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MODERNITY, MEMORY AND
IDENTITY IN SOUTH-EAST EUROPE
The Orthodox Church and

National Identity in Post-
Communist Romania
Adrian Velicu
Modernity, Memory and Identity
in South-East Europe
Series Editor
Catharina Raudvere
Department of Cross-Cultural and Regional Studies
University of Copenhagen
Copenhagen, Denmark
This series explores the relationship between the modern history and
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This approach aspires to offer a more nuanced understanding of the
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representation and cultural expressions in light of the huge pressures
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Adrian Velicu
The Orthodox
Church and National
Identity in
Post-Communist
Romania
Adrian Velicu
University of Copenhagen
Copenhagen S, Denmark
ISSN 2523-7985 ISSN 2523-7993 (electronic)

Modernity, Memory and Identity in South-East Europe
ISBN 978-3-030-48426-2 ISBN 978-3-030-48427-9 (eBook)
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-48427-9
© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer
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Acknowledgements
I would like to thank Professor Catharina Raduvere of the University of

Copenhagen for encouraging me to embark on this project. Professor
Raudvere has provided helpful comments on the text as have a number of
anonymous readers at various stages of the work. I have benefited from
Marie-Louise Karttunen’s numerous suggestions for stylistic improve-
ments. I would also like to thank Christine Pardue for editorial support
at Palgrave Macmillan. Thanks are due to the staff of the Library of the
Romanian Academy, the Romanian National Library, the Library of the
Holy Synod in Bucharest and the British Library. I am grateful for access
to the electronic resources of the University of Copenhagen Library.
This work has been produced within the framework of the University
of Copenhagen research centre Many Roads in Modernity, generously
funded by the Carlsberg Foundation.
v
Contents
1 Introductory Matters 1
2 A Resurgent Church 39
3 A Rampant Church 75
4 Secular Counterpoint105
5 Undercurrents of Identity Discourse137
6 In Search of a Conclusion161
Index167
vii
CHAPTER 1
Introductory Matters
On 15 January 2016, the patriarch of the Romanian Orthodox Church

addressed the members of the Romanian Academy. The occasion was
National Culture Day; the theme that year was national identity. Patriarch
Daniel, an honorary member of the Academy, highlighted the Christian
Orthodox contribution to the Romanian national identity as one of the
two chief components of a synthesis, the other being the Latin origin of
the Romanian language with its presumed ethnic and cultural legacy. The
speaker reminded his audience that this identity has emerged as a synthesis
between East and West, between an Orthodox view of spiritual mystery
and Latin intellectual clarity, as the theologian Dumitru Stǎniloae has
put it, an idea quoted approvingly in the speech (http://patriarhia.ro/
ziua-culturii-nationale-la-academia-romana-8558.html; Stǎniloae 2014,
pp. 112–114). By way of summing up, this pithy allocution quoted
Patriarch Bartholomew of Constantinople’s admiration for the fact that
the Romanian people has preserved its Orthodox faith and Latin-based
language.
The nature of the speech and the occasion are significant for the present
enquiry. The head of the Orthodox Church, the largest religious institu-
tion in Romania, addresses the members of the principal learned body
in the land and reinforces his conclusion by resorting to the authority of
the oldest Christian institution, the Patriarchate of Constantinople.
Within this institutional framework, the address invokes complex
© The Author(s) 2020 1

A. Velicu, The Orthodox Church and National Identity in Post-Communist
Romania, Modernity, Memory and Identity in South-East Europe,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-48427-9_1
2 A. VELICU
notions—identity, culture, nation—without necessarily attempting to

convince the audience through prolonged arguments, confident that a
shared cultural memory would bring together religious and secular views
on the subject.
Before the collapse of the communist regime in Romania in December
1989, the closest the previous patriarch came to addressing a public insti-
tution was to send an official telegram to Nicolae Ceaușescu, the leader of
the Communist Party, congratulating him on being re-elected as First
Secretary at the 14th Congress of the Party. Prior to the political reversal
of 1989, the patriarch refrained from enlightening the Party Leader on the
place of Orthodoxy within the identity of the Romanian people; after the
political reversal, however, the higher clergy could freely expound on the
matter. Lack of censorship, a visible place in public life and increased
resources ensured that, after the collapse of the communist dictatorship,
the Orthodox Church could assert itself anew, both institutionally and
intellectually. This revival stimulated a return to a view of national identity
based on the Latin legacy and Orthodox Christianity, resurrecting ideas
articulated before the communist takeover in the late 1940s.
Such ideas are to be found in works on the concept of Romanian
national identity published throughout the twentieth century, which are
referenced in the footnotes of the patriarch’s address (included in the
published text); clearly, the prelate’s survey indicates the relevance of an
intellectual historical approach. Most of these writers are lay scholars
willing to admit the importance of Christian Orthodoxy—or at least a
spiritual dimension derived thereof—to the national identity. Moreover,
by tracing the ideas of these sociologists, historians, philosophers and
literary critics, which were relevant to the occasion, it appears that the
patriarch is willing to consider the concepts of identity and culture in an
interdisciplinary context that stretches beyond the theological framework.
Thus, the post-1989 revival of the institution as well as its resumption of
a strand of thought featuring identity and Orthodoxy have occasioned a
series of arguments and counter-arguments in need of exploration. The
dynamics of these currents, cross-currents and, indeed, undercurrents of
opinion lend themselves to an approach derived from intellectual history.
This is the kind of enquiry undertaken in the present work.
1 INTRODUCTORY MATTERS 3
Preliminary Clarifications
Two decades after the collapse of communism, scholars have pointed out
that the “intellectual history of post-socialism” has dealt mainly with the
“transnational level,” leading to a “discrepancy” and risking “misunder-
standing” between scholars examining international and local contexts
(Kopeček and Wciślik 2010, pp. 14–15). The present investigation con-
tributes to remedying this state of affairs, as one of its main aims is to
examine how an institution such as the Romanian Orthodox Church,
given free rein after the collapse of Communism, has developed and
employed a discourse of national identity. Such a discourse points to ways
in which a religious institution may adapt to the accelerated type of moder-
nity unleashed in former Eastern European dictatorships. Hence, the
study also considers a secular counter-discourse regarding the Church’s
specific claims about national identity, which offers a complementary per-
spective. The concept of identity appears in combinations where other
concepts such as culture or nation are also present. As various parties—
clergymen, historians, philosophers, public intellectuals, journalists, politi-
cians—reflect on such conceptual constellations, they seek suitable notions
to serve as evidence to justify particular interests or reinforce particular
views. The focus is on the selective use of past arguments, current con-
cepts and tropes in the fluid post-communist Romanian context, which,
taken together, amount to an intellectual landscape in need of scrutiny.
More specifically, the analysis in this book considers three claims: what
the authors say that they know about Romanian cultural identity; what
they claim that it actually is; and the course of action that ought to be
pursued in consequence. This approach alludes to the three general fields
of philosophy—epistemology, ontology and ethics—without necessarily
turning the work into a philosophical treatise. The categorization, how-
ever, provides a supplementary tool that brings order, when needed, to a
multitude of opinions that appear either awkwardly disparate or superfi-
cially similar. In so far as the Orthodox Church insists on presenting itself
as a component and force within the Romanian cultural and national iden-
tity, the same kind of scrutiny applies to the institution: what does the
Church claim that the world should know about it, what does the Church
claim that it is and, still as part of its self-narrative, how does the Church
reflect on its present and past actions, including those during the
Communist dictatorship?
4 A. VELICU
A range of public utterances by the Church provides one category of

sources. These are sermons and pastorals by representative clerical figures,
speeches and keynote addresses delivered by clerical spokesmen on lay
occasions (e.g., the talk given by the patriarch at the Romanian Academy
on Culture Day), published or broadcast interviews with the higher clergy,
and editorials and other opinion pieces in religious periodicals. The idea is
to look at the Church’s discourse as it is articulated in the public sphere
for a general audience rather than specialized disquisitions for internal use.
A second category of sources includes ideas and arguments formulated by
writers and scholars. Occasionally, some of these secular arguments are
part of a dialogue with one another or with the clergy, but even when they
are not, they establish the presence of concepts that add to contemporary
intellectual life.
References to the background of the notions employed by both reli-
gious and secular authors require both brief historical surveys as well as
definitions. Some of these notions are contested, while on others there is
a relative consensus. Without attempting strict definitions, this enquiry
supplies conceptual clarifications as and when needed while scrutinizing
the sources. Therefore, more extended discussions of these concepts occur
below in specific contexts. Where relevant, the analysis treats the source
material in terms of institutional identity and institutional memory, aspects
that are considered here as part of collective memory.
A further way to treat the material is by observing the place of key con-
cepts in the arguments. One example is the use of Orthodoxy. The posi-
tion that the clergy grant to this concept as part of a concluding remark or
as part of a premise, or by alternating its use according to need, may offer
an insight into the thrust of the Church’s argument.
An additional consideration has to do with the varied background of
the authors, particularly secular authors, which makes it relevant to take
into account the field of knowledge within which they develop their argu-
ment. For instance, one historian employs the notion of cultural identity
in an epistemological sense, as a way of straining towards self-knowledge
(Zub 2004, pp. 19–20, 23–24), while a theologian, placing the notion in
an Orthodox framework, grants it an ontological value (Stǎniloae in
Vestitorul Ortodoxiei August 1992). This manner of examining the mate-
rial shows the extent to which these are contested concepts whose fluidity
allows their usage for ad-hoc purposes.
It should be emphasized that an undertaking in contemporary (but not
only) intellectual history relies on arguments articulated in the public
domain. The dynamics of intellectual exchanges, the circulation of ideas

