Canadian Ukrainians Pray for the Monarch

Since I don't have time for a full article this month, I would simply like to post this excerpt, as a follow-up to an earlier article on the Prayers for the Head of State. Much new material has come to light and, in future, I hope to rework this earlier article.

"... In particular, I observe that the abolition of the prayer for the Sovereign is not justifiable in the territory of this [Canadian] Ordinariate, where the King of England exercises sovereignty. The oriental rites admit the liturgical prayer for the supreme civil authority and therefore in Canada the Catholics of the Oriental Rite do not have a motive to make changes in this matter."

– Cardinal Eugène Tisserant to Bishop Vasyl Ladyka, 25 January 1939.

Prayers for the Head of State

In the Ukrainian Greek-Catholic Liturgical Tradition

Published in Ukrainian in Патріярхат (2016) no. 1 (453), p. 15–17.

Canada is a monarchy where the Monarch often goes unnoticed. In the United Kingdom, however, it is impossible not to notice the monarchy, for even in the churches, Roman Catholic, Greek Orthodox, Anglican and Protestants all pray for the Queen during their holy services. One exception appears to be the Ukrainian Greek-Catholic Church. Following the current translation in our liturgical books, we merely pray for “our nation under God, our civil authorities and all the armed forces.” In this article, I intend to provide a brief historical sketch about the prayers for the monarch in the Byzantine Divine Liturgy, and discuss why the Ukrainian Church altered them in the last century and what could be done with them in future.

The prayers for the nation and the civil authorities in current-day Ukrainian liturgical services are a modern rewording of the traditional prayers for the head of state, based on the injunction of the Apostle Paul in his First Letter to Timothy:

I exhort therefore, that first of all, supplications, prayers, intercessions and giving of thanks be made for all men [...] for kings, and for all that are in authority; that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and honesty. (2:14)

Even today, some of our faithful remember when the prayers for the sovereign were still being said in the Liturgy. Until about 1970, Ukrainian Catholic services were prayed in Church Slavonic, a book language (not a vernacular) used by various Slavic peoples in the liturgical services. In the liturgical books used at the turn of the twentieth century, the prayer in the Great Ektene read as follows (in translation):

For our most faithful and God-protected Emperor (Francis Joseph), for all his palaces and armies, that the Lord would aide him in all things, hasten to grant him all his desires and place under his feet every enemy and adversary.

This form was used by Western Ukrainians (then referred to as Ruthenians) in their Galician homeland, when it was part of Austria-Hungary and was ruled by the Habsburg emperor. Previously, when under Russia, the Ruthenians had prayed for the tsar, and when under Poland they had prayed for the king. The monarch was also mentioned in other prayers, such as in the Ambonal Prayer and in the troparion to the Holy Cross:

Save Your people, O God, and bless Your inheritance. Grant victory to Your most faithful Emperor over his enemies and protect Your people by Your Cross.

The prayer for the monarch in the anaphora contained (and still contains) a direct citation from First Timothy:

Remember our most faithful Emperor (Francis Joseph) and all his palaces and armies. Grant him, O Lord, a peaceful reign, so that by his tranquility, “we may lead quiet and peaceful lives in all godliness and purity.”

This prayer is itself a truncation of the older and much more beautiful form, full of quotations from the Old Testament books of Chronicles and the Psalms, found in the Liturgy of St. Basil:

Remember, O Lord, our most devout and faithful Emperor (Francis Joseph), whom you have set to rule on the earth. Crown him with a weapon of truth, a weapon of good will; let your shadow fall upon his head in the day of war; strengthen his arm, exalt his right-hand, establish his empire; subdue beneath him all barbarous nations that desire to make war; grant him deep and enduring peace; speak good things to his heart for your Church and for all your people; so that by his tranquility we may lead quiet and peaceful lives, in all piety and purity.

The reference to the barbarous nations reminds us that this prayer was first intended for the Roman (Byzantine) Emperor, whose duty it was to care for the earthly welfare of the Church. It is revealing (particularly in our day) to note that the monarch’s victory in battle was intended for the purpose of maintaining peace (Pax Romana) against those who fomented war.

The roots of the removal of references to the monarch in the Ukrainian Catholic Liturgy may be traced back to the political philosophies of national movements within multiethnic empires. These movements tended to be republican, since the fall of the ruling dynasties represented a vital step towards the political autonomy of the subject nations. So too, the Ukrainian movements were generally, though not exclusively, republican. Notable exceptions were found in Austrian Galicia, where Ruthenian notables envisioned the formation of an autonomous state within a confederation ruled by the Habsburg Monarch. Metropolitan Sheptytsky even proposed a plan for the creation of an (eastern) Ukrainian kingdom, ruled by a Habsburg prince. Also, in Eastern Ukraine, the monarchist Hetman regime was sustained by the German and Austrian Empires. However, the defeat and subsequent disintegration of the continental European monarchies, at the end of 1918, ended any practical hopes for any Ukrainian monarchy. At that point, Galician politicians and churchmen gave their full support to the creation of a Western Ukrainian Republic (1 November 1918), which brought about the first change to the prayer for the sovereign in the Greek-Catholic liturgies.

