Based on the following readings:

V. O. Kliuchevsky, A Cours in Russian History, The Seventeenth Century.

Paul Miliukov, Outlines of Russian Culture. Part I, Religion and the Church.

N. K. Gudzy, History of Early Russian Literature.

Serge Zenkovsky, ed. Medieval Russia’s Epics, Chronicles, and Tales.

Robert O. Crummey, The Old Believers and the World of Antichrist.

The Russian Church Council of 1666-7 excommunicated a large number of clergy and believers from the church. Those who found themselves outside the church became known as the Old Believers, because they did not want to accept a number of changes in the ritual and alterations in the liturgical books, which were ordered by the Council of 1654. Neither side wanted to compromise with the other. The official church considered the Old Believers as schismatic, while those that opposed the changes assumed that they were the holders of the true faith and it was the official church that broke away from the true Orthodoxy. Both sides condemned each other, and a permanent schism took place.

Officially, the main cause for the schism was the ritual change that was undertaken in order to bring the Russian liturgy and its books up to date with the Greek liturgical practices of the time. Those changes were not of a major nature. For example, the number of fingers to be used for crossing oneself is three instead of two; the number of alleluias and prostrations also was changed. Some expressions were to be changed in the liturgical books: ‘church’ for ‘temple’ and ‘temple’ for ‘church’; ‘infants’ for ‘children’ and ‘children’ for ‘infants’; and many other words or expressions of a similar nature. (Miliukov, p. 35) Patriarch Nikon also ordered all Russian-style icons to be destroyed. He himself participated in raids on icons in Moscow and in their destruction.

One of the fundamental causes for the split in the church was the traditional Russian belief that their church was the only true Christian church and the true guardian of the orthodoxy through which the salvation of the world would come—the so-called Third Rome doctrine. The leader of the Old Believers, the Archpriest Avvakum, expressed this belief clearly at the Council of 1666:

O you teachers of Christendom, Rome fell away long ago and lies prostrate, and the Poles fell in the like ruin with her, being to the end the enemies of the Christian. And among you Orthodoxy is of mongrel breed, and no wonder—if by the violence of the Turkish Mahmut you have become impotent, and henceforth it is you who should come to us to learn. By the gift of God among us there is autocracy; till the time of Nikon, the apostate, in our Russia under our pious princes and tsars the Orthodox Faith was pure and undefiled, and in the church there was no sedition. (Zenkovsky, p. 441)

To the logic of the Old Believers, the changes were undermining the foundations of the Russian Orthodoxy from two sides. On one hand, any change in ritual, books, icons, or anything else in the church practices had an implication that the past practices were not good, and the traditional Russian piety had not been truly orthodox. Even the lives of the Russian saints were in question. They became saints because of their faithfulness to the “old religion.” And now that “old religion” was in question and even condemned. On the other side, the issue was that the Russian church had to follow the Greek church in these ritual novelties, the church that had become “impure.” Constantinople, the second Rome, had fallen and its orthodoxy with it. And now, the Russian church was supposed to follow it.

To the Old Believers, this shift on the part of the Russian hierarchy meant the destruction of the third Rome doctrine and implied that the Russian church had deviated from the true Christian Orthodoxy. A clash had to come between the traditionalists and the modernists because the ritual changes touched the heart of the Russian tradition: piety and belief in its messianism.

The consequences of the fall of the third Rome were to be, in the eyes of the Old Believers, much greater than a split in the church. It meant that the end of the world was at hand. Moscow was the third and the final Rome. The changes in the Russian church were considered the work of the enemies of God, of the Antichrist’s emissaries, or of the Antichrist himself. There were various predictions about when the end of the world would come and who the Antichrist was. Even the year 1666 was taken as an apocalyptic symbol. Patriarch Nikon, Tsar Alexis, and most of all Peter the Great, later on, were considered as Antichrists.

