Remarks on the Retirement of Archbishop Benjamin

REMARKS by Fr. John Dresko
Retirement of Archbishop Benjamin
15 July 2025

Your Beatitude, Esteemed Hierarchs, Reverend Clergy, Beloved Brothers and Sisters:

We gather today to celebrate the life, ministry, and retirement of my beloved friend, Archbishop Benjamin. Occasions like this have two temptations; the first, of course, is to turn it into a wake. The second is to turn it into a roast. I have no intentions of burying my friend today. But since he and I have been friends for fifty years, I will admit that the second temptation is great indeed. We shall do our best.

My first memory of Vincent Peterson was over a dinner table in the refectory of St. Vladimir’s Seminary in 1975. He was already holding court one week into his first year at SVS (a transfer from St. Tikhon’s, by the way!) and was loudly and vociferously letting anyone who would listen know how Phys Ed teachers were actually Nazis in disguise, torturing innocent young people into good physical shape (although he always argued that “round” is a shape!). A beautiful young lady whom I did not know yet was also sitting at our table, getting red around her cheeks and ears and finally letting Vincent know that she was a Phys Ed teacher come to study music at SVS. An awkward silence was soon broken when he said something like, “Well, I hope you’re not a Nazi.” That young woman is my wife, Elizabeth.

A great friendship actually blossomed from there. It’s a friendship that makes no human sense. We were roommates his second year with now Hieromonk Sergius Gerken. Three more different persons could not have managed to live together and survive.

Vincent listened to opera. I listened to LedZepplin.
He could name the starting lineup of the current offering at the Metropolitan Opera. I could name the starting nine of the Baltimore Orioles.
He tried to acculturate me – finally got me to go see Aida at the Met. Actually gave me the book to read the story since the opera was in Italian! Then he got angry when I fell asleep.
I learned how to throw slippers across the room accurately to bop him on the nose to get him to turn over when his buzzsaw of snoring woke me. He, in turn, often brought Charlie, the seminary cat, into our room, gently placing him between my sleeping legs only to have Charlie wake me in the middle of the night to let him out. Did I say I’m allergic to cats? And he knew it?
A more mismatched group of young men you could not have constructed. But it was one of the best and most fun years of my life.

Vincent was unable to go home during winter break 1975-76, so I took him home with me to Rochester, NY. We talked my dad into letting us use his car to go visit some classmates in St. Louis (in other words, my future wife). We had a great visit and continued to build bonds that last until today. I finally convinced the young Elizabeth Fedak to marry me, and Vincent served as best man at our wedding. During group photos in the church after the wedding, he leaned over and whispered in my ear, “You know what I had for breakfast? Coffee and prunes.” It was not the last inappropriate thing in an inappropriate place he ever said to me. Two years later, he became godfather to our first born, Christopher (who is here today as his parish delegate and to honor his godfather).

Our friendship grew over the years and we were actually together for a while. Our first parish was St. Mark in Rochester Hills, Michigan. He came to be choir director at Ss. Peter and Paul Cathedral in Detroit, so we were able to celebrate many days together as a family before he left to go back to his beloved California to serve as choir director at his home parish — Holy Virgin Mary Cathedral in Los Angeles, where he converted to the Church when was a teenager. It was from that move that the rest of his life in the Church really took shape here in the West. I described the arc of our friendship at my parish in Las Vegas when he visited for the first time after my assignment there by describing that: we were roommates and had loads of fun, then I got ordained and we just greeted each other with a holy kiss. He was ordained deacon, then he kissed my hand when we served together. Then he was ordained a priest and we kissed each others’ hands. Then he was consecrated bishop, and now I kiss his hand. Only in the Church, right?

There are two things about Archbishop Benjamin that must be shared on this day. The first is to remind everyone of the joyful — even playful — spirit of His Eminence. He famously received real criticism after his consecration because he had a great big smile on his official portrait. I won’t mention rumors of whoopie cushions at Holy Synod meetings or meddling with poor Archbishop Nikon of blessed memory’s hearing aids.

So many playful memories stand out with my family. He visited us many times over the years. Those visits always took on the feeling of warfare between my children and first Uncle Vincent, then Uncle Ben. When he was at our house, the kids would check their rooms carefully when they came home from school to search out what type of boobytrap might be waiting for them from his hands. In the early days of cell phone use, he left his guard down and my kids figured out how to change the language of his phone to Portuguese. He didn’t have Archbishop Daniel there to change it back.

His godson and I visited him in Los Angeles when Chris was 12. Ever heard of “Slug Bug?” I literally had to get angry to get them to stop playing it everywhere we went. And he started it — not the twelve-year old. I got tired of being slugged by one of them. Do you know how many red VW bugs were driving around SoCal then?

That playful spirit has not been dampened by age and illness. We were in Santa Rosa this past April for Diocesan Council and had the Advisory Council meeting beforehand and afterwards, I, with great concern and growing sadness, helped Leo get the archbishop out the door of the chapel. Three of us were then going to the hall when we hear this insane beeping and someone yelling “Head’s up! Move it or lose it!” and His Eminence flies by on his little scooter with klobuk flapping in the wake and laughing at us. Playful indeed. I pray he never loses that spirit.

