The Georgian Orthodox Church has a new head. With the backing of a relatively narrow majority of the bishops, 57-year-old Shio Mujiri — now styled as Shio III — ascended to the patriarchal throne on 12 May, succeeding the late Ilia II, the only Patriarch Georgian society had known for nearly half a century.
The public, which had been following the process of choosing Ilia II’s successor since his death on 17 March, might still need some time to adjust to the new reality; the same may be true for the Church itself.
When I mention a ‘new reality’, I do not necessarily mean to suggest any particular expectations towards the 142nd head of the Georgian Orthodox Church — whether he will change anything within the Church or not, or what will become of the presumptions of his supporters and critics alike, remains to be seen. Yet there are already things on the surface that clearly show there will be a new reality in several respects.
This reality, beyond its deeper dimensions, is reflected in tiny details. For me and many others, the Patriarch is naturally associated with an elderly man who speaks slowly and with pauses, moves carefully, and, in short, represents the generation of our grandparents — a generation whose youth we ourselves never witnessed.
All of this stands in contrast to the relatively young and energetic Shio III — not to mention that the very title still sounds unfamiliar to me, and not only to me or other laypeople: just recall the telling moment when one of the bishops still referred to Ilia II — inadvertently, apparently — as Patriarch during the enthronement of Shio III.
However, beneath these minor details lie far more important questions.
Shio III was elected by the Holy Synod — the highest governing body of the Church, of which he himself has been a member since 2003 — receiving 22 votes from 39 hierarchs. His two opponents, Metropolitans Grigol Berbichashvili and Iob Akiashvili, received seven and nine votes respectively. One vote was annulled.
How those who did not vote for Shio II will position themselves, and to what extent and in what form their opposition to the new Patriarch will emerge — or whether they will manage to act in unison — remains difficult to say. However, it is obvious that Shio III is far from being an uncontested figure or a unilateral decision-maker.
This stands in sharp contrast to Ilia II’s immense authority, under whom all the bishops who made up the Holy Synod at the time of his death had been ordained.
This difference has also been openly discussed within the Church as well: one may recall the words of Metropolitan Anton Bulukhia, who, shortly after the former Patriarch’s death, suggested that his successor, unlike Ilia II, would be a brother among bishops rather than their father. Nor is the outspoken interview by Archbishop Zenon Iarajuli easily forgotten, in which he sharply criticised the yet-to-be-elected Shio III on TV.
A similar picture can be observed amongst the general population. Many supporters of Shio III have insisted that he was the late Patriarch’s chosen successor, based on the fact that Ilia II named him during his lifetime as the incumbent who would temporarily take over the management of the Church until a new Patriarch was elected.
While the claim of being ‘the chosen’ one may have helped him secure a degree of unconditional sympathy among parts of the public, this cannot be said of others — people who, both before and after his election, have openly and sharply criticised him on social media, including over his perceived closeness to Georgia’s ruling Georgian Dream party and his alleged status as a preferred candidate by the Russian Orthodox Church.
Has public criticism of the Church increased in recent years? Yes, it has. But did public criticism of Ilia II himself increase to the same extent? Not at all.
‘There have always been people disappointed with the Church, dissatisfied with it, and angry at it, but even a small fraction of [those who speak today] would not have been dared to say this much about [Ilia II]’, wrote Tabula editor Levan Sutidze on the day of Shio III’s election.
As he put it, it is now clear that ‘there is no longer a deity on the throne, and an angry person can fully profane another figure sitting on that same throne in a way that withstands social pressure and normative constraints’.
Over time, we will see what happens to the massive public trust of the Church head. And although someone else now occupies the throne, it is likely that among the faithful — including Shio III’s supporters — there will be a tendency to compare and measure the words and actions of the new Patriarch against the old one.
After all, the aforementioned public trust was not necessarily the Church’s institutional rating, nor the popularity of the office of the Patriarch itself. It was the reputation of a very specific individual — a half-century-long hierarch who is no longer here.
