Bolshevism and Religion in Russia

I

In the world and in man [says Merezhkovsky], there are two poles or contrasts: the passive and the active, the submissive and the heroic, the eternally feminine and the eternally masculine. In the perfect man, the Man-God, these two contrasts are combined. When the Son appeals to the Father, He is passive, submissive, feminine: ‘Not my will, but Thine be done!’ When He addresses the world, He is active, heroic, masculine: ‘I have overcome the world!’ In the Russian people there is only one of these two poles — the religious-feminine. In contrast to the Western Catholic masculine Christianity, the Eastern Byzantine Christianity is feminine. Thus, in the Orthodox religion and the Russian people, we have the doubly feminine, a combination of the feminine and the feminine.

ATTRACTIVE as this crisp definition may be, there are undoubtedly elements in the Russian nature which are not so easily explained — elements from the East, which have not fully blended with those from the West. Thus, we are often confronted with unexpected outbursts on the part of individuals, and sometimes of the whole nation, which speak of lack of balance, an absence of harmony among the ingredients that compose the Russian character. Facts may be quoted proving almost any of the theories that have been put forward to explain the attitude of the Russian people toward the process which has overthrown the autocracy of the Tsar, and is now attacking the foundations of the Orthodox Church; but, nevertheless, all theories are unsatisfactory. The average Russian may with truth be described as in a high degree either brave or cowardly, patient or impatient, honest or dishonest, tolerant or intolerant, humane or cruel. He is all this and more: he is, as has often been said before, a mixture of unblended extremes, from which the only thing that one may definitely and constantly expect is the unexpected.

The Russian writer Leskoff gives a picture of a typical Russian, who sits, day in, day out, behind the counter of his little shop, spending most of his time in quietly sliding backward and forward the balls of his abacus (a counting-frame used in all Russian shops and offices), alternating this occupation by sipping his tea from a saucer which he skillfully balances on three fingers. Here he is the most harmless, the most patient creature in the world. But once or twice in a year, an uncanny feeling steals over him: he becomes restless, just as if a thousand devils were tormenting him. At last his condition becomes unbearable, and he decides to exercise his tormentors. His one and only sovereign remedy is vodka. This he takes at first with caution; but his dose increases, and he is soon engaged in a real orgy, during which he smashes up furniture, hews down trees, tortures gypsies, and destroys whatever comes in his way. When the spell passes, he goes to the public baths, and thence to the Church. Here he penitently throws himself before a Holy Picture, and with his forehead pressed to the mosaic floor, confesses his sin. He rises freed from all his devils, and the next day finds him behind his counter again, with his saucer of tea balanced on his three fingers as usual.

There is little hypocrisy about the average Russian; he is one of the sincerest of men. He is childlike in his faith; and when he has confessed and been forgiven, his sin troubles him no more. He has literally laid the burden of it all on his God.

Quoting Constantine Aksakoff and B. Rozanoff, Merezhkovsky continues: —

The essence of Russian history is abnegation, renunciation of authority, religious anarchy within a political monarchy. Sovereignty never tempted the Russian people; the people never strove to dress itself in state authority; but by giving up this authority to its chosen sovereign, itself wished to remain in its own vital, feminine, submissive element. It is just as if the Russian people separated from itself all that it had of the masculine, and gave it up to the ruling autocrat. All that was masculine in Russia was concentrated in the Tsar. The Tsar fell, and this fell, too, leaving only the absolute feminine. Instead of conscience, remained instinct. The religious instinct of the Russian people had been deceived by orthodoxy and autocracy. The Tsar was from God; while there was a Tsar, there was God; the Tsar ceased to exist, God also ceased to exist. This is why the transition to complete atheism was as easy as going into a bath and bathing in new waters: unchristening was accomplished in a moment.

There may be much truth in what Merezhkovsky says, but all his absolutisms hardly seem to be borne out by historical facts.

The Tsar was nominal head of the Orthodox Church. He fell in March, 1917; but there is no evidence to show that the Church fell too, or that any considerable antireligious movement became general among the people. On the whole, the churches continued to attract worshipers; the people performed their devotions before Russia’s many shrines; in Moscow, foot-passengers, cabmen, the fares in street-cars, continued to bare their heads and cross themselves on passing a church.

