Moscow the
third Rome
After the taking of Constantinople in 1453, there was only one nation capable of assuming
leadership in eastern Christendom. The greater
part of Bulgaria, Serbia, and Romania had al-
ready been conquered by the Turks, while
the rest was absorbed before long. Russia alone re-
mained. To the Russians it seemed no
coincidence that at the very moment when the Byzantine
Empire came to an end, they themselves
were at last throwing off the few remaining vestiges of
Tartar suzerainty: God, it seemed, was
granting them their freedom because He had chosen them
to be the successors of Byzantium.
At
the same time as the land of Russia, the Russian Church gained its independence, more
by chance than from any deliberate design. Hitherto the Patriarch of
Constantinople had ap-
pointed the head of the Russian Church, the Metropolitan. At the Council of Florence the Metro-
politan was a Greek, Isidore. A leading supporter of the
union with Rome,
Isidore returned to
Moscow in 1441 and proclaimed the decrees of Florence, but he met with no support from the
Russians:
he was imprisoned by
the Grand Duke, but
after a time was
allowed to escape,
and
went back to Italy. The chief see was thus left vacant; but
the Russians could not ask the Patri-
arch for a new Metropolitan, because until
1453 the official Church at Constantinople continued
to accept the Florentine Union. Reluctant
to take action on their own, the Russians delayed for
several years. Eventually in 1448 a
council of Russian bishops proceeded to elect a Metropolitan
without further reference to Constantinople. After 1453, when the Florentine Union
was aban-
doned at Constantinople, communion between the Patriarchate and Russia was restored, but Rus-
sia continued to appoint its own chief
hierarch. Henceforward the Russian Church was autoceph-
alous.
The idea of Moscow as successor of Byzantium was assisted by a marriage. In 1472 Ivan
III
.the Great. (reigned 1462-1505) married
Sophia, niece of the last Byzantine Emperor. Although
Sophia had brothers and was not the legal
heir to the throne, the marriage served to establish a
dynastic link with Byzantium. The Grand Duke of Moscow began to assume
the Byzantine titles
of .autocrat. and .Tsar. (an adaptation of
the Roman .Caesar.) and to use the double-headed
eagle of Byzantium as his State emblem. Men came to think of
Moscow as .the Third Rome..
The first Rome (so they argued) had fallen
to the barbarians and then lapsed into heresy; the sec-
ond Rome, Constantinople, had in turn
fallen into heresy at the Council of Florence, and as a
punishment had been taken by the Turks.
Moscow therefore had succeeded Constantinople as the
Third and last Rome, the center of Orthodox Christendom. The monk
Philotheus of Pskov set
forth this line of argument in a famous
letter written in 1510 to Tsar Basil III:
I wish to add a few words on the present
Orthodox Empire of îur
ruler: he is on
earth the sole Emperor (Tsar) of the
Christians, the leader of the Apostolic Church
which
stands no longer
Rome or in
Constantinople, but in the blessed
city of
Moscow. She alone shines in the whole world
brighter than the sun.. All Chris-
tian Empires are fallen and in their stead
stands alone the Empire of our ruler in
accordance with the Prophetical books. Two
Romes have fallen, but the third
stands and a fourth there will not be (Quoted in Baynes and Moss, Byzantium: an Introduc-
tion, p. 385).
This idea of Moscow the Third Rome had a certain
appropriateness when applied to the Tsar: the
Emperor of Byzantium once acted as champion and protector of
Orthodoxy, and now the auto-
crat of Russia was called to perform the same task. But
it could also be understood in other and
54
less acceptable ways. If Moscow was the Third Rome, then should not the
head of the Russian
Church rank senior to the Patriarch of
Constantinople? In fact this seniority
has never been
granted, and Russia has always ranked no higher than fifth
among the Orthodox Churches, after
Jerusalem. The concept of Moscow the Third Rome also encouraged a kind of
Muscovite Messi-
anism, and led Russians sometimes to think
of themselves as a chosen people who could do no
wrong; and if taken in a political as well
as religious sense, it could be used to further the ends of
Russian secular imperialism.
Now that the dream
for which Saint Sergius worked .
the liberation of Russia
from the
Tartars . had become a reality, a sad
division occurred among his spiritual descendants. Sergius
had united the social with the mystical
side of monasticism, but under his successors these two
aspects became separated. The separation
first came into the open at a Church council in 1503.
