“While, historically, many of the country's Protestant traditions have been rooted in the pacifist tradition, members of the council noted that those tendencies have been challenged ever since Russia illegally annexed Crimea in 2014. Even those who refuse to take up arms, they note, have not shied away from helping war efforts in other capacities.”
For religious leaders, peacemaking requires
truth-telling about Russia's aggression
War
destruction as seen in Izium, Ukraine, on Dec. 8. (Marcin Mazur)
BY CHRISTOPHER WHITE
Vatican Correspondent cwhite@ncronline.org
All of the windows in the
local hospital shattered by Russian shelling have now been replaced and on Dec.
8 — the feast of the Immaculate Conception — the head of surgery is expecting
new patients. With a slight smile, he notes that the new arrivals will not be
from war casualties, but injuries resulting from the ice and snow.
Just up the road, at what
was once Izium's town hall, another construction project, of sorts, is in
progress: A mural is being painted on its heavily bombarded façade representing
popular cartoon characters dating back to the 1960s, known as Cossacks. These
heroic figures are recognized as thoroughly Ukrainian and after nearly 10
months of savage war, are being freshly painted to represent the country's
resilient identity.
A
"Cossack" cartoon mural is painted on the former city hall in Izium,
Ukraine, on Dec. 8. (Marcin Mazur)
From Izium, it's about an
eight-hour drive west to the capital city of Kyiv, where another art display
opened May 8, just over two months after the Feb. 24 Russian invasion began.
Here, at a World War II
museum, a special exhibition's title uses decidedly religious language to
encapsulate the toll of the war: "Ukraine Crucifixion."
The exhibition wasted no
time in quickly memorializing the effects of the war, often with religious
artifacts. A painting of Jesus being taken off the cross that was hit by
shrapnel hangs in the center of one room and display cases contain damaged
icons and crucifixes placed atop Russian bullets.
"Religious symbols
are widely understood by Ukrainian people," said Dmytro Hainetdinov, a
museum official. "The symbol of crucifixion is not only the symbol of
reprisal, but also the symbol of resurrection."
"This is important to
underline our belief in the victory and resurrection of Ukraine," he
added.
Damaged
icons and crucifixes sit atop Russian bullets at the "Ukraine
Crucifixion" exhibit in Kyiv, Ukraine, on Dec. 8. (NCR photo/Christopher
White)
And be it in neighboring
Poland — where 8 million Ukrainian refugees and displaced persons have crossed into since the war's outbreak —
or among those who remain in Ukraine, there is widely shared determination,
often spoken of with religious conviction, that however long is necessary, the
country is willing to continue battling Russia to defend its territorial
integrity.
Such a position has caused
some tension with the Vatican, which, while having acknowledged Russia as the
aggressor in the war, is eager to accelerate
peace negotiations.
The respective Vatican
embassies in Poland and Ukraine organized a Dec. 4-10 trip to both countries
for journalists from five news outlets, including NCR. During the trip,
government officials, nongovernmental organization workers, religious leaders
and residents acknowledged that this war that began just ahead of Easter was
going to give way to a Christmas like no other.
"We are living a
moment of transformation," said Kyiv-Zhytomyr Archbishop Vitaliy
Kryvytskyi, who told the journalists gathered around his dining room table in
the heart of the capital that the war had brought the country together as one
family.
Kryvytskyi spoke for many
of the country's leaders and citizens alike when he acknowledged a desire for
peace, but indicated it seemed to be a distant horizon.
"Every missile that
falls lengthens the peace process," he said. "And peace will not come
the next morning. It is a process."
The cost of war
From his second-floor
office on Dec. 7, Ukrainian Parliament Commissioner for Human Rights (or
Ombudsman) Dmytro Lubinets offered a summation of a November governmental
report titled "The War Against Human Rights": 10,189 wounded
civilians since the war began; 6,595 civilians killed; 12,340 children forcibly
taken to Russia; 440 children killed; 140,000 houses destroyed; 205 religious
buildings destroyed; and 14.03 million people homeless.
The
site of more than 400 mass graves in Izium, Ukraine, is seen on Dec. 8. (Marcin
Mazur)
Downstairs, in his
building's lobby in central Kyiv, staff members scurry about decorating for
Christmas while English-language holiday music fills its corridors. It's just
one scene representative of so many in a country trying to adapt to the new
realities brought about by war.