and, above all, the use of concepts can only occur when these are known
to a sufficiently large audience. Unpublished archival material or ideas
communicated in interviews to one scholar may well be valuable for other
studies, but not here.
One qualification on the handling of sources: my analysis is not con-
cerned with what Romanian national identity really is, if such certainty can
or need be established. Rather the discussion seeks to discover how reli-
gious and lay thinkers use the idea of cultural identity. The enquiry attempts
to make sense of the dynamics of such action by pursuing the deployment
of the ideas in arguments on identity, some of which contain evidence that
may well be questioned. This work is not the place to verify the factual
accuracy of the various claims such as date of the arrival of Christianity in
the area later known as Romania, the age of the Romanian Orthodox
Church as an institution (there are frequent references to the 2000-year-
old tradition of the Romanian Orthodox Church) or the assertion that the
Latin legacy embedded in the Romanian langue entails intellectual lucidity.
This manner of treating the material rests on a number of general
assumptions to do with the study of contemporary intellectual history.
The name of this field may sound disconcerting; however, for at least one
prominent intellectual historian, combining contemporary history and
intellectual history poses little difficulty (Müller 2011, p. 576). Müller
takes his cue from the German Hans Rothfels—writing after an earlier
decisive turning point, post-1945 Germany—who considered that con-
temporary history arises when there is a need for understanding political
and social upheavals, a kind of “crisis history.” Based on this, Müller enters
a “plea for a contemporary intellectual history that seeks novel ways of
understanding the twentieth-century and the newest history since 1989
by combining tools from the workshops in Cambridge and Bielefeld (that
is, the home of Begriffsgeschichte)” (Müller 2011, p. 576; see also p. 586). For
Cambridge and Bielefeld read Quentin Skinner and Reinhart Koselleck,
both noted intellectual historians. In so far as contemporary intellectual
history amounts to “crisis history,” as Rothfels and Müller suggest, and in
so far as this kind of history entails coming to terms with the past, a scru-
tiny of the views of the post-communist Romanian Orthodox Church on
identity would qualify as a relevant case. The Church’s implicit or explicit
coming to terms with its recent past under the communist dictatorship has
impinged on its present arguments on identity. Indeed, its discourse on
6 A. VELICU
this and other matters may well include ways of also coming to terms with
the future in a world that may or may not become increasingly secular.
The attempt of the present study to understand “the newest history
since 1989” by examining one strand of thought—the Romanian
Orthodox Church’s discourse on identity—resorts to a combination of
tools as suggested by Müller. Acknowledging his call for contemporary
intellectual history to shed new light on its object and Kopeček’s and
Wciślik’s suggested need for a local “intellectual history of post-socialism,”
this investigation draws on Reinhart Koselleck’s and Quentin Skinner’s
insights (Skinner 2002; Koselleck [1985] 2004). The nature of the source
material—the Church’s discourse on national identity as a way of re-
asserting itself at a time of accelerated change—appears to lend itself to
treatment by means of selected aspects from the two intellectual histori-
ans’ approach. This study, therefore, combines Skinner’s view of the illo-
cutionary force of a speech act that not only says but also does something
with Koselleck’s views on the temporalization of history and time layers
with different paces of change, amounting to the co-occurrence of ele-
ments that belong to different periods. A brief presentation of Koselleck’s
and Skinner’s ideas relevant to the present work is in order at this point.
Some of the basic notions with which Reinhart Koselleck has worked
include the concept of temporal structures or time layers (strata) charac-
terized by varying speed of change within these strata. In the kind of
conceptual history (Begriffsgeschichte) that Koselleck has elaborated, a
“concept” is defined as a word that has concentrated in itself “several sub-
stantial meanings” and that “bundles up the variety of historical experi-
ence together with a collection of theoretical and practical references into
a relation that is given and can be experienced only through the concept”
(Koselleck [1985] 2004, p. 85). Begriffsgeschichte “interprets history
through its prevailing concepts” (p. 86), it switches between diachronic
and synchronic analysis, revealing “dislocations” between older and newer
meanings of words and, thus, disclosing layers of meaning concealed by
the everyday use of language (pp. 89–90). By examining this stratification,
conceptual history “goes beyond the strict alternation of diachrony and
synchrony and relates more to the contemporaneity of the noncontempo-
raneous (Gleichzeitigkeit des Ungleichzeitigen) that can be contained in a
concept” (p. 90). Enlarging on the relation between concept and the
material event, Koselleck throws more light on what he means by
Gleichzeitigkeit des Ungleichzeitigen: “there exists between concept and
materiality a tension now transcended, now breaking out afresh, now
seeming insoluble” (p. 86). One example is the ancient “Greek space of
experience” where “diverse and historically variant constitutions coexist
and are thereby comparable” (p. 98). In addition to this “tension” between
the concept and the concrete event, Koselleck also uses “convergence” to
define the history of concepts (“the convergence between concept and
history”) (p. 86). “Dislocation” (of meanings, of words) and “contact”
also occur among the terms denoting encounter or near-encounter
between concepts or concept and object. This relationship between con-
cept and object ranging from “convergence” to “tension” largely owes its
characteristics to the very intersection of elements (concepts, events) that
are chronologically out of step with one another. Another explanation
refers to the “varying extensions of time [which] are contained in the con-
cept of Gleichzeitigkeit der Ungleichzeitigen. They refer to the prognostic
nature of historical time, for each prognosis anticipates events which are
certainly rooted in the present and in this respect are already existent,
although they have not actually occurred” (p. 95). It is this “noncontem-
poraneous” intersection of meanings and events that the present analysis
singles out and applies to the discussion of the Church’s discourse on
identity.
The simultaneous occurrence of meanings that ought not to occur at
the same time, called by Koselleck “a mode of temporal experience”
(p. 94), presupposes a distinction between two kinds of time. There is
chronological time in the sense of a “common temporal scale calculated
on the basis of the physical-astronomical time of our planetary system”
(Koselleck [1985] 2004, p. 1). Then there is historical time which is
“bound up with social and political actions, with concretely acting and
suffering human beings and their institutions and organizations. All these
actions have definite, internalized forms of conduct, each with a peculiar
temporal rhythm” (p. 2); Koselleck distinguishes further within historical
time “many forms of time superimposed one upon the other” (p. 2), a
view that he draws from Johann Gottfried Herder. Examining concepts at
these various levels enables the detection of “dislocations,” between vari-
ous meanings. The introduction of the “acceleration” of history (p. 103)
and the idea that different temporal strata require different approaches
(p. 105) indicates even more clearly how conceptual entities can be out of
step with one another.
Koselleck confines his investigations mainly to the period 1750–1850
when he considers that the principal modern political and social concepts
emerged. However, Jan-Werner Müller argues that intellectual historians
8 A. VELICU
could extend their analysis to include the years of the third millennium
and could resort to a “re-forged” version of some of these conceptual
tools, which is one goal of the present study. What Müller suggests in this
respect is that “[c]onceptual history … should be detached from the larger
view of modernity associated with Geschichtliche Grundbegriffe; it should
take seriously the insight that concepts can always be contested and relo-
cated in new conceptual contexts” (Müller 2011, p. 587). The assertive
post-communist stance of the Romanian Orthodox Church as an institu-
tion and as an intellectual actor in a period characterized by a re-launched
campaign of democratization (and, possibly, by secularization) offers an
example of coping with the process of modernity.
Reforging Koselleck’s conceptual tools implies using selected aspects of
his method along with Quentin Skinner’s approach. According to Skinner,
the study of an utterance requires not only the recovery of meaning but
also the “intended force with which the utterance is issued” (Skinner
2002, p. 82). In other words, the historian has “to grasp not merely what
people are saying but also what they are doing in saying it” (p. 82). Skinner
elucidates the point by resorting to philosopher J.L. Austin’s terms illocu-
tionary and perlocutionary as applied to statements; the former refers to
an utterance that performs an act “such as promising, warning, entreating,
informing and so on” (p. 98); perlocutionary intentions, or perlocution-
ary force of an utterance has to do with what the author “may have
intended by writing in a certain way,” namely with intended effects (p. 99).
Clarifying the importance of these “speech acts,” Skinner has argued that
“an understanding of the illocutionary act performed by a speaker will be
equivalent to understanding their primary intentions in issuing their utter-
ance” (pp. 98, 104–105). Further, in order to grasp the meaning of the
utterance one needs to identify “the precise nature of the intervention,”
that is to understand “why it was put forward” (p. 115). This means that
the historian must identify the context of the utterance (p. 116). The con-
textual importance of an argument, its illocutionary or perlocutionary
force and the nature of the speech act are the elements selected from
Skinner’s method to treat the present source material along with Koselleck’s
idea of the “contemporaneity of the noncontemporaneous.”
Skinner has written that “the view at which I have arrived is in some
respects similar to the one embodied in Reinhart Koselleck’s now cele-
brated programme for the study of Begriffsgeschichte, histories of con-
cepts” (p. 177). The assumption of this common view is the need “to treat
our normal concepts less as statements about the world than as tools and
weapons of ideological debate,” which is derived to some extent from

“Foucault’s Nietzschean contention that ‘the history which bears and
determines us has the form of war’” (177; Skinner refers in a note to
Foucault’s Power/Knowledge, ed. Colin Gordon, Brighton, 1980, p. 114).
Skinner finds an affinity with Koselleck in so far as both examine changing
concepts. The present study, however, deals with contemporary material
where the emphasis is less on conceptual change but on the assertive,
indeed confrontational, use of concepts.
Having stated the aim of this investigation at the beginning of this sec-
tion followed by an account of the sources and of their intended treat-
ment, it may be worthwhile restating the purpose of the study at this
juncture. Thus, the chief aim of the present investigation is to find out
whether there is a tension within the arguments of the Church where
“utterances” that are set firmly in the post-communist intellectual context
are out of step (“noncontemporaneous”) with “utterances” belonging to
the past, particularly when it comes to the deployment of the concept of
Orthodoxy and its related meanings. At the same time, the study explores
the illocutionary and perlocutionary force of these utterances. I turn now
to a succinct overview of earlier research.
Previous Research
Examination of the role of the Romanian Orthodox Church has been a
constant element in studies on the transition from a Communist system to
a post-Communist one. A significant contribution derived from the field
of “transitology” has looked in more detail at church-state relations with
other religious groups forming the object of analysis along with the
Orthodox Church (Stan and Turcescu 2007); in this context, a section of
this work addresses the question of Orthodoxy and identity (Chaps. 1 and
3). Stan and Turcescu concentrate on nationalism in general, concluding
that “[t]he interpenetration of religion and nationalism remains a salient
feature of Romanian post-communist political life” (p. 64). The link
between religion and nationalism emerged as the Romanian Orthodox
Church endeavoured to, and then succeeded in, taking over the “nation-
alistic discourse” (p. 64). In the early nineteenth century and later, it was
in fact the Greek Catholic Church that pursued the idea of (Latin-based)
national identity, while the Orthodox Church was virtually silent on the
subject. While Stan and Turcescu in their valuable work here and in other
studies concentrate on two comprehensive examples—incorporating the
10 A. VELICU
Bessarabian Metropolitanate within the Romanian Church and the con-