These were the ordinary outward signs of religious feeling, and, as such, may have been mere habit, which could not be thrown off in a moment; they are not conclusive proof that the heart of the people had remained unchanged. But, surely, if there had been a general change in the people’s faith, these symbols of religion would gradually disappear, and there would arise some hostility toward the Church, which had proved such a deceiver. There were no great outbursts against the Church. Atheism was widely expressed, it is true, among the so-called ‘Intelligentsia,’ but this had been openly preached by them for two-score years, and was not a product of the revolution; and the Intelligentsia was certainly not the ‘people.’

The March Revolution was rather unreligious than antireligious; the people acquiesced in it for economic reasons, but showed no hostility to the Church. Indeed, the Church itself was, in the main, with the people in this revolution: neither the one nor the other played any serious part in it, but just accepted it. The active antireligious elements came from abroad, later. Look even now at the leaders of Bolshevist Russia: Lenin, Trotsky, Zinovieff, Kamenieff, Radek, Litvinov, Chicherin, and the rest. Few of the men who grasped the reins of government were in Russia in the spring of 1917. Few of them are of Russian nationality. They are the men who made the October Revolution: the Russian people as a whole had little active part in it then, except as instruments; just as they have had little more than a passive part since. Russia’s great millions are being herded and persecuted by a few men, mostly aliens, suffering untold privations, slaughtered in their thousands, yet still clinging to their religion. Their strange passivity may perhaps be explained by the peculiarly strong ‘feminine’ characteristic which Merezhkovsky ascribes to them.

Many Russian writers emphasize the Russian’s deep consciousness of his own sinfulness. He goes to the Church for relief, rather than for strength to help him resist temptation in the future. He is convinced that he cannot resist; but he is just as convinced that the Church will cleanse him again. How can a man bear a lasting grudge against such an indulgent church? He may scoff at religion for a time; but all the while he knows that he will eventually come back and be forgiven. It is just to this extremely indulgent attitude that the Church owes its power over the Russian people. The Church was, in the past, a bridge which spanned the gulf between the aristocracy and the peasantry: it was the one thing they had in common.

The Tsar was the nominal head of the Church. Under him the Church was governed by the Holy Synod, at the head of which was the Procurator, a layman, who was in fact the minister of religion, being a member of the government. After the March Revolution, the Provisional Government appointed V. N. Lvoff as Procurator of the Holy Synod; and a convocation of bishops met in Moscow on August 15, 1917. This convocation was one of the greatest things in the history of the Russian Church: it decided to revive the patriarchate, which had been abrogated by Peter the Great two hundred years before; and steps were taken to elect a patriarch.

Three candidates were chosen by the members of the convocation — the metropolitans of Kharkoff, Novgorod, and Moscow. The names were written on slips of paper, and placed in an urn before the Vladimir Ikon of St. Mary, which had been brought to St. Saviour’s Cathedral. The choice among the three was left to ‘the Will of God’; and while the who!e convocation was bowed in prayer, a bishop drew out one of the slips: it bore the name of Tikhon, Metropolitan of Moscow, who was now proclaimed duly elected Patriarch of Moscow and All Russia. (Tikhon had spent some years in America as a missionary.)

The election took place while the eight-day street battle for supremacy was in progress at Moscow, between the Bolsheviki and the Provisional Government. It was fortunate that the election had not been delayed, for the Bolsheviki now had to deal, not with a Church without a head, but with an organized body, which had the universal support of the people. The patriarchate was not an innovation, but simply a return to the old constitution of the Orthodox Church; and there was no question that the restoration was popular. In the fall of the Tsar, the Church had lost its lay head, but it had regained its ancient spiritual head.

II

Tikhon was enthroned on November 21, 1917. The ceremony took place at the Uspensky Cathedral in the Kremlin. The cathedral, throne, and vestments were the same used by Patriarch Nikon; and no one had worn the vestments or sat on the throne since Peter suspended the Patriarchate in 1721.

After the liturgy [says Proto-Hierarch A. Rozhdestvensky, in his description of the ceremony] the new Patriarch, accompanied a procession round the Kremlin, which he sprinkled with Holy Water. The attitude of the Bolsheviki toward this ceremony was peculiar. They did not then feel themselves complete masters of the situation, and had taken up no definite aggressive position with regard to the Church, although their hostility was clear. The soldiers on guard at the Cathedral itself behaved very negligently; they did not bare their heads when the ikons and gonfalons passed; they smoked, talked loudly, and laughed. The Patriarch appeared from the Cathedral, a seemingly bent old man, in his round cowl surmounted by the cross, enveloped in the blue mantle of Patriarch Nikon; and I saw the soldiers momentarily bare their heads and rush toward the Patriarch, to receive his blessing through the railings. It was clear that their former attitude had been only superficial bluster, the fashion of the times; but now we saw their real feelings, the result of centuries of training.

