“Do you see any signs of a religious revival in the Soviet Union?
A tourist guide must tire of answering the same questions, even when the guide works for the Soviet government and considers rote replies a professional asset. This one, a seemingly imperturbable woman approaching middle age, had obviously been challenged with similar queries many times before.
“Especially Americans want to know,” she said.
We had just been through the complex of cathedrals that dominate the Kremlin. Looking up from Cathedral Square, the sightseer can hardly help wondering the extent to which the Christian heritage of the Soviet peoples might be recoverable. To the amazement of virtually every newcomer, there are many more crosses than red stars rising above the Kremlin walls. Left over from the czars are a cluster of magnificent cathedrals casting their shadow over the great power center of international Communism. Even though the churches are not “active,” the best architecture, murals, the frescoes within the seventy-acre walled area called the Kremlin continue to speak of a great Christian culture of the past—and perhaps of a potential for the future.
The guide said, as expected, that she did not sense any religious revival going on among the nearly 250 million inhabitants of the Soviet Union. She went on to concede indirectly the existence of certain signs that are interpreted in the West as indications of a spiritual awakening, but for each she gave an alternative explanation.
“On Sunday,” she said, “you can hardly get into the Kremlin cathedrals because of the large crowds.” Oh? “Well, yes, but now icons are very fashionable. It is not a religious feeling that brings the people to the cathedrals. It is a renewed sense of appreciation for ancient art.”
As for actual church services, the guide said they attract mostly old people—“you can go and see for yourself.”
Then, backing up a little, she suggested that when the younger people do attend they go out of curiosity. Her sixteen-year-old son, for example. “He never prays,” as she put it, but he went once just to see what it was like. The “once” turned out to be this past Easter Sunday.
One does not draw sweeping conclusions from a conversation with an Intourist guide. But the little interview conducted as we were leaving the Kremlin did little to disprove reports of revival. The guide was clearly defensive, and one can only wonder why.
Another guide was telling some of the several hundred newsmen covering the summit meetings in Moscow last month that people are going to church “just to hear the singing.” Western correspondents in Moscow confirm that there is a revival of religious interest among the people, as do Soviet intellectuals, though they do not agree on what is behind it.
The visiting newsmen saw no overt signs that Christianity is taking on new life under a system dedicated to atheism. No Jesus people here. No crosses worn as lapel pins or necklaces. No Christian coffee houses. No impressive statistics on Bible sales.
The same question asked of the guide was put to the Reverend Ilia Orlov, a preacher and organist at the Moscow Baptist church. Orlov simply quoted the words of Jesus that the gates of hell would not prevail against the Church.
But what happened in Orlov’s church on May 28 suggested that a resurgence of religious interest is occurring. On that rainy Sunday morning, more than 1,000 persons including President and Mrs. Richard Nixon filled all available seats for the first service. The church had been full for two hours before the start of the 9 A.M. service. Security men were keeping the crowds at a distance. When the Nixons departed and the security men followed, hundreds of people who had been standing in the streets getting soaked rushed into the church and took whatever standing room was left.
The Nixons’ visit to the church may well have been the best thing that ever happened to it. The visit also gave the Christians of the Soviet Union a measure of recognition they had not had since the start of the Revolution more than fifty years ago. Although the church is the only Protestant congregation in a capital city of some seven million, no head of state had ever worshiped there before. If there is indeed a spiritual spark among the Soviet people, this gesture could have helped to fuel it. Even Tass, the official Soviet news agency, recognized the church visit with a six-paragraph dispatch.
There had been no public announcement that the Nixons would go to the church. Obviously, however, some word had been dropped to the congregation. A few repairs and some painting had been done, and strings of birch and lilac branches were strung along the sides of the balcony. The clergymen who took part in the service had appropriate remarks, carefully prepared.
The President and his wife had taken leave of their summit conference hosts that morning. The visit to the church was the only time during their thirteen-day journey through four countries—Austria, Iran, and Poland, besides the Soviet Union—that either of them stepped out in public without ranking government representatives at their sides. Only an interpreter and the President’s top communications man, Herbert Klein, accompanied the Nixons.
It took only a few minutes for the presidential motorcade to transport them to the church from the Kremlin palace where they had been staying. Although not many people were on the sidewalks at that hour, there were more than one would find in an American city at nine o’clock on a dismal Sunday morning. People glanced up somewhat indifferently as the black cars sped by. The Baptist church, originally built for a German congregation some 150 years ago, is located off Pokrovsky Boulevard, a main artery in the Soviet capital (the main Jewish synagogue and the Catholic cathedral in Moscow also are on side streets). The church is housed in an ordinary-looking building painted a mustardy yellow that seems a standard color in parts of the Soviet Union. The building also houses the national offices of the All-Union Council of Evangelical Christians-Baptists, the government-recognized umbrella for virtually all Soviet Protestants.
