Traitors all the same...
The precentor of the hierarchical choir of the theological seminary and academy, Archimandrite Roman (Podlubniak), was, like all our native precentors, at once very kind and very strict. As a gifted man, he was quick-tempered and quick to forgive. In our precentor there was always joined professionalism and indulgence, anger and humour, discipline and gentleness. And so during a service he could raise his voice, strike the lectern or even slap a chorister on the shoulder if he had sung a wrong note. This caused no offence among the choristers, especially if it was not you who had been slapped but your neighbour at the other end of the choir — that was even amusing. Father Roman was very funny when he was angry. Good-naturedly so. Sometimes one simply wonders how such things can be joined in one man.
"You are traitors! Is it so hard to sing this sticheron following my hand? Is it so hard — I ask you?!! You know, there is a boys' choir called 'Dzvinochok'; well, you are the boys' choir 'Pustozvon'!"
At first we kept silent from surprise and fright, and even began to murmur among ourselves, when a few seconds later someone from the depths of the bass part timidly said:
"Father Roman, but you yourself told us to sing it differently..."
"Did I?" — our precentor softened instantly and began to recall it, while we meanwhile brightened up joyfully that the fault was not ours.
"Quite right! Forgive me, brothers, it is my fault," said Father Roman; he came out from behind the precentor's lectern and made a prostration before the whole choir.
And then he rose and added, as always, "sternly-cheerfully": "But you are traitors all the same! Because if I go wrong, it upsets me; if you go wrong, it upsets me too; but for you, if I go wrong, it is a joy! So you are traitors all the same!" — the precentor emphasised with a good-natured smile on his face.
The road to the precentorship
The Divine Liturgy in the Dormition cathedral of the Kyiv Caves Lavra. Immediately after the opening exclamation I am overwhelmed, seized, struck by the incredibly beautiful singing of the choir of the theological academy and seminary under the direction of Archimandrite Roman (Podlubniak). They are singing the Great Litany to the chant of the Kyiv Caves Lavra. It is something unearthly! The waves of sound of the bass part sweep over you so that the soul wants to weep for tenderness. I remain under the impression until the end of the service and resolve to go up to the precentor and ask to join the choir. I had dreamed of this for a long time, but could never bring myself to it, all these empty doubts.
After the dismissal I go up to the icon on the central analogion with a prayer and a thought: if I now meet the precentor Father Roman, then away with doubts, it is God's will, I shall ask. I kiss the icon, turn round and see Father Roman coming towards me. At once I go to him with my question. Of course, it is a little frightening. This is, after all, the precentor of one of the finest choirs of our Church! How can one not be afraid?! But here there is plainly God's Providence. To my surprise Father Roman answered very simply, good-naturedly and with an immediate consent. If you have a musical education, he says, then come. I have one: I finished the studio attached to the National Bandura Players' Capella of Ukraine. I come out of the church as though I had flown out on wings! He did not even mention an audition — straight into the choir!
And so a week later comes my first service in the choir under the direction of Archimandrite Roman (Podlubniak). With trepidation I make my way through the crowd of seminarian choristers to receive the precentor's blessing. Father Roman blessed me like an old good friend, and at once it became somehow easier and my agitation settled. The feelings one has from taking part in this work cannot be conveyed in words. The Great Church of the Lavra and the choir in which I had long dreamed of singing! I do not know whether I was in the body or out of the body, but it seemed to me that I was hearing unutterable words...
Father Roman captivated one by his personality, by his charm. He was a very educated, well-read, inwardly developed and cultivated man, and at the same time very simple in conversation. He at once won one over. He never gave himself airs and never showed his superiority. And his sense of beauty was conveyed in every gesture, in every word, in every sweep of his hand. It is astonishing how simplicity and refinement were joined in him.
He could raise his voice, he could knock you on the shoulder if someone went wrong, but no one took offence, because in the first place it was always deserved, and in the second Father Roman was utterly without malice, and so his anger was taken as the anger of one's own loving father.
And he also had a very fine sense of humour. His "gems" were remembered by the choristers for a long time and passed from mouth to mouth.
But the chief thing is how Father Roman made the music of the service. Every service was an experience!