In the capital city,
thousands still commute to work using the metro, and restaurants and cafes
remain open, merely adapting their menu based on what food can be procured and
whether or not they have the necessary electricity to prepare it. In places
such as Izium, residents are still combing through the remains of their former
homes and workplaces, trying to salvage what they can, while assuring
themselves, and anyone who might visit, that they will rebuild.
The numbers, as outlined
by the ombudsman's report, are necessary data points, but each one tells its
own tale of struggle and loss.
Former
residential buildings in Izium, Ukraine, on Dec. 8. The city was hostage to
Russian forces from March to September 2022. (Marcin Mazur)
The day before the report
was read aloud, on Dec. 6, in the southeast border town of Przemyśl, Poland,
our delegation visited a mother and child center where new arrivals are
provided food, shelter and support provided by CARE International.
At the Greek Catholic
Cathedral of St. John the Baptist, chancery offices have been converted into
lodging, with ongoing construction signaling that the task of welcoming new
refugees is unlikely to come to an end anytime soon.
There are so many stories
under one roof: A room containing 20 bunk beds has been inadvertently transformed
into a playground by toddlers climbing about and running around their makeshift
home, while an elderly woman reads a book, as she reclines against her luggage.
When asked where she arrived from, all she can utter before beginning to cry is
"Bucha" — the city where a bloody massacre in March
left behind mass graves and accusations of Russian genocide against
Ukraine.
A
refugee from Bucha, Ukraine, at the Greek Catholic Cathedral in Przemyśl,
Poland, on Dec. 6 (Marcin Mazur)
In another room is Nadia
(who asked to withhold her last name), who at age 74 just arrived in Poland,
following the advice of Kyiv's mayor, who advised the city's elderly residents
to leave for the winter, fearful that there will be long periods without heat
or electricity.
"When the first bomb
went off, I was at my son's, out of town," she said, recalling the start
of the war. "I came back weeks later but didn't recognize my home."
"I decided to stay
anyway, but now they told me it was better to leave," she continued.
"But I have no plans for my life."
In the city of Rzeszów,
Poland, on Dec. 5, about 20 Ukrainians arrived at the United Nations High
Commissioner for Refugees reception center to take Polish language classes.
Most are shy and hesitant to share their stories, but they call out the names
of their respective home cities: Mariupol, Donetsk, Odessa.
One student — Maria, who
provided only her first name, age 20 — asked if she could write out a short
testimonial.
Maria, a
refugee from Kyiv, writes about her escape from Ukraine at the United Nations
High Commissioner for Refugees reception center in Rzeszów, Poland, Dec. 5.
(Marcin Mazur)
She continued, noting that
half of her family is in Poland and the other half remains in Ukraine: "I
want to return as soon as the situation improves. But we are all grateful for
the hospitality of the Polish people. For now the most difficult thing is to
find a good job here and the prices for apartments."
The outpouring of support
from Poland since the start of the war has been unrivaled in
Europe. Since February, the country, which has a complicated history with
Ukraine, has spent more than an estimated $8
billion euros in response to the largest refugee crisis in Europe since World
War II.
According to Władysław
Ortyl, president of the Podkarpackie region, nearly 4 million Ukrainian
refugees have passed through his district since February.
The government's support,
which has included funds for children starting school and providing medical
care, is based on the principle of "giving refugees the same rights as
Polish citizens," which has been complemented by Catholic relief agencies,
such as Caritas, the Order of Malta and a host of religious communities.
Visit
to the Medevac Hub for Ukrainian refugees in Rzeszów, Poland, on Dec. 5 (Marcin
Mazur)
While Russia has targeted
critical Ukrainian infrastructure in recent months, in an effort to flood
Poland and the rest of Europe and overwhelm the continent with even more
refugees in hopes of stirring up internal dissent there, Ortyl says he is aware
of what may soon be coming and is unfazed.
"Before us is the
possibility of a second wave because of destroyed infrastructure, cold, lack of
water and services," he said. "People want to get out. We are
ready."
Welcoming the 'Prince of
Peace'
On Feb. 25, the morning
after war began, Archbishop Sviatoslav Shevchuk, the head of the Ukrainian
Greek Catholic Church, released a short
video pleading for solidarity and prayers for Ukraine.
Shevchuk and around 100
others bunkered below his cathedral in Kyiv and the following day released
another video, providing an update and spiritual support. Soon these daily
videos became a lifeline to the outside world.
As the war lingered on
with no end in sight, he considered reducing the frequency of his messages or
stopping altogether, until one day he visited the besieged city of Žytomyr.
