Time to read: 18 minutes(s)

So he's begging for something there in the field. People are running to him, shouting: "Sophontiy! Come to church, it's time to serve!" He says, "What serve?" "I have work there, millet, and all that." That's it, you've been chosen, you're no longer living, you're no longer to be—you're to serve.

STUDIO: Sofonty isn't a priest; he's a member of an Old Believer community that, while he was working in the fields, entrusted him with their trust and chose him as their mentor. This is the podcast "From Now on, We'll Do It Ourselves." My name is Andrey Allahverdov. Hello.

What we know about the Old Believers is that they live in closed communities, avoiding contact with the outside world, or at least keeping it very limited, and preserving the faith as it existed before the Nikonian reform of the 17th century. Among the Old Believers, there are various movements, which they call "consensus"—the Popovtsy, the Bespopovtsy, the Fedoseyevtsy, the Chasovenny, and many others. There are many communities throughout Russia and beyond, the most well-known of which include the Vygovsky Monastery in Pomorye, Verkhokamye on the border of Perm Krai and Udmurtia, the Kerzhensky Forests in the Nizhny Novgorod Region, Yenisei, Buryatia, and Vetka in Belarus. There are also communities in Moldova, Lithuania, and Estonia. Today we are speaking with Natalia Litvina, head of the archaeological laboratory at the History Department of Moscow State University and a researcher of Old Believer life. Hello, Natalia.

NATALIA LITVINA: Hello.

STUDIO: How closed were—and remain—Old Believer communities? Can one say that it was precisely this closed nature that helped them survive and persist?

NATALIA LITVINA: Well, it was very closed in many ways, of course. It's no wonder Vyg survived the first wave of persecutions under Peter the Great—probably some of the most severe—and lived until the 30s, because it was an incredibly economically successful enterprise, one might say. Since the Tsar was also a pragmatist, he realized that these people brought in a very good income. They were technically advanced, economically advanced. Well, in general, their pure economics really saved them. And they were, of course, very isolated. This was in the early period, when there was isolation. The natural desire was to hide somewhere deep, especially since there were still quite a few of these remote places. But already in the 20s, the devastation of the Kerzhensk monasteries occurred. When 90 monasteries were seized and condemned simultaneously in the Nizhny Novgorod region. Although the terrain was very difficult to access, they reached them, and very few remained. And this first wave of Nizhny Novgorod Old Believers never fully recovered.

From the Regulations of the Spiritual College of 1721

Throughout Russia, no schismatic is to be elevated to positions of authority, not only spiritual but also civil […], so as not to arm against us fierce enemies who continually plot evil against the State and the Sovereign. And if anyone is suspected of schismatic activity, even if he displays a semblance of Orthodoxy, he is to be made to swear an oath and vow […] that he is not and does not intend to be a schismatic. And he is to be severely punished if anything to the contrary is subsequently discovered […]. For example: if he never receives Holy Communion without any good reason; if he conceals schismatic teachers in his home, knowing that such are the case; and if he sends alms to schismatic monasteries, and so on; and if anyone is convicted of such deeds by clear evidence, then he is subject to suspicion of schismatic activity.

On the other hand, if you look at how it all unfolded, you can recall the Old Believer merchants who were involved—Guchkov in the Duma, and the Tretyakov Gallery—they also cared about the prosperity of the state and were quite patriotic in their own way. And there are excellent works on how the mechanism of Old Believer charity worked, the mechanism of making money on such a huge scale, when the entire linen production was in Old Believer hands. They were incredibly curious about all the discoveries, the Industrial Revolution, and invested in research. In short, they were quite involved. And I would also, of course, mention here the year 1770-71, when an epidemic raged in the Moscow region and the Rogozhskoye and Preobrazhenskoye cemeteries were founded. Ilya Alekseevich Kovylin, the owner of a small brick factory, had, under the influence of a local preacher, defected to the Fedoseyevites—one of the strictest priestless Old Believer sects—at the very beginning of the 19th century, he specifically went to the government, to the Tsar, because he needed to somehow survive, to become legally recognized. Although he had a very strict stance and was a very strict man, to develop, he needed to be friends with the authorities. This is precisely the story of how he established economic contacts, not to mention the fact that both the Rogozhskoye and Preobrazhenskoye communities were unafraid of infection, treated everyone and buried everyone, and, in general, this truly provided great assistance to the city during the epidemic.

