Day 25

“Religion is the opiate of the masses.” –Karl Marx. Religion here in Russia has a long and troubled past, riddled with controversy and this last century, virtual annihilation. During the Revolution, ensuing Civil War, and the early communist years, the Communist regime went on an orgy of destruction, killing priests, burning cathedrals, stealing and selling ornate church property and priceless icons. Many of Russia’s most famous cathedrals were destroyed in perhaps the greatest artistic tragedy of the 20^th Century. A significant number of cathedrals weren’t destroyed, but were spared in order to be used for more mundane purposes (the largest cathedral in Moscow was an indoor swimming pool for 70 years). Since the fall of the Communist regime, it is once more in the vogue to be religious, but it is perhaps the most shallow belief system in the world. The Patriarch of the Russian Orthodox Church has been restored to his previous position of power and regularly features on the news here (replete with his blue, jewel studded garments and crown, it makes the Pope look like a pauper). Any politician worth his salt here is also seen at these services, devoutly crossing themselves in rhythm to the chanting. Aside: there have been no modernizing forces on the Russian Orthodox Church. Services are carried out exactly the way they were 400 years ago and the last time the Church tried to evolve with the times and lost half of their believers (this separatist sect, the Old Believers, still exists today, mostly in Siberia). The service is conducted in Old Church Slavonic, an ornate and heavy language with 100 some odd letters that is entirely unintelligible to the average Russian (much like Catholic Latin). This serves as a serious barrier to church attendance as the Church desperately tries to become a force in daily Russian life after a 74 year hiatus. Churches are being built everywhere with a combination of state money (there is no separation of Church and State in the Russian Federation) and “private donations.” I, myself, have seen three new churches/cathedrals being built during my wanderings of Voronezh. It is aesthetically pleasing and very neat so see, but every Russian that I’ve asked has expressed the opinion that these churches, once built, will likely remain empty on Sundays. Rampant cynicism is another barrier that affects the church’s stature here in Russia. Anatoly Ivanovich was talking about the construction of all these new churches and revealed to us that the “private donations” were in fact companies attached to the Church in order to make money for this purpose. However, it was recently discovered that these companies were selling alcohol, cigarettes, and were engaged in a number of shady business dealings. With such deals, the Russian Church is shooting itself in the foot, and perhaps it may never recover the prestige it had pre-revolution.

Voronezh Moment of the Day

So, short story, and I am completely at fault for not having a picture of this, but c’est la via (I taught this phrase to Olga Arkeedevna today at dinner, I know, I know, I’m so cultured: teaching French in Russian). Well, I was walking down Prospekt Revolutsii (walking towards Lenin Square between Karla Marxa and Fredricka Engelsa Streets. Yes, Russia’s Communist past is never very far from mind) and I saw a faded paper posted on a light pole. It had the word NOTICE! written at the top and from a distance I could tell there was a picture there. Thought I: “Nice, it’s a Russian wanted poster, and I’m going to keep an eye out for this guy.” As soon as I got within range though, I noticed that the picture was of a stereotypical babushka complete with head shawl, withered face, and stooped stature. Still thinking this was a wanted poster I went in to read it, wondering how many cats or children this woman had drowned to make the Russian police interested in her. However, after reading a few lines, I realized that this was no wanted poster. It was a lost babushka poster. The description: She had left home four days ago, she had grey hair and a cane, she was born in 1939, and she was wearing a floral head scarf and about seven layers of grayish clothing. It was exactly the same format and type that you see all over suburban American neighborhoods, only those are usually directed at the return of Fido, Señor Paws or Chairman Meow. The real tragedy is that that description fits literally every single babushka that I have ever seen in this city, picking up bottles, sweeping the streets, begging for alms, or simply attempting to walk from place to place in the city (there are NO Russian retirement homes). Good luck to Fyodor Fyodorivich in recovering his babushka.