Toward Integrity and Integration of the Church(es) Relating to the State in the Secularized Cultural Context of Estonian Society

Abstract

Classical paradigms of the church-state relations may be reflected in how the church has tried to work and live out her integrity in different cultural-political contexts. The churches in Estonia have envisioned Christian integrity in relation to the state differently in different times and stages of societal and cultural development. One could distinguish the following four types of relationships: the conflict, the harmony, the two kingdoms, and the social servanthood. This article will focus on the characteristics of these relationship paradigms along with some personal, communal, and ecumenical examples in the sense of integrity of Estonian church-life from the last century to the present day when social servanthood seems to be most relevant.

1. Introduction

“In the history of the Christian church, the issue of the relation between church and state surfaced with new urgency during the seismic political shifts”, says an Estonian expert in patristics, Tarmo Toom (2020, p. 65). It seems so beyond the early church discussions in his concern (Funk 2006). Old questions come alive, again, in new contexts (Kovalenko 2022; Minarik 2020; Romocea 2011; Marsh and Zhong 2010). One could see it also in “the seismic political shifts” in Estonian society toward the end of the 20th and in the beginning of the 21st century. Classical paradigms of the church-state relations1 may be reflected in how the church has tried to work and live out her integrity2 in the best possible ways in different cultural–political contexts.3 So the Christian church in Estonian historical-denominational appearances—denoted as church(es) below—envisioned Christian integrity in relation to the state differently in different times and stages of societal and cultural development (Kilp 2012). One could distinguish the following four types of relationships: the conflict, the harmony, the two kingdoms, and the social servanthood. This article will focus on the characteristics of these relationship paradigms along with some personal, communal, and ecumenical examples in the sense of integrity of Estonian church-life from the last century up to the present day.

2. Integrity in Conflict

I was born into an Estonian family of baptistic faith during the Soviet totalitarian atheistic occupation regime. We were considered dissidents by the logic of control of the KGB. Our phone calls were tapped and recorded. Our life was followed. My father, Aamo Remmel, had been expelled from Tartu University medical faculty because of his proclamation of faith. The KGB was concerned and reported about his sermons in different cities and towns and declared his religious convictions to be fanatical along with other believing students (Rahvusarhiiv n.d., p. 35). My mother, Viivi Remmel, was a typist who secretly printed Christian books at home—five copies at a time through copy paper. So I knew from childhood with my older brother and two younger sisters how the truthful church(es) opposed the occupation regime of the Soviet state and its ideology in culture.

In my personal experience, this confrontation culminated in 1985 when I was forced to serve in the Soviet army near Volgograd (formerly Stalingrad), Russia. There I was interrogated for days and nights until the KGB officer pointed his revolver at my head and demanded renouncement of my faith. I never submitted. Instead, I argued for my integrity and religious freedom officially recognized in the Soviet Constitution. At the same time, the young man alone in the middle of Russia realized the irreconcilable contradiction between the Kingdom of light and the kingdom of darkness, the church and the state persecuting believers.

The Bible and its teachings from home and the children’s Sunday school and youth work, officially forbidden but secretly organized by the church, had prepared us to resist and stand firm in the faith knowing “that the family of believers throughout the world is undergoing the same kind of sufferings” (1 Pet 5:9, New International Version [NIV]). Jesus and his apostles along with the persecuted early church embodied the virtue–ethical examples to be followed by the 16th century radical Reformers as well as by ourselves toward the end of the 20th century in Estonia.4 Our sense of integrity was developing and sharpening in a conflicting state as we practiced our personal and communal life of faith and virtue of character both in our primary and secondary theology.5 We aimed to follow Jesus in his example and teaching: “In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven”. (Matt 5:16, NIV).

The model of integrity following Jesus in such a context meant to be faithful and faith-full to the kingdom of light under the Lordship of Christ opposing the kingdom of darkness under the oppression of evil. It might well be reflected in the final conversation between my father in his young age and his academic dean in his age proposing him to keep his student status in the university if only promising publicly to withdraw from the church while privately still able to attend the church if wanted. My father responded: “I could never promise something I would never keep!” The dean concluded: “I am sorry for you leaving the university for such naive convictions…” (Remmel and Remmel 2007, p. 32).

