God's Word vs. the Word of Authority
With the outbreak of war in Ukraine, more and more Orthodox priests in Russia are forced to choose: to go against church authority or against their conscience.
The Russian Orthodox Church declares its priests who oppose the war with Ukraine perjurers. Deprived of their parishes, and therefore their livelihood, some are falling silent and "going underground," while others are leaving Russia.
NeMoskva spoke with church officials who have openly declared their anti-war stance.
Priest Dmitry Ostanin
Dmitry Ostanin, the former rector of the Russian Orthodox Church parish in Bergen, has lived in Norway for 17 years. Originally from Ukraine, he grew up there, attended university there, and graduated from theological seminary in Russia. In June of this year, by decree of Patriarch Kirill, he was suspended from ministry due to his anti-war stance.
Father Dimitri's serious disagreements with the Moscow church authorities began back in the days of Bolotnaya Square:
The longer a person lives in the West, the more they understand the value of freedom. I was deeply moved by these events because I lived in Russia precisely when Putin came to power, and to a certain extent, I felt responsible for it. I remember being very young, when the events of the First Chechen War—the explosions, the terrorist attacks, and everything else—were keeping me up at night. And then, after Putin became president, I ran to my spiritual father and said, "Well, finally, I'm so glad Putin won. Now everything will be different, all these horrors will end." And my priest shook his head and said, "You poor thing, you don't understand anything." Because for him, Putin's rise meant the return of Soviet power; after all, there's no such thing as a former KGB agent, so he told me. And after Bolotnaya Square, I suddenly realized that what the priest had warned me about had become a new reality. I wrote a lot about this on Facebook because I considered it my duty. Parishioners began filing complaints against me, and some officially resigned from the parish because they disagreed with me on this issue. They called me from Moscow and admonished me for not writing about such things. And then I made a big mistake: I kept quiet and deleted my Facebook page because I thought it would improve the situation in the parish. Now I deeply regret it, because the comments people wrote on my posts could be incriminating material today. I could have said, "You wrote that I'm Ukrainian, that I have no right to write about events in Russia, that I have no right to interfere in the domestic politics of this country. And now you see where all this has led?"
According to Father Dimitri, although the outbreak of war, the bombing of peaceful cities, and the tanks right outside Kyiv shocked even many of those who blamed him for all sins, soon during a sermon, one of the parishioners loudly asked him, for the entire church to hear: "Where were you for eight years when Donbass was being bombed?"
"I couldn't even answer that right away, especially since this woman is from the Baltics and has nothing to do with Ukraine. Today, I could have told you where I was: in Norway, collecting humanitarian aid and sending it to a shelter for Ukrainian refugees. After that, I said, 'Sorry, but there's no room for debate in our church.' There's only one opinion—and it stems from the Gospel: there are people who are suffering, and these people need help. That's it. Period. There can be no other options.
A stream of complaints followed to Moscow, after which Dmitry Ostanin was removed from his post as rector.
"They brought me a printout of screenshots from discussions in closed Russian groups here in Norway, where people are discussing me. People are writing: 'Finally, he's been removed from the priesthood, we worked so hard on this, we wrote to Moscow...' And these are people I don't even know, who have never been to our church and live in other cities."— the priest is perplexed.
On June 7, 2024, Patriarch Kirill signed a decree banning Dmitry Ostanin from serving—the same as Father Alexander from Siberia, citing "perjury."
"We, fortunately, have a priest who serves in my place. But I'm still in the church: I preach, read, sing, and conduct the service as a layperson—anyone has the right to do that. I remain the administrative director of the parish, and we continue to do charitable work, visiting refugee camps," Ostanin says. "Now, most of our parishioners are refugees from Ukraine, and those who didn't support our work have almost all left the parish. I think it's not just a national issue; it's primarily because they find it difficult to communicate with someone who says, 'My city no longer exists,' or 'My street was completely bombed by the Russians.' They probably feel some kind of collective guilt."
Father Jacob (name changed)
"Based on my observations, there are quite a few priests and even bishops in large Russian cities who don't support the war—and it's not 5 or 10 percent, it's much higher. But we don't know about many of them because they fear the repressive machine, both ecclesiastical and secular, especially in Moscow."“—says Father Yakov (name changed) from central Russia, a member of the Christians Against War group.
— Are people in Moscow more intimidated than in the provinces?
— Of course. Everyone is afraid of denunciations, particularly due to the refusal to recite the so-called "Prayer for Holy Rus'," better known as the "Prayer for Victory." The first widely known story involves Priest John Koval, who replaced the word "victory" with "peace" in this text. Father John's ecclesiastical trial was based on a denunciation written with the support of the rector of the church where he served. Not long ago, a similar story happened to two other Moscow priests, Andrei Kudrin and Konstantin Kokora. As far as our group "Christians Against War" knows, both of these cases were also based on denunciations. Father Andrei read prayer for "reconciliation of enemies", for which he was defrocked. Father Konstantin, a young and fairly media-active priest, also refused to pray for victory, for which he was banned from priesthood for three years.
