Lencyk led "a life of singular service" (12/22/02)

Lencyk led "a life of singular service"

The following tribute to Dr. Lencyk was delivered by Msgr. Leon Mosko at the funeral liturgy in the chapel of St. Basil College Seminary, and is reprinted here with the permission of The Sower, where it appeared on December 15.

The recent death of my good friend, Dr. Wasyl Lencyk, emeritus professor of history at St. Basil College, brought to a sad close a life of singular service to the Ukrainian Catholic Church in the United States, and to the larger work of scholarship - his legacy, one that benefited the understanding of the Ukrainian Church that he so loved to the world at large.

Dr. Lencyk was, above all else, a scholar - a respected and acclaimed historian with a worldwide reputation, whose tenacity of purpose seemed to suit him perfectly for his work as a single-minded, dedicated author and lecturer - one whose many works were marked by clarity, anecdotal insights and salient observations.

He was gifted with a prodigious memory and a mental acuity that were belied by his modest and unassuming demeanor. To his distinguished scholarship he brought an sirenic temper and a determination to see all sides of a question which, combined with a solid foundation on unpublished source material, give his works their definitive character.

He is the sort of perfectly balanced author who can always be quoted as an abiding authority. And, as an authority, he was nonpareil when it came to his lifelong study of the life and thought of Metropolitan Andrey Sheptytsky.

One characteristic that prevailed throughout his lifetime was the excitement, passion and enthusiasm he brought to his scholarship. I know that I am not the only one who was always amazed at the fervor with which he pursued his goals. And, his goals were many: it seemed that he was constantly being called upon to contribute to this or that journal or encyclopedia, or to lecture or speak at this or that function or academic convocation.

In retrospect, I wonder if he was not tortured by an awareness of all that still awaited him as was Keats who wrote, "I have fears that I may cease to be before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain."

He was, too, a dedicated teacher, one who expected the highest achievement from his students, giving them persistent encouragement, however unattainable his goal. He never really retired from that role, for every encounter with him proved to be a learning experience. And, in this regard, his influence was immense and far-reaching, having educated two generations of priests now serving in this province.

He was a man of considerable theological learning and deep and unobtrusive piety. I believe the underlying assumption of all his endeavors was the conviction that without a substructure of prayer his many achievements would be empty and ineffectual. Collateral to this was the unique and intimate relationship he enjoyed with the bishops of Stamford. Perhaps closest to Bishop [Ambrose] Senyshyn, he continued as a confidant to Bishop [Joseph] Schmondiuk and Bishop [Basil] Losten: a sounding board and an astute and disinterested advisor on the Byzantine nature of Ukrainian politics, both secular and ecclesiastical.

I knew Dr. Lencyk for almost half-a-century, and was flattered when he referred to me as his colleague - an appellation he did not bestow lightly. I recall vividly one rainy fall day. We were both in the Faculty Room - down the hallway from the chapel in which we are now gathered for our final farewell - philosophizing as teachers are wont to do, and bemoaning what we perceived - most saucily I might add - some shortcoming of our Church now long forgotten, when he said to me: Remember, Father Leo, Lot's wife. He did not need to amplify or explicate that pithy remark, for we both understood that it is the future that we can change: not the past. In his 90 years, Dr. Lencyk never looked back; and for that, he was always young.

He was, in the old idiom, a lovely man steeped in the graces, qualities, ideals and values of the Old World which flowered forth in the New. His like will not grace these halls of academe again, but who, I would like to think even now, may be at a paper-strewn desk in heaven pen in hand gleaning his teeming brain.

God grant him eternal rest and may we keep his memory ever green.

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