Introduction
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CHAPTER 1 Introduction On a sunny, crisp morning in May 2008, I traveled by bus to Sipoo, a town east of Helsinki, to interview Anna. She lived in a middle-class residen- tial area, in a large yellow duplex amid a yard with a number of trees and flower beds, as well as a gazebo. Slightly nervous, as always when meeting new interviewees, I rang her doorbell, and Anna came to the door. She was a diminutive woman in her mid-eighties with short gray hair, wearing stylish clothes, eye shadow, and quite a lot of jewelry – not your typical Finnish granny! She greeted me warmly, took my coat, and ushered me in. Anna’s apartment was impeccably tidy. The living room was domi- nated by beautiful antique furniture and a wall-to-wall bookshelf filled with books. In every room stood dressers and side tables with countless ornaments, flower arrangements, photos of loved ones, and small icons. More icons, photos, and paintings hung on the walls. After giving me a tour of the apartment, Anna brought me to the dining room where she had set the table for two. She served me coffee with salmon sandwiches and Karelian pasties, both delicious. She did not eat any herself, however; instead, she sipped her coffee and chatted about her life and family. She told me how, the very next day after she was born, her father’s mother had taken her to the sauna and washed her with water from nearby Lake Ladoga. This, she emphasized, was her grandmother’s blessing, and it had carried her through life. She also spoke of the devout Orthodox Christian religion of her parents: how every time her father stepped out of the house he had paused to bless himself with the sign of the cross. She explained to me how, when the Winter War had begun, the front line had advanced rapidly to their village. A military policeman had given the family only two hours to pack before they had to be on their way. The first night as evacuees they had slept on the floor of the Lutheran church of the neighboring municipality. After helping her family reach the town in western Finland where their village’s residents had been ordered to relo- cate, Anna had joined the women’s auxiliary paramilitary organization Lotta Svärd. During the Continuation War, she had spent two years in occupied Russian Karelia as a canteen worker. Her older brother had died in the taking of Sortavala, and, ever since then, she had felt a responsibil- ity for her parents and younger siblings. © helena kupari, ���6 | doi ��.��63/97890043�6743_00� This is an open access chapter distributed under the terms of the CC-BY-NC License. Helena Kupari - 9789004326743 Downloaded from Brill.com09/29/2021 01:04:53AM via free access 2 chapter 1 After coffee, we moved to the living room for the actual interview. There, Anna continued her life story. She spoke very warmly of her deceased husband Kalevi, who was from southwestern Finland. Their wedding had been held in the Holy Trinity Church in Helsinki, the so- called “small church” (at that time, the Uspenski Cathedral was mostly reserved for Russian-language services), and Kalevi had been most impressed with the solemnity of the ritual, especially the crowns held above the bride and bridegroom’s heads. Kalevi was an entrepreneur who had worked long hours to maintain and expand his business. But so had Anna, first as a shop clerk and later at a government agency. They had three children, daughters Outi and Eeva and son Petri; all were baptized into the Lutheran faith. Anna praised Kalevi for always having been tolerant towards her reli- gion. When her elderly mother moved close to where they lived, Kalevi used to drive them both to church and pick them up afterwards. And when the Soviet Union fell and it became easier to cross the eastern border, it was Kalevi who suggested that they go on a trip to visit Anna’s childhood home. The house was no longer standing, but they found the ruins of an old cellar where Anna’s family used to store potatoes. Kalevi had passed away a decade ago. The cemetery where he was buried was not far from where Anna lived, and she often walked to his gravesite – to talk to him and to God. Anna herself was in good health. She was proud of the fact that she was not taking any medication; every morning she did a series of gymnastic exercises after her morning prayers. She also pointed out a spot in her living room where she prayed daily, kneeling on a small stool. In the evenings, she went over the col- lection of family members’ photos in her bedroom, asking God to bless every one of her loved ones, especially her five grandchildren and two great-grandchildren. During