The Reluctant Pilgrim

   It was decided yesterday, upon visiting the Cathedral of Saint George the Dragon Slayer, that I would attend a mass in Ukraine at Св. Юра to see if it is the same as in the States.

The towering facade of Св. Юра

Stroll around the grounds until you feel at home.

   Mass starts promptly at 7:30 am at St. George's for non-parishioners. The roughly 1.5 mile uphill walk from the hotel in Lviv city center had me chuckling at the thought of моя мука, the holy suffering Pilgrim that performs certain rituals of discomfort to atone for one's sins. What a pilgrim I have become.

   The streets of Lviv are pleasantly desolate just after 7 am. No cars, one or two buses, and a handful of pedestrians. The solitude is comforting. St. George's is bathed in an early morning glow that is discordant with the late afternoon starkness that sliced the structure with beaming light and crisp shadows one day prior.

   Every place I go in Ukraine seems to be brimming with Churches--there's one every few blocks. I believe that the majority of them are still operational, but until today, I viewed them only as cultural monuments. It strikes me how deeply religious life is entwined with the mundane here in Ukraine. As an American, one assumes the supremacy of separation of Church and State, and relegation of spiritual life to a few hours on a Sunday before the NFL games start. That's if you're ambitious. If you're like me, it's pretty much limited to Christmas, Easter, Christenings, Weddings, Funerals, and панахиди.

Steeples everywhere! View of the Dnipro River in Kyiv.

  In Ukraine, Church is inextricably interwoven with politics. My casual, lay knowledge of the general principles of Ukrainian Catholicism cannot even approach the complexity of religious identity in Ukraine (even with numerous years of Catholic Schoolin' under my belt, courtesy of Saint Josaphat's Ukrainian Catholic School, formerly of Tacony, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania).

Here today, gone tomorrow...

   Based on what was explained to me by my gracious Kyivan tour guide and his wife, who shall remain nameless, there is tremendous tension between the two major Christian entities in this country. Keep in mind, this is an extremely diluted understatement!

   The Ukrainian Orthodox Church, the Православна Церква, is rooted in [Constantinople] and is readily recognized by powerful political entities in Eastern Europe (READ: MOSCOW). In my ignorance, I am not entirely sure about the nature of the Orthodox Church's relationship with Russia, but I know that it exists.

The famous Софійський Собор in Kyiv. It's like, 1000 years old.

What's that on the refurbished facade? Oh, it's a Russian Imperial two-headed Eagle.

They even put their Imperial stamp on the abnormally large pysanky you see around town.

   Come to find out that famous Ukrainian pilgrimage sites and historical treasures in Ukraine, like one of the first churches in Kyiv, the Софіський Собор, and the ancient monastery brimming with centuries-old saintly relics, the Печерська Лавра, have been commandeered by the Orthodox Church and bear political affiliations with Moscow.

Courtyard at the Печерська Лавра monastic complex in Kyiv

   Every Ukie-American is flashing back to the photocopied black ink line drawings of these nationally-significant sites from their Ukie-School Історія class. Now, know that by paying the admission fee to visit these historical treasures, one is strengthening the ideological stronghold of Muscovy in the cities of Ukraine. PS- Guided tours are generally given in Russian... available in Ukrainian by special request.

Classic Ukie School!

   The denomination of Christianity into which I was baptized--what I have always known as 'Ukrainian Catholic'--is referred to as Греко-Католицьке here: the Greek Catholic Church. Indeed, the style of Christianity came to Ukraine by way of Byzantium--evidenced by conventions like gilded icons and liturgical chanting. This got me wondering why it is called 'Ukrainian' in the US and 'Greek' in the UA. Could it be that the United States encourages ethnic self-identification among its immigrant citizenry, and the Ukrainian-American community wanted to differentiate itself from the Greco-Americans? Who knows.

   My understanding of the main difference between the Greek Catholic Church and the Orthodox Church in Ukraine is that the former affiliates itself with Rome (and the West) while the latter looks toward the former Constantinople and/or Moscow. The implication here is East vs. West, and one sees this division again and again in the Ukrainian social and cultural consciousness. Personally, I wish someone would tell these people that the world is round: if one looks east and one looks west, they will eventually come to stare each other in the face. It all comes full circle.

   Anyway, here I am at 7:30 am attending Mass (which I never do, ask my dad), in a foreign land. Why? Maybe it is because I seek comfort. I never expected Lviv to feel like such a hostile place. Once I stepped inside the храм and blessed myself, the protruding scent of incense transports me thousands of miles away and decades back in time to Christ the King Church on Cayuga Street in Logan.

Entering Saint George's church in Lviv.

   Saint George's is standing-room only for 7:30 am mass. Visceral sensations penetrate me with familiarity while the choir chanted, "Свят, свят, свят, Господь саваот..." okay, okay... so I got there a little late. Forgive me! (Or just add it to my tab). C'mon, I had to walk like two miles to get here. Моя мука, remember?!

Here's a version...

   The mass reminds me of my dad, and of how much I miss him. Although the choir director here at Св. Юра sings the ancient liturgical responses in a slightly different key, I can hear the voice of Тато chanting loud and clear. Much to my surprise, I remember almost all of the words without the aid of a hymnal. How's that for religious indoctrination!

   Bless me Father, it's been a good twenty years since my last confession. I rejected the Church because of its rejection of women, and I cannot subscribe to a faith that espouses patriarchy while relegating 51% of humanity to secondary status. What can I say? Я Американка.

   My intellectual incongruity with Church doctrine does not prevent me from experiencing the power of communal ritual, and experience it I did. Breaking Sacramental convention, I took Communion without first confessing my sins and performing penance. Up yours, Jesus! I kid.

   The wine-soaked bread lodged in my throat as I knelt before the Icon of the Virgin and prayed three Hail Mary's. What happened next was completely unexpected, both for me and the faithful that surrounded me: I lost control and disintegrated into tears.

   In that moment, it was not only Church-goers who surrounded me, but I felt the presence of those whom I knew that it was impossible for to be there. My dad, for one, I knew that he was miles away, probably nodding off on a couch while solving a crossword puzzle. Бабця і Дідо, long-since passed. I could hear their voices signing clearly. I felt the hurt of the people around me, the fear and uncertainty wrought by war. I could smell the blood of conflicts past and wounds anew. A whole host of Saints and Sinners crowded around and pressed up against me, all clamoring for some form of salvation. The pressure grew so great in my throat that it pulverized that bit of Communion I had taken into grainy crumbs that coated my esophagus. I could not stifle my cry.

It kinda felt something like this

   This was no trickle, either--more like a muffled sobbing that I quickly suppressed because such displays are not acceptable inside a church, I imagine. Good ol' Ukrainian stoicism.

   When mass ended, I quickly left and headed back to Hotel Lviv for some breakfast. I could not help but recall my dad's post-Church Sunday ritual: making ham and cheese eggs for us, WIP Eagles pre-game show playing on the AM-FM radio in the kitchen while he cooked. Funny, to this day I still eat that dish for breakfast on Sundays... even if I don't go to church.