RUSSIA IN VANCOUVER, By Eleanor Dooley, The Sunday Province, 1930
RUSSIAN CHURCH IN VANCOUVER IS LIKE GLIMPSE INTO ANOTHER WORLDBy Allen Roy Evans, The Vancouver Sun, Dec. 20, 1941)
We expect the Russian religion to be emotional and mystical. In his own country, this phase of the Russian’s life has been severely restricted for some 20 years. But this brief span cannot eradicate the ingrained religious inheritance of centuries.
So here on a foreign shore the Russian has kept alive both his physical and his religious life. Let us investigate this exotic manifestation in our midst, not too realistically, but clothing our adventure with some degree of imagination. Thus, if we visit the Russian church on the corner of 7th and Fir, let us imagine that the bulbous dome rises from the great cathedral of St. Isaac. Do not view the little turrets with a common pedestrian glance, but see them as the shining minarets of far-off Nijni Novgorod.
Not knowing the time of service, we enter the church at 10:30 a.m. already a long-bearded priest was going through the early ritual. He was clothed in a black cowl and gown and intoned a service peculiar to English ears.
The interior of the church is circular. A segment is cut off by a high ornate screen. Before the screen are several candleholders, crosses and highly colored paintings and lithographs of saints. The stands are covered with bright gold and purple cloths. Every niche and ledge holds its lighted candle.
In a short time the head of the congregation sheds his somber black and sallies forth in gorgeous robes of red, gold and blue. The love of color is a constant reminder that Russia is close to the influence of the Orient.
The congregation remains standing throughout, women and men segregated. Nothing is done in the uniform fashion of Western churches. Each appears to wait for individual impulsion to bow until his forehead touches the floor, or to carry a taper and light it from the candles on the holder. Each taper is fixed in a socket and left burning. Other than this the congregation takes no part in the services. It would only be embarrassing for an outsider to attempt the genuflexions and taper-burnings of the faithful.
The great glory of a Russian church is its music; music without benefit of accompaniment. The choir is invisible somewhere in a rear balcony. They sing out the responses when the priest pauses in his intoning. Judging by the congregation, the choir would not be large, but the volume equals any city choir.
Russian church music is difficult to describe. It is distinctive. Once heard, it could not be mistaken for any other church singing. Is it instinctive or the result of long training? The shading is most remarkable. If you can imagine a peal of bells suddenly ceasing and the resonance or timbre continuing on until it fades, then you have something of the quality. At other times the voices harmonize like great chords from a pipe organ. There is a swelling quality alternating with a diminuendo effect that Russians do to perfection. The bass was especially remarkable.
Many times the priest with the beard swung the censor with its smoking incense. Every icon received its need of incense, not once, but many times. The swinging censor even descended among the congregation. In time the air became laden with the heavy scent.
Let us remember that the Russian’s reverence for religion goes far back into the dim past. The temporary suppression by the Bolsheviks is but a passing phase. The need of the Slav for religion is as old as his history. He will resume it again, perhaps with modification and a varied ritual, but he will come to it once more in his own country. His religion is essentially mystical and as such, it cannot be blotted out with argument.
The Russian has the characteristics of simplicity, a capacity for religion and suffering, and an inextinguishable fatalism. Even today, in this church established on a far, alien shore, the expression of the people is typically sad. It shows a resignation to whatever suffering fate may visit upon them. The Russian is not a joyous worshipper. As the great diapasons swell and fade from the invisible choir, one hears the sweep of lonely winds over the steppes. Darkness and cold and a land where winter dominates life - all this has touched Russian music with the spirit of melancholy.
As I look at the somber faces in this little church, I wonder if they are grateful for a freedom which allows them complete religious liberty. I wonder if they think of the millions of their brothers locked in a death struggle with other millions of the enemy.
The Russian church is reminiscent of old Russia. As I come out from the swirling incense, the deep-toned choir and the intoning of the priest in his gorgeous robes, I half expect a drozhky to be waiting at the door to whisk me across the frozen Neva to the ancient glories of the Winter Palace.
But no, it’s only Vancouver under its sunshine of Sabbath calm. Yet for two hours I have been absent in spirit, freed from the bondage of time and space.
FROM THE CANADIAN ORTHODOX CALENDAR, 1955:
The original Holy Resurrection Church in Vancouver, B.C. was started on 25 November 1928 and dedicated on 3 August 1929 by His Eminence Metropolitan Platon. That church had to be demolished in order to build a new bridge; and the Russian Orthodox Society of Vancouver started work on a new church. The cornerstone was laid on 27 December 1953 by the Most Rev. Nikon, Bishop of Toronto and Canada, and the Most Rev. John, Bishop of San Francisco.
