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October
6, 2010
Jackson, NJ:
Services in St. Vladimir Memorial Church on the Fortieth Day of the
Repose of Archpriest Boris Kizenko
On Tuesday,
October 5, a Liturgy for the Departed was served in St. Vladimir
Memorial Church for the 40th day of the repose of Archpriest Boris
Kizenko. Diocesan secretary Archpriest Serge Lukianov celebrated the
Liturgy, co-served by deputy rector Priest Serge Ledkovsky and parish
Deacon Paul Drozdowski. Upon completion of the Liturgy, New Jersey
Dean Protopresbyter Valery Lukianov served a panihida for Fr. Boris,
co-served by Archpriest Alexander Golubov and the above-mentioned
clergy. Also praying in church were Archpriest Philip Petrovsky and
Archdeacon Eugene Burbelo.
Memory eternal
to Archpriest Boris!
Protopresbyter
Valery Lukianov’s Eulogy at the Funeral of Archpriest Boris Kizenko
August
31, 2010
In
the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit!
When
a person is born, his first act is to cry. At that same time, his
family and their friends rejoice and exult in the new person born into
the world. We will return to this thought at the end of my eulogy.
The
newly reposed Archpriest Boris Kizenko was born in Kharkov in 1926 on
the feast of the Holy Equal-of-the-Apostles Prince Vladimir, to a
faithful family steeped in the traditions of old. Of course, this
child, as his life in Russia showed us, received an excellent, moral
upbringing. He was born crying, and there was much for the Russian
people to cry about during this terrible time of the triumph of
satanic powers, which under the banner of "a new era" sought
to sweep away everything holy in Russia, the very wellsprings of
Russian history and culture, resolved to destroy the people’s faith
in God. How was a patriotic, faithful Russian family to live in the
face of these atrocities? The only path was to protect themselves from
evil and secretly preserve their faith. The boy’s parents chose not
to call him Vladimir, as during these days – a time of universal
sycophantism – every fifth child came to be named, in honor of the
"great leader," whose pseudonym it is best not to utter
within the walls of a holy church. And so they named the child Boris,
in honor of St. Vladimir’s son.
When young Boris
turned one year old, almost that very day, the tragic, difficult times
in the relationship between the faithful and the Soviet government
began. So flowed then the torrents of blood of Russia’s best and brightest
– clergy, monastics, and laymen – who at the turn of the 21st
century would be glorified as the New Martyrs and Confessors of
Russia. Churches and monasteries were annihilated, and Russia’s
ancient monuments destroyed. That the conscience of the ascendant
godless might not be stirred, Russia’s mighty bells were smashed to
pieces. Following the martyrs were writers, poets, artists, composers
– all those who desired to think freely and with honor.
And
so first the child, then the adolescent, Boris grew up in these brutal
surroundings. What strong convictions one must have in order to
preserve one’s love and devotion to the Russian classics of the 18th
and 19th centuries in schools where reading them was not without risk.
But so it was that, despite the insidious times, he was fortified in
the spirit of the moral testaments of our favorite writers. He
especially loved Russian poetry, many passages of which he knew by
heart and had committed to memory until the day that he died. His most
beloved authors were Pushkin, Lermontov, and Gogol – it was with
great enthusiasm that he loved to quote Taras Bulba: "There was a
man!" Father Boris would say, gladly taking the opportunity to
bear witness to the distinguished significance of one of Russia’s
literary geniuses. Speaking of poetry, our travels to pastoral
conferences and other church gatherings come to mind. We
traveled
in
groups.
Father
Boris would entertain us the whole way there and back with tales of
everyday life, singing Russian patriotic songs, and reciting poems,
all of which poured from within him as from a cornucopia.
At
the end of the Second World War, Boris Ivanovich had already taken
shape as an honest and deeply religious man. His whole family traveled
the difficult path of Russia’s exiles, a path of sufferings and
hardships brought on by the forced abandonment of their homes, the
flight into the unknown, and the iniquity and devastation surrounding
them. Fate deposited these refugees in the Displaced Persons camps in
Germany, where the whole family came under the spiritual guidance of
the renowned Father Adrian Rymarenko. Young Boris found work with the
Americans, as a result of which he was able to help supply Fr.
