Ukraine

Peter’s Embrace

John Paul II’s “difficult” journey to the former Soviet republic, with the intent of visiting the numerous Ukrainian faithful as “Supreme Pastor of the Catholic Church.” Kiev, Lviv, and the beatification of the first Greek Catholic martyrs. Beyond polemics

BY andrea tornielli

An “ardently desired visit.” In his first speech, made at the bottom of the steps leading off the airplane that brought him from Rome to Kiev, John Paul II confessed how long and how much he had been awaiting his pilgrimage to the Ukraine. This was a journey which everyone labeled as “difficult” even before it started, because of the lack of cooperation with the Patriarchate of Moscow, who opposed the Pope’s arrival until the last minute. His visit was, on the other hand, welcomed by the other two non-canonical Orthodox Churches (one autocephalous and one that recognizes the self-proclaimed Patriarch of Kiev, Filaret, as head). From the viewpoint of ecumenical relationships, undoubtedly John Paul II’s visit did not attain the results that were achieved two months ago in Greece and Syria or in recent years in Rumania and Georgia. Some time will have to pass before it will be clear if the presence of the elderly pilgrim–who came in all humility to confirm his brothers in the faith–in the long run will have facilitated a dialogue with Moscow or not. The main purpose of the trip, however, was a different one. It was expressed by John Paul II himself in his letter to Metropolitan Volodomyr of Kiev: the Bishop of Rome was going to Ukraine “as Supreme Pastor of the Catholic Church, after repeated invitations, to fulfill the sincere desire of Ukrainian Catholics–quite numerous and deeply rooted in this country–to meet them and confirm them in their faith in Jesus Christ, the only Lord of us all.” Catholics in the former Soviet republic number almost six million. The great majority is concentrated in the western part of the country, in the area of Lviv. The Church in Ukraine is a martyred Church, which was annihilated and sent into hiding at Stalin’s orders after the Second World War, and her pastors were for long years persecuted and deported to gulags. It was John Paul II’s desire to visit them and acknowledge their witness, their faithfulness to Peter, and their martyrdom. He, the first Slavic Pope, wanted to be present “in the cradle of Christian culture of all of Eastern Europe,” on the banks of the Dnieper River, in the place where in 988 the baptism of Rus’ took place after the decision of Prince Vladimir to embrace the faith. “I come as a brother in the faith to embrace so many Christians who, amid the severest of tribulations, have persevered in their fidelity to Christ,” said the Pope the morning of June 23rd, in his speech at Kiev airport, before the Ukrainian president and bishops who came to welcome him. From the very beginning, John Paul II stretched his hand out to Moscow; the Pope did not present himself as a paladin of the West, he did not come to proselytize, and he did not intend to make “conquests.” “As a pilgrim of peace and brotherhood, I trust that I shall be welcomed with friendship also by those who, although they are not Catholics, have hearts open to dialogue and cooperation. I wish to assure them that I have not come here with the intention of proselytizing, but to bear witness to Christ together with all Christians of every Church and ecclesial community, and to invite all the sons and daughters of this noble land to turn their eyes to Him who gave his life for the salvation of the world.” Only a gaze fixed on the face of Jesus makes it possible to humble oneself, to acknowledge reciprocal guilt, to ask and offer forgiveness for the wrongs committed and endured, to start over again. “Bowing before our one Lord,” said the Holy Father, “let us recognize our faults.”

Two liturgies for one airport
Sunday, June 24th, and Monday, June 25th, John Paul II celebrated Mass on the outskirts of Kiev, at Chayka airport. The enormous platform on which the altar stood was shaped like a wooden ship. The first day the liturgy was in the Latin rite, and on the second day in the Byzantine rite followed by the Greek Catholic Church. On both occasions there were many Orthodox among the faithful. This is a sign that ecumenism among the peoples is progressing more rapidly than among the ecclesiastical hierarchies. In his homily on Sunday, the Pope once again used words which contain yearning for the unity of all Christians: “Saint Volodymyr and the inhabitants of Rus’ were baptized by missionaries sent from Constantinople, the greatest center of Christianity in the East Thus, the new-born Church entered the sphere of the exceedingly rich patrimony of faith and culture of the Byzantine Church. This was at the end of the first millennium. While living according to two different traditions, the Church of Constantinople and the Church of Rome were still in full communion. As I wrote in my Apostolic Letter Euntes in Mundum: ‘We ought to thank the Lord together for this fact, which today represents a good omen and a hope. God willed that Mother Church, visibly united, should welcome into her bosom, already rich with nations and peoples, this, her new daughter on the banks of the Dnieper.’”
The next day, for the Divine Liturgy in Byzantine rite, the crowd was much larger. Once again, Orthodox faithful could be seen among the people. Ut unum sint, that all may be one, was John Paul II’s repeated cry. Already the coexistence of the two rites, Latin and Greek Catholic, so different from each other, made visible the richness of the multiform traditions present in the one Church. “Unity founded on revealed Truth and on Love,” the Pope explained, “does not nullify man, his culture, or his history; rather it makes him part of the communion of the Trinity, in which everything authentically human is enriched and reinforced.” “This,” John Paul II continued, “is a mystery that is well signified also in this Liturgy…. In the new humanity, born from the Father’s heart, and having Christ as its head, and living through the gift of the Spirit, there subsists a plurality of traditions, rites, and canonical disciplines which, far from undermining the unity of the Body of Christ, on the contrary, enrich it with the gifts brought by each one.” His words seem to recall those of Cardinal Lubomyr Husar, Archbishop Major of Lviv, who last May presented the Greek Catholic Church to his fellow cardinals as the bridge toward the Orthodox world.