struction of the “Cathedral of National Salvation”—their work raises two
further questions. One concerns the extent of the Church’s appropriation
of the “nationalistic discourse;” the other, the intellectual context in which
the Church has attempted to take over the shaping of national and cultural
identity: the lines of argument pursued and the concepts used as opposed
to, or along with those of, secular voices on the subject of identity. As
explained above, these are two of the main questions that the present
study explores. The emphasis, however, is on what Daniel Barbu has called
“the national normative discourse” of the Orthodox Church (Barbu,
Historia April 2011).
The subtitle notwithstanding, Cristian Romocea’s Church and State:
Religious Nationalism and State Identification in Post-Communist
Romania (2011) contains only one chapter dealing with post-1989 mat-
ters proper. Romocea discusses here personalities and groups rather than
concepts and ideas (pp. 12–34), stressing the Church’s attempts to reach
an accommodation with the state. Otherwise, the work offers a useful
historical background and a discussion of the emergence and unfolding in
time of the church-state relationship with an emphasis on the role of the-
ology vis-à-vis nationalism. There is a section on the Romanian Orthodox
Church’s claims to be part of the formation of the Romanian people
(pp. 110–136), the significance of obtaining autocephalous status and the
involvement in the interwar politics as well as an analysis of the “Marxist-
Orthodox Symbiosis” (pp. 149–170).
A study that deals with the Romanian Orthodox Church and aspects of
the Holocaust in Romania also notes “the worrying return after 1990 of
the rightwing Orthodox nationalism of the interwar period” (Popa 2017,
p. 8). In addition, Ion Popa remarks that by locating itself within a frame-
work of national identity, “the Church was able to maintain its prestige
after the fall of Communism” (p. 9). These are brief mentions in a study
that otherwise concentrates on the Church’s attitude towards the Jewish
Community in Romania and on its recollection of the Holocaust; it is
chiefly the final two chapters that discuss the post-Communist years. The
work touches on the Communist regime’s use of the Church for national-
ist purposes (pp. 145–146) and Popa even claims that after 1967 one can
talk about there being an “Orthodox national Communism” (p. 147);
the latter point would come as a surprise to anyone who, at the time,
was part of the cultural milieu, coped with the political context and was
familiar with the public outlook on religion and the Church. On the
post-1989 period, Ion Popa argues that one of the main tendencies of the
Church “has been its emphasis on and promotion of Orthodox national-
ism” (p. 156; see also p. 160), and that the Church has “reinforced the
nationalist message” through theologian Dumitru Stǎniloae’s writings
(pp. 160–161).
The collection of studies edited by Lucian N. Leuștean concentrates on
“the relationship between Orthodox churches, nationalism, the nation-
state-building process in Southeastern Europe in the nineteenth century”
(Leuștean, ed. 2014a, p. 5). The historical approach with the relevant
theoretical references to nationalism (modernist, ethno-symbolism, peren-
nialism and primordialism [pp. 6–12]) offers a useful general background.
The chapter on the Romanian Orthodox Church by Leuștean (drawing
liberally on an earlier article [Leuștean 2007]) traces in some detail the
accommodation of the Church and the Romanian State to one another
throughout a period of major political changes in Romania from the end
of the eighteenth century to the first decades of the twentieth century.
The occasional references to the importance of the Church to national
identity (Leustean 2014b, pp. 107–108, 111–112, 114, 122, 124, 126–127,
131, 151–152, 158–160) point to the need for a similarly detailed account
of the intellectual history of the period, some contributions in this area
having been made in Neuman’s and Heinen’s collection of studies (2013;
see below). A couple of brief, informative surveys by the same author take
into account the political background, mentioning the collaboration of
the Church with the Security services (Leuștean, ed., chs. 1 and 3, 2010).
A factual account of a more limited period notes that under communism
the Church had an autonomous status, similar to the Red Cross, albeit
under state control (Enache and Petcu 2009, p. 77). European integration
as a way of “rediscovering Europe within us” is the subject of an analysis
that considers the issue of joining the European Union from the point of
view of the Orthodox Church (Gabor 2007, p. 9). On the subject of
European integration and aspects of identity, my own approach has con-
centrated on the extent to which tensions within the concept of identity—
Eastern Orthodoxy versus the Latin legacy entailing Western European
values—could be accommodated within a wider Continental context
(Velicu 2012, pp. 52–68).
A collection of studies on concepts relevant to this enquiry (patriotism,
identity, culture) has opted for an approach based on conceptual history
(Neumann and Heinen 2013); some of these useful contributions are
referred to below. A discussion that touches on the relationship between
12 A. VELICU
the Orthodox Church and the state has approached the subject historically
(Rogobete 2004, pp. 284–288). Works on the Orthodox Church in
Romania after 1989 range from a theological treatise that recommends a
return to pre-Constantinian Christianity as a solution to the present prob-
lems of Romanian Orthodoxy, including secularism (Pricop 2013), to a
collection of incisive columns in periodicals, reflecting on Orthodoxy per-
ceived as a problematic presence after the collapse of the communist dic-
tatorship (Baconschi 2010, pp. 141–142). Further scholarly works range
from a rather polemical text that argues in favour of a new law on religious
affairs that would grant the Church national status (Preda 1999, p. 8) to
an ample and systematic study of the “public identity” of the Church after
the fall of communism (Conovici 2009, I: 30); Conovici’s work also
examines the transition from communism to post-communism and its
impact on the Church thematically, both in its institutional aspects as well
as in terms of the Orthodox Church vis-à-vis the state. In a more recent
study, Conovici has touched on the Church’s campaign for an officially
recognized “national” status as part of the “memory work” undertaken by
the Church on the interwar and the communist periods (Conovici 2013).
An author favourably inclined towards religion but acerbic about the
Orthodox Church as an institution detects signs of bureaucracy in the
multitude of clerical titles and their over-scrupulous use, in the inertia that
dominates “various Church periodicals (scholarly or not) and other publi-
cations, as well as the (tolerated) kitsch of the religious Church ambiance”
(Neamt ̦u 2005, pp. 92, 74–98, 193).
Although it covers only a few years after the fall of communism, Olivier
Gillet’s study of 1997 makes a useful contribution by discussing the
church-state relationship and also addressing the question of nationalism
and identity in connection with the Romanian Orthodox Church. Gillet
analyses the Church’s discourse on national identity during the 1980s
which included terms from the current political nationalist discourse such
as protochronism, namely the claim that Romanians have anticipated
Western ideas, discoveries and, generally, significant developments
(pp. 81–85, 89, 99–102). Gillet also draws attention to the return of the
extreme right-wing views of the 1930s both before and after 1989
(pp. 91–92). In the brief chapter dealing with the post-communist years
up to 1995, Gillet looks at the concept of nationalism in a political con-
text, however, without dwelling too much on the Church. The return of
ultra-nationalist notions of the 1930s in the Church’s discourse
(pp. 136–137) determines Gillet to suggest that “L’attitude actuelle de
l’Eglise orthodoxe roumaine par rapport aux événements politiques

nationaux et internationaux mériterait à elle seule une étude particulière”
(p. 136). He also sees the need for a study on the subject along the lines
of intellectual history (pp. 147–148). All in all, Gillet’s conclusion is that
the kind of nationalist thought (e.g., the idea that being Romanian means
being Orthodox and the other way round) which is part of the Orthodox
Church’s discourse hinders the process of democratization (p. 158).
The issue of Orthodoxy and human rights in the past as well as in the
present is the subject of a study that traces the chronological sequence
from a critical perspective: “From the very beginning we need to state that
the encounter between Human Rights and Orthodoxy displays a certain
ambivalence. This ambivalence comes from the very history of the Eastern
Church’s encounter with modernity, the latter being marked, among oth-
ers, by the concept of Human Rights” (Preda in Brünning 2012, p. 304).
Radu Preda is a theologian who considers that the accommodation of the
Orthodox Church to the contemporary world has succeeded: “At present,
two decades after the fall of communism, the resumed dialogue of
Orthodoxy with modernity and its fundamental product, the concept of
Human Rights, is carried out in a wholly different context than a century
ago, when mainly the question of national emancipation was at stake”
(Preda in Brünning 2012, p. 306). This is a useful observation which,
however, needs qualifying, something performed by the present study in
the next chapter.
Turning to identity, a general definition—a sense of shared experiences
and values over time—will serve the overall purpose of this work (for varia-
tions on this theme, see, for instance, Hall 1996, pp. 2–4; Bauman 1996,
pp. 18–23). This definition is offered here as a provisional reference point,
keeping in mind the contested nature of the concept and, consequently,
the need to treat it as a fluid notion in a recognizable field of meaning. The
difficulties of defining collective identity make up Bernhard Giesen’s
somewhat sceptical definition of the concept: “Identity as a presupposi-
tion of and the reference to a continuous subject is absolutely certain for
the actors, but it is also inaccessible to empirical observation as it escapes
objectification and defies description” (Giesen 2005, p. 246). Further res-
ervations appear in an important article that draws attention to the fluidity
and ambiguity of the concept (Brubaker and Cooper 2000, p. 1). Brubaker
and Cooper distinguish between identity as a category of practice and a
category of analysis in a formula inspired by Pierre Bourdieu (pp. 4–5),
and between strong and weak understandings of identity (pp. 10–11),
14 A. VELICU
attempting to detect possible core features (“fundamental sameness—

