This BLOG should be read in the context of the current relationship between Russia and the United States which has none of the quality of hope and opportunity that I observed in Russia just two decades ago.
Imagine a snowy day when Pocahontas rowed down the Moscow River to debark in the shadow of the Kremlin near the outdoor swimming pool. Only during the insurgency of the tectonic plates of history, could such paradoxes come into alignment as in 1995.
Our office was on the corner of the second floor, room 32, at 10 Prochinstenka one block off the intersection at Kropatkin Square. It was referred to locally as the Lvov House and pre-1917 it had been the city home of the Orlov Family. Now we were renting the office as the US-Russian Mayor to Mayor Program from ФОНД МИРА (formerly the Russian Peace Fund), a USSR organization through which welfare services were directed. The West had considered it as a front internationally for social subversion. We had a working agreement with Thomas Gregoriev at the Peace Fund to cooperate in the development of peaceful initiatives, possible since Perestroika, that might encourage charity in Russia outside of Communism. The Peace Fund maintained a food, medicine, and clothing closet in the Lvov House. Remember that Communism had just collapsed like a punctured Macy’s helium balloon. Russia had no United Way, no domestic civic clubs, no public philanthropy. Before the Revolution, that had been the venue of the Orthodox Church and limited royal charities. Communism appropriated charity as the purview of the state through which it was able to control poverty by distribution of the wealth through a Communist bureaucracy. By becoming the distributor of the limited resources of a failed economy, leadership could appear to be the only source of benevolence. When that state process was overthrown, and the existing former traditional church was found to be equally impoverished, where could the system be found that was equal to the immense charitable task?
There was no Marshall Plan like I had observed as a youth that rebuilt a defeated and physically destroyed Germany. Russia had lost a war of political philosophy and the resulting economic implosion was visceral, if less visible. So one of the partners with whom we worked was the Peace Fund, severed now from its connection with Communist form but still staffed with benevolent former Communists in a surging Capitalist world. The Peace Fund was desperate for any potential lifeline.
The Orthodox Church had survived a persecution of literally biblical proportions, a survival of accommodation that had left it a fragile shell. So desperate for an iconic image of hope for forlorn believers, one of the first acts of the Patriarch was to use any funds available to gild the domes of as many churches as possible: image over substance. Weak as it was, the Orthodox Church recognized that at an age when the Christian Church in the West was potentially an evangelical juggernaut threatening the newly liberated theological fields, Orthodoxy could easily be smothered in the cradle. Many church leaders feared they stood between the Armageddon of economic capitalism/materialism and a proselytizing phoenix. Could they even survive in order to develop the moral basis on which to build a humanity of community?
Our partnership in polity was the United Methodist Church and the Ministry of Education and Catechism of the Patriarchate of Moscow. At that moment, the Methodists had around twenty congregations in the area of post-Soviet Russia. Their tremendous advantage in the circumstances was that along with the Baptist and Reform denominations, they had been allowed for years by Communist authority to operate under restriction. Under the new federal law they were technically grandfathered. In the spirit of Perestroika, how could they now be restricted by the interests of the Orthodox Church. As the one without resources, how could the Orthodox Church deny the potential that there was in the rich resources of the western churches. Quid pro quo! in spirit. The Patriarchate agreed to a gradual expansion of Methodist congregations. Through Stafford and Associates, under the US/Russia Mayor to Mayor Program, we were hired to assist the Russian Orthodox Church through Father Ioan Econometzev, Head of the Ministry of Education and Catechism, in the development of charitable programs to assist particular areas of social need by the liberated Orthodox Church in the new Russia.
We had success in convening the first Orthodox Women’s Conference in Uglich, bringing church leaders together from as far away as Siberia, along with women leaders from the United States in such varied fields as journalism and banking. These were not high-level bureaucrats or corporate leaders but individuals experienced in their fields who could potentially communicate on an operational level. The Mayor of Uglich, Eleanora Shervamechiva, for example, was the first female mayor in Russia and a member of the Dumas.
Now, through the Association of Small and Historic Cities, organized under Father Ioan, and with Dumas participation, we were being directed to the second tier of historic Russian cities, smaller and less known in the West than the cities of the Golden Ring, to suggest steps to develop tourism potential. These cities typically were heavy with history and historic built environment, particularly churches. Uglich, for example was the city where Dmetry, the last surviving son of Ivan the Terrible, a teenager protected by his mother from palace intrigue, had been murdered, supposedly by Boris Gudenov in order to gain the throne. It was already an established stop on boat excursions on the Volga River.
In 1997, we were being approached as one of the cooperating associations on the ground that could objectively consider the creative initiative in the new Russia. At an operational level, we had been able to connect government and state resources in the US and Russia, outside the structure of politics and commerce, making use of the fundamental potential of the church and the state. We had learned to keep our heads down and be satisfied to work in the trenches which was the favored position in times of turmoil.
