The Church in the Soviet Empire
John Jolliffe
The Orthodox Church in Russia Ed. Archbishop Pitrim of Volokolamsk, The Wooden Churches of Eastern Europe David Buxton (C.U.P. £42.50)
The Orthodox Church in Russia is a visually magnificent book, issued by the Publishing House of the Moscow Patriarchate, subject to all the thoroughness of Soviet censorship which that implies. It contains 203 colour photographs of the highest quality, and 253 pages of text of which 190 are filled with in- formative captions to the pictures. These cover a wide field: impressive processions; blessings of Easter gifts; ikons of many kinds, and the veneration of them by the faithful; church buildings and monasteries, which strike Western eyes with an un- familiar and arresting grandeur; splendid snowscapes, and candle-lit church interiors worthy of the brush of Georges de la Tour; the individual sacraments and the great feasts of the Church; monks at work, as carpenters, blacksmiths, gardeners and jewellers; nuns, in and out of cloister and garden, or tending bees, with a charming miniature wooden replica of their convent church in the centre of a cluster of hives at Piukhtitsy.
The introductory section of the text, 'Ten Centuries of History and Culture', makes no bones about the fact that it was those who brought Christianity to Russia, begin- ning with the Apostle Andrew in A D 62, that were also for centuries the only ones to bring any glimmer of civilisation of any kind. It also admits that after Russia had been severely weakened by the autocratic ambitions of Ivan the Terrible in the 16th century, the subsequent invasions by the Poles, Lithuanians and Swedes were repell- ed by the moral strength that the Russian people derived from their Church, before any secular national spirit had come into being. And throughout the 18th and 19th centuries, even when hierarchical ossifica- tion had set in, the pastoral activities of the Church increased: orphanages, shelters for the homeless, hospitals, and funds to feed the hungry and fight disease.
The next three sections, on church ar- chitecture, icons and frescoes, and the Rus- sian brand of piety, also have an essential
eloquence which shines through the leaden, bureaucratic style of the writing, which is not helped by a wooden, lifeless transla- tion, nor indeed by a ludicrous torrent of misprints too numerous to quote. But in- spite of these shortcomings it is possible to learn something of the importance of sym- bolism: the Trinity echoed by the three doors in every church, purity by the gleam- ing white exteriors of churches and the literal sacrifice of what is most valuable and incorruptible by the frequent use of gold in decoration. All this does not, however, con- ceal the ignorance shown by the translator of Christian terms and also of Russian history — examples of which have been given in a characteristically valuable review by Kyrill Fitzlyon in the TLS (24 December).
It is when we reach the fifth section, which deals with the contemporary life of the Church, that the book becomes serious- ly misleading. Its author, a certain V. Feodorov, about whom no details are given, describes the structure and organisa- tion of the Church as if it were not, and never had been under pressure of any kind from the authorities. No mention, for ex- ample, is made of the following facts. First, the 1918 Decree on the Separation of Schools from the Church forbade the Church to organise religious instruction for children, in the expectation that all religious feelings would in due course wither away, as no doubt they would have done had they been other than truly genuine. Fifty years later, a survey (whose accuracy is of course a matter for conjecture) was published in Leningrad indicating that the proportion of final year students there which was 'com- pletely free from religious ideas' was about 97 per cent. Secondly, the Soviet media unceasingly emphasise that Christianity is on the way out, and that (contrary to 100 per cent of available evidence) the Soviet State has found a new way to produce Heaven on Earth. Thirdly, in what is often represented as the brave, new post-Stalin dawn in the early 1960s, Khrushchev closed nearly half of the 10,000 Orthodox chur- ches in the USSR, and more than half the monasteries, since when a large number have been demolished, and others left to fall down. Nor does Mr Feodorov (whose name, ironically, means Son of the Gift of God) mention the psychiatric hospitals in which those who speak up for religious liberty are confined on the slightest pro- vocation, real or imaginary, and are given
injections which destroy their ability to think coherently.
In one sense, therefore, the book adds up to a huge, dazzling Potemkin Village, carefully arranged to deceive the innocent eye of the uninformed beholder. And yet half a loaf is better than no bread, provided the reader remembers not to be misled by the text. And the fact that it exists at all is a reminder that every country preserves its spirituality, to a greater or lesser extent, in the face of obstacles which owe their nature to national characteristics — those of the USSR being, needless to say, a great deal more savage and inhuman than anything in the West. But the Church of Rome recovered relatively soon from Pope Alex- ander VI, the ,Church in Scotland survived the grim rantings of John Knox, and however long it may take, Ireland will one day be free from the likes of Cardinal O'Fee arid also of Ian Paisley. Of course, the troubles of the Christians of the Soviet Em- pire are of a different order, but it is not im- possible to believe that one day truth and freedom (as opposed to 'Peace') will prevail among them. It seems perfectly clear that their faith is actually strengthened by the violent persecution which they suffer, in- stead of being sapped, as so often in the West, by well-intentioned but ill-judged episcopal trendiness, and steady encourage- ment to genuflect before the world and its whims rather than before God and his com- mandments.
The Wooden Churches of Eastern , Europe is concerned exclusively with ar- chitecture, but over a vast geographical area. It covers the Orthodox churches of the whole of the north-west of the USSR and of modern Ukraine and Rumania, and much of north-eastern Yugoslavia; the Catholic churches of most of rural Poland and of the area up to 30 miles over the Czech border; not to mention over 50 Pro- testant churches in Finland, and a handful in Sweden. It comes as no surprise that the ' author's travels in these vast regions go back over 50 years, and his modesty in describing this great book as an `iitroduc- tory survey' is excessive.
It is impossible to describe in a few words, and without illustrations, the variety and development of the styles that are en- countered, but they will come as an ar- resting eye-opener to anyone with £42.50 to invest (not spend) in this excellently produc- ed book. (The end-paper maps are par- ticularly ingenious and helpful.) Whatever the obstacles to a normal religious life, most of these churches are still there. But the author also describes, in an appendix, the 120 synagogues formerly scattered over the area, mostly in Poland, Western Ukraine and Byelorussia. They represented the nearest approach to a national architectural style that the Jews have ever produced, and they came into being when restrictions on the size and height of synagogues that could be built in Poland were lifted in the middle of the 17th century. Not a single one of them survived the Nazi invasion of these territories.
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