Скорбота - це не психічна хвороба

#БутиЛюдиною. #МандрівнаСкіпка. Війна руйнує не лише ландшафти нашої країни, але й краєвиди наших людських життів, залишаючи по собі руїну і страждання, розбиті вікна, дахи і стіни наших душ.

Скорбота - це не хвороба, яку потрібно лікувати, а невід'ємна частина нашого екзистенційного досвіду на Мовчазній Планеті. Коли смерть і руйнування стають нормою, скорбота переплітається з нашою щоденною боротьбою. Хоча надто багато людей обирає бути поза війною та поза політикою, зневажаючи скорботу Іншого.

Скорбота не є слабкістю чи вадою нашого характеру, як багато хто намагається одухотворити і діагностувати Іншого за допомогою своєї вятості високої прожарки, щоб уникнути прийняття глибини горя того, з ким вони працюють, співпрацюють, чи живуть.

Скорбота не є розладом. Таке ставлення до Іншого призводить до стигматизації та відсутності підтримки того, хто бореться з горем аж до втрати ним сенсу життя і болю.

Скорбота - це не психічна хвороба, яку ми повинні соромитися або соромитися визнати в собі перед високодуховними людьми зі святістю високої прожарки. Ні, не соромно шукати безпечного місця, щоб висловити свою скорботу, спустошити свій розум і душу настільки, щоб тільки Святий Дух міг знову наповнити їх не "чимось", а тільки Собою.

Скорбота не обмежується горем за смертю близьких, хоча це, безсумнівно, одне з найболючіших джерел скорботи. Скорбота - це також про втрату наших домівок, спільнот, способу життя, відчуття безпеки та захищеності для наших братів і сестер, дітей і батьків. Ці втрати також є глибоко руйнівними, хоча й не настільки сильними, як втрата близької людини.

Наша скорбота виникає як природня реакція на смерть і страх смерті тих, кого ми любимо посеред цього хаосу і безповоротніх втрат. Скорбота служить нагадуванням про священність життя і справжні узи любові, які об'єднують нас під час війни. Скорбота відкриває в нас нашу людську сутність: нашу здатність до глибоких емоційних зв'язків і спільного співпереживання, що виходить за межі суспільних конструкцій і насильницького поділу людей на своїх та чужих за ідеологічною знелюднюючою ознакою.

Скорбота - це наш спосіб пережити колективну емоційну, духовну і моральну травму та оновити свій зв'язок із життям. Тому ті, хто називає скорботу під час війни патологічною, не розуміють ні себе, ні людський стан і ні сутністі Іншого.

Скорбота відкриває нашу здатность формувати глибокі стосунки і зв'язки з іншими, а також відкривати свої потреби в сенсі і меті у стосунках з Іншим.

Скорбота - це те, як ми усвідомлюємо своє місце не в ідеальному, а в зламаному світі, зруйнованому війною, коли все виходить з-під контролю, коли ми відчайдушно потребуємо відновити та зберегти свою людяність.

Скорбота нагадує нам про нашу спільну людяність за Його образом і подобою, яка відкрилась у скорботі Боголюдині. Хоча знелюднюча роzійська війна має на меті дегуманізувати нас, змусити нас мовчати на Мовчазній планеті, змусити нас покинути плавучі острови і піти на тверду землю ще до сходу Сонця, коли Зеленому Королю і Королеві не дозволено це зробити.

Називати скорботу хворобою означає, що людину ніби-то потрібно вилікувати, щоб дати їй можливість повернутися до нормального функціонування. Але після глибокої втрати вже немає ніякої "нормальності", до якої можна повернутися. Ми змінюємося назавжди. Навіть Син Божий має шрами на Своїх долонях на віки вічні, хоча вже без пекельного пекучого і роздираючого болю, як на Безмовній планеті.

Якщо Ісус не соромився Своєї скорботи у Гетсиманському саду, дорогою на Голгофу, на Хресті, то хто я такий, щоб грати роль духовно невразливого Рембо зі святістю високої прожарки, який не усвідомлює і відмовляється від своєї вразливості?

"Хто я, мій Малелділе?"

