On September 11, 2020, Father Peter Scorer, the longtime deacon and disciple of Metropolitan Anthony of Sourozh, fell asleep in the Lord mere weeks after being diagnosed with advanced lung cancer. It is our joy at The Wheel to offer testimonies and memories to this kind, gentle, loving man of God, much beloved by all who knew him.

Peter Scorer was born in England on October 15, 1942. On his mother’s side he was a grandson of the great Russian religious philosopher Semyon Frank. Peter’s English father was killed in battle in 1943. Peter was raised in a Russian Orthodox tradition, and baptized by Archimandrite Lev Gillet. He graduated from University of Oxford where he read Russian and French. He then went to study at St Vladimir’s Orthodox Seminary in the United States, studying under Fathers Alexander Schmemann and John Meyendorff. He graduated in 1967, and married his wife Irina with whom he went back to England. In 1973 he was ordained deacon by Metropolitan Anthony of Sourozh, and served as his deacon until Vladyka’s repose in 2003. After 47 years as deacon, Father Peter was ordained priest on February 1, 2020, by Archbishop Niketas of Thyateira and Great Britain. Until his final illness he served the parish of Holy Prophet Elias in Exeter, Devonshire.

Gillian Crow

I knew Father Peter for the last 37 years of his life; and except for the 6 months of his priesthood, he was just Peter (and to his fellow Russians who had grown up with him, Petya). In 1988 I was one of a dozen people who went on the Diocese of Sourozh pilgrimage to the Russian Church - and Peter and Irina were leading lights of our group.

We visited various churches, some still in use but others just shells - and Peter got us to sing in all of them, often to the amazement of the babushkas in charge. He also sang before meals in the hotels. I remember the astonishment of the other guests in Moscow’s Hotel Ukraina! This was of course still Soviet times, but Peter was fearless!

In the southern city of Rostov-on-Don we were invited to the Liturgy on the Name Day of its Bishop, Alexei, followed by a grand banquet. After the meal, Peter was asked to speak, and he memorably said, regarding the Church’s position, “Strike while the iron is Gorbachev.“

Yes, Peter was bold; but he was also full of fun, and so very kind and understanding. My son and eventually his children grew up in the summer diocesan camp that Peter led for decades, so as a family we owe a great debt to his dedication.

At our annual Deanery Conference he not only encouraged and guided new deacons; less seriously he was also an excellent compere for the evening party.

He was deeply involved with the St. Gregory’s Foundation, an Orthodox Charity to aid the needy in Russia; and he was the Chairman of the Metropolitan Anthony of Sourozh Foundation in Britain, tasked with preserving the Metropolitan’s archive in Britain and encouraging a wider audience for his vision.

Metropolitan Anthony of Sourozh used to say that the word ‘faith’ included faithfulness. Peter had both, in large measure. And in the many trials our Deanery has endured since M. Anthony’s death, Peter has truly been a faithful rock - petros for us all.

May we continue to build on his firm foundation.

Olga Sedakova

Благодарю Тебя за снег,
за солнце на Твоем снегу,
за то, что весь мне данный век
благодарить Тебя могу.

Передо мной не куст, а храм,
храм Твоего КУСТА В СНЕГУ,
и в нем, припав к Твоим ногам,
я быть счастливей не могу.

I thank You for the snow,
For the sunlight on Your snow.
For being able to thank You
For my entire long life.

I see not the bush but the temple,
The temple of Your BUSH IN THE SNOW,
And, falling at Your feet in it,
I couldn’t be happier.

Leonid Aronzon, 1969

Petya (Father Peter Skorer) especially loved this poem by Leonid Aronzon. He "copied the words" as soon as I read them to him the first time. It describes his life. This is how he saw people, things, plants, animals. Not a cat, but a temple of Your cat. For Aronzon himself, it appears to be a sudden epiphany, "seized by sudden tenderness." For Petya, it was his whole life. Whoever has seen this gratitude and this happiness in his eyes has seen much. Once I caught such a glance at the graduation party at the University of Exeter, where he was at that time the head of the Slavic Department: he was looking after his departing students. They no longer saw how he was looking at them.

Sometimes there was also a very attentive participation in this look - participation, not compassion. So he stood and looked at my dying cat Charles in Azarovka. The cat was dying for a long time, and Petya arrived probably on the penultimate day of his life.

“I noticed,” he said, standing over the cat, “that the dying creature, be it a human or an animal, is surrounded by expectation. Such a great (showed with his hands) expectation. I've seen a lot of this.”

“Waiting for what?” I asked.

“Probably the final consent.”