The President was greeted at the door by the All-Union Council leaders and signed a guest book in the lobby. Mrs. Nixon was given a bunch of red, pink, and white carnations by one of the women of the church. The group proceeded up the center aisle, and the Nixons were seated in the second row. The interpreter beside them translated simultaneously what was said and sung.
The church has a medium-size sanctuary with a high, wood-beamed ceiling supporting three large silver chandeliers. Walls are in a multi-colored pattern of muted shades. At the front of the church is a large window bearing in Russian the words “God Is Love.” Besides the lilac and birch branches festooning the balcony sides, there were hydrangea and tulips in front of the ornate wooden pulpit.
Following an opening prayer by the pastor, the Reverend Michael Y. Zhidkov, forty-four, the congregation stood and sang “All Hail the Power of Jesus’ Name.” Few times in the history of the Church has the singing of a hymn carried more meaning. The rendition deserves to be remembered more than the Titanic passengers’ “Nearer My God to Thee.” The church’s sixty-four-pipe organ was out of order, but perhaps that was just as well under the circumstances.
Then came the Scripture reading, Acts 2:1–18, inasmuch as it was Trinity Sunday, and another prayer, followed by a public welcome to the Nixons by the Reverend Alexei M. Bichkov, also forty-four, who last December was named general secretary of the All-Union Council. Bichkov said, “We cordially greet our esteemed guests on the very Sunday when the Christians of our country celebrate the coming down of the Holy Spirit.” He went on to note that Soviet Baptists had established good relations with Baptists and other denominations in the United States, and added: “We as Christians support in our prayers all that promotes peace and friendship among nations, establishes social justice, secures national liberty and economic progress in all countries, and we testify ‘that God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself.’ ”
His reference was to Second Corinthians 5:19, and his statement Was the only allusion while the Nixons were in the church to the matters that had brought them to Moscow. American and Soviet leaders had signed a number of agreements the week before, including the Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty. Following Bichkov’s statement, the congregation stood in honor of their special American guests. There were few Americans in the church for the service. Some reporters were allowed in, but all photographers were kept outside. Most of the congregation were people in their thirties and forties.
The choir of about eighty voices sang a Russian sacred composition. About two-thirds of them were women, wearing white blouses. The director and the other men wore black suits. The choir sat in the balcony at the rear of the church, cooled by a small electric fan.
An obviously prearranged program provided for a sermon by the Reverend Ilia Ivanov, who as president of the All-Union Council is the dean of Soviet Baptists. He is a distinguished-looking white-haired man who took as his text the familiar passage from Galatians 5: “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance: against such there is no law.” He did not dwell on the latter point, but the symbolism in the context ought not to be overlooked.
Referring literally to the observance of Pentecost, Ivanov said, “This is a special day for Christ’s church.” The hearer was left to draw an inference if he wished about the other sense in which the day was special—as the leader of the free world worshiped in a Christian church at the power center of a world movement that regards the Gospel as a myth no longer needed and destined to oblivion. “It was the springtime of Christ’s church on earth,” he said.
After the sermon the congregation sang “What a Friend We Have in Jesus,” and Mr. Nixon joined in. Zhidkov then explained to the congregation that because of the Nixons’ tight schedule they would have to leave. He bade them good-bye and said “God bless you” in English. The President and his wife had been in the church for half an hour. The service—the first of three held there each Sunday—would go on for another hour and a half.
There was an exchange of gifts. The Nixons were given a specially made reproduction of a painting of Jesus at the Sea of Galilee and a wall plaque showing a girl holding a flower. The church was presented with a covered crystal bowl and a Parker pen with the President’s signature inscribed on it.
The church is one of about 5,000 Protestant congregations recognized by the Soviet Union; total membership of the congregations is officially reported at about 500,000. The Moscow church had about 100 baptisms last year and counts some 5,000 members.
There is reason to be hopeful about the future of evangelical Christianity in the Soviet Union. That there is fresh, relatively young leadership among the Baptists in the persons of Bichkov and Zhidkov (who besides being pastor of the Moscow church is a vice-president of the All-Union Council) is a distinct plus. (Also added to the council membership recently was Jacov Duchonchenko from the Ukraine.) The bear is not going to become tame in the foreseeable future, but fresh, creative minds can deal with him more effectively than battle-weary veterans.
Bichkov was born near Moscow, was converted in 1949, began preaching in 1967, and now is a member of the executive committee of the Baptist World Alliance. Zhidkov is a native of Leningrad whose father was a well-known Baptist leader. The son studied at Spurgeon’s College in London and at MacMaster University in Hamilton, Ontario. He speaks English well.