sameness across persons and sameness over time” [p. 8]). These distinc-
tions lead to empirical examples (including differences between Hungarians
and Romanians in Transylvania [p. 27]) that demonstrate the complica-
tions of insisting on one definition. On the subject of these differences,
Rogers Brubaker and his co-authors discuss everyday ethnicity and nation-
hood in the Transylvanian town of Cluj where elements of identity appear
in the interaction and mutual perception of ethnic groups (Brubaker et al.
2006). Having entered these caveats, it is useful to emphasize that the
components of identity discussed here are inclusion/exclusion along with
the relational nature of identity and persistence through change and ori-
gins (Lorenz 2008, pp. 24–30) with the addition of practice as an equally
relevant feature. In so far as a Latin-based language and Christian
Orthodoxy define Romanian identity, these traits presuppose the constant
practice of employing that particular language and exercising that particu-
lar religion over a long period of time.
According to a recent view, each orientation of modernity encounters a
“comprehensive counternarrative” (Smith 2016, p. 13). These orientations
are characterized by essential components of modernity—offering an
implicit definition of the process at the same time—such as secularization,
progress, structural differentiation with its accompanying institutionaliza-
tion and individualism. According to this account, “These are not so much
antimodern conceptions as they are part of the structure of modernity
itself” (Smith 2016, p. 13). Establishing this particular framework of
modernity for the analysis of Orthodox Church’s arguments about iden-
tity may help to understand in what way the clergy’s along with some lay-
men’s arguments about identity, continuity and tradition are part of
coping with modernity.
The succinct exploration of “multiple religious modernities” (Hervieu-
Léger 2005, pp. 330–333) introduces a number of distinctions between
American and European modernities as well as soft and hard religions.
The repeated use of the term “paradoxical[ly]” (pp. 330, 338) indicates
the attempt to reconcile opposites in a macro-sociological explanation of
the persistence and place of religion in today’s society. Whether outlining
such a place entails adaptation or re-asserting one’s presence, the element
of transition has to be taken into account. Kallistos Ware, a Christian
Orthodox English clergyman, offers a view not often encountered in the
geographical area of Orthodoxy: “Inevitably the transition from the situa-
tion of a state church to that of a ‘free’ church, existing in what is
essentially a multicultural secular society, will prove painful, and may seem
at first to involve much material loss and many sacrifices. Yet in the long
term the change will be found to involve not loss but gain” (Ware in
Chaillot ed. 2011, xvii–xviii). Moving on from this bird’s-eye view to a
more closely outlined area, one study has considered the question of
power in the context of the relationship between church and state with an
emphasis on the Russian case (Confino 2005, p. 339). Another work has
concentrated on freedom of religion in Eastern Europe, particularly before
1989 (Mojzes 1992). Work on religion and national identity has been
surveyed recently by Matthias Koenig and Wolfgang Knöbl (2015, pp. 4–6),
a work which also contains a number of useful empirical references to the
relevance of Orthodoxy to the Romanian national identity (Trittler et al.
2015, pp. 134–135, 141–142).
Defining Terms
The term “Latinity” (Rom. “latinitate”) recurs as a chief component in
definitions of the Romanian identity. It is usually used in the sense of a set
of cultural (and often ethnic) connotations derived from speaking a lan-
guage descended from Latin. As employed by Romanian intellectuals, the
word often implies an affinity with Europeans of Latin descent and, by
extension, a bond with the (Western) European cultural area. One obser-
vation is in order here: considering the chief components of a European
identity (Greek philosophy, Roman legalism and Judaeo-Christian values,
the Athens-Rome-Jerusalem foundation), my analysis invites the reader to
keep in mind that when the connotations of the Latin legacy appear in
various discourses, it is always the language, not the legal system that is
meant. The insistence with which some authors discussed below highlight
the implications of using a Romance language, particularly when it comes
to European integration, leaves their deployment of the term rather
incomplete. Clarifying what is missing and how this incompleteness is
exploited ideologically are important aspects examined below.
A number of terms related to, or nearly synonymous with, identity
appear at various stages of the discussions after 1989 carrying the sense of
continuity, survival, or defining origins. These concepts are strewn about
the post-1989 discourse, but my analysis dwells on their use in keynote
texts, programmatic statements or interviews announcing decisive orienta-
tions. Some examples are ethnogenesis (used by the Orthodox clergy in
the Patriarchate’s periodical Vestitorul Ortodoxiei September 1990), a
16 A. VELICU
particular sense of “existence” (as employed by Ioan Scurtu in an inter-

view in April 2001 [see Boia 2017, p. 10]) or a form of ethnic emergence
interwoven with religious (Christian) conversion. Although it is useful to
mention these identity-equivalent terms in this introductory chapter, con-
textual descriptions suggesting various meanings belong to the subsequent
analysis.
As far as culture is concerned, the term appears here as a qualifier of the
concepts of identity and tradition. In this respect, the term implies shared
values over time by a coherent social and ethnic group. A helpful standard
definition of culture as “an historically transmitted pattern of meanings
embodied in symbols” derives from the work of an anthropologist who
has stressed the importance of interpretation in context (Geertz 1973, p.
89). It should be said that the emphasis in my analysis is on meanings
articulated in an intellectual discourse rather than on symbols.
The same applies to the concept of nation and the qualifier “national.”
It is the adjective applied to the notion of “identity” that is of interest
here. Out of the vast literature on nation and nationalism, I select here a
definition employed in recent scholarship dealing with Eastern Europe
with particular relevance to the Romanian context. The Romanian histo-
rian Lucian Boia distinguishes between “national consciousness” and the
“mere consciousness of ethnic identity,” the former being the idea of “a
nation state, [which] is the will of a community, ethnically homogenous or
not, to form a political organism” (Boia [1997] 2017, pp. 72–73). As for the
nation as such, Boia refers to the generally accepted criteria in the litera-
ture on the subject, “jus solis” and “jus sanguinis,” resulting in two defini-
tions: one resting on the ethnic, “blood relation” argument (e.g., the view
of the German nation until recently) and the other based on a civic, con-
tractual relationship (e.g., the French nation as defined after 1789). As
Boia points out, the Romanians have traditionally adopted the ethnic ver-
sion, defining themselves through their “common origin (Roman, Dacian
or Dacian-Roman), through their homogenous language, through their
shared history, through their specific spirituality” (Boia [1997] 2017, p.
74). I have used Boia’s definition since he is at the centre of an important
debate on national identity throughout the period covered here. Boia’s
more controversial arguments concern the mythical nature of the founda-
tional stories of the Romanian nation, the subsequent nationalistic accep-
tance in some quarters and the recent date when nations, and therefore
nationalism, emerged: namely, about two centuries ago. The historian
Ioan-Aurel Pop’s view of the nation, as an entity traceable to the Middle
Ages and understood in its “organic” development in the sense of the

German notion, represents a different perspective on the matter (Istoria,
adevarul și miturile, https://onedrive.live.com/?authkey=%21APMfCbA
9d%5F%5FfXdU&cid=81F2BB5E570F9567&id=81F2BB5E570F9567
%216056&parId=81F2BB5E570F9567%213895&o=One, unpaginated
document). Pop also sees a more clear-cut difference between national
consciousness on the one hand and the will to form a state, along with the
corresponding nation-state consciousness on the other.
The post-1989 expansion of the Romanian Orthodox Church as an
administrative structure, with fresh building projects, media outlets and
concerns about its place in political, social and educational spheres, justi-
fies a consideration of its institutional nature in this work. In this respect,
it proves useful to bring in the notions of institutional identity and institu-
tional memory. In the case of the latter aspect, a further concept is impor-
tant in the exploration of the material: memory-beliefs (Russell 1921,
p. 159). While there has been a fair amount of research recently on insti-
tutional identity (Czarniawska 1998) and on institutional memory
(https://paulcairney.wordpress.com/2018/03/01/policy-concepts-in-
1000-words-institutional-memory/), using the two in tandem, particu-
larly in exploring the post-1989 revival of sizeable institutions has hardly
been attempted; the extent to which such an approach may prove fruitful
is discussed below. In order to avoid burdening this introductory chapter
with theoretical preliminaries, however, specific clarifications of the nature
of institutional identity and memory appear as and when necessary.
As for the specific conceptual features of the Eastern Christian Church
as summarized by Orthodoxy, the matter of definition is both more com-
plex and simpler than in the other cases; more complex because of the
(mainly) theological nuances which, however, do not concern the present
study; simpler because, when employed in a secular context, the concept
is not contested or fluid in the manner of those clarified above. In so far as
it is ascribed to national identity, the sense of Christian Orthodoxy consid-
ered below is that suggested by Patriarch Daniel in the address quoted
above (ineffable and incommunicable spirituality) rather than the sense
based on the decisions of the first seven ecumenical councils. As the
method employed here is, on the whole, to derive meaning from use, the
analysis of the deployment of Orthodoxy in the material explored here
clarifies the concept as the study proceeds.
18 A. VELICU
A Modern Strand of Thought on Romanian

National Identity
By way of outlining the context, it is useful at this early stage to survey
some of the main ideas on Romanian national identity advanced through-
out the twentieth century by a few representative Romanian authors. This
overview covers the period up to the Communist takeover in the late
1940s when this kind of thought could still be expressed freely. This
stretch of intellectual history serves as background to the post-1989 dis-
course on identity, but some of these ideas recur after the collapse of com-
munism as they are detached from the pre-war context and become topical
notions once more. Hans-Christian Maner has pertinently observed that
the tone that historians used in their debates about the relation between
tradition and modernity was tempered. Nationalist views were more often
heard in the case of philosophers, literary critics and theologians (such as
Nae Ionescu, Nichifor Crainic, Lucian Blaga, Mircea Eliade or Mircea
Vulcǎnescu). In contrast historians were interested in debating the longevity
of the ancient legacy (Vasile Pârvan), the significance of civilization and the
Byzantine idea (Nicolae Iorga), the meaning of old ties with the Slavic world
(Ion Bogdan, Petre P. Panaitescu), or the opening of the continent towards
its classical center via the Black Sea (Gheorghe Brǎtianu). (Maner in Neuman
and Heinen eds. 2013, p. 241)
The present overview includes only a selection of these thinkers. A more

comprehensive account (although missing Pompiliu Eliade’s views) can be
found in Balázs Trencsényi’s contribution to a recent collection of studies
on important concepts in Romanian history (Neuman and Heinen eds.
2013, pp. 336–364).
Some of the studies on national identity referred to in this section were
passed over in silence during the communist dictatorship because they
posed awkward ideological questions. Others were reprinted with cen-
sored passages and critical prefaces pointing out ideological and other
“flaws,” an example being the 1972 edition of Eugen Lovinescu’s History
of Modern Romanian Civilization to which I return below. A few were
re-issued after 1989. These few details of publishing history are significant
for the intellectual history surveyed here, pointing to the circumstances
under which these ideas acquired renewed currency or not.
Pompiliu Eliade’s study De l’influence francaise sur l’esprit public en
Roumanie. Les origines. Etude sur l’etat de la société roumaine à l’époque des
règnes phanariotes appeared in 1898 and was one of the works re-issued
during the communist period in 1982. The account here is based on the
French first edition published in Paris as his doctoral dissertation in litera-
ture supervised by the historian of comparative literature Ferdinand
Brunetière.
Eliade’s work is confined to the period 1750–1821 (Eliade 1898, x)
and, as the title announces, looks only at the French influence on “l’esprit
public” in Romania, a term which has two meanings for the author: “the
opinion formed by the majority on things of general interest and also the
sum of all opinions and sentiments common to a people” (p. vii). These
opinions were about to start changing during the period covered by his
study. Eliade sees these changes in terms of a process that would take time
and be accompanied by aspirations that “a new current of ideas would be
introduced in the two Principalities” (p. 132). It is France’s role to exer-
cise its influence first through ideas and then by means of direct interven-
tion to “regenerate and emancipate Romania” (p. 133). The author
contrasts the beneficent influence of France with the corruption of the
Phanariot princes during whose harsh rule the Danubian Principalities
became known as the “granary of Constantinople” (p. 133). These were
wealthy individuals from the Greek district (Phanar) of Istanbul appointed
by the Ottoman Porte to rule the Principalities. The appointment went to
the highest bidder. Nevertheless, the very first “image of the Western civi-
lization, however faint and distorted,” along with the influence of France
was in fact introduced by the first Phanariot prince (p. 138). What Eliade
isolates as an important feature that would justify the interest and influ-
ence of France and facilitate its assimilation into the Principalities is the
Latin legacy that binds the two peoples. He reminds the reader that it was
the Romanians from Transylvania who revived this legacy and drew atten-
tion to its importance: it was they “who at the right moment proclaimed
in the Principalities ‘We are Latin!’ This call has decided the history of the
French influence and of the civilization in Romania” (p. 280).
Pompiliu Eliade explains in the introduction to this study that he
approached his work with the idea in mind of a suitable distance between
the historian and the period examined. The historian should be neither
too close nor too far away from his material. Close proximity would pre-
vent his perceiving a clear outline, while distance would diminish the acu-
ity with which the event could be still sensed (p. iii). This method differs
from that of Dumitru Drǎghicescu whose On the Romanian People’s
Psychology (1907) belongs to the kind of cultural or comparative
20 A. VELICU
psychology, Völkerpsychologie, fashionable at the time. This book was not