In the spring of 1954 the new church building and church hall were completed, and on 8 May Archpriest Peter Kurzemnek, the rector, conducted the minor dedication in honor of the Holy Resurrection of Christ. The Great Dedication was conducted on 11 July 1954 by His Eminence Metropolitan Leonty, assisted by His Grace Bishop Nikon, archpriest Peter Kurzemnek, archpriest Paul Jeromsky of Seattle and other clergy from cities in western Canada and the USA.
The persons who contributed the most to the construction of the new Holy Resurrection church and church hall are: archpriest Peter Kurzemnek, rector; E. P. Rozvaliaeff, warden; Council of the Russian Orthodox Society: M. S. Sergeyeff – president; E. A. Andreyeff – vice-president; I. A. Vishniakoff – treasurer; A. Y. Adamovich – custodian; B. I. Shevelyoff – secretary; Building Commission: A. M. Boriskovich, K. F. Gorenko, N. P. Khrennikoff, P. S. Babich, N. F. Ivaschenko, A. A. Kochkanoff, E. A. Fetisoff, N. P. Abramoff, K. O. Diyeff.
The new Holy Resurrection Church is built in Russian style with three domes, of which the middle one has windows; it accommodates up to 450 people standing. The Church Hall has a big upper hall with a stage, a lower (dining) hall with a kitchen, a library, a Council meeting room and other rooms.
BENEATH THE ONION DOMESby Roy Montgomery, The Vancouver Sun, 14 Aug. 1954
Close by one of the mighty concrete footings of Vancouver’s new Granville Bridge lie the remains of the first Russian Orthodox church on the west coast of Canada. The completion of the building and its opening in 1929 by Archbishop Platon represented the culmination of years of hope and unselfish effort by the members of the first congregation and their priest, Antonin Pokrovsky.
Sad as the sight must be to the remaining members of the early band, as they turn away from the rubble and gaze on their splendid new church, they must admit that progress has been kind, and timely. With the congregation now numbering around 400, the former quarters were stretched to the limit and lack of facilities made social gatherings practically impossible.
The new building at Forty-third Avenue and Quebec was recently completed at a cost of some $70,000. This was made up partly from the compensation derived from the loss of the old church, which had to be removed to make way for the Granville Bridge, and partly from donations of the congregation. It is built in the traditional style of Russian Byzantine architecture, and it brings with it a flavor of the East, strange to most of us here. The style is characterized by the cupolas or onion-shaped domes and the long narrow arched windows, and is similar to many churches in the older towns and cities in Russia.
The long narrow windows, combined with those immediately below the central cupola, make the interior unexpectedly bright. The building was designed by Ross Lort, a Vancouver architect, who, though unfamiliar with the style, was assisted by members of the congregation who supplied him with photographs and other pertinent data.
To Western eyes the first striking feature inside the church is the complete absence of pews or other seating arrangements. It is the custom of the church that the congregation stands, with the exception of the sick and elderly for whom chairs are provided at the sides. Also conspicuous in its apparent absence is the altar. This is separated from the main body of the church by an iconostasis or screen on which are hung icons or holy pictures.
Behind the altar is a large icon depicting Christ’s descent into hell after the Resurrection to save the sinners. The man being raised to his feet is Adam, and the concentric circles represent the spheres of the earth, the center being the medieval idea of hell. This picture is a copy of an icon by the famed icon painter of the 15th century, Dionisius, and is the work of 79-year-old Ann von Kuegelgen of Oliver, B.C. Mrs. Von Kuegelgen, who originally came from Estonia, is a professional artist who studied icon painting in Finland, Poland, Germany and Britain during several flights to escape Communism. An exhibition of her work was held in the Vancouver Art Gallery last Christmas.
In the large Parish Hall, which adjoins the new church, are facilities to cater to the social side of the church life. There is the stage (one of the activities connected with the church is the folk dancing group under the leadership of Mrs. Pashkofsky, which regularly enters folk dancing festivals), and there too are the dining hall and kitchen and space for a future library.
The present congregation consists of people from Russia, the Ukraine, Yugoslavia, and other Eastern European countries. Some of them have lived in Vancouver many years and are engaged in practically every trade and profession. Others have come here more recently from China, having originally fled there from Communism in Russia, only to be forced to flee again.
All of them, the older members of the congregation and the new, have one thing in common. They share a pride in their new church, which was formally dedicated July 11 by His Eminence Leonty, Archbishop of New York, Metropolitan of North America, and three bishops from Toronto, San Francisco and Alaska.
