Obituary | Ilia II – Man Who Reinvented the Church

2026-03-22 - 18:52

Georgians are bidding farewell to Ilia II, the longest-serving head of the Orthodox Church of Georgia, one of the oldest Christian churches in the world. Ilia II passed away at the age of 93, after nearly five decades steering the wheel of the Orthodox Church. A longtime researcher and observer of Georgian politics reflects on his legacy, both its virtues and its flaws. Intro: Church (Re-)Entering Georgia Growing up in a small provincial town in Georgia in the 1990s had its obvious perks. The slow – almost monotonous – pace of living was only occasionally disrupted by news of crime and conflicts in other parts of the country. Neighbors were friendlier, and the neighborhoods felt more alive, even if not entirely safe. Most of us were poor, but even that carried a certain sense of normalcy. Inside schoolrooms, we were taught through a mixture of Soviet and independence-era historical narratives, but since the latter was still in the making and the former seemed to be in terminal decline, it also allowed for a bit more freedom – for teachers and students alike. There was not much to do outside, but the remnants of old Soviet-era factories offered a fair bit of adventure, and a fair amount of hazard too. Importantly, being far from Tbilisi, the country’s capital, also meant we were largely spared of the worst of political instability. But with those perks came their downsides: constant electricity blackouts, poor road connectivity, and social dogma meant that the cultural shifts taking hold in the capital reached us slowly, if at all. This was also true of religion – or rather, of the revival of the Georgian Orthodox Church, the country’s main religious institution and the spiritual home for around 85% of the country’s population. That the Church was gaining popularity in Tbilisi was already evident in the 1990s; an attentive eye could catch the steadily rising number of parishioners in televised liturgies, a standard fixture during Christmas and Easter celebrations of those and contemporary times. Others might also have noticed the gradual appearance of high-ranking politicians at these ceremonies, holding candles beside the clergy and eagerly pretending to care about the word of God. But it took time for this trend to reach my hometown. After all, traditional habitats tend to absorb novelties more slowly than urban settings. The new religious trend also had a difficult challenge of replacing older spiritual mores, which could best be described as a mutation of medieval Christian paganism and communism-inspired atheism. By the early 2000s, the shift was unmistakable: the clergy was growing exponentially, along with its public standing. Older monasteries, deserted in the 18th and 19th centuries, were being brought back to life, and the domes of newly-constructed churches were beginning to alter the cityscapes across the country. My experience with the Georgian Orthodox Church has been thus deeply personal, yet that of a quiet bystander. This is exactly how I received the news of the death of Ilia II – the man who stood behind the revival of the Georgian Orthodox Church. Slowly but surely, the Church was making its way into people’s minds, and what had once felt distant and mystical became something immediate, close, and real. I vividly remember friends and classmates staying overnight for religious ceremonies; my cousin, whose eyes would light up whenever she spoke of a local priest; and our elderly neighbors and relatives flocking to churches for baptisms or holy matrimonies in hopes of securing eternal life. For these new converts, the Church was many things at once – it was a place of community, a space for finding spiritual comfort, and a venue for seeking guidance on their worldly problems. Importantly, it also symbolized hope. In a country sunk into the abyss of corruption, bad governance, and impunity, the Church offered not only the promise of the afterlife but was also perceived as a place of decency and moral clarity. It was also highly personalized – much of the change was embodied in Ilia II, the long-time Catholicos-Patriarch of the Orthodox Church of Georgia. Ilia II, who – at that time – had ruled the Church for over two decades, epitomized the stability of institutions, longevity tested by history, and a pastoral care for its people. For me, that was never the case, however. Mind you, I was never a rebellious kid. A round-the-clock valedictorian, a teacher’s favorite, a class leader, a long-time volunteer – I was exactly the kind of person who might have embraced the trend, but I never did. It’s because I never found comfort in endless masses and preaching, and preferred my own ways of seeking answers. Perhaps that is also what kept bringing me back to churches. Ilia II on December 25, 1977, on the day of his enthronement, Mtskheta, Georgia. Photo source: Georgia’s National Archives I may have been disinterested in Church canons, but I developed an unusual fascination with religious architecture and paintings from an early age, spending most of my summers pestering my late grandfather to take me to remote shrines, which