Stunning images of priests standing in the midst of protestors and riot police in the Ukraine appeared last week on blogs around the world. Draped in their colorful epitrachelia (stoles worn around the neck) and “armed” only with icons or crucifixes, they cropped up like small oases of peace and prayerful presence straddling a minefield of potential violence.
No one knows what tomorrow’s news will be. It is not even clear who is on what side or why and how suddenly any of that could change. Passions, nonetheless, run very deep, since at the core of them lies a power struggle between the freedom the heart seeks and the forces that would control, channel or repress it.
Even as we write, though historical circumstances differ from those in the Ukraine – where East meets West and often not as friends – similar polarities are in play in Venezuela, the Middle East and other regions where conflicts emerge first as protests and, when demonstrators start tiring, as planned, yet mercilessly indiscriminate acts of violence we customarily call terrorism. One woman interviewed in Egypt – does it matter which side? – spoke of how weary people have become of protests and are resorting to targeting police and law-enforcement vehicles directly.
The worthiest of causes when taken to the streets can easily turn a peaceful march into a riot when emotions are revved up by noise, the momentum of rhythm and any available projectile from an angry fist. No one ever agrees on who throws the first stone or fires the first shot. There is never only one punch or one bullet. Unless, of course, someone will follow the counsel of last Sunday’s Gospel to “turn the other cheek.” How difficult is that! And how necessary.
The courageous priests who have taken to the streets to be with their people – police and protestors – seem to come from everywhere. Most of them, no doubt, are non-Catholic Christians, given that the majority of Ukrainians follow Eastern Orthodoxy, though divided between the Kiev and Moscow Patriarchates. Some follow Greek Catholicism. Such religious varietals parallel somewhat the political and cultural allegiances in the country where the degree of loyalty to Moscow – or distance therefrom – is under contention. The deepest roots, however, run to the heart of what it means to the human soul to be free and what kind of sociopolitical order will respect this fundamental human need.
The priestly presence bears powerful witness to the hope that the Cross offers to all who suffer the scourges of violence, oppression and repression. Virtually every priest standing between the lines carries a cross which he bears aloft or brings to the lips of a penitent who kneels for a blessing or for sacramental absolution.
What can we learn from this? None of us can know the circumstances in our personal lives – in our relationships, families, neighborhoods or country – where the threat or incidence of violence may well up, slowly or suddenly. It can happen anytime, in or around a bedroom, a schoolyard, a vehicle of transportation or a women’s “health” center – some act of violence that threatens, maims or destroys a human life. Whether it starts with the swing of a fist, a bottle or a scalpel, it is possible that someone else may find the time and the courage to be there with the only alternative to violence: the Cross of God’s mercy and forgiveness.
The challenge to every Christian who believes in the healing, peace-giving power of the Gospel is to follow the good example of the courageous priests in the Ukraine: to be present, prayerfully and courageous, at the very core of where the violence can erupt at any time, whether on the streets, in the home or alongside another beating heart. Wherever we are – personally – we cannot hide the light of our faith and love for the Lord under a bushel basket, as the Lord Himself says, or behind a curtain, an office, a role or a position.
We do not have to beat people over the head with the message, as Pope Francis wisely warns us. But neither can we keep the world’s Savior locked up in a tabernacle and expect the world to change. No Jesus, no peace!
