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SYSYN PeterMohylaKiev 1984
SYSYN PeterMohylaKiev 1984
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FRANK E. SYSYN
Although the importance of Peter Mohyla and the Kiev Academy has
been generally acknowledged, relatively little literature about them
exists for the reader not conversant in Slavic languages. Western
5 Just how difficult the figure of Mohyla is for Soviet scholars, who must seek out
a groundswell for "reunification" in the Ukraine, can be seen in B. N. Fiona's
statement about Mohyla's contacts with the Muscovite government in the 1630s:
"In this way, in the years of the 'golden decade,' a clear change of the earlier
completely loyalist position of the Kiev metropolitan see to the Commonwealth
was noticed. Even this group found it necessary to make a definite step on the path
of accommodation with the Russian government, an approval of its unification
program" (p. 225). V. T. Pashuto, B. N. Floria, A. L. Khoroshkevich, Drevne-
russkoe nasledie i istoricheskie sud* by vostochnogo slavianstva (Moscow, 1982).
with which Florovsky discusses Mohyla and his school ensure that his
discussion will affect scholarly thinking.
Father Florovsky's thesis about Russian theology and history is
clearly stated in the preface. He conceives his work to be an experi-
mental synthesis in the history of Russian thought. He argues that
unbiased history has never existed and cannot exist. His work is based
on the premise that the intellectual break from patristics and Byzan-
tine thought was "the chief cause for all the interruptions and failures
in Russia's development." It can be shown in historical perspective, he
maintains, that the narrow path of patristic theology was the only true
way for Russian Christians. Only when they adhered to this path did
they make genuine achievements.
Florovsky has provided, in sum, a theologically motivated history of
"Russia's development." Even those who do not share his Christian
religious convictions or his focus on patristics should consider what he
says in formulating an understanding of East European cultural his-
tory, if for no other reason than because Florovsky's horizons and
knowledge make the work one of the most important interpretations
of Russian cultural history. Yet this book is difficult to analyze as a
"history of Russia's development," for Florovsky is not interested in
what motivated cultural and intellectual development, but rather in
pointing out spiritual mistakes.
Although Father Florovsky never addresses such problems as the
evolution of nations and national cultures directly, his work belongs to
the tradition in Russian historiography that regards the Russian nation
as formed with the first Christianization - that is, as a community
essentially unchanged from the eleventh to the seventeenth or the
nineteenth century. This assumption is accompanied by the other tenet
of traditional Russian historiography - the Kiev/Suzdal'/Moscow
historical succession and the basic unity of the "Russian" people
throughout time. In Father Florovsky's analysis, the Ukraine and
Belorussia are merely subsumed under the theology and history of
Russia. He never seriously considers that Kiev/Galicia-Volhynia/
Grand Duchy of Lithuania/Kiev was a different cultural and historical
experience from Kiev/Suzdal'/Moscow. Yet in practice he provides rich
data and perceptive observations that could support just such an
interpretation.
The first chapter, "The Crisis of Russian Byzantinism," traces
developments from the introduction of Byzantine tradition to what
Florovsky views as the final rejection of Byzantinism in sixteenth-
Prince Andrei Kurbskii for his rejection of Western influences and his
program of translating patristic and sacred writings into Church Sla-
vonic. He also commends Artemii and Ivan Fedorov. Leaving aside
the question of the validity of his description of Kurbskii's work and
activities, I find Florovsky's affirmation of Kurbskii's attitudes closely
tied to the condemnation of the entire course of Ukrainian spiritual
development. Hence when he compares Prince Konstantyn Ostroz'kyi
with Kurbskii, Florovsky writes: "Of the two, Ostrozhskii's cultural
horizons were probably broader, but there was less coherence in his
views. He was prone to adjustment and compromise and his politics
frequently vacillated" (p. 76). It is "adjustment and compromise" that
Florovsky considers great failings, and only a few indigenous Ruthen-
ian churchmen meet his test of eschewing Latin learning - Herasym
Smotryts'kyi, Vasyl Suraz'kyi and Demian Nalyvaiko in the sixteenth
century and Ivan Vyshens'kyi and Zakharii Kopystens'kyi in the early
seventeenth. For Florovsky this period in the Ukraine and Belorussin
was "an untimely season," unfavorable for religious life, the organiza-
tion of schools, and "some form of calmness and clarity of thought, so
indispensable to the life of the mind." He does see considerable
accomplishments in the age, but avoids discussing them by maintaining
that it is still not possible to assess their full significance (p. 57). This is
one of the few times that Florovsky seems reluctant to give an opinion.
