Amidst the flood of information and dramatic news coming out of Russia and the former Soviet Union during the past four years, the role of the church, its confrontation with the modern world, its position in society, have only been sparsely covered. During 1988, the year in which the Russian Orthodox Church celebrated, with state approval and support, one thousand years since the Baptism of Russia, there was a great deal of media coverage. Since then, however, other momentous events have tended to dominate the attention of the world, and the Church has appeared to be relegated to the sidelines.
As in every other aspect of Russian social development, the enormity of the changes over the past four years affecting the church can be characterised in terms of extremes; from a position of stagnation (the term used to describe the last decade of Brezhnev's Soviet Russia and that of his short-lived successors), to almost complete chaos and disintegration political, economic and social which Russia finds itself in today.
The end of the Soviet Union on December 31 1991, following shortly after the failed coup in August 1991, also coincided very closely in time with the death of Patriarch Pimen, who survived just long enough to see the first fruits of Gorbachev's glasnost' affect the Church by permitting the millennium celebrations to take place.
The accession of Patriarch Alexis II, a relatively young and energetic leader in May 1990 took place one year before the abortive coup. He has now been the Patriarch for almost exactly four years; four years of changes which have totally transformed Russian society, and changes which neither the state, nor the people, and certainly not the Church, were ready to confront. These years have seen forces of inertia and of change become so polarised that the country was nearly thrown into civil war in October 1993. The tragic inheritance of the years of socialist totalitarian control has become apparent in the last four years; the absence of any real moral foundations, endemic corruption, a total lack of civic responsibility and bankruptcy in the economic sphere.
The initial euphoria during the extraordinary summer of 1991 following the putsch, was soon to be followed by discontent, hunger, poverty, mass unemployment, an escalation of crime and corruption, coming to a climax in the confrontation between the president and his parliament in October 1993. Since then apathy has tended to dominate the mood of the people, together with a general feeling of resentment, going hand-in-hand with xenophobia, nationalism, antisemitism and fascism, sometimes referred to by the general term of 'communazism'.
What has the Church been doing during this period in history? What does it see as its role? How has it adapted to the changed conditions? How is it to come to terms with its own recent history?
It is important, in the course of any discussion on the Orthodox Church in Russia today, to understand its position prior to 1988, and to distinguish between the various elements within the church; the Synod, hierarchy, clergy, laity, as well as the various demographic, psychological, cultural or social types that make up the present community of worshippers. I shall return to this later.
We must not forget that, before 1988, the state was in complete control of most of the Church's activities, and to a lesser degree even as late as 1991. The Patriarch, the members of the Holy Synod, and the hierarchy were all carefully watched, any decisions and any pronouncements were scrupulously vetted. Appointments could only be made with the prior approval of the state through the council for religious affairs. The activity of local diocesan bishops was equally supervised. Clergy were little more than 'servitors of the cult', their work restricted exclusively to taking services. Church life had effectively been reduced to no more than attendance at services, the observance of church ritual. Religious education, outside the very limited number of theological schools was virtually non-existent, and publishing was restricted to an extremely small number of mostly service books, a few very limited editions of the Bible, a calendar and a couple of small-circulation journals. [1]
None of this is in any way to deny the extraordinary power of faith of vast numbers of believers, through whose fervent prayers and love of the church the Christian faith had been preserved. Nor the dedication of countless priests and deacons in the face of appalling restrictions, as well as the often herculean struggle of a number of bishops who fought for the survival of their churches and their flocks. There also existed, as at all times in the history of the Church, a number of people who either had the courage to speak out or to work underground; those who were prepared to suffer for their faith or, as often happened, to lead a double life, externally appearing to the world and the state as compliant and obedient, but working unofficially for the good of the Church. It is therefore with a measure of awe and respect for these holy people in the church that we must approach such a subject, which will inevitably deal with personalities, and point to dangers and weaknesses. Nor are we to forget the countless thousands of martyrs who laid down their lives and were witnesses to a faith we can only pray to have ourselves.
Our task here is not to analyse or even suggest how the church should behave when it finds itself in hell. The problem arises when we begin to examine how the Church is coping with a totally new situation, when suddenly, within a period of less than two or three years, from the position of captivity in which the church had been for over seventy years, to one of complete freedom, and even supported by the state.