Further research is required to ascertain exactly when, in practice, the prayer for the emperor was changed. While still under Austrian rule, the Ukrainian Bishops Conference of 19 February 1918 censured demands by certain nationalists for the inclusion of a prayer for the president of the (eastern) Ukrainian Republic. Considering the pro-Habsburg sympathies of the hierarchy and general conservatism of the clergy, it is likely that some Greek-Catholic priests continued to say the prayer for their dethroned Emperor Karl, as found in the printed liturgical texts. Very quickly, though, if not immediately upon independence, the name of the monarch was replaced by the word nation: “o blahovirnim i bokhranymim narodi nashem / for our most faithful God-protected nation.”

This ostensibly auspicious, seamless textual substitution would not suffice after Eastern Galicia was annexed to the Polish Republic. The separatist feelings of the Ukrainian population induced the Polish Government to be all the more insistent that the Greek-Catholic clergy pray for the Polish head of state. What appears to be a compromise solution was achieved. An ambiguous addition to the prayer made it possible to pray for the nation (Ukrainian?) and the state without specifically mentioning Poland or its president. The new wording, which is still basically in use today, began to appear in printed prayer books: “For our most faithful and God-protected nation, the government and all the armed forces.” (later versions omitted the morally descriptive blahovirnyj [most faithful]). Ukrainians who had already emigrated to the Dominions of the British Empire continued to use the old text of the prayer, substituting the word emperor for king.

The first official change in the liturgical texts, in the twentieth century, occurred at the end of the 1920’s with the publication of Metropolitan Andrei Sheptytsky’s revised liturgikon (missal) and trebnyk (ritual). In these books, the prayer for the monarch was replaced by the prayer for the nation and government, which had been in in use within the Polish Republic. These new editions represented an attempt by Sheptytsky to remove the major Latinizations from the liturgical texts and rubrics. These new books, however, were generally rejected by the other Greek-Catholic bishops, who did not share Sheptytsky’s views on liturgical reform, and the old editions printed at the turn of the century remained in use outside of Sheptytsky’s Archeparchy of Lviv. Since the Ukrainian bishops could not agree on liturgical reform, they ceded responsibility for revising their liturgical books to the Apostolic See.

It was in the 1930’s, then, that a commission for the revision of the Slavonic liturgical texts was formed under the auspices of the Sacred Congregation for the Oriental Church (subsequently renamed the Congregation for the Oriental Churches). The brainchild of this project was a Frenchman turned Byzantine-rite priest, Cyrille Korolevskij. This eccentric scholar was a friend of several illustrious church leaders, including Metropolitan Sheptytsky, Cardinal Tisserant (the head of the Oriental Congregation), and Pope Pius XI himself, under whom Korolevskij had worked when the Pope (then Monsignor Achille Ratti) was prefect of the Vatican Library. The commission produced two sets of liturgical books, one for the Churches following the Ruthenian Edition, and the so-called Typical Edition for those following the Russian texts and rubrics. The first book in the series was the Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom, which was released in 1940, followed by the complete liturgikon the following year.

The Roman editions were given full approval, promulgated on the authority of the Roman Pontiff and made mandatory on all the Slavic Eastern Catholic Churches. However, despite the high quality of the research and redaction, these editions contained several controversial points. Among these was the large number of changes in the rubrics, which were restored to their sixteenth-century forms, mercilessly eliminating any Greek or Slavic accretions. In addition, some of the terminology used in the Ruthenian Edition appeared to betray the Russophile proclivities of both Korolevskij and Tisserant. For instance, in the Cherubic Hymn, the Ruthenian-slavonic pechal’ was replaced with the Russian variant popechennije (let us now lay aside all earthly cares). The greatest changes appeared in the 1947 trebnyk, with its completely restructured order of the celebration of the Sacraments. Notably, besides linguistic and ceremonial restoration, the Roman editions also restored the prayers for the monarch to their ancient form, introducing, however, the option of commemorating an emperor, a king or simply the civil authorities. Notably, the beautiful prayer in the anaphora of the Liturgy of St. Basil was retained, word for word.

