BEING HUMAN

#BeingHuman. #OnTheRoadAgain. This text, the result of several recent sleepless nights of reflection and journaling (on the recent trip) about the moral price of our silence, may be overly lengthy for some. However, it is an attempt to comprehend the profound nature of the institutional silence of Russian Christians, both from 2014 and 2022 – a silence that has become the defining position of both church and theological education institutions. It is a silence that multiplies its spiritual emptiness with each passing day of the ongoing full-scale Russian unprovoked aggression and war against Ukraine…

Preamble

In times of war, the phenomenon of silence acquires an exceptional existential depth that goes far beyond the mere absence of words. It becomes a spiritual barometer, revealing our soul’s depths and attitude toward truth. There are two fundamentally different spiritual states: silence as an act of preserving divine truth and a refusal to bear witness to the truth. These two types of silence may appear similar on the surface, but they are radically opposite in their internal nature. It is akin to how silence can be the reverent stillness of a temple filled with the presence of life, or the deathly quiet of a cemetery devoid of life.

The first type of silence is witnessing divine truth, not out of fear but in reverence for God. It is a refusal to speak the language of untruth, which becomes a proclamation of truth. In wartime, this often requires more courage than words, as it means not participating in and resisting the distortion of reality.

The second type of silence is a refusal to bear witness to the truth. It begins as a seemingly insignificant compromise for safety or comfort but gradually grows into a profound betrayal of one’s humanity and Christian calling. It is like a small crack in a dam: at first, it appears inconsequential, but over time, it leads to disaster and destruction. Such silence is not merely a personal choice of a pastor or church minister; it is a form of complicity in the triumph of evil through consciously refusing to resist it.

In the context of Russia’s full-scale war against Ukraine, this fundamental difference between the two types of silence manifests itself with particular acuteness. The price of each choice between them becomes a matter of life and death, both physical and spiritual. Each such choice to remain silent becomes either an act of preserving divine truth and human dignity in the face of unprovoked violence, robbery, rape, and destruction of a “fraternal” people or a step towards losing one’s moral essence in the guise of “defending traditional Christian values.”

Understanding the biblical paradigm of these two types of silence is not just a theoretical exercise. It is an important spiritual and ecclesiological tool, especially for institutionalized church structures, for navigating the moral challenges of Russia’s war against Ukraine. It also helps us recognize the true nature of our silence and its consequences, not only for us personally but also for the Church and the innocent victims of Russian aggression. Let us consider some examples from biblical stories.

The First Silence

Daniel’s silence reveals to us the power of quiet witness to divine truth at a time when the entire state imperial apparatus demanded a renunciation of prayer to God, except to the emperor. Daniel chose silent fidelity without public declarations or loud protests. His quiet prayer three times a day by an open window spoke louder than any of his words. He bore witness to God’s truth through his faithfulness to daily faith practices, even when it threatened his life. His silence in the lions’ den led the emperor himself to come and ask him if the God Daniel served could save him from the lions and the consequences of the emperor’s foolish “anti-missionary” laws.

The silence of the three youths in the fiery furnace demonstrates another facet: the refusal of dialogue, compromise, and “prayer breakfasts” with the system of violence on its terms. They did not enter into debates about the nature of idolatry, nor did they try to justify themselves or persuade others. Their brief reply, “Our God can save us… but even if He does not…” and their silent entry into the furnace reveal that sometimes any explanation or justification before the evil empire is already a compromise with untruth.

Christ’s silence before Pilate reveals to us the most profound dimension of silence as a witness to divine truth, as a refusal to legitimize an unjust trial by participating in it. Christ’s single, brief answer about the nature of truth only underscored the absurdity of attempting to judge Truth by a human court. Christ’s silence is a refusal to speak the language of untruth used by the chief priests, scribes, Pharisees, Pilate, and Herod. His silence exposed all the spiritual emptiness of power that tried to force Truth to speak its language of falsehood, slander, and hatred.

Job’s silence shows another aspect: the need for inner silence to comprehend the depth and essence of one’s suffering. Seven days of silence before beginning to speak is not just a sign of his grief but the time necessary to form a language capable of clothing the unspeakable in words. Amid his physical and mental sufferings, Job needed time for inner silence to find words worthy of the reality of his losses and pain.

This form of silence protects truth by refusing to speak the language of untruth. It is an act of spiritual resistance to evil by refusing to enter into dialogue on the terms of untruth. It manifests itself in the refusal to speak the language of Russian propaganda and hatred, even under pressure (I recall a publication on the website of the Russian Union of Evangelical Christians-Baptists about the “persecution” of Christians in Ukraine). It refuses to participate in false “dialogues about peace” that call for forgetting and legitimizing aggression and Russian cultural and theological imperialism. It refuses to simplify the tragedy of the suffering of the inhabitants of Ukraine to the level of everyday inconveniences of Russian liberals. It refuses to justify its inaction by the “complexity of the situation” (as many Slavic pastors in emigration, especially in the USA, have done).