"Я з тобою, Ренсоме, як Той, Хто Я є. Я поруч і скорблю разом з тобою. Колись ти станеш не-втіленим, щоб знову втілитися в нове тіло, але вже без скорботи. Зі шрамами, але вже без пекучого болю..."

Миру вам і вашим дітям, люди Мосту Людяності. Шануймося <3
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Тарас Н. Дятлик, Україна
24 червня 2023 року

Grieving is not.... in the shadows of war...

War devastates not only our country's landscapes but also the landscapes of our human lives, leaving ruin and suffering in its wake, with broken windows, roofs, and walls of our souls.

Grieving is not a disease that needs to be cured but an integral part of our existential experience on the Silent Planet. When death and destruction become the unfortunate norms, grieving becomes entwined with our daily struggles.

Grieving is not a weakness or a flaw in our character, as many try to “spiritualize” and “diagnose” to avoid accepting the depth of grief of those they work with, partner with, and live with.

Grieving is not a disorder. Such an attitude leads to stigmatization and a lack of support for those struggling with grief to the depth of losing the sense of life and pain.

Grieving is not a mental illness that we should feel ashamed or embarrassed to recognize and admit in ourselves in front of the spiritual Iron Men. It is not a shame to seek a safe location to express your grief, to make your mind and soul so empty that only the Holy Spirit could fill it again, not with "something," but only by... only with Himself.

Grieving is not limited to the death of loved ones, although this is undoubtedly one of the most significant sources of grief. Grieving is also about losing our homes, communities, way of life, and a sense of safety and security for our siblings, children, and parents. These losses are also devastating, although not as strong as losing a loved one.

Our grieving emerges as an innate response to death and to the fear of death of those we love amid the chaos and loss. Grieving serves as a reminder of the sacredness of life and the essential bonds of love that unite us in times of war. Grieving connects us to our human essence: our capacity for deep emotional connections and shared empathy that transcends societal constructs and war's violent divisions.

Grieving is our means of processing our collective emotional, spiritual, and moral trauma and reaffirming our connection to life. Thus, those who label wartime grieving as pathological misunderstand themselves and the human condition and essence of the Other.

Grieving is about our capacity to form deep relationships and bonds with others and our need for meaning and purpose in our relationships with the Other.

Grieving is how we process our understanding of our place not in the ideal... but in the broken world, shattered during the war when everything feels out of control and when we desperately need to reassert our humanity.

Grieving reminds us of our shared humanity in His image and likeness, although wartime aims to dehumanize us, to make us silent on the Silent Planet, to make us leave the swimming islands to firm land before the sunrise, the time when the Green King and Princess are allowed to do so.

To call grief a disease is to imply that it needs to be “treated” or “cured” to enable people to return to some sense of normal functioning. But after deep loss, there is no “normal” to return to. We are forever changed. Even the Son of God has wounds on His palms for eternity to be and come, the eternal scars without hellish burning and tearing pain.

If Jesus was grieving in the Garden of Gethsemane, on the road to Golgotha, on the Cross... then... who am I to play a role of a spiritually invulnerable Rembo who does not recognize their vulnerability?

"Who am I, my Maleldil?"

"I am with you, Ransom, as Who I am... I am nearby and grieving with you... Someday you will be UnIncarnated... to be incarnated again into the new body without grieving... with the scars... but no pain anymore..."

Peace be with you, the People of the Bridge... and I wish you a Silent Night... to you and your children...
— —
Taras N. Dyatlik, Ukraine
24 June 2023

Brutal Honesty about Spiritual Life

#BeingHuman. Brutal Honesty (part 2) about Spiritual Life. As I continue to reflect on the impact of the ongoing full-scale war on me, on us, -- allowing you to look inside through the broken windows of our souls, -- I want to share with you Part Two from my diary on Brutal Honesty. These are my three temptations and challenges of a grown and "more-or-less" mature Christian (as I thought of myself before the full-scale war) in spiritual life and how I cope with them, trying to remain human in the Image of God.