So there was a disintegrity regime in the state suppressing and challenging the people of faith who were standing for their religious freedom and convictions concerning their communal character and ethics of integrity. The integrity for believers was measured up by the biblical narrative as the one and only authoritative text. And it was telling a promising story—as the tensional hope (Moltmann 1993, 2008; Meeks 2018)—that such a regime would not last forever. One just could not imagine “how long, O Lord…” (Rev 6:10, NIV). But the overall scene in the society changed suddenly in the late 1980s.6

3. Integrity in Harmony or Balance of the Two Kingdoms?

After the Chernobyl disaster in 1986, the Soviet system of lies began to shake and disintegrate while the Communist leader, Mikhail Gorbachev, tried to keep the empire in its integrity by so called Glasnost (meaning best “transparency”) and Perestroika (meaning “re-building”).7 It opened a field to the Estonian environmentalist campaign, called the Phosphorite War (Fosforiidisõda in Estonian). It was raising up against the Soviet planned economy secrets to develop large and polluting phosphorite mines in Estonia, which led to the so-called Estonian Heritage Protection Movement (Muinsuskaitse liikumine in Estonian) and finally to the so-called Singing Revolution (Laulev revolutsioon in Estonian) (Laar 2004; Subrenat 2004). The churches were found, again, as the carriers of historical memory and heritage, and the integrity of the church(es) was recognized across Estonian society (Parman et al. 1995; Remmel 2001). The Bible and biblical stories reflected in the Western and Estonian art and music were introduced in public schools and media. I was personally involved, too, using my background and opportunity as a student from Tartu University going from school to school with the old Estonian version of La Grande Bible de Tours showing 226 wood-engravings by Gustave Doré and telling the biblical stories to the students (Jumala Püha Sõna. Suur Piibel 1938). The national–political revival movement was in harmony with the churches and their leaders showing the way forward. Estonian national folk songs and spiritual folk songs were sung side by side by both church and secular choirs. The long-lasting Estonian song festival tradition, growing out of the church choral singing, prepared the way for singing out and envisioning the hope for a free nation on a free land. Estonian artist Heinz Valk, then, coined the term Singing Revolution and its slogan: “One day, no matter what, we will win!” (Ükskord me võidame niikuinii in Estonian) (Vogt 2005, pp. 20–36). In Estonian ears it sounded in harmony with the Baptist vision of Martin Luther King’s “I Have a Dream!” (McClendon 1990, pp. 47–66). In a few years, the churches positioned themselves from conflict to harmony in their self-understanding, sense of integrity, and relationship to the wider society and its political ambitions. Two narratives, the national one and the biblical one, somehow joined together into one spiritual whole, at least so in our minds and hearts. And in the music. The Old Testament story of calling and sending the prophet Jonah became a symbolic national story. The oratory Jonah’s Mission, created and presented by the Estonian composer, Rudolf Tobias, first in 1909 in Leipzig, Germany, and then re-created and re-presented in 1989 in Tallinn, Estonia, resonated with the cultural identity and society fighting against the foreign political dictation (Rumessen 2008).

At the same time, as a young Christian student leader I found myself in the middle of leadership meetings of the Estonian Christian Society (Eesti Kristlik Liit in Estonian), established in 1988 and then divided into two different organizations in 1989: the Estonian Christian Democratic Union to become a political party led by some Lutheran pastors, and the Estonian Christian Association to become an apolitical socially active ecumenical organization. As I was proposed to join the political party, too (and later also by other political parties), I did not accept the offer. As a Baptist youth leader in the Estonian Lutheran cultural tradition, I leaned rather toward the teachings of Martin Luther himself (cf. Luther 1520, 1523; Nygren 2002; Beeke 2011).8 His balancing approach between the two kingdoms—God’s and human, Christ and culture, church(men) and state(men), heavenly and earthly citizens, prophetic and political in the mission—guided me along with the other priests and pastors and leaders of the Estonian churches to avoid direct involvement in politics. Yet, there were many pastors, again mainly from the Lutheran background, but also from the baptistic churches, who became involved both in the social and political life of Estonia, especially in the local level elections and governments. Most of them felt uncomfortable in politics later and withdrew themselves from political activity (or few from their service in the church) since Estonia regained its independence again in 1991, and the political life was expecting more and more professional expertise and full-time commitment (Remmel and Rohtmets 2021). According to the Constitution, Estonia was identified as “an independent and sovereign democratic republic” with a parliamentary democracy, and without a state church, just as it had been also before the Soviet occupation (Republic of Estonia 1992, §1, §40, §59–65; Altnurme 2009; Kiviorg 2001).