THIS IS THE BISHOP WHO BAKES THE BREAD
Bishop Joasaph’s work is in the kitchen as well as the church By Audrey Fox The Vancouver Sun, June 15, 1974)
Rt.Rev. Bishop Joasaph is one of the strangest looking bakers in Vancouver. Few of his colleagues wear a silken skullcap, heavy maroon and black robes, a large gold cross and a terrycloth apron when they work.
But Bishop Joasaph (christened Stephen Antonyuk 75 years ago) bakes for the Russian Orthodox Church, 75 East Forty-third. As leader of the congregation, one of his many jobs is to prepare the church breads used to celebrate the Holy Eucharist during Sunday services.
In his 53 years as a clergyman in Siberia, China, Connecticut and Vancouver, Bishop Joasaph has had wide experience making the little biscuits of salt, yeast, flour and water. For the last seven years he has made the breads in his own kitchen, close to the church with its bright blue onion-domed top.
After gathering his ingredients and mixing the dough in a heavy-duty mixer, he uses a small utensil, similar to a doughnut cutter, to cut the bottom of the biscuit, then uses an even smaller one to cut out the top. Finally, with hand-carved wooden presses, he imprints designs on the top halves of each of the breads.
There are three designs used on the five loaves needed for each service. One represents the body of Jesus Christ, one the Virgin Mary and the third is in the form of a cross. Bishop Joasaph explained that five breads are used to symbolize the five loaves Jesus used to feed the multitudes.
During the Holy Eucharist, Bishop Joasaph cuts each of the breads in a different design, using special church knives for the job. For each cut made there is a special prayer. The first bread is cut in honor of Jesus Christ, the second for Mary, mother of Jesus, the third for saints, martyrs and all holy men, the fourth for Canada, Queen Elizabeth, the government, the armed forces and all Christians, and the fifth for people who have died.
“Every week I must make between 60 and 70 breads,” said Bishop Joasaph. “Five are used for the Holy Eucharist. For the others, I go to the church an hour before Mass to work on the breads. The people give the names of friends and relatives who have died or of people who are ill, and I pray for them with the breads”.
During the Last Supper, Christ said to His disciples: “Take eat. This is my body… This is my blood… This does in remembrance of me”. … It is one of the ironies of Christian history that the Eucharist, originally intended as a means of fostering unity of the Church, has been a source of disunity and contention. … Churches disagree on the mode of celebration, the sacramental presence, the effects of the Eucharist and the proper auspices under which it may be celebrated. The Christian churches agree, and agree to disagree, and the unity and disunity of the churches continue to be symbolized by the Eucharist, as they have been since the beginnings of Christianity.
FROM RUSSIANS IN CANADA, 1954The immigration from Russia to North America started soon after the Crimean War. The Canadian census of 1931 lists 88,140 as Russians in Canada. The first considerable body were Mennonites who settled in Manitoba in 1874-89. The second large group were over 7,000 Doukhobors who came to Western Canada in 1899. From 1899 to 1914 the number of Russian immigrants was relatively small.
In 1867 Alaska was sold to USA, and some of the Russians from Alaska settled in British Columbia.
RUSSIA IN VANCOUVERBy Eleanor Dooley, The Sunday Province, 1930
Vancouver has its colorful contingent of that great host of Russian refugees of the educated classes, which for the 13 years since the Communist government took hold in Russia, has wandered forth into the uttermost parts of the earth like the lost tribes of Israel.
Through the terrible picturesque ness of their plight they are vividly before the eyes of the world today, with the shifts to which they are put to earn their living by the roughest work with the courage and cheerfulness of which those who know them speak, with their recuperative faculties and their talents; men and women - “but please say particularly the women, they are so clever and so brave,” a Russian officer said to the writer.
All is not drab misery, broken fingernails and the gizzards of fowls for the White Russians of Vancouver. They have their social events, at which they compare notes over their experiences. It is the fashion to do dirty work and to laugh about it, which makes things very much easier.
Professors, lawyers, judges, soldiers, musicians are working as mechanics, house plasterers, auto wreckers; or, if more fortunate, as engineers and contractors. Some open little art stores and carpenters’ shops and have to close again; they understand they are victims of the general situation.
Russians of the educated classes are farming on Lulu Island, having failed in many cases on the prairies owing to lack of guidance and poor crops. Clever specialists are almost certain to find their niche in the West, given time.
The Veteran Association of the Great War in Paris has two affiliated branches in
Vancouver. This association also acts as an information agency for Russians
abroad. The Ataman of the Cossacks in Vancouver is Mr. Krivzoff, who presides
over a mutual aid and fellowship society conducted in accordance with old
Cossack traditions.