Leona T. Gustaff

Religion in Lithuania: Death and Resurrection (1940-1991)

Leona T. Gustaff is a contributing writer for BRIDGES and lives in Frederick, Maryland.

On February 14,1999 Lithuanian Americans in Baltimore, Maryland and the vicinity were holding their yearly celebration of the Independence of Lithuania. A dinner of chicken, potato sausage, dark rye bread, cabbage and other mixtures of American and old country foods took place in the Lithuanian restaurant on Hollins Street. After the dinner, everyone gathered in the large hall on the second floor to be entertained with ancestral traditions by dancers, singers, and speakers.

Two tall handsome young men—strangers to most of us—were circulating the hall. They greeted the public in perfect native Lithuanian language. As they approached us we learned they were seminarians from that nation whose freedom we were celebrating. I was mystified that even though they had spent their youthful days during the years of the Soviet occupation of Lithuania, they had selected the priesthood for their vocation.

I had learned that during the occupation, the Communists had made every effort to eradicate the Catholic faith in the country. Priests and the religious community were persecuted, churches were desecrated, and the teaching of religion by the church was forbidden.

In the 1930s religion flourished in Lithuania; 95.5% of the citizens were Catholic. The remaining inhabitants were divided between Protestant, Jewish, and Russian Orthodox faiths. Freedom of worship existed. Clergy were exempted from military service and received a small salary from the state government.

 

In 1940 Russia invaded the country and attempted to destroy the presence of Catholicism. Almost a year later, in June 1941, the Germans forced the Soviet army to leave Lithuania.

 

In 1944 Russia invaded Lithuania a second time and began the process of eradicating Catholicism all over again. Church property was confiscated - salaries and pensions denied to clergymen. The Soviets banished the Religious Rites of Marriage and Baptism by priests, and proclaimed that the acts of Holy Eucharist and Confirmation were illegal and superstitious. Priests and nuns were assaulted, imprisoned, and even murdered for their religious work. Many were exiled to Siberia.

 

The Red Army took over buildings, monasteries, and rectories. Some churches were turned into warehouses; their beautiful interiors stripped bare. Pictures, sculptures, stained glass panels—some dating back to the fifteenth to the eighteenth centuries—were destroyed. The Cathedral in Vilnius became a picture gallery; St. Casimir’s Church (Šv. Kazimiero Bažnycia) was turned into a Museum of Atheism. In Kaunas, the Benedictine Church stored old books from the Kaunas library, and St. Francis Xavier Church was a bookstore at first, and later, a gymnasium. Adults who continued to practice their religion lost their jobs.

 

The Soviets believed that the church kept the Lithuanian population from accepting Communist atheistic ideology. They also saw that the older generation would be difficult to convert; so, they decided to emphasize their propaganda to the youth. The Soviets banned the teaching of religion in schools and removed all crucifixes and sacred items from classrooms. They destroyed religious shops, bookstores, and publications, and would not permit religion lessons in churches or private homes. The Communist regime forced teachers to teach that Catholicism was idolatrous.

Kestutis Kevalas and Mindaugas Puronas, the two Lithuanian seminarians, had lived and grown up during the time when Soviet Atheism dominated Christian faith and education. Students of Kaunas Interdiocesan Catholic Seminary in Lithuania, they had been sent to the United States by His Excellency Bishop Sigitas Tamkevičius, S.J., Bishop of Kaunas. Kestutis and Mindaugas had received scholarships for foreign country travel and education available to Eastern European Seminarian students who were willing to return to help rebuild the Roman Catholic Church in their land. This honor was given by the U.S. National Conference of Catholic Bishops through the Office of Aid to the Catholic Church in Central and Eastern Europe. Cardinal Keeler, of the Baltimore Archdiocese, had invited them to study at St. Mary’s Seminary and University in Baltimore, Maryland.

I was introduced to the two tall, mannerly, young men who appeared athletic enough to be desirable candidates for basketball teams. They spoke English well with a slight Lithuanian accent, occasionally uttering a word or phrase which was a direct translation and a little archaic to the native American ear. I wondered how Russian atheism affected their religious faith. I wanted to know how their desires to enter the priesthood had emerged during a scarcity of sacred literature and especially when many members of the Catholic clergy were not permitted to perform their priestly duties.