The Church was very fortunate in their new Patriarch. Tikhon seemed to be an ideal man for his high position in those difficult times. He was as pacific as his name (which means ‘peaceful’), but he was not weak, and he possessed an unusual amount of tact. He upheld the dignity and splendor of the Church; but in his private life and personal habits he was one of the simplest of men. The humblest as well as the highest had free access to their Patriarch, and they made such use of this privilege, that the archbishops advised Tikhon to ‘make himself less cheap,’ as his arduous round of duties would surely tell upon his health, and he must conserve his energies.

But Tikhon would not hear of any limitation to his accessibility: he received all, and gave them comfort, sympathy, and advice. He personally held services wherever he could, not only in Moscow, but also in other towns. The Soviet Government ordered that he should travel as an ordinary citizen, and he raised no protest; but the railway porters defied the Government, and on their own initiative placed a special carriage at his disposal. On his visit to Bogoroditsk, the industrial centre of the Moscow province, he was received by the workmen just as they had formerly received the Tsar. They erected a grand pavilion at short notice: the streets were literally full of people, among whom the Patriarch moved as freely as a shepherd among his flock. There had been fears that disturbances would be caused by the soldiery; but his visit was an unmixed triumph. The same must be said of his visits to Yaroslavl, Petrograd, and other places. At Yaroslavl the commissars themselves were forced to take part in his reception; they even dined with him, and all were photographed in the same group. The splendor of his reception at Petrograd, arranged by the people in spite of the Government, is reported to have been such as had never been witnessed there before.

The Bolsheviki moved cautiously against the Church. They began by placarding public places with the legend: ‘Religion is a narcotic for the people,’ and removing ikons from public places. Later, these ikons were, in some cases, allowed to be put back; and I can remember as late as 1920 seeing ikons in their usual places in such an official institution as the Academy of the General Staff at Vozdvizhenka, Moscow. The Bolsheviki seemed to recognize that the temper of the people was not yet sufficiently under control for drastic measures against the Church; so they declared that atheism and all forms of religion were private matters of conscience, and not to be disturbed so long as they did not interfere with the interests of the State. They organized regular antireligious lectures at public places, and especially among the soldiers of the Red Army. At first, they removed religion from among the compulsory subjects on the school programmes, but left it there as an optional subject. Soon they found that practically all the children took this subject just as formerly, and they forbade its being taught at all in the schools. At the beginning of July, 1922, they decreed that the baptism of infants should cease, but that any person over eighteen might be baptized if he wished. They also issued another decree, that no children under eighteen years should be employed in any way on church premises, either for payment or voluntarily. Now they have issued a decree that all Bibles and books dealing with religious subjects shall be removed from schools and public libraries, ‘so that the children and workmen shall not be subject to their pernicious influence.’

For the first four years of their rule, the Bolsheviki contented themselves in the main by carefully concentrating their efforts on the youth of the country and the Red Army. All the old elementary schools were closed in the course of 1918, or reorganized into the ‘Uniform Labor School,’ where religious instruction was strictly banned, and its place in the programme occupied by lectures on materialism and antireligion generally. Attempts were made by parents to give their children religious instruction at home; but it is difficult to estimate the success of their efforts, for, although the vast majority of the old teachers remained religious and antiBolshevist, the new Communistic teachers in the schools sought to undermine the influence of the home, and fostered among the children the spirit of insubordination to their parents. The general economic difficulties of parents also, with starvation literally staring them in the face all the time, deprived them of leisure in which they might look after their children’s spiritual welfare. This applies more to the larger towns than to the country, and especially to Moscow and Petrograd, where the people had only one interest — how to obtain food and fuel.

This state of things lasted till the spring of this year, when the Soviet Government introduced their ‘New Economic Policy,’ which allowed private persons to buy and sell. The food situation improved in the towns; but the villages, which until now had been living on the products of the soil in their immediate neighborhood, were overwhelmed by a great calamity. They had been forced to relinquish their reserves, as ‘taxes in kind,’ to the Government; and now that the crops had failed, they were reduced to starvation. In the course of a few months, in spite of the relief work of foreign organizations, over a million persons are admitted by the Soviet Government to have died of hunger.