Evidently, the third Rome doctrine was the heart of the problem in the schism controversy. The other reasons were secondary or, in some cases, related to it. This is clear from the writings of Avvakum. In his writings he did not dwell much on the ritual or the liturgical books. He preached against the changes because they were an expression of an evil undercurrent that was taking place in the Russian church. At the Council of 1666-7, he did not talk about the ritual but about the purity of faith: “…it is you who should come to us to learn.” In his autobiography he made an effort to prove that he and his followers were the holders of the true faith and that he was an instrument of God’s mission. He wrote to Alexis: “You reign supreme over the land of Rus alone, but to me the Son of God made subject during my imprisonment both sky and earth.” (Gudzy, p. 386) He imagined that he and his followers were now the only true Christians and the true witnesses of faith until Christ comes again. Considering the above-mentioned points, the authors did not treat the third Rome issue for Avvakum and his followers in depth as they should have.

A number of other reasons for the church split have been given by different authors. Zenkovsky, for example, in his introduction to The Life of Archpriest Avvakum by Himself, stresses the question of authority. When Nikon became Patriarch in 1652, he turned against those priests who tried to revive the Russian religious life (Bogoliubtsy), even though he used to be one of them. In their activities he saw “a threat to the authority of the hierarchy.” “Nikon sought the unquestionable submission of the Church to the authority of the patriarch. … Avvakum and his followers, who represented the lower clergy and their parishioners, felt that the parish priests and local laity should have a greater voice in Church affairs.” (Zenkovsky, p. 400)

Kliuchevsky also points out, “The question of ritual was replaced by that of obedience to ecclesiastical authorities. It was on this account that the council of 1666-7 excommunicated the Old Believers.” (p. 329) Crummey mentions in support of this argument that “the council of 1666 decreed that steps should be taken to curtail the autonomy of local communities in ecclesiastical affairs.” (p. 16) Certainly, the submission to the authority was an important question. But to Nikon and the official church it was obedience that mattered, while to Avvakum and the Old Believers it was a problem of conscience and faith. The problem of local autonomy, or the rights of the parishioners, it can be argued, was of secondary, lesser significance than Zenkovsky’s interpretation of events.

The foreign ideas that were influencing Russian cultural life, especially some members of higher political and social circles, were also contributing to the problems in the church. The novel ideas were coming from the West, from Kiev and Greece. In 1632 a monk called Joseph was sent by the patriarch of Alexandria to Moscow to translate Greek polemical books against Latin heresies into Slavonic. (Kliuchevsky, p. 297) Government itself supported learning and literary activities. In 1649 three learned monks from Kiev Academy were commissioned to translate the Bible from Greek into Slavonic. (Kliuchevsky, p. 295) Alexis himself was promoting learning, and he sent his sons to study under a monk who studied in Kiev. He had them learn Latin and Polish. (Kliuchevsky, p. 299) Some of the high court officials were men of knowledge and “westernizers.” One of the best-known promoters of learning at the time was Feodor Mikhailovich Rtischev, who was a trusted advisor of the tsar. He established a monastery near Moscow in 1649 and “installed there at his own expense as many as thirty learned monks from the Pechersky Monastery in Kiev and other Ukrainian monasteries, who were to translate foreign books into Russian and to teach Greek, Latin, and Slavonic grammar, rhetoric, philosophy, and other literary subjects.” (Kliuchevsky, p. 298) These are just some of the cultural activities, and they indicate a strong interest in learning and in Western ideas.

The traditionalists reacted to all these activities and influences that were coming from outside of the country and were foreign to Russian tradition. All of this was considered dangerous for the faith. Learning was a source of evil. “The origin of all passions is in opinion” was a belief of the Josephites. (Miliukov, p. 19) “Rtishchev is learning Greek from the Kiev people, but there is heresy in those Greek writings.” (Kliuchevsky, p. 303) The fear of foreign, especially Western, influences was, as Kliuchevsky states, “not senile conservative grumbling against everything new, but an expression of an attitude deeply rooted in pious Russian minds.” (p. 304) One could say that this was the general milieu in which the schism was brought about. It was a clash between the foreign influences and the traditional piety.