This silence is an active resistance and refusal to participate in the distortion of reality, knowing the truth. By its refusal to speak the language of untruth, it bears witness to the truth. Such silence is not passivity but the highest form of activity of our spirit, which refuses to submit to the language of violence and lies of Russian propaganda. It also has and knows its time when it is necessary to remain silent and when to speak, similar to the rhythm of breathing, where it naturally alternates with moments of testimony.

The Second Silence

The second silence is the silence of the betrayal of those who see crimes but refuse to testify, who know the truth but choose “neutrality” and remain “outside of politics.” This silence is complicity in evil through a refusal to bear witness to the truth.

The silence of Christ’s disciples during His arrest is the silence of fear when fear is allowed to overcome knowledge of the truth. The disciples, who had recently “sworn” allegiance to Jesus unto death, suddenly fell silent and fled. Fear paralyzed not only their bodies but also their consciences. Many Russian pastors and theological educators refused to call aggression by its name. Fear forced them to hide behind euphemisms and evasive formulations, such as “the situation,” “the conflict in Ukraine,” or “everything is not so clear-cut.” They still avoid admitting the resurrection of the Truth because it would require them to act accordingly.

The silence of the high priest before Pilate is the silence of conscious self-interest. Caiaphas knew the truth about Christ’s innocence but remained silent for the sake of his comfort and security, for the sake of preserving his position and standing in the “religious-political” system. It is a “prototype” of institutional silence when church associations and their leaders, who are called to bear witness to God’s truth, nevertheless choose “diplomatic silence” for the sake of preserving their individual or organizational status or certain “informal” privileges. It is a conscious refusal to call evil by its name out of fear of losing security guarantees, influence, or connections.

Pilate’s silence (“What is truth?”) demonstrates the silence of conscious relativism and “diplomatic silence,” a kind of philosophical self-justification that uses the complexity of the situation as a pretext and explanation for moral passivity (in the style of the Russian liberal opposition). In essence, these are lengthy pseudo-intellectual reflections on “impartiality,” “complexity and ambiguity” of the situation, and “different perspectives” instead of a clear moral judgment about good and evil, which is evident and open.

The silence of the crowd that did not intercede for the innocent but began to shout “Crucify!” is the silence of collective responsibility and irresponsibility at the same time. Each individual, perhaps, in some way sympathized with Christ, but together, as institutionalized Christianity (union, association, local church), they consciously remained silent at the moment of moral truth. As a community, they refused to bear witness to the truth, hiding behind claims that “we are little people, nothing depends on us,” etc.

In the context of Russian aggression against Ukraine, this silence of betrayal manifests itself through the refusal to call Russian crimes by their proper names under the pretext of “impartiality,” through the concealment of the truth about violence under the guise of “maintaining calm,” through moral relativism that refuses to distinguish between the aggressor and the victim, and through the conscious church institutional and collective passivity under the cover of “neutrality,” which is justified by “powerlessness before evil.”

Such silence of the Russian Church leads to a profound moral and missional trauma to their faith and self-respect, creating an even more profound moral trauma in Russian society. This silence is their complicity in the existential evil of a genocidal war, not only through the refusal to resist it but also through tacit consent to distort the space of truth, where evil begins to present itself as a moral norm. Such sinful silence loses a sense of time and becomes a chronic state of the soul that refuses its prophetic function. This silence cannot answer “When?” because it has already lost the meaning and purpose of bearing witness to the truth – “Why?”

The second type of silence is also a process of gradual moral disarmament of Russian Christians (Ukrainian Christians also have their processes of moral disarmament, but this is a topic for another possible post and is not about God’s mandate to protect our country and people). At first, it is a refusal to speak about the truth “for rational reasons,” then it is a justification of one’s silence by the “complexity of the situation.” In the end, we, as a “Christian collective,” lose the ability to distinguish between good and evil. Conformism becomes not just an external aspect of behavior but an internally desired state of the soul.

It is hazardous how such silence-betrayal is masked as prudence and peacefulness. Phrases like “It’s not the time to talk about this,” “We need to be careful,” or “We shouldn’t exacerbate the situation” become a moral smokescreen behind which hides a refusal to bear witness to the truth. This silence is insidious in that it comes not through a direct denial of the truth but through its gradual erosion. It is a “critical line” not only for institutional forms of Christianity in Russia but also in Ukraine.