As this council drew to its close, Saint
Nilus of Sora (Nil Sorsky, 1433?-1508), a monk from a
remote hermitage in the forests beyond the
Volga, rose to speak, and launched an attack on
the
ownership of land by monasteries (about a
third of the land in Russia belonged to monasteries at
this time). Saint Joseph, Abbot of
Volokalamsk (1439-1515), replied in defense of monastic
landholding. The majority of the Council
supported Joseph; but there were others in the Russian
Church
who agreed with
Nilus . chiefly
hermits living like
him beyond the Volga. Joseph.s
party were known as the Possessors, Nilus
and the .Transvolga hermits. as the Non-Possessors.
During the next twenty years there was
considerable tension between the two groups. Finally in
1525-1526 the Non-Possessors attacked Tsar
Basil III for unjustly divorcing his wife (the Ortho-
dox Church grants divorce, but only for
certain reasons); the Tsar then imprisoned the leading
Non-Possessors and closed the Transvolga
hermitages. The tradition of Saint Nilus was driven
underground, and although it never
entirely disappeared, its influence in the Russian Church was
very much restricted. For the time being
the outlook of the Possessors reigned supreme.
Behind the question of monastic property lay two different conceptions
of the monastic life,
and
ultimately two different
views of the
relation of the
Church to the
world. The Possessors
emphasized the social obligations of
monasticism: it is part of the work of monks to care for the
sick and poor, to show hospitality and to
teach; to do these things efficiently, monasteries need
money
and therefore they must own land.
Monks (so they argued) do not use their
wealth on
themselves, but hold it in trust for the
benefit of others. There was a saying among the followers
of Joseph, .The riches of the Church are
the riches of the poor..
The Non-Possessors argued on the other hand that almsgiving is the duty
of the laity, while
a monk.s primary task is to help others by
praying for them and by setting an example. To do
these things properly a monk must be
detached from the world, and only those who are vowed to
complete poverty can achieve true
detachment. Monks who are landowners cannot avoid being
tangled up in secular anxieties, and
because they become absorbed in worldly concerns, they act
and think in a worldly way. In the words
of the monk Vassian (Prince Patrikiev), a disciple of
Nilus:
Where in the traditions of the Gospels,
Apostles, and Fathers are monks ordered
to acquire populous villages and enslave
peasants to the brotherhood? .We look
into the hands of the rich, fawn
slavishly, flatter them to get out of them some lit-
tle village. We wrong and rob and sell
Christians, our brothers. We torture them
with scourges like wild beasts (Quoted in B. Pares, A History of Russia, third edition, p. 93).
55
Vassian.s protest against torture and
scourges brings us to a second matter over which the two
sides disagreed, the treatment of
heretics. Joseph upheld the view all but universal in Christen-
dom at this time: if heretics are
recalcitrant, the Church must call in the civil arm and resort to
prison, torture, and if necessary fire. But Nilus condemned all forms of coercion and violence
against heretics. One has only to recall
how Protestants and Roman Catholics treated one another
in western Europe during the Reformation,
to realize how exceptional Nilus was in his tolerance
and respect for human freedom.
The question of heretics in turn involved the wider problem of relations
between Church
and State. Nilus regarded heresy as a
spiritual matter, to be settled by the Church without the
State.s intervention; Joseph invoked the
help of the secular authorities. In general Nilus drew a
clearer line than Joseph between the
things of Caesar and the things of God. The Possessors were
great supporters of the ideal of Moscow
the Third Rome; believing in a close alliance between
Church and State, they took an active part
in politics, as Sergius had done, but perhaps they were
less careful than Sergius to guard the
Church from becoming the servant of the State. The Non-
Possessors for their part had a sharper
awareness of the prophetic and other-worldly witness of
monasticism. The Josephites were in danger
of identifying the Kingdom of God with a kingdom
of this world; Nilus saw that the Church
on earth must always be a Church in pilgrimage. While
Joseph and his party were great patriots
and nationalists, the Non-Possessors thought more of the
universality and Catholicity of the
Church.
Nor did the divergences between the two sides end here: they also had
different ideas of
Christian piety and prayer. Joseph
emphasized the place of rules and discipline, Nilus the inner
and personal relation between God and the
soul. Joseph stressed the place of beauty in worship,
Nilus feared that beauty might become an
idol: the monk (so Nilus maintained) is dedicated not
only to an outward poverty, but to an
absolute self-stripping, and he must be careful lest a devo-
tion to beautiful icons or Church music
comes between him and God. (In this
suspicion of
beauty, Nilus displays a Puritanism .
almost an Iconoclasm . most unusual in Russian spiritu-
ality). Joseph realized the importance of
corporate worship and of liturgical prayer:
A
man can pray
in his own
room, but he
will never pray
there as he
prays in
Church... where the singing of many voices
rises united towards God, where all
have but one thought and one voice in the
unity of love.. On high the seraphim
proclaim
the Trisagion, here
below the human multitude
raises the same
hymn.
