4. Americans in the Russian Church

American visitors to Russian Sunday services. – Their impressions. – The social position of the Russian priest. – The need to become acquainted with the Russian Church. – The importance of the church organ. – Conclusion.

The opening of the Russian Orthodox Church in New York in 1870 was for Americans a new and extraordinary phenomenon. The capital of the New World is truly a metropolis of churches. On a single street here you can count a good dozen temples, all of different denominations and sects. But until that year there was among them no church that, like a majestic queen, sat enthroned in the distant and mysterious East, as it appeared to Americans. The longstanding friendly relations they maintained with the Russian people, as the principal representatives of the Orthodox Church, awakened interest and a desire for closer acquaintance with the mysterious Church of that friendly nation. When, therefore, the distant and hitherto inaccessible church suddenly appeared among Americans, they turned to it with the liveliest interest, carefully studying the rites and teachings of the Orthodox Church. On the American continent, it is true, an Orthodox Church already existed and even an entire diocese—namely in the “far west” in Alaska and San Francisco—but this far west, located seven thousand versts from the principal center of American life, remained until very recently, even when railroads were built, completely a world apart, and the existence of the Orthodox Church there has had almost no significance for the acquaintance of Americans with our Church. That church is a church for the Orthodox population already existing there and for kindling the light of true faith among the semi-savage sons of the distant north. For Americans, only a church on the eastern ocean shore of the continent could have significance, and therefore the appearance of the Orthodox Church in New York was for them such a novelty as if the Orthodox Church had not existed at all on the American continent before.

From its very opening, the church in New York became the object of the liveliest public interest. Despite its modest outward appearance, which was entirely out of keeping with the dazzling splendor of Eastern church rites and ceremonies that Americans imagined, and its insignificant position among the magnificent temples of other denominations, it at once assumed a prominent place in society and, in the early days, there was scarcely a Sunday service about which the newspapers did not publish the most detailed accounts. With time, of course, this interest, aroused by the novelty of the subject, somewhat diminished, but even at present every more or less significant holiday in the church attracts newspaper reporters from the best papers and large numbers of Americans of various denominations and congregations. In ten years, from among casual American visitors, several individuals have come forward who now form the regular attendants of Sunday service. On the great annual holidays they come in such numbers that the church cannot hold even half of them all. Those who arrive late return home with regret, while the more fortunate ones fill the church to capacity, though afterwards they usually complain of the inconvenience of such crowding. For Americans accustomed to comfortable seating in their own churches, our Russian custom of allowing anyone to enter the church freely and according to their devotion, rather than by tickets and numbers, seems like the height of inconvenience, and only the most lively interest in seeing Orthodox worship makes them overlook such discomfort. Americans behave extremely decorously in the church, carefully follow all the smallest details of the service, and their faces stretch out into a remarkable picture of curiosity when, for example, the royal doors are opened, the great procession takes place, or even simply a candlestick is moved from one place to another. The newspaper reporters are the most curious of all. Not understanding the Slavonic language in which the service is ordinarily conducted on great holidays, they concentrate all their attention on the external setting and service itself: they describe the pictures (icons), banners (liturgical vestments), count the candles and describe their placement, follow the spread of clouds of incense and the manner of the incensing with frankincense, sketch the appearance and gestures of the priest and cantor, and make comparisons regarding the similarity or difference between Orthodox worship and the worship of other churches, determining the number of worshippers and their conduct, and so on. After the service they pounce on the priest or cantor with questions about the inner side of the service, asking about the meaning of various rites, about the content of prayers or hymns, and inquiring about the text of the read gospel and epistle. The next day, and often the same day in the evening editions, detailed accounts appear in the newspapers, eloquently written on the basis of their observations and inquiries, with curious headlines like: “Father Bierring and His Russian Altar,” and filled with many curiosities in the content itself. Some American visitors linger after the service and turn to the priest for explanations of the aspects of worship that impressed them most, and American ladies often ask to examine church vestments more closely, their cut and the material from which they are made.

