Formerly a doctoral dissertation at the University of Wales and the Oxford Centre for Ministry Studies, this book's origins can be traced back to the author's graduate work at the Evangelical Faculty of Theology in Osijek, Croatia, where he began reflecting on the wars in the former Yugoslavia. The aftermath of those late 20th-century wars and the involvement of the Serbian Orthodox and Croatian Catholic Churches in promoting the conflict led Romocea, a Romanian evangelical theologian, to study the role of nationalism, and its dangerous mix with Romanian religion. The book's original perspective compares the Romanian Orthodox Church under communism with German churches under Nazism, and draws relevant lessons for churches forced to function under totalitarian regimes.
While Chapter one deals with the Orthodox Church in post-communist Romania, much of the rest of the book endeavors to illustrate the history of nationalism in that country until 1989, the year when communism collapsed. The book also argues that there is a connection between the Byzantine model of symphonia (or harmony) between church and state, on the one hand, and the tendency of the dominant Romanian Orthodox Church to maintain a strong dependence on the state, on the other hand. Due to the popularity among Orthodox churches of this model of church-state relations dating back to at least to the time of Byzantine Emperor Justinian (ruled from 527 to 565), the Romanian Orthodox Church used nationalism beginning in the 19th century to endorse its proximity to and dependence on the state, and its claim to be the national church of Romania. The book does a wonderful job in tracing the Orthodox Church's use of nationalism and its mix with elements of fascism in the inter-war period (1918–1945) and later the symbiosis of Marxism and Orthodox thought through the work of Justinian Marina (Orthodox patriarch from 1947 to 1977) that ended up legitimizing communism. Chapter two is devoted to the study of German Protestantism and Nazism in the Third Reich, and Chapters three to five allow the author to compare the use of nationalism by German Christians (particularly Protestants) under Hitler with its use by the Romanian Orthodox Church in the inter-war period when the fascist Iron Guard dominated the Romanian political landscape and later during communism. Chapter six compares two theological giants in terms of their opposition and support of nationalism respectively: the Swiss Reformed theologian Karl Barth (1886–1968), who provided a vigorous rejection of the nationalism developed by German Christians under Hitler, and the Romanian Orthodox theologian Dumitru Staniloae (1903–1993), who was a promoter of nationalism before, during, and even after the collapse of communism in his country.
The subtitle of the book is somewhat misleading: while a reader expects it to be devoted mainly to the post-communist period, the bulk of the book deals with theological and political issues connected to nationalism and religion in pre-1989 Romania. A more convincing case for the post-communist period would require a differently-structured book, with more space given over to post-communist issues. Romocea justifies his approach in the Introduction, Chapter one, and the Conclusion: the Romanian Orthodox Church in post-communist times continues to be affected by its past collaboration with the communist authorities and its past identification between Orthodoxy and Romanian nationalism. This is seen in the difficulty that the Church had when it came to acknowledging its past wrongs and repenting for them, the restitution of Greek Catholic property confiscated by the communists and transferred to the Orthodox Church in 1948, and its reluctance to embrace religious pluralism in a liberal democracy of the type Romania has pursued. Therefore, in Romocea's opinion it is imperative to clarify the lingering nationalism which continues to keep the post-communist Romanian Orthodox Church connected to the state. Even today, the Romanian Orthodox Church receives government subsidies for its clergy salaries, the construction and renovation of churches, as well as complete funding for religious education in public and theological schools. In Conclusions, Romocea proposes (despite the Marxist-Trotskyist origins of the phrase) a theology of “permanent revolution” for the Orthodox Church, a doctrine that would end up rejecting the sacralization of any ideology, including nationalism, and would thus help with the building of democracy in Romania. Then again, there would be no need for a permanent revolution theory if the Orthodox churches would take seriously their own 1872 condemnation of phyletism (the national or ethnic principle in church organization)! One is left wondering whether nationalism or other factors led to the Orthodox Church's collaboration with the communist secret police, when recent scholarship literature revealed that, with the exception of the Greek Catholics, all the religious denominations in Romania were forced to and chose to collaborate.
Despite the above shortcomings, the book is a serious piece of scholarship constituting an excellent addition to the increasing scholarly literature on religion in politics in Romania. It brings additional clarifications on Romanian nationalism and religion. Clearly written and meticulously researched, the volume should be of interest to scholars working on religion and politics, Orthodox theology, communist and post-communist politics, the Romanian Orthodox Church, and church resistance and collaboration under dictatorship.