Now, the “timeless and inalienable” “independence and sovereignty of Estonia” was to “guarantee the preservation of the Estonian people, the Estonian language and the Estonian culture through the ages” (Republic of Estonia 1992, §1). Different churches were empowered to live and serve freely in the free society and organized themselves to “cooperate for the spiritual development of Estonian society based on Christian principles” (Eesti Kirikute Nõukogu n.d.). On this vision the Estonian Council of Churches was formed in 1989. Since then, it has integrated ten major Christian denominations in ecumenical cooperation for serving Estonian society in different times, needs, and spheres of life.9 In relation to the state, the Estonian Council of Churches has become a balancing dialogue partner to the government concerning religious and/or ethical questions as well as legislative initiatives in the Parliament or governmental ministries (Eesti Vabariigi Valitsuse ja Eesti Kirikute Nõukogu ühishuvide protokoll 2002; Reinsalu 2019). Here, the voice of the church(es) has not always been in harmony with the state and the developments in society. For instance, I have had to represent the Council in the Parliament commissions debating about some ethically dividing legislative initiatives in the society, such as a definition of marriage, sexual partnership, or surrogate motherhood. A sense of integrity, shaped by the authoritative texts and historically extended practices of the church(es), has had to guide and tune the voice of the Christian community relating to different political agendas, parties, and governments.10 The “two kingdoms” paradigm may be heard in different messages of the church(es) to the public society and policy makers in Estonia when the critical or positive proposals have been expressed with prophetic overtones for a better and sound Estonian society both from the human and godly perspective.11

4. Integrity in Social Servanthood

A few weeks before Estonia regained its independence in August 1991, I had become the pastor of the first Baptist church in Tallinn, established in 1884 and located in a poor area of the Estonian capital.12 In just a few months, as soon as the “cold winter in Estonia from, 1991 to, 1992” had arrived, the freedom fighters’ slogan that “we are willing to eat even potato skins, the main thing is that we are free” became a real life experience (Vadi 2018). Our people were suddenly in an urgent need for all sorts of humanitarian help. The Soviet Union, along with its economic ties, was gone. The newly developing free market economy was not working yet for the people either. Many did not have work, money, food, or energy to warm up their homes. Our church, just as any other church who received lorries bringing packages of food and clothing from the sister churches in Scandinavia and Western Europe, was integrated into the local community by providing humanitarian help to all in critical need.

In, 1992, when the war broke out between Georgia and Abkhazia, the Estonian Migration Board evacuated native Estonians from Abkhazia, whose ancestors had emigrated and established the Estonian villages there during the Russian Empire in the 1880s.13 Since the newly emerged state and local governments lacked the resources to care for the refugees or to help them integrate into society, our church was integrated with the refugee work. In 1992, I also began to teach in Tallinn Medical School ethics and religions as well as crisis counseling and pastoral care. After the tragic ferry disaster on the Baltic Sea in 1994 when MS Estonia sank, claiming 852 lives from Estonia, Sweden and 15 other countries, our churches began to provide crisis counseling and pastoral care to those 137 survivors and the family members who had lost their relatives and intimate friends, and also support in grief and memorial services were organized in an ever-wounded Estonian society (Arnberg et al. 2013).