People often talk about the popular democracy that has been preserved in the Old Believers, and while it works differently in different communities, it does. Even in the clerical communities, where there is a hierarchy and metropolitans. The history of the Old Believers has generally been such that elected, local leadership can be subject to persecution, temptations, and self-defense, but people need to survive. Therefore, there has always been a history that presupposed some kind of internal mechanism that would protect the community from the loss of a breadwinner, from the loss of a leadership level, which is not truly in charge in all communities. In its most explicit form, this is monastic leadership, and the agreements that arose from the monastery—the Fedoseyevites, led by Feodosiy Vasiliev, a truly highly respected man, the leadership of the Vygovskaya Hermitage (all priestless), the history of chapel monasteries, of which there were many in the Urals, a few in Siberia, and in the Far East. A striking archival example is the Moldovan diocese of the Russian Orthodox Old Believers of the Belokrinitsky Church Hierarchy. Driven to the borders of the Russian Empire, Old Believers, under pressure from persecution and threats from the authorities, fled abroad. Thus, the first Vetka and Starodub posad settlements with monasteries were created. But all of this was under such semi-secular governance.

These monasteries survived thanks to the secular settlement, which provided labor support for the monastery and, accordingly, the monastery was the spiritual center.

From the handwritten text “Temples, their social significance”, in a collection stored in Verkhokamye, in the village of Sepych (spelling preserved)

"It is clear what a high social significance a Christian church must have had. When all community life, not only religious but also civic, was concentrated around it, community meetings were held in the churchyard nearby, all community affairs were decided, and various transactions and trades were concluded. There also stood a parish school, where members of the clergy taught, and a parish almshouse, where public charity was carried out through the same members of the clergy. Because of this, our ancient community always bore not so much a legal contractual character as a religious, fraternal one."

It was immediately customary to recruit priests from among those who recognized their own iniquity and, out of weakness, converted to Nikonianism. In other words, they recruited runaway priests, hence the term "beglopopovtsy." The route from Vetka, from the western borders of the Russian Empire and Poland, passed by Wallachia—present-day Moldova—and monasteries were founded there, too. And there were communities there, quite a few—up to 20 communities at one time. By the late 18th century, there had been a fairly stable Old Believer population in old villages like Kunichi. Some immediately chose the priestless path: they decided that it was God's will to remain without guidance, without a righteous bishop, and therefore one must consider what a person can do for themselves when, as a Christian, they are left "on a desert island." The simple sacraments remained—confession as the primary sacrament and baptism. And any layperson, an equal among equals, can do this. It doesn't even necessarily mean that he has the status of a chosen mentor - just any respected neighbor of a more or less pious life.

STUDIO: Is a mentor a priest?

NATALIA LITVINA: No, it's absolutely elective. A layperson is exactly the same as everyone else. They just take on additional responsibilities. For example, among the Old Believers' communal chapels—this is a kind of interim, intermediate agreement, which historically included the fugitive priests. Until the 40s, they accepted priests to perform legal marriages. This was the first and most important purpose for which priests were needed. But priests failed. That is, priests in the late 18th and early 19th centuries, especially, often turned to the Old Believers for selfish reasons and were not very pleasant in behavior. For various offenses, they were often defrocked or on the verge of defrocking. There were truly some very ugly stories, and it was decided that they would abandon the practice of hiring priests in this way. And the functions were transferred to a mentor.