Kliuchevsky stresses the idea that “the schism was simply a part of the national psychology …” (p. 336) But one could argue that the emphasis should not be on the psychology of the people but more on the hierarchy and the clergy of the Russian church who developed the narrow interpretation of Christianity. One could wonder what role people and “national psychology” really played in those few years before the final break. It is hard to believe that the question of the ritual and book controversy did involve the common people and that it reflected their psychology. It was more a “psychology” of the lower clergy on one side and of the learned elite on the other; of those who wanted to move forward and those who continued to believe in the Russian „messianism“ and the third Rome doctrine.

It is true that it was mostly the lower class of people who remained faithful to the Russian traditional piety and became the Old Believers. That is not unusual to expect. People in general do not like changes, especially if they are suddenly imposed. But the adherence of the Russian lower class to the Old Belief was perhaps more an expression of a social discontent than an expression of “national psychology” as such. Cossacks, merchants, and peasants looked at the Old Believers as the force around which they could gather and express their opposition to the oppressive conditions they lived in. Even in the case of the rebellion of the Solovetsky Monastery, one may wonder how much was it a question of the ritual and the books and how much a question of self-rule and a question of land possession. The monastery was bitter when the Ulozhenie of 1649 forbade acquisition of more land by monasteries. Nikon, when he was the Metropolitan of Novgorod, awarded some disputed lands to the monastery’s rival, and he removed the relics of Metropolitan Filipp from the Solovetsky Monastery. (Crommey, p. 18) They did rebel in the name of the “old books” and the “two fingers,” but much animosity had been created between Nikon and the monastery even before the new books arrived.

Crummey stresses the idea of the Antichrist and the end of the world among the Old Believers. It is evident that the idea and the fear of it were present. But reading Avvakum’s life story, one does not find much stress on this issue. He does mention Antichrist a few times in his story, but not in definite terms. He still hoped that the tsar, Alexis, and later on, Feodor, might change his mind and come to the side of the Old Believers. He even threatened his enemies, hoping that the “true faith” will be soon victorious. “Just give me time—I’ll stamp on your necks in fine style, you’ll see, for Christ Jesus, our Lord.” “Just give me time, dogs; you shall not escape me. I hope to Christ I get my hands on you! Then I’ll squeeze the juice out of you!” (Gudzy, p. 389) It seems that the idea of the end of the world was much stronger after the schism took place and the few years that followed, when it became clear that the Old Believers had lost the war.

Gudzy emphasizes the political and practical causes for the schism. Once Nikon became patriarch, he wanted to strengthen his position and get as much independence from the state as possible, or even to get a dominant position for the church in the state. In order to do this, Nikon needed support from the other Eastern Churches. And for that reason he wanted ritual uniformity with the Greek and other Eastern churches. Because of these ambitions, Alexis removed him from the patriarchal see.

Alexis also wanted to have good relations with the Eastern patriarchs for political reasons. He considered himself successor to the Byzantine emperors, and it was his role, or that of his successors, to liberate Constantinople from the Turks. A close relation with the Greek Church was needed in order to accomplish this messianic idea.

In both cases, Nikon’s and Alexis’, the political and practical motives were more important than the religious or even cultural ones. But on the other hand, Gudzy concludes his chapter on Avvakum on a deterministic note by saying that the archpriest “… was the exponent of an outlived tradition that contended long and furiously with the irrevocable unfolding of the historical process …” (p. 396) In this case all mentioned reasons for the schism were of a secondary nature. The Old Believers and the schism were just another “sacrifice” in the “irrevocable unfolding of the historical process.” The conclusion that this was simply a result of some dialectical process in history is hard to accept.