I would meticulously document in my numerous notebooks. There was a measure of spirituality in it, too. For me, church architecture was – and still is – a way to reconnect with our ancestors, as they are perhaps the only tangible reminders of what past generations left behind. These structures are also symbols of defiance. When towns and villages were pillaged, and it was no longer safe for people to pray closer to their homes, stubborn Georgians would build temples deep inside forests and on hilltops – in places difficult to reach for invaders. Being close to churches was fulfilling. It gave me a sense of purpose and kept me motivated to dream big. But over time, that feeling faded – fewer and fewer churches felt pristine, and the human hand, even when serving good purposes, became more apparent in hitherto untouched monasteries. I also chose a radically different profession, and my childhood hobby gradually disappeared. Still, I continued to follow developments in the Church, especially where they intersected with Georgian politics. My experience with the Georgian Orthodox Church has been thus deeply personal, yet that of a quiet bystander. This is exactly how I received the news of the death of Ilia II – the man who stood behind the revival of the Georgian Orthodox Church. I would not say I felt particular sentiments, nor an urge to join the chorus of politicians and public figures paying respects to the Catholicos-Patriarch, but I felt, profoundly, that something monumental had ended – a sense that a part of Georgia itself had quietly passed away. I also felt compelled to put this in writing, as a way to reflect on his legacy, both good and bad. Rising Through Ranks Born in 1933 in present-day Vladikavkaz, North Ossetian Autonomous Oblast under the Soviet Union, in the family of Giorgi Ghudushauri and Natalia Kobaidze, he was given the name Irakli, after Heraclius (Erekle) II, one of the last monarchs of the eastern Georgian kingdom of Kartli and Kakheti. His family had moved to Ossetia from the neighboring Georgian province of Khevi, now known as Stepantsminda, like hundreds of other Georgians who had settled in the town since the late 19th and early 20th century. Irakli’s father, Giorgi, was a descendant of the powerful clan of Shiola Ghudushauri, which once owned lands around the village of Sno in Khevi, a strategic gateway connecting Georgia to Russia. Ilia II would later recall that his family had been deeply religious, also maintaining cordial relations with their Muslim neighbors from Ingushetia. In the early 1940s, the family moved back to their ancestral village of Sno, returning to Vladikavkaz at the end of the war, where Irakli would complete his schooling. Irakli continued his studies in Russia, graduating in 1960 from the Moscow Theological Seminary at Zagorsk, the largest institution for religious training in the Soviet Union. In 1957, he was ordained as a monk in a church in Tbilisi and took the name Ilia; he was later promoted to deacon and then archpriest. In 1960, the then-Catholicos Patriarch Eprem II ordained him Hegumen, and a year later, he was elevated to the rank of Archimandrite. His career continued to advance steadily: in 1963, Ilia was appointed as eparchial head of the Batumi and Shemoqmedi Diocese in western Georgia. In 1967, he was dispatched to the Sokhumi-Abkhazia Diocese, where he served as metropolitan until his enthronement as Catholicos-Patriarch in 1977. Navigating Political Winds of Soviet Georgia Ilia II’s early years as a clergyman were trailblazing by any standard – ordained at the age of 24, dispatched to the highly important diocese of Abkhazia at 34, and enthroned at 44, he was a rising star of the Georgian Orthodox Church. His rapid ascent to power seemed to have a reason. A young and energetic cleric, he quickly left his mark wherever he served. In his final episcopal assignment in Abkhazia, for instance, he increased the number of Georgian priests from two to twelve – an achievement of scale during the atheism-dominated period of the early 1970s. But being active meant that he, too, had to navigate the difficult political winds that characterized late 20th-century Georgia. And it was no easy task. The period in which he ascended to power may have coincided with the zastoy-era weaknesses of the Soviet state, but being at the helm of a religious institution in a Communist state – even if approved by the very authorities – was far from being simple. All layers of society were still firmly in the hands of the Soviet party apparatchiks. The Church, too, was indirectly subordinated, but also infiltrated by the security services. Many of the clerics were marred by allegations of theft, indecency, and other forms of canonical deviations. Eduard Shevardnadze alongside Patriarch Ilia II. Photo source: Eduard Shevardnadze Center Yet, Ilia II seems to have found a common language with the authorities, most notably with Eduard Shevardnadze, head of the Central Committee of the Georgian Soviet Socialist Republic and effectively the country’s leader from 1972 to 1985. Shevardnadze, a comparatively younger and reform-oriented politician, allowed himself freedom