the course of the interview, Anna spoke highly of every single one of her offspring. Eeva’s daughter, for instance, always brought her a souvenir when returning from a holiday abroad, often a small icon or religious painting. “These are tokens of love,” she exclaimed, referring to memorabilia on a nearby shelf. With obvious pleasure she also recounted how she had recently taken her two great-grandchildren to an Orthodox church service. The little ones, she emphasized, had been awestruck by the beauty of the church. Anna was touched by how well her children and grandchildren took care of her in her old age. Her eldest child phoned every day to make sure all was well. Furthermore, the children had arranged for a cleaning lady Helena Kupari - 9789004326743 Downloaded from Brill.com09/29/2021 01:04:53AM via free access Introduction 3 to come every week, and her son, son-in-law, and two grandsons mowed her lawn and did all the other heavy work in her garden. There was one thing, however, that she was slightly worried about. Because none of her children or grandchildren were Orthodox, she had put together instruc- tions for them on how to organize an Orthodox funeral service. One item on her checklist was the epitaph. Kalevi was buried in the Lutheran cem- etery and Anna was to be buried next to him; there was already a small Orthodox cross carved on the gravestone. With tears in her eyes, she explained to me how she wanted the gravestone to read: “Anna Mäkinen, daughter of Fjodor Kauris, born on the shore of Lake Ladoga.” After about three hours, the interview was over. Anna saw me out and showed me her gazebo, then we parted ways. I never saw her again. A few years ago, I noticed her obituary in the local paper. Ever since then, I have wondered whether her epitaph now describes her in those very words she wanted. I first learned of the Second World War history of the Finnish Karelian Orthodox community when doing research for my MA thesis. Having passed through the Finnish school system, I was naturally aware of the fate of many Finnish Karelians in the war. During the Second World War period, Finland and the Soviet Union fought two separate wars; these resulted in the displacement of over 400,000 people from their homes. What I did not know, however, was that among the people evacuated from Karelia were two-thirds of the Finnish Orthodox community. My ignorance was understandable, perhaps, in the light of the size of the community. Today, only one percent of Finns, approximately 60,000 people, are members of the Orthodox Church. In any case, at the time I was both touched and intrigued by what the Orthodox had gone through. Later, when planning my PhD research, I settled on a topic that combined my theoretical ambitions and interest in women’s religion into an inquiry into the aftermath of these events. A second discovery that further paved the way for my research project was the scarcity of existing research on the religion of the Orthodox evacuees of the Second World War.1 After all, Karelian folk religion and the religious traditions of other Finno-Ugric peoples of northwestern Russia have historically been cen- tral topics of research in Finnish folkloristics, ethnology, and comparative reli- gion. For instance, Uno Harva, one of the founders of the academic discipline 1 However, many other aspects of the identity and culture of displaced Karelians have been extensively studied (e.g., Armstrong 2004; Fingerroos 2006; Kuusisto-Arponen 2009; Raninen- Siiskonen 1999; Sallinen-Gimpl 2010). Helena Kupari - 9789004326743 Downloaded from Brill.com09/29/2021 01:04:53AM via free access 4 chapter 1 of comparative religion in Finland, specialized in the religious practices and beliefs of the Finno-Ugric and Siberian peoples, which he studied using eth- nographic fieldwork methods (Anttonen 1989; Gothóni and Sakaranaho 2016, 11–12). This research tradition was continued by Juha Pentikäinen (among oth- ers), who held the first professorship in comparative religion at the University of Helsinki, my alma mater. One of Pentikäinen’s (1971; see also 1978) most important studies concerns the religiosity of Marina Takalo, an illiterate Orthodox Christian woman from the White Sea region in Karelia who had come to Finland as a refugee after the Russian revolution. Since the 1980’s, a focus on gender has constituted a substantial trend within Finnish research on Karelian Orthodox folk religion. This strand of scholar- ship has produced interpretations of the genderedness of belief and ritual sys- tems, gender roles and conceptions, as well as women’s practices and beliefs (e.g., Apo, Nenola, and Stark-Arola 1998).