Lviv, an immersion in memory
Leaving behind the officiality of Kiev, John Paul II flew to Lviv on Monday, June 25th. Here, Catholics are a majority, and this was well demonstrated by the crowds lining the streets to acclaim the Pope. The Church has come out of the clandestine catacombs for only a decade, and the joy at being able to embrace the Bishop of Rome was uncontainable. In Lviv, just as in Kiev, the Holy Father celebrated two Masses in the same place, the Hippodrome on the edge of the city, following the two rites. Tuesday, June 26th, during Mass, he beatified two Catholics with profound ties to the city. The priest Zygmunt Gorazdowski, a great apostle of charity and founder of the Congregation of the Sisters of St Joseph, and Archbishop Józef Bilczewski. The latter, who was born in the Diocese of Krakow, went to high school in the Pope’s native city, Wadowice. “For me personally,” the Holy Father revealed, “this beatification is a special cause for rejoicing. The Blessed Archbishop Bilczewski is part of the line of my own apostolic succession. He in fact consecrated Archbishop Boleslaw Twardowski, who in turn ordained Bishop Eugeniusz Baziak, at whose hands I received episcopal ordination. Today, therefore, I too am receiving a new, particular patron. I thank God for this marvelous gift.” In his homily, the Pope invited Poles and Ukrainians to forgive each other, in a land where the centuries-old wounds caused by fights, wars, and conquests are not yet completely healed. “Let us feel ourselves gently nudged to recognize the infidelities to the Gospel of not a few Christians of both Polish and Ukrainian origin living in these parts. It is time to leave behind the sorrowful past.”

With young people in the rain
On Tuesday afternoon, John Paul II met thousands of young people in front of the Church of the Nativity of the Mother of God, in Sykhiv, a neighborhood on the outskirts of Lviv. It was raining, and because of the wind, the canopy over the platform did not succeed in protecting the Pope. But the wind and rain did not stop him. In his wet cassock, John Paul II sang Polish songs and responded to the enthusiasm of the youth. The message he gave them was, as always, demanding but fascinating. “Dear young people, your country is going through a difficult and complex transition, from the totalitarian regime which oppressed it for so many years to a society at last free and democratic. Freedom, however, needs strong, responsible, and mature consciences. Freedom is demanding, and in a sense is more costly than slavery! For this reason, as I embrace you like a father, I say to you: choose the narrow path that the Lord is showing you through His commandments. They are words of truth and life. The path that often seems wide and easy later shows itself to be deceptive and false. Do not go from the slavery of the Communist regime to the slavery of consumerism, another form of materialism which, without explicitly rejecting God, actually does deny Him by excluding Him from life. Without God you will not be able to do anything good. With His help, however, you can face all the challenges of the present moment.”

Witnesses in the “century of martyrdom”
The culmination of his trip was the liturgy of Wednesday, June 27th. John Paul II beatified the first martyrs of the Greek Catholic Church: they are Mykola Carneckyj and twenty-four companions, killed in the Soviet gulags; Bishop Teodor Romza, wounded in a car accident caused by the secret service and then poisoned in his hospital bed; Father Omeljan Kovc, martyred by the Nazis; and the Servant of God Josaphata Hordashevska, foundress of congregations devoted to apostolate. “This land,” said the Pope, borrowing the words of the heroic Metropolitan Yosyf Slipyi, “has been covered with mountains of corpses and rivers of blood.” Speaking of the martyrs, John Paul II said, “Strengthened by God’s grace, they traveled the path of victory to the end. This is the path of forgiveness and reconciliation, the path that leads to the brilliant light of Easter, after the sacrifice of Calvary. These brothers and sisters of ours are the representatives that are known out of a multitude of anonymous heroes–men and women, husbands and wives, priests and consecrated men and women, young people and old–who in the course of the twentieth century, the ‘century of martyrdom,’ underwent persecution, violence, and death rather than renounce their faith.” “In my youth,” the Pope added, “I myself was a witness of this kind of ‘apocalypse.’ My priesthood, even at its beginning, was in some way inscribed in the great sacrifice of countless men and women of my generation. Their memory must not be lost, for it is a blessing. We admire them and we are grateful to them: like an icon of the Gospel of the Beatitudes which they lived even to the shedding of blood, they are a sign of hope for our times and for the times to come. They have shown that love is stronger than death.”