Ecumenical chaplaincy developed in cooperation with different denominations, beginning in the military and prisons, and later in the police, education, healthcare, and even sports (Eesti Kirikute Nõukogu 2022b, pp. 51–78). Personal and organizational mentoring and coaching began to gain importance in and by our churches in the 21st century (Pilli et al. 2017). Meanwhile, together with other specialists, I was involved in the preparation and establishment of professional crisis pregnancy counselors in the Estonian healthcare system according to the agreements between the Estonian Council of Churches and the government and its institutions (Eesti Vabariigi Valitsuse ja Eesti Kirikute Nõukogu ühishuvide protokoll 2002). All those and other similar developments, such as taking care of the street kids in the city of Tallinn in the 1990s, providing shelter and practical help to the adults living on the streets, and establishing the rehabilitation centers for alcohol and drug addicts in the 2000s, made the churches and society in Estonia more and more aware of the need for providing practical and structural help in real loving actions beside the good news shared in oral and printed form about the Kingdom of Christ. In the middle of Estonian secularized society,14 such Christ-like deeds made both news and more sense to the unchurched generations on the public scene with their skepticism toward institutional religion (Beilmann et al. 2016). So the role and mission of the church(es) was recognized both by the community of faith and the wider community of people in Estonian hypermodernizing culture (Lipovetsky 2005; Remmel 2016, 2017).

In place of the Soviet’s times of conflict in the relationship between the church(es) and society, and instead of the harmony and the two kingdoms paradigms from “the seismic political shifts” in the 1980s–1990s, the 21st century church(es) in Estonia would tend to realize a servanthood calling in and for the society. The Christian sense of identity and integrity of the churches has caught fire and taken initiatives, for example, in the environmental campaign “Let’s Do It!” beginning in Estonia and then reaching out to the “World Clean-Up Day” (World Cleanup Day 2022). In an interesting way, again, collective creation care has built some meaningful bridges between the church(es) and the environmentalist, academic, political, and public people, and networks (Leinus 2020). So the church(es) in the highly secularized cultural context of Estonian society15 might move toward integrity and integration in the servanthood spirit.

5. Integrity in Times of Crisis

Crisis is always challenging the ways people and communities have used to live. So it is also with the communities of faith and societies, religious or irreligious. The third decade of the 21st century began with the COVID-19 pandemic hitting the whole world glocally16 and raising new questions both in and outside of church communities all around the world, including Estonia (Remmel and Remmel 2021; Remmel et al. 2021). A couple of years later, the Russian–Ukrainian war “updated” the glocal crisis and new questions concerning the relationship between the church(es) and its surrounding culture(s), society, and state. There are developing case studies shedding light on many different aspects of the very complex problem (Stückelberger 2020, pp. 561–97; Martin et al. 2020). As this article is mainly concerned with Christian integrity and integration in the relationships between the church(es) and the state in Estonian secularized society, the following focus is limited to some reflections on the examples of integrity challenges as far as my own free church background and ecumenical cooperation is concerned in the relationships between the church(es) and the state during the last few years.

In the beginning of March 2020 and March 2022, I was asked as the Vice President of the Estonian Council of Churches to draft two particular appeals on behalf of the Council to all Estonian churches and public society. The first one in 2020 was made public right before the COVID-19 lockdown was realized by the Estonian government (Eesti Kirikute Nõukogu 2020a). Nobody knew, then, what exactly was coming over Estonian society along with other countries near and far, but the address appealed to the congregations and all the people of Estonia to pray and act for the ones suffering and/or working hard due to the global COVID-19 pandemic, and for the sustainability of common life. While expressing concerns about the safety of people and society as a whole, we asked the churches, as well as the general public, to follow the instructions and recommendations given by the Estonian government and relevant institutions along with the international organizations in order to prevent the spread of the coronavirus. At the same time, we asked for prayers for wisdom both for the doctors and scientists to treat and stop the virus, and for governments and international organizations around the world to fight against it.

