘Let us depart in peace’, and in the hearts of the people the peace of God, the peace of Christ, is borne out into the world.
In the Statutes as developed the roles of the bishop, presbyters, deacons and laity are ultimately derived from the part they play in the Divine Liturgy, where the bishop is surrounded by a college of presbyters, assisted by deacons, and confirmed in his role by the ‘Amen’ of the faithful. Thus in the diocese the bishop is the heart of all that is done. ‘It is his task to ensure the unity of the community around himself as an image of Christ. Nothing should be done without his knowledge and his blessing. It is the task of the presbytery … to advise and assist the bishop in his task, maintaining unity among themselves and thereby fostering unity among the faithful. Finally, it is the particular task and vocation of the faithful, in their oneness with the bishop and the presbytery, to contribute to the building up of the Local Church, the Diocese, … and to bear the message of Christ throughout society in all that they say and do.’ (Introduction, pp. viiif.) The Church as a whole is a priestly body, the Body of Christ, in which each has his or her role to play.
Local conditions In Britain, as elsewhere, the concrete realisation of the Church is conditioned by the local situation, by local culture, and in particular by local legal constrictions. In Britain one of the most important factors has been the nature of English trust law. This provides for the establishment of legal entities whose purpose and manner of working are determined by Trust Deeds whose provisions are enforceable by the State, with any derogation from the terms of the Trust being subject to serious penalties.
English trust law has been developing steadily over the past five hundred years or so, and has recently been the subject of considerable expansion and codification. The British government gives certain significant tax privileges to what are called ‘charitable trusts’, but only on condition that the activities of a charitable trust should be a matter of public record. At present the accounts of any charitable trust are available to the public, as are the names of the trustees who are responsible for fulfilling its provisions. Each year the trustees must prepare a written report on the trust’s activities, and this is also available to the public. The effect of this is that every penny spent in carrying out the activities of the trust must be accounted for under conditions of complete transparency. Any member of the public is entitled to approach the Charity Commission if he or she thinks that things are not being done properly. This fact of contemporary British life has had considerable influence on the development of the Statutes of the Diocese of Sourozh.
General characteristics of the episcopal office In the Statutes the role of bishop is set out under three headings: the bishop as president of the eucharistic assembly, as teacher, and as pastor. The heading I wish to treat today is the third: the role of the bishop as pastor, as this was defined under the guidance of Metropolitan Anthony.
This role can be considered from a number of different points of view. In the Statutes as they stand one of these is the fact that the bishop exercises the power ‘to bind and to loose’, whether this be personally or through the presbyterate. This could easily be thought of as linked more closely to his role as president of the eucharistic assembly than to his role as pastor, since it concerns primarily the ability to grant permission to partake of communion and thus to refuse communion. I myself would prefer this understanding, but it was not the one chosen at the time.
Then he is required to prepare and ordain candidates to the priesthood. The Statutes indicate that this should be done, where possible, when someone has been proposed by the local community. In any case it should be done after consultation with the presbytery and the local community. Note that only consultation is required, and that the hands of the bishop are not tied. In the case of deacons, sub-deacons and readers, consultation with the local community is all that is required, the implication being that the presbytery is a collegial body, and that new members should not simply be forced upon it without previous consultation. The transfer of clergy also should take place only after consultation.
Experience thus far has shown the value of these procedures. At the current stage in the development of the diaspora, it is extremely important that the local community feel itself responsible for encouraging suitable candidates to make themselves available for service to the Church. The Mother Church cannot provide them, though it can help to train them.
The bishop also acts as judge in the Diocese, an onerous task that corresponds in some ways to that of Christ on the Last Day. To assist the bishop the Statutes initially provided for a Panel of Mediators and a Tribunal, but after a period of some ten years during which these bodies were not used, it was decided to amend the Statutes and simplify them, providing only for a Diocesan Court whose members, two clergy and two lay, are chosen by the Assembly from among its members and approved by the bishop.
This body too has never been convoked, and it is not clear that the diocese at present has sufficient competent clergy and lay members to carry out court procedures properly. For this reason it would seem best now to adopt the pattern recently established by the Russian Church and to use the Diocesan Council as the body that would consider disciplinary cases and submit its opinion to the bishop. In any case, the bishop remains the ultimate authority, and he must approve and confirm the Court’s decisions. Provision is made for appeal when necessary to the Holy Synod as the next higher instance. Interestingly enough, an appeal procedure is now also required by British law.
Further straightforward aspects of the bishop’s pastoral activity are the establishment of parishes (after consultation with the Presbytery), and the supervision of monastic life. And of course he is expected to visit regularly the local communities.
