18. Not Our Mission?

I come to this city in the "near abroad" on business. I get into a minibus, where a green shield with a saying from the Koran or an icon hangs above the driver's seat, depending on the nationality of the driver. I settle into a hotel a stone's throw from the Orthodox church, where the relics of St. Luke rest, and go to eat pasties and to the national café "Marakand", also nearby. All the locals, everyone has lived here for a long time - and the city also has two names: the Greek Simferopol, "City of Use", and the Crimean Tatar Akmesjit, "White Mosque". In the XIX century, both names were written on maps.

I consult Bible translators into the Crimean Tatar language. I am the only Orthodox Christian in this project, and I participate in it as a private person – neither the parish, nor the diocese, nor any synodal department sent me to Simferopol. It's just that I work in an organization that deals with this business, it is called the Institute for Bible Translation, and people of different faiths cooperate in it. And the picture that I see in Simferopol is quite typical for many regions of Russia with a Muslim population: Russians who have settled here for a long time are considered Orthodox, the indigenous population is considered Muslims. The two peoples live quite peacefully, although it is not without friction and suspicion, and sometimes conflicts. In order not to strengthen them, no one tries to change the status quo: neighbors of different tribes can congratulate and treat each other on holidays, but a Muslim usually does not try to convert an Orthodox Christian, and vice versa.

However, in recent years, it has become increasingly common to hear the preaching of Islam among the Slavs by radical Islamists. And on the Christian side, the stereotype is broken by Protestants. They come to this city, and to other cities of the former USSR, to talk about Christ to Muslims. Among them there are Russians, Ukrainians, Tatars and even Americans, and the point is not that they came on some business of their own, but at the same time decided to proclaim the Good News. No, they came for this very purpose and, of course, they are supported in one way or another by communities and various organizations at their homes: they raise funds, send materials, organize conferences for the exchange of experience. In short, it is an organized and purposeful work, the purpose of which is Christian evangelism among Muslims.

At the same time, you should not think that these people walk the streets and shout in a loud voice "repent!" No, they settle in the city, learn local languages and customs, as, in fact, real missionaries do always and everywhere. And then they prepare various materials—brochures, calendars, and, of course, editions of Bible books—and distribute them. But the matter is not limited to this: missionaries really try to live together with the people among whom they preach. They come to orphanages and teach English in educational institutions, arrange periodic meetings for those local residents who believe and have been baptized. And so gradually this work passes into the hands of the locals, who, of course, know their people, their customs and language better than any newcomers. This is exactly how things are in Simferopol.

I foresee the reaction of some readers: well, these are sectarians, these are the wrong bees, and they make the wrong honey (by the way, it is the bee that is depicted on the coat of arms of Simferopol). Of course, there are Orthodox churches there, divine services are held in them, and in general there is a normal diocesan life, as in other cities. If a Tatar comes to the church, no one will drive him away, and he will be able to buy books in the church in his own language. But I did not notice an active sermon addressed specifically to the Crimean Tatars there. Maybe he was not looking attentively.

They understand everything in Russian, of course, for some it is even their native language. Even the older generation understands Uzbek, after all, they lived in Uzbekistan, and now many have mastered Ukrainian... So, in fact, why do something special for them? Let them read the Bible in Russian, listen to the sermon in the same language, and if they are baptized, they will come to church and pray in Church Slavonic.

They, of course, can. And many can speak Uzbek, and even in Ukrainian, if they wanted to. In principle, it is also not difficult for us to understand Ukrainian, and if we practice, we would somehow master Uzbek, but for some reason the idea of giving up our native language does not come to our minds. So it is with them: if an "ethnic Muslim" (i.e., one who considers himself to belong to a certain faith by virtue of his origin) is given a book in Russian, and even with a cross on the cover, he rejects it outright. "It's not ours," he says, and he's quite right. Those signs and symbols that seem native and natural to us look like complete strangers to him. Let us recall how Russia reacted to Nikon's reforms, and these were only minor changes in the usual symbols. And even today, when believers see something unusual in worship and piety, "heresy" is the first word that rolls off their tongues.

But if you give an "ethnic Muslim" a book written in his native language and bearing no obvious symbols of a foreign religion, he is often ready to read it. After all, the Qur'an tells very little about the lives of the great prophets of antiquity: Ibrahim, Musa, Dawud, Suleiman, Yahya (John the Baptist) and Jesus, the son of Miryam. The only exception, by the way, is the story of Yusuf the Beautiful, who was sold by his brothers to Egypt - it is set out in the Koran quite completely, while the rest of the names are only mentioned in it. And if a Muslim wants to get acquainted with the history of the life of these people, the most natural thing for him is to open the Bible, especially since the Koran names among the holy books Taurat (Pentateuch), Zebur (Psalter) and Injil (Gospel).

Archimandrite Daniel (Bayantoro) said: "In any missionary work, we must have a thorough knowledge of the local culture and be able to speak within the boundaries of a given cultural language, because otherwise our word may not be heard and understood. So, when you talk to a Muslim, you have to understand the Muslim's mindset. Do not even try to use the terms familiar to a Christian, Orthodox concepts, because they will not be understood by a Muslim." What true words! Where did this missionary preach: in the Volga region, in the Caucasus or in Central Asia? No, Fr. Daniel works in Indonesia, where he was born. He also gave interviews in a non-Russian language, we read about his work in translations.

There are two extremes in mission for Muslims. The first is a principled and open confrontation, in the spirit of another Fr. Daniel (Sysoev). The sermon, in fact, begins with the words: "Your religion is false." I don't want to judge anyone, and I'm not going to say that this approach is basically fruitless, but it clearly won't work in most cases: the preacher will be kicked out after the first word, and no one will listen to others like him. Perhaps, in certain situations, for example, when a person in doubt compares two religions and turns to us with questions, maximum frankness and even a head-on collision will be useful, they will allow him to evaluate everything and make his choice. But such situations are clearly few.

The other extreme is camouflage: the preacher does not tell people anything about Christianity at all, acting as if from within Islam. He speaks of Jesus the Messih (Jesus Christ in Arabic), His ministry, His death, His resurrection. People gather on Fridays, pray to the Almighty, as they used to before, and even do not notice until a certain moment that they are invited to some completely new faith. True, it cannot be called completely Christian, since it is devoid of all Christian symbols, detached from the two-thousand-year-old tradition. Such a path is not for the Orthodox at all, this is understandable.

But as soon as we talk about specific things, there is less clarity. Let us take the most famous example, the expression "Son of God." For Muslims, it is like a red rag to a bull: it was explained to them long ago that Christians believe in three gods, one of whom was supposedly born from the marriage of another to an earthly woman, and they reject such paganism with indignation. As the same Fr. Daniel from Indonesia noted, a Muslim must first be completely dissuaded from such a picture, emphasizing the unity of God in every possible way and agreeing with them that the pagan myths about the birth of gods are false. And one should speak of Christ with him first of all as the Word of God, sent into the world for the sake of his salvation – he is much more inclined to accept such news, since he himself reveres the Word of God above all else on earth. Only for him it is the Koran, and for us it is Christ.

Some of the more radical proponents of this approach suggest that the Bible should abandon the phrase "Son of God" and replace it with expressions like "Chosen King." This is absolutely unacceptable for us, and, fortunately, no one has expressed such proposals in any of the projects I supervise – I would have rejected them outright. But the very existence of the problem makes us think: it turns out that our audience can be shocked by what we ourselves have long been accustomed to. In a conversation with Muslims, it turns out that it is necessary to take into account their moods and ideas, it is necessary to place other accents, to build the sermon differently. And this is tiring and unusual!