The accomplishments were made in face of the great dangers of
Westernization and union with Rome, thanks, says Florovsky, to
steadfast adherence to the Greek and Slavonic traditions. Chief among
them is the Ostroh Bible, which he praises particularly because it
appeared not in the vernacular, like Bibles of that time in the West,
but in Church Slavonic. He asserts that in their battle with the Uniates,
"The only cultural concession of the Orthodox loyalists was the supple-
mentation of Church Slavonic with the local vernacular, the russkii
dialekt. With the passage of time this dialect came into increasing
literary use because the common people understood it much better
than Church Slavonic" (p. 63). The implication is that there is some-
thing intrinsically un-Orthodox in using vernacular. Florovsky bristles
against Skarga's criticisms of Church Slavonic, counter-attacking that
while the Polish language was not mature enough to be a vehicle of
learning in the late sixteenth century, Church Slavonic was (p. 62).
Florovsky maintains that only a rigidly conservative linguistic-
cultural policy could combat Western influence, the Union of Brest,
and Polonization. His entire discussion mixes and, I would argue,
excel at, as they leave the amassing of detailed data to those close to
each unique culture. But apart from some useful observations about
cultural crisis, about social groups during cultural change, and about
stages in educational reform, this book does not fulfill its promise.
There is no rigorous description of the cultural context and no careful
definition or consistent meaning for such terms as "nationalism,"
"renaissance," and "national culture." Above all, the authors' histori-
cal knowledge and reading of source materials are insufficient for their
purpose. This is not to say that their study is not valuable, however.
For one thing, it points to questions that need to be researched.
Another unexpected but welcome bonus, alluded to in the subtitle, is
information on the continuous and powerful Greek influence on
Ukrainians, Belorussians and Russians.
The study focuses on the East Slavs' response to challenge from
Western societies. Medlin and Patrinelis maintain that "To survive as a
national culture meant to succeed in both mental and physical combat
with their neighbors" (p. 11), and that this challenge was posed to "all
the Orthodox peoples of Rus'," and not only to the Muscovites
(p. 11). They see the alternatives facing "Russian," or more specifi-
cally Muscovite, culture as having been three: "to engage in extensive
cultural contacts and borrowing from Western Europe (Latin-based,
both Catholic and Protestant) institutions; to renew, or revive, the
Greco-Byzantine traditions in the context of Russian needs and inter-
ests; or to rely exclusively on parochial, and especially Muscovite,
Russian culture as the substance of intellectual processes, social insti-
tutions, and body of knowledge" (p. 77). In their view Muscovy
operated primarily with the third alternative until the mid-seventeenth
century, when it began to adopt the cultural reforms already imple-
mented in the Ukraine and Belorussia. Hence, the first part of their
study outlines the process by which Muscovy chose the third alterna-
tive, a process tempered by important Greek influences. The second
part examines the cultural history of the Ukraine and Belorussia,
which culminated in the period 1625 to 1646, that is, the time of Peter
Mohyla and his school, described as "a cultural turning point, the
beginning of a string of intellectual lights, throughout the lands of
Orthodox Rus.'"
The sobering words in this tall order are surely "within his reach,"
which properly should be "within his horizons." It is hard to conceive
that Mohyla was concerned about the training of economic managers
or the development of modern nation-states. Granted, these conse-
quences might well have derived from Mohyla's decision, even if he
did not foresee them, but I still must question whether the impact went
that far. Medlin and Patrinelis correctly emphasize the tremendous
increase in knowledge and change in thought patterns inherent in the
adoption of the Jesuit curriculum by an Orthodox institution. They are
quite right to see the achievements of the medieval and early modern
Latin West as ultimately the foundations for secular learning, nation-
states, and scientific breakthroughs. But by the mid-seventeenth cen-
tury the Jesuit academy was no longer at the forefront of learning. Far
from inspiring secular learning or civic virtues conducive to a modern
nation-state, its Polish variants supported religious obscurantism, de-
structive Sarmatian megalomania, and the disintegration of the ap-
paratus of the state. The Kiev Academy did, of course, represent an
important phase in the intellectual history of the Eastern Slavs. The
secular thought and state-building that Medlin and Patrenelis are
ultimately interested in may have depended on Kievan learning and
Kievan cadres - but they did not come primarily from Kiev, but by
transplantation from northern and western, particularly Protestant,
Europe to eighteenth-century St. Petersburg.
The authors raise the problems of national sentiment, national
culture, and political structure, but fail to deal with them satisfactorily.