As we spoke together I heard the story of a nation devoted to a Catholic religion they could not forsake. I learned about their struggles for freedom to worship. I felt their suffering, their dangers, their courage, their determination, and finally, their triumphs.

"My parents always went to church," Kestutis began. "My mother was an accountant for the government and my father was a water supply supervisor. They were not politically employed, so they were free to go to church."

"My parents were practicing Catholics but didn’t go to church," Mindaugas added. "My father was a policeman who hid his religious affiliations from the Proletariat in order to keep his job. But my parents always celebrated the traditional church feast days, especially Christmas Eve. I also remember that father used to listen to the radio to the ‘Voice of America’."

Mindaugas’ father was born in Pandelys in the Aukštaitija region of Northeast Lithuania; his mother in Kalvarija. At a very young age, she was exiled with her family to Siberia where she spent many years. In 1953 when Stalin died, she was liberated and returned to Lithuania.

"It was a blessing that my mother was able to return to her country. Many Lithuanians died in the icy tundra of that strange land where they were forced to live in exile," said Mindaugas.

Communist officials had married his parents in the Town Hall in Kaunas. They secretly traveled to Pandelys to have a sacred ceremony performed by a priest in a Catholic Church. Unfortunately, a neighbor or friend must have informed the KGB who interrogated them. Mindaugas’ father evaded the marriage question by announcing, "I like the beer in Pandelys."

"My brother, sister, and I were also baptized in the church in Pandelys. This probably occurred about 2 or 3 A.M.; since many baptisms and weddings were held in the middle of the night or in the early hours of the morning", said Mindaugas. He went on to explain that Pastors of Churches kept two different sets of books to register information about baptisms, marriages and other religious functions: one for the Communists and a true one for Church records.

The Soviets declared how many baptisms could take place. For instance, priests were allowed fifty baptisms a year, and encouraged to perform less than the quota. This was tragic to a nation of people who had strong desires to save their strong faith and long cherished traditions.

Soviet officers would also suddenly and without notice enter the rectory during the night and announce, "Sorry, Father, but we need to make a little order in your Church." They would perform a ‘Krata’, a search for or requisition of forbidden materials about Lithuanian or church history. Seminarians and priests were allowed to teach or learn only about the Socialist Republic. To study Lithuanian history was denied.

Kestutis story was a little different. Although his parents went to Church, he was ashamed to accompany them, and they did not pressure him. In school, students were told that it was disastrous to go to Church and, most of all, he could not then be a Pioneer. It was important to be a member of the Pioneer group, which is similar to a Boy Scout troop in the U.S.A. except that allegiance was proclaimed to the atheistic Soviet system. All his young friends were in that organization. He was embarrassed that his friends or even his teacher might see him attending Church services, and they would call him to task that he was disobedient to his government. Kestutis had difficulty trying to decide whom to listen—his parents or the teacher. It was not possible to know the truth; so, sometimes he listened to his parents and at other times he listened to the teacher.

Kestutis was 12 years old when he began his religious education. "One day," he said, "My mother told me that I needed to attend classes in Religion and prepare for the Eucharist. I didn’t know what Eucharist meant. I had no idea what it was but because my parents said it was necessary, I agreed."

"My first introduction to God was from a nun," Kestutis continued. "She told us she was in danger teaching about God—that she faced prison or exile to Siberia. There were 20 students in the class. We had to discipline ourselves. We each came to this secret house at a different time. For instance, my time was 5:10 P.M. Two other students came at 5:15, and so on. We each left at different times and were told not to stop and talk to each other but to disperse quickly. It was exciting to go to a secret house, be taught by a secret teacher, and do something that was forbidden by the government. We were too young to recognize the danger, but we were careful to obey all rules. The nun prepared us for Reconciliation, Eucharist, and Confirmation. For the first time I was introduced to the Faith by a professional and an interesting instructor."

"My teacher closed the shades in the house," Kestutis went on to say. "She’d begin the lesson by telling stories about Christians who were true to their faith, and how some soldiers refused to remove the crosses from their necks."

"This education by the nun changed my religious life. Although I didn’t attend mass very often, I prayed privately—little prayers in mornings and evenings, and once in a while the rosary. The ideology of the government schools presented an inner conflict within me, but I became more convinced of the truth of religious values."