As an American Thanksgiving holiday approached, Suzanne Stafford began to conceive the need to introduce Moscow to the spirit of appreciation that was the basis of Thanksgiving. Russians were natural sharers. The “widow’s mite,” must originally have been a Russian folk tale. Also, Russia, not historically considered a “melting pot,” encouraged its indigenous people by allowing them to establish indigenous republics. American Thanksgiving seemed a particularly appropriate public holiday to introduce onto such an historic stage.
She began by requesting that one of the particularly supportive North Carolina churches send some honey-baked hams. She requested another friend to mail her the Pocahontas costume she had worn on another occasion. Suzanne’s daughter, Degan, along with us for this trip, requested that her class back in Colfax gather Thanksgiving stories and poems that would illustrate the spirit of the season. Then Suzanne organized all the American and Russian friends in Moscow who associated with the humanitarian efforts we were making, to plan a menu and assign production.
The day before the banquet, we were finally notified that our hams had arrived at Demedova Airport. We had nearly given up on their arrival on time so Suzanne and I went to the airport to retrieve them. The arrival area was gated and we were allowed in only when we proved we had a specific package to retrieve. This was at 10 o’clock in the morning. We entered a modern airport building already awash with people of every description and nationality. Unable to get directions to navigate the system, we each entered a line hoping one would lead to our target. Neither did, but did provide us more specific directions to a line for receipts from America. We nearly reached the front when the alarm went off and all staff went on a two hour lunch break closing everything, even the gate so no one in parking could get out.
We waited in the car, nothing to eat. When business opened again everyone started over. On reaching the front of the line we were advised that we had to go to the back corner of a large storage building to see Evanka who would give us the package after stamping the form we were provided in multiple. After what seemed like a mile walk through rooms of dust covered, impounded Mercedes and Audi automobiles, we brightened at finding Evanka who took us to the shelves and pointed to our package. We could not take it because the officer at the front should have stamped the sheet first. We had to walk back. The officer at the front, threw up his hands and said something unpleasant in Russian. He grabbed the paper and led us back to Evanka in a half-trot. Their contest of shouts above continued for several minutes before Evanka went to her boss. A second round, this time three contestants and two observers, ended with an exchange of notes on the receipt justifying each position. We were handed our package off-handedly, the receipt being the document in triplicate that was the bureaucratic prize.
The setting for the Thanksgiving banquet was spectacular: the grandeur of Russia from a former age with the simplicity of a feast in the American forest. The XVI century mansion took its name from Russian General Mikhail Orlov, a leader of the Decembrist and at another time the author, Boris Pasternak lived here as a tutor. The entrance to the Orlov House was directly from the street. There was a guard at the desk to check each entrant. The foyer was dominated by a wide, direct, marble staircase covered with a maroon runner with iconic borders leading to a landing that reversed to the second-floor balcony. On the left was a parquet floor ballroom with columns and two-story high windows. To the right rear was the office of the US/Russian Mayor to Mayor Program, and the Peace Fund office was on the other side of the balcony landing. The large office beside ours belonged to the Russian Chess Federation, headed then by Anatoly Karpov, World Chess Champion (1975-1985). A massive chess board decorated the room. Karpov was also President of the Peace Fund.
A long table was set for 25 people with a red vinyl cloth and floral arrangements and the finest plastic that Indians would have used in America. This room had been selected because it was adjacent to a large kitchen and on entry, the guests were encapsulated in the aromas of Thanksgiving and greeted by Suzanne as Pocahontas. There was a slight delay. The cooks had decided on fresh Russian turkeys instead of having them sent from America, but apparently Russian birds take a little longer to cook.
The mixture of Russian and English-speaking guests took pre planning but most, uncertain of their ability to speak the other language, could understand it fairly well. The bounty of the food bridged all conversation, and strange foods were explained and receipts exchanged. Vodka was available in abundance, the wine of enthusiastic conversation. Not traditional at American Thanksgivings, it was a bridge we shared. Corn was explained as the most symbolic of the traditional Indian foods, along with turkey, of which the Russians were of course familiar.
Suzanne’s explanation of the seasonal tradition was followed by Dagan, symbolic of “the future leadership of youth.” She read a few of the Thanksgiving poems and pronouncements and showed off a wall of posted illustrations by children in America. This seemed a little staged but appropriate. Then a table of toasts carried us all off into the afternoon on special wings of nostalgia.
