This change in Russia wouldn't fascinate
me except for
the lasting impression of what it was like all those
years ago, when it seemed things would never ever be any
different. Then it was more than a matter of Soviet society
ignoring Lent.
Back in the 1940s, the Church of Moscow accepted the
terms of the communist powers, and in return got the
Patriarchate back, limited church openings, some
line-items in the state budget, plus all the domain of
the "liquidated" Greek Catholic Church. Yet it wasn't
all roses. Consider: on-and-off harassment, varying
degrees of infiltration, Kremlin control of parish
assignments, even ready-made patriotic sermons
dispatched from a religion oversight agency. Still
some Orthodox Churches in the west expressed horror at
what they called collaboration with godless powers and
refused intercommunion with the Moscow Patriarchate.
Years of compromise in effect turned the legalized
body into a state Church, its clergy becoming, but for
the beards and black robes, frowning steely-eyed
Soviet bureaucrats. Bishops traveled on state-paid
peace delegations dazzling western ecclesiastics from
Baptists to Jesuits with the trappings of religious
freedom. Then came Gorbachev, glasnost, and the 1988
state-sanctioned celebrations hijacking from Kyiv the
Rus' baptism millennium. In the main, however, where
it functioned, the Patriarchate's parishes did only
what the state allowed: doing worship. Homiletic
arts, Sunday-school syllabi, a contemporary Amos or
Micah, and the coffee hour — all were Martian phenomena.
Just one more Yekaterinburg church, restored to Orthodox control by local authorities, undergoing capital repairs from the top down. This is the Church of the Exaltation of the Cross, which is connected to a monastery. Throughout the city, many fresh church buildings, plus priests and monks and nuns going public, are signs of the Russian Orthodox Church's assertive role in post-Soviet society.
I. THE CHURCH SMITHS NEW LINKS.
2003, and newspaper articles on my desk feature an
official Church unfettered. But while free from state
control it has been forthrightly forging new links
with the state. Some secular-minded Russians worry
just what those links will be made of. Has the Church
become political, aiming to Orthodoxize Russian
society (pravoslavozatsiya)? The Patriarchate
recently blessed an agreement of cooperation it worked
out with the Ministry of Health, and currently is
promoting other partnerships concerning public
education and the armed forces.
That Health Ministry agreement, Metropolitan Sergei of
Solnechnogorod explained in an interview with
Izvestiya (13 March 2003), simply removes any
obstacles to priests' ministering to the sick, plus it
inserts into nursing school programs something about
the Church's role in hospitals. Nothing to worry about.
What about the campaign to introduce into the school
curriculum a study of the foundations of Orthodox
culture? Again, the churchman saw no reason for
alarm. It's no attempt to force conversions, he said.
"How can you make someone feel the divine presence?
Nevol'nik — ne bogomol'nik." It's just that
historically the State has always been linked with the
Church. He pointed to the role of ikons throughout
Russian history. To understand the value of that
premise, I tried imagining what would be the ikon in
US history, and what constant linkage would it show.
The gun? The wheel? United Fruit? Metropolitan
Sergei finished his argument: "who could begin to
imagine even secularized Tchaikowsky without his
religious feelings?"
The churchman downplayed opposition to the curriculum
proposal from Russian Federation Muslims. In fact, he
endorsed the idea of Russian students in Muslim
regions of the country similarly studying Islam.
II. THE CHURCH LIKE A BEAR.
In an earlier issue, Izvestiya interviewed the Grand Mufti
of all Russia's Muslims, Talgat Tajuddin (15 February 2003),
who also found nothing worrisome in the Orthodox Foundations
curriculum. In fact, "there where the bear has gone,"
he spoke idiomatically, "we shall also go."
In other words, Muslims would take advantage of
the path the Orthodox Church will have cleared
through the thicket of government and themselves
see to a textbook that would provide information on
the cultures of all the historic religions of Russia
besides Orthodoxy: Islam, Judaism, and Buddhism.
The Mufti characterized any Muslim opposition to
the school program as marginal.
In Moscow in early January it wasn't bears but six
middle-aged men who entered an exhibition hall and
defiled art objects, ruined walls, and smashed glass.
Upon arrest they identified themselves as "believers"
expressing their ire over the display. The exhibition
carried a provocative name: "Beware — Religion!"
Its theme was (1) carefulness required in relating to
religion and (2) danger in mixing religion and state.
