An Interview with Svitlana Korenkova
Svitlana Korenkova’s parents hailed from mostly Russian-speaking northeastern Ukraine, and she grew up in the similarly Russian-speaking region of Zaporizhia [Russian: Zaporozhye] on the Black Sea. Yet Ukrainian identity was central to her upbringing, and she has spoken Ukrainian and Russian since childhood. Svitlana became a practicing Orthodox Christian as a young adult in the early 2000s. She attends a Moscow Patriarchate parish in Kyiv, where she now lives with her husband and six-year-old daughter.
In the light of the ongoing moves to establish an independent Ukrainian Orthodox Church, she spoke in late October 2018 with the editor of the East-West Church Report in Kyiv about the challenges of Christian and national identity. The conversation took place in English.
How did you become a practicing Orthodox Christian under the Moscow Patriarchate?
Initially I attended both Moscow and Kyiv Patriarchate churches. I very much liked [the Kyiv Patriarchate’s] St. Volodymyr’s Cathedral [a 19th-century landmark decorated by renowned Russian artists such as Mikhail Nesterov and Viktor Vasnetsov]. My father told me stories about how he attended this church as a child during holidays with a great-aunt in Kyiv. I also attended the lavra [Kyiv Caves Monastery] and St. Florus Women’s Monastery in the Podil district of Kyiv [both Moscow Patriarchate]. But when I began to attend church regularly, I started to read and learn more, and it became very important for me to attend the canonical Orthodox Church. But the way to meeting Christ is very personal; different people come to Christ in very different ways. The Bible says that the Holy Spirit can be present wherever He wills. We cannot say for certain which church He is in, and in which He is not.
Ultimately, my decision to keep to the Moscow Patriarchate was greatly influenced by priests abroad, in Paris and Strasbourg—I travelled a lot due to my work with the Council of Europe. A few days after Easter in 2006, I went on a training course in Tbilisi, Georgia, and I asked to arrive early so that I could attend the Easter night liturgy. A priest there explained to me that it is crucially important to know which church I am attending. Later that year I found the Moscow Patriarchate parish that I still attend in Kyiv, St. Agapit.
At that time, this was perhaps the most popular church in Kyiv. The main parish priest, Fr. Andrei Tkachev, was famous for his sermons. It was really something special—relations inside the community were very friendly, and Fr. Andrei contributed a lot to this distinct spirit. On Wednesdays we had teas at which he would speak about the Gospel and how to connect the Bible with everyday life. We also started an Orthodox Englishspeaking club to help Orthodox who can speak English enrich their vocabulary so that they are able to speak about the Church. As these meetings were after Sunday liturgy, we would read that morning’s Gospel passage in English. We also read sermons by Western priests, such as Metropolitan Anthony of Sourozh, and material on the website of the Orthodox Church in America.
At the same time, another person was important to me personally—Bishop Panteleimon [now the Moscow Patriarchate’s Archbishop of Rovenki in Luhansk region]. He helped me to build this relationship with the Church, to find my own way. At that time he was a priest at the lavra, and he impressed me with his accessibility. He was very inspiring and motivating—a monk, but at the same time open-minded and open to communication.
At the Council of Europe, I was a trainer in humanrights education, and I always asked myself how my work there related to the Orthodox Church, especially when you can hear very controversial things in sermons! Here, a personal encounter cemented my relationship with Orthodoxy. Most priests were critical of the Orange Revolution [2004-05 pro-democracy protests in Ukraine], but at the inauguration event of the new president, Viktor Yushchenko, I met Metropolitan Volodymyr [then head of the Ukrainian Orthodox Church (Moscow Patriarchate)] on Maidan Square. He and his security detail came down from the stage out into the crowd, and at that very moment I came face to face with him and asked for his blessing. To receive this personal blessing was for me a sign that I was on the right path.
How did you and your parish perceive the 2013-14 prodemocracy demonstrations on Maidan Square, and the subsequent loss of Ukrainian territory?
Our Fr. Andrei Tkachev became very famous in Ukraine as a pro-Russian priest when he spoke against Maidan, and he decided to move to Moscow. Earlier, there were both opinions— pro-Ukrainian and pro-Russian—and this wasn’t an issue. But in 2014 our parish became more pro-Russian. Unfortunately, a lot of people decided to leave.
I was for Maidan—perhaps not the most ardent supporter, but I mostly shared its pro-democracy values. Because my daughter was very young at the time, I did not attend any kind of demonstrations, but a lot of my friends were there, and I prepared sandwiches to give to the Maidan activists. I still cannot agree 100 percent that everything was done correctly on the Maidan side. There were a lot of provocations and rightwing nationalists. At the same time, that is not an excuse for killing. Even if there was a lot of disorder, those in power did what should not have been done in that situation, when police and the army crushed the peaceful protests.
I am pro-Ukrainian—I grew up as a Ukrainian child– but in the past few years this focus on a national idea has become too much. It is not being explained in terms of internal values. It’s like trying to rebuild the systems of the Pioneer and Komsomol [Soviet youth organizations] but with different content, while supposing that we think differently now. There is fear that anything said against the strong rhetoric of the nationalists will be considered pro-Russian.
As for Crimea—and the separation in eastern Ukraine— to me it was obvious that it would happen at some point. When I travelled to Vladikavkaz, North Ossetia, after the 2008 war with Georgia, I spoke with people there and understood that we could have this very similar situation in Ukraine. It was discussed, but unfortunately nothing was done to prevent it, even though it was not a secret that a lot of people in Crimea were applying for and receiving Russian citizenship. At least we didn’t have a war in Crimea—although the ongoing hybrid war that we have is very real, and the annexation of Crimea is in fact a result.
Why might Ukrainian Orthodox support Russia?
