Pieter GR de Villiers, LitNet Akademies se Godsdienswetenskappe-redakteur, vertel van Alexander Negrov en Alexander Malov, mense wat hy leer ken het toe hy in St Petersburg gedoseer het, se belewing van die politieke en kerklike situasie terwyl die konflik in Oekraïne voortwoed.
Ek het Alexander Negrov by ’n privaat universiteit in St Petersburg in Rusland leer ken terwyl ek by verskillende geleenthede kursusse daar oor Openbaring aangebied het. Die universiteit het ’n hoofsaaklik nie-Ortodokse kerklike etos, met die gevolg dat die meeste van hul studente uit ’n Protestantse agtergrond kom, baie van hulle ook uit Oekraïne of met familie wat daar woon.
Dit was ’n spesiale ervaring om vir die studente met hulle pynlike geskiedenis van die voormalige Sowjetunie lesings te kon gee. My ontmoeting met hulle het ’n verhouding begin wat ons akademiese interaksie verdiep en getransendeer het.
Met meer as net belangstelling wou ek op hoogte bly van hulle ervaring van die verskriklike gebeure wat nou in Oekraïne afspeel. Ek was immers altyd geboei deur hul beleefde spiritualiteit wat gevorm is deur trauma op baie vlakke, maar ook deur hulle uitgesproke geloof, hul toewyding en opregtheid.
Die studente se godsdienstigheid klink vir buitestanders dalk soos iets wat vanselfsprekend verwag kan word van mense by ’n teologiese skool. Maar wanneer ’n mens die kommunistiese kultuur van godsdiensvyandigheid in gedagte hou, is die studente se uitgesproke gelowigheid te midde van ’n gesekulariseerde konteks opvallend en ook dapper.
Die gelowigheid is veral prominent omdat hulle en hul gesinne uit families kom kom wat onder die Sowjetunie vir hul godsdienstigheid vervolg is en wat dus ’n hoë prys vir hul oortuigings betaal het. Sommige van die studente se familielede is in daardie tyd verban, gemartel of vermoor.
My gasheer by die universiteit was Alexander Negrov. Hy het ’n geskiedenis wat hom by uitstek met Oekraïne verbind. Hy skryf in ’n onlangse brief vir my:
I was born and raised in a Christian family during the time of religious persecution in the former Soviet Union (a socialist state that collapsed in 1991). The main dark side of the Soviet Union was unfairly limited freedom for people and lack of opportunities. The loyalty to state ideology was a requirement in the Soviet authoritarian atheistic political system. Atheism was the norm in schools. In the context of anti-religious propaganda, the believers were mocked and even persecuted. Many professions or leadership roles in the various levels of state-owned institutions have been prohibited to Christians.
Hy kom verder ook van die (nou geannekseerde) Krim-gebied, wat ’n skiereiland aan die noordelike kus van Oekraïne by die Swartsee vorm. Hy praat mymerend oor die plek se warm, sonnige weer en sy ryk geskiedenis, kultuur en geografie. Ook gesinsbande knoop hom aan die plek. Sy vrou en kinders is daar gebore. Sy vrou was ’n inwoner van Melitopol, waar soveel gruweldade nou tydens die oorlog gepleeg word.
Die afgelope 30 jaar was hy as volwassene egter in Rusland professor, dekaan en president van die universiteit in St Petersburg. Hy ken die politieke en kerklike situasie in Rusland dus van naby.
Hy was ten nouste betrokke by kerke in Rusland en Oekraïne, waar hy veral navorsing doen oor leierskap as sy spesialiteitsgebied. Hy is die stigter van die HODOS Instituut wat in Amerika en Eurasië etiese leierskap voorstaan en ontwikkel. Die instituut het tans drie personeellede van Oekraïne, met Alexander Malov as een van die medewerkers (sien hier onder). Hulle het bekend geword as ’n invloedryke instelling en die afgelope vier jaar het hulle meer as 2 000 Christen-leiers opgelei.
