Russia - from an old Viking group known as the Rus, and from the kingdom they founded in present-day Ukraine.

(http://en2.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_country_name_etymologies)

the Varangians initiated Kievan Rus' which was named after them (Rus' is etymologically identical to the Finnish and Estonian names for Sweden: Ruotsi and Rootsi, and is derived from the Old Norse root for "rowing" rods-, which is logical as the Russian rivers are more suitable for rowing than sailing). The Vikings however called the land Greater Sweden, Sweden the Cold or Gardarike (the land of cities).

http://en2.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kievan_Rus%27

I recently dropped in at a small but well-stocked bookstore in Kyiv’s Lukyanivka. Individual and collected works by contemporary writers, translations of foreign classics, old, and oriental authors... Good print, artistically laid out covers... Walking past the shelves, I looked into some books and read, among other things, Rumi’s lines "Do not grieve for what is past; When a thing is done, vex not yourself about it" (trans. by E. H. Whinfield).

Then I asked the saleslady to show me way to Ukrainian-language books. In reply I heard this said in a resentful, contemptuous and defying tone, "We’ve got no Ukrainian books because they aren’t published!" Precisely that!

Later, in the heat of a bit strained discussion, the saleslady had to take a different standpoint, "Nobody reads Ukrainian books, so we do not order them. Is that clear?" Then she added, "Who usually asks for them? God knows who!" The next day I learned, speaking to the store manager, that Ukrainian books are available at this store, namely, school textbooks. And the saleslady was impossible to recognize: she was all smiles and speaking Ukrainian so well as if it were her mother tongue. I suspect it really was.

Small wonder. For centuries our people have had inferiority complex cultivated in them, while the Ukrainian language was meticulously squeezed out of this country — especially at the time when European nations were forming their modern literary vernaculars. Let us recall a few eloquent facts: just a small part from the history of the Ukrainian book.

As we know, book printing emerged in Ukraine in the sixteen century. Thanks to the erudition, energy and funds of Prince Kostiantyn Ostrozky, Eastern Orthodox Europe’s first full text of the Bible was printed in 1581 (education and book printing were of a predominantly theological nature at the time). This Bible was reprinted in 1663 in Moscow, with the original foreword left intact. The so-called Elizabethan Bible of 1751, edited by Kyiv Academy Professors, Hieromonks Varlaam Lashchevsky and Hedeon Slonymsky, was also an Ostroh Bible reprint. For, as Tsar Peter I complained a little before, "Our priests are undereducated... I wish they’d gone to Kiev schools!"

In the early seventeenth century, Ukrainian culture was concentrated at the Kyiv Pechersk Lavra Monastery of the Caves, where book printing flourished owing to the efforts of Archimandrite Yelisei Pletenetsky. A print shop and a big paper factory were built, and experienced masters were invited. The first eight years saw the publication of eleven large books indispensable for church life, such as Horologium, A Book on Undivided Faith, and others.

After the Ukrainian Church was placed under Moscow Patriarchate in 1686, the Lavra’s Archimandrite Varlaam Yasynsky requested Patriarch Joachim to give the monastery permission to print books on its own. But, instead of getting permission, the Lavra saw persecutions and restrictions, and the pages that did not toe Moscow’s line were torn out of its books. It was strictly ordered not to print books without the Patriarch’s permission, although Tsar Aleksei Mikhailovich’s ukase on the Ukrainian Church’s rights said, "We hereby allow that books be printed."

It will be noted that in the history of the Muscovite Church the seventeenth and the early eighteenth centuries was a period of very low ecclesiastical culture, when the undereducated and obscurant clergy used religious books rewritten by ignorant monks. To correct the books, Moscow had to invite "foreign correctors," i.e., Greeks and learned Ukrainians from the Kyiv Pechersk Lavra. Therefore, subordination to the Muscovite Church was a significant regression for the Ukrainian Church, a step toward darkness and ignorance. This could not but tell in time on the general cultural level of Ukrainians. Suffice it to quote an ukase Tsar Peter I issued in 1701, "Monks shall not be allowed to write letters in their cells. It is forbidden to keep ink and papers in cells. Only the refectory can hold a special place for writing with appropriate permission of the prior..." (Could Nestor the Chronicler have written his Tales of Bygone Years under such conditions?).

The year 1720 saw another prohibitive edict of the monarch, "No books except the old church publications shall be printed at the Kiev Pechersk and Chernihiv print shops. Moreover, the old church books shall be corrected so they contain no vernacular dialect and be free of differences and disagreements with Great Russian editions." This ushered in the era of stamping out the "vernacular dialect" and of rigid formal censorship: it was ordered that Lavra send its manuscripts directly to the Moscow printing office, and "the Kiev Pechersk Lavra shall pay decent remuneration to Moscow print shop employees." They did not forget about fines, either. For instance, the Lavra was fined 1000 rubles in 1724 for printing Triod (a church liturgical book) without Moscow’s authorization and because this book "was at some variance with the Great Russian edition."

Also noteworthy was a case in 1769, under Catherine II, when the Lavra asked permission to print primers because people did not understand and did not want to buy Moscow ones. The Synod strictly prohibited it doing so and ordered the confiscation of all books already printed. It was decreed at the same time to withdraw old Ukrainian liturgical books from churches, changing them for new — Muscovite — ones.

In the long run, the desired result was achieved. Throughout the eighteenth century, the Kyiv Pechersk Lavra’s book center lost the status of an independent publishing house, and "the books issued for the common people were no longer different in content and style to the ones coming out of the Moscow print shop." It is common knowledge that Moscow in fact pursued the same policy in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.

The most incredible fact in this story is that, despite such enviable diligence of Moscow’s lay and church authorities over the past four centuries (including this day), Ukrainians managed not only to preserve but also to develop their language. This truly divine miracle is an inexhaustible source of hope for the future.

¹39 December 16 2003 «The Day»
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