Letters From Ukraine: Living Through the War

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One of the sisters with whom I live receives occasional letters from an American friend, Rick, and his Ukrainian wife, Ulyana, who live in Lviv, Ukraine. Both are associated with the L’Arche community in their city.  L’Arche is an international network of faith-based communities of disabled and intellectually challenged adults, referred to as core members, along with assistants and volunteers who live and work with them. I thought I would share parts of two recent letters for your reflection and for your prayer intentions on behalf of the peace the world cries for in this ravaged country.

June 2023.  Rick writes, “There have been quite a few air raid sirens the last two weeks, and last week a drone struck in central Lviv causing a fire and physical damage.” (Drones fly at low altitudes making them harder to intercept with more of them being placed in regions of Kyiv and the front lines.) A young man the couple knows was walking down the street when military recruiters stopped him and forcefully drafted him as a ‘sapper.’ “A sapper is often called a combat engineer because he is frequently required to do the dangerous job of disarming land mines before soldiers advance in combat. The sapper’s mother is given the job of informing families of fallen soldiers about their insurance benefits and details.”

July 2023. Ihor and Mirka, friends of Rick and Ulyana had moved their family close to the Ukrainian Catholic University where Ihor had worked in the information department. “We live in a building across from the campus.  Everything changed in seconds last night…the war is really close. We responded to an alarm but since we have five children and a baby, we couldn’t go to the shelter…we waited in the corridor. Then one quite powerful explosion occurred, followed by one even more severe. The windows in our apartment were blown out. Our exit door was jammed, and we couldn’t get out; we smelled gas. It was dangerous. (We got out) and ran to the Church of St. Sophia on campus.” Ihor describes how on the way another explosion sent shock waves and he was driven to the ground by its power. He saw many people emerging just to check on the welfare of students.

Rick says, “In many ways it is as if we live in two worlds…the war feels closer, and we know people who have been caught in the damage from a missile attack. There were deaths in this attack…there are people who have lost everything.” He concludes by saying, “We pray for peace, and we want to be peacemakers, but we don’t have a clear idea of what that means. Last night there were no air raid sirens in the Lviv region. We slept better. But for people who lived through the attack is it possible for them to sleep? Violence breeds violence like a cancer. It feels to me like the insanity of the war Russia began in Ukraine has metastasized to unleash violence around our earth. May we all discover the humility necessary to live in peace.”

Reflection

Rick describes what it is like to be awakened at 3 a.m. from a missile explosion and to wait for seconds in silence anticipating the next one as he and Ulyana crawl to the ‘two-wall’ safety of the corridor of their apartment building until the bombing is over.

In the writings of Caryll Houselander, I have learned that when terrifying fear grips people, they give all their energy to hiding and surviving. However, those of us not in that dilemma, can ‘accompany’ them through disciplined meditation of their circumstances and through selfless prayer for their well-being. We can quiet ourselves and think of the situation for which we are praying. We can enter into that situation mentally. Saint Ignatius Loyola described this effort as necessary to a fuller, grace-laden experience of meditation. It lends itself to an authenticity of the contemplative intention. Authentic contemplative prayer leads to community, says Sarah Bachelard, writer and scholar of contemplative prayer. In other words, in your prayer make a conscious effort to connect to the suffering people of Ukraine. In your imagination, conjure the sounds of war a young family hears as they huddle in fear, as did the family in the above example. Listen to the windows being shattered and feel the hand of a child shaking with fear. Pray to connect, to make community with someone at that moment needing your prayer.

Houselander used to ‘connect’ this way with families and military facing death in World War II, especially as the War invaded parts of her native England. Her writings are considered major contributions to the literature of contemplative prayer. We know that many psychologists have attested to the powerful impact one can make in the deep accompaniment of oneself with the suffering of others. The result of such ‘accompaniment’ is ‘restoration,’ a restoration of whatever is needed for those with whom you have connected. It might be the restoration of courage, or peace, or normal life, or democratic ideals. Keep in mind that you are connecting with people in need and thus accompanying them toward a ‘restoration’ or solution to that need.

This week let’s make every effort to connect with the Ukrainian people. Let’s ask for an end to killing and an end to this war of evil domination. 

To my faithful readers and my Anonymous Angels, thank you for all your comments on the posts and in private emails concerning my topics. Can you share some thoughts publicly about this kind of contemplative prayer so needed now?

And—let’s pray for those consumed in the hellish fires of run-away climate decimation through this summer’s heat. Another post will be coming on the charity needed at this time…