David Mustra 🇺🇦

This is Kyiv’s famous St. Andrew’s Church and the equally famous Andriyivskyi Descent, a “a museum of a street” connecting the ancient Upper Town with the quiet neighborhood of Podil on the banks of the Dnipro River. This is one of Kyiv’s most iconic places, a place where famous poets and writers once lived, where practically every house has an urban legend attached to it, and where many beloved comedy films were shot over the decades. This magnificent 18th-century church owes its existence to a visit to Kyiv in 1744 by the Russian Empress Elizabeth, daughter of Peter the Great. Encouraged by her lover, Oleksii Rozumovsky, who had once been a simple Ukrainian villager and singer, she traveled to Kyiv and was so deeply impressed by the city’s ancient Christian shrines that she ordered a new church to be built at a very special spot in the city. And why are both the church and the street named after St. Andrew? Well, according to a legend recorded in medieval chronicles, some two thousand years ago, the Apostle Andrew traveled from Crimea up the Dnipro into the lands of the “Scythians” to preach Christianity. One day, he came ashore, climbed a hill overlooking the deserted riverbank, and told his disciples: Here, upon these heights above the river, a great and holy city will rise. He blessed the place and erected a cross upon the hill. And thus Andrew foretold the rise of Kyiv, the city that would become the cradle of Christianity among the Eastern Slavs and the seat of the great princes of Kyivan Rus. There is, however, one small catch. The legend was very likely added to the chronicles at a later date, at a time when mighty Kyiv was asserting itself as a great Christian capital, consolidating its prestige and political power. And Kyiv’s rulers had every reason to want prophetic roots stretching all the way back to biblical times. But the legend also made its way into the chronicles with a rather amusing sequel. After foretelling Kyiv’s glorious future, the Apostle Andrew continued north to the distant lands of Novgorod (which, of course, did not even remotely exist in biblical times). And there he was utterly astonished to discover that the locals would heat their bathhouses to scorching temperatures, strip naked, beat one another half to death with bundles of twigs, and then pour freezing water over themselves. It's hard to see this as anything other than Kyiv’s court writers openly making fun of their political and economic rivals in Novgorod. Something along the lines of: Look, here in Kyiv, the Apostle Andrew prophesied a great city and blessed our land. And what did the Novgorodians show a disciple of Christ? Their bare asses in a bathhouse, hilarious! But the legend took on a life of its own over the centuries, forever making the Apostle Andrew a part of Kyiv’s streets and legacy. And there are countless stories like this -- epic, hilarious, and deeply tragic -- throughout the long history of Ukraine and its people. You would be genuinely surprised to discover just how much older, richer, deeper, more dramatic, and more symbolic Ukraine is than the image of some insignificant “Russian backwater” that propaganda has tried so hard to sell to the world. And today, Ukraine is once again fighting to defend its statehood and freedom, both of which it has tragically lost more than once throughout its history. And that is exactly what my book is about.