Caption (above): Saint Andrew’s Russian Orthodox Cathedral in Philadelphia (Photo | Wikimedia commons)
By Thom Nickels
As a member of a Russian Orthodox parish in Philadelphia, Saint Michael the Archangel in Northern Liberties, the tragedy unfolding in Ukraine has a special significance for the congregation.
Some members hail from third or fourth generation Russian families, while others consider themselves both Ukrainian and Russian. Converts from Roman Catholicism and Protestantism—Irish, Italian and English members—can also be seen at Divine Liturgy on Sundays and feast days. Mixed marriages are also not uncommon. One spouse may be Orthodox, the other Catholic. A former pastor of the parish, Archpriest Father Vincent Saverino, a former Catholic who died in 2018, once boasted that he had “not one ounce of Russian blood.”
You will not find the word ‘Russian’ listed in front of the word ‘Orthodox’ on the signage in front of the church. I’m not sure why the word ‘Russian’ was left out but several years ago some in the parish discussed whether to include the word ‘Russian’ or to insert ‘Eastern’ in front of ‘Orthodox.’
Since no action was taken on the signage, to the average passer-by the church is just Orthodox, which can mean anything—Serbian, Romanian, Ukrainian, Albanian, etc., although the three bar cross on top of the towering steeple (the church was built as a German Reformed church in 1874) might identity the church as Russian to those in the know.
My parish sits in a multi-block complex of Orthodox churches in Philadelphia’s Northern Liberties neighborhood settled by Eastern European immigrants in the early 1900s.
Saint Andrew’s Russian Orthodox Cathedral, two blocks from my parish, is recognizable by its impressive blue onion domes. Construction on St. Andrew’s began in 1897 when 1,200 Russian naval officers were sent as builders by the Czar.
Nearly 600,000 immigrants from Central and Eastern Europe migrated to the city between 1890 and 1914, and many settled in the Northern Liberties area so that very quickly the area began to be known as ‘Slavic Europe in microcosm.’
Saint Andrew’s cathedral makes no attempt to hide its Russian identification, although during the years of the Cold War the pastor there, the Rev. Mark Shinn, told me that the church was frequently vandalized or viewed as ‘the enemy’ because of the word ‘Russian.’
Two blocks from St. Andrew’s is Saint Nicholas Ukrainian Orthodox Church, perhaps the most beautiful Orthodox Church in the city. Across the street from St. Nicholas is the gold domed Ukrainian Catholic cathedral, part of the Eastern Rite of the Catholic Church with its distinctive ‘Orthodox’ liturgy and customs (married priests). A Romanian Orthodox church and a Slovakian Catholic church of the Latin rite complete this interesting neighborhood of churches.
Several years prior to Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, there was a schism in the Orthodox world when, on Jan. 5, 2019, the Orthodox Church of Ukraine, a separate body with zero ties to Russia, was granted self-governing status by the head of Orthodox Church in Constantinople.
This “new” Church now stood in “opposition” to the Ukrainian Orthodox Church (Moscow Patriarchate, UOC-MP), which is part of the Russian Orthodox Church.
The creation of this new Orthodox body created a division between the Moscow and the Ecumenical Patriarch of Constantinople, who some regard as “the first among equals in the Orthodox Church.” While Constantinople (the city is never referred to as Istanbul in Orthodoxy) may have played an important part in the early history of Christianity, the Islamic majority city today has few Christian residents, causing many over the years to proclaim Russia as the real future of Orthodoxy.
The Russian Church’s refusal to acknowledge the “new” Ukrainian Church resulted in the Moscow Patriarchate’s decision to end communion with the Ecumenical Patriarch and the Greek Orthodox Church.
On the local parish level, this meant that Russian Orthodox congregations were informed that communing in a Greek Church or a Ukrainian Church with ties to the newly created OCU, was forbidden on canonical grounds.
I saw this new rule play out when Greek priests who formerly concelebrated with the priests in our parish were suddenly told they could no longer do so.
A majority of parishioners in my parish viewed this ruling as merely a manifestation of hurt egos in a political war between two patriarchs. Many chose to ignore the sanction of inter-communion, feeling that ‘Orthodox’ is ‘Orthodox,’ the same sacraments, belief and theology and worlds away from any espousal of heterodox theology which traditionally has always been the cause of schism.
My experience as an Orthodox Christian (I made the switch from Roman Catholicism about ten years ago), is that many Orthodox lay people have radically different views than the hierarchy when it comes to canonical squabbles. Orthodox lay people, for instance, are highly likely to attend services in any Orthodox Church regardless of its canonical status.
A small portion of the blame for the current disunity in the Orthodox world can be laid at the feet of the Russian Patriarch who insisted that Russian Orthodox people and members of the Ukrainian-Moscow affiliated Church OUC disavow relations (inter-communion) with Churches affiliated with the Patriarch of Constantinople.
On the other hand, the Patriarch of Constantinople had no canonical authority to make decisions about autocephalous Churches in the Ukraine. Ultimately, the stubbornness of both Patriarchs has contributed to the splintering of Orthodox unity, thereby decreasing the effectiveness of the Church in a world increasingly threatened by Islam.
In some Russian Orthodox circles there’s a belief that secular powers fear the unshakable conservatism of the Orthodox Church—a Church that has remained unchanged in its theology and liturgy throughout the centuries, unlike the Roman Catholic Church which has constantly adopted new forms, modern liturgies and many other innovations in order to “synchronize” with the times.
The first two Sundays following Russia’s invasion into Ukraine, I was careful to check the mood of fellow parishioners. I noticed no reaction among the congregation at the mention of Patriarch Kirill’s name, although most bowed their heads in prayer when the priest prayed for the people of Ukraine.
The coffee hour comments exploded exponentially on the second Sunday. Some parishioners wondered how long it would be before the parish encountered protests outside the church once it became widely known that the church was “Russian.”
Protest in the tightly knotted world of Russian Orthodoxy is beginning to occur. Some Ukrainian Churches aligned with the Moscow Patriarchate are systemically withdrawing their prayers for Patriarch Kirill (who is seen as the shadow power behind Vladimir Putin) during the Divine Liturgy.
In another development, Russian Orthodox priests throughout Russia are rising up and asking—demanding—that Patriarch Kirill make a statement condemning the actions of Putin.
It should be noted that in my Russian Orthodox parish, the pronounced political viewpoint of most members is politically conservative. There is, however, a tiny band of progressives who have always been vocal about their hatred for anything labeled Republican. During the 2020 George Floyd riots, one parishioner decorated himself with “I Can’t Breathe” buttons while bragging to another parishioner that he missed services once because he took his children to a BLM street protest. Another parishioner is adamantly Pro-Choice, which is not the ‘Orthodox Way’ at all.
The fact is, the slight right-left divide in my parish has pretty well dissolved at this point thanks to the apocalyptic nature of the Ukraine crisis.
Ten years ago when I became a member of this venerable and beautiful church, I would never have imagined that the people in the pews here would be sitting around at coffee hour talking about how Putin should be taken out.