REPORTER'S NOTEBOOK: The Ukrainian Catholic Church moves to Kyiv (09/18/05)

REPORTER'S NOTEBOOK

by Zenon Zawada
Kyiv Press Bureau

The Ukrainian Catholic Church moves to Kyiv

A scuffle erupted at the divine liturgy, and I was snapping photos when a "babushka" (Russian for grandmother) with an icon around her neck began yelling at me in Russian.

"Why did you come here? We don't want you here!"

I thought I'd ignore her. However, I should have learned a long time ago that babushkas don't like to be ignored.

This one charged toward me and gave me one heck of a shove.

I weigh a good 180 pounds, so I can assure you this woman had apparently spent many years toiling in the wheat fields of Ukraine because she sent me flying.

By the time she gave me my second shove, I found myself flat on my behind, down on the ground, in the middle of a scuffle. The throng of Russian Orthodox protesters suddenly huddled over me, to which I cried, "I'm a journalist!"

Perhaps that wasn't the best move. "From where?" demanded a cynical woman with a sneer.

A police officer cleared the crowd. As I got back on my feet, the God-loving babushkas resumed their pursuit of me. It took another 30 seconds to shake them off.

This was part of my experience at the historic August 21 divine liturgy honoring the transfer of the Ukrainian Catholic Church's headquarters from Lviv to Kyiv.

After the political hysteria died down during the next several days, what surprised me most was that virtually none of the major mass media in Ukraine had reported the verbal and, in a few isolated cases, physical attacks these radicals had heaped upon the Ukrainian Catholic worshippers that day.

Their vitriol included such classics as, "Banderites," "Banderstad," and "Fascists."

Admittedly, they weren't too creative. And I personally wouldn't be bothered if someone labeled me a Banderite. After all, Stepan Bandera is a Ukrainian hero.

The vilest scene of the whole day was when three women protesters stood at the entrance to the site of the outdoor liturgy and yelled slurs into the faces of worshippers.

Many were too stunned to react. Others trembled, restraining their anger. I saw a middle-aged woman reduced to tears.

Clearly, these protesters had received orders from above to provoke a fight.

It was a trap set for the Ukrainian Catholics. Had they taken the bait, they would have been humiliated on television, which could have possibly portrayed them as violent descendants of, well, "Fascists."

However, these followers of Jesus Christ had put into practice the teachings of their Savior: "If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also." (Matthew 5:39)

As a result, it was the Russian Orthodox extremists who looked like aggressors and fools.

As a rational-thinking human being, I can no longer deny that a double standard exists in the Ukrainian media.

Imagine the ruckus created had Halychany done the same to Russian Orthodox worshippers in Lviv. Imagine the outrage had other religious groups been targeted with such hate.

But perhaps that is the burden the followers of Christ must carry. Turning the other cheek might mean you take abuse and humiliation, but, ultimately, you've ensured peace and sanctity by not responding to provocations to conflict.

Some of the wiser Ukrainian Catholics can receive the protest as an honor and tribute. Consider that no one protested a mosque being establishing in Kyiv, or a new evangelical church, or a Jehovah's Witness Kingdom Hall.

"Why are they trying to deny the Ukrainian Catholic Church? Because it is too much of a Ukrainian Church," said Pavlo Fareniuk, 67, a Ukrainian Catholic worshipper at the liturgy.

"Its liturgies have always been in Ukrainian, and it has been a patriotic Church that has defended Ukraine's independence. It became illegal after World War II, when Stalin had hundreds and thousands of priests killed, and the rest sent to Siberia."

He's right. Organizers of the protest targeted the Ukrainian Catholic Church because it has done so much to ensure an independent, faithful and dignified Ukraine. And, it has defended the Ukrainian language and culture.

The spiritual wisdom of Major Archbishop Lubomyr Husar deserves attention. Knowing the possible tensions at the event, he kept publicity at a minimum. Only 3,000 worshippers attended. Had there been more, there might have been more potential for conflict.

Ukrainian Catholic University Rector Borys Gudziak rode in the same car with the Church's leader from Lviv to Kyiv the day before.

"I am impressed with what calm and spiritual integrity Patriarch Lubomyr made this voyage, took this very important step," Father Gudziak said. "It's a step that his predecessors Metropolitan Sheptytsky, Patriarch Josyf [Slipyj], Patriarch Myroslav Ivan [Lubachivsky] dreamed of and waited for. It's a step he made with great dignity and great spiritual centeredness with his characteristic humanity."

I also have my doubts as to whether these people were sincere about their protest. The sight after the divine liturgy was bizarre.

The same protesters yelling hateful slurs against the Ukrainian Catholics were suddenly strolling alongside them on the road back to the metro station.

There were no assaults, no shouting, only a few scattered debates on the side of the road. One Catholic woman waved her handkerchief in the face of an Orthodox woman who insisted she had strayed from the true faith.

Another common thread in all these anti-Ukrainian protests is that the men always seem to be hiding behind the skirts of their women.

During the anarchic Verkhovna Rada debates over World Trade Organization bills, the pro-Russian national deputies handed over some of their football horns and megaphones for the women to carry and create noise.

Yet again, the trap was set. Of course, no Ukrainian gentleman would even think to assault a woman by seizing her megaphone, especially on national television.

It was the same this time around. Elderly women yelled, shoved and heckled. And I certainly wasn't going to shove back a grandmother.

These are the acts of a desperate people who feel threatened by the reawakening of Ukrainian identity that arrived with the Orange Revolution.

Kostyantyn Chavaha, reporter for the Catholic Information Agency, pointed out to me that had the Ukrainian Catholic Church moved its headquarters in 1991 there wouldn't have been a single protest because Ukraine was in a religious and cultural vacuum.

The protests are occurring now because a large segment of the population fears the changes taking place that have left them feeling like second-tier citizens, without knowledge of the Ukrainian language or Ukrainian culture.

As the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church expands into eastern Ukraine, perhaps it will allay such fears.

After witnessing the August 21 conflict, Cardinal Husar offered this vision for the Church in his opening remarks several days later at Kairos, a summit for future Church leaders held at the Ukrainian Catholic University in Lviv.

Ukraine is on the border of two great cultures, Cardinal Husar said, and many view the nation as a bridge between the East and West.

"We have the ability to learn about one and the other and to be creative mediators who help so that people will stop fearing one another," Archbishop Husar said. "Today we stand at a new era."

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