We were friends with him and with Irina for many years. We met for the first time in Moscow, at the still semi-secret house meetings with Vladyka Anthony. Petya at that time accompanied him as a deacon. When he looked at me and smiled, I began to look around for whomever it was, so familiar and dear to him. It couldn’t be me. And asked whether he mistook me for someone else. No, he said, you are Olya, I know. Since then we have visited each other so many times. Me in Exeter and London, they in Moscow and Azarovka. I can see him now in my garden, at this or that tree, completely delighting in each one. How good and simple everything was with him. And it is clear that there are no things in which we will seriously disperse.

Thank God that he was dying surrounded by family and friends, who sang for him when he was surrounded by this great expectation.

Constantin Sigov

Peter Scorer in a very recent conversation talks about his friendship with generations of the Struve family (continuing the tradition of friendship of his grandfather Semyon Frank), about the main encounters of his life, about his teachers in England, France and America, and finally, about the challenges of the current pandemic.

The vulnerability we all experience is reflected in the vulnerability of this July webinar recording. Peter came to the aid of his old friend (when Alexis Struve briefly lost power in the Loire Valley) and spoke wonderfully, waiting for his friend to join the conversation again in Zoom. Before our eyes, he connects the broken thread of communication. With the smile and ease of a noble person, he “does not notice” the inconvenience of meeting online and testifies to the most important thing in his life (no matter what changes it undergoes).

The conversation takes place on the day of memory of his teacher, Archpriest. John Meyendorff July 22. On the eve of the broadcast, Fr. Peter wrote from Exeter to Kiev:

Dear Kostya,

I don’t know what I’m going to talk about. I just recently got a little heart disease - now I seem to be recovering

So I came up with these thoughts:

What do I want to talk about? I'm not quite sure yet, as it will be without deep preparation.

I would like to remember my close family ties with the Struve family.

The experience of the church life of an emigrant, London, Father Anthony Bloom (later of Sourozh), close ties with the Russian Union of Artists, trips to Paris, children's camps in France and England. Seminary in America, - Fr. Alexander Schmemann and Fr. John Meyendorff (died on this day in 1992)

Served as a deacon for nearly 50 years and now as a priest in a small, diverse parish in the southwest of England.

And now a pandemic. How do we deal with this? What have I learned in my almost 80 years in the Orthodox Church? Am I ready to understand what liturgical life and church tradition mean?

Fr. Peter

Boulia (Elizabeth) Ledkovsky

For me, September 11th has always been a sad day. In the Julian Calendar it is the day of commemoration of one of the darkest stories documented in the gospels (Matthew 14:1-12 and Mark 6:14-29): the conspiracy between sexy Salome and her nasty, cheating mother Herodias to have John the Baptist’s head delivered on a platter. The Church observes this day with great solemnity and grief against violence and cruelty. Since 2001, when terrible violence and grief was visited upon New York City, the entire USA, and, indeed, the world, 9/11 has been a date that stands for universal sorrow and solemn remembrance. We must never forget.

And now, my family and many others have a third reason to weep on this day.

In the early hours of the 11th of September in England my beloved “Cousin # 1” Thomas messaged me to share that his papa, my uncle Peter Scorer had finally passed away. This was sad news that I’d been waiting for. Only one week earlier, after almost 2 weeks in the hospital, Peter had been given a terminal diagnosis and a prognosis of days, perhaps a few weeks. It turned out to be only a week that he was granted to spend in the wonderful, cozy family headquarters in Exeter, surrounded by his closest kin, enveloped in their love. My aunt and cousins, with their children, and Peter’s cousins, and a few nearby friends who are adopted family, read to him, sang to him, held him close, and accompanied him for every second of his last earthly hours. It seems to me a truly exemplary “Christian ending to life” such as we Orthodox pray for at every divine liturgy.

Everyone who has ever met my uncle would understand without explanation the deep sadness brought about by his departure from our midst. He was so wise and gentle and fun and compassionate and loving and musical and insightful and diligent and smart and humble and warm and friendly and, gosh, just wonderful. And how simply delicious was everything he ever cooked!!! And, oh yes, he was a devoted servant of God, faithfully serving as a deacon for more than forty years until his ordination to the priesthood just seven months ago.

But he was much, much more than that. Like lots of people, he and his wife – my mother’s sister Irina – built a loving family. They married in a double wedding with my parents in 1967, and had three children – the twins, Thomas and Ksenia, born one week after me in July 1968, and Philip, born on my mother’s 30th birthday, in 1970. Today that family core has expanded to include Kirsty and Alice and five beautiful grandchildren, plus “adopted family” like Nadya and Anya Keenan and Emma Gore Lloyd. And of course, there is a special closeness with Peter’s cousins, Sergey, Pavlik and Nika, and an extraordinary bond with the Marks family, my dear Naomi and her parents.