in print during the communist rule, but was reprinted several times
after 1989.
Drǎghicescu studied sociology in Paris and wrote a doctoral disserta-
tion under the supervision of one of the founders of modern sociology,
Émile Durkheim. A few general considerations about Romanians indicate
the particular approach of this work: the Romanians are a mixture of races
(Thracian, Latin, Slavic), belonging to the “brachycephalic,” rather than
“dolichocephalic,” type which means that they are intelligent, with a lively
and sharp imagination but a weak and changeable character (Drǎghicescu
2013 [1907], pp. 123–128). Drǎghicescu then provides a sketch of the
Romanians’ “psychological physiognomy” (“fizionomie sufleteasca”) as
he assumed that it was in the tenth century. Given that they tended to be
shepherds rather than ploughmen, the Romanians were cruel and violent,
possessed an iron will but could be impulsive, hence, both disciplined and
disorganized, depending on circumstances. They had a rich phantasy, at
times overshadowed by a calculating spirit (pp. 179–181). Having drawn
this portrait at some length, Drǎghicescu proceeds, somewhat apologeti-
cally, to explain that this is an “imagined” portrait, “combined arithmeti-
cally from the psychological data derived from the psychology of our
ethnic ancestors” (p. 180). Moreover, it is “an ideal portrait, mathemati-
cal, put together ad-hoc from the features of our forefathers,” a portrait
that is both “too artificial and too vague” (pp. 180–181). Whether the
reference to the “ideal portrait” was a reference to Weber’s concept
remains unclear; studying with Durkheim, the other major sociologist at
the time, Drǎghicescu may well have been familiar with Max Weber’s work.
After presenting a speculative psychology of the tenth-century
Romanian, Drǎghicescu moves on to the more concrete subject of the
Church’s role in the history of the people. He writes that the development
of the Orthodox Church and that of the Romanian people have been
closely interwoven, however, not necessarily for the better, as the author
implies. The Slavic (presumably, undesirable) influence came through the
Church with its Slavonic cultural background and it was also because of
the Church that the country was dominated by the Greek monks and the
Phanariot rulers (p. 357). Indeed, Drǎghicescu contradicts claims that the
Church saved the country from destruction, arguing that, on the contrary,
it is a wonder that the people have avoided “the chasm so often opened by
the Church in front of our nation” (p. 358). More specifically on aspects
of national identity, the writer points out “the lack of mystical penetration
of the depth of Christian religion,” adding that the Romanians’ religious

practice rests on “ritual, namely on observing all manner of forms and
formulas” (359; see also Eliade 1898, p. 37 and 39). On the other hand,
Drǎghicescu suggests that the lack of a “metaphysical foundation” and the
reduction of religion to a “superficial ritual” and a “blind formalism” has
its advantages, as Romanians have avoided the religious fanaticism, dis-
putes and persecution that have damaged Western Europe (p. 363).
This line of thought from Völkerpsychologie continues in some of
Constantin Rǎdulescu-Motru’s works. A philosopher and a psychologist,
Rǎdulescu-Motru studied at Leipzig in the early 1890s with Wilhelm
Wundt, considered the founder of modern experimental psychology. In a
couple of texts on the psychology of the “nation’s soul,” Rǎdulescu-Motru
attempts to establish the extent to which Romanians tend towards individu-
alism or its opposite. A series of brief reflections from 1910 (The Soul of Our
Nation) assert that, considering the degree to which Romanians attend to
the opinions of others, they seem to have more of a “group conscience”
than “an individual one of [their] own” (Rǎdulescu-Motru 1910, p. 14).
Another text published about a quarter of a century later (The Psychology of
the Romanian People) further qualifies this national trait. Here the reader
learns that Romanians are in fact known for their individualism, that they
avoid any forms of collectivism and are even inclined towards anarchy
(Rǎdulescu-Motru 1936, p. 11). However, this kind of individualism does
not characterize the spirit of initiative and entrepreneurship in the economic
field. An additional feature of the national character is “lack of persever-
ance,” a remark that Rǎdulescu-Motru backs with statistics and tables about
pupils who do not complete their studies (p. 13).
When it comes to the significance of religion, Rǎdulescu-Motru expands
his argument to include the place of the Church in recent Romanian his-
tory. In his Romanianness: The Catechism of a New Spirituality (1936), he
states that Christian spirituality “is an integral part of the Romanian psy-
chological constitution” which “supplies the imperative of its messianism
on Earth” (Rǎdulescu-Motru 1936, p. 101). The Orthodox Church has
indeed helped to preserve national identity, but has allowed itself “to be
dominated by the interests of the State” (Rǎdulescu-Motru 1936, p. 130).
The philosopher was not immune to contemporary currents of political
thought. It has to be said that in a work of 1937, when discussing the
general problem of the subordination of the science of social psychology
to the “spiritual purpose within which a people’s history unfolds,”
Rǎdulescu-Motru supported his point with a reference to the
22 A. VELICU
“National- Socialist philosophy shared by today’s rulers of Germany”

(Rǎdulescu-Motru 1937, note on p. 9). In the Romanian political context
of the mid-1930s with the exalted spiritual ideals of the extreme right-
wing, his claim about the people’s messianic role may be seen as a conces-
sion to contemporary ideological strands rather than a sign of personal
convictions. Initially, Rǎdulescu-Motru had supported the Liberal Party,
later the Peasant Party; it could be argued that, on the whole, his political
sympathy was not for the extreme right-wing.
Theologian Dumitru Stǎniloae responded to Rǎdulescu-Motru’s reflec-
tions in a couple of articles in the periodical Gândirea. In the process,
Stǎniloae offered his own views on the character of the Romanians.
According to the theologian, a particular feature of the “soul” of the
nation is constituted by a mystical link with nature which, for example, can
be observed in the way Romanians look after their cattle and land (Stǎniloae
2014 [1936], pp. 66–68). Moreover, this feeling for nature derives from
the impact of Orthodoxy. Stǎniloae goes on to prove his point by contrast-
ing Orthodox Christianity with what he regards as the very different (less
commendable) tenor of Catholicism and Protestantism, and also by con-
trasting the Romanian way of life with that of the Saxons whom Stǎniloae
knew from his contact with this German-speaking minority in Transylvania.
Needless to say, the Romanians come out better: they are sociable but also
willing to assert their individual personality (pp. 70–71); they are realist
and endowed with “lucid judgment and a sense of calm” (p. 75). Above
all, they are a nation permeated by the Orthodox faith due to their emerg-
ing as an already Christian folk (unlike, say, the Russians who were con-
verted late and as a result of a decision in a particular year), which enables
Romanians to separate clearly the earthly from the heavenly, resulting in a
more acute belief in the future life than in the case of any other people
(pp. 76–77). This panegyric ends with the main defining feature of the
nation, namely “harmony” in the sense of “a marvellous balance of its
traits, of its relations with the world” (p. 81). Some of these arguments
resurface after 1989 when Dumitru Stǎniloae enjoyed a few years of public
fame before he died in 1993 at the age of ninety; his texts would be
reprinted and quoted, particularly by intellectuals of a religious and
nationalist persuasion. Thus, in his response to Rǎdulescu-Motru, the
theologian did not discuss the arguments in order to examine the latter’s
evidence and scrutinize the logic; Stǎniloae simply offered a counter-
portrait firmly set in an Orthodox framework.
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"'I did! I did!' I exclaimed, with a fresh burst of tears. 'And now I
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"'Why don't you go, then?' was the natural question."
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Return to God, and He will return to you. He can hear you as well
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"He jumped aboard his boat, which now came up, and I started up
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"'Let the boy alone!' said he. 'Do you mean to kill him?' Haven't you
got enough on your hands already?'"
"'What is that to you?' asked the captain, fiercely."
"'It is so much to me that I won't stand by and see a child murdered.

Come now, captain, there is no use in bullying. I know enough to
hang you, and by— I'll do it, too, if you don't behave yourself better.
Get away, George, and go to bed.'"
"I was only too glad to obey, and crept to my miserable bed. My new
friend's words seemed to have thrown a little light on my dark path.
He had promised to write to my father, and I believed he would keep
his word; but that was not all. He had turned my thoughts to my
Father in heaven—a Father forgotten, sinned against, outraged, but
still my Father, pitying and caring for me through all. I repeated to
myself the parable of the Prodigal Son, which I had learned by heart
long ago. 'And while I was yet a great way oft; my Father saw me,
and had compassion on me.'"
The clergyman stopped and cleared his throat.
"All the next day my head and limbs ached terribly, and I could hardly
sit up, but I was happier than I had been for many day. I confessed
my sins and sought earnestly for forgiveness, and it seemed to me
as if I found it, for a wonderful peace and quietness appeared to
descend on my heart. I believed that I was going to be very sick, and
I thought I should probably die. Oh! How earnestly I did pray that I
might be spared to see my dear father once more, if it were only for
long enough to beg his forgiveness for all my undutiful conduct."
"My forebodings proved true, so far as the sickness was concerned.

We were not far from Rochester, which was not then the busy little
city it has since become, but only a pretty, thriving village. By the
time we arrived at its outskirts, I was very ill indeed. I tried hard to sit
up and drive, but it was impossible, and just as we reached the
aqueduct, I fell from my horse and rolled into the water. A man who
saw me fall, instantly jumped in after me and brought me to shore."
"'Let him alone, you fool!' shouted the captain. 'He is only shamming.
He can help himself well enough.'"
"'Shamming!' said my preserver. 'He don't look much like it. There,
take him on board and use him well, for he seems to need it.'"
"'Oh, don't let him take me!' I pleaded, feebly clinging to his arm as
the captain approached. 'He will kill me, I know he will. He has
almost done so already. Let me die in peace.'"
"'What does all this mean?' said an elderly, well-dressed man,

approaching the spot, where quite a little crowd had gathered round
me. 'What is the matter, my little fellow? Don't be afraid, no one shall
hurt you. Tell me the whole story.'"
"'He has beaten and starved me,' I tried to explain. 'I know he means
to kill me! He said he would. Oh, do please send me home to my
father!'"
"My head again turned giddy as I spoke, and I should have fallen but
for the supporting arm of my new friend, who sat down on step and
took me on his knee."
"'Just look here, sir,' said he, turning down the collar of my shirt. 'Is
that the way to treat a little child like this?'"
"I dimly remember the looks and tones of pity and indignation as the
men gathered around me. I recollect the old gentleman's assuring
me that I should be taken care of, and then putting me into a wagon,
the motion of which distressed me exceedingly. After that, the time is
really a blank. I knew sometimes that I was in a comfortable bed and
kindly treated, and I have a dim remembrance of some ladies who
came often to see me; but I could not speak clearly or give any
distinct account of myself."
"But one night, after what seemed a very long and sound sleep, I
woke, and found that I was better. I lay perfectly still, not moving a
finger, but letting my eyes rove idly round the room. I looked at the
whitewashed walls and the uncarpeted floor, and I guessed that I
was in some almshouse or hospital. Presently my eyes fell upon a
lady who was sitting by the foot of the bed. I looked at her a long
time, as she sat reading by the light of the shaded lamp, and I
seemed to remember that it was not the first time I had seen her
near me. The tall figure and erect carriage seemed familiar, and
carried my thoughts back to home. So did the somewhat large but
noble and regular features, the clear, brown skin, and the abundant
dark hair, a little streaked with gray."
"'Mother!' said I, at last, 'Is that you?' It was the first time that I had
ever called her 'mother.' She did not start, but quietly laid down her
book and came to my side."
"'You feel better, do you not, my dear boy?' said she, laying her hand
on my forehead.
"Yes, mother, but very weak and faint.'"
"She gave me a little wine and then some nice broth, which seemed
to refresh me, but she would not allow me to talk."
"'Is my father here?' I asked, after lying still a little longer."
"'He is here. He has been watching by you for two or three nights,
and I persuaded him to lie down.'"
"I still felt very low and weak and it tired me to talk; so I lay still, and
looked at my mother with a kind of peaceful enjoyment of her
presence, till I fell asleep once more. The next morning I saw my
father, but I was not allowed to speak to him, for my strength was so
reduced that my recovery was considered a very doubtful matter. I
well remember the pain it gave me to see how old he had grown,
and how careworn and sad he looked. He assured me of his entire
forgiveness, and bade me give all my thoughts to getting well, that I
might go home once more."
"It was only by the best of nursing that I finally regained so much
strength as to allow of my being removed from the asylum whither I
had been carried by those who had rescued me from my tyrant, and
it was more than two months before I was considered well enough to
set out for home. During all this time my step-mother was unwearied
in her kindness and attention to me, and I began to wonder how I
could ever have disliked her. I do not think I should ever have done
so, had not my mind been prejudiced against her beforehand by
some of those unlucky people who are afflicted with an utter inability
to mind their own business. I found out, too, that it is possible for a
woman to understand Latin and Greek and yet be a good nurse, an
excellent housekeeper, and the kindest of mothers."
"I learned after a while how my parents had finally found me. When
Captain Stokes and Mr. Bangs came to read the advertisement at
the tavern, they were convinced that I was the child described, and
they were confirmed in their belief by my running away as I did.
Captain Stokes immediately wrote to my father, saying that a boy
answering in all respects to his description had joined the company
at P—, and had been with them some months, but had suddenly
disappeared, without leaving any trace of his whereabouts. He
believed, however, that I might have taken to the canal.
Advertisements were sent to all the towns upon the canal, and
persons employed to look out for me among the drivers; but no news
was obtained till my father received a letter from the man who had
accosted me on the night I have mentioned, saying that I was on the
canal-boat Diamond, and, the writer believed, very badly off. My
incoherent talk had made the people who took charge of me think
that I must be the child who had been so extensively advertised, and
they wrote to my father immediately, but with little hope of his arriving
in time to see me alive."
"Railroads, there were none in those days, and I made my journey

homeward in a packet-boat on the canal. I seemed to recognize
every stone and stump on the way, and I showed my mother the very
spot where the steersman of the other boat jumped off and spoke to
me. Many were the resolutions I made during that long journey, one
of which was that if I was once spared to get well, I would devote my
life to preaching that Gospel of repentance and salvation which had
been so effectually preached to me by the kind Christian boatman. I
kept my word; and the very first sermon that I ever preached was
upon the Parable of the Prodigal Son. However, I am anticipating my
story."
"I did not return to school that winter, but studied at home with my
mother; and I must say I found her a more able and interesting
teacher than my tutor at P—. Perhaps, however, my rapid progress
was owing in part to the fact that I had now a motive for all I did. Be
that as it might, when I returned to school in the spring, I was placed
two classes in advance of that in which I had been before. I worked
hard and gained great credit, and before the end of my stay I had
established as good a character as any boy in the school."
"The menagerie to which I had been attached, visited our village the
very next summer, and I went to see my old friends the lions and
carry them some bread and cake. My mates received me with great
kindness and congratulated me on my return home. Captain Stokes
told me that he had some idea at the time that my story was not true,
and had therefore kept his eye upon me, meaning, if his suspicions
were justified, to return me safely to my friends."
"He looked worn and sickly, and Mr. Bangs told me privately that he
was killing himself with drink. Bob and Polly knew me again directly,
even without the aid of the cakes I had brought them, and showed as
much pleasure at seeing me as a couple of dogs would have done.
Captain Stokes gave me a beautiful parrot as a parting present, and
I never saw him again. He died the next year, and the company was
broken up. Mr. Bangs went to New York and set up a riding school,
which he taught for many years, till he grew wealthy and retired from
business. I was told afterwards that he became a member of the
church in his old age, and lived and died a consistent Christian. I
was glad to hear it, for he certainly had a great deal of good about
him."
"Did you ever hear of the cruel captain again?" asked Agatha.
"Never. He may be living now, but it is not likely. The man who
befriended me is now alive, though a very old man, and is a member
of my congregation. He would accept of no reward for what he did
for me, and my father sent him as a present a fine gold watch and
chain, which he still wears."
CHAPTER V.
THE SCHOLAR'S STORY.
"I AM sure we are very much obliged to you, sir," said Herbert.
"Boys don't very often turn out well who run away from home,"
observed the squire. "You were very fortunate to escape as you did.
Many a lad who has run away and gone on the canal has either
been heard of no more, or, still worse, has grown-up into a ruffian
and drunkard."
"If I were going to run away, I would not go on the canal," observed
Harry. "I would go to sea."
"You might not fare very much better for that," returned the scholar,
"and you would be still more powerless to help yourself if you
chanced to fall into the hands of a brutal captain. Any resistance to
the will of the captain on board ship is a mutiny, and liable to be
punished with death. A seafaring life is hard enough, especially in
the beginning, if begun under the most favorable circumstances; and
the inevitable hardships of the position would not be lightened by an
accusing conscience."
"There is no great danger of Harry's running away," said May,

laughing. "Harry, do you remember when you and Tommy Baker set
out to go to Bengal to hunt tigers?"
Harry blushed and laughed at the same time.
"What was that?" asked Ned.
"Shall I tell, Harry?" asked May.
"O yes, I don't care," replied Harry. "I was only eight years old,
anyhow."
"When Harry was eight years old," May began, "he and Tommy
Baker, a little friend of his, was visiting at the house of a lady who
had a great many beautiful books, and among others one which had
in it a great many pictures and stories about tiger hunting. It had
beautiful colored plates, and the stories were very interesting. So we
always asked for the tiger book whenever we went to see the lady."
"What was her name?" asked Ned, who always wanted all the
particulars.
"Her name was Mrs. G—, but we always called her 'the lady.' All the
children did. Well, Harry and Tommy got the tiger book, and looked
at the pictures and read the stories, till they thought they would like
to go and hunt tigers too. So after supper, instead of coming straight
home, they set out to walk to Bengal. They had each for provisions
an apple and a nice frosted cake, which the lady had given them.
When it grew late and they did not come, mamma sent for them, but
the lady said they had set out some time before. Of course, every
one was alarmed, and papa and Uncle Henry went out to look for
them. Before long Uncle Henry found them a long way from home,
but trudging along back as fast as they could and looking very
crestfallen."
"'Why, boys, where have you been?' asked Uncle Henry."
"'Almost to the toll-gate,' answered Harry."
"'To the toll-gate! And what took you there?'"
"'We wanted to go to India and hunt tigers,' said Harry, beginning to

cry."
"'Well!' said Uncle Henry, laughing. 'What made you turn back?'"
"'Because there was a great big pig in the road,' sobbed Harry, 'and
we were afraid to go past him.'"
Harry joined heartily in the laugh which followed, to the surprise of

Edward, who never could see any fun in a joke against himself.
"Don't you hate to have such stories told about you?" he said to
Harry, in a low tone.
"O no! I don't care! I have often laughed at it myself. I mean to go to