Die agtergrond verklaar waarom Alexander so aktief is oor die situasie in Oekraïne en soveel daarvan weet. Hy gee vir my sy indrukke van die godsdienstige konteks in Oekraïne en die verhouding met Rusland as volg: Beide lande deel ’n historiese band met die Oosters-Ortodokse kerk. Die meerderheid van mense in Oekraïne is Ortodoks, maar daar is ook groepe van veral Grieks-Katolieke (hoofsaaklik en prominent veral in die weste van die land), Protestante, Jode en Moslems. Voor onafhanklikheidswording in 1991 was Oekraïne die land met die tweede grootste groep Baptiste ter wêreld. Vandag vorm hulle saam met Pinkstergroepe die grootste groep Evangelikale in Europa.
Baie van die groepe voel ’n sterk band met die Weste eerder as met die Russe en soek verhoudinge met kerke uit die Weste. ’n Rede hiervoor was die afwysende houding van Russiese Christene teenoor die waarde en betekenis van Oekraïne se geskiedenis, kultuur en taal.
Groot spanning het in die Ortodokse tradisie ontstaan toe die Kerk in Oekraïne onlangs as ’n onafhanklike Oosters-Ortodokse kerk erken is. Die Russiese Ortodokse kerk onder die Moskouse Patriargaat en die Russiese staat was sterk hierteen gekant. Poetin was uitgesproke daarteen gekant en het die ontwikkeling nadruklik veroordeel. Die Russiese president het ’n sterk band met die Russiese patriarg wat die oorlog in Oekraïne goedkeur en selfs in ’n openbare erediens onlangs die oorsaak van die oorlog aan die verval in Westerse waardes toegeskryf het.
Negrov ken die situasie in Oekraïne dus van naby en word eerstehands daaroor ingelig. Hy stuur in een van sy briewe ’n roerende mededeling van Alexander (Sasha) Malov, ’n student en medewerker van Negrov. Malov is ’n jeugdige inwoner van Oekraïne wat daar gebore is en nog steeds daar bly en werk. Na sy eerste studie aan die Nasionale Universiteit van Ostroh Akademie doen hy navorsing oor niewinsgewende bestuur by die Katolieke Universiteit van Oekraïne. Hy is geïnteresseerd in ekoteologie en omgewingsleierskap te midde van krisis en teenspoed. Hy is origens aktief in jeuggroepe waar hy fokus op die ontwikkeling van jong leiers.
Alexander Malov (Foto: verskaf)
Veral boeiend is Malov se vertellings – eerstens oor die angs en skok waarmee die onverwagte oorlog aangebreek het. Hy skryf:
We knew the possibility of war was increasing during the last couple of months, but also ultimately believed such a brazen violation of international norms would never actually happen. Now it has. How did I find out that the war had begun? I woke up in the middle of the night on Wednesday, February 24th, to see my mother kneeling beside my bed whispering, “It will start early this morning. We should go somewhere farther from Kyiv.” She had been visiting my wife and I overnight, and had received a call from my brother-in-law who was informed about the beginning of the massive offensive. Can you imagine waking up to someone telling you this about your country? I couldn’t believe it. Like so many of you, I had a list of things to do the next day. I had plans. This was a shock.
I had to make a decision immediately, so I told my mother and wife to go with my brother-in-law, and we got them packed and on the road as quickly as possible. I was left alone in our apartment with no idea what would happen next, but wanting to help any way I could. Suddenly I found myself on my knees praying for God’s peace and protection for my family and country. Also, I called Alexander Negrov who prayed with me. I could hardly sleep that night, but early in the morning, about 5 am, I finally nodded off.
A Facebook notification woke me up a short 20 minutes later, at 5:20. Somebody posted that the war had started and there were explosions in Kyiv. I live in a small peaceful town just outside Kyiv and had heard nothing, but turned on the news and saw Putin declaring war on Ukraine. Two minutes later I heard the first explosion. I experienced something similar to a panic attack, but was able to take my feelings under control and begin acting.
