Beasts in Cassocks: The Crimes of the Heads of the Russian Greek Catholic Orthodox Church in America/Chapter 1

by John Feoktist Dudikoff

MY CONFESSION

By FATHER JOHN F. DUDIKOFF

 

CHAPTER I.

The clergy are puzzled and are seeking the cause for the people's ever-growing rebellion against priests and the Church.

From childhood on we were taught reverence for priests and the Church rites and sacraments. We were told that in order to reconcile our souls with ourselves, to purify the inner man in us, it was necessary to confess at least once a year, particularly before the Great Lent. We were told that at the confessional one could tell of his most secret sins and that the priest-confessor would rather die than betray what was confided to him at the confessional. We were also told that there was a Church canon, according to which a priest who betrayed the secrets of a confession would be prohibited from officiating at services, would be subject to public penance in a monastery, and would even be unfrocked. People, believing this, used to go to the confession to share with their spiritual Father the tormenting secrets of their hearts. This they did to obtain relief, to make peace with their souls.

At one time a rumor was circulated to the effect that a priest receiving a confession disclosing revolt against the Czar or against the Government, was under obligation to report this to the authorities. Little by little, the people grew cool to the confessional, and later on ceased "confessing" altogether. The priests, in order to compel people to come to confession, resorted to force. They summoned to their aid the police, the administration, etc. If a man did not come to confession for three years in succession, the Father or his deacon would come to him with threats. After that the police would be sent. The man would be dragged from one court to another, etc. All this used to take place in the "good" old, fortunately, never to return, time in Russia.

In America, our missionaries, in order to curry favor with the authorities, made it a point to find out, through the medium of the confessional, how much money one had, what his political views were, etc. In doing this, the "Authorities in Cowls" made such clever use of the information thus obtained that the money of the person confessed would be transferred to the bottomless pockets of the Platons and Alexanders, and those who confessed would be deported to Russia and, not infrequently, would land in prison or be dispatched ad patres outright.

It seemed that with the advent of the Russian Revolution this practice would become part of a horrible tradition. It seemed that particularly in free America, our missionaries would reform with the Czar's fall, that for the sake of purging their consciences, for the sake of cleansing the Church and its rites which they themselves had polluted, they would begin to lead honest lives and would cease to make use of the sacraments and rites of the Church exclusively for their own personal ends and those of their superiors. The Fathers, however, seem to have sunk in this routine like drunkards in drunkenness, and cannot possibly mend their ways. Their present mode of life has penetrated into their blood and will surely be transmitted to the tenth, if not the twentieth, generation. As an illustration, I will cite what happened to me.

Early in May, 1914, having ferretted out that I had in my possession a little money which I had earned by hard labor, Archbishop Platon, who is now calling himsef the Metropolitan of Edessa, sent to me his right hand, Archpresbyter John Slunin, asking and imploring me to deposit my money for safe-keeping at the Mission Bank, located at the Consistory at East 97th Street, New York. Father Slunin assured me that at the Mission Bank my money would be safer than in any other bank, that I would be given a receipt with a guarantee that the money, with interest accrued, would be returned to me on demand, even though I should call for it at, say, one o'clock at night. Having taken the word of the spiritual Father who was supposed to be preaching against gain, against the appropriation of another's property, about the tortures which await one for theft and deceit, etc., etc., I brought my savings to the East 97th Street Consistory, and in the presence of Brother Boris Sochko, deposited for safe-keeping $2,800.00 and gave $5,000.00 for twenty shares of the Oil Field Company, which has its oil wells between the Caspian and the Azov Seas. The par value of these shares is $42,000. The entire sum, $7,800.00 was handed to Archpresbyter John Slunin, secretary to Archbishop Platon, in the presence of Platon himself. The latter who witnessed the money being counted out, told me that he, the "Saintly Prelate," himself, vouched for its return, with his head, conscience and the salvation of his "turbulent" soul.