Under these circumstances, the Soviet Government saw their opportunity of dealing the Church a serious blow and destroying its authority with the people. They declared that the Church was indifferent to the sufferings of the people; that, although men were dying like flies, and the churches were stored with treasure which might go far to relieve the general distress, the ‘greedy priests and monks’ would not part with their wealth for such a humane purpose. Gold and gems, they said, had many times in the past been yielded up by the Church to the Tsars, to help them prosecute unjust wars, and even since the Revolution had been given to antiBolshevist forces, for the purpose of carrying on civil war against the people.

The Patriarch appealed to the Government for permission to organize relief for the famine-stricken people, for which purpose the Church would realize some of the valuables with which the churches were adorned. The Government refused to allow the Church, or any other internal organization, to administer relief except through the Government. The Patriarch demanded some guaranty that the Church treasure would really be used only for famine relief, but the Soviet Government would not allow any form of supervision. A decree was issued by the Government that churches and monasteries should give up all their precious metals and gems. The Patriarch issued instructions that the Church treasures should not be delivered; and in March, 1922, the Government began to send commissars, supported by soldiers and militia, to the churches, in order to sequestrate all valuables. Most of the priests were against the Government’s forcible measures, and either actively or passively resisted the sequestrating parties. Such a persistent campaign had been carried on by the Government through the press (which is a State monopoly), that the people were in great measure undecided as to what they should do. They were, on the whole, willing to strip their churches to relieve the famine districts; but most of them were convinced that a great proportion would be used for foreign propaganda, or find its way into the commissars’ private pockets.

In many places fighting took place between the sequestrating parties and the people; but, as the latter had no sort of organization, all opposition was overcome by the soldiery, but at the price of much bloodshed. In the early stages of the sequestration campaign, in March and April, 1922, there were serious disorders, with considerable loss of life, at Shuya, Smolensk, Tver, Moscow, Petrograd, and lesser disorders all over the country. The Soviet Government had, however, gained many followers among the people and some among the Clergy, so that sections of the community generally took the side of the sequestrators. The Government had already taken stock of all the treasures in the various churches, which made concealment futile. Nevertheless, countless cases of concealment took place, but the Government had a simple course of action which suited all such occasions: they arrested all the priests and laymen connected with the church in question, and brought them before the tribunal, accused of stealing State property and, what was more serious, of resisting the measures of the Government. The most frequent penalty in such cases was death, and every day the Soviet official papers contained some such announcement as: ‘Four priests (Svetozaroff, Rozhdestvensky, Yazikoff, Pokhlebkin) have been sentenced to death at Shuya for resisting the sequestration of Church valuables’ (April 30); ‘Twelve persons, including nine church dignitaries, have been condemned to be shot at Moscow for opposing sequestration parties of Church treasure’ (10th May); ‘Bishop Arsenius of Siberia has been sentenced to death by the Soviet Revolutionary Tribunal’ (19th July).

These extracts have been taken purely at random. It is impossible at the present time to give any approximately adequate account of the martyred Russian priests and laymen who have died for their faith since the Revolution, as all records are in the hands of the Bolshevist authorities, and reports have been published of only some of their victims. In an article on ‘Church and State,’ written last April, Metropolitan Eulogius stated that, according to the Bolsheviki’s own published statistics, they had killed twentyeight bishops and over twelve hundred priests, up to that date.

III

By means of the famine and their sequestration policy, the Bolsheviki had managed to split the Church into two camps; they now turned their attention to the Patriarch himself. Patriarch Tikhon’s attitude toward the Bolsheviki had, in the main, been forbearing; but on one or two occasions he had boldly denounced them in public for their attacks on religion.

On the first anniversary of the Bolshevist Revolution, in 1918, Tikhon publicly anathematized all the members of the Bolshevist Government for their persecution of religion and priests. They had, at this time, ’nationalized’ all the property of the Church, so that the priests were left to live on charity, with the Government agitating against them among the people. Private property of all kinds was at this time abolished, buying and selling was prohibited. The people were divided in to categories for the distribution of food by the State, some categories receiving more, others less.

Religion had not been nationalized, therefore the priests werc not included in any categories: they had no foodcards, and by living they were actually committing a crime, for they were forbidden to buy food or anything—they were left to starve.