1. I AM TEMPTED TO QUESTION MY FAITH IN GOD'S GOODNESS OR PRESENCE DUE TO THE INTENSE SUFFERING AND WAR'S DEVASTATION. 

I often question in my diary how a loving and all-powerful God can allow such immense suffering and destruction to occur in our country, nation, and people. I feel abandoned or even betrayed by God and struggle to reconcile my beliefs and theological doctrines (especially from a systematic theology) with a benevolent Deity with the horrors of war. It leads me, frankly speaking, very frequently to question my faith, my trust in God's goodness. I also struggle to see evidence of God's presence or intervention amid the chaos and violence of war. I pray for peace and protection but see no tangible results. This lack of perceived divine intervention leads me to question my faith in God's presence. When I meet with the witnesses of firsthand acts of extreme violence, cruelty, and injustice during the war, when I witness myself the results of the ongoing war, I struggle to understand how God could allow such evil to exist and persist. This leads me to question my faith in God's justice and question whether God is truly in control or whether humanity is simply at the mercy of random chance and the whims of evil people… 

What do I learn from questioning my faith in God's goodness or presence due to war's intense suffering and devastation? I seek comfort and support from fellow believers, with others who share my faith. I am searching for people with whom I get a sense of community as a place to find comfort, support, hope, and strength. I also turn to the Scriptures and prayer. Reading the Word and engaging in prayer as my "battlefield" helps me reinforce my faith and provide a sense of hope and comfort, at least temporarily. Reflecting on the promises of God's love and care for humanity helps a little bit, not much, to restore a sense of trust and hope in God's goodness and presence, even while suffering and devastation when I confess that I understand nothing why and what the Lord is doing in this chaos. I keep myself engaged in acts of service and compassion, especially with the internally displaced people in Ukraine and the refugees "from the other side…." Volunteering during the ongoing war helps me restore a sense of purpose and meaning in the face of adversity. I do not want to lose this sense because of my workload. With all respect to my job, helping others through philanthropy during the war provides me a sense of connection to something larger than oneself and helps me rekindle my hope and faith in God's goodness and presence during war and suffering.

2. I AM TEMPTED TO BECOME DISILLUSIONED WITH THE "CHURCH" AND RELIGIOUS INSTITUTIONS THAT SEEM POWERLESS OR INEFFECTIVE IN THE FACE OF VIOLENCE AND DESTRUCTION.

I feel that the religious institutions and leaders (especially Russian Orthodox and Evangelical) have failed to address the war's root causes and take action to bring about compassion and identification with the Christians in Ukraine. I am sad that for so many Christians in Russia, the war is a holy crusade or a righteous battle against evil forces, which they identify as Western Christendom, and interpret the protection of traditional Christian values as a call to arms and believe that violence and aggression are necessary to defend their faith and secure victory of "the Russian Gospel." I feel very frustrated that they are embracing the extremist ideology of the Russian World that offers simplistic solutions and scapegoats for their spiritual and national problems. I feel sad that they force us for peace and reconciliation and demand our silence. I am so frustrated and sad that the Russian Church has lost its prophetic voice and has become too timid or complacent in the face of injustice and oppression. This leads me, I have to confess, to a sense of cynicism and apathy towards the Church and religious institutions in Russia and a belief that they are no longer relevant or effective in addressing the needs of the people in the Mission of God… 

What do I learn from frustration with the Church, religious institutions, and structures in Russia that seem powerless and ineffective in the face of violence and destruction in Ukraine? I learned to look beyond the institutionalized "Church," whatever it means. While religious institutions and structures can be crucial in providing spiritual guidance and community, they are not the only source of faith and hope. It's critical to remember that Christianity is ultimately about a personal relationship with the One Who created me in His image and calls me to follow His character... and that this relationship can be nurtured through individual practices such as prayer, meditation, and Scripture reading. Focusing on my relationship with Jesus gives me hope and purpose, even when religious institutions and structures seem ineffective. I also try to be engaged in activism and social justice work with the representatives of other Traditions of Faith. Christianity has a substantial social justice and activism tradition, and engaging in these activities helps me restore a sense of purpose and hope. Working towards peace and reconciliation in the "Dialogue in Action" initiative, supporting refugees and other vulnerable populations, and advocating for policies that promote human dignity help me put my faith into action and provide me a sense of hope and meaning in the face of violence and destruction. It helps me restore a sense of faith in the power of the Church as the Community of Hope and religious institutions as the faith communities to effect positive change in this broken world on the Silent Planet. 

