Rumania's Open Churches

Every nation in Europe glories in its monuments to faith and civilization. For centuries now, pilgrims and art lovers have lingered in reverence before the dazzling domed temples of Byzantine Ravenna, the Gothic splendors of Canterbury and Chartres, the sinuous harmonies of the Baroque churches of Saragossa, Vienna and Prague. But few tourists have yet made their way to Moldavia, a distant province of northern Rumania, where some of the loveliest churches in Europe are clustered (see color pages). The churches of Moldavia are exceptional not only for their beauty but for how they are treated by the Communist state. While most of the churches in neighboring Russia are closed or have been turned into museums, the doors of virtually all Rumania's churches are open wide to the worshiper.

To visit the Moldavian churches and to investigate the unusual status of religion in Rumania, Contributing Editor Patricia Blake recently toured the country. Her report:

WHEN the leaders of world Communism pay state visits to the fraternal Rumanian Socialist Republic, they are often startled to find President Nicolae Ceausescu flanked by bearded dignitaries in sumptuous clerical robes --usually Patriarch Justinian, the primate of the Rumanian Orthodox Church and Dr. Moses Rosen, the Chief Rabbi of Bucharest. Such affronts to the militantly atheist ideology of Communism have been frequent occurrences since Ceausescu came to power in 1965. High-ranking prelates are now elected to the Rumanian National Assembly. Some members of the Rumanian Communist Party's Central Committee regularly attend Easter services in Bucharest. Clergymen of every denomination receive part of their salaries from the state.

Religious devotion seems at high tide. In the capital, as in virtually every town and village of Rumania, citizens can be seen devoutly crossing themselves as they pass before the Orthodox churches, all of which are crowded with worshipers. Furthermore, the government has spent 192.2 million lei ($10.7 million) on the renovation of hundreds of churches across the country.

No Change of Heart. This permissiveness derives from no spiritual conversion on the part of Rumania's Communist rulers but from considerations of national self-interest. In 1948, right after the Russians brought Communism to power in Rumania, the new government duly followed the Soviet example by clamping down on all religions, including the predominant Orthodox Church. Hardest hit were the 1,560,000 Uniate Catholics, who are in union with Rome, but practice the Byzantine rite. The Uniate Church was outlawed, its five bishops and most of its parish priests arrested. Many died in prison. In a second spasm of repression in 1958-60, hundreds of Orthodox priests, monks and lay members were flung into prison. Even Patriarch Justinian was briefly placed under house arrest.

Since then, Rumania, the once dutiful satellite of Russia, has started spinning out of the Soviet orbit. Although Ceausescu continues to deny his people most civil liberties, he has resisted Soviet economic and foreign policies that counter Rumania's own interests. Notably, he refused to join Warsaw Pact forces in the 1968 Czechoslovak invasion, foreseeing a similar fate for Rumania. To shore up Rumania's perilous independence, Ceausescu has taken pains to secure the loyalty of the country's 20 million citizens. Since 15 million of them are Orthodox Christians, and the rest mostly Christians of other denominations, Ceausescu decided to be more liberal in his treatment of religion.

The chief beneficiary of his new concern is the Orthodox Church, which is not only a faith but also a symbol of Rumanian national identity. Established in the 14th century, the church was long the unique custodian of the culture and traditions of the Rumanian people as they suffered invasion and occupation by Magyars, Turks and Russians. Today, as Rumania once again feels threatened by Russia, the government is shrewdly fostering the patriotism embodied in the church.

It is no accident that Rumania's most celebrated churches are in Moldavia, since it was here that the pious 15th century prince Stephen the Great defiantly stood off the invading Turkish infidels in several famous battles, not only making himself Rumania's foremost national hero, but also earning the admiration of Pope Sixtus IV, who gave him the title "athlete of Christ." Stephen's spirit endures in Moldavia. The superb monasteries, founded in his reign and fortified against the foreign invader, testify to Rumania's persistent will for independence.

The artists, architects and craftsmen who flourished in Moldavia in the 15th and 16th centuries elaborated their own singular style of architecture and decoration. Only the churches of Moldavia can boast of icons painted all around the outside walls, like so many brilliantly illuminated Old and New Testaments. These churches reflect Rumania's Byzantine heritage, in art as in religion, but their architecture is based on a completely original system of "Moldavian arches," used to vault the nave on which the tower rests. The graceful conical roofs complete a superb composition of colors and forms that is unique in all of Christendom.