There's still a narrative among the Old Believers in Kunichi that even within the memory of our closest relatives, the elderly—who are no longer here, but who were around just recently—there was an elective system. If a priest suddenly disappeared, or died, or was called away, or the bishop transferred him to another parish, or, for example, got rid of him for being a heavy drinker, then someone else had to be elected. They elected using beans. The maximum number of people, usually male, from the parish would gather. A parish muster would be announced. And everyone who came to the churchyard would receive a bean.

First, candidates are proposed. There might be two or three, on average, decent people. Everyone knows each other, of course, everyone knows roughly all of each other's sins, naturally, in the village, and those who are desirable are nominated—more or less literate, conscientious, generally suitable. They take three tins, sign their names on each tin, and everyone, leaving the churchyard, throws their bean into one of the tins. And whoever has collected the most beans is the one chosen. Not necessarily from among those currently present in the yard. Here's a semi-legendary story about how, let's call him, for example, Sofontiy. Sofontiy was "begging" at the time, that is, working in the field, growing millet, which is always hard work, it's hot, the millet crumbles into small crumbs, in short, not a joyful job at all, there's too much of it. So he begs for himself there in the field. They run to him because it's almost Vespers, it's time to serve. They shout, "Sophontiy! Come to church, it's time to serve!" He says, "What service? I have work to do, millet, and all that. That's it, you've been chosen, you're not going to live anymore—you're going to serve." And he begins to serve. Well, of course, he doesn't perform the sacrament until the bishop blesses him, but once he's chosen, there's no other choice. The bishop will bless him.

STUDIO: But he was elected when, as I understand it, he wasn't even present at the meeting and didn't even know he was a candidate. Could he have refused in that case?

NATALIA LITVINA: Almost no longer. In this story, no, he didn't refuse; he continued to serve. But elections did work, and they still work today.

The situation has always been harsher for the priestless. I mean, if you haven't proven yourself, then get ready to be re-elected. So, they're supposed to tolerate a mentor who's clearly chosen as an equal among equals. They don't need a bishop to confirm someone in their position. It's truly a story about fair elections among their own.

From the report of the chairman of the Catherine Old Believer community

To His Excellency the Governor of Perm
Chairman of the Yekaterininskaya Community of Old Believers, Okhansky District

Report

At the disposal of Your Excellency, I have the honor to present herewith the decision of the community […] on the election of mentors, the Community Council and the Elder

Chairman of the Council Evdokim Gorbunov.

November 27, 1907. We, the undersigned, members of the Yekaterininskaya community of Old Believers of the Pomor Danilov consent, who do not accept the priesthood, having been on this day in a general meeting in the number of 155 people and acting on the basis of the Decree of the Perm Provincial Government […] after due discussion have decided: on the basis of Article 18 of the Personal Highest Decree of October 17, 1906, to elect from among ourselves as teachers of the peasants of the Yekaterininskaya volost, the village of Grishin Petr Andreev Chertkov, 55 years old, and the village of Oskina Ivan Afanasyev Sedinin, 67 years old, who have long been our teachers […]; to form a community council from the following persons: the Chairman, the Deputy Chairman and members [names listed], to elect from among its members a special elder, Alexander Semenov Serin, to keep the civil status books of the Old Believers of our community […]

This is what we sign up for...

NATALIA LITVINA: The bean story is, of course, a perfectly normal vote count. But the chapels sometimes have a formal imitation, like a sort of lottery. A choice among three, as would be expected in an ideal election for a priest or bishop, when the same vote is held among three candidates, but it's not the congregation's vote, but God's will that should be randomly decided. So it's a straight-up lottery: they choose whoever draws the ballot. The one drawn is the one who should be inducted, but this doesn't always work everywhere. It also happens that circumstances change. For example, there's not much to choose from.

In the post-war generation, when conscientious men were few and far between, communities were largely run by women. And the same selection mechanism operated for women—those most conscientious in their lives. The only thing is, of course, there are certain circumstances that a woman has always hidden, and somehow managed to conceal them successfully, even though her neighbors didn't even know about them. Then she might confess to the community that she shouldn't be ordained—I'll tell you why now—or, for example, she might confess to one person before being ordained as a mentor or spiritual mother. For example, a woman might have a miscarriage, through no fault of her own, but in many communities this is an obstacle. She might remain a statutory guardian, for example, meaning she'll oversee the service, but someone else will perform confession and baptism.  