Use of the terms is remarkably imprecise and connection with
Mohyla's reforms is only loosely drawn. The authors recognize the
period as one of rising national consciousness in Rus', but they do not
state clearly that this phenomenon often challenged the traditionalist,
universalist world view of Orthodoxy and was not knowingly fostered
by the Orthodox hierarchs. If "national" and "ethnic" issues are
indeed important to Medlin and Petrinelis, they have impeded under-
standing of them by terminological confusion. Consider the following:
"Ruthenia (Western and Southern Ukraine)" (p. 73), "Greek resi-
dents figured prominently alongside active Ruthenian families . . .
and they often had certain advantages over the Russians" (p. 110) ; "of
both east Russian (Moscovite) and west Russian (Kievan and Lithuan-
ian) Orthodox churches" (p. 125); "Russian-Ruthenian Orthodox
clerics" (p. 120, fn. 3a), "Western Russia," "Ruthenian," "Western
Rus'" (p. 102); "Orthodox Rusaki" (p. 153); "within the several Rus-
sian nationality areas" (p. 10); "Western and Southern Russia"
(p. 80); "At Kiev, ... the indigeneous clergy (Ruthenians of Malata
Rus', or 'Ukraine')" (p. 105); "This fact and its [Lviv's] largely Rus-
sian speaking population made it by the end of the 16th century the
strongest bastion of Orthodox culture in Western Russia" (p. 104).
The reader's head spins from the multitude of national and territorial
designations, and no attempt is made by the authors to discuss what
"Rus'," "Rossija," and "Rus'kyi narod" meant at the time. Their
general argument seems to be that a rise in national consciousness, like
the cultural reforms of Mohyla, occurred in "Southwest Russia" before
1648 and was subsequently transferred to "Muscovite Russia." There it
developed into the identity of Imperial Russia, which, in time, came to
encompass "South West Russia." Regrettably, Muscovy is often need-
lessly included in events and processes occurring in the Ukraine,
leading to such absurdities as associating the Union of Brest with the
causes of Muscovy's collapse in the Time of Troubles (p. 154).
In general the authors offer inadequate discussion of consciousness,
communities, and polities. They do not undertake to define what
national consciousness was in Rus' and how it related to religious
issues. Little attention is paid to the political reality and political
culture of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth to which Mohyla
himself was profoundly loyal, particularly in preference over Muscovy.
Finally, there is no recognition or consideration that the rise of
national consciousness in Rus' may have been distinctly "Ruthenian"
**
Apart from their religious significance* Mohyla and his school must
be examined in their relation to the political institutions of Eastern
Europe. Historians have long focused on the religious situation in
Poland-Lithuania, with some dealing particularly with the religious
persecution of the Orthodox and others underlining the unique degree
of religious toleration in the Commonwealth. Orthodoxy's fundamen-
tal problem in medieval Poland and Lithuania was to find a place in a
Catholic state. Its problem in the sixteenth-century Commonwealth
was to compete with Protestant and Catholic intellectual and organiza-
tional challenges. But by the early seventeenth century its problem was
simply to survive. In the first quarter century, the Orthodox church
showed that neither government policy nor the Union of Brest could
obliterate the church. In the Mohyla years, a new, less doctrinaire king
sought to come to grips with Orthodox survival. The 1632 "legal"
hierarchy of Mohyla was to be the cornerstone of this new royal policy.
The government's concessions of bishoprics to the Orthodox and
recognition of the collegium were bought by the Orthodox hierarchy's
Mohyla and from a desire to see his influence as being dear and
coherent rather than ambivalent and contradictory. We must recog-
nize, of course, that intent can play little part in the discussion, since
the Moldavian-born Mohyla was only tangentially interested in prob-
lems of Ukrainian "nation-building." The whole problem deserves
further research and examination.
In contrast to the issue of national culture and consciousness, our
evaluation of the effects of Mohyla's reform on cultural change and
society should take into account his perception of that society, his
plajis for change, and his steps to implement those plans. We lack his
direct statements in these matters, which could confirm our observa-
tions. Nevertheless, we do have sufficient indirect statements to permit
discussion. Mohyla's autograph stories, notes, and letters allow for an
analysis of world view that can rarely be undertaken for a seventeenth-
century East European. Golubev's "biography" of Mohyla is actually a
history of an age, an account of its accomplishments, rather than a
study focused on one of its prominent individuals. While I doubt we
need a psychohistory of Mohyla, we do need a careful analysis of his
statements, yielding solid information about his views and values.
Mohyla is one of those rare individuals who put a personal stamp on
his age. He did not work alone, however. We need to know about his
colleagues - where they came from, what backgrounds and education
they had, what they did, and what they set out to do. We have pieces
of the puzzle, but lack cogent analyses. Still more telling, we know too
little about Ruthenian society - its general needs and its specific
reactions to Mohyla. What strata desired his reforms? Who made use
of the collegium and its publications? How did the curriculum fulfill
their needs? Medlin and Petrinelis rightly say that we must look at the
"traditional" culture, the challenge to it, the sectors of society awak-
ened to the need for change (brotherhoods, nobles), and the sources of
reform, Latin and Greek. But their sketchy and faulty treatment does
not begin to do justice to the topic.
The very sweep and extent of the topics on which research is
necessary is the best proof of the importance of Peter Mohyla and his
school. Until now Western scholarship has done too little to advance
our knowledge about this remarkable man and the collegium that he
founded.
Harvard University