From a Ukrainian parish

Zakarpattia. Peredhiria [the foothills of the Carpathian Mountains] is a place where the clear skies seem to merge into an almost matching blue of the pines, quick flowing highland rivers, especially the noisy one running past the village of Syniak. I was walking up the village’s only rugged street leading from the resort [where I was staying] when I spotted a large church on the right.

The vespers service was in progress. The interior was solemn and clean, a typically Catholic interior [I told myself]. Those present — a sizable audience, including young and old — were intoning the prayer. The priest was addressing the audience in German with a young pretty girl standing by his side interpreting in Ukrainian.

Father Jozef Trunck was telling about abominable local events. Someone had stolen something from a humanitarian aid shipment delivered to a neighboring village. The thief had been detected and identified as a young fellow living somewhere in the neighborhood. What was to be done about him? His father had thrown him out of the house. The worst thing to be done under the circumstances or so the priest thought. It was a gesture of little avail, if any. Perhaps the fellow should be arrested. No! His place was not behind bars but in our Lord’s Forgiving Heart, delivered there by words of prayer from fellow villagers, members of the congregation. Because what he had perpetrated must have been conjured up by the demons enslaving his soul. In any case, he could not be left alone to deal with the demons, for such is the stand any Christian should take.

In the absolute stillness of the church audience listening to Father Jozef’s final words, one could discern a definite shade of distrust. The common folk present could not bring themselves to view the situation as allowing to show mercy for whom? The thief! All right, they knew from The Word that one was supposed to forgive and love one’s neighbor. But there was this thief. He had to be punished, not prayed for! Meanwhile the German priest quietly and solemnly reminded those present of His words, “That ye resist not evil: but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also.”

All received the divine instruction silently, yet everybody was thinking it was simply not possible. Suppose a thing like that happened to him or her. So what? Punishment? Yes, but the Rev. Father Trunck was saying differently, and it was also important. After the sermon, the congregation stayed for further prayer, intoning the text and singing hymns in Ukrainian.

After the service I asked around who I should seek to interview about the local religious community. They said to find a man named Yuri. He was generally respected and addressed on a first-name basis by everybody. I did and was not disappointed.

The man’s name in full was Heorhy D. Plavaiko [Heorhy corresponds to both George and Yuri]. He is one of the religious community’s leaders, in lay world director general of a limited liability company titled Saint Raphael. He is small and physically handicapped.

The Day: My first question is obvious. Why the German temple and priest in this Ukrainian locality?

Heorhy Plavaiko: Count Schonberg of Bavaria and Austria settled here in 1710, bringing his German retinue. He built palaces, laid out hunting grounds, organized forestry, and his people founded the village of Syniak (no one knows where the name comes from; the root is

syni , Ukrainian for blue; perhaps from the color of the water; I was shown a postcard dating from 1928, featuring a local landscape and the village’s name in Latin).

The Day: What has attracted so many people here? Why the resort?

H. P. : It’s a spa, actually, for a medicinal spring was discovered very many years ago. The spa was founded after World War II.

The Day: How did the Soviet authorities react to the German residents of Syniak after the war?

H. P. : They acted on Stalin’s orders, deporting the Syniak German residents to Siberia, precisely to Tiumen, but some were allowed to return under Khrushchev.

The Day: Was the German church there at the time?

H. P. : Yes, the church was built God knows how many years ago, named for the Holy Cross. After the war, the Soviets said the church could not be located anywhere near the school, so they used bulldozers to tear it apart. They destroyed the church.

The Day: How did you personally conceive the idea of building a house of God?

H. P. : I am a local. My father used to be a forest ranger. We are Ukrainians and experience shows that everything is done accirding to His will. I was a child when I fell and was crippled for life. I spent years in hospitals. Yet here I am, more or less in one piece, a university graduate with a degree in economics. For a number of years I worked as the spa’s general manager.

The Day: What inspired you? Some sign?

