A team from Taizé has just spent several weeks in Ukraine. From the west to the east of the country, two brothers and a couple of Hungarian origin who have lived in Taizé for more than twenty years were able to visit some fifteen cities. They share some of their impressions here.

 

Echoes of the stay in the city of Zhytomyr, west of Kyiv

Zhytomyr became our home for two weeks. The warm welcome and the many people we met left a deep impression on us. It took only a few days for us to feel at home—not only at the parish, with the Pallottine Fathers who welcomed us, but also on the streets, on public transportation, at the market, and in the small cafés.

We weren’t there to talk about Taizé, but to share in the lives of the people of this city, where we had already made many friends in the past, and to listen to them. At each of our meetings, we asked three questions. The first, the simplest, but also the most important after nearly five years of intense war, was “How are you?” Next: “What are you afraid of?” And finally: “What are your hopes?”

We received replies, heart-wrenching testimonies, all tied to this surreal existence amid the war that is ravaging the country. I was deeply moved by the courage and resilience of every person I met. Each, in their own way, is finding ways to resist this horrific war. We visited numerous projects, organizations, and collectives that are taking care of the local population and the soldiers on a daily basis, but are also preparing for the postwar period.

I’d like to share a conversation that has stayed with me—in my ears and in my heart—that I can’t seem to forget. On the last evening of our stay in Zhytomyr, during a very beautiful prayer service, we were able to thank the residents of the city and the parish, all those who had welcomed us with open arms and open hearts. Because of the numerous alerts about drone and missile attacks, we ended the evening by taking shelter in the basement. No one wanted to say goodbye, so the conversations continued over tea and cookies.

But at some point, the curfew forced everyone to go home, and we had to say goodbye. A young woman came up to me. She had attended one of our meetings and had been a great help to us by translating when needed. “Do you have a minute? I’d like to tell you something.”

Of course, I had all the time in the world to listen to what she had to say. “During our last meeting, you asked me some questions. I answered them without thinking too much about it, but since then, something has come to mind. It’s important; I have to tell you. I’ve been thinking, and now I know what I’m afraid of, I’m 23 years old; I have friends, but I don’t have a boyfriend. Someday, I’d like to get married, start a family and have children. I know, without a doubt, that I have a soulmate. He exists; he’s out there somewhere, even if I don’t know him yet. But unfortunately, like most of our finest men, he must be on the front lines. Do you know what I’m afraid of? I’m afraid he’ll be dead before we’ve even had a chance to meet, before we’ve had a chance to get to know one another.”

I could hear the warning sirens wailing for the umpteenth time that evening. I saw the eyes of the young woman across from me shining despite the tears welling up. And I saw an entire generation of young people, full of life, who long to live in a better world, where peace would not be just a mirage, a reality reserved for a privileged few, or a word stripped of its meaning.

The existential questions asked by young Ukrainians

After two and a half very intense weeks in Ukraine, we’re having a hard time getting back into the rhythm of our orderly lives. The daily challenges and risks faced in a country that has been at war for four and a half years are so different from those we’re used to in our peaceful countries.

During this visit, we were deeply moved by the existential questions that young Ukrainians are asking themselves. All of them feel, with a pressing urgency, the need to make a conscious choice about their future in the face of their country’s complicated situation and the various calls they hear. Many have chosen to serve in the military and have left everything behind. Many others have thrown themselves heart and soul into various charitable and social organizations serving the most destitute and the most vulnerable. And many are studying psychology and preparing to treat the many wounds that everyone must bear and heal in the wake of the war. Their choices differ, but what strikes us is the clarity of vision and creative strength of all those we have met.

We have left Ukraine physically, but our hearts, our thoughts, and our prayers remain with all our friends, young and old, who are entering their fifth winter of war. We are grateful to them for showing us the way through their courage and determination.