Some other reasons for the schism are given by different authors. Miliukov, for example, states that this was the actual breach between the intellectuals and the masses. The principal cause of the breach was that of conscience. (p. 39). The official Russian Church declared it a matter of ignorance. Those that followed the Old Believers did not know any better. Populist historians see it more as a social question than anything else. However, it seems that a number of different factors contributed to the split in the Russian Church, but the main one was the traditional belief in the Russian messianism and absolute purity of the church, which was promoted by the Josephites and preached by uneducated lower clergy.

The mentioned authors did not take into account the personalities as much as they should have. Nikon, Avvakum, Alexis’ confessor Stephen Vonifatev, and Ivan Neronov (Bogoliubtsy) were friends and worked as a group preaching a revival of Russian Christianity. After Nikon became the patriarch, he accepted the “modern” ideas and changes. He became more Greek than the Greeks. On the other side, Avvakum had a similar personality. He was defending the Old Belief as if God himself had sent him to save the world from a coming doom. He believed, or at least he portrayed himself as such, that he was a holy instrument in God’s hands. One can be certain that in this instance personal animosity played an important role in the split of the church.

Another element of this problem that should be discussed is the question of what was going on in regard to the ritual, books, and other changes before the councils of 1654 and 1666. It is evident that the problem of the ritual was present in the Russian church for a long time before it became a breaking point issue. In 1551, for example, the council prescribed in detail how liturgy should be performed. “He who did not hold two fingers in making the sign of the cross, be he damned …” the council declared. (Miliukov, p. 30) Greek monks at Mount Athos condemned the use of two fingers in crossing oneself as heretical before Nikon became the Patriarch. (Kliuchevsky, p. 324) A number of councils were called to solve the problem of church liturgy between 1551 and 1666. Eastern patriarchs were also pointing out to the Russians that they should do away with their differences in the ritual. On the other hand, Patriarch of Constantinople, Paisius, wrote in 1645 to Alexis concerning the ritual irregularities: “…one must not think the Orthodox faith corrupted because some observe differently the unessential rites, i.e., those unrelated to the articles and dogmas of faith.” (Miliukov, p. 40) All this indicates that the problem of ritual was a long-standing one, and it did not come up just because of Nikon’s “conversion” to the Greek thinking. None of the authors have discussed the pre-schism period in regard to the liturgical controversy.

There are some other areas that deserve more explanation. One of them is the role of Tsar Alexis. Did he support the changes because he was a Westernizer? Was it for political reasons? (Gudzy) Did he “accept the innovations in obedience to the church” but was in sympathy with the old tradition? He asked the council to remove Nikon but to confirm the changes. More evidence has to be explored in order to illuminate the role of the tsar in this important problem.

Another question might be asked: why did the official church try to enforce the changes so vigorously and so fast? Why didn’t they take a little more time? Was it a question of Nikon’s personality and zeal or a real problem of obedience? Or was there a strong belief in making a step forward in modernization: learning, opening to the foreign influences, belief in progress, and a desire to change as soon as possible? Was the official church aware that it was giving up on the third Rome idea, or maybe they wanted to get out of such inhibitions?

It would also be interesting to know what the difference was, if any, between the secular clergy and monks in response to the new ritual and the book correcting it. Usually there is a lack of cordiality between the two types of clergy, and most probably the two responded to the church changes differently.

Furthermore, it is generally agreed that it was the lower clergy who rejected the changes in the church. But was it a question of ignorance or questions of autonomy and obedience, and a problem of who will implement the new changes and how? It was the lower clergy that found itself between the people and the hierarchy. They were the ones who had to explain to the faithful that the old rite had not been good enough, and the new one was the right way to pray. That must have been a major task.

Whatever were the causes and reasons for the schism in the Russian church, the results were tragic for both sides. Neither did the Russian church nor Russian Christianity gain temporally or spiritually by the schism of 1667. On the contrary, it brought a lot of hatred, suffering, and thousands of painful deaths.