H. P. : It happened as I was walking past the old church and stumbled on what was left of the altar. What I found was made of wood, with a crucifix. Yes, it was a sign. I promised myself I would have the church rebuilt. I started collecting old photos and documents. Later, I arranged for land allocation and blueprints. It was hard. I fell ill and then they told me there were people from the Vatican City wishing to see me, among them the Kyiv embassy’s secretary. We met, and they said they had documents showing precisely what Roman Catholic churches were located in Ukraine and where. Syniak was on the list. They came because they had learned that I wanted to rebuild the church. I said it was true, and they offered help.

The Day: When did the German priest appear?

H. P. : Father Jozef appeared in 1995, accompanied by a nun. He stayed. We had our religious community officially registered and started praying with him, first at an old daycare center by then re-equipped.

The Day: How was the old temple rebuilt? Who paid for it?

H. P. : We began getting money from Germany, private donations and contributions from local religious communities. I did the managing.

The Day: Wasn’t it strange that people living in a different country, knowing next to nothing about a Ukrainian village, should send their money, considering that many were not rich and could ill- afford it?

H. P. : It was, but not that often. I met with some of them in Germany. Among them were ordinary people and clergymen who had not the slightest idea about the Ukrainian village of Syniak. They just wanted to help instill [Christian] love where it was badly needed. That was how they felt. A German woman told me, “It was so hard for me after the war; other people helped me, and now I want to help others as well.”

The Day: What about other clergymen coming here and settling?

H. P. : It’s true that none of them had any idea about this place. Well, they came eventually and looked into our eyes, and so did we. They realized that the people needed them. I’m amazed at their patience. They are helping all those homeless, drunks, Roma, people that would be roughed up and thrown out — or thrown behind bars at best — otherwise. I can tell you I have not achieved that level of empathy.

The Day: You are doing a great deal that is concrete.

H. P. : I set myself the task to rebuild the church, and I’m trying to do everything possible. Money, cement, bricks, it was all on me when we started. The Germans are collecting clothes, medications, arranging for all those humanitarian aid shipments. For example, they buy and then hand out cabbage and potatoes. Our government machine is such that, with all those border checkpoints and red tape, helping us in any way [from abroad] is extremely difficult.

Yet we still have all those German citizens enthusiastically helping us. First, they kept sending humanitarian aid, then they figured out the situation and said no, it won’t work. Your people have grown so accustomed to waiting in lines, they must receive help and be given jobs. We must set up a firm, so people can start earning their living rather than standing in lines or begging in the street.

Well, I made up my mind and got down to business. We already have a cabinet-making shop, sawmill, and we do some farming. We have a neat little house by the [old] church where we gather to sing hymns, have tea with the children, and we organize soirees for local pensioners. Our next step will be organizing German language courses.

The Day: You mean local ethnic Germans will master the language and eventually leave for the fatherland? But perhaps people should continue to live where they were born?

H. P. : I don’t think so. Man must live not where he was born, but where he thinks he should live. There have been times when Germans found life in Germany hard, so they immigrated, settling also in Ukraine. Now the situation in this country is such that I can only wonder at those not planning to leave. I also used to think that I would never leave Syniak and that I would build a real modern spa here. I spared neither time nor money. It lasted so many years. And now it’s clear to me that nothing can be done under the circumstances. The same characters are still in office; they are everywhere, and there is nothing anybody can do about it. At one time I felt on the verge of collapse, and then I must have received His message to build the church. So the new church will be on the old foundations, it will be even better, larger, and more beautiful. For such is His will.

The Day: Meaning that the Lord loves you all?

H. P. : We the faithful say that the Lord loves those He puts to the trial.

The Day: Which of the preachers’ words do you consider most significant?

H. P. : They say one must always expect fellow humans to be virtuous in the first place. I still have to learn to forgive others’ sins and guilt, but I know one thing; it’s most important to pray to God for every mortal.

* * *

The crystal clear Carpathian air seemed to have cleansed my mind somewhat. I though that I — and perhaps many others like me — still had to learn the simple yet so very necessary Christian canons, ones that the people of Syniak have begun to think over and practice with the aid of their German pastors.

We continue to look for enemies, so we can fight them ruthlessly and daily. We compete for getting closer not to our Lord but to power. And what of our souls?