The breath of fresh air brought by Gorbachev to the Soviet Union, especially in the latter days of his regime, also affected the church. The celebrations of 1988 were no sudden relaxation of state control, as a measure of liberalisation had been gradually taking place since 1985. Even before that time, as part of negotiations with the state some eight years before the celebrations for the millenium, the Moscow Patriarchate had been able to acquire the Danilov monastery, and restoration work was sufficiently advanced for the headquarters of the Patriarchate to be transferred there by 1987. However, the millennium celebrations were a carefully orchestrated affair, generally presented to the people as a cultural or historical event.
In June 1988, as part of the celebrations, a full local council of the Russian Church was held, and for the first time since the October Revolution, several canonisations took place. Some of these had, as it were, been delayed for some seventy years, while others had already either been accepted broadly as saints with local veneration, and one had already been canonised by the Church in Exile. There was certainly nothing daring or provocative in these canonisations, with no mention of new martyrs, or the imperial family. A number of very important decisions were however taken, which reversed several of the statutes adopted by, or rather forced on, the Church during the preceding years. These marked a clear desire to return to principles proclaimed at the famous council of the Russian Church in 1917-18. These stipulated the regular convening of both Bishops' Councils and of Local Councils, as well as the establishment of local diocesan councils, to which members would be elected. In parishes, the priest was restored to his rightful position as head of the parish council, which also would be elected. To what extent this element of democracy was actually applied will be discussed later.
The following year, 1989, was another jubilee year when the Church celebrated 400 years since the establishment of the Patriarchate in Russia (1589). A Bishops' council was held that year, and the most significant decision of the council, which showed the increased confidence of the Church, was the canonisation of two Patriarchs, the first Patriarch of Russia, Job, and Patriarch Tikhon, who was at one and the same time the first to be elected after Synodal Regime established by Peter the Great, and the last pre-revolutionary Patriarch. Since Patriarch Job's tomb was in the Dormition Cathedral in the Kremlin, the Church, with some reluctance on the part of the museum authorities, was permitted to hold the first service since the early years of the Revolution in the cathedral. Both events, the service in the cathedral next to the seat of power of the government which had for so many years attempted to destroy the Church, and the canonisation of Patriarch Tikhon, who had actually anathematised them, were seen as a real advance in the freedom and independence of the Church. The Bishops also put forward their suggestions for the legislation on religious freedom which was being discussed, and was in fact implemented the following year. On May 3 1990, the old and very sick Patriarch Pimen died, to be replaced by a younger, energetic Patriarch Alexis. Of noble birth and of Baltic extraction, he was regarded by most as the 'liberal' candidate, in comparison with the older, conservative Metropolitan Philaret of Kiev, who, it was generally assumed, would actually be elected. Apparently, he was so certain of his own election, that he had already composed his acceptance speech.
These last two years, before the collapse of the Soviet Union, had seen a rapid increase in the number of parishes. In 1986 there were 6794; by 1988 this number had increased by only 100. However, in the following two years there were nearly 10,000: some 29 new monasteries had been opened along with seven theological schools. The population at large was extremely supportive of the church, and clergy found themselves having to baptise enormous numbers of people.
The climax to these events followed in the following summer. In August, on the Feast of the Transfiguration, another service was to be held in the Kremlin Dormition cathedral. It was on the very morning of the attempted seizure of power in Moscow, by the so-called State Committee for emergency measures. It was noticed, by those who knew, that at the Liturgy, the patriarchal Protodeacon celebrating in the cathedral, omitted to pray for the government. This was a definite, though quiet statement by the Patriarch of his doubts regarding the legality of those who had seized power. However, for at least the next two days, it was apparent, both by the behaviour of certain hierarchs, prominent members of the Holy Synod, as well as by the lack of any clear statement by the Holy Synod, that the church leadership had adopted a waiting position. The leaders did not, apparently wish to offend any new possible master. This was hardly surprising; years of enforced silence and obedience had become part of the very essence of life under the Soviets. There was also clearly an element of fear on the part of many people for whom a career in the church and great privileges and power, based on loyal subservience and patronage, could be under threat, if those representing a return to the 'good old days' were not successful in their bid for power. If the might of the Soviet state machine were to collapse, and if the KGB were to lose its position of power, there was also a danger that many of the undisclosed, nefarious activities of certain people within the Church might be disclosed.