On Sundays and holy days, the Moldavian collective farmers throng to these churches to attend services in which Stephen the Great and the leaders of the Rumanian Socialist Republic are both mentioned in a single benediction. Weekdays, the same peasants--men, women and adolescents--are often seen marching in motley uniform, with rifles and shotguns. They are members of the civilian military brigades organized for national defense by Ceausescu on the day after the Czechoslovak invasion. Such grim and hopeless exercises suggest that the descendants of Stephen's soldiers are again determined to do battle for God and nation, if not for Communism.

Orthodoxy Ascendant. The government's new tolerance of religion extends surprisingly far, at least where Orthodoxy is concerned. The official Communist press, which only lately was ranting against believers, is now under orders to avoid antireligious propaganda. The Orthodox hierarchy is allowed to publish nine magazines. Last year, 100,000 Bibles were printed by a state press, on paper donated by the Archbishop of Canterbury. Although religious education is prohibited in the state schools, 1,900 students attend Orthodox seminaries and theological institutes. Many of the younger Orthodox nuns and monks, who were forced in 1967 to abandon their vocations for "socially useful" work, have been quietly permitted to return to the serenity and beauty of their monasteries.

Rumania's minorities, Hungarians and German-Saxons, are Roman-rite Catholics or Protestants. They, too, have benefited from this liberalization, though to a far lesser degree. Two theological institutes are training 171 would-be pastors of several denominations, who will serve 935,000 Hungarian and 187,000 Saxon Protestants. Rumania's 1,200,000 Catholics of the Roman rite, mainly Hungarians, peacefully attend Mass in their churches. There exists, however, an acute shortage of Bibles and prayer books for Protestants and Catholics.

But the status of Catholics in Rumania varies sharply according to their nationality and the rite they practice. The illegal Uniates, Rumanian Catholics of the Byzantine rite, have long been mistrusted by the Orthodox clergy and by superpatriots because of the Uniate breakaway from Orthodoxy to Catholicism in 1698. Some Uniates have joined the Orthodox Church, but the majority still have to worship clandestinely. All Catholic religious orders are banned.

The first sign of improvement in the lot of Catholics came in 1967, when the immensely revered Hungarian bishop, Aron Marton, was released after enduring 18 years of prison and house arrest. Shortly thereafter, Rumanian Premier Ion Gheorghe Maurer paid a visit to the Vatican. Last March, Bishop Marton himself was finally allowed to visit Rome. Major, state-subsidized restoration has begun on the 13th century Catholic Cathedral of Alba Iulia. Here, the tiny, white-haired bishop, now 84, celebrates Mass every Sunday, as martyr and witness to the vagaries of Rumanian religious policy.

Rumania's treatment of Jews has been exceptionally decent under Communism. Before the 1967 Arab-Israeli war, the government permitted some 300,000 Jews to leave the country, mainly for Israel. The remaining 100,000 suffer no official antiSemitism, but many long to join their relatives in Israel. But power politics have forced a reversal in Ceausescu's emigration policies. Having already incurred the displeasure of the U.S.S.R. by maintaining good relations with Israel, he is apparently unwilling to provoke Russia further by allowing large-scale Jewish emigration.

Avoiding the Sword. The Rumanian state has exacted a price for every measure of religious freedom it provides. The highest-ranking clergyman to the lowliest parish priest must all satisfy the authorities in order to remain in place. This means that prelates are frequently required to promote policies considered to be in the Rumanian national interest. In grimmer days, pulpits were often used as platforms for political exhortation. Patriarch Justinian dutifully denounced the 1956 Hungarian revolt, and Chief Rabbi Rosen likewise excoriated NATO for arming West Germany. Nowadays, the clergy tends to have more innocuous, often worthy, obligations, such as raising money abroad for the victims of last spring's disastrous Rumanian floods.

Still, the necessity to serve both God and Caesar weighs heavily on many churchmen. Others philosophically shrug it off, with the ancient and oft-repeated Rumanian proverb: "He who lowers his head avoids the sword."

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