Remembering Hieromonk Seraphim Rose on the feast (July 2) of his mentor and spiritual father, St John (Maximovitch), Archbishop of Shanghai and San Francisco
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| Fresco of St John Maximovitch, Brother José Munoz & Fr Seraphim Rose, Holy Dormition Church in northern Moscow, Russia. |
In a new article advocating for the glorification of Blessed Father Seraphim (which I intend to cover more in a future post), I came across this important affirmation:
Another theme we see with saints, often times they come in pairs. St. Gregory of Nyssa was a disciple under his brother St. Basil the Great. St. Augustine was the disciple of St. Ambrose of Milan. St. Justin Popovich was the disciple of St. Nikolai Velimirovich. St. Sophrony was the disciple of St. Silouan the Athonite. St. Ephraim was the disciple of St. Joseph the Hesychast. There’s countless more examples.
Who was Fr. Seraphim Rose a disciple of? St. John Maximovitch.
The connections between St John and Fr Seraphim began early in then Eugene's life in the Orthodox Church:
“Gleb, as we have seen, had been much more privileged than Eugene in having known a whole host of great “living links” with Orthodox tradition. In December of 1962, however, Eugene met the greatest of them all: the future Saint, Archbishop John Maximovitch. Interestingly, Archbishop John arrived in San Francisco one year to the day after Eugene had first met Gleb: the Feast of the Entrance of the Mother of God into the Temple.” [1]
After Archbishop John's arrival in San Francisco, “Eugene was immediately aware of the change." As Hieromonk Damascene describes it in his epic biography of Father Seraphim:
When he attended services in the Cathedral, he saw the new bishop wholeheartedly taking part, sometimes pulling out services to relatively unknown saints, especially those of Western European lands. There was something unearthly in this tiny, bent-over old man, who by worldly standards seemed hardly “respectable.” Archbishop John’s hair was unkempt, his lower lip protruded, and he had a speech impediment that made him barely intelligible. He sometimes went about barefoot, for which he was severely criticized. Instead of the glittering, jeweled mitre worn by other bishops, he wore a collapsible hat pasted with icons embroidered by his orphans. His manner was at times stern, but a playful gleam could often be seen in his eyes, especially when he was with children. Despite his speech problem, he had a tremendous rapport with children, who were absolutely devoted to him... [2]