Sy beskrywing van die drastiese en onmiddellike gevolge vir die land wys die paniek en angs wat mense ervaar en die trauma wat dit vir hom meebring:
I left my house and was confronted with thousands of people evacuating. I’ll never forget what I saw: young women with confused children, men with big bags, cars in horrible traffic jams, long lines near pharmacies and grocery stores … the types of things I’d seen in movies about World War II. This was now my life.
The next morning, I managed to reunite with my family in a safer place. As I write this, it’s March 8 and we are in the thirteenth day of the war. The calendar says it’s International Women’s Day, so it should be a day for celebrating my wife, mother and sister, but instead, we all feel like it’s still February 24th. Our inner calendars have frozen. We still can’t believe that the cities we love are half-destroyed by missiles, artillery shelling, and aerial bombardment. We feel pain and anger when we see our neighbourhood shelled by Russian tanks and mortars, dead bodies on the streets where my wife and I used to go for pleasant walks. We constantly read or watch the news, which makes us emotionally exhausted, but we can’t stop. This is the first time in my life when the pain of the nation (millions of Ukrainians across the country and abroad) has become MY pain.
Tog is daar ook vir Malov ’n ander onverwagte, merkwaardige kant van die oorlog. Dit skep gemeenskap tussen groepe en mense wat voorheen ondenkbaar was. Hy beskryf die impak van die oorlog in kerklike taal as “die grootste ekumeniese projek” van sy tyd. Die sinnelose geweld verenig die groepe in die samelewing en bring hulle tot daadwerklike aksie.
Mense gee hulself in die tyd van krisis te midde van die geweld sonder huiwering en met intense meelewing vir ander. Die een gemeenskaplike doel is om lyding te verlig en ander te ondersteun. Hulle raak betrokke by ’n magdom aktiwiteite:
But this war has done what nobody in Ukraine could do during thirty years of Independence; namely, unite the nation. If I may say, this war is the greatest ecumenical project of my lifetime and the Church seems united like never before. Everyone is involved. For example, my father and I buy and distribute food to refugees; also, we’re creating makeshift hostels to help with housing. Food is being delivered to Russian-occupied cities where old and infirm Ukrainians weren’t able to flee the advancing troops. Women and children are being driven to safer areas in the West. Volunteers are daring to drive food and medical supplies from Poland back to eastern Ukraine where fighting rages. Several days ago a good friend of mine and a volunteer of the Hodos Institute texted me that he, like thousands of others, has entered the armed forces. Those who can, continue doing their work to support the Ukrainian economy. Some oppose Russian propaganda via social media, posting the truth about the ongoing situation, calling on Russian Christians to see through their government’s messaging and raise their voices against the war. All are praying day and night!
Merkwaardig, veral, is vir my die slotwoorde van Malov se berig:
Ukrainians long for victory – not just peace, but a just peace. We wait for Western partners to intervene and help us fight the Russians, but we realize the complexity of the situation and don’t blame them for counting the cost. So we fight as we can. I, personally, can’t bring myself to pick up a gun, but I can pray to the One whose name is the Lord of Hosts. “My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth” (Psalm 121:2). Please, keep praying for Ukraine!
Die slot is ’n mengsel van gelowige vertroue, van eenvoudige gebed, van moed put uit die Skrif. Maar ’n mens sien ook sy rype spiritualiteit. Hy veg wel waar hy kan en is bereid om ’n prys te betaal.
Hy is egter ook die wyse jongman wat nie bitter die bevoorregte Westerse lande blameer wat huiwer om hulleself te bloot te stel nie. Hy begryp die ingewikkeldheid van die situasie.
Maar die diepste insig vir my is sy opmerking dat hy hom nie sover kan bring om ’n geweer op te tel nie. Hy is bereid om te veg, maar tot geweld kan hy nie kom nie. Hoe sonder blaam, sonder geweld en hoe blootgestel en kwesbaar kan geloof tog wees. Dit is vredeswoorde, glo ek, wat resoneer met ’n wye beweging, veral in Europa, wat niks van oorlog wil weet nie en wat tot in sy fondamente deur die Russiese geweld geskud is. Dit is ’n beweging wat ’n mens ook sien in die wêreldwye afsku en veroordeling van geweld.
