Patriarch Justinian: between resistance and “compromise”
Patriarch Justinian Marina: Compromise, Survival, Resistance
Terms such as “compromise,” “survival,” and “resistance” are often invoked in discussions about the Romanian Orthodox Church’s stance under the communist regime, yet none fully capture the complexity of the period. Each term, in isolation, cannot describe the nuanced relationship between the ecclesiastical institution, represented by Patriarch Justinian Marina, and the communist authorities.
Some of Justinian’s public gestures and apparent enthusiasm for the communist cause led opponents to brand him with the now-famous label of the “Red Patriarch.” Yet those familiar with his motives coined a different term: Justinianism. This denotes a strategy conceived by the Patriarch, whose genius lay in negotiation. At its core was a minimal objective: the survival of the Church. Whenever circumstances allowed, he sought to transform this goal into a program for developing the Church, improving its liturgical, cultural, social, and economic capacities. In pursuit of this aim, Justinian combined compromise and resistance in an original manner, conceding on matters deemed impossible or trivial while firmly defending points he considered vital. He carefully assessed the Church’s ability to withstand the regime, weighed its fundamental interests, and constructed a complex strategy that defies simplistic judgment.
“He is not a communist. He is a follower of Iuliu Maniu and has Anglophile sentiments.”
A text by Father Andrei Scrima, read on Radio Free Europe in 1977 upon Patriarch Justinian’s death, best captures the essence of his actions. Scrima posed two key questions: “What moral importance, what institutional weight could the head of a Church still have in a totalitarian state, where decisions were made in offices—rotted with intrigue and fear of anonymous political bodies? And even if a degree of freedom remained, often torn by daily disputes with the rulers of the time, was it not too overwhelming for his powers?”
Scrima focuses on the second question, building his discourse around the label “country priest” often applied to Justinian. As a 1944 memo by the Vâlcea Security Police notes, Ioan Marina (later Patriarch Justinian) “is known in all circles in Vâlcea as one of the most intelligent priests, who was even proposed as a candidate for the bishopric of Balți, but refused. He was a member of the National Farmers’ Party, active there. He is not a communist. He is a Manist (follower of Iuliu Maniu) and has Anglophile sentiments.”
Scrima transforms this label into a positive: Justinian’s pastoral beginnings in a rural parish shaped his understanding of the faith of the people. “Patriarch Justinian gathered from his work as a country priest the deep-rooted instinct of the faith of his people, and his character, his personal type, complemented and broadened his surprisingly fine insights into people, situations, problems. Those who truly knew him recognized his extraordinary ability to listen, assimilate, and—an essential quality for the leader of a great institution—remain silent when necessary. In dealings with the political authorities, the man and the patriarch were one, never renouncing his dignity.”
More skillful than the authorities of the atheist state
Patriarch Justinian, with a clear vision and without illusions, adopted a strategy that may have lacked grandeur but was highly effective. Publicly, he promoted coexistence and cooperation between Church and regime, calling for “trust” between political leaders and the Patriarch.
This trust allowed him to exercise authority over the Church with relative autonomy, limiting interference by the Department of Religious Affairs, preventing the formation of subversive groups, taking theological education under Church control, negotiating priestly salaries, and overseeing church construction and repair. At first glance, these actions might seem materialistic, and the regime may have thought so too. The authorities tolerated practices unimaginable in other communist countries, from public priestly vestments to clergy salaries, prioritizing appearances over genuine religious life.
Yet Justinian used this institutional autonomy to revive the spirit of faith. Scrima explains: “In the concrete circumstances of the Romanian Orthodox Church, the return to spiritual life meant a more active and conscious integration into the liturgical and sacramental rhythm of the Church. For the clergy, it was a call to priestly seriousness and human dignity. The suffering that God gives us out of love is creative. Today in Romania, there exists a great family of spirits, forming a network throughout the country, concerned solely with Christian life in and around them.”
This spiritual revival, fostered by Patriarch Justinian, drew the attention of the authorities. Religiosity did not wane; the Church flourished. In 1958, however, in a complex political context, the regime launched a devastating persecution against the Romanian Orthodox Church, targeting both the conscientious elites and the institutional structures built by Justinian. Only shifts in internal and external circumstances prevented the total dismantling of his transformative approach.
Nevertheless, Patriarch Justinian’s achievements remain significant. Scrima concludes with filial reverence: “No, Patriarch Justinian did not forget the high price of his service. He fulfilled it with simplicity and good faith. The eternal and living life of the Spirit returns to the depths of the faithful’s souls—from where also came the country priest, from father to son, Justinian Marina. Life fulfilled, life saved.”
(Prof. George Enache – Ziarul Lumina, electronic edition of 26 March 2017)