The return to extremely conservative texts, in this instance, is interesting, especially since no Eastern Catholics were then living under the rule of a reigning emperor (perhaps there were some in Japan or India?). The inclusion of the emperor might represent the commission taking into account the possibility of a Habsburg restoration, which was much hoped for in certain European church and democratic circles of the period. On the other hand, it could simply be the result of Liturgical conservatism. Indeed, the prayer for the emperor was not removed from the Latin Rite liturgical books until the 1955 reform of the Holy Week.

Both the textual and rubrical alterations of the Roman Slavonic liturgical books made these editions difficult to accept for a significant number of the Latinized Ukrainian Catholic clergy. Foremost among the opponents of the new version was the Basilian Order of St. Josaphat, which defiantly reprinted and continued to use the old books. Despite efforts to enforce the use of the new books (even by canonical sanctions), in practice earlier editions continued to be used by many of the clergy, even well beyond the introduction of the vernacular editions. Even after the issuing of the Roman edition of the Slavonic arkhieratykon (pontifical) in 1973, some bishops continued to use the late-nineteenth-century Lviv edition well into the 1990’s; for example, Cardinal Lubachivsky. And even today, English translations of the Baptism and Marriage services not based on the Roman orders of service are widely used in Canada.

The decrees of the Second Vatican Council permitted the introduction of the Ukrainian vernacular into Ukrainian Catholic Church services (the Orthodox had introduced modern Ukrainian in 1917). At first, this was done piecemeal, especially through the printed of Liturgy books for the faithful. In 1968, the first all-Ukrainian liturgikon/sluzhebnyk was issued with the text of the Divine Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom. Faithful to the official Roman Slavonic edition, the vernacular sluzhebnyk did make some small alternations in the text, including the return to the Ruthenian term pechal’ in the Cherubic hymn (no modern vernacular equivalent was deemed acceptable) and to the prayer for the narod as in the 1920’s books, omitting the option to pray for a monarch. Following upon other vernacular versions of the Liturgy of St. Basil, the 1980 Ukrainian edition totally revised the ancient prayer for the emperor, truncating it and jettisoning the beautiful scriptural verses which had hitherto been applied to the sovereign.

Replacing the monarch in the liturgical texts posed certain problems. For example, the first translations of the troparia to the Cross replaced the person of the sovereign with the Church, creating a rather ultramontane image of the Church Militant:

Save Your people, O God, and bless Your inheritance. Grant victory to Your Church over its enemies and protect Your people by your Cross.

Subsequent Ukrainian editions of these troparia returned to praying for the narod, and English translations followed suit: “grant victory to Your people”. In the Chrysostom anaphora, nation replaced monarch but the phrase “Grant them, O Lord, a peaceful reign” (myrne tsarstvo) was retained but now applied to the nation, the government and the armed forces. Actually, reign and rule (or govern) are not the same thing. The Queen, for instance, reigns but does not rule; the government, on the other hand, can be said to rule but certainly does not reign. The official English translation, however, rendered-away the “offensive” term:

Remember, O Lord, our nation under God, our government and all the military. Grant them a peaceful government, so that in their tranquility, we may lead quiet and peaceful lives in all piety and dignity.

Another problem in replacing the head of state with the nation is that it can obscure the meaning of the prayer, as in Ukrainian versions of the Liturgy of St. Basil:

Remember, O Lord, our God-protected nation, the government and all the military. Grant them deep and enduring peace; incline their hearts with consideration for your Church and all your people; so that in their tranquility we may lead quiet and peaceful lives, in all piety and purity.

How can the nation incline its’ heart with consideration for the people who constitute it (except according to certain nation-worshiping philosophies)? Here, the restoration of the head of state, followed the by government and military, would solve the problem.

In the next part of the prayer, the Ukrainian editions have left untouched the sentence: “for our brothers in the palace”. However, English translations were changed to read: “for those in the service of our country”. Presumably, a presidential palace or parliament (the British Houses of Parliament are the Palace of Westminster) would be excluded by the original term, considered perhaps too reminiscent of the imperial and royal courts.

The partial rejection of the Ukrainian Synod’s 1988 liturgikon and 1991 arkhieratykon can be compared to the reluctant reception of the Roman editions, albeit for entirely different motivations: the synodal texts were rejected principally due to the patriarchal movement’s veneration for the texts issued by Cardinal Slipyj, and also because they had printed numerous prayer books using Slipyj’s translation, in which the term Major-Archbishop was substituted with Patriarch. With the founding of numerous printing presses in Ukraine, a host of unofficial, revised translations of the liturgical books have already appeared.