I had $300.00 left with me. Father Slunin and Father Chepelev, his assistant, invited me, in token of gratitude for having done the will of His Grace, the Archbishop, Father Platon, to have dinner with champagne, etc., etc., at one of the most expensive New York restaurants. But—I, myself, had to pay for the dinner because when the bill was handed to us both Fathers, after a vain search through their pockets, declared that they had forgotten to take along money. After this dinner, I landed at the Bellevue Hospital where I spent a very long time. On my discharge from the hospital I went to the Consistory on East 97th Street to get my receipt, guarantee, etc., etc., as I was promised. Imagine my astonishment and anger, when I was told in reply to my demand that Archbishop Platon and Archpresbyter Slunin, his right hand, had disappeared, no one knew where. I went to Archpresbyter, Father Peter Kokhannik, for advice, but he told me he could not give me any counsel. …

I then left in quest of "His Grace" Archbishop Platon and of Archpresbyter John Slunin. I found both in Russia, in all their glory and greatness. I am not going to tell in detail here how I had repeatedly made my lawful demand for the repayment of my money. It will make very interesting reading and I will describe it another time. I will only say that in September, 1918, I made my demand to Platon at the Moscow Church Conclave and had witnesses in the person of Metropolitan Benjamin of Petrograd, the Bishops Constantine, Mitrophan and many others; and also in the apartment of Patriarch Tikhon. Platon promised me in the Patriarch's presence to pay me everything, to a cent, "to-morrow." When I came to see Platon "to-morrow," it turned out that he had vanished like smoke. "God's servant" was no longer in Moscow.

Upon inquiry, I learned that the Archbishop escaped by express train to Kiev. I could do nothing else but go after him. I did find Platon in Kiev. but the preacher of Kingdom Come had prepared such a trap for me that I shall not forget it to my dying day. Platon turned out to be an intimate friend and confidential daviser of the creature of the Germans, Hetman Skoropadsky who, in consideration of "special services" which Platon had rendered him during his negotiations with the Germans, promised him the Patriarchate of Kiev and of all of Little and Great Ukraine. At the instigation of the Archbishop and at the order of the Autocrat Hetman Skoropadsky and the "saintly Prelate" Platon, I was arrested and thrown into jail, where I was subjected to the most horrible tortures. My poor, unfortunate babies (one an infant of two and one-half years and the other one and one-half years) were hacked up by Haidamaks (Ukrainian soldiers). Thus the "saintly" Platon deprived me not only of my money, but of my children as well.

After my imprisonment caused by Platon and Skoropadsky, I found Prelate Platon in this country in the very Consistory on East 97th Street where I had given him and Father Slunin, as heads of the institution, my savings. I came here with the sole object of getting back my deposit.

Early in November, 1921, I called at the Consistory where I found not Platon but another "Saintly Prelate" who, as is known, dislikes roast beef, but is very fond of flesh, particularly if it belongs to the female sex, and who also is not averse to males whom he can use for purposes of his own, This was none other than Bishop Alexander. Having heard me out, he told me to hand in a petition regarding the matter. When I did as ordered, he became infuriated and exclaimed "If you again dare to demand money of the Archbishop, I will have you arrested as a Bolshevik and deported to Russia."

Right there, in the Consistory, some "friends" gave me the following advice: "The well-known people's priest, Vladimir Richloy, lives in New York, on Madison Street. He is in the employ of Alexander and the Consistory. Get in touch with him, because he is a great favorite both with Alexander and with Platon himself. V. V. Buimistrov himself has the greatest reverence for him. Why, he was able to secure Buimistrov's promise to give him, as a gift, money for the purchase of the house which he, Father Vladimir, leased. This man can do anything for you, and you will get your money back to a cent."

I found Father V. Richlov at the address given me at the Consistory. In the presence of the Priest Father Vassily Ptashchuk, I tole Father Vladimir all about my trials and tribulations. Father Vladimir pretended to evince as much interest in me as my father or mother would have. He promised to aid me in everything, and showed me, in order to substantiate his claim, Platon's and Alexander's cards addressed to him. He also showed me papers in which he was addressed as "Bishop."

A couple of days later Father V. Richlov said to me: "You will get your money to a cent, but on one condition." I inquired about the condition. Richlov answered, "You see,—Metropolitan Platon has been appointed Patriarch of all Russia. As Patriarch he must be completely exonerated of all charges against him. Since both the clergy and laymen in Russia know about your affair, you must clear Platon of your accusations. In order to do that, you must copy and sign this written confession." At first T was stupefied, and then I asked Father Richlov: "Why, does the Greek-Orthodox Church permit such written confessions?" Richlov said: "Not only are written confessions permissible here in America, but at present they are required. It you don't sign this confession, you may bid farewell to your money as well as to all hope for my assistance."