Apart from ordinary Americans, representatives of various American churches—pastors and bishops—often come to the chapel. Some travel from far away. Not long ago, for instance, a pastor came from Chicago, fifteen hundred versts from New York. As educated theologians, they regard the church and its worship not with simple curiosity but with criticism, and in conversation with the priest or cantor they enter into consideration of the historical and theological foundations of the Orthodox Church. From these conversations both with pastors and with ordinary Americans, one could discern certain common traits in their attitudes toward Orthodox worship. Americans in general are extremely polite and will offer you a mass of compliments before moving on to a critical expression of their views. Therefore, to initial questions about how they liked the Russian service, they always respond that they “very much enjoyed it” and that they take away “the best impression in the world.” They are extremely interested in the external setting of the church and they inquire curiously about all its details, having first assured themselves that this church represents a typical Russian temple generally. They regard our church as a remarkable archaeological monument, preserved from the golden ages of Christianity. Moving on to the service itself, they also cannot help but acknowledge its antiquity, but here they look from a more practical point of view and consider it somewhat outdated for our time. They cannot understand why our service involves so many repetitions of the same prayers (“again and again, with peace, let us beseech the Lord”). In their view, this is a great anachronism for our time. Instead of these repeating prayers, they think it would be much better to introduce as many moral lessons as possible from Holy Scripture into the service, or in the form of preaching. American worship is shortened to the utmost degree and consists merely of a few hymns and principally of preaching. The absence of preaching in our service surprises them most of all, since with them the glory of the church is based on preaching. Reporters ordinarily conclude their newspaper accounts by saying that “there was no sermon, according to the Eastern custom,” and when there is one, they make large excerpts from it. The absence of music in the church also, in their view, deprives the Russian service of much in comparison with the Western churches. They cannot understand why our church is so strict regarding music, when music, according to Holy Scripture, exists even in heaven and the trumpet calls of the archangels ceaselessly sing the praises of the Creator. In this respect Americans truly come closer to the archangels: in the musical program of their services you constantly find “trumpet call” in the form of some solo on the cornet. Such remarks about the lack of music in our church are more likely provoked, however, by the poverty of vocal resources in the worship of the New York church itself. A small choir would entirely eliminate this remark, as one can judge from the account of the Petersburg correspondent of the Herald about church singing in the great cathedrals of our capital. In his opinion, “it is difficult to imagine anything better than Russian church singing by a choir of male and children’s voices.” In America children’s voices are ordinarily replaced by women’s, and this remark is therefore especially interesting in a certain respect. Nevertheless, despite the meagerness of Russian singing here, Americans are interested in it, amazed at the uniqueness of the melodies, and often ask to see the musical notation itself. At one Sunday service a Bishop Jung from Florida visited our church with his wife and examined in detail the notation used in the service. He became so interested in some melodies that he asked the cantor to send him from Russia several similar musical church compositions. The Bishop had traveled extensively in the East, had been to Petersburg and Moscow, and shared his impressions with lively interest. He was a member of the commission that the American Episcopal Church sent to the East in the 1860s to investigate the question of church unity. Among other bishops, Bishop Quintard from Tennessee visited our church more frequently than others. He is especially interested in the canon law of our church, and once, in a difficult case in his episcopal practice, consulted with Father Nicholas Bierring about how such cases are resolved in the Russian Orthodox Church. In general, it is pleasant to see how Americans are interested in our church, but even more pleasant to hear how they, in generalizing their observations, ultimately conclude that in any case they take away the “best impression in the world.”