As the Ukrainian Greek-Catholic Synod prepares to re-issue standardized, official liturgical translations, the responsible commission needs to decide how to treat the prayer for the head of state. I suggest that it restores the older texts of prayers for the monarch, including however, as did the Roman editions, the option to pray for the head of state and civil authorities. Some of the reasons to do so would be:

The prayers for the emperor/king date back to the Roman/Byzantine Empire. The version in the Anaphora of St. Basil is in keeping with the rhetorical beauty of that Liturgy, which should not be cheapened by commonplace translations or redactions. After all, if we are looking for a shortened version, that’s what the Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom is all about.

The authority and responsibility to rule, whether in the temporal or spiritual realms, lies in the person who holds the office. This is the reason why we pray for the Pope and other members of the Chrurch hierarchy by name. The same was and should be true for earthly rulers, especially the head of state. Historical Ukrainian Orthodox liturgikons remembered princes, hetmans and other rulers of the past, in the prayer of the Great Entrance.

The Ukrainian Catholic faithful are present in many countries which have a monarch as their head of state, such as Australia, Belgium, Canada, Holland, Japan, many Middle-Eastern countries, the Scandinavian kingdoms, and the United Kingdom. Even when the country is a republic, it is appropriate to pray specifically and separately for the head of state, such as the President of the United States, of Italy, of Ukraine, or of Russia, who often play a delicate role, distinct from that of the government. The present-day Ukrainian political system provides a perfect example of this distinction. In the United States, the powers of the president are considerable and his person is held in great veneration, almost comparable with that of an elected monarch. Praying separately for the head of state (emperor/king/president), can also act as a counterbalance to exaggerated nationalism and nation-worship, a sentiment at least partially responsible for inserting narod in the post-1918 Ukrainian redactions.

The restoration of the head of state to these prayers, followed by the government and armed forces, would solve the various grammatical and conceptual problems outlined above.

Canadian Ukrainian pray for the Monarch

The Reluctant-to-Accept and the Reluctantly-Accepted Bishop

Count Andrei Roman Alexander Maria Sheptytsky

Published in Progress Ukrainian Catholic News, no.15/2144 (24 August 2008), pages 6, 10, and 11.

Of the many Ukrainian national and religious leaders of the twentieth century, a name stands out as representing a universal father-figure. His name was reviled during the Soviet period not only because of its Catholic overtones but also because it had become synonymous with the defense of the persecuted Ukrainian identity. This name is Andrei Sheptytsky, Metropolitan of Halych, Archbishop of Lviv, Bishop of Kamianets-Podilsk, Primate of the Ukrainian Greek-Catholic Church and extraordinary Apostolic Exarch for the Eastern-Catholic Church in Russia. Surprisingly, however, during the early days of his career, Sheptytsky was not regarded very positively by Ukrainians. This article reveals key events in the hitherto untold story of how a young Polish aristocrat became a Ukrainian monastic priest, reluctantly accepted the burden of the episcopacy and was reluctantly accepted by the political leaders of his flock as their spiritual father.

The future Kyr Andrei entered the world as Count Roman Alexander Maria Szeptycki (Polish spelling). His father’s lineage was an ancient Ruthenian (as Ukrainians were once called) noble line which had adopted the Latin Rite and become Polish. Roman was born in 1865 at Przylbice (Prybylchi) in the Kingdom of Galicia, a portion of Poland which had been partitioned to Austria in 1772. At the time of his birth, the Austrian empire was rife with political tensions between its component nationalities. The following year (1866) saw a crucial military defeat for Austria, which hastened a radical, internal state reform along national lines. A year later, in 1867, the emperor divided the government of his realms, creating the dual-monarchy of Austria-Hungary. Two additional consequences of this compromise were the granting of parliamentary ministerial government and the handing-over of political power in Galicia to the Polish aristocracy. These two decisions would come to have a major effect on the process of choosing future leaders for the Greek-Catholic Church.

Virtually all of the Ruthenian nobility had adopted the Latin Rite to secure a political and social position. This left the clergy as the nation’s leaders and foremost among them was the metropolitan of Halych, who had inherited the Greek-Catholic primacy when, in 1807, Pope Pius VII transferred it from Kyiv (under Russian domination) to Lviv. The metropolitan commanded great political authority among the Ruthenians and promoted a policy of absolute loyalty to the ruling Habsburg dynasty in exchange for political concessions. However, by the 1860’s, the Ruthenians were developing their own educated laity and political class. By handing political power to the Poles in 1867, Austria had dealt a severe blow to the authority of the Greek-Catholic hierarchy. Believing that their nation had been sacrificed by Austria, Ruthenian leaders began to look towards Russia for political and spiritual fulfillment. This movement became known as Russophilism and it represented a serious threat to Austrian rule and to the Catholic Church in Galicia.