"I remember the David and Goliath story from the Bible," Mindaugas interrupted. "In my group there were only ten students but it was also secret."

"We went to the home of an elderly woman who lived alone in two rooms. She allowed us to use one of them. She was at great risk because the government forbade group meetings, as well as religion classes. The Communists feared revolutions and insurrections. They were suspicious of peaceful movements or meetings."

Although education was secret, worship wasn’t. But worship could only take place in the Church. Old people and children attended services regularly. Mindaugas’ grandparents took him to daily Mass. Kestutis’ parents took him to Church every Sunday and Church holidays. During the Holy Days, especially Christmas and Easter, many Lithuanians attended mass. The priest would put loud speakers outside the building to accommodate the many attendees who could not get into the church.

The middle class in the nation did not attend church services. They were afraid they would lose their jobs, and that their friends and neighbors would be afraid to associate with them or confide in them.

On January 12, 1941, many seminary buildings were confiscated and seminarians were taught in churches or in private homes. By 1944, the Kaunas Seminary was the only one remaining in Lithuania. The number of seminarians was limited to one hundred and fifty, and decreased gradually each year until only 25 remained. Professors and seminarians, one after the other, were arrested and exiled from the country. Until 1989 the Seminary consisted of only one building, the Department of Religious Matters. "Communists kept it for flavor, to show that the country had freedom. But Lithuanians knew they were limited and persecuted for their belief in God," said Kestutis.

Mindaugas told me that two of his friends tried desperately for five years to enter the seminary. Algis Budaitis, another acquaintance, waited seven years. Communists refused to give the necessary permission. No one could help the young men—not even bishops.

"Only young men who were accepted by representatives of the Soviet government could study to be priests. There was a list of items that would not permit you to enter the seminary. For instance, you traveled abroad earlier; your family was in the underground movement; you yourself were suspicious; you had YELLOW literature at home (literature that was Lithuanian and not Communist). Any or all items, which were mostly false, would be charged against you. All this was done to keep the young men from becoming seminarians," Mindaugas offered.

"The Soviets would organize meetings and conferences with speakers on Atheism. Seminarians had to be enthusiastic—cheer and clap when they were told they would create a New World. In the back of the room members of the political party would monitor the response of the groups. Those who did not applaud were apprehended. Some were relieved of their studies and banished from the Seminary," Mindaugas continued.

St. Casimir Church in Vilnius converted to a Museum of Atheism. From The War Against God in Lithuania by Dr. J. Savasis (New York; Manyland Books, Inc.; 1966).

An article in the Lithuanian Newspaper, TIESA (The Truth) on August 19,1956 had reported: "It is imperative that lectures be given in every factory, office and farm, in order that the immortal ideas of Marxism and Leninism spread enlightenment among the workers."

Communists did not stop there. When a young man became a seminarian he was approached and requested to involve himself in becoming a KGB agent. The young student was promised a large parish, a lovely home, and a good salary. He had to sign a paper that would say he was an agent in the seminary. In return he had to spy on other students, priests, and professors, and report their actions to the governing political party. Mindaugas was embarrassed to say that some seminarians and priests did sign their names to this controversial paper. He maintained that they sold themselves for a foolish and eventually unrewarding task.

An underground Seminary came into existence. Very often the meetings between students and professors took place at nighttime when they would meet secretly in homes and churches in different cities and villages. Those who were fortunate enough to finish their studies and become ordained were generally sent to the Missions, especially to Siberia, by the Bishop. Most of them returned to their native land after Lithuania won its freedom.

Some active priests gave retreats in the forests for secret Catholic organizations. They would meet in a small house in the woods. Occasionally they were discovered. Bishop Sigitas Tamkevičius was apprehended and sent to Siberia for ten years.

Kestutis was 17 years old in 1989, the year that some freedom of expression was permitted even though Lithuania was still under Communist rule. He entered the tenth form (grade) and was taught religion by a priest. The Catholic religion became interesting to him. "I was confused," he confessed. He spent an entire year searching religious literature for words about God. "I desperately looked for something to read.’

Mindaugas was two years older than Kestutis. His did not have the good fortune to have a priest teach him religion. Education was still under Communist domination when he entered secondary school. "I remember the slogans we were taught in primary and secondary schools," Mindaugas began. "Lenin introduced, Mokytis, mokytis ir dar karta mokytis. (Study, study, and study some more.) He also promoted the concept that cinema was the best art. Lenin’s words were considered sacred and were accepted like revelations from God."

"Teachers taught that there was no God. The Communist government forced teachers to teach atheistic views, such as no God, the Old World is dying, and you will live in a New World."

In the book Eyewitness: Writings From the Ordeal of Communism, authors Ross McKenzie and Todd Culbertson wrote: "For every single one of us, Stalin was greater than God, a reality in which it was impossible not to believe; he thought for us, he was our savior, he was responsible for our happy childhood." (p. 132)

Before 1989 Soviet rules were strict and difficult to obey. The outside world had been kept in ignorance of the terrible sacrifices, inhuman treatment, and the hindrances placed before the Christian faith. By 1991, through many struggles, Lithuania regained its independence. In spite of the intense suffering Lithuanians encountered under Communist occupation, many remained united in their love of country and loyal to their Christian faith.

In the summer of 1992, when he was 20 years old, suddenly and unexpectedly Kestutis began to feel a true vocation to the priesthood. "I received a huge explosion of feelings to God and to the church."

He was watching a Catholic program on television and saw a Bishop invite young Lithuanian men to be students at the seminary and become candidates for the priesthood. He was moved by the words of the Bishop and he could not be apathetic to God’s call.

He followed his hunger, went into the Charismatic movement (a newly introduced spiritual program), joined the Ateitininkai (an intellectual Catholic youth group), and attended religious summer camps and seminars. Nobody ever encouraged him; perhaps, only as a joke – "Kestutis, you should be a priest". He began to have thoughts that he should be a priest.

In the summer of 1993 Kestutis and Mindaugas entered the Kaunas Interdiocesan Catholic Priest Seminary. "We were fortunate. These were blessed years, no big tensions, no persecutions. We had the means to go and do [our duties]." Freedom opened doors and encouraged young men to study for the priesthood.

Kestutis and Mindaugas will go back to their country after their studies are completed in the United States. They are obliged to return to their beloved nation, but they also are anxious to return. Their stay at St. Mary’s Seminary and University in Baltimore, Maryland will last three years.

Soviet Atheism does not exist in Lithuania anymore. Lithuania now has freedom of worship. Lithuanians can read the words of the Bible and celebrate religious holidays. The words of God can be spoken in classrooms; the faith can be taught in churches, schools and homes. Priests can preside at marriages, baptisms, and burials. Lithuanians are free to live without fear.

When Kestutis and Mindaugas return they will find a different nation. As Lithuanians are beginning to attend church services without fear of retaliation, a shortage of priests exists. It has not been an easy return to the practice of their religion for many citizens. Some, especially those born and raised during the atheistic regime, are finding it difficult to turn to Catholicism after being led to believe that Communism was the world’s most progressive doctrine. Not everyone had received religious education and training from the church to make it desirable to express a relationship to God. A scarcity of Lay person involvement prevails.

Before these seminarians arrived here, their general picture of America was of people always smiling. Lithuanian citizens believe that Americans smile just to be polite. In correspondence to Mindaugas, his Lithuanian friends inquired, "How will you put together the speed of American life with Lithuanian reflections on life?"

"American people are generous and not as suspicious as Lithuanians. There is no basis for distrust of strangers or friends in America. During the Communist years, we never knew to whom we were speaking, especially if it was an unknown person who might publicize something dangerous and false about our relationship with the Communist Government. People learned not to smile, not to show their feelings. That’s why we are so cold," said Mindaugas. "There is a sharp change in Lithuania now. The face of the country has changed. There are new streets, new stores, people are more content."

As I prepared to leave, Kestutis said to me, "When we return to our country we shall speak the truth about America. We shall tell about the generosity of the people and the absence of suspicion." Mindaugas nodded his approval.

Kestutis Kevalas and Mindaugas Puronas, with the help of God and their many friends in the United States and other continents, will join the other young countrymen who are answering the call to the priesthood—to rebuild the Catholic faith in Lithuania.