I particularly remember the service of all the saints of the Caves on the second Sunday of Great Lent. I did not know where I was, in Heaven or on earth. In the first place, the service was in the Exaltation of the Cross church, which stands above the Near Caves. A service to saints whose relics lie quite close by! And in the second place, how our precentor was able to attune us in those minutes. I was overflowing! And after the end of the Divine Liturgy there was a procession to the Far Caves, when at the end of the moleben we thundered out with all our might: Holy Rus, keep the Orthodox faith, wherein is thy confirmation! After the end of the celebration I could not come to myself for a long time from the impressions I had lived through. Joy tore my soul in every direction!
The second service that I particularly remember is the one when the so-called eviction of the monks from the Lavra began. It was the first of April 2023. Since many aggressive "activists" had come to the entrance of the monastery, it was decided to serve the all-night vigil out of doors beside the barrier. Three choirs sang: ours, the hierarchical choir under the direction of Archimandrite Herontii, and the choir of the precentors' school from the Rivne region, which had come in support of the monks of the Lavra. We sang into microphones, while from the other side of the barrier they shouted slogans into a loudspeaker. At first this was more or less tolerable. Three choirs with a host of clergy did after all sound convincing. But some 15 minutes after the beginning of the service a vehicle with a very powerful sound system drove up to help the activists.
We were drowned out. The sound from the other side was so strong that we could hardly even hear one another, let alone hear the exclamations of the clergy. We could barely make out the precentor's pitch. To be honest, we were even a little disheartened by this turn of things. But soon our own people also bestirred themselves and brought up more powerful amplifiers, so that the sound on our side came to roughly the same level. This heartened us a little. From that installation out in the street there poured strange accusations addressed to us, for some reason instructions were given on how to surrender to Belarusian soldiers, various insults and so on. We had to listen to this, although our singing in three choirs of course only sounded the more genuine for it. The undoubted presence of God was felt. It was as though the Church stood surrounded by the powers of Hell, not figuratively but really. From that side there came one phrase besides which stuck firmly in my memory: "I shall be here with you (the man said into the loudspeaker) if need be 24 by seven!" Well, I think, with such a presence one might go out of one's mind — twenty-four by seven he will be haranguing us with his lying speeches that make the earth shake. The thing is that the sound really was so powerful that it vibrated in the chest. Now he would talk some nonsense, now he would put on songs, now he would shout slogans. It was very hard and it went on without pauses practically to the end of the vigil (that is, practically three hours), but some fifteen minutes before the end, for some reason, this insane haranguing ceased. At first I did not know what had happened, but on the second day I read in the news that an ambulance had taken that man from the sound installation, lifeless...
***
Then came Pascha... a firework of joy and grace! We sang the Paschal canon to the Lavra chant. The kliros, like the whole Exaltation of the Cross church, was packed full. We stood practically without the possibility of moving, the sweat ran in streams, but grace also came down in torrents. Behind us were the painted walls, which had also "broken into a sweat", and behind the head of one of the singers a trickle of condensation ran down. Father Roman looked at this atmospheric phenomenon by the head of our bass and said with a smile: Oh! He is streaming myrrh already!
And after Pascha Father Roman began to appear at the services less and less. It was plain that he was troubled by something. I knew nothing at all. At the Ascension he was not there. We sang then in the church of the venerable Agapit the physician of the Caves. On the Sunday after the Ascension my friends decided to go to the Divine Liturgy also in a church of the venerable Agapit, but in the one in Pushkin Park. Since Father Roman had not been at the vigil on the Saturday, I thought that he would hardly be at the Liturgy either, and decided to go with my friends.
At the end of the service the rector of that church came out onto the ambo and informed the parishioners that for the time being there would be no early Liturgies in their parish, since there was no precentor — she had gone abroad. My friends began to nudge me: you could help, they said. I had long been acquainted with the rector and had been to that parish; he was not a stranger to me. So I decided that I might indeed offer my help. I went up to the rector and was gladly accepted for the precentor's service. And three days later Father Roman departed to the Lord. I took my new ministry as the Providence of God and a blessing from my Precentor and Teacher. In my life I know only two churches of the venerable Agapit of the Caves: in one I sang, in the other I became a precentor.