Tikhon was then subjected to house arrest, and this continued with intermittent relaxation for three and a half years. He was allowed to carry out the functions of his high office, but his movements were restricted.

The Bolsheviki still seemed uncertain how far they might venture against the Patriarch. In the first week of May, 1922, they summoned him to appear as a witness before the Revolutionary Tribunal, in the trial of a number of laymen and church dignitaries. He was called and appeared under his lay name, Vassily Ivanovich Bellavin, a simple old man; but when he entered the court, all the spectators instinctively rose, and even the tribunal was awed for a time. From the witness-box, Tikhon blessed the spectators, and then submitted to cross-questioning. In a quiet, firm voice, but without defiance, he answered all questions and defended the attitude of the priests and himself. They acted, he said, according to the canons of the Church; it was not for him or them to judge whether these canons were or were not legal, as he and they were simply ministers, servants of God.

Even the Bolshevist papers were forced to admit that Tikhon bore himself with simple dignity in his humiliating position — the Patriarch of Moscow and All-Russia in a Bolshevist court! The Soviet Government did not gain any advantage from this crossquestioning of the Patriarch, and the chairman of the tribunal said, ‘Citizen Bellavin, you may go.’ Tikhon went home, but he was not left long in peace.

By their sequestration policy the Bolsheviki had seen what priests were inclined to side with the existing Government; and by appealing to the ambition and lower instincts of some of these, they induced them to agitate for a reform of the Orthodox Church. There were numerous arguments at the service of these agitators, but the strongest was addressed to the ‘White Order,’ inciting them to demand the same privileges, without the restrictions, as the ‘Black Order’ of priests.

Now the difference between these two orders is very great: the higher offices in the Church, from that of bishop upward, are filled by priests of the Black Order. These are celibates, and come from the monasteries. A priest of the White Order may occupy only the lower positions, and he must marry once. If his wife dies, he may not marry again, but may enter a monastery and become a member of the Black Order, with all the privileges of a bachelor. All the parochial priests belong to the White Order. Before the Revolution they were poorly paid, and relied chiefly on the offerings of their parishioners. When the Bolsheviki nationalized all property, these priests were left destitute; but, in this respect, they were no worse off than the Black Clergy.

The most prominent among the agitators for reform were Bishop Antonin and a White priest named Krasnitsky. Bishop Antonin had already been publicly accused of atheism, and was of very doubtful character. His colleague, Krasnitsky, has since tried to prove him insane, and to have him placed in a lunatic asylum; but he is still at large and is at present head of the ‘Church Administration’ which the Bolsheviki have called into being. Krasnitsky is a clerical agent of the Soviet Government. In the name of religious reform, his task is to destroy religion, just as, in the name of liberty, the temporal Bolsheviki have destroyed liberty.

Now, when the time was considered ripe, a deputation of priests, including these two men, waited on Patriarch Tikhon and requested him to abdicate. What arguments they used is not known, but on May 12, 1922, the Patriarch is purported to have written and signed a paper to the following effect: —

In view of the extreme difficulties of the Church administration, which have brought me before the secular court, I consider it in the interests of the Church, until the meeting of the Convocation, temporarily to place at the head of the Church administration one of the Metropolitans.

This came as a great blow to all Orthodox Russians. They had felt that, whatever happened, their Patriarch would not leave them, but would, if necessary, die at his post. The so-called ‘abdication’ seemed so unlike Tikhon’s usual attitude toward his duty, that it took his flock completely by surprise. Yet it is noteworthy that among the people one seldom hears the Patriarch blamed: they wait for some explanation, with the great patience which Russians sometimes show. Their mild, but firm, Tikhon had on several occasions openly denounced the Bolsheviki, without taking any account of his own personal safety; surely no personal motives induced him to leave his post now.

They await an explanation of what took place between the Bolshevist priest-agents and the Patriarch, on that fatal May night. Their faith in Tikhon was so great that, if it were proved that he acted on unworthy motives, many would lose what remains of their faith in their God.

It is unlikely that Tikhon was moved by selfish or cowardly reasons; his whole irreproachable past promises us the contrary. According to the most likely rumors, Antonin and Krasnitsky convinced him that his immediate removal was certain in any case, and that he dare not risk leaving the Church without a head; but this does not explain why he appointed ‘one of the Metropolitans’ as his deputy, and not one particular Metropolitan by name. The indefinite nature of the appointment was little better than no appointment at all; for it gave the authority to no one, and removed responsibility from all.