Adrian’s community with food. His spiritual ties with the elder
continued upon his arrival in America, where Kizenko settled first on
the Hudson River in the village of Nyack, later moving to the convent
at Novo-Diveevo. This was his first step toward the priestly calling,
and he soon made haste to Holy Trinity Monastery in Jordanville, where
he entered the seminary. It was then that I met him; it was my first
visit to the monastery. The merry seminarian Boris was assigned to
show me around the monastery, and he gladly helped acquaint me with
the life and sights of the monastery. So it was that we became friends
60 years ago, for life.
Having
married his humble and intelligent future matushka, Tamara Plyshevsky,
who came from a pious family that had been persecuted for the faith,
Boris was ordained a deacon and priest. Once a priest, Fr. Boris
served many places – in Syracuse, Michigan, Vineland – but he
ultimately stopped midway through his priestly service in the
marvelous Memorial Church of St. Vladimir. Here he wholeheartedly took
upon himself labors for the benefit of the church and parish –
fortunately, he was a hard worker. He rarely took any vacations.
First
and foremost, by the labors of the renowned Archimandrite Cyprian, the
church frescoes were completed. Then came the construction of a
rectory, whereas before the family had been confined to a little
cottage. Finally, Fr. Boris built a wonderful church hall, where
parishioners could now gather, talk, hold meetings and shows, as well
as luncheons. Fr. Boris labored in this parish for twenty-five years,
and for his good works, fifteen years ago he was awarded a miter.
Who
was Fr. Boris as a person? We all remember his truly pastoral
countenance, and that countenance will be remembered forever by those
who knew him. This was a kind man, cheerful and loving, who
co-suffered with those in infirmities. It was always very interesting
holding a discussion with him, as he was an erudite and inquisitive
priest, possessing of an exceptional memory and able to freely quote
passages from the works of both religious and secular authors. When
one thinks about the distinguished character of this affectionate man,
one wishes to use the words of I.A. Ilyin and say that Fr. Boris was a
man with a singing heart or the soul of a child. It was this singing heart that created his
special internal melodiousness, and that marvelous, peaceful symphony
in his and around him spread to everyone, calling forth smiles and
joyful feelings. Rarely does one meet such people, in whom this gift
radiates so naturally, without even a hint of insincerity.
We
saw Father at every church conference and gathering. He would come
early, armed with a notebook and pen, bespectacled, and would take a
seat in the front row in order to hear better, and would be all ears.
He would quickly write virtually every word and, when the speaker
would conclude, Fr. Boris would be the first to raise his hand:
"Your Grace, may I have a word?" after which would follow
either a question, or a clarification, or an example from his own
experiences. This
would
go
on
for
decades.
We,
his co-brothers, grew accustomed to this and saw in him a desire to
learn and be involved in the life of the Church, to be an active
participant in it, to share the joys and sorrows of our life in the
Church.
Fr.
Boris needs not worry about his children and grandchildren – they
are all in the church, all are tied together in familial friendship,
all labor honestly, all are of a friendly, joyful disposition. Here is
an example: Yesterday, after the evening service for the departed, Fr.
Boris’ son, Subdeacon Seraphim, called me: "Batushka, I wanted
to share something with you. I returned home from service today after
bidding farewell to my father. I didn’t cry. For me it was like a
feast, and I feel a real Paschal joy. I wanted to let you know."
Yes, Sima, this is undoubtedly a feast for all of us – a celebration
of good’s victory over evil, faith’s victory over doubt, the
triumph of love over malice.
"The
wind returneth
again according to his circuits" (Ecclesiastes 1:6) – and it is
time for us to imagine ourselves back in Kharkov in 1926. Then there
was the cry of an infant and the joy of a family, but today everything
is changing places: we, as one spiritual family, are in tears, while
Father, as an infant, is joyfully being born in the habitation of his
Heavenly Father. We believe this because in Fr. Boris we saw a man who
led a righteous life, helped his neighbors, and put the faithful on
the path to salvation. Let us pray for his soul and try to imitate
him, while the Lord gives us time to labor and be transformed.
Today
we send off our co-brother and father, and for all of us, both clergy
and laymen, this is truly a source of inspiration, a call to acquire a
spiritual, kind, and peaceful sentiment, to be loving, joyful, and
thankful to God, transmitting the Lord’s truth to all people, that
we all together, in common prayer and mutual love, might enter into
the Kingdom of Heaven.
Amen.
Photo-montage
of Fr. Boris Kizenko
Media Office of the Eastern American
Diocese
See
Also
September 1, 2010
Jackson,
NJ: Bishop Jerome led the funeral of Archpriest Boris Kizenko
August
27, 2010
Jackson,
NJ: Archpriest Boris Kizenko has reposed in the Lord