STUDIO: You mentioned something about getting rid of a priest? He's a heavy drinker, for example, so they decided to get rid of him. How does that happen?

NATALIA LITVINA: This is assuming a normal hierarchical structure. The Beglopopovtsy, who now have their own Patriarch Alexander, didn't have their own bishop until 1923, and they've always had this practice of raising or adopting priests from the Nikonites, or, as they call it, the "established church." If, like the Belokrinitskys since 1846, there's a ruling bishop, they can try to complain about the priest's behavior. In the 20th century, this was a common practice, with groups signing stacks of letters for inappropriate behavior. Such complaints usually led to a full-fledged judicial inquiry. Three or four people would go to the parish and, as in judicial practice, gather evidence, calling witnesses. They would write explanatory statements, tell stories, and everything would be recorded, signed personally. The archives contain many such stories—the reasons for these conflicts, how they were resolved. Typically, there's a system of suspension for a certain period, conditioned on certain behavior and adherence to certain rules. If the person hasn't stumbled during this period, has repented, and complies with these rules, they can be returned directly to the same parish. But the parish might say: "He's already been punished this way two or three times and hasn't lived up to it. Take him away from us."

STUDIO: What does it mean, "the parish can say"? How can it say it?

NATALIA LITVINA: When I say the parish decides this, it means they've already discussed it all among themselves, they've discussed it all among themselves, and that's truly the general consensus. But it's not like they've split in half and are now going to war with each other with whips.

In general, a community is a fairly unified organism, even if there are some disagreements within—for example, someone venerates one bishop, someone else venerates another, or someone goes to pray at a monastery, while someone else goes to a parish. There is always a group of people trying to resolve their own problems within this shared system. For example, a person went to a celebration. On the way home, he naturally drank something, wine, and then suddenly died. He lived a relatively normal life, did everything as expected, confessed on time, but if a person died while intoxicated, strictly speaking, he is not entitled to a full funeral service; the community does not remember him by name; he is considered a bit of a suicide, because he himself is somewhat to blame for his own death. But relatives, as a rule, are not happy with this situation. They'll bombard everyone with letters, saying, "My relative was such a good man," citing examples, and then the bishop will decide. And indeed, there are cases when the bishop decides that there's no great sin in a given situation, and for the sake of the relatives who are suffering and tormented, it would be worthwhile to perform the funeral service, and sometimes exceptions are made. But these are particularities; within the community, as a rule, there's a wave of either support or condemnation. Nevertheless, it's a system that allows them to resolve global issues together, despite any friction.

When the odds suddenly collide, discord ensues. Each side begins to argue forcefully, and active reading and searching for arguments in various forms of literature and history begins. Naturally, they each strengthen their position, and it reaches the point where two small agreements emerge, for example, even within a single compact territory, as happened in the Verkhokamye region (our beloved region) in the 19th century, or in the Southern Vyatka region, where they were also divided. 

From the Supremely approved opinion of the State Council on May 3, 1883, on granting schismatics certain civil rights and the performance of spiritual duties

Rulers, mentors, and other persons performing spiritual services for schismatics are not subject to prosecution for this, except in cases where they are found guilty of spreading their errors among the Orthodox, or of other criminal acts. The said persons are not recognized as having spiritual rank or title, and they are considered […] to belong to the classes to which they belong. Followers of the schism are prohibited from publicly manifesting it, which is recognized as: a) religious processions and public trials in church vestments; b) public wearing of icons […]; c) the use of church vestments or monastic and clerical attire outside homes, chapels, and prayer buildings; and d) schismatic singing on the streets and squares..

STUDIO: To what extent are matters of faith and purely secular matters separated in the life of the community? Are they separated at all? For example, is the issue of modern technology regulated from a religious perspective?

