Christianizing Crimea: Shaping Sacred Space in the Russian Empire and Beyond (review)

This fine monograph examines the “Christianizing” of the Crimea—from the annexation in the late-eighteenth century to the Crimean War and its aftermath. After first mapping the myriad ethnic and confessional groups that populated the area, Mara Kozelsky examines how the Russian state and church came to grips with this complex, rapidly developing region. She shows that state and church authorities did not always agree (especially on the matter of converting Muslims), but that praxis varied considerably (with local officials subverting the general-governor’s opposition, for example). This study also shows how public opinion, steeped in images of a glorious Greek and Christian past, helped shape attitudes even before the region was predominantly Russian and Orthodox. The turning point came under Archbishop Innokentii (Borisov) at mid-century, a zealot for buttressing the Christian identity of the region, most dramatically through the establishment of new monasteries based on the model of Mount Athos. The Crimean War completed this process, linking the Crimea with a national identity that was at once Russian and Orthodox. The author has mined an impressive array of sources, not only printed materials neglected by previous historians but also central and local archival materials, and places her findings within the larger context of current scholarship.

A short review can hardly do justice to the scale of research and close analysis. The author draws extensively on Innokentii’s manuscript collections in the Russian National Library and the Russian State Historical Archive, and to a lesser extent on the provincial archives in Odessa and Simferopol. The review of secondary works is impressive, with little missing from the bibliography; a rare omission is L. V. Vel’nikova’s 2007 article.¹

Even so thoughtful, meticulously researched a work leaves some questions unanswered. The author seeks to argue that the discourse (whether sermons, archaeological reports, or magazine articles) “craft[ed] Russian identity” (book jacket) and played a major role in shaping public, even popular, opinion. Given the miniscule size of the press (ecclesiastical and secular), the abysmal, single-digit literacy rates, and the infrequency of preaching by parish priests before the mid-nineteenth century (as is evident in the klirovye vedomosti), it is precarious to assume that Innokentii’s sermons had a broad impact. Indeed, the author examines only the discourse (“tropes”), not the reception— even in high circles, let alone the mass of unlettered Russian peasantry. Second, “Christianizing” here really pertains only to discourse; the reader learns little about parish life—about the miracles, conversions, apostasy, adultery, religious indifference, and parish-clergy conflict that fill the diocesan archive (including a collection in the State Archive of Odessa Oblast—the Odessa consistory, fond 173). Although the author has a coherent narrative, there is insufficient attention paid to priests and parishioners, who remain anonymous and inaccessible, despite the lengthy exegesis of sermons and references to “sacred landscapes.” Finally, there are minor peccadilloes; Innokentii, for example, was previously appointed bishop in Vologda (not Vologod) and in 1841, not 1838 (p. 18).

Aside from such reservations, this study provides a valuable analysis of elite perception and writing about the Crimea on the part of the ranking clergy as well as state officials. It also helps to shed light on what the author calls “the pan-Orthodox sentiment and religious patriotism” that developed “throughout the empire and found expression in New Russia” (p. 67).