In the 1880’s, the Apostolic See of Rome had also turned its gaze towards Russia. The Vatican shared Austria’s fear that this aggressive Orthodox empire (and its international arm of pan-slavism) would continue to severely persecute any Catholics who fell under its rule. Nonetheless, Pope Leo XIII took a positive approach to the issue by seeking to improve diplomatic relations with the Tsarist regime. This new openness accorded with the optimism that was being expressed by Russian thinkers such as Vladimir Solovëv, who began to look positively towards Rome as the centre of Christian unity.

Pope Leo’s vision was far from Austrian political concerns. In Galicia, spiritual Russophilism within the Greek-Catholic Church seeped over into political Russophilism in Ruthenian society. The Austrian government admonished the Greek-Catholic hierarchy to curtail the movement, but throughout the 1870’s Russophile clergy succeeded in occupying the chief administrative posts of the eparchial consistories. In the early 1880’s, certain radical Russophile leaders openly declared their Russian sympathies and one parish even attempted to break with the Catholic Church (hitherto, there had not been a single Orthodox church in Galicia). The Austrian government reacted by sentencing the ringleaders and calling for the removal of Metropolitan Josyf Sembratovych, together with leading clergy. After years of delaying, it also agreed to subdivide the enormous archeparchy of Lviv by creating a second eparchy of Stanislaviv. In doing so, it hoped to lessen the authority of the Russophiles who held sway in Lviv. As a final measure, Austria sanctioned the Galician Jesuits reform of the Basilian Order, the only Ruthenian religious order then in existence.

There remained the problem of a shortage of acceptable episcopal candidates. The government was looking for bishops who would be both loyal and capable administrators. For the sake of the public peace, it sought candidates who would be acceptable to the Ruthenians and, at the same time, not antagonistic towards the Poles. The Apostolic See, meanwhile, was looking for zealous reformers who would not only decrease the influence of Russophilism but also strengthen the Church’s bonds with Rome. Looking beyond the backwater of Austrian-Galicia, Rome viewed the Ruthenian Church as an ideal base from which to spearhead a mission to Russia and the Orthodox world.

One of the major limitations concerning candidates was the lack of unmarried Ruthenian clergy. From the Union of Brest (1596) until the end of the eighteenth century, only Basilian monks were eligible to become Uniate bishops. While Austrian reforms generally strengthened clerical and educational institutions, they weakened monastic communities, thus leading to in a period of decadence among the Basilians which resulted in a lack of suitable candidates from their ranks. However, by the 1870’s, choosing Basilian bishops was again becoming a necessity, for Rome began rejecting all widowers, further narrowing the list of eligible secular priests. In 1891, the Greek-Catholic Synod of Lviv followed up by incorporating the exclusion of widowers into its own particular church law.

Enter Roman Sheptytsky who, socially speaking, had the world at his feet but having been brought-up in a very pious familial setting, it is not surprising that he gravitated toward a religious vocation. In this decision, he was much influenced by one of his mother’s spiritual advisors, Father Henryk Jackowski, Provincial of the Galician Jesuits. Jackowski also happened to be a protagonist in Pope Leo’s plan for the Greek-Catholic Church in Russia and the Basilian reform. Accordingly, the young count decided take part in Jackowski’s project-in-the making and join the Ruthenian Basilians, even though he had been brought up in the Latin Rite. His family initially expressed opposition but later acquiesced when they became convinced, with Jackowski’s help no doubt, that the new Basilians were destined to be of better spiritual calibre than the Greek-Catholic secular clergy.

Entering the Basilians in 1888, Sheptytsky took the monastic name of Andrei. Quite independent of his superior upbringing, the young monk’s spiritual and intellectual qualities were quickly noticed by his superiors. Ever watchful of his progress, Jackowski continued to entrust Father Andrei with key positions in the reformed order. Soon after his priestly ordination, in 1892, Sheptytsky was the first reformed Basilian to be appointed to the crucially important position of novice master. Four years later, he became the first reformed superior of St. Onufri monastery in Galicia’s capital city of Lviv. By all accounts, the young levite was entirely focused on the religious life, free of any desire for greater leadership outside of his religious community.

Such a naturally and spiritually gifted individual could not go unnoticed by religious and civil authorities, especially in view of the lack of celibate episcopal candidates. Besides his personal qualities, Father Sheptytsky fulfilled all Rome’s prerequisites: not only was he unmarried but he was prayerful, zealous and a convinced follower of Pope Leo XIII’s policy of respect for the traditions of the Eastern Churches and openness to Russia. In addition, he was not antagonistic to either the Latin Church or Polish society, in which he had been educated. Such qualities endeared him to a fellow Polish nobleman who was the head of the Vatican department in charge both of worldwide missions and also the Eastern Catholics. This man was Cardinal Mieczyzlaw Ledóchowski, Prefect of the Sacred Congregation de Propaganda Fide.

