The Shared Darkness

#BeingHuman. #BrutalHonesty (part 6). You may safely skip it... The Shared Darkness That Binds Us: you, us, and all those who decided to step in with us into the touchable darkness of the Valey of Death...

On February 24th, 2022, Russia launched its unprovoked, brutal invasion of Ukraine. In an instant, millions saw their lives shattered - plunged into a crucible of trauma, loss, and gut-wrenching moral injury from which most of them will never fully heal.

For those defending on the front lines, each day brings the starkest horrors. Death skulks are omnipresent amid the relentless barrage of missiles and gunfire. For many, buried trauma compounds with each battle as they witness relentless devastation and lose comrades-in-arms... like our cousins... my brother... Their unwavering resolve comes at a profound cost - invisible scars carved into their psyche that no medal of bravery can erase... although they quite many of them...

Behind the lines, families see normalcy evaporate overnight. As missiles and kamikaze drones rain down and occupiers terrorize, they flee for their lives or cower in makeshift shelters praying for reunification, terrified their missing loved ones may never return. The sheer scope of loss - homes, belongings, community, security, identity - claws at their foundation, threatening to consume all semblance of hope...

And everywhere - malice, cruelty, devastation without end. All darker for its wanton malevolence and complete absence of meaning... and because there is no understanding of how and when the war will end, the darkness takes over and over more and more... shared darkness...

We, theological educators-volunteers, dwell in the crucible, striving to ease those drowning in despair however we can. We aid displaced families robbed of all security, homesick soldiers defending foreign turf, and communities struggling without basic amenities...

Our spirits also plunge into the darkness when choosing to immerse in their suffering. We are not obligated. But we chose to step in... Without consulting with you... Because it is our blood and our shared darkness... our way of following the Mission that ... that has not changed...

The scale of trauma defies all attempts at comfort. No reassuring word or compassionate act can restore all that was lost. It is not your fault... it is our fault... to be at this particular time and specific location of History... it is His will that allowed (why?!) all "these" to happen... We share with our soldiers and broken civilians in the abyss of shared anguish... our very souls screaming out against injustice and searching for meaning amid such senseless ongoing devastation... by the war... by the corruption...

Yet our shared shining darkness also forges a profound connection. Just as we strive to light candles of hope for those on the brink, so too do our partners - you - illuminate our paths. Your solidarity renews our stamina when exhaustion looms. This interdependence makes space for light even when numb desolation threatens to consume all capacity for our human emotion...

And so often, our shared darkness reveals life's essence, too. A displaced mother, trembling as she recounts losing her home and husband to aerial bombardment, whispers almost in surprise, "Now that everything's been taken, I realize what truly matters." At that moment, staring into the void strips all else away, laying life's most profound truths bare... The truth of the shining Darkness of God...

The crucible, harsh as it sears, makes space for revealing life's bedrock. And there, etched into our very marrow, an unwavering conviction flickers through the dark. No matter what is taken, no one can extinguish each soul's intrinsic dignity and worth... We can break and give them away... someday... but no one can take it from us... in our shared darkness...

Elie Weisel, in his "Night," being a victim of humanity's most twisted atrocities, unearthed this bedrock truth even in the death camps where millions perished. "Never shall I forget that night, the first night in camp, which has turned my life into one long night, seven times cursed and seven times sealed Never shall I forget those moments which murdered my God and my soul and turned my dreams to dust. Never shall I forget these things, even if I am condemned to live as long as God Himself," - he wrote, chronicling a journey through every circle of hell. - "No one may speak for the dead, no one may interpret their mutilated dreams and visions... I speak from experience that even in darkness, it is possible to create light and encourage compassion. There it is: I still believe in man in spite of man."

Weisel's words reflect a revelation many Ukrainians describe, too. Ground to dust, we unearth an ember burning steadfast, however dim - that no outside force can extinguish our soul's intrinsic connection to the Eternal...

This foolish, dangerous, childish (in your eyes?) trust is perhaps what hope is built upon in the end in our shared darkness... The decision to love through hate destroys us to the ground, but.... it encroaches. To see God's image in even the most broken souls... And to nurture that divine spark within and between us even as malicious forces conspire to snuff it out...

The shared darkness of trauma will surely leave scars on Ukraine's psyche for generations... and on you, too... on those of you who chose to step in with us into the Valley of Shared Death and Darkness... Yet somehow, even with life at its bleakest, the human spirit chooses resilience. Out of rubble, hands reach to comfort the bereaved and rebuild shattered neighborhoods. Exhausted soldiers somehow emerge from night skirmishes, ready to defend our homeland again at dawn, not because they deny the darkness but because love for family and nation burns brighter still... despite the corruption...

Laying in the rubble is a child's toy... Next to it, a single flower bud pushing up through broken concrete... Signs of life determined to bloom even here...

The shared darkness will long touch Ukraine in the aftermath of the war and, in memory, seared into our identity... But flowers can grow in graveyards, too... Have you ever witnessed the flowers in graveyards, friends? Individual souls can heal through compassion's salve. And national psyches, when faced with unthinkable trauma, somehow can choose resilience time and again... through and by shared shining darkness...