The bishop as chairman of the Presbytery The relationship of the bishop to his presbyters is perhaps the most important aspect of the diocesan structure as developed under Metropolitan Anthony. The term ‘presbyter’, from which we get the English word ‘priest’ and the French word pretre, originally meant simply ‘elder’. Not an elder in the sense of age, but elder in the sense of someone who has lived, who has acquired the wisdom that comes with experience, someone who has outgrown the foibles an inconstancy of youth. This is the ecclesial wisdom that lies behind the Orthodox requirement that a priest be a married man, in other words, that he have already taken upon himself responsibility for others – for wife, for children, for aging parents – before he takes on responsibility for his other family, the Church.
As a result, the Presbytery is a body that by its very nature is well placed to advise the bishop, to share with him responsibility for the pastoral guidance of the Diocese. When Metropolitan Anthony first began to meet with his presbyters, there were five of us. For me personally it was an extremely profitable experience. To begin with, of course, all the other priests were my seniors, and I absorbed what I could from what they said, the stories they told, the comments they made on the life of their parishes – and simply from the way they behaved. What was most striking about our meetings was the way in which Metropolitan Anthony was able to listen. He made no effort to dominate the Presbytery. But what he said always had great weight. In fact, what any one of us said had weight, but it was a weight that was given it by the person who uttered it. And after discussion it was generally clear to everyone what the answer was, and what direction we should take.
As the size of the Presbytery grew over the years the need began to be felt for a smaller group of people around the bishop who could meet more easily and provide the same sort of support in parvo. As a result a section was introduced into the Statutes providing for a Bishop’s Advisory Council, whose clergy and lay members were to be appointed by the bishop from the members of the Assembly with the intention that they should help him particularly with outlying communities.
In the end this proved unfeasible, largely because of Metropolitan Anthony’s inbuilt resistance to meetings of any kind. Since the parishes and communities of the Diocese were organised into deaneries a year and a half ago, it has proven possible to provide this function by holding meetings of the five deans, together with the Dean of Presbyters, on a regular basis. This has now been shown to be an effective way of providing a smaller group of advisors capable of assisting the bishop in specifically pastoral matters.
The bishop as president of the Diocesan Assembly and Diocesan Council The primary means provided by the Statutes for the creation of a group of clergy and laity able to transcend the purely parochial level of Church life was always the Diocesan Assembly. From the beginning its members were provided in a variety of ways. All bishops and presbyters were automatically members, while deacons were entitled to attend, but without a vote unless specifically elected in their own right. Then there was a single member elected from and by each parish, and a member appointed by the bishop for each Local Congregation with a right to be present and speak but not to vote. Finally, from the Diocese as a whole twenty-eight additional members are chosen in an election held throughout the Diocese. Seven members are chosen each year for a four-year term. At present there are some forty full members of the Assembly, plus about twenty members with the right to speak but not to vote.
The Assembly elects from among its members the Diocesan Council, which should have between ten and sixteen members, of whom six must be lay persons (among them the Diocesan Secretary and Diocesan Treasurer). The task of this smaller body is to prepare the agenda of the Assembly, to draw up the annual budget, to appoint committees at the request of the Assembly, and to implement the Assembly’s decisions.
The person who will serve as Chairman of both the Council and the Assembly is proposed by the bishop and approved by the Assembly. The purpose of this is to free the bishop, as President, from the task of conducting the business of these bodies, and at the same time to ensure that the person carrying out this task has his complete confidence.
In any case, all decisions of both Council and Assembly must be approved by the bishop before they are put into effect. In this way the bishop remains in ultimate control of the activities of the Diocese. Without his blessing, no programme can be carried out.
Various other aspects One of the most onerous tasks of the Diocesan Secretary is the preparation of the Diocesan Electoral and the conduct of Diocesan Elections. The role is drawn up on the basis of lists sent in by the Secretaries of the different parishes and local congregations. It is also their responsibility to see that in the local communities the elections are properly carried out.
In the 70s and 80s it was envisaged that the choice of a candidate to be proposed to the Holy Synod for consecration as diocesan bishop would be made by the Diocese as a whole, but with the passage of time and the growth in number of parishes and local congregations, it was accepted that this was impracticable, and in the latest version of the Statutes the Assembly itself proposes a candidate for the Synod’s approval.
The Statutes also provide for the appointment of an Audit Committee. This has now fallen into abeyance, since new government legislation requires that the accounts of charities of our size be audited professionally. My own feeling is, however, that the Audit Committee could be brought back to life with the broader task of considering in general the administration of the Diocese’s activities and making suggestions for its improvement.
The presentation of the Statutes to the Patriarch After the collapse of communism in 1991 and the resultant opening up of Church life in the countries of the Former Soviet Union, Metropolitan Anthony suggested that the Diocesan Statutes be presented to the Patriarch and Synod as our contribution to the process of revision of the Statute of the Russian Church that was taking place in the run-up to the Council of 2000.