Since the Council did not right away give instructions concerning church practices during the pandemic, there were some immediate reactions, including social media, about the appeal. Critics from one side were asking for some concrete guidelines from the Council17 while nobody really knew the specifics about the virus and its prevention, at least not yet. From the other side there was a growing criticism against the restrictions altogether (Kiisler and Remmel 2021). In the following days, weeks, months, and years, the representatives of the Council and Estonian government had regular meetings to advise each other on the specifics on how to optimize and keep balance between the public safety and religious freedom in Estonia while the pandemic was rapidly spreading, including the issues concerning the vaccination.18

Now, looking back, one could conclude that the church(es) embodied relevant Christian integrity while cooperating with and balancing the government and its institutions concerning the regulations limiting both civil and religious freedoms during the pandemic (Remmel and Remmel 2021). The Christian church in Estonia was, after all, acting in servanthood for the whole society and its best possible well-being in the given conditions, not looking for a conflict or harmony per se with the government or rest of the society. While some might have identified the relationship between the church(es) and the state with the “two kingdoms” pattern in which both parties could realize their own role in a dialectic tension with the other, the social servanthood paradigm might characterize the church–state relationship better.

The chaplaincy service in the healthcare system was introduced just before the lockdown in 2020, and it continued to grow, develop, and provide real service to the patients and medics both in the hospitals and nursing homes.19 In connection with the outbreak of the coronavirus and the crisis situation, the healthcare chaplain service requested support from the state in order to provide public service around the clock to the people needing pastoral counseling on an open helpline.20 At the same time, my own church, 3D Church, organized a quick hackathon in the beginning of April 2020 in order to develop in a few days and launch shortly thereafter (in the beginning a prototype and later a fully designed) an ecumenical web-platform, sinuabi.ee21, for enabling public and free of charge access to Christian counselors and mental health professionals who would be available to provide help to the (younger) people who would visit the platform, read the forums, or contact the specialists with their personal needs.22 As the ecumenical project had already reached up to a hundred specialists, governmental support was requested and received to upgrade and develop the platform for its operational sustainability (Eesti Kirikute Nõukogu 2022b, pp. 110–11). Now, by the helpful available network of professionals from different churches, hundreds of people—believers and unbelievers—have open access to professional Christian counseling services for mental and spiritual health (SINUABI 2020). One might explore other examples, too, of how the churches in Estonia cooperated with each other and with the state or local governments in order to support ordinary people, healthcare workers and the society as a whole in the spirit of servanthood. The overall understanding was—from the Prime Minister23 to the general public, including the media24—that the society in crisis was in a real need of mental and spiritual support, and the church(es) could serve the purpose. The government minister of the population, a believer herself, addressed and acknowledged the Estonian churches for their good cooperation with the state for the public good from the very beginning of the pandemic.25 So a good paradigm and a number of best practices in social servanthood modeled how church(es) could relate to the Estonian society and state in times of crisis from 2020 to 2022.

In the beginning of March 2022, the crisis caused by the coronavirus was almost forgotten. The Russian aggression against Ukraine and a large number of war refugees reaching Estonia along with other countries forced the government to lift as quickly as possible most of the restrictions applied earlier in the society of Estonia, such as the mandatory obligation to wear a mask or show the vaccination certificate when entering public places. Now, the most urgent questions were around mobilizing the whole society, including as many churches as possible, for supporting Ukraine and Ukrainians reaching Estonia. Only a few hours after the first attacks from Russia against Ukraine in the morning of 24 February 2022, an ecumenical worship service was held in Tallinn, the capital of Estonia, attended by the Estonian President and members of the government and parliament along with diplomatic and public guests, which was broadcast on national television since it was the national day of independence of Estonia. A public statement and prayer was made by the Estonian Council of Churches concerning the war and integrity of Ukraine and Estonia.26 The Lutheran archbishop emeritus and the president of the Council, Andres Põder, who read aloud the statement during the worship service, published a personal commentary about it a couple of weeks later since some critical voices had appeared in the media, including social media, criticizing the churches and especially the Russian Orthodox Church leaders in Estonia, being part of the Council and its statements, expecting him to say more about the war polarizing the whole world, including the so-called “Russian world”, Russki mir.27 The issue has still not been settled.