So while in the provinces it's still possible to indulge in some things, in Moscow everything is closely monitored. And for many anti-war priests, reciting this prayer for the victory of Holy Rus' is a matter of great importance. Some mutter these words casually, and then during the sermon, in one form or another, often in Aesopian language, they express their position. But many simply cannot utter these words; their conscience prevents them.
And more than one priest has been subjected to church discipline for refusing to read this prayer. But I know of almost no cases of defrocking in the regions. Usually, someone is punished when a parishioner denounces him or the rector sees or hears something. So, it's all quite chaotic. In one village, a priest can deliver anti-war sermons and get away with it, while another in a neighboring town will be punished for not participating, or not actively enough, in "helping the SVO."
There are three levels of church sanction:
🔸 Being removed from the staff due to health reasons is the "easiest" option. In this case, the priest is not a cleric of a specific church, but has the right to conduct services;
🔸 A ban on priestly service is a more serious measure, but still temporary; it can, in principle, be lifted.
🔸Defrocking is a final measure that cannot be reversed within the Russian Orthodox Church.
What do priests who have been banned from serving, or those who have been defrocked, do? Do they look for secular work? Do they leave the country?
— It’s very difficult for a priest or deacon who goes abroad to find a ministry position anywhere. Theoretically, it would be possible to transfer to some semi-autonomous structure of the Moscow Patriarchate, such as the Russian Orthodox Church Abroad (ROCOR) or the Archdiocese of the Orthodox Churches of the Russian Tradition in Western Europe. The people in these structures are very diverse, but there are quite a few priests who are anti-war. Some parishes don’t even mention Patriarch Kirill during services, and the head of the archdiocese, Metropolitan John (Jean Renneteau), doesn’t even publicly condemned The war and Patriarch Kirill's position. Therefore, in principle, an anti-war priest could find a place there, especially since there is a huge demand for such positions among Russian émigré believers. However, this is currently nearly impossible according to church regulations. The fact is that in order to transfer to another diocese, a so-called "letter of release" from a bishop is required. Bishops based in Russia do not have the right to send anyone abroad (with the exception of countries considered the so-called "canonical territory" of the Russian Orthodox Church) without the permission of the Holy Synod. And the Holy Synod, of course, will not release a priest or deacon who has openly spoken out against the war. For those who have not made any public appearances, there are still some options, but even then, I know of very few examples.
Therefore, for an anti-war priest who wishes to go abroad and continue his ministry, there is only one option: to write an appeal to the Patriarch of Constantinople, who, according to church canons, has the right to accept such appeals, and also, in exceptional cases, to accept clergy without “letter of leave.”
And in any case, one has to look for secular work—including those who have left for Europe and America, because all the Orthodox clergy there, as a rule, work secular jobs all week and only serve in church on Sundays.
You say there are quite a few Orthodox priests who are against the war. What's the mood like among their parishioners?
Unfortunately, I must admit that ultra-conservative ideas are very popular among believers. Many of them don't even subscribe to Putin's ideology—Putin isn't conservative enough for them, he's "sold out to the West"—but rather to the Z-ideology of someone like Strelkov. Among the clergy, these ideas have become less popular in recent years, likely because they are more literate in church matters, although this isn't always the case. The problem is that church attendance has become unpopular among the educated class, because the church institution in Russia has long since discredited itself: scandals involving Pussy Riot, the Patriarch's watch, "nano dust," and so on, and the state's overall unconditional support have left their mark.
Father Alexander (name changed)
Father Alexander (name changed) is a priest in a Siberian diocese. Due to his anti-war views, he was suspended from ministry in June 2024. As a result, he and his family were left virtually without a livelihood.
"When this war began, I immediately began preaching that it was wrong, that it was evil. This quickly became known to the leadership of our diocese. They spoke with me several times, trying to convince me I was wrong. Then they realized it was futile and simply asked me to keep my opinions to myself, but I didn't listen." the priest says.
— Did one of your parishioners report you?
"They hinted at it, but I don't know for sure. Then my immediate superior, the dean, wrote a report on me to the bishop. It included several points: that I constantly spoke out against the SVO, against Putin, although I hadn't said anything against Putin—we are forbidden from expressing our political position, and rightly so. We even speak of this in our oath at ordination: we pledge not to participate in the activities of any political party, not to support any political movement, and so on. And when we were instructed to recite the prayer for victory, we were essentially being pushed to violate our oath, because by doing so we were supporting one side and pushing away the other. And this is blessed by our superiors."
After Navalny's death, Father Alexander held a memorial service for him:
"We usually have a memorial service after the liturgy, and I mentioned him. After the service, the parishioners asked which Alexei I was referring to, and I told them directly. He's an Orthodox Christian, so what difference does it make what his views are?"
