'No Matter The Faith': East Ukraine Marks Epiphany Despite War Divide

Military medic Natalya carried a jug of water blessed by priests at the Sviatogirsk monastery in east Ukraine as she celebrated Orthodox Epiphany in a Russian-affiliated church, despite the war.

Ukrainians have largely moved away from the Ukrainian Orthodox Church (UOC) -- which sits under the Moscow Patriarchate -- since the invasion, with a majority now following a Kyiv-led Church that adheres to a different calendar.

But some still celebrate Epiphany on January 19, including followers of the UOC, threatened with a ban over its links with Moscow.

"A holiday is a holiday. No matter the faith," Natalya said, walking next to the monastery, riddled with shrapnel.

Like many near the eastern front, she found respite in the familiarity of religious rites.

"There's explosions here, bangs there, we always expect something bad. But now we just stood still, forgot about everything, and prayed to God," the 52-year-old said.

Some indulged in the traditional icy plunge, jumping from the monastery into the murky river that had marked the front line for much of 2022, before a Ukrainian counter-offensive.

"As a local you know everything here, where things fell, where battles took place," said Ruslan Zdelnik.

"Locals are not afraid!" he said, flushed as he emerged from the freezing water.

He dismissed the debate over which calendar Orthodox Ukrainians should follow -- it offered him the possibility to take the celebratory dip twice, rather than once.

The controversy over the status of the UOC shrouds the monastery in Sviatogirsk.

The Church has denounced the war and denies that it depends on Moscow.

It has however not carried out autocephaly, the process of formally breaking off from Moscow's leadership, despite Russian Orthodox leader Kirill calling the Kremlin's invasion a "holy war".

"Patriarch Kirill may make mistakes, he is a human being," the monastery's acting head Archimandrite Theophan told AFP in a rare interview.

"But he remains a patriarch."

Unless the Church distances itself further from Moscow in the coming months, it could be banned under a law passed in the Ukrainian parliament last year -- which opinion polls say has widespread support.

Asked whether he was afraid, Archimandrite Theophan pushed back.

"We haven't established our own rules, they've been set for thousands of year. These rules are sacred," he told AFP.

For Kyiv, the debate over religious affiliation goes beyond theology.

Ukraine's SBU security service arrested monastery head Metropolitan Arseniy, accusing him of tipping off Ukrainian positions to Russian forces.

The case is one among dozens opened against UOC clerics since the beginning of the war.

Archimandrite Theophan denies the accusations against the Metropolitan.

"Some forces are trying to divide our people," he told AFP, issuing a call for unity.

"What does the Bible say? Love God. And it says something you cannot imagine -- love your enemies."

That is far from a consensus position even within the UOC.

"Everyone during the service prays for peace as soon as possible, for our motherland Ukraine, that all enemies leave our land," said Father Sergiy, who said his congregation in the nearby town of Lyman had nothing to do with Moscow.

His congregation -- almost entirely elderly women -- had gathered for an Epiphany service in an underground part of the church, better protected from Russian bombardments.

Muffled explosions echoed throughout the service, audible above the chants and rattling of an incense burner intermittently waved by Father Sergiy.

"People who aren't afraid of something exploding right next to them simply don't exist," he said.

"Sometimes it feels like we've gotten used to it, and then sometimes less."

Shelling from renewed Russian attacks regularly cut power in Lyman, forcing Father Sergiy to use a battery-powered portable lamp to read the scripture.

He said he would leave if the situation deteriorated further, but wanted to stay for his community.

"These people who come to the church are also my family. I can't leave them, I can't abandon them," he said.

One of those, 72-year-old Liuda Storozhuk, had seen her apartment obliterated by a Russian strike.

She asked Father Sergiy how to restore an icon, inherited from her great-grandmother, that she had dug out from the ashes of her destroyed flat.

"Religion calms me," she said.

"I lie alone and think -- I am not alone, I have icons, God is with me. And I fall asleep."