Archpriest Steven Belonick
December 13, 2007
Today, brothers and sisters, we commemorate the 24th anniversary of the falling asleep of our beloved former Dean, Fr Alexander Schmemann. It is a memorial we keep each year, as an opportunity to remember him and to give thanks to God for the gift that he was to our seminary and to the Orthodox Church throughout the world.
Let me take you back for a moment to April 19, 1953, when Metropolitan Leonty, also of blessed memory, raised the then 27-year-old Fr Alexander to the rank of Archpriest. Let me share an excerpt from the Metropolitan’s address:
“The theological school” he said, “is the crown of the creation of the Local Church. It places her in alignment with the Apostles, Prophets, Fathers, and Teachers of the Church of Christ. Here the Savior’s words come true: ‘You are like light for the whole world, a city built on a hill’ (Matt. 5:14).”
Metropolitan Leonty continued, “You, too, stand on such a hill, Father Alexander! It behooves you, therefore, to ‘stand at the head of the presbyters’ and be called an ‘archpriest.’ This title and position among the clergy of our North American Metropolia is now given to you, by decision of the Great Council of Bishops of our Metropolia. Guard this title, and our Lord Jesus Christ, the Great Chief Pastor, will increase your physical and spiritual strength for good words—for a fruitful offering in His Church for the good of His new Vineyard in the New World.”
Then Metropolitan Leonty stated in a louder voice, “Father Alexander, Professor of Theology at St Vladimir’s Theological Academy in the City of New York, is now elevated to the rank of archpriest by my humility. Axios! Axios! Axios!”
Metropolitan Leonty’s words were prophetic, my friends, because the work of Fr Alexander bore, and still bears, much fruit. He was a teacher of a generation of patriarchs, bishops, and clergy. He had the ability to speak clearly and simply, yet profoundly, not only to theologians but also to laity. In his personal diary, Fr Alexander makes a startling entry: “My dream is to write for the people, not for theologians. And when I find that it works—what joy!” Besides this, Fr Alexander was a beacon of hope, sanity, and truth to millions under communist captivity in Russia through his Radio Liberty broadcasts that spanned 30 years.
And what was his simple yet profound message? He taught that all things—the human person, the material world, human relationships, our work, our study, and our play—find their ultimate meaning and purpose only in Christ. He reminded us that Christ never spoke of the “natural” and the “supernatural.” Rather, He spoke about the “old” and the “new,” and that only when the “old” —inherent in everything—passed away could the “new” in everything be rediscovered. He taught us that this transfiguration from the old to the new is initially completed and experienced in the Church, and that the Church, therefore, is a taste of, a passage to, and an epiphany (one of his favorite words) of the kingdom of heaven. It was his conviction that the divisions and separations seemingly inherent in our fallen world—namely, the sacred and the profane, the world and the kingdom, the material and the spiritual—are healed only in and through Christ. It was his witness that this vision, specifically, this “sacramental vision,” was at the core of Orthodoxy, and that this vision should influence how we live our lives “from Eucharist to Eucharist.” Listen to his words:
The Church is the “home” each of us leaves to go to work and to which one returns with joy in order to find life, happiness and joy, to which everyone brings back the fruits of his labor and where everything is transformed into a feast, into freedom and fulfillment, the presence, the experience of this home—already out of time, unchanging, filled with eternity, revealing eternity. Only this presence can give meaning and value to everything in life, can refer everything to that experience, and make it full.
For him, any attempt to reduce Life to something less than this vision was a flirtation with idolatry and, in the end, a betrayal of Orthodoxy.
People say that he was against “monasticism.” No. What he was against was monks “playing monks.” People say that he was against “spirituality.” No. What he was against was a pseudo-piety with trappings, devoid of God. People say that he ruined the sense of “mystery” in the Liturgy by proposing that the Eucharistic prayers being prayed aloud in dialogue with the congregation. No. What he wished to challenge, my friends, was the propagation of a “mysteriousness” in the Liturgy, which relegated the people of God to observers and non-communicants of the gifts of Life presented to them.
Fr Alexander loved to quote the Kontakion of Ascension:
When Thou didst fulfill Thy dispensation for our sake; and didst unite earth to heaven; Thou didst ascend in glory, O Christ our God, not being parted from those who love Thee, but remaining with them and crying: “I am with you, and no one will prevail against you!”
In his diary, he writes: “…[the] whole of Christianity is essentially about the ‘uniting of things on earth with the Heavens’…” This deeply held conviction of Fr Alexander explains the prominent place of the Icon of the Ascension in our seminary chapel.
Let me conclude by sharing with you one illuminating personal anecdote. Fr Alexander was the reader for my senior M.Div. Thesis, which had as its theme “Holy Saturday.” After we completed that particular service that year, he waited for me at the bottom of the stairs in the Germack Building. He asked me, “So, Steven, now that you have studied Holy Saturday for an entire year and have just celebrated it in the chapel, what have you to say?” You can imagine my fear at his question. Here he was, “bigger than life,” and asking a question of that magnitude after a three-hour service. After stuttering a bit, I answered simply and honestly: “Father,” I admitted, “this service is beyond what I can embrace and understand.” After those words of inadequacy blurted out of my mouth, I feared the worst from my Professor and Dean. Instead, in a very kind way and without judgment, he put me at ease. “I understand”, he said. “I have studied this service for 40 years and have not yet been able to fully comprehend it.”
That day, my friends, I learned that Fr Alexander was a kind pastor. However, I also learned that Fr Alexander was a man of God who was always struggling to deepen his understanding of the things of God, especially the Liturgy that proclaims God’s Word. May we learn from his example.
As we gather to remember him this evening, my brothers and sisters, let us again thank God for him for being, in Metropolitan Leonty’s words, a “light on the hill” and a “fruitful offering” to Christ. May his memory be eternal!
Amen!
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