Orthodox Parables and Stories: "The Protodeacon that died of Coronavirus"

I first heard about my father Alexander Gusev when he died - it was in mid-April. He contracted the coronavirus while working in a hospital for veterans. The Protodeacon of the Church of the Holy Royal Martyrs of Russia in Sparks, Nevada, was the first and currently the only clergyman of the Russian Church Abroad in the United States to die from the coronavirus. He was only 57 years old.

One acquaintance told us that it was rare to talk to Father Alexander without humor or jokes, he was so much fun. And so I look at the photo in the obituary, and I think: Well, a man with such an enthusiastic look could not die. And when I find his e-mail address on the Internet, I want to write, say, Father Alexander, that the error is all this, let's get acquainted. And I understand - it won't work...

Still, I decide to get to know him by talking to people who knew him.

In his youth, Father Alexander worked as a juggler in a circus in Moscow. He moved to San Francisco from the Soviet Union in 1989, when he was 27 years old. There he came to Orthodoxy, was baptized, married...

"I met Sasha then at our temple. He was a new man, and I decided to meet him," says Natalia Sabelnik, president of the Congress of Russian Americans. - Sasha said he came from Moscow by invitation and was looking for a place to live.

At the time I was working, and I needed someone to take my youngest son to kindergarten during the day. And I had a spare room. I suggested: "Sasha, if you want, you can live with us all ready, but you have to feed Kolya in the morning and take him to kindergarten."

Sasha said yes. He was very humble, just very humble. A lot of people, especially in those days, would come and start asking for benefits, but this is not about him at all. He worked part-time with his friend, painting houses. And although I offered him meals, he always refused. Only for breakfast with my youngest son did he eat cereal. There's still a picture in my mind: I'm going to work, and they're sitting in their pajamas, watching cartoons, and eating their cereals."

Seven months later he moved from California to neighboring Nevada, where, together with a group of parishioners began to create a new parish in the name of the Holy Royal Martyrs of Russia - here in the city of Reno, he took the deacon's office, and met his future wife. While there was no temple of his own in the city, he went to the Sacramento Temple, spending about five hours on the road driving back and forth.

"As a citizen", Father Alexander worked as a medical technician, helping veterans. Secular work is a common practice for clergy in the USA. After his death I saw a post on social networks of one of his colleagues: "We were always happy to see you after shift - a man of intelligence, with a sense of humor, interesting. How painful it is now - you're missing. Thank you for the fact that all these years spent with you days have become brighter".

When the pandemic came, he didn't go into quarantine, didn't leave his patients.

"He always had a smile on his face, even in difficult times he was positive and enjoyed life," recalls Natalia Sabelnik. "I know a lot of people all over the world, and there are some of them who are always bad. Sasha was always fine. He clearly believed very deeply and sincerely in God.

During the pandemic, Sasha and I did not communicate, but his mother called me during his illness. When it all happened, she could only say one thing: "Everything, Natasha, died."

It wasn't until a few days later that we were able to really talk to her.

Mom said that the day before his death, Father Alexander called and said he wanted to join in. I know that Father confessed him. Many people prayed for his recovery, but apparently he fulfilled his mission here, and the Lord took him to Himself ...".

This is the story of a juggler from Moscow, who once started a great journey, came to God, served the Church for 20 years, cared for his neighbors and at a critical moment, forgetting about himself, did not leave them without help. What got me so caught up in the news of the death of a man I did not even know? Why did I suddenly decide to talk to his acquaintances and learn about him? I didn't understand at the time. And now I see that the story of Father Alexander reminded me of that chamberton of Christian life, which, unfortunately, you often forget, especially in moments of danger and global catastrophe: "Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one’s life for his friends."

Dmitry Zlodorov