The second thing that must be shared is the superpower of His Eminence. We have endured so many “life in the balance” moments together. We joke that him still being alive is proof that the incomprehensible God exists and has a sense of humor. There were family difficulties, illnesses, struggles with treatments for those illnesses, accidents and other moments which would crush most people. Did you know he wanted to trim the lemon tree in the courtyard in LA to keep passersby from taking the fruit and was surprised when the branch he was holding onto actually fell when he sawed it off, taking him down from the balcony on which he was standing, almost killing him and breaking his face and jaw? We have been through it all together. The superpower he has is that all that difficulty and brokenness has left him with a capacity for empathy and sympathy that you don’t see in many people. He hates injustice and suffering.

He had two nephews who were going to be homeless because of family situations. So, he took two teenagers (!) into his home at his own expense. My wife and I raised four — I have no idea why anyone would voluntarily take any in.
He has a special needs brother, Dale, that he loves and cares for to this day — he even takes Dale to Disneyland every year. I need to tell you that Disneyland is hell on earth for His Eminence. Goes every year!
He has had to discipline clergy and never broke relations with them, always hoping and leaving the door open for repentance and restoration — a door he had used himself. One of the disciplined clergy had to go to prison — His Eminence kept in regular touch and tried to help him get back on his feet. His own suffering and brokenness has helped him see the brokenness in others and reach out to assist them.
He saved my life when I needed it by bringing me out West and letting me heal. Then, when I was ready, he put me to work again. I’ve been working for him ever since. He simply wants to see people saved — yes, for eternity, but also for this life here and now. He wants to see people made whole again. His capacity for empathy is a real superpower.

In the 25th chapter of his wonderful Old Testamental work, Jeshua ben Sirach wrote the qualities of a great man:

1. A father who delights in his children

The archbishop has delighted not only in his nephews, whom he helped raise, but the thousands of children whom God has given him in the Church. He always says the best part of his calling was visiting every parish and getting to serve and know all his children. He IS the father of this diocese, with many, many children who love him.

2. A man who lives to see the downfall of his enemies

My friend has bravely battled every enemy that attacked him. Illness, struggles, family strife, homelessness. Did you know that His Eminence lived at the Life-Giving Spring Retreat Center in Boulder City, NV as Auxiliary Bishop? It was anything but life-giving. Did you know that he lived in a homeless shelter (Raphael House) when he became diocesan bishop because there was no residence ready for him in San Francisco? The Archbishop of San Francisco walked from a little room like the room of every other homeless resident to the cathedral.

3. A husband who is blessed to live with an understanding wife

As a young man, Vincent Peterson decided he would be married to the beautiful, spotless Bride presented to him by the Bridegroom. He has been blessed to serve Her with faith and love for these many years and sacrificed for Her. A native Californian was asked to go serve in Anchorage, Alaska. He said yes. A cosmopolitan patron of the arts who loves to go to the opera was asked to serve in Kodiak, Alaska. There’s a little less activity and sunshine in Kodiak than California and I’m pretty sure there’s no opera. He said yes. He has served Her and lived with Her as best he could.

4. A man who does not slip with his tongue

Well, he’s better than his younger self, but everyone needs something to keep working on.

5. A man who has not served a man less worthy than himself

Life has offered many lessons in humility and His Eminence has embraced them all. He truly sees the dignity of every single person and hates injustice. He catches a glimpse of the Lord in everyone he encounters. He does not see anyone as less worthy than himself. I know he dips into his own pocket to help anyone whom he finds in need, monetarily, spiritually and emotionally — especially those in his charge.

6. A man who is blessed to find discernment

He is able to discern the needs of those who come to him. I don’t believe he has ever assigned anyone without caring about the priest, his family and the parish. He truly tried to make every match work.

7. A man who is blessed to speak to ears that listen

Over the past 17 years in the diocese, I have seen his messages, sermons and advice to countless multitudes. He speaks with humility and authority. And our ears listen because what is said is worth listening to, not just “because he’s the bishop.” Most impressively, I feel confident in saying that no one in the diocese was ever scared to see the bishop coming. Nervous to impress perhaps, but never scared.

8. And a man who has found wisdom—how blessed he is

I have watched a man grow in wisdom and understanding over these past fifty years. A man who was blessed with a great mind, talents in abundance, and a beautiful voice, has now been afflicted with this cross which has robbed him of much movement and taken much of his voice. St. Paul was told by the Lord that “My power is made perfect in weakness.” St. John the Baptist told the crowd, “He must increase and I must decrease.” My friend has been blessed with the power to decrease through weakness. He has become bigger in my eyes as he has grown smaller. He has become stronger in my eyes as he has become weaker.

9. But there is no one greater than a man who fears the Lord.

His Eminence has spent his life serving and fearing the Lord. His fear wasn’t “I’m afraid of going to hell.” His fear was “I am in the hands of the living God and He trusts me with His people. I’d better do the best job I can.” He has.

My dear friend Vincent. Fifty years have gone by in the blink of an eye. You now join me in retirement. It’s not that bad! Liz, my children, and I wish for you always God’s love, strength, and blessings in this new stage of your life. We are your family and will always be there for you. I love you.

Our dear Archbishop Benjamin. Twenty-one years you have served us in this diocese as archpastor, but more importantly, as father. Your beloved flock has the same one wish for you: that God’s love and blessings strengthen and encourage you in this next stage of your life as you have strengthened and encouraged us these many years. We are your family and will always be there for you. We love you.

Eis polla eti despota!

Gallery of His Eminence, Archbishop Benjamin Over the Years: