
Shelagh Fogarty 1pm - 4pm
15 April 2025, 09:44
When Russia launched its full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022, it didn’t just redraw borders and shatter homes – it fractured churches.
Ukraine’s Protestant believers found themselves in a more complicated position. Their faith, often rooted in pacifism and the universality of brotherhood under God, was suddenly at odds with the brutal reality of war.
As Russian missiles fell and soldiers mobilized, some Protestants picked up rifles. Others held onto prayer and hesitated.
Protestantism in Ukraine, which includes Baptists, Pentecostals, and Seventh-day Adventists, saw a revival after the fall of the Soviet Union.
Today, Protestants make up around 2-4% of Ukraine’s population, but their influence, especially in central and western regions, has grown through missionary work, youth programs, and humanitarian aid.
Many of these churches have long emphasized peace, reconciliation, and service, making the pivot to wartime roles uncomfortable for some.
In a sign of the changing times for Ukrainian Evangelicals, Petro Dudnyk, pastor of the Evangelical Good News Church in Sloviansk, recently prayed before his congregation: “We bow to you, Lord. You are our only hope for our soldiers so that they protect our borders, that they stay strong in this fight.”
“The war has seriously forced Ukrainian Protestants to reflect on their historic pacifism,” said Eddie Priymak, a researcher who focuses on religion in Ukraine. “Although conservative denominations retain their pacifism, larger evangelical groups – such as Pentecostals, Baptists, and Seventh-Day Adventists – and Charismatics have been more open to scrutinizing this teaching.”
Some churches now provide seminars on just-war theory, discuss patriotic slogans, and encourage Christians to become active members of society.
“Although pastors don't generally urge their congregants to take up arms, they permit individuals to make this decision based on their conscience,” Priymak explained.
“Some Protestants have taken the call and joined the Armed Forces, others have become chaplains, volunteers, or travel abroad to advocate for aid and support for Ukraine.”
Priymak noted that internal divisions remain. “In general, many churches are split half-and-half between those who are pacifists and those who aren't,” he said.
“But all are urged not to be passive but to be active members of society.” The shift is significant for a community that has historically prioritized service over confrontation.
“From an outsider’s perspective, evangelicals might be seen as only those who provide humanitarian service,” he added. “But to an insider, the steps they have taken to get away from their pacifism are noteworthy.”
Russia’s war against Ukraine is not just about territory, it’s also a spiritual and historical crusade rooted in centuries of imperial mythmaking.
Serhii Plokhy’s book "The Russo-Ukrainian War: The Return of History", describes how the myth of Russia as the rightful heir to Kyivan Rus dates back to Ivan the Terrible's era.
This narrative, promoted through the Russian Orthodox Church and reinforced by the myth of “Moscow as the Third Rome,” casts Russia as the spiritual center of Eastern Orthodoxy.
By absorbing the legacy of Kyivan Rus, renaming Muscovy as the “Russian Empire,” and suppressing Ukrainian culture and language, Russia has long sought to erase Ukraine’s identity to maintain religious and historical dominance. Putin’s framing of Ukraine as part of Russia’s “spiritual space” reflects this tradition, one that blends Orthodox messianism with geopolitical conquest.
The Russian Orthodox Church plays a central role in this mission. It serves the Kremlin by glorifying the war, pacifying the population, and justifying aggression as spiritual duty. But it also wants a monopoly on religion.
The Russian Orthodox Church blesses Putin’s war, and in return, he helps destroy Ukraine’s religious landscape, especially targeting Protestant communities.
These churches, with their decentralized structure and grassroots networks, are seen as harder to control and religious minorities often viewed with suspicion or labeled as spies. In the occupied territories, the Wall Street Journal reported that Russia is trying to erase evangelical churches.
For the Kremlin, these communities represent both a spiritual threat and a political one: they are too numerous to ignore and too independent to easily subdue.
The Russian Orthodox Church is deeply connected with Russia’s war machine as it is “betting on Putin’s tanks to preserve the institution of the church throughout the fallen empire.” Ukraine's security services claim the Russian Orthodox Church operates private military companies (PMC) to train fighters for Russia’s war in Ukraine. They allege the Church is funded by groups close to Putin, disguising such funds as donations for "church construction."
Not only did Kirill, the Moscow patriarch, bless Russia's invasion but he himself previously served as a KGB spy in the 1970s. He also promised Russian soldiers who died in Ukraine that their "sacrifice washes away all sins." The Russian Orthodox Church has played a central role in blessing the war against Ukraine and securing the backing of the Russian people.
According to the Center for Strategic and International Studies, since Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, its forces have damaged or destroyed at least 660 religious sites, including more than 200 Protestant churches.
But Russia’s first invasion in 2014 also marked the beginning of religiously motivated killings in the war. In Sloviansk, a city seized by Russian-backed militants, they unleash terror on the Protestant community, murdering four members of a Pentecostal church. “They were tortured and killed along with two other church deacons after being taken by pro-Russian militia following a church service.
Their crime? Being Protestant and supporting Ukraine,” said Mikhail Pavenko. VICE News journalist Simon Ostrovsky reported that the victims may have also been murdered simply so that the militants could steal their cars.
Among those murdered in Sloviansk was Viktor Bradarskiy. However, his son Ivan Bradarskiy is still in Sloviansk, continuing to do ministry and supporting Ukrainian soldiers where he can. "From my observations since 2022, the Ukrainian church has begun to view the teachings of the Bible from a different perspective," said Bradarskiy, reflecting on the spiritual shifts brought on by the war.