Within three days the coup was over. Yeltsin was effectively in control, and it was only a matter of time before the old regime itself would be a thing of the past. How was the Church to behave in this new situation? In a sense, the Holy Synod did little. The ensuing process was taken out of its hands, by those who had already begun to open new parishes, those demanding the return of churches, and restoring buildings which for so many years had been used for other purposes. The Church began to blossom even more; the rush to be baptised gathered pace, while Bibles, books and religious pamphlets began to appear in every kiosk and book shop, together with icons, calendars. The church became involved in charitable works, Sunday schools began to flourish, more new theological schools were opened to cope with the sudden demand for new priests. By the beginning of 1993, the number of parishes in Russia had grown to 14,000. There were 213 monasteries and 35 theological schools of various sorts. There were 127 bishops (including suffragan bishops), and just over 12,000 priests. [2] Curiously enough, this figure is very close to that in 1959 on the eve of the Khrushchev wave of church closures, although the figures are distorted by territorial changes, as in case of the Ukraine, which in 1959 had a very large number of parishes, many of which after 1991 had either become Uniate, [3] or part of the Autocephalous Ukrainian Church.
Not surprisingly, not everything went as smoothly as could be hoped. There was great embarrassment at the highest level when the second most senior hierarch, Metropolitan Philaret Denisenko of Kiev, who had expected to be elected Patriarch, suddenly announced his transfer to the Autocephalous Ukrainian Church, and was deposed by the Holy Synod. The matter was not helped by revelations, obtained from newly released KGB files, that he, together with a handful of the most senior bishops of the Russian Church, were known collaborators, and had secret code names. Nor by the fact that not only he but a few others also had compromising personal peccadilloes, possibly used by the KGB for blackmail. [4]
More surprising was the fact that none of the charges were ever answered by those under suspicion. With only one notable exception, Archbishop Chrysostom of Lithuania, not one hierarch has mentioned the past with any sense of personal regret. Only vague terms have been used, referring to the difficulties and tragedies of the past.
Freedom of religion was of course an enormous blessing, but Russia had little experience of such a state of affairs. During the communist era, once a concordat had been reached between the church and the state during the Second world war, the Russian Orthodox faith was given a virtual monopoly in matters of religion. The lifting of any restrictions on expressions of religion brought the Church face to face with a new phenomenon; the rapid rise of protestantism, sectarianism and proselytism, not to mention the extraordinary flourishing of various occult and eastern religions. The Church did not know how to counter this. Attempts were made to have an amendment passed in the new laws on religious freedom to restrict proselytism imported from abroad. Pamphlets and articles in the press began to wage a campaign against foreign heretics, such as Baptists and Roman Catholics, and ecumenism, for many, became one of the great heresies.
Yet another problem which was new to the Church, was the question of politics. To what extent should the church become involved in the political debate? There is no doubt that it was in the interests of all political parties to woo the Church, as became very clear in the elections held in spring 1994. During the confrontation between the president and the parliament in October 1993, there was clear evidence that members of the church were divided. Many prominent churchmen had been elected to parliament in 1988. In November last year, a decision was taken by the Holy Synod, that no person in holy orders would be allowed to stand for parliament in the coming elections. The Church was declared to be outside the political debate it was not seemly for clergy to be embroiled in the worldly affairs of politics. Two priests protested. One eventually submitted, but Fr Gleb Yakunin, well known for his activities as a champion of human rights refused to submit to this new ruling, and as a consequence was defrocked for disobedience. This incident led to an exchange of letters and debates in the press and received a great deal of publicity.
Fr Gleb Yakunin wrote an open letter [5] to the the Patriarch, in which he not only questioned the right of the Holy Synod to ban him from political activity and to defrock him, but went on to raise some very awkward questions which the Church, according to him, needed to resolve, if it was to gain some credibility. The five main issues he raised were:
It is necessary to look at these points in some detail, as they do sum up for many the central dilemmas facing the Church at a new period in its history.
As regards politics, he says, despite the official ban on direct participation in the Russian parliament and local government, the Church has been drawn into the political debate at every level. In a sense, this is partly under standable, as the church is regarded as a valuable ally by the various parties, and none more so than by the right-wing nationalists. Yeltsin, too, curries favour with the Church, and the government has been more than generous in providing funds for the restoration of prestigious church buildings, such as the newly opened church to the Kazan Icon of the Mother of God on Red Square, siding with the church in the often acrimonious debate concerning the return of religious treasures still housed in museums, and giving honours and medals to leading church statesmen. The Church itself is seen openly taking sides, or by its silence condoning statements by prominent churchmen on political questions. Many found the attempts at peacemaking during the October confrontation a distasteful attempt by the Church to meddle in political affairs. One of the most prominent writers on religious affairs, who is also a civil rights activist, Zoia Krakhmalnikova, warns of the dangers of the growth within the Church and support by the Church of a communist-orthodox ideological schism of a nazi-fascist tendency. 'Church and monastery bookshops have in a short period of time been flooded with pamphlets, books, journals and papers filled with the evil doings of Jews, myths about the God-bearing Russian people, ritualism and the dangers to Russia of enemies, in the front ranks of which are, of course, Jews, freemasons, democrats, Catholics, Americans and other "foreigners"'. [6] The most prominent spokesman for this tendency is identified as Metropolitan John of St Petersburg, a permanent member of the Holy Synod. He has in recent months published or put his name to a stream of articles in the right-wing press, calling for a revival of national values, denouncing western democracy, and in one article, [7] defending the Black Hundreds, which, according to him, have a venerable tradition in Russian history, and quoting the 'Protocols of Zion' as an authentic document. The popularity of such views can be judged by the large numbers of churches selling such publications.