Herein lies the paradox of shining darkness - that even as bullets fly and missiles and drones drop, an undying conviction pulses in each soul and between those united: no outside force holds power significant enough to sever our intrinsic bonds to one another in our shared darkness... and the Eternal Light that binds every living being across time and space. Not in life, not in death, not ever...

Standing together, may we carry this light for each other through our shared darkness... And when trauma threatens all capacity for hope and love, may we nurture the seeds of wisdom planted in our hearts before time becomes time... In life's marrow, an unshakeable knowing carries us forward even through the deepest night: no shared darkness lasts forever. Dawn always comes... even through the strongholds of the shared darkness... Will we... will you... have enough patience with us? Will you? We wish you and your families peace and Silent Night... not the shared darkness visible through the broken windows of our souls...
--
Taras N. Dyatlik, Ukraine
645 days of the ongoing full-scale war
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Photo: early May 2022, Borodyanka

To Uninvited Guests Who Bring Unexpected Grace

#BeingHuman. To Uninvited Guests Who Bring Unexpected Grace... As your #Thanksgiving feasts stretch before you, we picture the Stranger reclining in a Pharisee's respectable home. Yet who dared interrupt but a disgraced woman, weighted by shame, weeping desperately for restoration? Uninvited. Undeserved. Unexpected. Unrespected. She crashed the pretentious gathering and scandalously worshipped at the feet of Jesus - the sole party crasher to pierce religious pretense with raw reverence…

This vivid scene reminds us that we all carry shame that feels too cumbersome and regrets that whisper lies we are unworthy of restoration. Like this vulnerable woman, millions of Ukrainian refugees now mimic her desperation on foreign soil. Thrust unwillingly among unfamiliar hosts by war's cruelty, they come as uninvited guests to your towns, churches, and homes. Yet you have stunned the world with your grace-filled response... like a guest, the Stranger, not like a host, Simon…

Despite the wounds of war leaving many Ukrainians intimately acquainted with trauma's shame, your open arms powerfully model the welcome of the One this woman sought. Your hands passing warm "bowls of borscht" (aid and Hope) to weary exiles reveal His hands passing the bread of life to outcasts. Your compassion mirrors the Stranger who saw beyond her scandalous story to call forth the woman she could become... not for the sake of Simon... but for the sake of the Stranger…

When forgiveness seems impossible, faith foolish, and God distant, this account shouts that the Guest sees us differently than the hosts of this world. He knows the men and women we can be when we fully embrace the restorative power of grace…

So, in this poignant hour between gratitude and grief, we lift our prayer and glass to you, courageous People of the Bridge. For by clothing, feeding, embracing the shivering exile, you point to reckless trust in lavish grace given through earthen vessels like us…

As daunting challenges lie ahead, we draw strength from friendships that transcend borders and from His faithfulness that flows even through fractured ones like ours. May we never forget the hard lessons learned... the sacrifices we have made and witnessed... and the hope that has sustained us... nor waver from welcoming the marginalized so that war-weary souls find sanctuary until the Stranger's Appearance.

May the essence of unrestrained gratitude, unbreakable community, and undying hope be alive in this uninvited woman's story and infuse our celebration as you gather this Thanksgiving. Until we feast together again... peace be with you <3
—
Taras N. Dyatlik, Ukraine
638-th day of the full-scale Russian war against Ukraine

The Rubble of War... Broken and Seen Buildings and Even More Broken and Unseen Souls

As I walked through the streets of war-torn cities during some of my trips to the North, East, and South of Ukraine, I couldn't help but notice the striking contrast between the buildings that have been destroyed and reduced to rubble, and those that have remained untouched...

One of the most striking observations I've made is that the rubble of destroyed buildings often looks eerily similar. Whether it's a residential home, a place of worship, or a commercial building, the aftermath of war seems to erase the unique characteristics of these structures, leaving behind a haunting landscape of uniform destruction.

It's as if the very essence of these buildings has been stripped away, leaving behind a stark reminder of the indiscriminate nature of war...

On the other hand, the buildings that have managed to escape unscathed stand as a testament to resilience and some beauty. Each structure, with its own architectural style and design, tells a story of endurance. Whether it's the ornate details of a historic building or the sleek lines of a modern tall residential building, these untouched edifices exude a sense of grace amidst the chaos of war...

As I reflect on these contrasting scenes, I can't help but ponder the deeper implications of this visual dichotomy. The uniformity of the rubble serves as a poignant reminder of the human cost of war.

Destroyed souls and lives all look similar in rubble – mental, emotional, spiritual, psychological, social... The real rubble of war isn't just brick and mortar - it's what lies unseen amongst the wreckage. It's the shattered souls and broken lives left in war's wake.

Yes, amongst the physical rubble, some buildings survived - reminding us that even in great trauma, fragments of beauty may persist. But for the invisible rubble of our human nature, would remnants of hope survive? When war scatters the pieces of what was home, family, community, and relationships - can our life regain wholeness again? How? When?