India some time or other, for all that."
"Who else is going to tell a story?" asked Frank.
"I think it is this gentleman's turn next," said the squire, turning to the
scholar, who sat looking at Agatha in an absent-minded way, as if he
were thinking of something very far off. He started as the squire
spoke, and expressed his willingness to contribute his share to the
amusement of the evening.
"We have had two stories of early times-one in Michigan and one in
New York State," said he. "I will tell you a story of early times in
Vermont. It was related to me by the lady to whom the incident
occurred, but as I cannot pretend to repeat her words, I will put the
story in words of my own."
"THE LONELY THANKSGIVING."
"It would be hard to find any place where people dwell at all lonelier
than Bolt's Hill. You turn up the public road, broad and well-travelled,
which leads from Whitehall to Rockville, and go up, and up, and up,
till it seems as if you were going to the clouds. On one side of the
road is a perpendicular wall of rock, from twenty to sixty feet high,
covered with grim, black spruce-trees. On the other side, the land
descends rapidly to a deep ravine, at the bottom of which runs a
brawling stream, which in wet weather is increased to a roaring
torrent."
"There is not a house or a sign of habitation for several miles, but

after a while the precipice and the road turn away from the stream,
and the ravine widens out into a valley, at the bottom of which is a
little, bright green meadow. The traveller comes to an old mossy
apple-orchard, and then to an old red house. The house is low and
needs painting, and the roof, the stone walls which surround the yard
and garden, and all the little buildings about the door are covered
with green moss and whitish lichens, showing how long they have
been standing. The view in front of the house is bounded by a
narrow grove of spruce and other trees, and behind that rises again
the gray wall of rocks. Back of the house, pale green rocky pasture-
land runs down to the brook, with here and there a tree growing in
the scanty soil and rooting itself deep in the rifts of the rock."
"In summer, Bolt's Hill is a pleasant place enough. But the autumnal
and winter gales sweep over it with a sound which may be heard for
miles away, and which seems like the roar of the sea on a sandy
beach."
"But if Bolt's Hill be rather a dreary spot, the little girl who lived there
did not think so. It would be hard to find anywhere a more cheerful,
placid little maiden than Fanny Bolt, or one who enjoyed life any
more. Though she was the only child at home, she did not want for
playmates. She had the dog, the cat and kittens, the cosset lambs,
of which there were every summer one or two, and she was on
terms of intimacy with every horse, cow, and sheep about the place.
In summer, she went across lots to the district school, about three-
quarters of a mile away, and there she had plenty of friends, for all
the school children were fond of the bright, good-natured little girl."
"Fanny had not a great many books of her own. She possessed two
or three which had been her mother's. One called 'Examples for
Young Ladies,' and containing histories of various girls, good and
bad. The good girls invariably made happy marriages, and the bad
ones always caught cold and died, or were thrown out of carriages
and became cripples ever afterwards; the history always ending with
the epitaph of the young lady in question. Then she had a large
'Book of Trades,' with a great many pictures, in which she took great
delight. But her chief treasures were the 'Parents' Assistant' and four
big volumes of Mrs. Sherwood's works, which her sailor brother had
brought her from England the last time he came home. These tales
took her into a different world from her own—a world over which
Fanny pondered and dreamed as she rambled over the pastures or
sat with her sewing or knitting on the flat stone before the kitchen
door."
"Besides these peculiar treasures, Fanny, by the time she was

twelve years old, had read nearly all the books in the house. There
was quite a collection of voyages and travels in the corner cupboard,
which she knew almost by heart, and she had read a great deal of
English and American history. But the book she loved best of all was
the Bible—the great Bible with pictures, which lay on a stand in the
corner, and which she was allowed to look over and study as much
as she pleased, on the single condition that she should always have
clean hands when she touched it."
"Mrs. Bolt had family prayers every morning, and Fanny read her two
verses in turn with the rest, looking over her father as she sat by his
side. Then Fanny, ever since she could remember, had learned
every day first one, then two, then three verses in the New
Testament, which she repeated to her mother before she went to
bed; so that she was very familiar with the sacred text."
"Fanny did not often go to Sunday-school. Her parents were 'Church

people,' and there was no Episcopal church nearer than that at
Rockville, twelve miles away. On the first Sunday of every month, Mr.
and Mrs. Bolt drove over to Rockville to church, and these were
Fanny's great holidays. Then she met her special friends, the rector's
two little daughters. Then she went to Sunday-school, and in
consideration of her living so far away, the teacher allowed her to
take home two or three books at a time. One day, one of the other
little girls in the class objected to this indulgence."
"'We can only have one book at a time, and she has three. I don't
think it is fair.'"
"'Fanny can only come once in a month,' replied the teacher; 'and
when she comes she has learned the lessons for the whole month.
She never misses a lesson, and it is only fair that she should have
the same privileges as you who are more favored.'"
"Fanny had not always been an only child. She had once had two
brothers. The elder had gone to sea before Fanny was born. He had
come home two or three times since she could remember, and had
always brought her and her mother beautiful presents; but he had
not been home now for five years. The ship in which he sailed had
been lost, and though some of the sailors were saved, David Bolt
was not among them. Every one but Fanny believed that he was
drowned; but Fanny could not think so. She never talked about
David now, because it seemed to grieve her mother, but she thought
of him a great deal, and always prayed for him when she said her
prayers."
"The other brother, John, had been injured by the fall of a tree he
was cutting down, and after lingering some months, he too died, and
was buried near the little church in Rockville. Fanny always went to
see his grave when she went to church. She loved to think of John,
too, and remember the talks she used to have with him as he lay on
his bed in the little room opening out of the kitchen. But she felt very
differently about John from what she did about David. John was safe
in heaven, never to suffer any more. Fanny was sure of that."
"But poor David might be cast ashore on some desert island, or a

slave among the savage Arabs, like the Captain Riley whose
narrative was among the books in the corner cupboard; and most
earnestly did the little girl pray that God would care for him and bring
him safely home again."
"One November—the one in which our story begins—the winter had

set in early, and very cold and stormy. There had been snowstorms
already, and the sleighing was good, though the road between Bolt's
Hill and Rockville was somewhat drifted. Fanny did not go to school
now. She learned her lessons at home, and recited them to her
father in the evening. She could not run about the fields any more,
but she did not want either for work or amusement. She had her
lessons to learn and her daily task of spinning to do, for Fanny had
already learned to spin both on the great and little wheel. Then for
amusement, she had the footstool she was working in worsted for a
present to Mr. Henderson, the rector of the church at Rockville: she
had her swing in the garret, her dolls and playhouse, and her books,
which she loved the more the oftener she read them over."
"The day before Thanksgiving—that is to say, on the twenty-seventh

day of November, Mrs. Bolt said to Fanny at the breakfast table:"
"'Now, Fanny, you are to be housekeeper to-day. Your father and

myself are going to Rockville to do some business, and we want you
to stay at home, keep up the fire, and have a comfortable house and
a good supper for us when we come home.'"
"Fanny looked a little grave and disappointed when she heard that
her parents were going to Rockville without her, but her face soon
cleared up again. And she began to please herself with thinking of all
the work she should do, and the nice supper she would have for her
mother at night; for Fanny was already quite a good cook."
"'You will not be lonely,' continued Mrs. Bolt. 'Your father stopped at
Mrs. Morrell's last evening, and invited Miss Gibson to come up and
spend two or three weeks with us, and she is coming this morning.'"
"Fanny clapped her hands with joy. Miss Gibson was the lady who
had taught the district school for the last two summers. She was very
young, only eighteen; and though she well knew how to command
obedience in school, out of school she was the best playfellow in the
world. She knew heaps of stories and more plays than were ever
heard of in the Bolt Hill district before, and all the children loved her.
Miss Gibson was an orphan, and had no home of her own, but she
was a welcome guest at every house in the district. Fanny loved her
dearly, and nothing could please her more than the news that she
was to have her darling Miss Gibson to herself for a whole day."
"'It looks like snow,' said Captain Bolt, as he came in after bringing
the horse round to the door; 'but then it has looked so for two or
three days. Mind and keep up good fires, Fanny. There is plenty of
dry wood and pine-knots in the shed. I shall be home in time to
milk.'"
"'Oh, father, let me milk!' said Fanny. 'I can do it just as well as not.'"
"'Very well, do as you please. And if anything should happen—mind,

I don't see how anything can—but if anything should happen to
prevent our coming home to-night, don't you be scared, but put your
trust in God and go to bed in peace.'"
"'But, father, what could happen?' asked Fanny."
"Nothing that I know of, child, but it is way of mine to look at all sorts
of possibilities. Come now, mother, if you are ready.'"
"Fanny stood at the door of the farm-house with her skirt thrown over
her head, and watched the sleigh down the hill, till a turn in the road
hid it from her eyes. Then, she turned the other way to see if Miss
Gibson was coming, though it was rather early to expect her. Mr.
Morrell lived five miles away by the road, but by the path, ''cross lots,'
along which Fanny used to go to school and by which Miss Gibson
would come, it was only about a mile. This path was almost always
kept open in winter, for it was much the nearest way to the little
village called Rockville Four Corners."
"As I said, it was early for Fanny to expect her friend, but Miss
Gibson had said she should come as early as she could get away.
Fanny gazed for some time across the pasture but saw nothing, and
finally she went in, made up a bright fire, and occupied herself in
washing up the breakfast dishes and putting the kitchen in nice
order. She had done all this, got out her spinning wheel, and learned
her Scripture verses, and still Miss Gibson did not make her
appearance."
"'There is no use in this,' said Fanny, decidedly. 'The more I look for
her the more she won't come. "A watched pot never boils," as father
says. I will just set about my spinning and not go to the door again till
she comes.'"
"As Fanny turned to go into the house, a few snow-flakes came