As mentioned, I was asked by the Estonian Council of Churches in March 2022, again, to draft a statement on behalf of the Council how all ten member churches, including the Estonian Orthodox Church of the Moscow Patriarchate and its head representative, Metropolitan Eugene, living and ministering in Estonia as a Russian citizen, would relate to the Russian aggression against Ukraine. It was not a big problem to draft a proposal. But it was more complicated to edit the exact wording in the negotiations between the member churches in a way all would accept and sign it.28 It was finally completed after some behind the scenes talks at my last Council meeting in March 2022 as the Vice President before handing the role over to the next leadership. The Vice-Chancellor of the Ministry of Interior and his advisor on religious affairs awarded me with a letter of thanks for the years I worked on the ecumenical relationships between the churches in Estonia and for the partnership between Estonian churches with the Republic of Estonia for the public good. At the same time, they made a request to the Council to issue a long-awaited public statement against the Russian aggression against Ukraine, including the signature of the Estonian Russian Orthodox metropolitan. For some of the church leaders, it seemed odd how the representative of the state could make a statement to the churches in the civil society (which is to respect the religious freedom of the communities of faith in Estonia) about what the churches were supposed to do in order to support the state policy in the critical times of the war. Such appeals have appeared also in other contexts of the world divided by the war.29

Since the Russian Orthodox Patriarch Kirill of Moscow announced that any Russian soldier who dies in the war in Ukraine is forgiven for his sins (Patriarch of Moscow 2022), both the new President of the Estonian Council of Churches, Urmas Viilma, the Archbishop of Estonian Evangelical Lutheran Church, and the Minister of the Interior of the Republic of Estonia, Lauri Läänemets, were provoked to take a public stand against such a politically motivated theological statement by the head of the Russian Orthodox believers who also have membership in the Estonian Council of Churches.30 For Viilma, it appeared, first of all, to be a question of theological and moral integrity. For the government ministers, it was a critical political issue, forcing them to make an ultimatum to the Russian Orthodox Metropolitan Eugene in Estonia to distance himself from Kirill’s position (Vasli 2022; Siseministeerium: Eugeni elamisloa tühistamist ei saa välistada 2022; Uibo 2022; Länts 2022). Different opinions were expressed in the media, including by scholars and church leaders along with journalists and political commentators, whether a government minister could ever make an ultimatum to a minister of a church in Estonia which is known worldwide for its respect for religious liberty (Metropoliit Stefanus 2022; Rohtmets 2022a; Nõmmik 2022; Paas 2022; Jaagant 2022). Lutheran Archbishop Viilma expressed his hesitance concerning such a pressure from the government, arguing it to be encroachment on religious freedom (Viilma 2022; Hindre 2022). A similar statement was made by the Russian Orthodox Synod in Estonia (Õigeusu kiriku sinod: Kirik ei saa pidevalt poliitiliste avaldustega esineda 2022). Metropolitan Eugene himself calmed tensions down by responding to the ultimatum in time and with a satisfying statement for the ministers, stating that he does not share the position verbalized by Kirill (Metropoliit Eugeni 2022a). The case was closed, in a sense.31 But a bigger question was still left in the air: what would integrity and integration look like for the church(es) relating to the state in the secularized cultural context of Estonian society? And how would it relate to the freedom of religion or belief in the warlike tensions? (Juhtkiri: Põhiseadusesse kirjutatud usuvabadusel on piirid 2022; Danilson-Järg 2022; Küüt 2022; Weidebaum 2022).

6. Integrity under Question

Now, maybe we are back to the main question: “What is integrity after all, and what is integrity expecting from us as church(es) in Estonia?”

Charles Dyer (1997, p. xiv) points out in his book Integrity that “integrity is an idea everyone embraces but few can define—an ideal all believe in but few achieve”. Etymologically, it may refer to one who is entire, solid, authentic, or upright, says Charles Swindoll (Dyer 1997, p x).32 “Biblically, the word integrity describes someone whose words and actions match God’s written standards. A person of integrity is someone whose talk—and walk—resemble the character and conduct of Jesus Christ” (Dyer 1997, pp. xiv–xv). Followers of Jesus may envision integrity in his likeness as a virtue–ethical telos for human development33—the image of God and humanity at its B/best is revealed in the person of Jesus according to the Scriptures.34