There could be many different reasons, starting from feeling real support for the Russian people. The main idea is that we are brothers with Russia, that we are one people who should not be separated; that this separation of Russia and Ukraine is very artificial, and our culture is almost the same, not two different things. We should also respect this position. When we speak about diversity now—including in religious dialogue—we actually stress what we have in common. But we should also recognize differences for what they are, and accept them. Real dialogue can take place only where differences are accepted and respected.
How do you feel about the opposition of the Ukrainian Orthodox Church (Moscow Patriarchate) to autocephaly?
I was very disappointed by the position of the Ukrainian Orthodox Church. When we spoke within our parish about autocephaly, I could not agree with people who immediately connected it with the Kyiv Patriarchate. I expected that the Ukrainian Orthodox Church [Moscow Patriarchate] would form the fundamental part of the new Ukrainian Church. But what happened? The Ukrainian Orthodox Church became more and more oriented towards Moscow. Yes, a lot of people support Moscow, but there are also a lot of people who are proUkrainian.
I do like Russia—when I travelled there on business with the Council of Europe, I connected my trips with pilgrimages to some holy sites: monasteries in Diveyevo and Murom, St. Sergius lavra near Moscow. But I feel that as far as the Ukrainian Orthodox Church [Moscow Patriarchate] is concerned, those people who support Moscow exist and are recognized, while everyone else is on their own. Those who support connections with Moscow therefore form a more cohesive group, and because of that it appears as if they are the majority. And the Moscow Patriarchate has found the best way to manipulate that—either we are all together, or not at all.
There are some parts of western Ukraine that are strongly Ukrainian culturally, but where support for the Moscow Patriarchate is also very high. How is that possible?
I am not sure if for them the word “Moscow” has any special meaning. I have a good example: My family has spent several summer holidays in the Carpathian Mountains, in the far West. We rented accommodations from a young family from the local region of Ivano-Frankivsk. They turned out to be very strongly Orthodox of the Moscow Patriarchate. But they avoided saying “Moscow Patriarchate,” and they never called it the Russian Church. They just said that there was more emphasis upon the Ukrainian national idea than Christ in other churches. Their nephew and niece—aged 11 and 14—just called it “our Church.” They protect and support it not because it is with Moscow, but because of canonicity. I have the greatest respect for their priests who can explain to these people the value of that.
How do these questions affect your six-year-old daughter?
For me it is important to give her an Orthodox upbringing, but at the same time the question of building a relationship with God is her business. I should create the conditions for her rather than force her. But with our situation in Ukraine, I have problems with explanations even at her young age, especially when we travel in western Ukraine [where the breakaway Kyiv Patriarchate and Ukrainian Autocephalous Orthodox Church have been strong]. “Such a nice church, the priest looks like ours. Mummy, let’s go here to take communion!”
While we were in the Carpathians, I took her to a Moscow Patriarchate church from time to time, but it was in another city more than half an hour away by bus; it was also a very small parish in a private house. And this was while there was a large non-Moscow Patriarchate church right where we were staying. I have asked other mothers, “How did you explain?” They said to me, “I told my children that they are not real priests.” But is that not the same as saying that they are bad, and we are good? For me it is very important not to build this division for children. Even to say it is not a real church–what does that mean to her? What my daughter sees is a real church and real priests.
Will the situation change for you if the alternative becomes a recognized autocephalous Ukrainian Church, especially if the Ukrainian Orthodox Church is forced by law to rename as, say, the Russian Orthodox Church in Ukraine?
Just recently I said I never thought I would be a parishioner of the Russian Church. But now it looks this way, and this is once again a question I will have to ask myself. I don’t know. Church is like family. But it would not be fair to say here, “You can’t choose your family.” This is family we can choose. But changing family is very hard for a person. That is how I feel. It would not be an easy decision at all. But to remain and attend the Russian Church—that would also be very hard for me to accept.
When the Revolution of Dignity took place and the war started in the Donbass region, I asked myself if I still wanted to belong to the Moscow Patriarchate. I had a lot of disputes with my father; he did not like the fact that I was connected with the Moscow Patriarchate. My father died in 2014, in the month following the death of Metropolitan Volodymyr on 5 July. When Metropolitan Volodymyr died, my father called to tell me about his death—and my father was not a churchgoer. But in those days we spoke about Metropolitan Volodymyr and the Church a lot; what will happen next, what is waiting for us. I recall this because even if everything will remain the same, just the name changed and our church called the Russian Church, I am not sure whether attending would honor my father, who wanted to see a Ukrainian Church. To be honest, I would prefer to avoid such a choice.
As for my child—I’m not sure that I would prefer to bring her up within the Russian Church. It’s not a question of language, but of identity. So far this issue is not so pressing, but what about a year from now, when she starts Ukrainian school? What I would like is to give her general Christian values, and national values inside those.
It seems as if much depends upon what happens and how it happens. I imagine that if a significant number of Moscow Patriarchate priests switched to a recognized autocephalous Ukrainian Church, you might feel comfortable going to those rather than to former Kyiv Patriarchate priests, even though technically they would be under the same jurisdiction.
Exactly. Yes, this process of building a new church is political, but for me it means yet more separation. On the one hand, we are building an inclusive society; on the other hand, we enforce this division more and more. Situations where a husband attends one church, and a wife another, or the child was baptized in one church and so can’t attend another one. (Sighs) It is a family matter, and only after that is it political or national. I don’t feel politically about it; I don’t see it from the point of view of a national idea or independence. Such things are important, but everyday life is about relations within families. But I don’t hear this kind of argument much. About politics, a national idea, independence—sure. Those kinds of discussions are had by non-church people; for them it is very easy. But when you have friends in different churches and you avoid speaking about this question, it is a very personal problem.