drifting downwards through the air."
"'There!' said Fanny. 'It is going to snow, after all. I hope father and
mother will not get caught in the storm.'"
"Fanny drew her wheel—her own pretty wheel, made expressly for
her and given her on her last birthday—into its usual place, and
applied herself sedulously to her task, stepping busily backwards
and forwards and singing to herself. She was spinning some
uncommonly fine stocking yarn, and she took great pride in making a
smooth, even thread."
"'I will not even look out of the window,' said she to herself, 'till I have
spun all these rolls.'"
"This was a very good plan of Fanny's. Nothing makes the time pass
more quickly than setting oneself a certain task, and sticking to it
steadily till it is finished. Fanny went on with her spinning, and soon
became interested in her work, which she tried to do as well as she
possibly could. As she took up the last roll, a fierce gust of wind
shook the window so strongly that she turned, without thinking, and
looked out. The air was full of snow-flakes whirling in all directions,
as they were driven by the wind. Fanny went to the window. She
could not even see the barn."
"'It is only a squall,' thought Fanny. 'It will be over presently. I only
hope Miss Gibson has not got caught in it. I do wonder why she does
not come. She told father she would be here directly after
breakfast.'"
"Fanny was destined to wonder a great many times before the day
closed, for Miss Gibson did not come at all, because she did not
even set out. The truth of the matter was this. When Miss Gibson
rose in the morning, she found she had a bad sore throat. She had
taken cold in some way, and her throat was very much swollen and
so sore that she could hardly swallow her breakfast."
"'You will never be able to go up to Bolt's Hill this morning,' said Mrs.
Morrell."
"'I don't like to disappoint Fanny,' said Miss Gibson, 'especially as
she is to be alone to-day. Perhaps I will feel better when I have had
my breakfast.'"
"'We shall see,' returned Mrs. Morrell, shaking her head. 'I am much
mistaken if you get out of the house this day, or to-morrow either.'"
"It turned out that Mrs. Morrell was right. Miss Gibson's cold grew
worse very fast, and before breakfast was over she was obliged to
lie down on the sofa."
"'It is too bad that you should be disappointed, and Fanny too,' said
good-natured Mrs. Morrell. 'I'll tell you what I'll do, Eunice.' (Miss
Gibson's name was Eunice.) 'I will send Jake up to Bolt's Hill with the
sled to bring Fanny down here to spend the day. She will enjoy that,
and so shall I; for there is not a nicer girl than Fanny in the whole
district.'"
"Jake set out on his errand with no good will. He was Mr. Morrell's
nephew, and 'bound' to him; that is, he was to live in his uncle's
house and work for him till he was grown-up; at which time he was to
have a suit of clothes, a horse, and some other matters to start him
in the world. Mr. Morrell had one son, who was in college studying to
be a minister. Jake chose to feel himself very much injured that he
could not go to college, too, though, as his aunt said, it was hard to
tell what he would have done there, since he was the dunce of the
village school, was always at the bottom of the spelling and parsing
classes, and had never yet succeeded in learning the multiplication
table. The only thing to which Jake really applied himself, and in
which he showed any ingenuity, was in shirking work; and it seemed
us if he sometimes took more pains to avoid work than would have
been necessary to do it. In short, Jake was thoroughly and entirely
lazy, and being so, he was almost, as a matter of course, thoroughly
selfish and very much given to lying."
"Jake had finished his chores before breakfast, for a wonder, and he
felt very virtuous in consequence, and very much disposed to spend
the rest of the day in lounging in the chimney-corner. It was therefore
with no good will that he found himself required to go up to Bolt's Hill
and drag Fanny down to his aunt's."
"'I don't believe she will come,' said he, sulkily, 'and, besides, I don't
see why I am to be bothered with her. However, I suppose I can go.'"
"I suppose you can, and pretty quick, too!' returned Mrs. Morrell,
sharply."
"Jake knew by experience that to quarrel with his aunt was no way to
secure his dearly beloved ease, and that he must at least pretend to
obey her. But he had no sort of notion of going clear up to Bolt's Hill.
He took his sled and went out, indeed, but only as far as the grocery
at the corner by the blacksmiths shop, where he lounged away a
couple of hours enjoying the society of two or three village loafers.
Then he returned home."
"'Where is Fanny?' asked his aunt, meeting him at the door."
"Oh, I met Captain Bolt just up at the corner, and he had Fanny with
him. They were coming round this way to tell Miss Gibson that she
need not come up, because they were all going to Rockville for the
day.'"
"'So you see, Eunice, it was well you did not go up there,' said Mrs.
Morrell. 'It is queer too—not a bit like the Bolts.'"
"'Something new might have happened, you know,' said Miss

Gibson. In her heart, she felt hurt that her friends should have
treated her so unceremoniously—inviting her for a visit, and then
going away from home on the very day she was expected. But she
had abundance of that charity which thinketh no evil. She presently
made up her mind that something unforeseen must have happened
which made it necessary for Fanny to go with her parents to
Rockville, and wisely resolved to think no more of the matter till she
saw her friends again. That Jake had made up the whole story was
an idea which never entered her mind."
"Meantime Fanny, in the old red house on the hill, found the time
pass rather slowly. The storm did not abate as she expected; on the
contrary, the snow seemed to fall faster mid faster all the time, and
the wind, catching it up, spun it in whirls and eddies round the house,
and then piled it up in great drifts under the windows and along the
fences. There was no use in looking out of the window, for nothing
was to be seen. Long before noon, Fanny had given up all idea of
Miss Gibson's arriving that day. It was clear she could not come out
in such a storm. Fanny could not help crying a little over her
disappointment; but she soon wiped her eyes."
"'There is no use in crying,' said she to herself, briskly and cheerfully.

'I must just make the best of it, that's all. I mean to work at my
cushion till it is time for dinner, and then make myself some batter
slap-jacks. Mother said I might get anything I liked, and I mean to
have slap-jacks and maple molasses.'"
"Fanny got out her work-basket, sorted her worsteds—crewels she

called them, and went industriously to work. She was embroidering a
pretty pattern, and she soon fell to singing cheerfully over her work.
By-and-by old Bose, the dog, came to the door and scratched to
come in. As Fanny opened the door, the wind pulled it out of her
hand and slammed it back against the wall, while what seemed a
whole snow-drift came whirling in at the door."
"'Whew!' exclaimed Fanny. 'This rather beats all I ever saw, even on
Bolt's Hill! Come in, Bose, you good old dog! You shall have your
dinner with me. I declare!' said Fanny, struck with a sudden thought,
'I mean to have a dinner party.'"
"No sooner said than done. Fanny ran upstairs to the garret, and
presently came down carefully carrying a large basket, and followed
by a very large and beautiful yellowish-white cat, with long hair and a
long, bushy tail. She set the basket down in a warm corner by the
fire. It contained a bunch of yellowish-white fur, which presently
began to move and showed itself to be composed of three plump
kittens, about four weeks old, which stretched themselves, crept out
of the basket, and began playing about the floor. The old cat was
evidently greatly pleased, and showed her satisfaction in cat fashion
by purring, making pretty little coaxing noises, rubbing her head, and
finally mounting in Fanny's lap and sitting on her shoulder. She was
a foreigner, a Japanese, and had been brought home by David Bolt
on his last visit as a present to his little sister. She was only a kitten
then, but she was now growing old. She was still lively and playful
and an excellent mouser. None of her kittens were ever killed. All the
children in the village were glad to have them, and two or three of
them had been carried as far as Rockville and Whitehall. When she
had no kittens, the cat generally slept on Fanny's bed."
"Fanny made her slap-jacks and cooked some ham for her own
dinner. Old Bose sat by her side, wagging his tail, and now and then
giving a short bark. Puss sat up in a chair by the table, and behaved
as well as possible, purring loudly, and now and then speaking to her
kittens which capered about the room. Fanny said grace as her
father did, and eat her dinner, now and then giving her companions a
morsel. Then she washed up all her dishes, swept the hearth, and
sat down to read."
"Meantime the storm kept on increasing in force, if that were

possible, and the short November day drew towards a close. When
Fanny finished her story and looked out, she found it was growing
dark."
"'I must go out and milk, if I am to do it at all,' said she; 'though I don't
exactly see how I am to get to the barn. However, I can try, and if I
cannot make it out I can come back.'"
"She wrapped herself in her shawl, tying it round her that it might not
be in her way, put on her hood, and pulled on a pair of old woollen
stockings over her shoes. Thus equipped, she set out for the barn."
"She found the task rather easier than she expected. The wind had
blown away the snow so as to form a sort of path for a part of the
way; and though there was a drift before the barn-door, she made
her way through it the first time without much trouble, aided by Bose,
who flounced backwards and forwards through the snow and helped

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The Orthodox Church and National

Identity in Post-Communist Romania

The Orthodox Church and

More information about this series at

ISSN 2523-7985 ISSN 2523-7993 (electronic)

I would like to thank Professor Catharina Raduvere of the University of

2 A Resurgent Church 39

3 A Rampant Church 75

5 Undercurrents of Identity Discourse137

6 In Search of a Conclusion161

On 15 January 2016, the patriarch of the Romanian Orthodox Church

© The Author(s) 2020 1

notions—identity, culture, nation—without necessarily attempting to

A range of public utterances by the Church provides one category of

domain. The dynamics of intellectual exchanges, the circulation of ideas

weapons of ideological debate,” which is derived to some extent from

Bessarabian Metropolitanate within the Romanian Church and the con-

l’Eglise orthodoxe roumaine par rapport aux événements politiques

attempting to detect possible core features (“fundamental sameness—

particular sense of “existence” (as employed by Ioan Scurtu in an inter-

Ages and understood in its “organic” development in the sense of the

A Modern Strand of Thought on Romanian

The present overview includes only a selection of these thinkers. A more

psychology, Völkerpsychologie, fashionable at the time. This book was not

of the depth of Christian religion,” adding that the Romanians’ religious

“National-­ Socialist philosophy shared by today’s rulers of Germany”

"'Why don't you go, then?' was the natural question."

"'I have no money, and they watch me so closely that I have no

"'What is your captain's name?' asked the stranger."

"I told him, and he shook his head."

"This admonition was accompanied with more threats and oaths

"'I will do it before I sleep,' said my companion. 'You may depend

"He seized me by the collar as he spoke, and I verily thought my last

"'What is that to you?' asked the captain, fiercely."

"'It is so much to me that I won't stand by and see a child murdered.

The clergyman stopped and cleared his throat.

"My forebodings proved true, so far as the sickness was concerned.

"'What does all this mean?' said an elderly, well-dressed man,

"Yes, mother, but very weak and faint.'"

"'Is my father here?' I asked, after lying still a little longer."

"Railroads, there were none in those days, and I made my journey

"There is no great danger of Harry's running away," said May,

Harry blushed and laughed at the same time.

"What was that?" asked Ned.

"Shall I tell, Harry?" asked May.

"'Why, boys, where have you been?' asked Uncle Henry."

"'Almost to the toll-gate,' answered Harry."

"'To the toll-gate! And what took you there?'"

"'We wanted to go to India and hunt tigers,' said Harry, beginning to

Harry joined heartily in the laugh which followed, to the surprise of

"O no! I don't care! I have often laughed at it myself. I mean to go to

"THE LONELY THANKSGIVING."

"There is not a house or a sign of habitation for several miles, but

"Besides these peculiar treasures, Fanny, by the time she was

"Fanny did not often go to Sunday-school. Her parents were 'Church

"But poor David might be cast ashore on some desert island, or a

"One November—the one in which our story begins—the winter had

"The day before Thanksgiving—that is to say, on the twenty-seventh

"'Now, Fanny, you are to be housekeeper to-day. Your father and

"'Very well, do as you please. And if anything should happen—mind,

"'But, father, what could happen?' asked Fanny."

"As Fanny turned to go into the house, a few snow-flakes came

"'Where is Fanny?' asked his aunt, meeting him at the door."

2 A Resurgent Church 39

3 A Rampant Church 75

5 Undercurrents of Identity Discourse137

6 In Search of a Conclusion161

“National- Socialist philosophy shared by today’s rulers of Germany”