"Previously, a significant portion of the church was skeptical about military service and held a firm stance on the issue of killing."
"But after Russia attacked Ukraine," he continued, "many churches came to realize that killing for ambition or pleasure and killing in defense are two vastly different things. People began to take a deeper interest in the Word of God, and its interpretation has become much more thoughtful and intentional."
Still, he acknowledged that divisions persist within the religious community. "Of course, there are those today who refrain from even raising the topic of killing. Their position is clear that killing is a sin. So instead, they focus on providing humanitarian or spiritual assistance, primarily to the civilian population."
That same year, as Russian forces covertly entered eastern Ukraine, they were accompanied not only by special forces and mercenaries but also by self-styled "Orthodox warriors."
These fighters, many affiliated with Russian nationalist and religious movements, viewed the conflict as a holy war to defend the "Russian World" (Russkiy Mir) and Orthodox Christian values against Western liberalism and Ukrainian sovereignty. Groups like the Russian Orthodox Army emerged in Donbas, blending religious zeal with military aggression.
Among those moved to act was Mr. Pavenko, a Ukrainian-American Protestant born in Donetsk Oblast, after several of his relatives were killed by Russian-backed forces.
In response, he returned to Ukraine and, in 2015, began serving as a volunteer chaplain on the front lines. “There are overwhelmingly more Orthodox chaplains but the protestant chaplains are gaining numbers in the ranks also,” said Pavenko.
Following Russia’s full-scale invasion, attitudes within Ukraine’s Protestant community have noticeably shifted. “The pacifistic view has definitely gone down, especially the closer you get to the front, I’d say,” Pavenko remarked, reflecting on how the brutal realities of war have challenged long-held theological stances.
Ruslan Dobrytskyi, call sign "Mj.Pain", a platoon commander in the unmanned systems battalion of the 23rd Separate Mechanized Brigade, said he initially served as an instructor, training soldiers to be more effective on the battlefield and better preserve the lives of infantry units. “When I joined the Armed Forces, I knew the knowledge I had was desperately needed,” he explained. Guided by conversations with his pastor and fellow church members, he added, “How can a person call themselves a Christian if they walk past violence and do nothing?”
Dobrytskyi said the war has transformed Ukraine’s Protestant churches, prayers are deeper, faith feels stronger, and many of his fellow believers now serve as chaplains, medics, and soldiers. “The apostles condemned ‘lukewarm’ churches,” he said. “The cruelty I witnessed from Russia made it clear: I could not stand aside.” Despite the personal cost, leaving behind his family, work, and church, his congregation has supported him every step of the way, providing gear, vehicles, and constant prayer. “I am a Protestant, from a charismatic church,” he said. “And I believe we are defending the home God gave us.”
Pasha (“Bilyash”), a soldier who previously served in the 115th Brigade before transferring to the 110th and fought in battles like Siverskodonetsk, has a distinct perspective on Protestants, shaped by his Greek Catholic upbringing and interactions with Ukrainian Protestants.
“It’s important to understand that Protestant churches are categorically against defending one’s native land with weapons in hand,” Pasha says. “They truly blur human identity, specifically national identity.”
“Protestant churches instruct their followers on whom to vote for and whom to categorically reject in elections,” he continues. “This contrasts with the Catholic and Orthodox churches, which do not interfere in the electoral process. During their gatherings, they only pray for citizens to make the right and worthy choice.”
“To me, Protestant churches are a tool for manipulating large groups of people and their consciousness, unfortunately not in the interests of preserving the national or cultural identity of a particular nation.”
“All Protestant churches completely erase people’s national identity, covering it with the idea that ‘all people are under God.’ They have never openly condemned Russia’s armed invasion of Ukraine. Instead, they embrace Russians and say that we are all brothers.”
Pasha further added: “I am a Catholic, but I have never argued with people of other religions, not even with Muslims or Buddhists. We were taught to respect the religions of other peoples. In Dnipro, my neighbors are Protestants. I had many interactions with them during peacetime at work.”
And he recalls a specific wartime encounter that stuck with him: “In 2015, there was a Protestant in my battalion when we were fighting in the Avdiivka industrial zone. He categorically refused to take up arms. He didn’t even have a rifle registered in his military ID, but he worked as a mechanic and repaired vehicles.”
“If Ukraine were a 100% Protestant state, it wouldn’t last more than a few days,” Pasha said. “Their faith forbids defending your home, your family, and your country with weapons.”
Others see the Protestant commitment to nonviolence as a spiritual asset rather than a strategic flaw. “In some circles, it's possible that Ukrainians are not seen as overly patriotic,” Priymak noted. “Certain denominations that make nonviolence an essential teaching have retained their close connections with Russian evangelicals. Additionally, most evangelicals did not chant slogans such as ‘Slava Ukraini’ due to the belief that they detracted from God’s glory, though the slogan has begun gaining acceptance within the community.”
As the war grinds on, Ukraine’s Protestant communities continue to wrestle with the moral weight of taking up arms, an act that challenges the pacifist foundations of their faith. But with Protestant churches among the primary targets of Russia’s campaign of cultural and religious erasure, believers like Mr. Dobrytskyi feel they no longer have the luxury of standing aside. For them, the choice is no longer between war and peace, but between silence and survival.
David Kirichenko is an Associate Research Fellow at the Henry Jackson Society.
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