In June of this year, Father Alexander was suspended from ministry for a year. His background is in history, and theoretically he could have gone on to teach school—but how can one teach children history these days without violating one's conscience? He took a job as a courier, delivering orders by car until the vehicle started malfunctioning. And some kind people help out a little.
Priests, as a rule, find themselves in a situation where they don't know how to do anything except serve in the church. Whatever skills they had are lost. And their daily routine is already established, and it's completely tied to their service. This is the source of one of our main ailments in the church—total obedience. Doing what you're told—that's the most important virtue., Father Alexander reasons.
To punish disobedient priests who refuse to support the war, church authorities most often use the term "perjury," since the oath taken at ordination includes a promise to abide by "church rules and the instructions of the hierarchy." Father Alexander was also declared a "perjury breaker."
"But at the beginning of this oath, the priest promises to serve in accordance with the word of God—and only then come the 'instructions of the hierarchy'! And if these instructions contradict the word of God, then what am I supposed to adhere to? Naturally, I must fulfill the will of the Lord—He is our most important leader."
— So it turns out that you no longer associate your future with the Russian Orthodox Church?
"Most likely so. I have little hope that anything will change. I think the political line will remain the same, even if someone replaces Putin, and the church will remain loyal to the current government. There's another important point: during joint services, you have to interact with other priests. And there's a moment when priests embrace, and that means we're united, that Christ is among us. But that's hypocrisy! I can't even shake hands with some of the particularly zealous ones. How can I live with them?"
Priest Grigory Okhanov
Priest Grigory Okhanov came to the church as a teenager: he graduated from Orthodox school and then studied at the seminary. He worked as a reader and later headed the city's Orthodox youth organization. Soon after the military mobilization was announced, he left Russia and now lives in Turkey.
"I've wanted to be a priest since childhood. And by 2022, I was just beginning to think about how soon I'd be 30 and it was time to take holy orders. But then the war began, and it gradually became clear that I'd have to compromise somehow—not necessarily make statements in support of the government, but at least tolerate similar statements from others, collaborate with them, and support projects aimed at supporting SVO fighters—not just rehabilitating the wounded, but also supplying the fighting army." — says Father Gregory. At first, it seemed the church was distancing itself from the war, not taking sides. But while I was reflecting on this, unfortunately, the Russian Orthodox Church found itself increasingly tied to events on the front, supporting only one side—the Russian side. I disagreed with this and began looking for alternatives. However, until September 2022, before mobilization began, it seemed possible to remain aloof from the aggressive propaganda and support for the army, and to pursue my own humanitarian, spiritual, and educational projects. But when mobilization began, I realized that, in my position, where many Orthodox young people listened to me, I could not remain silent. I actively spoke out against what was happening—on social media, in private conversations, at meetings with members of parliament, at various public organizations and youth groups.
— How did those around you—the young Orthodox people you worked with, your colleagues—react to this? Did they support your position? Did they argue with you? Did they write denunciations against you?
— If we talk about our team, the people with whom I worked directly, they were mostly people with little to do with politics. But we immediately gathered our team, discussed our positions, and made a joint decision: we would leave all our disagreements outside the scope of our joint communication. If any conflicts arise, we discuss them personally. And we really haven't had any serious arguments on this topic. But there were conflicts with my opponents from competing structures, from other diocesan departments, mainly with priests. Several people demanded that I resign as the head of the youth organization, threatening that otherwise the FSB would deal with me. I don't know if there was anything behind this, whether there were actually specific denunciations to the FSB or the Investigative Committee—I was told there were. Some strange people, very well informed about my life, wrote to me in chats from obscure accounts and strongly advised me to keep quiet, otherwise there would be problems. And, of course, it was unpleasant when people started writing about me on social media, saying I was a traitor who needed to be dealt with, and these posts were liked by people I had fairly good relations with, though not close friends. Incidentally, the funniest thing is that whenever I show up in Russia now—I go there occasionally—posts immediately appear claiming I'm on a secret mission from the CIA or the State Department to destroy Russian statehood, undermine trust in the elections, and so on and so forth.
In the fall of 2022, shortly after the start of mobilization, Father Gregory received an offer from a friend: to go to Turkey and serve there as a priest.
"I didn't think long: I consulted with my wife and went to meet her. And in December, when the decision was positive, my family and I moved to Antalya, Turkey, where I began serving in a parish belonging to the Ecumenical Patriarchate—the Moscow Patriarchate's main opponent in the Orthodox world. There's much more freedom here. Turkey is a haven for many Russians, Ukrainians, and Belarusians who fled their countries because of war or for political reasons. I serve in a Russian-speaking parish, where the majority of parishioners are from Ukraine, and even those from Russia are against the war. Our parish is so peaceful and friendly. Unlike the Russian Orthodox Church, which prays for victory, at every Sunday liturgy we pray for peace—not for the victory of one of the warring parties. And on Saturday, we remember all the victims of the war, without distinguishing between those who are right and those who are wrong."