Since the early 1970s, under the wise and graceful omophorion of Metropolitan Anthony of Sourouzh in London, in partnership with my aunt Irina, Father John Marks, and his wife Dawn, Peter built a lasting and loving community of faith in Devon. This Orthodox community is based not on limiting ethnic boundaries (although naturally influenced by our family’s Russian heritage), but on limitless Christian love. That warm, welcoming community flourishes today as the Parish of St. Elias at St. Anne’s church in Exeter (where my daughter was baptized), and I mourn for them, too, as they shall be bereft at the loss of Peter’s loving and selfless leadership.

And there’s more! Besides the family, besides the always welcoming home, besides the parish, there is the CAMP. Hundreds of children over the years, myself included, had the marvelous experience of a rustic, rural English (and later Welsh) countryside as the setting for a camp at which worship was essential but never fanatical. It was a wonderful experience, and Peter and Irina, with the help of Father Michael Fortunatto and Father Alec Fostiropoulus made it happen, year after year.

Then of course, there is the scholarly legacy of Peter the Professor, his dedication to his spiritual fathers and mentors, Metropolitan Anthony and Father Alexander Schmemann, as well as to his grandfather, the Russian philosopher Semyeon Frank. In later years, he frequently travelled to Russia to share his knowledge and insights. The intellectual community knows that Professor Father Peter was a unique treasure.

My most recent visit to Exeter was in 2017, and I have always been sure I would be back soon. I probably would have gone this year, were it not for the pandemic, and I certainly would have gone now if I could. And so it goes. If ever there were someone whom I felt sure would be welcomed to a place among the saints, it is our darling, extraordinary, sweet, loving, irrepressible, irreplaceable Peter. His memory is a blessing; may it be eternal.

Sister Teresa Obolevich

The late Father Peter Scorer, the eldest grandson of the Russian philosopher Semyon Frank, was the custodian of the family archive of his prominent ancestor. I first met him in 2007 during the conference dedicated to Frank’s thought which was organized by St. Andrew Biblico-Theological Institute. He immediately charmed all the participants of the conference with his great kindness, sense of humor and generosity. He shared with us his childhood memories about his grandfather and, as a nice surprise, the scans of photos of Semyon Frank from the family album. It was the beginning of our friendship. Father Peter (he preferred to be called Pyotr, in Russian manner) willingly responded to any request of the numerous Frank’s researchers related to his archive: he scanned and sent us Frank’s manuscripts and letters, patiently responded to requests from other archives regarding copyright and permission to publish the philosopher’s legacy. He enjoyed every new article and book on Frank.

After a memorable meeting at the conference, I was fortunate to talk to him twice more: in Moscow in the hospitable apartment of Irina Sedakova, where he usually stayed during his visits to Russia, and at his home in Exeter in last March. Then right after lunch he took me to his office, seated me at Frank’s old desk, brought folders with Frank’s letters and albums, and showed me the personal library of the philosopher. It is not often that the heirs and keepers of the private archive of the philosopher so willingly and enthusiastically share his legacy with others. Father Peter was extremely sincere, did not try to hide the difficult episodes of Frank’s life, did not try to embellish his biography. He remembered how, after his death, Frank’s widow, Tatiana Frank sent most of his papers to the Bakhmeteff archive to New York.

On September 4th Father Peter called me, and told me with amazing calmness that he had less than a week to live. He wanted to communicate three things: first, he asked for forgiveness for not being able to help us anymore and for not coming to the conference on Frank in Krakow, which was supposed to be held this year and which had to be moved to the next one because of the pandemic. Second, he thanked all the researchers of Frank’s thought for the study and publication of his works. And third, he asked me to take care of the personal archive of the philosopher—a task that, together with Father Peter’s relatives, we have to fulfill. He said that he was not afraid of death, ready to meet God, and it was he who had comforted those who stayed behind...

Father Peter used to say that he has three main life tasks: the legacy of Frank, the legacy of Metropolitan Anthony of Sourozh (Bloom)—he presided over his Spiritual Heritage Foundation,—and the ministry in the Orthodox parish in Exeter. He was happy and proud to announce his ordination to the priesthood, which took place in early February of this year. As a gift, I sent him a copy of the letter from his grandmother Tatiana Frank to Fedor Stepun, the original of which is kept at Yale University. In it, the widow of the philosopher wrote about her grandson: "Petya was sent off to America to Saint Vladimir’s Seminary, he graduated well from Oxford. His departure is also a huge challenge for me: he is quite an amazing boy, if he becomes a priest, he will give people a lot. The soul of Semyon Ludvigovich came back to life in him, the soul that lives by God and shines with him. He did not get his grandfather’ head, but he got his soul. I am happy with them!” (Letter of T. Frank to F. Stepun, 9/7/1964, Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Yale University, GEN MSS 172, Box 11, f. 356) These words perfectly express the essence of the life of Father Peter—a priest and an unusually warm and bright man, whom all researchers of Frank’s thought perceived as a close relative. Eternal memory!