MP Commentator on the OCA's autocephaly: “Epilogue,” or Psinka, Padlo, Svolota, and Nehuy Do America...

Alexey Rodionov | July 23, 2026

[The conclusion of the author’s Russian work entitled: “Unholy Autocephaly, or How the Independence of the OCA Began,” links below]

 

 

About fifteen years ago, I was greatly surprised when I read that Archbishop Vitaly (Maximenko) was highly skeptical of the very idea of autocephaly for the North American Metropolia (the present-day OCA). Thus, on the occasion of the repose of Metropolitan Theophilus (Pashkovsky), he wrote:

“If the Russian Orthodox Church in America, even after the repose of Metropolitan Theophilus, continues along the path of the Cleveland Council of 1946, it will inevitably face complete separation from Russian Orthodoxy, the abandonment of the sacred rules and customs of the Russian Orthodox Church, and apostasy from Holy Orthodoxy itself and from the Body of Christ, through which alone we can escape eternal condemnation and save our souls.”

(In Memory of Metropolitan Theophilus // Vitaly [Maximenko], Archbishop. The Motives of My Life. Jordanville: Holy Trinity Monastery, 1955, pp. 118–123.)

At that time, I was convinced that Archbishop Vitaly (Maximenko) had been mistaken and that the OCA, despite all its problems, had by no means departed from the teaching of the Orthodox Church. But the more I observe what is happening, the more convinced I become that, although Archbishop Vitaly may perhaps have spoken too heatedly, his skepticism was by no means groundless... To this day, people like to blame the ROCOR Synod of Bishops, and ROCOR in general, for everything, portraying its leadership as chiefly responsible for all the misfortunes of the Russian emigration. Yet a careful study of the events of a century ago, an account of which I posted here today, makes it possible to understand that this was by no means the case.

Links in Russian:

Part 1: https://rocor-observer.livejournal.com/465835.html

Part 2: https://rocor-observer.livejournal.com/466109.html

Part 3: https://rocor-observer.livejournal.com/466274.html

Part 4: https://rocor-observer.livejournal.com/466483.html

Moreover, at that time, among all the parties to the conflict, it was precisely the ROCOR Synod that conducted itself most properly in this conflict. Although, of course, it too could not avoid making mistakes.

However, that is still not the main point. The question is whether the rupture with Metropolitan Evlogius could have been avoided. It could have been, but this would have required enormous effort, unquestionable diplomatic talent, perseverance, and, of course, tact. And ROCOR did have such a man—Archbishop Anastasy (Gribanovsky), the future First Hierarch of ROCOR. He understood both theology and the human soul, and his patience was exceptional. But no one in Sremski Karlovci expected everything to unfold so rapidly and to become irreversible so quickly. He did not move to Sremski Karlovci until 1934. Nevertheless, I repeat, reconciliation was still achievable. By contrast, reaching an agreement with Metropolitan Platon (Rozhdestvensky) was impossible from the outset. Indeed, how can one reach an agreement with someone whose life is devoid of any principles whatsoever? Moreover, the flock and clergy in North America differed greatly from those in Europe.

For the most part, it then consisted of Carpatho-Russians, Galicians, and Bukovinian Slavs who had come over from the Unia. Neither they nor their descendants had ever lived in the Russian Empire. They had always lived under a foreign yoke and had been treated as second- or even third-class people. Neither in Poland nor in Austria (and Austria-Hungary) did anyone take them seriously or attempt to educate or cultivate them. And as soon as the opportunity arose, they emigrated en masse to the United States, where life at that time was likewise often difficult, but where there was no such humiliation and there was an opportunity to make a career. Naturally, little held them to the Unia, into which they had been driven by force. And as soon as, in America itself, the local Roman Catholic bishop, John Ireland, began to oppress them, many immediately converted to Orthodoxy—or, more precisely, joined the North American Diocese of the Russian Church, where they were very warmly received.

But it would be a mistake to think that they immediately, or even after a couple of years, became ardent champions of the Orthodox Faith. There were some who did, but they did not constitute the majority. Moreover, in order to be a zealot of Orthodox teaching, one must know it—and from 1923 to 1936 there was not a single Orthodox seminary in the United States, even one of the most mediocre kind. Alexander Dvorkin writes ironically in his book My America about what Galician-Carpathian faith often amounted to:

“In the Carpatho-Russian parishes, which had formed the backbone of the OCA since the old days, many strange customs had survived. Some of them were rooted in the Unia, which they had left at the end of the nineteenth century; others (such as having a flag in the church) had been acquired later; and still others arose from the peculiarities of the older, prewar generation of clergy, who in the 1960s and 1970s were gradually replaced by younger, better-educated priests.

