Should the Church be "with the people" or with God?
The authorities do not need patriots — they need the obedient. Why attempts to prove loyalty do not stop the persecution, and how this ended for the Church in the 20th century.
In recent years, we have seen how some resources and spokespeople of the Ukrainian Orthodox Church try by every means to prove their patriotism to the Ukrainian authorities. They eagerly recount how much has been collected for the needs of the army, what letters of gratitude have arrived from the military, and to which state events they have been invited. And behind all this one can hear a hope: if devotion to the Motherland has been proven in deed and declared aloud — "we are our own, we are patriots, we help the front" — the attitude of the authorities will change.
But this is an illusion. And a very dangerous one.
The authorities who are methodically destroying the Church are indifferent to whether we are patriots or not. They need the obedient — those who are ready to conform to the party line, repeat the required formulations, and ask no unnecessary questions. Patriotism has nothing to do with it.
Therefore, proving it is pointless: it is like trying to present a proof of income at passport control — the document is genuine and the information in it is truthful, but something entirely different is being checked.
When miracles do not convince
Let us recall the Gospel. After the raising of Lazarus it became perfectly clear: Jesus Christ is the Messiah promised by the prophets; He does what an ordinary man cannot do. He does not merely speak beautiful words, but raises the dead to life, heals the sick, and gives sight to the blind. It would seem that after such things even the most stubborn opponents should have stopped and reflected: is this not the One whom so many centuries had awaited? But the chief priests and Pharisees decided otherwise — they convened a council and resolved to kill both Him and Lazarus. The reason is simple: in their view, Christ encroached upon their power, and a Man having a direct connection with God did not fit into the well-oiled system that brought them a great many quite earthly benefits.
Miracles did not convince the persecutors of the first centuries either. Fire would not burn the martyrs, beasts refused to tear them apart, wounds from torture healed before one's eyes — it is hard to imagine more vivid testimony. Did this stop the persecutors? No, more often it only enraged them. Because Rome was not seeking proof of God's truth. It demanded something else: to bow before the emperor, to burn incense before his statue, to declare aloud that his earthly power is above all else — "above everything."
It is the same today. One may collect as much as one likes for the army, publish photographs with soldiers, and display commendations from battalion commanders. For those who make decisions about the Church, this means nothing. They do not look at real assistance to the army or to society, but at something else: whether the Church is ready to support the rhetoric of the country's top officials, to broadcast the required narratives, and to praise or condemn whomever they are told to.
And almost always this is justified by the thesis: "The Church must be with the people." For the sake of the people — hate the enemy; for the sake of the people — support mobilization; for the sake of the people — unite into a single "Ukrainian church." It is precisely "for the sake of the people" that we are called to make "quite small, insignificant" concessions. They say: do as you are told, and you will immediately begin to live in peace and harmony with the state.
But scratch the surface just a little, and the manipulative nature of the phrase about "the Church and the people" becomes obvious. In reality, the Church is not being called to be with the people at all — it is being required to serve the authorities.
The parallel with the first centuries is not coincidental. Even then there were those who urged not to provoke the authorities: throw a pinch of incense on the altar before the emperor's statue — it is merely a mechanical gesture, it does not mean renouncing God. One insignificant concession, and everyone is satisfied. But the martyrs would not do this. It was precisely for refusing to make this "trivial" gesture that they were executed.
What the authorities actually want from the Church
Look at the structures that today enjoy the full support of the authorities, and you will see that very incense rising before the emperor's statue. They make "correct" statements, defend the official position of the state abroad, request weapons, and lie that no one in Ukraine is persecuting the faithful of the UOC.
In essence, the majority of religious organizations belonging to the All-Ukrainian Council of Churches and Religious Organizations function as yet another ministry — only with crosses, cassocks, and clerical collars.
This is not patriotism. It is service — and a very specific service: to support the authorities and legitimize their decisions. In return, such structures receive protection, draft exemptions, and various privileges.
The Ukrainian Orthodox Church does not fit into this scheme. Not because it is "unpatriotic," but because it refuses to be fully controlled. It lives by its own internal rules, preserves canonical ties, and does not compromise the Gospel. For the authorities, these are the chief signs of unreliability.
Therefore, any proof of patriotism amounts to speaking into a void. The authorities do not hear "we love Ukraine," but rather "we are still not entirely yours." And they respond accordingly.
The lesson of the Soviet decades
The history of the Church in the 20th century offers a harsh and clear lesson on this subject.
Lev Regelson, in his book The Tragedy of the Russian Church, examines in detail how the hierarchy's attempts to prove its loyalty to the Soviet authorities ended.