1. Candidate for Przemysl, Lviv and Stanislaviv

Archival sources show that, only four years following his priestly ordination, in 1896, Sheptytsky was already being considered to replace the recently deceased bishop of Przemysl (Peremyshl). This nomination was premature and his Jesuit superiors begged Cardinal Ledóchowski to pass over the candidacy for the time-being, considering the vital role this young monk was playing in the delicate beginnings of the Basilian reform. In the end, the primate, Cardinal Sylvester Sembratovych (nephew of ex-metropolitan Josyf) proposed Canon Konstantyn Chekhovych, having omitted to mention that he was a widower. Two years later, Sembratovych himself was on his deathbed and asked for a coadjutor-bishop, again presenting one of his widower canons. This time in the know, Propaganda Fide replied that it was impossible to exempt from the laws of the Synod of Lviv (which they had worked for so many years to achieve). In the meantime, Cardinal Sylvester died before being able to present an alternative candidate.

Obtaining a successor was not a simple matter for the nomination process had become very complicated. First of all, since the Union of Brest, the Greek-Catholic primate held the privilege of nominating his suffragen bishops, not by right but in the name of the Apostolic See. The metropolitans of Halych partly inherited this privilege by being able to present three candidates to be vetted by Propaganda Fide and the papal secretariat of state. However, the Holy Roman (Austrian from 1804) emperor also held the personal privilege of presenting episcopal candidates within his realms. With the introduction of ministerial government, candidates had also to be approved by the foreign ministry and the ministry of religion. In Galicia, the local viceroy also had to be consulted. The Apostolic See was not happy with government intrusion and the nuncio reminded the emperor that the privilege of presentation was accorded to him alone, not to his ministers. In addition, the liberal ministries of the 1870’s sought confrontation with the Vatican, initiating an ever-growing conflict over episcopal appointments. This situation made it exceedingly difficult to find a candidate who was simultaneously acceptable to the Apostolic See, to Ruthenians, Poles and to all levels of government.

By 1897, Father Andrei Sheptytsky was the favoured candidate in both Vienna and Rome but not in Galicia. Ruthenian political leaders were extremely wary of Polish manipulation of their most important national institution, their Church. They had reacted strongly against the Jesuit reform of the Basilians and had been further alienated by Cardinal Sembratovych’s attempts at détente with the Polish Galician rulers (known as the New Era). The Ruthenian press had predicted that Sheptytsky’s entry into the Basilians was an attempt by the Poles to control their church from the inside. Sembratovych himself had explicitly excluded the young Basilian as his successor but for just the opposite reason; he feared that Sheptytsky would show inordinate zeal on behalf of the Ruthenians, thus upsetting the political balance that he had worked to establish.

With the cardinal primate’s death, the responsibility for the nomination passed to Emperor Franz Josef, a devout Catholic who attempted to mitigate conflicts with the Church. Already at the end of the previous year, His Imperial and Royal Apostolic Majesty had heard favorable reports of Sheptytsky, no doubt from his Polish-Galician ministers (although Sheptytsky’s biographer, Cyrile Korolevskij, erroneously assumed that “his name was not known in Vienna”), and promised the nuncio that he would favour the candidacy. But when the nuncio suggested Sheptytsky to the government, Galician leaders once again urged caution. This time it was the viceroy, Count Leon Pininski, who repeated the same objections as the late Cardinal Sembratovych. He also suggested that, at thirty-three, two years shy of the canonical age, Sheptytsky was too young and inexperienced to become metropolitan-archbishop directly. Pininski proposed that the older and more experienced Bishop Chekhovych be transferred to Lviv and that Sheptytsky be made bishop of Przemysl. Propaganda Fide rejected the proposal outright for two reasons: firstly, Chekhovych was a widower, a state that was unsuitable for Greek-Catholic primate; secondly, Chekovych was held to be weak, and the Holy See reminded the government about the problems created by the last metropolitan who had been soft on Russophilism. In any case, Cardinal Ledóchowski had always favoured Sheptytsky and he continued to press for his candidacy.