Incidentally, many distinguished Carpatho-Russian archpriests bore surnames that sounded rather strange, to put it mildly: Father Michael Psinka, Father Paul Padlo, Father Tom Svolota, and even a certain Father John Nehuy. The last surname was pronounced in a very dignified manner: Nehue.

And now for the story itself. After graduating from the academy, one newly ordained young priest was assigned to an old Carpatho-Russian parish that had recently lost its extremely elderly and deeply revered rector, who had served there for no less than half a century. After some time, a delegation from this parish came to Father Paul [Lazor], asking him to take the new rector back and give them someone else in his place.

‘Why does he not suit you?’ Father Paul asked in surprise. ‘The priest is sincere, educated, and zealous.’

‘No, he is unbelievably lazy,’ the parishioners replied. ‘We do not want anyone so lazy!’

‘???’

‘On Holy Saturday, our old rector would begin driving around to the parishioners’ homes early in the morning to bless the Paschal foods. The parish is large, and so, in order to finish in time, he would arrive at the first homes at six in the morning. Their food was not yet ready, so he would sprinkle the empty oven with holy water, and he would not finish these visits until late in the evening. Now there was a hard worker! But your new priest does not go around.’

‘Then what does he do?’ Father Paul asked.

‘He spends all his time in church! He serves some kind of service,’ the parishioners replied irritably.”

(Dvorkin, A. L. My America: An Autobiographical Novel in Two Books, with a Prologue and Two Epilogues. 2nd corrected ed. Nizhny Novgorod: Christian Library Publishing House, 2013, pp. 501–502.)

I cannot refrain from recalling the words of an active, well-known, and educated cleric of the North American Metropolia, Archpriest Leonid Turkevich, a native of the city of Kremenets in Volhynia Governorate (now in Ternopil Oblast), which he published in 1926 in the pages of the American Orthodox Messenger. He asserted that Russian ideas, as it turns out, obscure ecclesiastical consciousness, and that the role of the Russian people in building the Universal Church must be brought to an end, since it supposedly impedes the Church’s “universality.” After being widowed, Archpriest Leonid Turkevich embraced monasticism and the episcopate and is now known as Leonty, Metropolitan of All America and Canada. I realize that the authorities of the Russian Empire sought to make their priests useful to society and the state rather than universally minded. But, forgive me, Galician émigrés are hardly the ones to teach us universality!

In this light, it becomes clear how important the mission of Fathers Georges Florovsky, Alexander Schmemann, and John Meyendorff was. Without them, it would not have been possible to train an entire generation of priests who thought in a new way. And without such priests, Archbishop Vitaly (Maximenko’s) sorrowful prediction would almost certainly have come true. And yet one fundamental problem remained. The approach of Schmemann and Meyendorff, aimed at bringing everyday life into the Church and improving it without confronting it, “works” only on one condition: that society itself in the United States and Canada is not plunging into the abyss. But it most certainly is! And it is not merely plunging—it is accelerating its descent ever more rapidly. Thus, when one attempts to “church” something that is becoming increasingly horrible, the final result will invariably become increasingly horrible as well.

And one more point must be addressed. When the First Hierarch of a certain Local Church pursues a particular policy for many years, then even if, after his death, another Primate comes with different aims and approaches, what his predecessor accomplished does not disappear; it merely becomes less visible. And at any moment it is capable of “resurrecting.”

As I have already quoted:

“Close ties with the Episcopal Church, from which Metropolitan Platon received material assistance, pushed his structure onto the path of liberal and often ignorant reforms. <...> Within Metropolitan Platon’s jurisdiction, there were cases of ordination for money, the ordination of men who had been married twice, and also of Jews without any verification as to whether they had been baptized. <...> There were cases of unofficial concelebration and even joint Communion between representatives of the ‘Platonite’ clergy and the clergy of the Episcopal Church.”

(Kostryukov, A. A. The Russian Church Abroad in 1925–1938: Jurisdictional Conflicts and Relations with the Moscow Church Authorities. Moscow: St. Tikhon’s Orthodox University Press, 2011, p. 273.)

Thus, a mere change of generations neither erases the sin that was committed nor safeguards against its repetition. Only a genuine recognition of the sin committed can save—and repentance for it. But, of course, repentance before God, not before any activists, whether in cassocks or out of them.

Therefore, the persistent and numerous appeals of the former ROCOR to the Moscow Patriarchate, calling upon it to repent, were not empty words. On the contrary, they were extremely important. The only problem was that ROCOR itself was not accustomed to repenting either. The negotiations of the 2000s, meanwhile, essentially amounted to obscuring the mutual guilt of both sides in order to avoid responsibility for it. Likewise, the OCA needed autocephaly precisely so that it would no longer have to answer to anyone for what had been done.

But if the OCA was, and remains, so intent on distancing itself from the Russian Church, then what is it striving toward?

 

Russian source: https://rocor-observer.livejournal.com/467448.html