Ante Čuvalo (1985)

CroLibertas Publishers
Chicago, Illinois
&
Hrvatko žrtvoslovno društvo
Zagreb
2018

POGOVOR

Bijaše Veliki rat! Potom “ujedinjenje” i veliki muk o ratu i ratnicima! U Hrvata, naravno! Bili ste na krivoj strani. O žrtvama, zarobljenicima, “odesama”, patnjama, umorstvima… morate šutjeti. I bijaše duga šutnja!

Dođe i prođe Drugi, još “veći” rat! Zavlada grobna tišina. Opet kod Hrvata! Što nije pobijeno i pozatvarano, moralo je mukom mučati! Ni zucnuti o Bleiburgu, Križnim putevima, “nestalima”, kazamatima… Hrvati — rođeni ste krivi! Tito i Partija rekoše sve, nema se što dodati! Tako i danas (neki) tvrde!

Dođe za Hrvate i Treći rat! Ovaj put, pobjednički! I slobodna Hrvatska se u krvi rodi! I sad kažu: nemojte o onom što je već davno bilo, pa i ono nedavno! Pustite odese, bleiburge, križene puteve, stratišta, grobišta, jame, kazamate, Vukovar, Škabrnju…. “Bilo i prošlo”! Nismo ni saznali što je “BILO”, a kažu da je “PROŠLO”!

Grozote u Odesi bijahu samo početak jednog krvavog stoljeća. Odesu i današnje “ojkače” povezuje krvava nit svetosavskog velikosrpskog (zlo)duha kojeg su utjelovljavali razni Pašići, Račići, Mihailovići, Miloševići, Karadžići, Vučići….

Na drugoj strani, među Hrvatima, zadnjih sto i više godina lebdi (zlo)duh nekoć “slavljene” “Koalicije”. Uvijek se nađu Pribićevići, Anđelovići, Bakarići, Pupovci, Pusići… Tako i danas. Živjela koalicija! Bez nje i “regiona” se ne može! Malim koracima ali starim stazama u provalije! Dok opet ne bude kakva Odesa, Vukovar, Petrinja…

Zamislimo da je hrvatska pisana povijest jedna duga tkanina koju povjesničari tkaju i vezu. Naša (i drugih oko nas) djela i nedjela su potka i osnova, “svila i kostrijet” tog našeg povijesnog saga. Ali, u tkanini novije hrvatske povijesti postoji nekoliko velikih “rupa”. Probiše ih ideološki “topnici” i njihove “granate”. I danas zjape! Ne znamo što se u tim rupama krije. Ne daju da se sazna!

Vrijeme je da znanstvenici pronađu prekinute niti i svojim stručnim znanjem, pošteno i s ljubavlju ispune rupe i pukotine na zajedničkom nam povijesnom platnu. Potka i osnova su negdje po arhivima u Hrvatskoj i drugdje. Moćnici, otvorite već jednom sve arhive, sve kutije i škrinje…, a na znanstvenicima je da zagrnu rukave i stručnim vezom zatvore historiografske rupe koliko se sada najbolje može.

Pravaška interpelacija o grozotama u Odesi iz srpnja 1918. u Hrvatskoj je prvi put nakon te godine objavljena u Političkom zatvoreniku, glasilu Hrvatskog društva političkih zatvorenika, u brojevima 141. – 144., prosinac 2003. – ožujak 2004., a u ovoj knjizi je objavljena cjelovita prvi put nakon 100 godina. Neka ova knjiga “izvuče” barem jednu malu ali važnu nit iz tamnih rupa naše nedavne povijesti i doprinese rasvjetljavanju zlogukog nagovještaja naravi jedne državne tvorevine koju je vihor otpuhnuo, a koja je stajala na stotine tisuća života, od Odese do unatrag samo nekoliko godina. Ali ni danas nam ne da mira!

Svim žrtvama vječni pokoj i mir, a onima koji stoje ili će stajati na čelu hrvatske države neka krvava Odesa bude opomena da se ne poigravaju sudbinom hrvatskog naroda jer posljedice mogu biti pogubne — kao što su bile i 1918.

Dr. sc. Ante Čuvalo