Yes, I had sung much in other churches before this and had tried my hand at conducting. And in fact I sang under Father Roman's direction for a relatively short time. But now I look at church music as it were through his eyes, I still learn from him and ask his support as of one living. The Kingdom of Heaven to a Great Teacher!
The lady primate
One day we were preparing to sing the Divine Liturgy on the square by the Near Caves. We had begun to serve here on the great feasts, after the museum forbade us the use of the Dormition and Refectory cathedrals.
Usually we were placed to one side of an improvised sanctuary, that is, the altar table was as it were between us and the faithful. Not far from us there stood a thin, tall nun, and in such a position that she was practically as it were on the High Place, not even to one side as we were, but straight in the centre opposite the Altar. Father Roman was greatly astonished at this disposition and went over to her to say that she must not stand here and should move to the other side, to the laypeople.
A minute later our precentor came back irritated and said that the nun had begun to grumble that she had always stood so in the Dormition cathedral, although there, of course, she could by no means have stood so. After this short exchange the nun moved a little, but not much, a couple of steps to the side. Clearly the dialogue had not gone well; practically nothing had changed. Father Roman glanced at her with displeasure, but did not know what to do.
And just then Father Polikarp, an archimandrite, the precentor of the brotherhood choir, passes by. Seeing our precentor, he turns aside to Father Roman; three times they greet one another with a brotherly kiss, and joke a little as always. Everyone knows Archimandrite Polikarp; he is one of the first monks to settle in the Lavra after its opening in 1988, and so he enjoys respect and authority. But most of all he is loved for his open, sincere nature and his genuine Ukrainian sense of humour. His sharp word can defuse any tense situation. In a word, a colourful personality!
Suddenly an idea dawned on our precentor: "Father Polikarp, can you go and shift this nun? She is standing here on top of us." Father Polikarp calmly answers: "That one? One moment," and without hesitation set off on the counter-offensive. Father Roman turns back to us with such an enigmatic look that it is immediately noticeable — with his bodily eyes he is looking at us, but with his whole inner being he has gone off together with Polikarp, and he said: "If Polikarp does not overcome her, then no one will overcome her!"
After a minute of good-natured conversation between Father Polikarp and the nun, the latter, defeated, set off for the other side of the square; Father Roman breathed out with relief and turned to his brother with a bow of thanks. The super-agent had not let him down...
A blessing for the cassock
I have had a cassock for a long time now. Since I teach on the theological courses, the rector of the courses gave his blessing for me to come to lectures in a cassock. But to wear it in church a bishop's blessing is needed. So I put it on only for lectures. In the seminary choir under the direction of Archimandrite Roman I also did not dare to put on the "uniform" without a blessing. When everyone sings on the kliros it is permitted, but there are moments when the choir comes together to sing in the middle of the church, and then to come out without a cassock is not allowed, so as not to spoil the picture.
And now one of those moments comes, and Father Roman addresses me in quiet, kindly words, so as not to offend me by any chance: "Oleksii, stay on the kliros for now, because we are going out to sing in the middle of the church; if only you had a cassock..." I timidly answer: "But I do have one..." Father Roman, astonished: "Then why do you not wear it?" "I have no blessing from a bishop to wear it in church; I have only worn it at the courses." Father Roman's tone changed at once to the tone a teacher takes with a careless pupil: "Hm... perhaps you would like a blessing from the patriarch as well? Will an archimandrite's blessing suit you?" "As you bless, Father," I answer, smiling. "Next time see that you are in uniform," the precentor answered sternly and kindly at the same time, as always in his own style.
Oleksii Verhun-Fedorenko
P.S. Father Roman's winged words
- Basses, your sound is like something out of a transformer box, "e-e-e-e".
- You behave like the old women on the kliros who get up quarrels. There can be only one old woman here (points at himself with his finger), and all the rest must keep quiet.
- You are either cracked or idiots! Or cracked idiots! (said with a grin).
- That was not a Song of Ascents antiphon. That was a wild antiphon (after an antiphon sung badly).
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