After the revolution, the Church found itself under total pressure. Churches were closed, priests were arrested, and property was confiscated. Patriarch Tikhon and many bishops tried to find a formula that would allow the Church to survive and somehow coexist with the godless regime. They declared their readiness to recognize the new authority, called on the faithful to be law-abiding, and emphasized that the Church does not engage in politics. During the famine in the Volga region, they handed over church valuables to aid the starving. In other words, they did everything that citizens who love their country ought to do. One would think: what more could be demanded?
But this was not enough for the authorities. They needed not merely civic loyalty, but a readiness to become part of the state system. They wanted the Church not simply to "coexist" with Soviet power, but to regard its successes as its own successes and its failures as its own failures. They wanted the spirit of the Church to merge with the spirit of the "world revolution."
In 1927, Metropolitan Sergius (Stragorodsky) did what no one before him had dared to do — he issued a "Declaration" in which he stated: we acknowledge the Soviet Union as our civic homeland, whose joys and successes are our joys and successes, and whose failures are our failures. Formally, this appeared to be a logical continuation of the line of loyalty. In reality, as Regelson shows, these words sounded as an expression of spiritual and moral solidarity with an ideology that openly aimed at the destruction of the Church.
What did the Church receive in return? A temporary "legalization" of one of the administrative centers, the opportunity to serve as a showcase — look, they said, there is no religious persecution in the USSR — for "Western partners," and nothing more. But the price paid was enormous: internal schism, the loss of trust among a significant portion of the faithful and clergy, confusion and disarray. And — most importantly — the persecutions did not stop.
Regelson cites telling figures: "Metropolitan Sergius was unable to prevent the destruction of the Church through any compromises or concessions. If by the end of 1929 (precisely the period when the 'Declaration' was issued — Ed.) he had approximately 30,000 parishes under his authority, ten years later only a few hundred remained: such was the result of two 'godless five-year plans.'"
As we can see, the "Declaration" of loyalty to the Bolsheviks gave the Church nothing positive whatsoever and saved no one. One might ask: why?
Because the authorities saw the threat not in the absence of patriotic statements from the Church. They saw the threat in the very desire of the Church to live by its own laws, to preserve its inner freedom, and in its refusal to merge with state ideology.
It was precisely this merger that the Soviet authorities demanded. Today we see such a merger in modern Russia. And the Ukrainian authorities are following an identical path.
Why proving patriotism is a trap
When the Church begins to zealously prove its usefulness and patriotism, it accepts the rules of someone else's game. It agrees that its value is measured by the number of vehicles sent to the front, the area of camouflage netting produced, and the tonnage of humanitarian aid delivered.
But the Church does not exist for this. Its purpose is to lead a person toward union with God, toward salvation. It performs the Sacraments, preaches the Gospel, preserves the faith, and remains the conscience of the people — even when that conscience says what the authorities dislike.
The moment the Church begins to measure itself by someone else's standard, it loses. Because in this game the authorities will always demand something more. Today it is enough to collect funds for the army; tomorrow they will demand a public condemnation of "wrong" hierarchs; the day after — a change in the texts of prayers; then — support for LGBT causes for the sake of European integration; then — the severing of Eucharistic communion with other Churches. There is no endpoint to this chain, because its goal is not patriotism but total control.
Imagine a hospital where a cardiac surgeon, instead of performing operations, travels from one city administration to another and explains how many trench candles his nurses have made and how actively the hospital supports state initiatives. Meanwhile, operations are barely being performed and patients are dying. Would anyone say with admiration: what a wonderful clinic, what a wonderful surgeon, what patriots?
In the case of the Church, many people for some reason believe that this is exactly how it should be: a priest or bishop is obliged to spend his energy proving loyalty rather than preaching, praying, and tending to his flock. That the chief task of the Church lies not in faithfulness to Christ and the Gospel, but in maintaining excellent relations with the authorities.
This always ends the same way. The institutional shell holds together for a time, but the evangelical spirit evaporates, and in its place remain words about the "aggressor," the "war," and "national interests."
Does this mean the Church should ostentatiously ignore the needs of the country and its people? Of course not. Helping those who suffer, supporting those at the front, praying for peace and for salvation — these are an important part of Christian life. But all of this ceases to be a Christian act the very moment it becomes a political gesture calculated to win the sympathy of the authorities.
Our common cause
We cannot change politicians. We can show them an example of Christian life, preach the Gospel, and call them to the Kingdom of Heaven. Whether they hear or not is no longer our responsibility.
But whether the Church remains the Church — that responsibility is entirely ours. And it is not decided in offices or in statements. It is decided where a priest chooses what to say in a sermon and what to pass over in silence. Where a bishop considers whether to put his signature to yet another appeal. Where a parishioner remains in his church, understanding what this may cost him.
The Church survived the Soviet decades not because of the "Declaration." It was preserved by those who continued to serve in the remaining churches, to baptize children and to bury the dead, expecting no gratitude whatsoever from the authorities.
The same will be required of us.
