How do we demonstrate the unmistakable cultural distinctiveness of Ukraine from Russia in the late 18th century? Maksym Yaremenko, a professor at the Department of History at the National University of Kyiv-Mohyla Academy, offers an unexpected yet highly convincing approach in his book, “Facing the Challenges of Unification and Discipline: Kyivan Orthodox Metropolitanate in 18th Century” – comparing the religious celebrations of the two nations.
Following the Union of Lublin in 1569, most of the territories of modern Ukraine became part of a single entity – the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. During this period, European practices in political culture, interactions with rulers, governance, education, and art spread as far as Ukraine’s Chernihiv-Sivershchyna region.
To the east lay the Muscovite Tsardom, which developed under the influence of a vastly different tradition – Eastern despotism. This was characterised by the absence of private land ownership among the aristocracy and the lack of a political elite due to the ruler’s despotic nature. After the Pereyaslav Agreement in 1654, the Muscovite Tsardom initiated its expansion into Ukrainian lands. This expansion took on various forms, ranging from the use of ‘hard power’ through military engagements to softer approaches, such as exerting influence through the church.
The Kyivan Metropolis, which was influential in Eastern Europe until the end of the 17th century, soon transformed into one of the dioceses of the Synodal Church. The 18th century became a time of “top-down” changes: the Uniate diocese, covering the western Ukrainian lands of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, sought to form its own identity distinct from Roman Catholics and Orthodox believers. Meanwhile, Orthodox subjects of the Russian emperors became the object of “unification and discipline”, Maksym Yaremenko explains. He traces the success of these reform attempts by examining the so-called misyatseslovy – the liturgical calendars of fixed holidays.
The Kyivan misyatseslovy were widely circulated and underwent censorship checks, yet even under these circumstances, they retained their distinct local features and preserved their identity. Those liturgical calendars never turned into mere copies of the Moscow versions, even after decades of Russia’s aggressive imperial expansion.
Special markings denoted the rank of the holiday, which sometimes differed between Moscow and Kyiv: in the Moscow and Kyivan misyatseslovy, certain holidays weren’t always marked the same way (as a ‘great’, ‘middle’, ‘small’, or ‘ordinary’ holiday). The glorification of military victories was already underway, leading to the Russian synodal decree designating the Day of Remembrance of the Battle of Poltava. For Russians, this date symbolised triumph not just over the army of the Swedish king Charles XII but primarily over his ally, the Ukrainian Hetman Ivan Mazepa, and the faction of Cossacks that supported him. Enraged by what Russians saw as “betrayal,” Peter I ordered the destruction of the Ukrainian Hetman’s capital – the city of Baturyn, mercilessly slaughtering its civilian population. Ukrainian nobility faced a brutal wave of repression aimed at identifying all supporters of Hetman Mazepa. For Ukrainians, what Russians celebrated as a “victory” was a crushing defeat of their aspirations for liberation and freedom.
According to Maksym Yaremenko, the Battle of Poltava occupied a distinct position within Russian ideology, its sanctification serving as a pivotal element of the regime’s objectives. Religion was openly wielded for political ends. However, simply invoking “God’s help” in a “victory” did not automatically transform it into a religious holiday. Nonetheless, Peter I initiated the annual commemoration of this event, and not even the mourning for Tsarevich Alexei in 1718 could abolish the holiday. Alongside the secular courtly ceremonies, references to the so-called “Poltava victory” were consistently incorporated into the liturgical calendar from the 1780s, during the reign of Catherine II, who presented herself as the rightful successor to Peter’s ideology.
Instead of reconstructing the broader beliefs of the general public (for that, one would need to delve into iconography, forgiveness practices, worship rituals, and the like), the church calendars allow us to rec recreate the so-called “high” religious culture. In this way, the church elite disseminated a distinct “confessional ideology.”
The Kyivan church calendars, just before the subordination of the Sofia Metropolitan See to the Russian Synod, reveal a deep respect for the “holy princes of Kyivan Rus”. The focus on local saints, along with the honouring of saints from Serbia, Bulgaria, and Moldavia, laid the cornerstone of the Kyivan Orthodox Metropolitanate’s program. This program, in its debates with adversaries, showcased the spiritual vigour of the Orthodox Sofia See.
If the writers of the 17th century were including saints canonised by Muscovy, they were either highlighting the Kyivan origins of these saints or referring to the traditions of Novgorod and Pskov, both of which had long been at odds with Moscow. However, by the 18th century, the impact of Moscow’s belligerent centralising policies became increasingly apparent.
Maksym Yaremenko, drawing on the synodal revisions of the 1798 calendar, pinpoints three such saints commemorations (contrasting with the Kyivan church calendar of 1681): the Ukrainian Saint Dimitry Tuptalo, Metropolitan of Rostov; Peter I’s triumph over Charles XII at Poltava; and the relocation of the relics of Alexander Nevsky. The remaining—totalling 19 additional Russian holidays—slowly and haphazardly found their way into Ukrainian observances, highlighting the selective nature of embracing Moscow’s customs.
For instance, Kyiv did not embrace the Moscow veneration of the Kazan Icon of the Mother of God, which was seen as a cherished relic of the Romanov dynasty. Several holidays considered highly significant in the Moscow-Petersburg political and religious framework held little sway for Kyivans and were marked as ‘ordinary’ occasions. Moreover, there were instances where it was the Kyivan calendar that shaped the growth of the Moscow calendar, not the other way around.
As Maksym Yaremenko points out, bowing to the imperial past, the era of the imperial Church’s establishment, provides particular insights into today’s questions about Russian ideology, with its focus on the figure of Alexander Nevsky and the Church’s role in propaganda.
Also noteworthy is the comparison between the Kyivan Orthodox misyatseslovy and the Pochaiv Uniate ones. In the Pochaiv calendars, Russian saints are entirely absent—even those venerated in the Kyivan Metropolis during the time of Petro Mohyla, an Orthodox monk and theologian of Moldavian origin who served as metropolitan of Kyiv. Moreover, the Pochaiv misyatseslovy exclude uniquely Kyivan holidays—honouring the Kyiv-Pechersk ascetics and medieval Kyivan figures, which were already included in the Lavra lists as early as the 18th century.
Yaremenko’s research compellingly demonstrates that the so-called “common” Russian-Ukrainian cultural space simply didn’t exist: even after a long coexistence with the empire, representatives of Ukrainian religious culture in the territories formerly under the control of the Kyivan Metropolis continued to celebrate holidays and name children according to their own customs.
Maksym Yaremenko’s research tackles several crucial points. Firstly, it delves into the history of cultural elites, as the church calendar mirrors the ideas of intellectuals. Secondly, it explores the realm of ideas and ideologies, focusing on the hierarchy of important saints and holidays and the Russian authorities’ attempts to use religion for their aggressive assimilationist policy. Thirdly, it offers insights into political history. The views held by Kyivan intellectuals regarding the significance of holidays align more closely with those presented in the Pochaiv misyatseslovy than with the Moscow versions. As a result, despite being initially under a protectorate and later, after the dissolution of the Hetmanate and the partitions of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, within Muscovy, Ukrainians maintained their identity. This identity was notably expressed through their holiday celebrations.