Father Richlov handed me a rough draft of the "written confession" which I have preserved among my papers as documentary evidence. It was in the handwriting of Father Richlov himself and read as follows:

"Your Right Eminence, Bishop and Metropolitan Platon! Merciful Archpriest and Father! I herewith confess, as before the Lord God Himself and before your Eminence, that I have been guilty before you: 1) I confess in writing that I have never given you any money; 2) That I have insulted you in vain with my letters and personal calls in Russia and America. I attest that both you and I were dupes of unscrupulous men; 3) I entreat you on my bended knees to forgive me. I have suffered a nervous breakdown from the horrors of the Revolution. Bless me with your Holy Evangel, and may I learn to be humble and patient. Pardon me, the sinful and unworthy one, and I swear that to my dying day, I shall never make any more demands on you. Please pray with your holy orisons for me. Your Spiritual Son,

(Signed) . . ."

 

When I read through the "confession:" I was spellbound. FatherRichlov, seeing that I was at a loss, remarked: "If you don't sign this before a notary, not only will your money be withheld, but we will arrest and deport you to Russia, leaving your wife here as a hostage, or else …" Here Richlov took a card from his pocket and shoved it under my very nose. On the card I saw the following symbols: a skull, a revolver and, between them, a bomb. I stared at Father Richlov, and he added threateningly: "If you don't care to make a closer acquaintance with these, do as you are told."

I was in dire need at the time, especially since my wife was about to go to a lying-in hospital. I was without work, without money, without shelter. However, I did not get frightened at Richlov's threats. I had been in Russia during the war. Nevertheless, I was in a strange land, and did not know what to do. Father Richlov, seeing my hesitation, assumed a different tone. He swore, making the sign of the cross thrice, that he would not give my "Confession" to anyone until he should have received the cash in full, that he would not let anyone harm me, and that should Platon and Alexander refuse to return my money, he, Richlov, would appear in Court as a witness in my favor.

This latter promise of his produced its effect on me and, believing Father Richlov was telling the truth, I took the rough draft, copied and signed it before a notary and gave it to Father Richlov.

The next day I went with Father Richlov to get the money. Father Richlov told me to wait on Fifth Avenue and 97th Street, and himself went to the "Holy" Fathers. In a few minutes he came back and gave me a little book, saying: "The Metropolitan cannot receive you now. He is busy with General Semionov and Ambassador Bakhmetyev, but he sends you his blessings and this Holy Book of the Gospels." I took the book, opened it, and not finding any money in it, asked Richlov for it. He went back, and in about fifteen minutes brought me $200.00, which he handed me in an ice cream parlor on the corner of Fifth Avenue and 6th Street. He kept $20.00 "for his trouble" and assured me that he had not obtained all the money to-day for the sole reason that the Metropolitan was busy with Semionov, and that to-morrow the Metropolitan would give the rest of the money. "To-morrow," Father Richlov continued, "Platon is to get One Million Dollars from Bakhmetyev, and you will get all your money, both the sum you left for safe-keeping and the money you paid for the shares." But this "to-morrow" has lasted until this very day. And besides, Father Richlov continually threatens me, in Platon's name, with imprisonment in this country and deportation to Russia, and also adds: "Your confession is in the hands of Metropolitan Platon, and if you dare as much as utter a word about your money, you will land where no one will be able to find you. As for your money—you will never get it until your dying day."

I, John, son of Feoktist, Dudikoff, was born in the city of Moghilev, in the Government of Kamenetz-Podolsk, on March 30, 1887. My father, Feoktist Andreyevitch Dudikoff, was in the Holy Synod service, with the rank of Privy Councilor. He resigned from his post in 1911, after the assassination of Premier Stolypin and became manager of the estates of Prince Obolensky and Count Radziwil, which position he held until his death at the hand of bandits during the revolution.

I received my education at the Theological Seminary of the same city where, in 1909, I completed the full course of study. After

John F. Dudikoff and His Wife, Mary M. Dudikoff, By
Birth Bogdanoff, Before Their Arrival in America.

graduation from the Seminary, I was appointed as teacher in the Teachers' Parochial High School for Males in the village of Vidrinka, District of Cherikov, Government of Moghiley. Here I taught until 1912. In August, 1912, I was appointed principal of the Teachers' Parochial High School in Pustinka, District of Mstislav, Government of Moghilev (at present that of Smolensk). I could not get on with Father Vassily Vostorgov, Superintendent of Parochial Schools in the districts of Mstislav and Cherikov, and therefore left my position two months later.

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