The government then proposed promoting the aged Bishop Julian Sas-Kuilovsky of Stanislaviv and assigning him a Basilian auxiliary-bishop, who would begin to combat Russophilism by assuming the direction of the Lviv seminary. Sheptytsky was then to replace Kuilovsky in the small Stanislaviv diocese, in order to gain experience. This plan was acceptable to all concerned except Father Andrei, who had no such ambitions. He had already refused the nomination to Przemysl, two years previously, and was uncomfortable with the pressure that the government was exerting. In a desperate attempt to resist, Sheptytsky wrote three letters to the Apostolic See refusing the episcopacy, claiming that he was “unworthy” of the honor. The Jesuits, however, had grafted two special vows onto the Basilian constitutions: the first to spurn promotions and the second of particular obedience and submission to the Roman Pontiff. With the second vow in view, Sheptytsky had to include the proviso that he would only accept if ordered to by the Pope and such was indeed the will of Leo XIII and his minister, Cardinal Ledóchowski, who had been cherishing such hopes for several years. Sheptytsky’s refusal had also been prompted by his apprehension of the desperate moral state of Stanislaviv’s population, especially the clergy, imbued with Russophile tendencies. Thus, he made his acceptance of the imperial nomination conditional upon the government fulfilling its long-delayed promise of constructing a seminary for that diocese.

Having received the go-ahead from the nunciature, on 1 February 1899, Emperor Franz Josef simultaneously presented the names of Bishop Julian of the knights Sas-Kuilovsky and Andrei Count Sheptytsky to Pope Leo XIII, who announced their promotions in the consistory assembly of 19 June. Sheptytsky was ordained bishop in Lviv, on 17 September, by Metropolitan Kuilovsky, assisted by Bishop Chekhovych and Bishop Weber, the Latin-Rite auxiliary of Lviv. The following day, he was enthroned as bishop of Stanislaviv. The new Bishop immediately began a dynamic spiritual, moral and educational reform of his diocese. Not two months later, the apostolic nuncio was already praising his “rare qualities”, noting that “with prudence and caution, he has began to manifest an exceptional zeal in the government of his Diocese, where there is an extreme need to summon the clergy to a more disciplined life, which conforms to the priestly state.” Bishop Andrei’s “firm resolve” combined with his profound spirituality and warm attitude towards both clergy and laity won the hearts of the flock. Even hitherto skeptical Ruthenian-Ukrainian nationalists leaders somewhat changed their opinion of Sheptytsky from wariness to praise for his dedication to the people.

2. Nomination as Metropolitan-Archbishop

Like all Greek-Catholic episcopal nominations since the 1870’s, the 1899 nominations amounted to what had become the standard compromise between various interest groups of church and state. In addition, just before his formal nomination, Bishop Kuilovsky rejected Basilian Father Platonides Filas as his designated auxiliary-bishop and seminary rector. It was understood that the elderly bishop could not manage the large archdiocese alone and the government contemplated leaving aside Kuilovsky’s nomination altogether. At this point, Cardinal Ledóchowski made one last effort to propose Andrei Sheptytsky as metropolitan. However, since the emperor had already signed the presentation, Rome decided to go ahead, in the hope that the new metropolitan would accept Filas in time. It did not have long to wait for a solution to present itself because the infirm Kuilovsky died less than a year later, on 4 May 1900.

Now the path seemed to be cleared for the favoured candidate, Sheptytsky, who had gained experience and popularity in the eyes of his flock and of church and state leaders. The apostolic nuncio, Archbishop Emidio Taljani, stated that, “despite his youth, he possesses all the requisite qualities to become an excellent archbishop.” However, even this second nomination would not go as smoothly as planned. Papal secretary of state Cardinal Rampolla informed the nuncio of the Pope’s will that Sheptytsky accept the promotion to Lviv and that Father Filas replace him as bishop of Stanislaviv. This proposal appeared to acceptable to all when Sheptytsky traveled to Vienna to perform the bureaucratic procedures. There he was presented with a new condition by the government, which he and the nuncio both deemed unacceptable; a condition which had its root in the very foundation of the Stanislaviv eparchy.

In the eighteenth century, Austria took over the financial administration of the Church and established a Religion Fund to pay salaries and expenses. It had promised to found a third Greek-Catholic eparchy as far back as the 1780’s but continued to procrastinate. Finally, during the height of the Russophile scare, the government agreed to create the Stanislaviv eparchy but could not come to a final agreement as to how it would be funded. In relinquishing his office in 1882, ex-Metropolitan Josyf Sembratovych had been granted a pension by the Lviv Archeparchy. Upon his death, instead of returning the revenue to Lviv, the government planned to use part of it to fund Stanislaviv, thus exonerating itself of having to use the Religion Fund. Sheptytsky stood firm on refusing the nomination under such conditions, and submitted a clever counter-proposal containing the proviso that any decision on the Lviv revenues be subject to the approval of the Apostolic See.

