BEING HUMAN

Kherson reflections on postponing our grief… We postpone our grief. The war will end for those who are outside of Ukraine. But it will continue for and in those civilians who went through it in Ukraine – traumatized, from the bombings at the front line near Kherson or Bakhmut to the sleepless nights under air-raid alerts in Kyiv or Lviv.

Let me share, then, what is happening in the hearts of civilians (not of soldiers – that is a separate, hard moral topic) who chose to stay, volunteer, minister, and serve the Church and People of Ukraine when the full-scale war began; and in the hearts and minds of those who live outside Ukraine yet chose to remain with them through the war, walking “the second mile,” taking that additional burden onto their own hearts and minds… So…

We postpone our grief to survive the ongoing active phase of the war. We focus on staying safe and finding shelters when needed, on providing for ourselves and our families, friends, and local churches. When death takes so many people from your circle of relationships, grief becomes a heavy, unmanageable burden – it can interfere with the physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual work of survival. By postponing it, we tend to our immediate needs and raise our chances of coming through as human beings, making our way day by day, often with mosquito steps, toward the Mission that does not change…

We postpone our grief to protect our mental health. The war already holds us in high stress and deep traumas; grief on top of that could push us past what a person can bear. Delayed, it can be lived through later, in a more controlled way and with less risk of new trauma – so we can continue toward our Mission that does not change…

We postpone our grief because we have too many funerals. Constant mourning, from before the funerals through them and after, destroys your being. Yes, we honor our heroes who gave their lives for us – for our freedom and safety – even if we do not give ourselves space to grieve, at least not until the end of this inhuman, unjust full-scale russian war against our country and people. When the war ends, we will grieve and cry and remember and mourn our loved ones. But not today. Later. Today we go toward the Mission that does not change, regardless of the number of funerals…

We postpone our grief because of a sense of duty… During a war, we feel highly responsible toward our local churches, theological seminaries, country, and fellow citizens. A conflict arises between the need to grieve and the pull to contribute – to the war effort and relief ministry, to the people around us whom the war has struck. Postponed grief saves the time and the emotional resources that this duty demands, and duty asks us to stay strong and resilient. Let grief in now, and we become weak and vulnerable, less able to withstand what the war brings. Amid the full-scale russian war against Ukraine, postponing grief is how we put first the needs of the larger Community of Hope to which we belong.

We postpone our grief so as not to lose the bigger picture – the meaning of life and of the Mission that does not change. The time is hard; the picture and the future remain. So we stay flexible and adaptive, deciding by the situation at hand as circumstances shift day by day – even when our partners do not like it and their irritation grows…

We postpone our grief, and… it unites us, makes us stronger together – temporarily, until the war ends or we crash… Grief dwelt on now would isolate us, cut us off from the larger community and from one another. Postponing grief does not mean we ignore it. Oh, no… not at all… We will return to it when the war is over and the People and the Community of Hope can turn to healing and rebuilding. That day will come, and we will cry. The war will end for many of our partners but will go on for many of us – in our souls, memories, minds, emotions, and relationships…

We pray for you, the partners: do not leave us alone, and do not be horrified when the grief finally hits us – our minds and souls, our relationships… Peace be with you, and I wish you a Silent Night…
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Taras Dyatlik, UKRAINE
21 March 2023