In June 1998 the Diocesan Statutes were produced for the first time in printed form. A Russian translation was also prepared, and these were taken to Moscow by myself and Irina Kirillova, the chairman of the Assembly, in …… of that year(?). In our audience with the Patriarch we asked if the Statutes could be approved by the Synod. The Patriarch smiled and said: ‘Well, you’re living by them, aren’t you?’ From this we understood that they would not be officially approved, but that that their use was tacitly accepted. In the end, the Statute of the Russian Church adopted in 2000 was drawn up with the conditions of Church life in the Russian Federation very much in mind, and almost no attention was paid to the experience of the Russian Church in the diaspora. This was probably both necessary and inevitable.
The current situation The situation changed dramatically, however, two years ago. On 1 April 2003 Patriarch Alexis published an open letter to the hierarchs and parishes of the three branches of the Russian diaspora in Western Europe inviting them to overcome their differences and join together to form a single self-governing metropolia in Western Europe under the Patriarchate of Moscow. Not only would this, he said, help to consolidate the excessive number of different jurisdictions present in Western Europe, but it could serve as a model for similar moves on the part of other jurisdictions in the area, thereby facilitating the eventual creation of multi-national Local Church in Western Europe.
The Patriarch pointed out that the various different Russian jurisdictions in the West had, over the coarse of some seventy years, developed their own ways of administering their flocks, and accepted that there would be many who would like to preserve these practices, when it came to determining the internal structures and procedures of the proposed metropolia. He noted that these practices even included the election by the dioceses of their bishop.
The Patriarch specifically asked Metropolitan Anthony to act as the head of the new metropolia on an interim basis until such time as provisions for the election of a successor could be put in place. The appointment of Metropolitan Anthony was justified by the great respect in which he was held by all, but behind this respect there must also have been the knowledge that he had been successful in guiding the Diocese of Sourozh along a path that had enabled it to find its natural place in Britain while remaining faithful to the Patriarchate of Moscow.
When Metropolitan Anthony received the Patriarch’s letter, his response was quite simply: ‘Well, at last they’ve listened to what I’ve been saying all along.’ He was already seriously ill of cancer, however, and died just four months later. There was never any real chance that he could carry out the task that the Patriarch had entrusted to him. It might have seemed, therefore, that nothing would come of the Patriarch’s suggestion.
In May of this year, however, Archbishop Innokentii of Korsun returned to the idea of a metropolia for Western Europe in an important paper entitled ‘The Unification of the Russian Diaspora: A Step towards the Creation of a Local Church.’ In it he went back over the Patriarch’s letter of April 2003 and spelled out in some detail its implications, placing its proposals in the context of world Orthodoxy and the consistent position of the Russian Church as regards the future of the worldwide diaspora. Bringing his presentation to a close, Archbishop Innokentii called upon the different jurisdictions of the Russian Diaspora in Western Europe to work together on a detailed framework within which unity might be achieved.
During the past two months I have had a chance to go over this paper in detail, first with the heads of the various deaneries of the Diocese, then in a meeting of all the clergy, and most recently with the Diocesan Council. The general thrust of Archbishop Innokentii’s presentation has been very well received indeed, though there are no illusions about the complexity of the task he has set before us and the barriers that exist to its successful completion. But the proposal to create a metropolia is seen as a natural outgrowth of all the work the Metropolitan Anthony put into bringing the Diocese of Sourozh into existence and providing it with the structures by which it now lives. It was particularly encouraging to find in Archbishop Innokentii’s paper a specific reference to the Statutes of the Diocese and the acknowledgement that the Diocese ‘is in practice governed by an internal statute that has been significantly altered [by comparison with that of the Patriarchate], being in some respects close to the Statute of the Exarchate of the Patriarchate of Constantinople, and linked to the Moscow of 1917-1918.’
Conclusions The conclusion I draw from all of this is that Metropolitan Anthony was far ahead of his time in his understanding of where the Orthodox of Western Europe should be going and what they should be doing in order to get there. In his letter to Patriarch Alexis of 22 June 1998, in which he commended that Statutes of the Diocese of Sourozh to the consideration of the Patriarch and Holy Synod, he declared, speaking of the process by which the Statutes came in being: ‘These Statutes began, in our eyes, to be a theology of the oneness of the Church, manifested anew in – an indeed potentially, by – the Diaspora, which then ceases to be nothing more that the presence in ‘non-Orthodox’ countries of the representatives of the Mother Churches, but THE CHURCH, alive, both in the process of becoming and already one in God.’
What seems to me very significant here – and it is echoed in the letter of the Patriarch and in Archbishop Innokentii’s talk – is the expression ‘Mother Churches’, in the plural. The point he was making – and the point that was made by both the Patriarch and Archbishop Innokentii – is that all the ethnic diasporas are called to follow the same path as followed by the Diocese of Sourozh. In other words, they are called to convert political and economic emigration into what it really is in the eyes of God: an opportunity, an invitation, a vocation – to incarnate the Orthodox Church in Western Europe and throughout the world in the forms called for by the Holy Canons, accepting that this means embracing wholeheartedly the process of acculturation in new lands and new cultures in the knowledge the Orthodoxy is now not an ‘Eastern’ phenomenon, but a worldwide presence as a leaven in the world.
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