The Church was left without a leader, and Tikhon retired to the Donskoi Monastery at Moscow, from which, according to various reports, he will shortly be brought to trial before the Bolshevist secular ‘court,’ on a charge of resisting the sequestration of Church property.

A few days after Tikhon’s retirement, Bishop Antonin published a violent article written by himself, under the title, ‘Bring Tikhon to Justice.’

The Metropolitans were ignored, and under the auspices of the Bolshevist Government a ‘Supreme Church Administration’ was formed, with Bishop Antonin at its head and Krasnitsky as his deputy. These two, with others, created a church-reform party, to which they gave the attractive name of ‘The Living Church’; and they announced that a Convocation, a sort of ‘Church Constituent Assembly,’ would be called in the early autumn; but as yet there has been no such convocation.

IV

Since Tikhon’s retirement, the process of dissolution in the Church has been very rapid, and dissension has been fostered with great skill by the Soviet Government. The Supreme Church Administration contained elements which could not harmonize, and an occasional touch from the Government unbridled the passions of the unruly men who were nominally administering the affairs of the Church. Krasnitsky quarreled with Antonin, seized the seals of the Church, and issued his own orders, in spite of protests from his chief.

A ‘Congress’ was called at the beginning of August, not of the whole Church, but of the so-called ‘LivingChurch Party.’ The Bolshevist Government placed the ‘Third House of the Soviets’ at the disposal of this Congress, which declared that it had the powers of a Church Constituent Assembly, and passed a resolution that, in future, the highest ecclesiastical authority should be the Convocation, which should meet every three years; and all the executive power should be concentrated in the Supreme Church Administration.

This was only a confirmation of the powers which the Supreme Church Administration had already usurped and exercised during the last two and a half months. It announced at the Congress that it bad deprived twentyfour bishops of their sees; and the Congress formally dismissed thirty-six more. The number of priests who had been driven out of their parishes with the aid of the Soviet Red soldiers is not definitely known; but the isolated accounts of such methods which come through indicate that there are very many such cases.

Either before or after ‘dismissal,’ such bishops and priests are usually arrested and tried by the Soviet tribunal for counter-revolution, or obstructing the sequestration of Church property. They are shot, banished to remote parts of Russia, or sentenced to long terms of imprisonment with hard labor. A few are ‘converted,’ and agree to serve in the new party; but, on the whole, the priests have proved worthy of their holy calling, and meet their fate with the same unflinching courage as did the martyrs of old.

Where there are so many laymen and priests who have quietly died for their religion, it seems unfair to emphasize the fate of individuals, except to typify the bearing of the hundreds and thousands who face death like Nature’s real gentlemen. The Western world is apt to mistake Russia’s disease for Russia, and has no idea of the sterling self-sacrificing qualities which may be found in the average Russian individual. We hear much about Russia’s extremes, and judge her by them; but Russia also abounds in types of the highest manhood.

These types, and others, are being martyred in their thousands, while the rest of the civilized world remains comparatively indifferent, or interested in Russia only so far as she may, or may not, be or become a profitable market for merchandise. Just as we glory in what our fathers unselfishly did, or are said to have done, for the purpose of freeing the world of oppression, future generations may blush at the part we are playing, the paltry concessions we are trying to negotiate with the dregs of humanity, who are soaking Russia’s vast plains with Christian blood and tears.

What does the world know of Mgr. Benjamin, Metropolitan of Petrograd? He was brought before the Soviet tribunal last June, condemned to death because he would not deny his religion, and shot. He is said to have been offered his life, if he would make a written appeal for it to the Central Executive Committee of the Soviets. He refused, saying that he was ready to render his account to his God, but had committed no crime against the Bolshevist Government. The Soviet’s hired assassin placed a revolver at the back of his neck and shot him. He is merely a type of the Russian Christians who uncomplainingly die violent deaths while Christian Europe arranges her Genoas and Hagues, and Christian America looks on. Outside the court, the people stoned a priest named Vedensky for giving evidence against Benjamin; but the soldiers rescued him. He has since been made Red Metropolitan of Siberia, in the place of Arsenius, who was martyred.

The self-appointed Supreme Church Administration passed a resolution at the party Congress that all churches should cease to pray for the Patriarch, that his name should in no way be mentioned in the Church services, and that the coming Convocation should be ‘instructed’ to unfrock him.