Die diepsinnigheid van Malov se spiritualiteit kom uiteindelik na vore in nog ’n brief wat Negrov stuur. Hy voeg ’n foto van sneeuklokkies wat Malov geneem het. Negrov skryf:
Sasha Malov forwarded to me the picture of white Snowdrops! In the midst of war he is capable to notice the beauty! Snowdrop flowers are emerging from the cold ground. It is one of the first signs that spring is approaching. We also hope that peace in Ukraine is approaching.
Sneeuklokkies in die wintergrond van Oekraïne (Foto: Alexander Malov)
Malov, letterlik in die aangesig van die dood en in lewensgevaar, sien en beleef lewe in die gewone, selfs nietige gang van die natuur. Hy sien die skoonheid daarvan en eien dit vir hom toe terwyl hy tyd maak om dit ook met ander te deel. Oorlog, met sy kille triestigheid, kan die sig en uitkyk op die lig nie verduister nie. Die kwaad, bely die hart van die geloof immers, sal ook verbygaan. Blywend is alleenlik regverdige vrede waaraan geloof onverbiddelik vashou. So seker as wat uit die koudheid van die Oekraïniese wintergrond die sneeuklokkie se skoonheid van die naderende lente vertel, so seker is die aanbreek van vrede.
As Malov se vertellings iets deel van die lewenservaring van mense in die oorlog, is daar ook ander wat dieper vra na die groter prentjie: Hoe kom dit tot hierdie oorlog? Negrov verwys na ’n lang skrywe van Mark R Elliott. Hy was redakteur van die East-West Ministry Report, verbonde aan Asbury Universiteit in Wilmore, Kentucky.
Mark Elliott en sy gesin (Foto: verskaf)
Hy het ’n artikel oor die rol van godsdiens in die Oekraïne-oorlog geskryf met inligting oor die ontstellende invloed van kerke daarop. Sy vraag is: “Putin’s invasion of Ukraine: What’s religion got to do with it?”
Hier is ’n opsomming van wat Negrov in die artikel deel. Dit gee ’n ysingwekkende insig in die rol wat die kerk kan speel in die aanstigting van oorlog, spesifiek ook in Oekraïne. Tog gee Elliott se skrywe terselfdertyd insigte in hoe gelowiges in die Russiese Ortodokse kerk dit waag om van hul leierskap te verskil en die oorlog te veroordeel. Ook hier is nuanse nodig. Die oorlog word ook binne die Russiese kerk heftig veroordeel.
Hierdie reflekterende ontleding van die dinamiek agter die oorlog wil ’n breër prentjie teken. Teenoor die vertelling van die jong Malov waarin hy die ander, ontfermende gesig van die kerk teken, onthul die ontleding van Elliott ’n harde, ongenaakbare gesig van die kerk:
As of February 24, 2022, as Russian air strikes, missiles, and tanks began pouring into an outmatched Ukraine, the Byzantine calculus of symphonia, of a mutually interdependent church and state, devolved into an unholy alliance joining at the hip a predatory Putin and a sycophantic Russian Orthodox Patriarch Kyrill.
Especially over the past decade Patriarch Kyrill has tied the fate of his church to that of his patron Putin, the same tragic mistake made by the same church in its defense of tsarist Russia in its death throes.
Since his accession in 2009, and emphatically since Russia’s moves against Crimea, Donetsk, and Luhansk in 2014, Patriarch Kyrill has sought to enshrine the principle of “Russky mir”, the “Russian World”, which he understands to mean the spiritual and ecclesial union of the Eastern Slavs.
Following the demise of Marxism, Russian Orthodoxy emerged as a substitute state ideology, not only giving the Russian Republic a sacred purpose for its existence, but also energizing the dream of the reconstitution of the old Russian/Soviet empire.
