Meeting places in Moscow's churches
They are the "oratory bars", a new experience for Russian Orthodox. They replace the refectory of the poor. Very popular with young people who feel freer to communicate.
Moscow (AsiaNews) - For some time now the Orthodox Churches in the capital have been opening up meeting places to foster socialising in an innovative experience in the tradition of Eastern Christians. What in Catholic parishes is known as the classic "oratory bar" is becoming a new trend among orthodox faithful, who sit down to drink coffee and converse with the pastor of the parish and other priests.
Bach's music can be heard in the parish premises, recorded or performed by small orchestras. In church, they are forbidden: the Orthodox liturgy only allows singing without instrumental accompaniment. There is also the possibility of choosing a case for your smartphone, or T-shirts with themed images and inscriptions, or just relaxing and sitting down to work in peace.
More traditionalist parishioners are puzzled by the opening up to rather "worldly" uses, as Orthodox churches have always been only the place for solemn liturgy. To tell the truth, in the distant past, canteens to refresh the faithful were not uncommon, especially the poorest, who went to church even during the long winter frosts. In Soviet times, the table at the church of Novaja Derevnja, where Aleksandr Men, the "spiritual father" of dissent, was located, was very popular, and a large crowd of pilgrims came every day.
Gatherings of the faithful around churches were typical of many monasteries, but not of city parishes. In Mitino, on the outskirts of Moscow, the Church of the Exaltation of the Cross was one of the first to open a "čainaja" (tea room) in place of the refectory for the poor. As the parish priest, Fr Stakhij Kolotvin, who is very popular in Moscow (he has 24,000 followers on Instagram) tells us, "we built a simple little wooden house next to the church so that parishioners could communicate after services, and it quickly became a popular place". The little house was soon replaced by a large building, where, to the parish priest's amazement, crowds of people began to gather, most of them not even entering the church, mostly students and neighbourhood residents.
In the new church café there are no religious objects or symbols, coffee is prepared in all its variations and tea from the "samovar", the perennial kettle of the Russian countryside. Belarusian ice cream, Crimean wine and butter from Greece are sold. Family celebrations are held here, when the place is dedicated and served only to a group, but there is never a shortage of conversations with the priest: "People who are ashamed to come to church to ask questions can do so here in a less official atmosphere, and I also like being here without formality among the people," says Fr Stakhij.
Daria, a girl who attends the čainaja, tells Vedomosti that "we like to come here with our friends, it is good, there is a particularly peaceful atmosphere and the prices are also very democratic". The young woman explains that she was once able to talk to Fr Stakhij and ask him the questions that worry her. "We don't go to church, but we are Orthodox, because this is our culture, and we like to talk about it freely."
In other churches in Moscow, too, people queue up for a Capuchin rather than for Communion. Russian priests are discovering new ways of pastoral care, less aggressive and imposing, and especially in the time of the pandemic, a new way of communicating is emerging. In church, the prescriptions are less rigid than in other public places, and the approach is more familiar, attracting many people who were a little frightened by the long liturgies, and today by the constant prescriptions.
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