I First Met the young Hieromonk John Maximovitch at the beginning of his ecclesiastical career. We maintained contact from 1928 through 1934, that is, until he left for the Far East to be Bishop of Shanghai. I saw him again during the final, brief period of his service as Archbishop of Western America and San Francisco (1963-66). Thus, I was a witness, as it were, of both the first and last phases of Vladika's pastoral life.
I met Vladika John in the summer of 1928, during the school holidays. Not quite twelve years old, I was studying at the Russian secondary school in Belgrade, and had entered the third form. I served in the altar of Holy Trinity Church, which at that time was the main cathedral of the Russian Church Abroad. In this church there often served the head of the Church Abroad, Metropolitan Anthony, and other archpastors of the Diaspora. One Sunday, there were not enough acolytes, and one of the subdeacons (I think it was Ivan Gardner) recruited me. Vladika John, like most young people close to the Church, loved and revered Metropolitan Anthony as a great Church leader; he was for him an inimitable example in his personal life, a living embodiment of meekness, humility and love. He spoke to me of this more than once, knowing that I also loved and respected Metropolitan Anthony. Vladika John followed the reposed Metropolitan's example in many respects, especially in his personal interactions, which were simple, direct, spontaneous, often affectionate, and, it seemed, with a light southern Russian humor.
Our acquaintance began very simply. After one of the services, Vladika asked me my name and where I lived. On learning that I lived not far from him, or to be exact, from the house where his parents lived, he invited me to walk home with him. From 1929 to 1934, Vladika taught at the theological seminary in Bitol, in southern Serbia, and only in summer, during school holidays, did he live with his parents in Belgrade. Later, when I myself became a teacher at a secondary school, I understood why Vladika was so successful as a teacher in the seminary, in spite of a speech impediment. He was not only an excellent pedagogue (he knew how to adapt his methods to the age and maturity of his class), but he also loved his students, who repaid his love. In conversation, Vladika loved to bring up many examples from the lives of the saints, which made his discourse more vivid and familiar. It was easy to turn to him for advice, and one was always sure of receiving a clear and concise answer. From then on, I always walked home with him, grew closer to him, and grew to love him.
I had an opportunity to meet his parents, whom I occasionally saw in church. During the services they seemed strict, especially his mother, but later I discovered that they were kind, warm people. Vladika did not resemble them in appearance; judging by one photograph, however, he bore an amazing resemblance to one of his ancestors (I think it was his great-great-grandfather), who died in 1873, Michael Alex. Maximovitch, and in whose honor, most likely, Vladika was named at his baptism. His ancestor was a great scholar, a kind of Renaissance man; he was not only an educated botanist and zoologist, but also an expert in the history of Russian literature, a philosopher, and a master of Little Russian folklore. He was first a professor of botany, and then of Russian philology. He was also rector of the University of Kiev. In his youth he was acquainted with Pushkin and Gogol. Another well-known ancestor of Vladika John was the Metropolitan of Tobolsk, Saint John (Maximovitch), enlightener of western Siberia, who reposed during the reign of Peter the Great. In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the Maximovitch were well-known nobility, landowners of the Poltava region. Vladika himself graduated from the Poltava Cadet Corps. Vladika's parents later lived in Kharkov. His father was for a short time a Marshal of the Kharkov nobility, and Vladika himself finished law school there. During his student years, Vladika met the distinguished Archbishop Anthony [Khrapovitsky] of Kharkov, later Metropolitan of Kiev, who had a strong influence on him. It should be noted that the most ancient ancestors of Vladika John were Serbian nobility, who left their native land after its conquest by the Turks at the end of the fifteenth century. (One might note here that Tsar Ivan the Terrible's maternal grandmother, Princess Elena Glinsky, was also one of the Serbian nobility refugees.) Vladika John loved very much the Orthodox Serbian people and Serbia, as did the entire Russian émigré population in Yugoslavia. The latter consisted primarily of former Russian military and their families, and, in general, of the Russian intelligentsia.
Thirty years later, as Archbishop of San Francisco and Western America, Vladika John would visit our parish in Seattle. On the first day of his visit he invariably stopped by to see me, since I lived just opposite the church. He would come into my room, in a half-basement apartment, where there was a separate entrance from the garden. Sometimes he would come by several times, during the day and in the evening. He would sit in an armchair and rest. Sometimes he remained silent; at other times he would begin talking right away. He would recall our Russian Belgrade, his Abba, Metropolitan Anthony. Vladika loved and knew Russian history well, and it was interesting to listen to him. Like Metropolitan Anthony, he was politically conservative and a monarchist. He believed in the rebirth of Russia. He was indulgent towards other people's shortcomings, forgiving; he never judged. When I asked him an awkward question regarding the unpleasantness in San Francisco in connection with the construction of the cathedral, he immediately "fell asleep" for a few minutes; I never brought up the subject again. Sometimes Vladika would abruptly change the course of our conversation and bring up various family matters which might be troubling me, matters I hadn't told him about. One could confide in him; his advice was always simple and straightforward.
On Saturday, July 2,1966, Vladika came and sat with me for about forty-five minutes. He was supposed to go with the wonder-working Kursk Icon to a certain ill person, and then on to Canada. When I asked him whether he would stop by again during this trip, he responded briefly: "God only knows what will happen with me today or tomorrow." I accompanied him across the street into the church building, where George Kalfov was waiting for him. George and I stayed downstairs, while Vladika went up to his room. A short while later we heard a loud thud from upstairs. We ran up to Vladika's room and saw him lying on the floor. We helped him up and sat him in his armchair. When we asked what had happened, he answered: "I don't know; nothing like this ever happened to me." At that moment, Vladika experienced a slight shudder through his body, and then left us forever. The paramedics whom we called from the neighboring block confirmed his death, which had been quick and easy. The ruling hierarch of Seattle at that time, Bishop Nektary, and the rector, Archpriest Andrei Nakonechny (now both reposed) served a panikhida right there in Vladika's room, and again, after the body was placed in a coffin, inside the church itself. On the following day, Vladika's body was already in San Francisco.
Such was my last meeting with Vladika John, whom I knew and loved for forty years. And now, twenty-five years after his death, I still feel his loss very much. When I visit the sepulchre where Vladika now lies, I always turn to him for help and advice.
Yury K.Khruschoff