Rome, however, chose not to challenge Austria on a financial issue, in view of the fact that negotiations for new bishops were becoming ever more difficult. The nuncio assured Cardinal Rampolla that, since the government was willing to defer financial negotiations, the emperor was ready to sign the nomination. It was precisely during this period of intense negotiation that Bishop Sheptytsky led a group of pilgrims to Rome to celebrate the Jubilee Year. There he met with Cardinal Rampolla, who instructed him to accept the nomination and to forward a report on the issue for a future decision by the Apostolic See. In an audience of 29 October 1900, two days before the emperor had signed his letter of presentation, Pope Leo XIII announced to the pilgrims that their bishop was to become the new metropolitan. The following 5 November, the Viennese nuncio was instructed to initiate the canonical process of collecting testimonies from three well-known priests, which was performed on 12 November.

As if the saga had not been complicated enough, Sheptytsky sent a letter to the nuncio on 11 December, placing the decision regarding the finances in the hands of the Pope. In the same missive, however, he resolutely declared that he was not willing to endure any further government pressure and, if necessary, was ready to renounce the episcopacy to return to the monastic life. Sheptytsky’s inflexibility can be further understood in the light of the fact that he had invested personal funds in Stanislaviv, expecting the government to fulfill its promise to fund a seminary on condition that he accept the episcopacy. As a result, the bishop was left financially destitute but his persistence succeeded in convincing the government to reduce some of its claims. Andrei Sheptytsky’s nomination as Greek-Catholic archbishop of Lviv was finally proclaimed at the papal consistory of 17 December 1900 and he was enthroned as metropolitan of Halych on 12 January 1901. Having agreed to Sheptytsky’s promotion, the government nonetheless suspended the nomination of his successor in Stanislaviv for another three years, until the financial issues could be resolved.

Already in the first months of office, the new Metropolitan surprised everyone by unequivocally supporting the national and political demands of his flock, just as Cardinal Sembratovych had predicted. Despite this fact, the Ukrainian national movement continued to be wary of the Polish aristocrat, whom they suspected of being a traitor in disguise. While Sheptytsky supported every honorable Ukrainian aspiration, he continued to be misunderstood by both Ukrainian and Polish nationalists. Many of them held anticlerical or even agnostic views, having been educated in Austrian legalist philosophy which looked upon the Church as an earthly instrument of the nation. With much prejudice and little foresight, Ukrainian notables continued to passionately oppose Basilian episcopal candidates, such as Platonid Filas and Josaphat Kotsylovsky, men who were to become defenders of the national identity and even protagonists in the formation of the short-lived Western Ukrainian state. While recognizing these faults, instead of withdrawing from the political forum “into the sacristy”, Sheptytsky challenged the intelligentsia and attempted to bring the teaching of Christ to the national movement. He also emasculated the Russophile movement by inaugurating a ritualist revival that was both faithful to his Church’s Kyivan roots and also to the unity of the Universal Church. It might be said that, in some respects, he beat the ritualist and political ideologues at their own game.

With the blessing of Leo XIII’s successor, Pope Pius X, Kyr Andrei also began a secret mission to establish an authentically Russian Eastern-Catholic Church. Remarkably, not only the Tsarist government but so too the fledgling Ukrainian government objected to this mission, both for nationalistic reasons.

Metropolitan Andrei’s breakthrough with the Ukrainian national movement finally came after he had been imprisoned. The Russians imprisoned him in Siberia, in 1914, because he was a danger to their plan to Russianize the Galician Ukrainians and to make them break their ecclesial unity with the Roman Pontiff. The Polish army confined him in his own archiepiscopal palace, in 1919, after they had captured Lviv from Ukrainian forces. The Polish Government tried everything to have Sheptytsky removed as Greek-Catholic archbishop of Lviv because he was an obstacle to their plan to Polonize the Ukrainians. Having failed to achieve their designs, when Sheptytsky attempted to return to his diocese from abroad in 1923, as the Pope has specifically commanded him, the Polish Government ordered that he be interned in Poznan, in an attempt to extract from him an unconditional oath of political loyalty. Notwithstanding Sheptytsky’s consistent resistance to government intrusion in Church affairs, he outlasted each one of the regimes that persecuted him. At the time, these regimes appeared to represent the greatest danger but Kyr Andrei understood that the moral condition of the individual human beings that constitute the nation had an infinitely greater and lasting significance. Throughout his episcopal ministry, Andrei Sheptytsky retained the “firm resolve” that had been credited him by the papal representative in 1899. In exile, former political leaders lost any effective voice in the homeland. The Metropolitan never fled persecution however, and he remained to comfort his people in their plight and was finally recognized by the nation a great hero and a moral figurehead. Most significantly, he remained a living martyrios, a witness to his people of Catholic unity and fidelity (not merely in theory but also in practice) to his spiritual Father, the Roman Pontiff, Successor of Blessed Peter the Apostle.