But there were numerous scenes of uproar at the Congress, during which priests and layman hurled invective at one another. The priest Krasnitsky installed himself in the chair and opened the first sitting with a notable speech, in which he demanded that steps should be taken to ‘clear away all the reactionary bishops and fill their places with the rank and file of the White Clergy.’ Their tactics, he said, must be revolutionary: they must follow the example of the Soviet Government, and sweep away all their enemies. This was the reason why they had excluded all the reactionary elements from their Congress.

Bishop Antonin, the nominal head of the party, was present; but, strange as it may seem, he was allowed there only as an observer, without the right to speak or vote. He petitioned his subordinates, and at last was allowed to address the gathering.

Antonin began by complaining of the treatment he was receiving, and declared that he was against the admission of the White Clergy to the higher offices of the Church. But he was not allowed to proceed: the chairman Krasnitsky cut him short by fiercely declaring, ‘We have thrown off the yoke of episcopal monks! Shall we be bayed by this remnant, this Bishop Antonin?’ Antonin angrily left the Congress, resigned his position, and formed a new party, which he called ‘The Church-Revival Party.’ Many others, notably the priest Kryloff, left the Congress in disgust. Some returned to the main body of Orthodox believers, now an illegal body; others joined Antonin’s new party.

As reflected by the press, the Soviet Government were in high glee at the discord they had produced in the ranks of the clergy. They now declared: ‘Mischief, thou art afoot; take thou what course thou wilt! The Government, being communist and atheist, can take no sides, but only deplore the fact that Christians are so quarrelsome.’

But they were not quite so easy about the effect of their measures on the people. Izvestia, the official organ of the Government, wrote: ‘We have stirred up a hornet’s nest; we have created a bedlam’; and continues to explain that

whenever a leader of the ‘Living-Church’ Party appears in public, he is greeted with abuse. His sermons are interrupted; groups of disturbers ostentatiously leave the church and arrange meetings outside. If you go to any place where Bishop Antonin attempts to conduct a service or address a meeting, you may fancy you are in a madhouse.

‘Some able hand is guiding the people’s indignation,’ said one of the Soviet newspapers; ‘there are disturbances in every part of the country’; but it did not explain the rigorous and cruel methods employed to quell religious disturbances.

Shortly before this party Congress was opened, the Soviet press announced that the former Procurator of the Holy Synod, V. N. Lvoff, had been enrolled in the Supreme Church Administration. This man was present and made one of the most violent of the speeches.

We must comb out the clergy [he said]. I failed in 1917, but I shall not fail again. I shall make a thorough clearance of all reactionary and ‘black-hundred’ members who have crept into our parish Soviets. Down with all counter-revolutionary elements! Long live the White Clergy and the new Church movement.

The Congress closed in disorder, having considerably increased the chaos which had so rapidly developed in the administration of the Church. Antonin appealed to the Soviet Government to support his new Church-Revival Party, and proclaim his administration as supreme in all Orthodox Church matters; but the rival administrations were left by the Soviets to fight it out between themselves. The result was that further splits occurred and new parties were formed. In the middle of October the Soviet Government announced that it had confirmed the establishment of a new Supreme Church Administration, composed of representatives of the Living-Church Party, the ChurchRevival Party, and the Left Wing of the Living-Church Party, including both priests and laymen.

It has since been proved that the new administration is a sub-section of the Agitation Department of the Communist Party, and receives all instructions for reform directly from the Central Committee of the Communist Party, in Moscow.

V

The Soviet Government has severely crippled the Orthodox Russian Church, but it has not abolished religion. On the contrary, there is unquestionable evidence to show that, independent of the fate of the Established Church, there is a great revival of religious feeling among all sections of the community.

The martyred Russian Church has become more powerful in Russia than ever it was in the recent past, when it flourished outwardly as an organ of the government. In the words of Professor Pitirim-Sorokin, the well-known sociologist of Petrograd University, who was among the first of the banished Russian Intelligentsia to cross the frontier, —

The peasantry and factory workers now flock to the churches. But few of them will have anything to do with the priests of the new parties. The persecuted priests who have remained true to their faith are regarded by the masses with feelings akin to veneration. The stoicism with which they are bearing their hard lot has won the general respect of all. The people visit the churches quite independent of the services, and pray before the Holy Ikons as of yore, but in greater numbers. Open opposition to the measures of the Soviet Government is not frequent, for the people are well acquainted with the ruthless hand of the godless authorities, and are, for the time being, cowed. But a great, though smothered, religious enthusiasm is growing in volume; and this in the Russian nature may easily develop into religious frenzy, which, in its turn, may sweep away the godless usurpers of power and spoilers of the Church, like so many flies.