to conduct some societal and economic experiments in the 1970s, but all within the confines of Communist ideology. In this context, Ilia II appears to have enjoyed his personal backing. Shevardnadze would later – half-humorously – recall that he “did his best” to ensure that Georgia would have a “young, educated, and patriotic” Catholicos-Patriarch, which – in his words – was against the will of Moscow, which preferred Georgia to have a weak personality instead. In the late 1980s, Ilia II likewise found common ground with Shevardnadze’s successors – Jumber Patiashvili and Givi Gumbaridze – while steadily strengthening his own position within the Church. But it would be a mistake to portray Ilia II as a mere henchman of Shevardnadze or his successors. Their convergence appeared to be mutually beneficial: the authorities allowed the Church some freedom to operate, while the Church helped sustain the population spiritually at a time when the state could no longer provide materially. The Church also offered an avenue to channel the national grievances of Georgians, who were increasingly leaning toward anti-Soviet and pro-independence positions. From Soviet to Independent Georgia Ilia II might have gotten along well with Soviet partocrats, but his loyalty, and at times open deference, to them put him at odds with the national liberation movement, led by long-time dissidents Merab Kostava and Zviad Gamsakhurdia. His troubled relationship with Gamsakhurdia – the movement’s leader and the first president of Georgia – played out particularly dramatically. Ilia II stood beside him on November 14, 1990, when the new parliament was sworn in under the majority of Gamsakhurdia’s pro-independence Roundtable Georgia coalition. Yet, on April 9, 1991, when Gamsakhurdia declared the restoration of independence, Ilia II was noticeably absent from the legislative chamber. He likewise stepped aside in December 1991, when mutineers from the National Guard descended on Tbilisi and besieged the Parliament building, ultimately forcing the president into exile. In the weeks and months that followed, Ilia II remained silent, failing to condemn the brutal crackdowns on Gamsakhurdia’s supporters that ensued after the coup d’état. By contrast, when Shevardnadze returned to the country in March 1992 and assumed leadership of the military junta, Ilia II was there to bless him, going so far as to baptize him personally. The church-state ties in later years continued in a quasi-Byzantine tradition, with President Shevardnadze and the Catholicos-Patriarch cooperating closely, each essentially strengthening itself individually while also reinforcing the other. This culminated in the signing of the Concordat in 2002, a constitutional agreement that further formalized the role of the Orthodox Church and legitimized its position. Ilia II used these years to centralize his governance, replacing the old guard with newer clergy, disciplining defectors – at times, mercilessly, and recruiting more clerics – often without proper education or even a clean criminal record. The stars were aligned in Ilia II’s favor. In the absence of strong ideological and religious alternatives, the Georgian Orthodox Church gained the upper hand. It steadily made inroads into the public mind, and what had once been completely dominated by communist thought was gradually being replaced by Christian teaching. Ilia II also seemed to reach across all layers of society – from politicians to crime bosses, from businesspeople to public figures. Even within the liberal circles of the early 1990s, the Church appeared to be seen as a place of progress and personal salvation. Among the wider public, he was steadily emerging as a champion of national values, Georgian culture, traditions, and way of life. Constantinople Patriarch Demetrios I posing alongside Ilia II with a certificate recognizing the autocephaly of the Georgian Orthodox Church, March 4, 1990. Photo source: Georgia’s National Archives With growing public standing, Ilia II felt able to assert his independence, and as the 21st century approached, he began gradually picking up on criticism of the authorities. As a result, what had, in his first two decades, been solely pastoral and didactic preaching slowly took on a more political tone. Simultaneously, he pursued a growing isolationist agenda, effectively minimizing ecclesial ties with non-Russian patriarchates – a choice that stood in stark contrast to his earlier positions and a choice that would shadow the Church until the end of his tenure. He also began decrying the spread of other denominations, labeling them as foreign-imposed and calling on the authorities to restrict their functioning. In 1994, for instance, Ilia II spoke of the expansion of “numerous foreign religions and sects,” listing Catholics alongside Jehovah’s Witnesses, Krishna devotees, and others. Similarly, in 1997, Ilia II spoke of “foreign religions and totalitarian sects” attacking the country and undermining “national feelings”. Still, Ilia II remained highly reserved when it came to outright challenging the authorities. He understood that to maintain his influence and reap the benefits of