The challenges these Protestant leaders face, few clergymen in the West would envy. And, understandably, it is not easy to get them to talk about problems, or to talk about anything substantive for that matter. They are aware that both in the free world and in the Soviet Union there are those who regard them as having “sold out” to the government, or worse yet, who think that one or more are puppets of politicians if not KGB informers. These charges do not stand up against thoughtful scrutiny, because no one in the Soviet Union gains anything by being publicly associated with a church. The identification is a social liability in many respects. The only reasonable motivation for it is authentically spiritual.
The clergy of the “headquarters” church are sometimes thought to be favored over other Soviet believers because theirs is the showcase church. But anyone who looks into their situation will learn that the privileges they are supposed to enjoy are a little short of a joke. They may have some small advantages for being in the capital, but on the whole they operate on an austerity program that by American standards is severe.
Nevertheless, allegations against the Soviet Baptist leaders persist and undoubtedly exact a psychological toll. They must feel the worst when the blows are delivered by their own countrymen, and they have had to suffer for a number of years now from the initiativniki, Protestant dissidents who want churches of their own free from any connection with the All-Union Council. The government apparently vows to recognize no more than one group, so the initiativniki operate illegally as an underground church with some support from the free world. While such tension may seem like a problem for the government, the Communist leadership may be taking advantage of it and not conscientiously seeking a settlement. The Communists know that as long as the Protestants are fighting among themselves they pose little threat to the political status quo.
It should be said for the initiativniki that some of them unquestionably have very sincere motivations. People in the Soviet Union do not protest for kicks; they do not demonstrate with the easy abandon of left- and right-wing elements in the United States, where the rights of dissenters are protected by law. As the Economist recently put it, in the Soviet Union even the mildest expression of dissent is severely penalized, “so that any outburst of real violence there reveals an acute intensity of desperation.”
Two incidents in the weeks just before the summit support the theory that there is a growing religious stirring in the Soviet Union that will be hard to suppress. One occurred right in Moscow, at the American Embassy. About fifteen people came all the way from Barnaul, Siberia, some 2,000 miles distant, to air religious grievances. They were described as couples with children. They said that they were not being permitted to worship as they wanted to, and that they were being discriminated against in schools and employment because of their Christian beliefs. According to one report, they said that their church had been burned and that they held the government responsible. Embassy officials allowed them to stay in the building overnight, and Soviet authorities were asked not to take action against them. The group left a statement of grievances before departing.
The other incident was a youth riot that followed a self-immolation in Kaunas, Lithuania. This involved Catholics, and it had perhaps more nationalistic than religious motivation. But as the Economist put it, religious and nationalist grievances in the U. S. S. R. are probably closely intertwined: “Numerous protests have been made to the authorities which show that the protesters speak both as Catholics and Lithuanians.” The magazine offered this thoughtful analysis:
The Lithuanian, Ukrainian, and other non-Russian dissenters who are starting to raise their heads represent a special danger to Mr. Brezhnev. They have long resented the fig-leaf of Soviet federalism, which totally fails to conceal a tightly centralized state with a strong bias in favor of Russian interests. But they have been too frightened, and perhaps too resigned to permanent subjection, to act. Now the remarkable achievement of the Russian Jews in making their plight known, and giving their masters so much trouble that many thousands have been allowed to emigrate to Israel, has clearly had a profound impact on the non-Russian peoples of the Soviet Union. For a long time it had only been the Tartars and a few Ukrainians who were prepared to stick their necks out. Now more of the discontented nationalities are stirring.
Unfortunately, much of the free world uses “Russia” and “Soviet Union” interchangeably and is unaware of the extent to which the vestiges of an old religious culture are still visible there. Actually, Russians now number less than half the Soviet Union’s total population, whose other components have been multiplying faster than the Russians have.
Issues of religious freedom were all but lost in the hard news that enveloped the summit meetings, so it was helpful that the President’s trip called attention to spiritual priorities and nationality interests in other ways. In Kiev, the beautiful capital city of Ukraine, the Nixons visited one of the oldest churches in the world, the magnificent Saint Sophia Cathedral, as their last public event before leaving Soviet soil. Among the things they saw there was the famous mosaic of the Oranta—the Virgin Mary with her arms held up in prayer. This is one of the restored mosaics in the church that date back to the eleventh century, when Yaroslav the Wise built the first parts of the Orthodox cathedral to commemorate a military victory. The Nixons also saw in the cathedral frescoes of Yaroslav’s daughters, four of whom married kings in Europe.