Alasdair MacIntyre has provided a virtue–ethical paradigm for interpreting integrity in the philosophical language for a better understanding of its development and relevancy in a particular historical tradition and its cultural narrative and social practices (MacIntyre 2007a, 2007b). It has been helpful also to me to reflect on how Estonians have historically narrated about Jesus as someone embodying their sense of virtue guiding them and their integrity in the midst of a disintegrated world of political powers coming and going over the people.35 “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever” (Heb 13:8, NIV), and so his image in its integrity might provide a virtue–ethical type for a people shaping their moral vision also in national storytelling and folk singing (Remmel 2000, pp. 20, 28, 34–35, 62–64). A sense of integrity in Jesus might “disciple” an ethnic group of people on Estonian soil with a virtue–ethical vision about the type of character or community of people being true to one’s self and others before God.

According to Henry Cloud (2009), integrity is more than a moral course of life. It relates to the outcome of the course of life in its achievements as well as in its impact on other people (Cloud 2009, pp. 13–28). Many leaders of the world may become great in their use of power for achieving things while failing in their impact on the people around them since misusing their power. So integrity should mean a more holistic life story combining both achievements and impact for empowering others, whether insiders or outsiders of the community in its particularities. Cloud argues that the people of integrity create and maintain trust; are able to see and face reality; work in a way that brings results; embrace negative realities and solve them; cause growth and increase; and achieve transcendence and meaning in life (Cloud 2009, p. x). Research in neuroeconomics has shown how such integrity would grow trust as a symbolic capital along with the social and financial one (Zak 2012). If a community of character would grow toward such trustworthy integrity, the life of society would benefit, and the culture would begin to change. If the people of Estonia, however secularized, would realize the telos of church(es) being in integrity of the teleion en Hristo with a real servanthood and empowerment of the people, and not in the institutional power games or two-faced politics, the interaction between the church(es) and the wider society with its political government would make a difference.

Contemporary outsiders of the church(es) in Estonia may criticize the church36—just as they might criticize all who have or use some kind of power in a person-centered secular state and culture —for not living up to her integrity and/or for not using its power for empowering others in the achievements and influence.37 The church or its leaders might argue with their critics. But the critics might not be after the verbal arguments at all. The secular society in a given state might not be even after the moral arguments of the church. The critique might be after some kind of embodied argument for a type of social life or culture the church would need to live out both for insiders and outsiders of the church, empowering the society for better in a given state. A true story and not a fake story of the church (PR38) is needed, and without a double agenda.

Hereby is a good example of how the churches and their pastoral leaders have mobilized themselves for serving the Ukrainian war refugees arriving in Estonia and settling in different cities, towns, and villages. All the churches, regardless of denominational affiliation, including the Russian Orthodox community of faith in Estonia, have been involved in providing practical help, guidance, fellowship, pastoral care, and even shelter to the people in need. I have personally served Ukrainian refugees as a pastoral counselor since March 2022—being and sharing with them day by day and week after week. I have been humbled by listening to their stories, asking pastoral questions, and guiding their thoughts and prayers to trust God as the compassionate personal divine Love in the midst of existential personal and national crises. In many cases, one can do nothing else but be open-hearted and empathetic when people may feel thrown into a foreign land not knowing the language, culture, people, and for how long they should consider such a country as their home. The wider society and its non-profit organizations, state institutions such as the Social Insurance Board, and political governments both on the local and national level, along with the ministries dealing with the refugees such as the Ministry of Social Affairs, have appreciated such pastoral and social services the churches have been able to provide. Nobody has raised a question about our sincerity, integrity, and (no-to-double) agenda as we have mutually supported each other and the people in need. So we have been able to serve together waves of refugees in and through our country numbering up to 10% of the Estonian population (Total of Ukraine Refugees with Estonian Temporary Protection May Double 2022).

