Paul Goble
Staunton,
October 20 – Constantinople’s gift of autocephaly to Ukraine’s Orthodox church
could have a very different outcome than the violent clashes the Moscow
Patriarchate and the Russian government have predicted or the Russian military
intervention that many Ukrainians – and others – fear.
That
possibility, which may be a slim one, is suggested by the experience of Estonia
over the last 25 years where an Orthodox church subordinate to Constantinople
and another Orthodox church subordinate to Moscow have coexisted despite the
threat of problems when that situation was created.
To
be sure, Ukraine is not Estonia. Not only is it larger and more significant for
its congregants and for Moscow, but the church issue there has become more
intertwined with politics and the Ukrainian church is much closer now to the
formation of a single national church than was the case in Estonia.
Nonetheless,
the possibility is worth exploring at a time when tensions are increasing, and
Kristina Bondareva, a journalist for Yevropayskaya
pravda, presents a useful outline of the Estonian case and its possible
implications for Ukraine as it moves forward (eurointegration.com.ua/rus/articles/2018/10/19/7088385/).
“The experience of
Tallinn is useful as an example (or anti-example) for Kyiv’s further actions,
she continues. As in Ukraine, the history of Orthodoxy in Estonia is
complicated; and as in Ukraine, that history casts a shadow on today.
After Estonia achieved independence
in 1918, its Orthodox community wanted to have its own church. In 1920, Moscow Patriarch
Tikhon recognized the church there as autonomous. But that wasn’t sufficient for the Estonian faithful,
and in 1923, they successfully sought a tomos of autonomy (but not autocephaly) from the Universal Patriarch in Constantinople.
The Orthodox church in Estonia
became the Estonian Apostolic Orthodox Church, but when the Soviets invaded and
occupied Estonia, the Moscow Patriarchate on its restoration during World War
II “annexed” the Estonian Orthodox. In 1944, some Estonian Orthodox went into emigration
where they retained their autonomous status under Constantinople.
After Estonia recovered its de facto
independence in 1991, the EAOC was registered as the only Orthodox Church in
the country, and the Moscow Patriarchate lost control of all the churches there
it had used during the Soviet period because Estonians viewed it as part of the
occupation. Moreover, Tallinn didn’t officially register the Moscow church
until 2002.
Moscow religious and civil was
furious, routinely denouncing Tallinn for discriminating against Russians and
Russian believers, condemning
Constantinople for interference in what it claims as its canonical
territory, seeking redress at the Council of Europe and even involving the US
by asking President Clinton to put pressure on the Estonian government.
The Estonian case was “especially
sensitive” for the Moscow Patriarchate in the 1990s because then Moscow
Patriarch Aleksii II had served as metropolitan of Tallinn and Estonia. But
Moscow’s complaints did prove effective, and in February 1996, Constantinople
declared its tomos of 1923 restored, infuriating Russians still more.
But despite that, Bondareva
continues, “the two opposing sides were able to find a compromise,” and “several
months after the tomos, Moscow and Constantinople agreed that in Estonia would two
churches would function simultaneously, and the parishes themselves would
choose under whose jurisdiction they were” Moscow’s or Constantinople’s.
As a result, the EAOC now has 72
parishes and three bishoprics, while the Estonian Orthodox church of the Moscow
Patriarchate has 37 parishes and two bishoprics. The former thus has more churches but the latter
has more faithful, “about 85 percent” or 150,000 believers in Estonia.
The Russian church seeks to maintain
control over the Russian-speaking population, EAOC experts say; “but in the
final analysis, they understand that it is significantly better to be a
European in Estonia and to have all rights and to speak Russian then to be part
of something far from clear on the other side of the border.”
One interesting detail, Bondareva
says, is that because of problems with the recruitment of priests, “among the
priests of the EAOC are ethnic Russians while among the priests of the Estonian
Orthodox Church of the Moscow Patriarchate are Estonians.”
Today, the journalist continues,
these two Orthodox communities “form the largest religious group in the
country. If earlier Estonia was considered traditionally Lutheran, now this is
not he case: ever more citizens consider themselves atheists.”
But this is not the end of the story,
Bondareva says. “Two years ago, the EAOC metropolitan began to speak about the possibility
of establishing a single Orthodox Church of Estonia and proposed to the
metropolitan of the Moscow church to unite with him under the aegis of
Constantinople.”
That move was the product of a
decision at the All-Orthodox Assembly in Crete in June 2016 which held “the
coexistence of two essentially similar churches in one country to be unethical.” But the Moscow Patriarchate did not attend
that meeting, and its church in Estonia showed “no enthusiasm” for unity.
Indeed, for such unification to
happen, many issues would have to be addressed: who would lead the church, whom
would it be subordinate to, and who would get church property. With the Moscow Patriarchate now having
broken with Constantinople, the chances for any movement in this direction seem
remote.
Not surprisingly, the two Orthodox
churches in Estonia take different positions on Ukrainian autocephaly: the EAOC
supports it, while the EOC MP is totally opposed.
Bondareva ends with the suggestion
that the situation in Estonia is less a model for Ukraine than a lesson. The
history of Orthodoxy in Estonia shows that “the peaceful coexistence of two
churches is possible” in a single country; but it also shows how difficult that
situation can prove for the faithful and for the countries involved.
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