On Fr Yakunin's second point, concerning the corruption of the hierarchy, and their complicity with the KGB, I would prefer to say little. The fact that many hierarchs, especially those in the Holy Synod, are accused of being KGB informers, each with his own code name, and sometimes rank, does not necessarily prove that they were intent on the destruction of the Church.
More important, it seems to me, is the appeal he makes in his third point for a return to the principles enunciated and adopted by the 1917-18 Council. This revolves around the question of true accountability and democracy within the administrative structures of the church. At present, the Holy Synod is a relic of the Soviet era, a self-perpetuating, self-appointing body, accountable only to itself. Bishops are still appointed by the Holy Synod, and parishes are very much under the control of the parish priest, who in turn is at the mercy of his diocesan bishop. No real trace of democracy exists within the Church. Clericalism, authoritarianism, centralised control persist.
Financial irregularities which Fr Gleb Yakunin refers to are to do with a murky area of the Church's existence during the Soviet era, when corruption was concealed, but nonetheless rife. No form of public accounting existed in the Soviet Union, and nothing is known of the Church's financial affairs today. Financially, however, the Church appears now virtually bankrupt. The sudden growth of parishes, the restoration of buildings, inflation and the collapse of the national economy have left much of the Church with no money, and very few sources of income. The collections, sale of candles and prosphora, which had been the main source of income for many years, despite the growth of believers, is still not enough to cover the expenses of most parishes. The Church is no more free of the need to pursue its financial security than the rest of society. It is not surprising that corruption is widespread, at all levels within the church. The Church is also easy prey for the criminal elements in society who can see it as a way of making money for themselves. To assist a new parish in it its early stages may appear generous, but when a cut of the profits is taken, the hand of the mafia at work can be clearly seen.
The final point in his open letter, concerns repentance, some form of public statement, admitting the wrongs and sins of the past. This is not a matter for us in the comfort of our western lives to comment on. As one very old bishop told me, 'What do we have to repent of the suffering and persecution we endured? Who are you, in the West, to tell us to repent? Are you free from sins of compromise with the world?' [8] But opinions clearly differ, and there are those who consider some form of public admission of guilt necessary.
One other major item of news in recent times, which in some way reflects much that is problematic in the Church, is the case of the parish of Fr Georgii Kochetkov. Over the last three years, this Moscow parish, of the Meeting of the Kazan Icon of the Mother of God, has been growing rapidly in size and reputation, as one of the most 'progressive' parishes in the city. A large part of the services were conducted in Russian, there were certain liturgical practices, not unfamiliar in the West, such as serving with royal doors open, or reading of the secret prayers aloud. More significant was the establishment of an elaborate system of catechization, continuing adult education for the newly baptized, and the creation of a strong community spirit amongst its members. Recently, this church became a target for the traditionalist, right wing of the Church, represented by the Union of Orthodox Brotherhoods. After representations to the Patriarch by both parties, the parish was eventually closed down, and the church was handed over to a monastery. Fr Georgii and his parish were allowed the use of a smaller church, and he himself was told to cease his reformist practises. Clearly, the Patriarch was afraid of offending some of the more influential and extremist elements. This event was widely debated in the national press, with the liberal, and mostly secular press speaking out in support of Fr Georgii, and the right-wing and religious press condemning him as a reformer, ecumenist and worse. Of approximately 250 active parishes in Moscow, there are only four or five known to me that share his views and follow some of his practices. The majority prefer not to be drawn into the debate.