Metropolitan Kirill, head of the department for the
Patriarchate's external relations, in commenting on
the actions taken by the six believers, called the
exhibit criminal! A provocation! (Kommersant, 22 January 2003)
The assembled art had not respected the worldview of
others, he said, but rather insulted religious
feelings in a way that leads to inter-ethnic and
inter-religious conflict.
The churchman, like me, had not himself seen the artwork.
[Metropolitan Kirill presides in a weekly column, where
he answers readers' religious questions. The newspaper?
Komsomolskaya Pravda!]
The monument is Yakov Sverdlov. Just before the city's 280th birthday, celebrated 16 August 2003, the public works department coated him in black. This fresh coat covered the variety of paints that had been tossed up on him over the past months, a favorite activity of those who would like to see the worst of the Bolshevik heritage removed. Sverdlov was known for having set early Soviet fashion: he dressed in leather from head to toe. It is not for that he gets splashed. He was a principal in the murder of the Tsar and all the Tsar's family, several blocks from this monument.
III. THE CHURCH TELLS THE STATE
ITS DUTY IN MATTERS OF SEX.
Yekaterinburg. This winter a gay nightclub opened.
A huge fuss in town. Poor-taste advertisements,
a location in center-city, a finger-in-the-eye for
a conservative society. TV and newspapers ran stories
of demonstrations and counter-demonstrations, except
Oblastnaya gazeta, which felt there were "more
important and socially significant themes" to cover.
When, however, that newspaper, subsidized by the
office of the oblast governor, received a copy of a
letter penned by the local archbishop addressing the
governor himself on the matter, the editors felt they
had little choice but to join the rest. They printed
its seven long paragraphs.
Archbishop Vikentiy's case against the club makes
interesting points. (1) The gay community picketed
the Church because of the Church's outspoken
opposition and claimed their picket to be an
expression of democracy and a fight for human rights.
This, says the Archbishop, was the first time in all
Russian history that "perverts advocated their right
to vice right in front of the walls of God's church."
(2) AIDS and drug abuse are symptoms of moral collapse
and result from promoting depravity and homosexuality.
All these problems, he declared, are intertwined with
criminality, prostitution, STDs, population decrease
in Russia, decline of birthrate, millions of abortions,
homeless children.
Addressing the governor with honorifics once reserved
for the Tsar and the Grand Dukes, the Archbishop
demanded action on his list of sins, crimes, and diseases.
The club was closed.
Mid-February, Archbishop Vikentiy took up another fight.
The churchman charged in missives to oblast authorities
regulating schools that Valentine's Day
"propagandizes for sexual promiscuity". He worried
about school children on whom teachers were imposing
the holiday. A staff writer with Podrobnosti, a local
daily not subsidized by some governmental entity,
pointed out that only students studying English learn
anything about Valentine's Day — familiarity with
western customs deepens language mastery.
The same article had gentle fun at the Archbishop's
expense. What's promiscuous, it wanted to know, about
exchanging Valentines, and then proposed a more
effective Church campaign: go straight to Russian
lovers by printing special Valentines whose message
would be —
"Dear Sweetheart! From this day forward — all
depravity (razvrat) is out!"
— Any fun with church leaders in the previous regime
was never so civilized.
Last month, an Orthodox brotherhood of university
students declared themselves ready to patrol the
streets of center city at night to discover and detain
those surreptitiously pasting illegal advertisements
to utility poles. The brotherhood faulted the mayor's
office and local police for not taking the matter
seriously enough. The ads in question were the bane
of all big cities: phone numbers for sexual services.
Podrobnosti wondered whether this student vigilantism
might not be named "Ku-Klux-Klan Urals-style", which
struck me as the wrong analog. The "Saudi Sabbath
Police" seemed much more apropos.
IV. ENOUGH FOR NOW
The change in Church role here is certainly in some category
other than that of new women in American society, is much
more dramatic than the effects of microwaves, cell phones.
And it's not so much going ahead as it is going back, which
one of you suggested to me — back to the way things once
were. It all bears watching. Especially if the Church of
Moscow is to remain the singularly privileged voice of
Christianity in a country spreading from Europe into Asia
across a dozen time zones.
Anybody wanting the Russian originals to check for bias
in my Englishing, send me a line.
Watchfully yours, Matthew-Daniel Stremba
27 March 2003
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