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!

What is the experience of our missionaries, especially those who grew up in an Islamic environment? I personally know one Uzbek priest, he received a solid theological education, was engaged in translating the liturgy into his native language. But whether his works are used in Tashkent, what happens to the mission there, what his experience teaches us in general – we know nothing about this, this topic, in fact, is not in demand in the church environment. He himself was converted somehow, became a priest – that's good, that's enough.

Why does this happen? I see two main reasons, and the first of them is socio-political. It is easy to come from America and preach, but if your own local diocese takes up this work, you can imagine what a protest it will cause... Not even for Muslim believers, in fact, no one will prevent them from going to the mosque and keeping uraza as before, but rather from those politicians who are actively playing the card of ethnic Islam. So, it turns out that we are not necessarily Muslims by birth, so then you are not all Orthodox? Is the centuries-old balance being disturbed?! The honest answer will be: yes, far from all, and what seemed unshakable has long been violated in our society, so now we need to give everyone a free and conscious choice. Only such an answer can come out of place.

But it's not just about politics. In explaining our faith to others who are different from us in their culture, worldview, and language, we will inevitably have to redefine the truths of faith for ourselves, and simply repeating pious phrases will not help, but will only hinder. We will have to separate the foundations of our faith, which are obligatory for all, from the external and folklore, and recognize the right of each people to build this external in its own way, as our ancestors once did (anyone who has been to Greece saw perfectly well that there is a difference in the way of life between Russians and Greeks, with complete unity in faith). And moreover: we will have to express these truths of faith to an unusual, unprepared audience, which is in no hurry to agree, but, on the contrary, asks extremely uncomfortable questions. Are we ready for this?

Now, it seems, they are not ready at all. Accusatory pathos addressed to Muslims, or Protestants, or the West, or everyone in general – after all, it sometimes comes from impotence, from the inability to explain the merits of one's faith. If I can't defend my own, I'll attack someone else's, prove (to myself, first of all) that everything is much worse for them than for us. But this is not missionary work at all. The purpose of a true evangelist is not to blaspheme someone else's, but to tell and show in practice what is so good about us.

And if we do not learn to do this in the very near future, we will have to come to terms with what is already becoming a reality in some Islamic regions of our country: Orthodoxy is understood there as the ethnic religion of Russians, and the supranational, worldwide idea of Christianity is associated almost exclusively with Protestantism. And it's not just about the Islamic context. Already in Siberia, the picture has become quite typical: in a small town there are one or two Orthodox churches and several Protestant communities. Yes, churches can be quite crowded, but if we count the residents of such a city who regularly attend Sunday services, then I think the figures for Protestants and Orthodox Christians will be comparable. But missionary activity among Protestants is an order of magnitude or two higher.

Perhaps one of the main reasons for our inaction and our complacency is that Orthodoxy in Russia seems to us to be something given once and for all, something that will not disappear and will diminish. In our lifetime, perhaps, it will be so. But we are Orthodox in order to think not in terms of the current moment, but in a historical perspective. The great churches of Antioch and Alexandria once seemed like such strongholds, and what about them now? Tiny Antakya on the outskirts of Turkey, small Copts in Egypt – they have survived, of course. But this is not the fate I would wish for my local Church.

The only Copt I know personally is a colleague of mine, who advises translation projects in the Middle East. Only he himself is a Protestant, and this does not surprise me at all.