#BeingHuman. Brutal Honesty (part 3): personal, unsystematic reflections on self-confrontation in a time of war, offered without much theology and without much spirituality.
The consequences of the war in Ukraine reach a long way and will keep shaping this region and the wider world, whether we take that into account or prefer to ignore it. The war has produced a humanitarian crisis, with millions driven from their homes and needing food, water and shelter, and it is hard to take in the scale of suffering among families who did nothing to deserve it, or the human cost this war exacts every single day. It has wrecked the economy of Ukraine and of several other countries of the former Soviet Union, and the infrastructure of our country has been badly damaged. The Church and theological education will feel the effects of this for a long time to come, although our Mission has not changed.
Since I am powerless to do anything that would actually stop this war, I have found a way of coping that helps me face my own thoughts and feelings through a period that has been emotionally turbulent for me, as it has been for so many of us working in theological education during the war. It amounts to taking a hard look at myself and at what I believe, and asking uncomfortable questions about how I might be a better human being, reflecting the image of the Other in my own character while the war goes on.
What is happening in Ukraine has forced me into that self-confrontation in ways I would not have chosen. It has become an almost daily process of examining my beliefs, my values and my actions, and it helps me stay grounded in faith and live it out in a way that is faithful to God and of some use to other people.
These are the questions I put to myself most days, arriving in the form of anxiety, as a psychologist might describe it. What do my faith and my systematic theology actually teach me about war? How can I live out that faith in a way that is faithful to the Other and useful to those who are suffering? What am I doing to help end this war? What am I doing for those who have been called up and for those the war has struck? How can I use what I have to help people in need? How can I live in a way that honours the Other and reflects what I believe about Him and about humanity?
Self-confrontation matters especially in this war, and it does not come easily. I do not treat these inner dialogues as a bipolar disorder, since this war has caused suffering on a scale that is hard to hold in the mind, and becoming overwhelmed by that darkness takes very little effort.
The war keeps putting me in front of the contrast between love, compassion and empathy on one side and the atrocities of war on the other. It also makes me face my responsibility inside a global community of theological education, since the consequences reach beyond those directly involved to the whole international Christian educational community, which chose to take part in supporting the seminary-based refugee hubs in Ukraine and Moldova and in Central and Western Europe, caring for refugees and displaced people, taking part in rebuilding theological education in Ukraine and the region, and taking part in the ongoing Mission of God despite everything this war has done.
In wartime it is easy to fall into praying for quick fixes and shallow solutions. Self-confrontation involves wrestling with hope and with prayer despite how dark the situation is, and in conversation with the Other I tell Him my hopes and my fears and ask for His guidance and His strength.
Self-confrontation has also made me think about resilience and how it is built. I am still learning to face my own response to hardship, which is a painful inner process, and to hold on to faith (Lord, help my unbelief) while adapting to a situation that keeps changing. I am still learning to find ways of supporting other people who are struggling, and of building a sense of community inside this continuing darkness.
I am confronted, too, by my drift toward apathy, which comes from physical and emotional exhaustion and from stress. I dream of one single day without thinking about what this war means for us, for our country, our nation, our Church and those who have been called to military duty. I dream of life returning to what we used to call normal. This war has shown me how little control I have over anything on that scale, and it has forced me to confront my own assumption that any problem can be solved if I work hard enough, or if I learn not to take it so much to heart.
Through self-confrontation I am also examining my own sinful nature, since the same original evil that produces war lives in my heart as well. It feels absurd to write that down, and it is true. I am asking His forgiveness for my anger, my apathy, my pride and my selfishness, and asking not only for forgiveness but for healing, again and again, day after day, even when it feels like going in circles: failure, forgiveness, healing, failure, forgiveness, healing, failure, forgiveness, healing, and hope.
It matters, though, to remember that we are not alone in this, since many other human beings are trying to make sense of the same war, and we can find comfort and strength in one another’s prayers and support. We are learning not to be afraid to ask for help. One response from our theological education community is a joint spiritual retreat that we will hold in Ukraine from 14 to 18 August. This war is a darkness you can almost put your hand on, and it is still not the end of the story. I believe that human beings who follow the Other need to confront themselves, and not only other people, so that through that self-confrontation we can go on giving light and raising hope inside this darkness.
Peace be with you and your families, the People of the Bridge.
Taras Dyatlik, Ukraine
9 August 2023
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