Father Ioan had brought his English-speaking secretary, Katerina, but she proved redundant as he lifted his glass as honored guest, and expounded in clear English, his thoughts about the significance of his grandson, Peter. He lived in America with his mother and was being educated as an American. It was a declarative statement. He and Dagan represented the world we all sought to make better. He spoke of his years as a representative of the Russian Orthodox Church in Greece. He was still Head of the Orthodox Brotherhood. He pointed out that the Orthodox Church needed to expand their structure of religious education. It would be difficult because of tradition. He would soon open the Russian Orthodox University in Moscow as Rector. This would be a University, not a Seminary, but they would encourage clergy to study economics, law, architecture, publishing and media subjects. He hoped to achieve a partnership with an American university medical school. The people at the table recognized that such ideas were anathema within portions of Orthodox hierarchy. But Ioan spoke of the encouragement he was receiving from Patriarch Alexi II, his friend since college. “Zdorov’ja!,” to health.”
Ludmilla Kornureva was a Professor of Philosophy. She was a close friend of Suzanne’s and had been particularly involved in the Women’s Conference. She spoke of growing up and educated in Russia under Communism. She had nothing but praise for the content of her education but as a teacher she considered herself liberated not revolutionized. She spoke of her previous trip to the US without funds, when she had been befriended by Suzanne and how much their friendship had meant to both of them through the years. She was particularly thankful for the opportunity to have her parents with her to see this mix of international cooperation. She wanted to dance. “Zdorov’ja!”
General Kornureva rose frail but imposing and spoke for himself and wife. “Fifty years ago my residence was in Washington, DC where I was a military attaché for the USSR during wartime, when the US and Russia fought a common enemy. The international military community in Washington was very close. Men who had fought the war knew the price of war but they were all patriotic disciples of their country’s politics. I have many dear American friends and we all grow old. Back then all Russians believed that our sacrifice in the Great Patriotic War had saved the world from Hitler. Americans believed that they had supplied the men and machines that had saved the world from Nazism. It was a natural competition that developed into the Cold War of separation. I am thankful that we come to this table under more promising prospects. “Zdorov’ja!”
Marjory Loory had worked with Suzanne on several projects over the years and with Father Ioan. Her husband, Stuart Loory, was with CNN and had just published Seven Days That Shook the World: The Collapse of Soviet Communism, that was a pictorial narrative and television report on the fall of Communism. “Russia has again passed through a baptism of fire,” said Marjory. “It is in this period of testing and recommitment that the spirit of the Russian people will be drawn out and tested. It is my hope that the Western democracies will see this opportunity for a new order, to see also the opportunity to assist, openly and as future partners. This is a time to promote strong communities of faith. We can be thankful but we must reach out to each other. “Zdorov’ja!”
Bill and Ginger Wallace were from Dallas, Texas. Bill had spent his career with the Federal Reserve System and was now the CEO of the Federal Reserve Bank in Dallas. He was the closest, within the American delegation, to a high level Government official and he had been meeting for a week with banking managers throughout Moscow. “I am inspired by the people assembled here,” he began. “Images and symbolisms are racing through my head of the potential for this kind of compassionate concern. Leadership is often restricted, by real and imagined political concerns, from being able to organize potential. The task is going to be to translate the symbolism present at this Thanksgiving in Moscow into a tangible impetus. Zdorov’ja!”
Thomas Gregoriev spoke for the Peace Fund. “This is a deceptively grand place from which to operate a very struggling charity organization but we are thankful for it. The Peace Fund is in transformation while we are called on daily to meet a wide variety of human needs, helpless people who have lost all support. Downstairs we have an office full of food and clothing and blankets to serve people living on the street. We also have a pharmacy to provide medicine. From all over Russia we are called on by groups like the Chernobyl Victim’s Families and the Children’s Fund in the Russian cities where we formerly functioned. Russia has got to find a way to transition from administered charity to public charity. Our Orthodox church is already focused on the need but is limited in its resources. We hope that such organization as the US/Russian Mayor to Mayor Program can connect us to the model of American charity. Russians are by nature charitable. They need to organize the new vehicles for delivering that charity to the real need. Thanksgiving is a start. Zdorov’ja!”
As winter set into the bones of Russia in 1995, we could look down along Prechistenskya Street from our second floor balcony to the intersection at Kropotkin Square and see steam rising above the wooden palisade around the public swimming pool. It was the site of the Cathedral of Christ the Savior which had been detonated by order of Joseph Stalin in 1932. The monumental statue of Lenin, planned to be the largest in the world, had failed when begun on the site because it kept sinking. The public pool was the alternative of the Communist system to the church and the statue. In the next few years we would watch as the Cathedral of Christ the Savior would rise again on its original location, a monumental metaphor.
In 1995, Perestroika was another of Winston Churchill’s Russian “riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma,” that the US and the West were never able to fathom. It was a time when a small group, even a single, well-intentioned American, could travel there and attract an impressive community of like-minded altruists. Such people then could struggle together to be attuned to compassion. Unfortunately, there was not the sufficient public will, or will within the faith community, to fashion a template that could complete the endeavor.
Charles D. Rodenbough 