So What?

The Bible speaks of “a time to keep silence, and a time to speak” (Ecclesiastes 3:7). Our wisdom lies in discerning these times: when silence protects truth from profanation or hides truth from the world. The first silence is born of our spiritual strength and leads to the transformation of the Church; the second is born of our spiritual weakness and leads to the disintegration of our personality and spiritual death. But how can we distinguish these types of silence in personal and institutional church environments? First and foremost, it is important to discern their source.

The first silence is born from a place of encounter with God and awareness of His mission, which controls our fear and desire for comfort and security. It is the silence of the temple, filled with the presence of God, as in the stories of Daniel, the three youths, Job, and many other heroes of faith. The fruit of such silence is inner individual and communal transformation and the power to bear witness to the truth. Like a seed, such silence sprouts new life and forms a space for the maturation of our spiritual strength. It is filled with an inner cry to God, like the “mute cry” of the prophet Jonah from the belly of the whale.

The second silence is dictated by fear, indifference (for various reasons) to the victims of war, conformism, and security guarantees from people in power (who promise to protect “traditional Christian values”). Such silence leads to the disintegration of the personality and community because it is a betrayal of one’s essence in the eyes of God. The silence of betrayal is an inner emptiness, a “black hole” that gradually absorbs the light of moral consciousness and a person’s ability to distinguish between good and evil. This process can be compared to the gradual loss of vision in the dark: at first, a person stops distinguishing shades, then colors, and finally loses the ability to see the difference between light and darkness. In the same way, the silence of betrayal first dulls moral sensitivity, then blurs the boundaries between good and evil, and finally leads to complete moral blindness. It is like a desert or a cemetery – it indicates the absence of life and leads to the loss of participation in the Mission of God and spiritual death.

Christ’s call, “He who has ears to hear, let him hear,” establishes an inextricable link between the perception of truth and responsibility for it. When a person indeed hears and accepts the truth, they become a witness to it. Like one who has witnessed a crime, they can no longer pretend they have not seen anything. During the Russian aggression against Ukraine, Russian ministers and pastors must decide: are they ready to speak about the crimes of their authorities and army as a testimony to God’s truth? Or will they seek agreements with totalitarian or authoritarian authorities for temporary security guarantees in exchange for silence, adopting a “neutral” and “impartial” position for their individual, institutional, and organizational comfort?

Each act of silence, whether as a witness or betrayal, is part of a larger picture in our spiritual struggle. Just as each cell of our immune system defends our entire organism, our individual decision to remain silent or speak influences the spiritual state of our country’s entire Church and society. Jesus Christ reminds us, “He who is not with Me is against Me” (Matthew 12:30). In times of full-scale Russian war, moral neutrality is impossible – such silence of Russian Christians (and about specific phenomena, by Western and Ukrainian Christians as well) is a refusal to bear witness to the truth. It is not just passivity but becomes active complicity in untruth’s victory.

Silence can be a form of resistance, like the silence of a martyr under interrogation, or a form of collaboration, like the silence of a witness to a crime. Is it possible to preserve oneself by refusing to bear witness to the truth? Does not such a refusal become a form of slow spiritual suicide? These questions are not just an exercise in moral reflection. In the context of war, the price of silence is a matter of life and death, for which both the Church in Russia and the Church in the West and Ukraine are responsible, depending on the choice of the object of their silence.

* * *

Today, Russian, Ukrainian, and Global Churches face the challenge of silence. For the Russian Church, it is the silence of complicity in a genocidal war, where each day of silence multiplies the number of victims and legitimizes evil. For the Ukrainian Church, it is the temptation to keep silent about “certain” internal problems and “certain” moral compromises under cover of wartime when “patriotic rhetoric” becomes a convenient veil for avoiding painful questions of inner purification and renewal for the Mission of God. And what about the Global Church? In the context of armed conflicts worldwide, does it too often remain silent, avoiding uncomfortable truths about its role, responsibility, and the need for repentance and concrete action for peace and justice?

Each Church has its unique “list of silence” – topics that cause discomfort and are easier to avoid. However, God calls us to radical openness before Him and ourselves. The price of the second silence is always higher than it seems: it is measured not only by the loss of public trust in the Church today but also, more importantly, by the loss of the possibility of authentic witness to Christ for future generations. When the Church is silent about the truth for institutional or organizational comfort, it betrays not just its mission.. but Christ Himself… Peace be with you, and keep your children away from war…
—
Taras M. Dyatlik, Ukraine
1049th day of the full-scale Russian war and the full-scale institutional silence of Russian evangelical Christians