It has been nine months since my last trip to Ukraine. Readers may well wonder why I visit Ukraine during these times of war, let alone twice.
As addressed in my<em> Herald </em>article<mark style="background-color:rgba(0, 0, 0, 0)" class="has-inline-color has-vivid-cyan-blue-color"> "<a href="https://catholicherald.co.uk/catholic-just-war-theory-and-vegetable-peeling-in-ukraine/">Peeling vegetables in Ukraine under the auspices of Just War Theory</a></mark>",<em> </em>I was inspired by Catholicism's Just War doctrine that first time to travel to Lviv to partake in volunteering work.
I had only planned to visit Ukraine once, to at least briefly experience the country and to assist with the war effort. However, after that first encounter, not only did I want to get stuck into more volunteering, I also wanted to discover more of the country and its indomitable people, and to further learn about Ukraine's history and culture, including the consequences of the ongoing Russian invasion (Lviv is to the west of the country, away from the front lines and so not as impacted by the war as other places).
So I returned to Ukraine, this time traveling even further east, right to the capital city of Kyiv.
Just as before, my journey to Ukraine was long and arduous. I flew into Poland before taking two trains to Lviv, the trip spanning two days. I was jubilant to return to the beautiful city of Lviv and meet old and new faces at the Lviv Volunteer Kitchen, where the persistent work to make food for the Ukrainian soldiers on the frontline that I well remembered and took part in last year, still continued.
Lviv is as culturally diverse as it is old, with influences of Ukrainian, Polish, Jewish and Armenian origins. Walking through the Old City, I particularly admired the stunning churches, the majority being Catholic, with one Eastern Orthodox and an Armenian Apostolic church within the vicinity.
Most Catholic churches belong to the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church. A Latin rite church that I visited was the Cathedral Basilica of the Assumption, commonly referred to by locals as the Latin Cathedral. It is an imposing Gothic cathedral with later Baroque influences and is where Pope John Paul II prayed during his Apostolic Visit to Ukraine in 2001.
A poignant moment during my return to Lviv occurred outside the Dominican Cathedral in the city, where a military funeral procession went past carrying the bodies of fallen Ukrainian soldiers. As the hearses went by, the locals and I got to our knees out of respect to honour the fallen heroes and their transition to eternal life.
I was struck by how the people of Lviv were so unabashed in their Catholic faith. On Sundays, churches were so full that many of the faithful stood outside church buildings to participate in the liturgy.
It was common to see cars and buses with rosaries and icons on display. Western Ukraine has often been compared to Poland in terms of its religiosity.
My journey to Kyiv began on an overnight train from Lviv. There was little sleep to be had on high bunk beds inches from the ceiling in an overcrowded carriage. Despite the lack of comfort, it was undoubtedly an experience to attempt to sleep on a traditional Soviet-style train!<br><br>Arriving in Kyiv, I realised it could not be more different from Lviv. I was no longer in a small city that felt it wouldn’t be out of place in parts of Poland and Austria. Kyiv is a large metropolis suited for cars rather than people walking. It contains an array of architectural styles, from neo-Gothic to Soviet-era architecture. I felt I had been transported from Central Europe to Eastern Europe overnight.
Before exploring the city, I ventured to the war-torn regions outside of Kyiv that Russia formerly occupied at the beginning of the full-scale invasion in 2022. I felt compelled to visit these places: while I enjoyed volunteering in Lviv, I felt a need to face the cruel reality of the war.
I took a guide who escorted me through several cities, including Bucha and Irpin.
I saw the ruined buildings where people once lived. Furniture and bookshelves used by the former occupants were visible through the blasted outside walls of damaged apartment buildings.
There were several murals on walls sprayed on in the style of the English street artist Banksy – perhaps they had actually been done by him – a notable one that caught my eye was of a young boy in a martial arts uniform flipping a grown man onto his back.
After discussing it with my guide, we decided the man being flipped must be Russian President Vladimir Putin, who is known for his love of martial arts.
In Bucha, I spotted and homed in on a towering Orthodox church before discovering bullet holes in the church exterior. Behind this church was the remains of a mass grave following the massacre of hundreds of Ukrainian civilians by the Russian Army at the start of the invasion.
Hearing about these atrocities was gut-wrenching, but not as horrible as seeing on the local memorial the record of the victims, many as young as 5 years old, murdered by the Russians.
There were destroyed cars and blown-up tanks still left at the side of the roads. More ravaged apartment blocks and buildings, most notably the once cherished Irpin Central House of Culture, which, as I walked inside, revealed itself to now be mostly rubble.
Not far was the former Irpin Bridge, deliberately blown up by the Ukrainians in 2022 to prevent the Russian advance into Kyiv, and after which the civilians bravely crossed the Irpin River to safety.
Following all that, it was a relief to return to the city of Kyiv and take solace in its rich Christian history.
A city older than Moscow, Kyiv was Christianised under St Volodymyr (Vladimir) the Great, who accepted the Byzantine Catholic faith in 988 prior to the Great Schism.
Since the Christianisation of the Kyivan Rus, the Eastern-styled golden domes of the city’s innumerable churches have glistened in the summer sun.
In St Sophia’s Cathedral, I encountered the iconic Orans of Kyiv, a Ukrainian Marian icon. Ukrainians believe that as long as this icon stands, so will Kyiv!
Afterwards, I visited the Ukrainian Orthodox St Michael’s Monastery, dedicated to Kyiv's patron saint, St Michael the Archangel. Designed in traditional Ukrainian Baroque style, it was demolished by the Soviets and later rebuilt after Ukrainian independence.
One doesn’t have to be a geo-political expert to be deeply concerned about how long this war will last and how long Ukrainians will have to suffer.
There is perhaps some reassurance to be taken from the 1987 prophecy made by Our Lady in Hrushiv, close to Lviv, who pronounced: “I have come to comfort you and to tell you that your suffering will soon come to an end. Ukraine will become an independent state.”
After my most recent trip and two weeks renewing my links to the country and feeling blessed by the hospitality and respect shown by Ukrainians, I can only long for Our Lady’s prophecy of independence and peace for the country and its people to come to fruition as soon as possible. <br><br><em>Photo: Ukrainian servicemen act as a guard of honour carrying the coffin containing the body of a Lithuanian volunteer soldier of the Ukrainian Foreign Legion, killed fighting Russian troops in the Donetsk region, following a funeral service in St. Michael's Cathedral, Kyiv, Ukraine, 7 March 2024. (Photo by GENYA SAVILOV/AFP via Getty Images.)</em>