Those alarmed by the growing tide of nationalism and extremist obscurantism frequently accuse the Church leadership of collusion or support. The Patriarch is rarely available for comment and is accused of not speaking out. Recently, however, in an interview with the weekly Moscow News (17-24 April 1994), he addressed in the firmest terms yet some of the problems I have mentioned. He stresses the importance of the Church's political impartiality. Metropolitan John has no right to speak in the name of the Church. This is the right of the Holy Synod or the Patriarch, and in the final resort, that of the local council of the Russian Church. The Church condemns all forms of racism, including antisemitism, and condemns any concept of a holy war. There is no doubt that the church ritual is in need of certain changes, but this cannot be carried out at random by any priest, but should be raised as a major item of debate at the local council. There have been extremist expressions of hatred in some of the statements by the Orthodox Brotherhoods. This is worrying. True christian patriotism must not be polluted by nationalist extremism. Finally, the Church must be separate from the state, so that it can be a witness to the truth, and always speak out when required.
There are certain traits characteristic of the Russian Orthodox Church which have been throughout most of its thousand-year history both its main strengths and also its weaknesses. Conservatism and fierce loyalty to tradition have allowed it to preserve what was best in both the Byzantine heritage and in its own unique development. At the same time it has always regarded change and reform with suspicion, being slow to adapt to the changing world, as witnessed by the Old Believer Schism in the 17th century, and in its refusal to accept the reforms of the Living Church in the 1920s. The beautiful and elaborate ritual and art of the church have not encouraged literacy and learning, and all too often this ritualism has become an end in itself, with a poor understanding of the theology that brought it about. At times of national strife, whether from internal struggles or from foreign invaders, the Church fought for unity and the defence of Holy Russia. Its support was crucial for the emerging Muscovite state in the 14th century, and at the outbreak of the Second World War Stalin was forced to call on the Church for its support in the war effort. However, patriotism and isolationism have lead to positions of extreme nationalism.
The Church has now to survive in an environment which is totally different from anything it has known previously. Whether an integral part of the society and the state before the Revolution, or an anachronistic survivor of the past, persecuted and reviled during the Soviet era, the Church had no doubts as to its position in society. Like the rest of Russian society, it has now emerged from the captivity of communism badly damaged and ill prepared for the chaos that characterises most of Russian society. The tensions and confusion are reflected in the Church, and future developments will depend to a large extent on how society will evolve in the next few years. Leaders of most political factions want to be seen as supporters of the national religion, and rush with unseemly haste to be baptised, and to promote legislation which will guarantee exclusive rights to the Russian Church. Many of the hierarchs in the Church are prepared to encourage such activity, in the hopes of gaining power and influence. This process would inevitably weaken the moral authority of the Church and lead to more authoritarianism.
The Church is also poorly prepared to cope with its new financial and managerial responsibilities in an atmosphere of crude capitalism and greed. The clergy at all levels are not free from the all-pervasive corruption in society, and clear systems of accountability need to be introduced to ensure the future health of the Church. Much will also depend on improvements in standards of education for both clergy and laity alike. The rapid growth of new parishes has led to a large number of ordinations, and the standard of training is not high. The prohibition of any religious education under the Soviets served to reinforce the ritualistic and all too often superstitious view of religion. This problem needs to be urgently addressed, as ignorance will only lead to greater conservatism and isolationism. Tensions already exist between the liberal and conservative elements within the Church, and if these tensions continue to persist, there is a serious danger of schism.
Much of the debate and controversy within the Church, as has always been the case in Russia, revolves around the capital. Many of the problems affect the whole country, but in general, it is probably true to say that for the majority of the clergy and people, life continues in an unruffled manner; churches are being restored, many new parishes, made up almost entirely of newly baptised faithful with an energetic young priest in charge, are coming into being, with too many concerns of an immediate, local and pastoral nature to spend time worrying about wider issues.
1.
On this period, see J. Ellis, The Russian Orthodox Church: A
Contemporary History, London, 1968.
2.
Pravoslavnaia Moskva, February 1994, pp. 2-3.
3.
The Uniate Church is that part of the Church in the western Ukraine
and Belarus which owes allegiance to the Pope, but retains the
Eastern rite.
4.
A. Nezhnyi, 'Tret'e imia', Ogonek, 4, 1992, pp. 2-3.
5.
Russkaia mysl', 4016, 10-16 February 1994, p. 9.
6.
Z. Krakhmalnikova, 'Ideologiia raskola', Izvestiia, 73, 17
April 1994.
7.
Sovetskaia Rossiia, 32, 22 March 1994, p. 4.
8.
Interview with Bishop Mikhei of Yaroslavl, March 1994.