In the aftermath, relief workers toiled to remove wreckage piece by piece. Their efforts gave a ray of light, signaling somebody cared for this place and its people...

But who would clear the rubble of our anguish, grief, and unseen and unspoken and unconfessed scars? Who would gather up the scattered fragments of our dreams, joy and sense of purpose and future?

As buildings can be rebuilt, so too lives ... at least some lives may find reconstruction. But it requires steady hands and caring hearts to reconnect what war has torn ... is still tearing apart. Years may pass before the ghostly remains of suffering are fully removed, and some will never be removed... regardless of how much you read the Bible or pray... And these unhealed and broken souls will be gradually moved to the margins and then to the slums of the Past...

As we try to move forward through the ugly rubble of our souls, let's remember to seek out and celebrate the beauty that we ... that you... that us may possibly find among the rubble... that us may possibly recognize in and through our cry and constantly postponed grief.... that us may possibly witness in the darkest and most painful places of our souls... And only those can witness who dare to go down and deep into those souls and minds...

Every night through the anxieties and feeling of loss amidst the rubble of my soul I try to remind myself: «There is still the potential for renewal... I hope that our brokenness will not lead us to eternal Death... That He is graceful enough... I believe... Help my unbelief...»

From even the deepest ruins, some lives may rise again... some may never... But all our broken souls will hopefully be restored from the slums of the Past at least for the Day in the Future.. On that Very Day... Peace be with you Today
--
Taras Dyatlik, Ukraine
633 days of full-scale Russian war against Ukraine

People Bridges of Ukraine

#BeingHuman. In the war-torn Ukraine, a growing breed of people is known as "people-bridges.” It is the most vulnerable community from any possible perspective… They are not “great again.” They do not want “to repeat.” Today, they are the bridges. Tomorrow, they are the dust… not needed anymore by their stakeholders and clients… 

They are the trees that die while standing… They are the candles that burn at both ends to give light… They are the lighthouses that guide ships through the storm but are often battered and broken by the waves… They are the anvils on which the swords of justice are forged but are often worn down and dented by the process… They are the shields that protect others from harm but are often scarred and battered by the blows they receive… They are the ladders that help others climb to the top but are often kicked down once they reach their destination...  They are the torches that light the way for others but are often consumed by their flame… They are the seeds that die in the ground to give birth to new life… They are the bridges that collapse under the weight of many and disappear but allow others to cross to the Cross… 

The cost of living on the bridge is high. People-bridges often sacrifice their relationships, health, and well-being for the sake of the Mission that has not changed for them. They are vulnerable to the pressures of the different contexts they inhabit, local and international. They are vulnerable to the attacks of those who would see their bridges destroyed. They are accused of being traitors by both sides, of not being loyal enough to any one group. People bridges are often misunderstood. They are accused of being wishy-washy, not having an unmistakable enough identity, or not being sensitive enough to one side or the other. People-bridges live a nomadic existence, constantly being between different worlds. They are always a little their own and strangers to everyone, often even to themselves. They are considered outsiders, nomads in a world that demands conformity.  

But people-bridges know that identity or sensitivity is not about conformity. It is about authenticity. It is about embracing the diversity of the broken world and finding common ground to bring it back to the Architect of Time, Space, and History despite our differences in being broken humans. And they continue to build bridges despite the obstacles that stand in their way to the Final Destination… 

The Russian ongoing full-scale war against Ukraine has torn apart families, communities, and nations. It has created a deep chasm of division and distrust. But people bridges continue to build bridges amid the rubble. They are the ones who are reaching out to the victims of war, providing them with food, shelter, encouragement, and medical care while at the same time trying to fulfill "job descriptions..." People bridges are the builders of a Community of Hope, a Community where we are something more than just "becoming great again." People bridges are the hope of the future until both sides break them. 

No, not one side… Both sides… Human beings break them because of their passions… God often breaks them for His Glory or any other unexplained reason… You think that people bridges are strong. But they are not. You think that they are resilient. But they are not. You think they might be driven by a deep love for humanity and justice and a desire to transform the world. Yes, maybe… But sooner, like a father figure, when you do what needs to be done regardless of your "job description…” or the feeling of love, Mission, calling, or whatever you have learned in a theological seminary or a Sunday School class… you do what needs to be done regardless of the attitude toward you… They are the ones who are showing us that another world is possible, whether you love it or not, a world where we can live together in communication and Communion. 

The fate of Ukraine's people's bridges remains uncertain. Will they continue standing amidst the rubble, rebuilding connections between divided communities? Or will the immense pressure finally break them down? Only time will tell if these human bridges can withstand the powerful forces tearing their country, nation, and church apart. For now, they try to persevere in hope, though often hobbled and leaning. Perhaps one day, they will be strengthened and restored; perhaps they may be ready to serve the people who will need them again… maybe not… We believe, o, Lord, help our unbelief! Wishing you a Silent Night and Peaceful Sky, People of the Bridge. 

Taras (crippled evangelical who is staying on the bridge to… whatever happens next…)