“Those Ukrainian daughters must have been very attractive if they all married kings,” the President said to the guide. She answered that one son also married a princess.
“So Ukrainian blood must be all over the world,” Nixon responded.
“Yes,” she said, “Ukrainian blood is all over the world.”
“In America there are also Ukrainians,” he went on—“in Chicago, in Pittsburgh, in many, many other places.”
The city of Kiev dates back more than 1,400 years. Prince Vladimir introduced Christianity there in the tenth century, and his statue, with cross held high, overlooks the Dnieper River from a picturesque bluff. One prominent historian says there were mass baptisms in the river, and the name of the main street in the city, Kreshchatik, derives from the term for Christian baptism.
While in Moscow, Mrs. Nixon toured two of the cathedrals inside the Kremlin in the company of newsmen. The Cathedral of the Annunciation was erected in the fourteenth century; the Archangel Cathedral goes back to the fifteenth and houses the tombs of a number of the czars. A few days before her visit, some correspondents who were taken through came out reporting that the scene was “quite glorious … to the Western eye because there are a number of the old churches and these onion domes look as if they were gilded yesterday.”
The religious aspects of the summit journey were not entirely limited to cathedral-viewing and church attendance. At least one religious issue came before the summit in a direct way, thanks to persevering Jews. Presidential aide Henry Kissinger assured newsmen that Mr. Nixon broached the plight of Soviet Jewry in the top-level talks. “Soviet leaders are aware of our views on the problem,” Kissinger said. He gave no details on how the matter was brought up, or how the Soviet leaders responded. Kissinger called it a “particularly difficult question” and an “internal problem” for the U. S. S. R.
The Soviets have become surprisingly sensitive to the allegations that Jews are mistreated in their country and that they find it hard to get permission to emigrate to Israel. Several books just published by the Soviet government that seek to counter the charges were made available to newsmen at the press center. The books deny that Soviet Jews are inhibited, an argument that does not seem convincing to those who visit what might be expected to be the showcase synagogue in Moscow, for the building, on which some work is now being done, has been rather neglected. The Soviet propaganda alleges that Soviet Jews who emigrated to Israel have realized their mistake and have begged to come back.
The Soviet minister of culture, Miss Yekaterina A. Furtseva, appeared at a news conference in the press center and during questioning also denied that the government has deprived Jews of the chance to enrich their own cultural consciousness. She suggested that the Jews themselves have lost interest in that pursuit: “Most Soviet Jews are busy building the Soviet society and economy.”
Although some Jews have resorted to violence to attract world opinion and thereby bring pressure on the Kremlin, by and large the campaign has been orderly and conducted within the political process. Would this “establishment approach” or “working within the system” work as well for Protestants?
The answer is not easy, because the problems, though both revolving about religious freedom, are somewhat different. The Jews want primarily to get out; improvement of their opportunities within the country is not the main issue for them as it is for Protestants. Moreover, the problem for Protestants must be worked out through the church leaders who are in office and recognized by the government, and these persons cannot be expected to demand things of the government and attract attention by being vocal. Things have eased up a bit since the days of Khrushchev and Stalin, but Soviet society still does not tolerate open criticism of major government policies. Patience and perseverance are probably the chief virtues to strive for as things now stand.
If, of course, a genuine revival of religious interest and new Christian conviction should sweep the country, that would place the whole situation in a new light.
Hopefully, the summit accords reached in Moscow will encourage even more of a thaw in relations between the Americans and Soviets, which in turn may indirectly increase the opportunity for Christian witness. There seems little doubt, for example, that having more Bibles and Christian literature in the Soviet Union would aid substantially in promoting the Gospel. But the Soviets have continued to be very strict about communication not only from the outside world but within the country. Very little non-Communist literature, religious or secular, is allowed into the country. News dissemination among citizens is also extremely limited.
Some argue that there is no Soviet law forbidding the importation of Bibles or other literature, and that customs officials are simply making administrative decisions in confiscating such materials. If true, this might provide some room for applying diplomatic leverage, formal and informal. As cultural exchanges grow between the United States and the Soviet Union, the prospect of some success will become more promising.
A bigger problem is education. Some scholarship help to deserving young believers in the Soviet Union that would enable them to go to colleges in the West ought to be a priority matter. But even more crucial is education in the lower age brackets, and among children in the Soviet Union the government claims sole responsibility for education. Perhaps some boarding-school arrangements ought to be explored.
Meanwhile, American Christians can do no better than to heed the plea of Ivanov for spiritual fruit, a plea believers regard as embarrassingly familiar but one that has yet to be lived up to even among those who regard themselves as theologically orthodox. The harvest of the Paraclete may be scarce, but truly against such there is no law.
