DAILY DISPATCH | MOSCOW — DAY FOUR

	A firsthand look at Moscow's faithful fringe By ELIZABETH O'BRIEN Posted Monday, March 18, 2002; 7 p.m. EST

At our first stop on Monday, we saw no gilded icons, smelled no incense, and heard no prayers. But the small, unadorned courtroom contained a message just as profound as the grand houses of worship that we visited the day before. Inside, the Jehovah's Witnesses fought for their right to worship freely in a trial that threatens Moscow believers with Soviet-style oppression, Jehovah's Witnesses say.

This legal challenge was brought against the Jehovah's Witnesses by the City of Moscow on the grounds that the religion breaks up families and sows religious discord, among other contentions. The city has prevented the Jehovah's Witnesses from registering with the municipal authorities, a regulation under the 1997 Law on Freedom of Conscience and Religious Association.

"If the prosecution wins, what can we do?" said Maxim Perovounin, 23, a believer who studies law at Moscow State University. "It will be the same as in Soviet times. I don't think it will change my attitude towards my religion, but it will be harder to be a Witness."

Our courtroom trip kicked off a day focused on four of Russia's minority religions. In addition to the Jehovah's Witnesses, we also visited a Catholic community, a group of Sephardic Jews, a Baptist convention, and a Pentecostal service for substance abusers.

Like Russia's dominant Orthodox faith, these minoroty religions suffered more persecution under the 70 years of official atheism enforced by the Soviet leaders. But while sanctions against the Orthodox were lifted with the collapse of Communism, these non-Orthodox groups continue to feel the sting of discrimination.

The tiny courtroom bustled with activity. Only half the class was allowed inside to watch the court proceedings. The other half remained outside where students had opportunities to interview other Jehovah's Witnesses and their detractors.

Inside the chamber, Jehovah's Witness Vera Dubinskaya took the stand. One of the estimated 10,000 Jehovah's Witnesses in Moscow, Dubinskaya stood with her back to the gallery in front of the judge, Vera Dubinskaya.

In the Russian legal system, judges can take an active role in the questioning, and Dubinskaya asked the middle-aged believer if she had signed a petition in support of her faith.

"Yes, it's my own request that the Jehovah's Witnesses have freedom," Dubinskaya said.

"It was your own?" the judge asked. "Yes," Dubinskaya replied. "But who made this text?" the judge said. "I don't know, but I was in agreement with the text," Dubinskaya replied.

After Dubinskaya stepped down—a figure of speech here because she had stood for almost two hours on the same elevation as the rest of the room—we left and headed to the Moscow Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception. The Cathedral, a Catholic house of worship, was converted into a secular building under Stalin and "profaned," said our guide, Olga Karpova.

She said that the grand marble cathedral was subdivided into four floors, with toilets placed deliberately where the sanctuary had been.

The church began shedding its painful past in 1995, and renovations were completed in 1999. Now, a rare stained glass representation of Pope John Paul II illuminates the tall windows on one side.

In some ways, the window embodies the hope of Catholics that Pope John Paul II has ever come to Russia, but the Rev. Joseph Zanevsky of the Moscow cathedral expressed his fervent belief that the pope would one day make a visit.

Bidding good-bye to our Catholic hosts, we sped off to a late lunch date at Choral Synagogue, one of the few synagogues that remained open and functioning during the Soviet era. There, we were received by a group of Sephardic Jews from Azerbaijan, known locally as "Mountain Jews."

Faint from hunger, we were asked to pose for a series of pictures outside the synagogue. Suddenly the journalism students felt what it was like on the other side of the camera, a good experience if not fully appreciated at the moment.

Akif T. Gilalov, president of the community, said a few words in the sanctuary and then ushered us up to yet another generous, lavish lunch of soup, salad, rice, chicken, fruit, bread, spreads, and of course, vodka.

We ended the day's official program with a visit to the historic Moscow Central Church of Evangelical Christian Baptists, like the Choral Synagogue, a house of worship that was never forced to close during communism. There we took part in the opening day of the Baptist convention with a welcoming speech and some hymns.

Students then scattered for optional evening activities. Some explored the city, with beers and shopping high on the agenda. Others went to a Pentecostal service for former drug addicts.

Brian McGuire and Michael Gartland enjoyed a bit of serendipity when they received free tickets to the Moscow Conservatory for a concert of French music.

Professor Ari Goldman and four students went to the Bolshoi ballet to take in Giselle, the story of a peasant girl who falls in love with an aristocrat then dies. The ballet also reflects the Slav legend that girls who die before their wedding day rise from the dead and dance ever after. The ballet's second act was about the resurrection of Giselle's spirit.

"After going to all these houses of worship," said Nicole Neroulias after more than two hours of toe, "the Bolshoi was the place that really fed my soul."