But there is a still more notable thing, which may prove a factor in turning the tide. The remnants of the Russian Intelligentsia, who formerly adopted a negative attitude toward religion, or made irreligion their boast, are now seeking comfort in the Church, too. Many well-known men who were socialists and atheists now prostrate themselves before the Ikons in the churches, and feel no shame. These are the people who have been changed by the Revolution. They are extremely few in number, but they may yet play their part as leaders of the people in a spontaneous general crusade against the persecutors of the Faithful.

There is, however, one important fact, which should not be lost sight of. The youth of the country has for nearly five years been under the direct influence of the governing atheists, who have endeavored to teach them to scoff at religion. It cannot with any certainty be said what the results of this Bolshevist campaign have been; but it may be presumed that there are tens, perhaps hundreds, of thousands of children and young people with little experience of pre-Bolshevist life, who now regard Christianity as a creed outworn. These are the instruments with which the Bolsheviki hope to consolidate their usurped position. The results among children of their teachings of socialism, communism, and free love are reflected to some extent by the official figures regarding child-criminals; and it should not be overlooked that the Soviet attitude toward unpolitical and unreligious crime is very indulgent.

In 1921 the punishment of childcrime was distributed among three commissariats (Education, Health, Justice). The Government official paper, the Izvestia, stated in August that the Commissariat for Education had dealt with 54,424 child-criminals in the course of 1921. The numbers of adults and children brought before the Commissariat for Justice in 1920 and 1921 are as follows: —

The following criminal adults and children were sentenced to various punishments: —

No separate figures for children convicted at this commissariat are available, and the same may be said with regard to the Commissariat for Health; but the Izvestia states that, from 1920 to 1922, street crimes in Russia increased by 240 per cent; in 1920, the proportion of children to the total number was 6 per cent, in 1922, it was 10 per cent.

The rank and file of the Red army consists of young men who were from 14 to 16 years old at the outbreak of the Revolution; and among them the Bolsheviki have found fertile ground for their negative doctrines. All the soldiers on a peace basis are required to devote seven hours a day to training, of which two hours must be spent in attending political and antireligious lectures, or studying political and antireligious subjects. In their barracks and in their training they are cut off from religious influences; yet reports say that many of them find their way into the churches, where they worship before the holy pictures. It is impossible, however, to know the real attitude of the Red soldiers toward religion, as we cannot know how far the widespread display of atheism among them is real or feigned.

The Bolsheviki seem to realize that they cannot stamp out religion in the adult population of Russia: the most they can do is to sow discord among believers, so that they may have no considerable united body to threaten them.

With the rising generations they hope for better results, and that the total disappearance of religion from Russia is only a matter of time. There may be many opinions as to whether religion is to become the factor that will overthrow the present régime; but there can be little doubt that, if it were overthrown at the present time, the Russian Church would immediately become the greatest force in the country. The Church would be independent, and purified by its martyrdom; for the dissenting clergy have no real following among the people. The Orthodox Russian Church is the one, perhaps the only, institution to which all Russians owe allegiance, the most democratic thing in all Russia.

The autocracy of the Tsar [says Merezhkovsky] was a pyramid with its apex pointing upward: the individual enslaving all. The autocracy of the people is also a pyramid, but with its apex pointing downward: the individual enslaved by all. Orthodoxy, or the religious idea of the autocracy, was the axis round which autocracy turned, and it remained practically untouched by the Revolution, not understood. On this axis the pyramid easily turned over, pointing its apex downward; with like ease it will turn back, and point its apex upward again.

To-day, since writing the above, I have received news from Moscow that the Bolshevist Government is arranging a series of anti-religious meetings, burlesque religious processions, and blasphemous plays, on the occasion of the coming Christmas festival. The commission appointed to organize this Bolshevist Christmas is headed by the Bolshevist poet-laureate, Demian Biedny, and the prominent Communist Gorodetsky. The performances are to be given at Moscow, Petrograd, and other big towns.

A few days ago, Bishop Averkius was sentenced to two years’ imprisonment at Zhitomir.

At Yekaterinoslav, Bishop Agafit and Bishop Jonathan have been arrested this week.