NATALIA LITVINA: Of course, everything varies greatly between communities. There's a relic group called the Yeniseian group, and it may contain not only Yeniseian but also Siberian chapels; they still have them. Dubcha sketes, where there's a certain ascetic culture, despite the fact that there's also a significant secular element in the form of the same young people who are still sometimes sent there for education. Accordingly, they arrive well-prepared and knowledgeable about telephone numbers. Basically, these are the kind of guys who are usually given a choice: if they like it, stay in the monastery; if they don't, return to their families and get married. Well, many stay; monastic life often seems very appealing to them. These are the villages along the Maly Yenisei, Bolshoy Yenisei, and in the taiga—these are the kind of villages where you finish 3rd or 4th grade, learn to count and write—and that's enough, because anything else can lead you astray. People need to know how to fix a tractor and, accordingly, how to plow it. Or take the immigrants you hear and read a lot about these days from Latin America. They're incredibly enlightened. I went with them to look at the far reaches of Primorsky Krai, the lands they were considering, and the guys all have phones, communicating via voice messages, but how else are they supposed to communicate with their relatives in Latin America? They all use WhatsApp. But at the same time, the young people are very conscientious; they believe they're limiting themselves, they know everything, they're excellent at business, they're excellent at making money, they don't spare themselves in terms of work. They're very good at balancing this balance of freedom and restricting it. They have a keen sense of it. This is something we absolutely won't do, and this is something we won't tolerate, but here we can. And it's always a rational approach. We can't do without this, so we'll pray for it here, but without this we can do just fine.

STUDIO: But even among the technologically advanced and sophisticated Old Believers, life is still strictly regulated, am I correct? To what extent does this limit their freedom, their free choice?

NATALIA LITVINA: There are no restrictions they would rebel against internally. It's not some kind of law they're forced to obey. For example, the chapels have many systems of restrictions, and there are people who observe certain key restrictions but don't observe the next chain of restrictions. Speaking of what can be observed or not observed... In Gornaya Shoria, where I worked, there's a strict ban on sugar consumption. You have to eat honey because sugar is processed industrially. And industrial processing means there could be some kind of, as they say, "probes": an animal dies, but they grind it up anyway, or they might suspect some unsuitable chemicals in the sugar. And keeping bees is very difficult, so honey has to be ordered, and again, from our own people, the Old Believers, somewhere in Kuban. It's all expensive, and not everyone can afford it. And everyone craves sweets, so some old woman can't buy honey, but she can buy sugar. So what if she's going to be baptized a second time? She might be reading ahead and not be eager to read., Well, that's fine. She might say, "Well, I'm still sugar-coated, but in another 10 years I'll be really weak, or I'll stop craving sweets, or I'll buy honey." Something like that. And so she'll be baptized next, in the next line after those who crossed themselves before him. Well, if everyone were categorized the same, then everyone would be honey-coated and that's it, but he makes his own choice each time. The only thing is, if we're talking historically, there were some things imposed by the state, like praying for the Tsar. Even they had an internal rebellion against it, but to survive, they had to do it. There were some who didn't agree to it anyway, or who agreed much later, but some of them decided that for the agreement to survive, they had to give in. But within such a community, there could very well be some individuals who would never do this in individual prayer or in family prayer.

There's a renowned Siberian researcher, Natalya Sergeevna Guryanova. She said that there are periods of homogeneous existence, followed by sudden, abrupt changes, perhaps related to a change in power or economic conditions. Each time, the Old Believers shift so much, adapt so much to the new conditions, that they are no longer comparable to the Old Believers of the previous period. Not to mention the early Old Believers. It's an incredibly flexible system, always adapting and always resisting at the same time.

STUDIO: I'd like to thank Natalia Litvina, head of the archaeographic laboratory at Moscow State University's Faculty of History and a researcher of Old Believers, for a very interesting conversation. This was the podcast "We'll Do It Ourselves." Listen to us, comment, we're very interested in your thoughts. See you there.!