One of the interesting aspects of American church and religious life is the social position of the clergy there. The priest constitutes, one might say, the soul of society. No meeting of any importance whatsoever takes place without him, and at the same time he is the first friend of every household in his parish. Thanks to a high level of education and strong oratorical talents, pastors play an important role even in the political life of the country, and at every political rally, several “divine doctors,” as pastors with the highest scholarly theological degree are officially called, always appear among the speakers. Owing to such an arrangement, Americans have formed the view of the priest as an important public figure and a man of great connections and influence outside the church as well, so that they most readily turn to him for “patronage” in case of any difficulties or needs. The more influential the priest in this respect, the higher his church is valued. The rector of the Russian church holds a very advantageous position in this regard. He is a member of many societies—charitable, literary, scholarly, and political—and thanks to this has extensive acquaintance both in the city and beyond its borders. Among scholarly societies, for example, he is an honorary member of the well-known “Geographical Society.” Americans are passionate lovers of clubs, and they are scattered throughout the city in countless numbers, with various names and purposes, and each club has a priest who delivers speeches at its meetings and reads a prayer before formal, monthly, or annual dinners of club members. Prayer is considered necessary by Americans even before public dinners at clubs. With us, as is known, music displaced prayer in such cases long ago. Father Nicholas Bierring occupies such a position in one of the city’s wealthiest clubs, namely the “Club of Saint Nicholas,” which has given him the opportunity to enter into close relations with such first-rate statesmen as, for example, the former Democratic presidential candidate General Hancock, with whom he maintains family acquaintance. It is interesting to note here, by the way, one trait that recalls the well-known saying: Amicus Plato, sed magis amica veritas [A friend to Plato, but a greater friend to truth]. Father Nicholas Bierring, as an American citizen, has long been a Republican in his political convictions, that is, a supporter of the Republican party. Now the selection of his family friend by the Democrats for the presidency would naturally be expected to draw him to the Democratic side, but he remained faithful to his party and casts his vote for the Republican candidate, announcing that in this case he prefers the principles of his party to the interests of personal relations. For that reason he enjoys even greater honor among the Republicans. At a recent reception in New York of the former President, the famous General Grant, the leader of the Republican party made him a personal invitation to participate in the celebration. Such a social position of the Russian priest is extremely important for the Russian population here. With his patronage any Russian can find for himself a more or less respectable position, provided he is not prevented by ability, education, and the “convictions” of the petitioner. Unfortunately, most of the more or less educated Russians here have “radical” inclinations, and to recommend such gentlemen to the confidence of Americans would mean losing one’s own confidence. Nowhere, surely, are people with “radical” inclinations held in greater contempt than in this free country. To others he renders important services. Various societies often invite the Russian priest as a guest to their ceremonial gatherings, where representatives of science, literature, and art are present, and there are sometimes amusing incidents. Such was, for instance, a gathering at the “Arcadia” club, where there were poets, philosophers, politicians, and, among others, the Russian priest was invited. At the gathering, as usual, endless speeches were given—an inevitable feature of every American assembly. Among the speakers, the poet Joaquin Miller and Father Nicholas Bierring particularly distinguished themselves. The newspaper account reports it this way: “The next speaker called was the poet Joaquin Miller, but he responded to the call by saying he had decided this time not to make any speech and quietly sat back in his chair. This fairly well-known American poet makes a strange impression. He looks exactly like a Russian peasant. He eats a lot, drinks a lot, and sits silently working his teeth throughout the entire dinner. The next speaker was the Russian priest, who praised the American Constitution and declared that if there are any shortcomings in the government, the people themselves are to blame, as they should be more careful in choosing the men to whom they entrust power. It was quite curious to observe the appearance of these two vis-à-vis, the popular American poet and the modest Russian priest. The American poet resembled a Russian livestock dealer who had come to the Nizhny Novgorod fair, whereas the Russian priest had the appearance of a very respectable American farmer.” It is easy to guess which of the persons concerned was more pleased with this account.

The prominent position of the Russian church’s priest in American society has important significance both as a representative of the Russian people among Americans and as a representative of his church. Americans are aristocrats at heart and regard with great respect and interest a church represented by a man of good standing in society and with high education. Meanwhile, by some strange coincidence, there have circulated among Americans certain books about the Russian Church that depict it and Russian clergy in the most unattractive light for Americans. For this reason it is the more pleasant for Americans now to see in the representative of the Russian Church qualities precisely opposite to those described in these malicious books, and with greater vivacity are they interested in the Orthodox Church.