A
statue of Vladimir the Great overlooks Dnipro River in Kyiv, Ukraine, on Dec.
7. (Marcin Mazur)
"At a parish, a
little old lady approached me to say, 'We live in constant terror, we are
afraid, it is good that you talk to us,' " he recounted to the journalists
who visited him at his cathedral Dec. 9.
" 'But ma'am, I don't
know what to tell you anymore!' " the archbishop replied.
" 'No matter what you
say, it matters that you talk to us,' " she countered.
"Then I realized that
even if I don't know what to say anymore, it is important for people to hear
the voice of their church accompanying them," said Shevchuk.
As the war rages into its
10th month, the country's religious leaders — in a nation where, historically,
church and state already have a paper-thin separation — have been on the front
lines.
Bishop
Vitaliy Kryvytskyi, head of Diocese of Kyiv-Zhytomyr, Ukraine, meets with
reporters in Kyiv on Dec. 7. (Marcin Mazur)
The Ukraine Council of
Churches, composed of 16 different representatives, including Christians, Jews
and Muslims, unites 95% of religious institutions in Ukraine.
"War has given us a
new opportunity to collaborate," said Kyiv's Archbishop Kryvytskyi.
During a meeting with the
council, the religious representatives said that while the Gospel's call to be
peacemakers and their desire for peace is strongly present in their work,
Kryvytskyi also said, "Our obligation is testifying to the truth."
While, historically, many
of the country's Protestant traditions have been rooted in the pacifist
tradition, members of the council noted that those tendencies have been
challenged ever since Russia illegally annexed Crimea in 2014. Even those who
refuse to take up arms, they note, have not shied away from helping war efforts
in other capacities.
And at this point, that
truth-telling of the council, as they see it, means speaking bluntly that, in
the words of Shevchuk, Russia must "stop military actions, stop killing
us."
"This will be the
first step to genuine and lasting peace," he said.
With the onset of winter
and just a few weeks before Christmas, there is uncertainty as to what lies
ahead.
Former
city hall offices in Izium, Ukraine, on Dec. 8 (Marcin Mazur)
High-rise residential
buildings, warned Jan Sobiło, auxiliary bishop of Kharkiv- Zaporizhzhia,
"will become refrigerators" if the country keeps facing strikes on
its power grid.
But how can and how should
a country and the church in these circumstances face Christmas?
On Dec. 14, Pope
Francis launched a special appeal, asking all
people of goodwill to spend less on gifts and other celebrations, and instead
donate money to support Ukrainians.
"Brothers and
sisters," the pope said, "I tell you, they are suffering so very,
very much."
Sobiło said that in late
November, he visited Rome to meet with Francis and saw Christmas preparations
underway at the Vatican.
Destruction
in Izium, Ukraine, on Dec. 8 (Marcin Mazur)
"I wonder if we in
Zaporizhzhia will also be able to have a tree in the square?" he recalled
thinking.
He concluded that was
unlikely, but said it doesn't mean that both churches and individual homes
shouldn't prepare for the arrival of Jesus.
"Christ was born in a
dark, cold cave with the light of a candle, and we too will welcome the newborn
Jesus in the warmth of our hearts, despite the cold around," he said.
"Everyone now asks:
Will there be Christmas joy, will it be permissible to sing or should we shut
up and cry?" said Shevchuk. "I say yes and yes, Christmas will be
there. We have the right to celebrate Christmas joy ... because the Prince of
Peace will be born."
As believers prepare to
welcome the Prince of Peace, new polling
suggests that some 85% of its citizens believe the fighting should continue
until Ukraine regains all of its territories. This Christmas, crucified Ukraine
— martyred Ukraine, as Francis has frequently referred to it — seems very far
from resurrection, though its citizens are unshaken in their faith that it will
one day arrive.
This story appears in the War in Ukraine feature
series. View the full series.
Donations can be sent
to Max Obuszewski, Baltimore Nonviolence Center, 431 Notre Dame Lane, Apt. 206,
Baltimore, MD 21212. Ph: 410-323-1607; Email: mobuszewski2001 [at]
comcast.net. Go to http://baltimorenonviolencecenter.blogspot.com/
"The master class
has always declared the wars; the subject class has always fought the battles.
The master class has had all to gain and nothing to lose, while the subject
class has had nothing to gain and everything to lose--especially their
lives." Eugene Victor Debs
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