Presuming an East-West spiritual and moral divide, Putin increasingly sees all things Western, including Catholicism and Protestantism on Russian soil, as a threat to Russian Orthodoxy, which is one of the underpinnings of his regime.
In close proximity to notions of the “Russian World” and Orthodox triumphalism is the attendant messianic belief that Patriarch Kyrill and Putin are the world’s last best hope for the preservation of traditional Christian family values, and this in the face of their obscenely lavish lifestyles and out-sized hubris.
Tragically, the Russian Orthodox Church, far from being a check on Putin’s war against Chechnya, anti-Assad forces in Syria, and now Ukraine, supports the Russian autocrat wholeheartedly.
On March 6, 2022, Orthodoxy’s Forgiveness Sunday, in Moscow’s palatial Cathedral of Christ the Savior, Patriarch Kyrill outdid himself going so far as to equate Ukraine with the Prodigal Son.
On February 28, 2022, Kyrill declared in vain that a guarantee of “fraternal relations” would be “our united Orthodox Church represented in Ukraine by the Ukrainian Orthodox Church headed by His Beatitude Onuphry.” Yet four days prior, on the very day the Russian invasion began, Metropolitan Onuphry had already boldly condemned Russian aggression. For the head of the Ukrainian Orthodox Church in communion with Moscow a Russian war against Ukrainians is “a repetition of the sin of Cain, who killed his own brother out of envy”.
On March 2, 2022, this author received an “Appeal to Compatriots” signed by 81 (at the latest count, 375) individuals, mostly Russian Evangelical Baptists and some Pentecostals, condemning the Russian attack on Ukraine in the strongest of terms: “We assess what is happening as a grave sin of fratricide – the sin of Cain, who raised his hand against his brother Abel,” the identical biblical condemnation Ukrainian Orthodox Metropolitan Onufry had laid at the feet of Putin.
As of March 6 nearly 300 Russian Orthodox priests had signed a petition of their own in opposition to the war in Ukraine. Like Ukrainian Metropolitan Onufry and Russian Baptists and Pentecostals in their Appeal, the petition of these exceptionally brave Russian Orthodox priests – but no Russian metropolitans – references Cain’s murder of his brother Abel.
Among those who signed the Evangelical Appeal are dear friends I have known for decades for whom I now have reason to fear. They will suffer for this unless Putin is dethroned.
There is also good reason to fear for the safety of any believer of any persuasion other than Russian Orthodox in any additional Ukrainian territory occupied by Russian forces.
Manifestations of a reign of terror in Ukrainian lands occupied by Russia or its minions in 2014 are numerous and sobering: press slander, fines, harassment, deportations, raids on worship services, robberies, forced closures of church-based orphanages, rehabilitation centers, charities, and seminaries, interrogations utilizing psychological and physical torture, and murder.
Russian Republic violations of freedom of conscience pale before the draconian theocratic regimes now in place in Crimea and the Donbas. Unfortunately, the experience of Crimea, Donetsk, and Luhansk is very likely what is in store for believers not beholden to Kyrill in any additional lands Russian forces wrest from Ukraine.
At present Putin, with Kyrill in tow, is about the destruction of a democratic, religiously tolerant state that is home to arguably the most robust Christian population of any country in Europe. Ukraine, with a population of 44 million, is home to more Orthodox churches than Russia with a population more than three times that of Ukraine (146 million). And the same is true for other Christian confessions and denominations. Despite its smaller size, Ukraine is home to far more energetic and growing populations of Catholics, Baptists, Pentecostals, and Adventists than is Russia.
Two words in Old Church Slavonic, three words in English, are voiced repeatedly in the Orthodox Divine Liturgy: Gospodi pomilui, Lord have mercy. As Ukraine appears on the brink of descent into another Golgotha of Russian captivity, and as Russia, Eastern Europe, and the West all appear to be entering into a time fraught with the greatest danger to world peace since World War II, we cannot repeat too often, Lord have mercy.
* Die fokusprent vir hierdie artikel deur Alexandra Koch is geneem en aangepas van Pixabay.
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