Nigel Wright (2005), in his book Free Church. Free State,39 describes how integrity and empowering relations seem to have been the two virtuous traits of character in the life of Jesus and his followers, achieving something for and/or having a real positive impact on the people and communities in their time and cultural context, whether following Jesus or not (Wright 2005, pp. 204–83). Jesus embodied and developed with his disciples a moral vision for a “touchable church”—the kind of “open access” messianic presence of the people in a given community looking for authentic change in real-life situations (compare Matt 14:34–6 and Jn 13:33–5, NIV). Such an accessive presence of the openly loving followers of Jesus would be needed also to serve in and for the contemporary secular context of Estonia. A conflict or harmony and even the two kingdoms type of relationship might not serve the purpose here. Christ-like servanthood might. “But this is an alternative political existence in which believers march to the beat of a different drum. Where this is lost sight of the church’s potential as a transformative community is diminished” (Wright 2005, p. 234).

Kirill, the Patriarch of Moscow, might live and speak out his own integrity, but following a beat of another gospel, a narrative of the “Russian world”, the ideology of Russki mir, not the Gospel of Christ, the authoritative text for the people God who follow Jesus in and for the peaceable Kingdom (cf. Hauerwas 1991). Estonian churches, Orthodox or not, and people, believers or not, may discern such a demagogically theologizing ideological communication and falsify it altogether because they sense their integrity in “the beat of a different drum”. This “beat” is coming from an alternative “metronome”, and it is followed, for example, by the worldwide known Estonian composer Arvo Pärt. His community of faith is also Russian Orthodox, but his ecumenical faith is derived from the authoritative text which is not of “Russian world” or any other political worldview, but the worldview of the Holy Scriptures. He does not comment on politics, although he was banned during the Soviet occupation because of his Credo in faith and music.40 In his prayerful spirituality, he continues to create music for the peace in the world.41 Yet, in March 2022, after the Russian aggression in Ukraine, he was first to sign a petition to Kirill with an appeal to convey to the Russian leadership “our urgent supplication for an immediate end to bloodshed, and that Russian troops should be withdrawn from the territory of Ukraine” (Pärt et al. 2022). Such a man of faith and integrity has deserved the deep respect from everybody in Estonian society, including some vocal agnostics among our top politicians and cultural elite. As a living example of Estonian sense of integrity, Arvo Pärt points to a “better beat” for a nation of peaceable singing revolution. He acknowledges the fact that he lives in the highly secularized Nordic-Baltic cultural context of Europe. But his spirituality and music still hum and resonate with our folkways in which our B/best is measured up to Jesus and his integrity. His peaceable “beat” can be found and followed by the “notes of the music”—meaning the authoritative text, the biblical Scriptures telling about the integrity of the Messiah and his followers in the name of Jesus42—and by listening to other “drums beating” beside us—meaning the narratives of the other churches all around the world43—and following the “rhythms” and influences of those social practices which are “in sound” with our common sense of integrity and integration of the church and the country called to serve together in the best practices possible.

7. Toward Integrity and Integration

As Alasdair MacIntyre (1989) has explained, a living tradition is a historically extended and socially embodied argument which might face an epistemological crisis in her course of development. The previous narratives and practices might be challenged in the newly realized contexts. Carrying a sense of virtue, the tradition needs to look for a renewed approach to its authoritative text(s) by which she has been formed and reformed, made sustainable and able to reflect upon and respond to the critics both inside and outside of the tradition. So the integrity of the tradition along with her narratives and practices is maintained and developed in the course of time (MacIntyre 1989, pp. 138–57).

The church and state relationships in Estonia have gone through several epistemological crises in the last decades and recent years during some “seismic political shifts” in society. So I have experienced and described four different ways the church(es) in Estonia could relate to the state in a given stage of societal and cultural development: the conflict, the harmony, the two kingdoms, and the social servanthood. The latter seems to be most relevant today. Estonian churches and their representatives in the midst of secular society, including myself, need to make sure that our integrity and its communication would be integrated with our best social practices, narratives, and virtues understandable to the wider society. In the midst of a glocally developing crisis and overskeptical culture, there is a long way to go, serving in the growing number of areas of life and working together for integrity and integration in and for the future of Estonia. Jesus said: “As the Father has sent me, I am sending you!” (Jn, 20:21, NIV). So we must go.