Heaven and
earth keep festival together, one
in thanksgiving, one in happiness,
one in joy (Quoted by J. Meyendorff, .Une controverse
sur le rôle social de l.Église. La querelle
des biens
ecclésiastiques au XVIe siècle en Russie,. in the periodical Irénikon, vol. XXIX (1956), p.
29).
Nilus on the other hand was chiefly
interested not in liturgical but in mystical prayer: before he
settled at Sora he had lived as a monk on
Mount Athos, and he knew the Byzantine Hesychast
tradition at first hand.
The Russian Church rightly saw good things in the teaching of both
Joseph and Nilus, and
has canonized them both. Each inherited a
part of the tradition of Saint Sergius, but no more than
a
part: Russia needed both
the Josephite and
the Transvolgian forms
of monasticism, for each
supplemented the other. It was sad indeed that the two sides entered
into conflict, and that the
tradition of Nilus was largely suppressed: without the Non-Possessors, the
spiritual life of the
Russian Church became one-sided and unbalanced. The close integration which the Josephites
56
upheld between Church and State, their
Russian nationalism, their devotion to the outward forms
of worship . these things were to lead to
trouble in the next century.
One of the
most interesting participants
in the dispute
of Possessors and
Non-Possessors
was Saint Maximus the Greek (1470?-1556), a .bridge figure. whose long life embraces the
three worlds of Renaissance Italy, Mount Athos, and Muscovy. Greek by birth, he spent the
years of early manhood in Florence and
Venice, as a friend of Humanist scholars such as Pico
della Mirandola; he also fell under the
influence of Savonarola, and for two years was a Domini-
can. Returning to Greece in 1504, he
became a monk on Athos; in 1517 he was invited to Russia
by the Tsar, to translate Greek works into
Slavonic and to correct the Russian service books,
which were disfigured by numerous errors.
Like Nilus, he was devoted to the Hesychast ideals,
and on arriving in Russia he threw in his
lot with the Non-Possessors. He suffered with the rest,
and was imprisoned for twenty-six years, from 1525 to 1551. He was attacked
with particular
bitterness for the changes which he
proposed in the service books, and the work of revision was
broken off and left unfinished. His great
gifts of learning, from which the Russians could have
benefited so much, were largely wasted in
imprisonment. He was as strict as Nilus in his demand
for self-stripping and spiritual poverty.
.If you truly love Christ crucified,. he
wrote, ..be a
stranger, unknown, without country, without
name, silent before your relatives, your acquaintan-
ces, and your friends; distribute all that
you have to the poor, sacrifice all your old habits and all
your own will. (Quoted by E. Denissoff, Maxime le Grec et l.Occident, Paris, 1943, pp. 275-276).
Although the victory of the Possessors meant a close alliance between
Church and State, the
Church did not forfeit all independence.
When Ivan the Terrible.s power was at
its height, the
Metropolitan of
Moscow, Saint Philip
(died 1569), dared to
protest openly against
the Tsar.s
bloodshed and injustice, and rebuked him
to his face during the public celebration of the Liturgy.
Ivan
put him in
prison and later
had him strangled.
Another who sharply
criticized Ivan was
Saint Basil the Blessed, the .Fool in
Christ. (died 1552). Folly for the sake of Christ is a form of
sanctity found in Byzantium, but
particularly prominent in medieval Russia: the .Fool. carries
the
ideal of self-stripping and
humiliation to its
furthest extent, by
renouncing all intellectual
gifts, all forms of earthly wisdom, and by
voluntarily taking upon himself the Cross of madness.
These Fools often performed a valuable
social role: simply because they were fools, they could
criticize those in power with a frankness which no one
else dared to employ. So it was
with
Basil, the .living conscience. of the
Tsar. Ivan listened to the shrewd censure of the Fool, and so
far from punishing him, treated him with
marked honor.
In
1589, with the consent of the Patriarch of Constantinople, the head of the
Russian Church
was raised from the rank of Metropolitan
to that of Patriarch. It was from one point of view a tri-
umph for the ideal of Moscow the Third Rome; but it was a qualified
triumph, for the Moscow
Patriarch did not take first place in the
Orthodox world, but fifth, after Constantinople, Alexan-
dria, Antioch, and Jerusalem (but superior to the more ancient
Patriarchate of Serbia). As things
turned out, the Moscow Patriarchate was to
last for little more than a century.
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