But when he failed to enthusiastically embrace Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, the Kremlin dispatched him to a remote post in Hungary.
Now it has completed its defenestration of Hilarion with a defamation campaign as brutal as those waged by Stalin’s Kremlin. It’s a signal to anyone who might dare to dissent from Vladimir Putin.
Aged 58, Metropolitan Hilarion is significantly younger than Patriarch Kirill, the leader of the Russian Orthodox Church, who has a history of ties to the KGB and, more recently, fawning support for the Putin regime.
Hilarion is also significantly more talented. A musical prodigy, Grigory Alfeyev, as he was then known, attended a specialist music school and then won a place at Moscow State Conservatory as a composition student. After his studies were interrupted by compulsory military service, Alfeyev decided to become a monk, taking the name Hilarion.
He was well-suited to his vocation, well-liked at home and soon abroad too. Indeed, he (unusually for a Russian Orthodox priest) enjoyed a worldwide reputation as a theologian; his achievements include a doctorate from Oxford (and one from the Sergius Orthodox Theological Institute in Paris, as well as a professorship at the University of Fribourg in Switzerland) and numerous scholarly works.
Over the years, he has pursued his love of music by composing several works for choir and orchestra. At just 44, he was the Russian Orthodox equivalent of a cardinal and head of his church’s Department for External Church Relations. That made him Russia’s second-most powerful priest.
Until Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, Hilarion seemed safe in his post. With his unparalleled contacts and worldwide reputation he was, in fact, the perfect man for it. That was only underlined by Russia’s growing isolation, even before its all-out invasion of Ukraine in 2022.
Of course, Hilarion is a man of the cloth, not a politician, but he was able to nurture the Russian Orthodox Church’s relationships with denominations in other countries. That reflected well on a country that was looking more thuggish by the day. Indeed, Hilarion seemed destined for ever-greater things.
But unlike Kirill, Hilarion refused to play Putin’s game.
When Russia invaded Ukraine, Kirill immediately leaped into action, describing the war of aggression as a “Holy War,” blessing Russian soldiers and justifying the Kremlin’s colonialism, or Russky mir, as an expansion into Russia’s spiritual space.
Such language marked the end of Kirill’s spiritual journey. Back in the day, when he was what one might call a more religious man, and when the Kremlin’s fountainhead of corruption became intolerable, he considered it his duty to publicly criticize it. Bad idea. In no time, the Patriarch became the subject of a defamation campaign so vicious that he uttered no more criticism. On the contrary, he has henceforth toed the Kremlin’s line.
Faced with Russia’s full-scale invasion, Hilarion remained steadfast: he was not going to praise Putin’s war. He knew the risks of denouncing the war and of remaining silent — indeed, he was dismissed by the University of Fribourg for failing to offer a condemnation.
But even his silence was too much for the Kremlin. As readers will recall, four months into the war Hilarion was unceremoniously packed off to Hungary, a country whose Russian Orthodox community is so small that it fits into a dozen parishes.
Much like Soviet dissidents sent into internal exile, Hilarion blossomed where he was planted.
He diligently served his dozen parishes and became well-liked among the clergy and the faithful.
When Pope Francis made a pastoral visit to Hungary’s Roman Catholic community in the summer of 2022, he made a point of meeting with Hilarion: a clear papal rebuke of Putin.
This was too much for the Kremlin. It was time for a defamation campaign, one even more vicious than the one that had silenced Kirill.
This arrived in the form of Georgy Suzuki, a 20-year-old Japanese-Russian cleric-in-training. He briefly worked in Hilarion’s office, and soon reported that the bishop had engaged in sexual harassment and embezzled money.
Suzuki allegedly left for Japan in January this year, taking with him a considerable trove of what were described as Hilarion’s belongings.
These, the Russian news outlet Novaya Gazeta Europe reported, allegedly included cash and valuables from Metropolitan Hilarion’s residence as well as pictures, videos, and recordings showing Hilarion vacationing with Russian oligarchs and Hungarian officials.
Suzuki’s trove from Hilarion’s home is also said to have included expensive watches. This was an echo of the regime’s earlier claims against Kirill, when the Kremlin alleged that he, too, owned expensive watches.
The story further involved Suzuki’s mother, whom Hilarion reportedly contacted with an offer of money that was “a testimony of sincere regret for all mistakes made.”
Like the smear campaigns against Soviet dissidents, the campaign against Hilarion is fishy. Suzuki appeared out of nowhere to serve with Hilarion in the small and remote diocese of Hungary and appears to have wasted no time gaining the bishop’s confidence.
He quickly made an exit, Hilarion’s belongings and firing off streams of salacious allegations.
The priests in Hungary’s Russian Orthodox Church are certain of Hilarion’s innocence and issued a fiercely worded defense of their leader: “We have known Metropolitan Hilarion for many years — it has been obvious that here among us is a bishop with the single goal of serving God’s glory,” a large group of them wrote in a statement, adding that “silence is criminal, especially for priests appointed by God to bear witness to the truth and shut the mouths of madmen. . . Having read [Suzuki’s] testimony, which causes nothing but disgust, we see that this criminal has accomplices who seek to discredit our saint.”
The shaming of Hilarion meanwhile continues apace. He is now reportedly back in Russia: recalled for “consultations” with Kirill and where he will no doubt be questioned about Suzuki’s claims that he criticized the Patriarch while in Hungary.
Hilarion had little choice but to return — clerics are not permitted to defy superiors’ orders and a refusal would merely have added to the charges against him.
One shudders to contemplate the treatment he’s likely to be receiving at the hands of Kirill and his Kremlin masters.
Indeed, Hilarion’s fate sends a chilling message to Russians who might still have the courage to criticize the Ukraine war, if only discreetly: the authorities will come for you.