3. I AM TEMPTED TO ABANDON SPIRITUAL PRACTICES OR COMMUNITY IN THE FACE OF OVERWHELMING CIRCUMSTANCES.

Working with the internally displaced people in Ukraine and the refugees from "the other side," I feel overwhelmed by the trauma and chaos of the war and find it difficult to focus on spiritual practices such as prayer or meditation. I feel that my faith is no longer relevant or helpful in extreme circumstances, and I lose my motivation to engage in spiritual practices. This leads me to a sense of spiritual emptiness and disconnection from my faith community and, ultimately, from the Community of Hope. I also experience a crisis of faith due to the intense emotional and not rarely physical devastation because of what I witnessed during the war through the other eyes. No, I do not compare my experience as a civilian to the experience of those on the front line or those who were tortured, arrested, imprisoned, etc. But in our meetings and conversations, they often question God's existence or the relevance of their beliefs in the face of such extreme human suffering. They feel that their faith has failed them or that God abandoned them, and thus withdraw from spiritual practices or their faith community. With the constant secondary trauma, I feel powerless working with such people and also very often keep away from spiritual practices, sinking in the doubts, questions, and "Why, the Lord?" 

What do I learn from the emptiness when I abandon spiritual practices or community in the face of overwhelming circumstances? I try to prioritize prayer and meditation. My prayer and meditation are my battlefields with the Lord, like the River for Jacob over the Night. I try to set aside a specific time, although not each day, but at least a couple of times a week for prayer, meditation, and my "battles." I learn to stay connected with my faith community, friends, colleagues, and family. Even if it's impossible to physically attend church or spiritual gatherings, staying connected with my family and faith community provides me a sense of support and belonging. I attempt to reach them via phone, text, or social media, not about work… but about my... our "battles..." Finally, I try to focus as much as possible on the bigger picture. Amid overwhelming circumstances, losing sight of the bigger picture -- the Mission of God -- is so easy. However, focusing on the ultimate goal of serving God and living a life of purpose and meaning helps me provide hope and motivation. It is why I remind myself daily: our Mission has not changed… has not.. not yet.. 

SO AS A CIVILIAN, WHERE DO I RUN FROM THE TEMPTATIONS DURING THE ONGOING WAR? -- "I WILL GO AHEAD OF YOU INTO GALILEE." 

Christ appoints a place for meeting with His disciples after His resurrection: Galilee. He knows and is sure that He will find them there, physically exhausted by fruitless fishing all night long. Even before His death on the cross and before His resurrection, Jesus addresses the eleven disciples and says to them: "You will all fall away, for it is written: 'I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep will be scattered.' But after I have risen, I will go ahead of you into Galilee." (Mark 14: 27-28). 

After Jesus' resurrection, the disciples still felt lost: too many radical changes and upheavals in a short period of time. Although the apostles have already had two meetings with the Risen One, Peter turns to the six disciples of Christ next to him and says to them: "I am going to fish." They tell him, "We also go with you" (John 21: 1-3). 

Every so often, I find myself at the meeting place designated by Christ not because I have believed Him, remembered His words, followed Him, or was looking for Christ at a particular meeting place. Every so often, I find myself at the meeting place designated by Jesus because I run not to Him but away from Him, not understanding what is happening in me, to me, and around me. I run away, even though I have already had meetings with the Risen One. 

My sincere run away from Him is sometimes the path to Christ, the path to the place of meeting with Him, where He will take care of me, His crippled disciple: "When they had gone ashore, they saw a fire of burning coals there with fish on it, and some bread." (John 21:9). He will take care of me and then will ask: "Taras, do you love Me?" 

The path with Jesus is the daily meeting and journey of two friends who have a relationship of trust and love on their "battlefields." Even when I am tired and burdened, when I fail or run away from uncertainty, brokenness, pain... I run away… toward Him... He made an appointment for me on that path to take care of me and assure me: "I continue to love you. Do you love Me?" I believe, my Lord, that even when I run away from You these days, I run toward You, for "where will I go from Your Spirit, and where will I flee from Your presence?" (Psalm 139:7).
-- 
Taras N. Dyatlik, Ukraine
1 June 2023