Cries from the East of Poland

Poland – February 25, 2022

As I write this Kiev is still standing. The incursion has been happening now for two days. As the sun rose the President of Ukraine emerged to signal that they were still fighting, still holding onto their independence. But who knows how long this will last. We here in Poland hear the cries of our brothers and sisters. The border is open to refugees, and we are gathering supplies to help those who are fleeing their homes. Mothers with children are leaving everything behind. Not just material things, but their husbands, fathers, mothers, grandparents, sons, and daughters.

Those who have not fled are hiding in basements around the capital. Others throughout the country are waiting and praying. Our neighbors are dying, and we can hear their cries.

March 4, 2022

There is such a feeling of helplessness. We have been overwhelmed by the number of refugees. Kraków is 127 miles from the Ukraine border. Poland has responded by opening borders and donating goods, food, and housing to those who have made it across. As of today, more than 780,000 people have come to Poland seeking refuge with still more expected to come. We are opening our schools to the children. And we are praying. Yes, we must pray. But what else?

Over the past week, people here in Poland have become increasingly uneasy with the thought that our country may be next. I know people who have already left Poland with their families. This, of course, is not unreasonable. Poland was divided between Russia, Prussia, and Austria in 1795 and was wiped from the map. Independence was gained after World War I and the Polish-Soviet War, which involved a fight over some of the territory Russia is now invading. Poland remained an independent sovereign nation until September 1, 1939, when Germany invaded from the west and seventeen days later Russia began her affront from the east. In the aftermath, Poland suffered under Communist Rule until the Berlin Wall fell in 1989. We are a young country, and we know the might of our neighbors. I’ve heard people saying that it cannot happen. Who would have thought that an invasion of Ukraine with such force and savage ire could be happening in the modern world. And so we pray.

Refugees

As I sit in my very comfortable living room writing this, my daughter is preparing to leave for school. Snow is falling. We have heat, food, clean water, shelter, and above all, silent skies. Life seems normal. As I walk out onto the street, however, there is an emptiness. People are out and about as usual but there are also many families, mothers with children walking around. It is strange to see this in the middle of the day on a Thursday. A time when children are in school. But these are Ukrainian families who have fled. I hear more Ukrainian spoken on the street than Polish. And yesterday as I walked around the corner I almost ran into a woman. She was Ukrainian and needed help finding an address. The Ukrainian language is close to Polish, so between pointing to the address on her phone and a few words in Polish, I was able to help her. I walked with her to the building she was looking for. When we got there, she searched for the keys. Her hands were shaking and I had to help her open the door. She was trying to be calm, act composed, but I could tell she was distressed. She had come from Kyiv.

Hourly reports are pouring in of the war, the refugees, the fear and panic, the sadness. The bombing of hospitals, schools, and innocent civilians. Children are being murdered in the streets as families try to flee. It seems that God is silent. What can we do but pray?

I have spoken with many people over the past week. I have received texts and emails from concerned friends and family asking if I intend to stay in Poland. Yes, I am staying in Poland. And each day I try to continue as normal. But what does that mean?

It means that I continue to follow the rule of prayer. To follow the Divine Office. To ask God to remove my fear and stay present to what is and trust the intuition that comes from Christ.

March 9, 2022

I recently heard that people adapt quickly to war. People adapt quickly. Our lives have been changed in an instant. In the past two weeks, many of us here in Poland have experienced a strange sensation. I’m not sure how to describe it other than to say there is no flavor. flavor and color have gone. It is an internal emptiness. Daily activities seem so pointless. One woman mentioned that she had planned on buying herself a new pair of boots, but when she went to buy them, she couldn’t. It seemed so trivial. Another woman told me she was going on a ski vacation to Austria. The vacation package was non-refundable, but she didn’t want to go. Again, it seemed pointless, so trivial, no flavor, no color.

On a daily basis, we hold back our tears. We avoid the news. We step out into the world to help our neighbors, our brothers and sisters who not only have left everything behind but now somehow must move forward. They must find housing, jobs, schools for their children, clothing, phone service, internet, open a bank account. When I offer to help or ask if they need anything, the answer is always the same: “No. Thank you. We’re fine.”

One of my friends has taken in a Ukrainian family. She asked the grandmother if she could get some things for them. The grandmother said: “No thank you, but a ride to the store would be nice so I can buy the children some slippers.”

The Peace of God

I could write for days about the experiences we are having with more than a million people who have come to Poland. But the truth of it all is this, we must seek the peace of Christ. We must stay with the rule of prayer. We must remember that maintaining our relationship with God is the most important thing any of us can do.

Many years ago, one of my spiritual directors said: “If your house is on fire and you are panicking, you now have two problems, and being panicked is the biggest of the two. If you cannot become calm, you will not be able to find the exit and you will die as your house burns down around you.”

She also gave me another image which helps in the times when I don’t understand. Times like now. How could something like this happen? Again, her simple wisdom rings in my ears: “If you are standing on the riverbank and you are on fire, it doesn’t really matter why you are on fire. You wouldn’t stand there trying to understand the reason behind the flames. Just jump into the river!”

These images have stuck with me over the years. They have instilled in me the need to seek God above all else.

The power of prayer is not so much in the influence my prayers may have on God, but the influence they have on me. I am prone to worry, to fret, to be enraged. The world tells me to fight, to be angry and indignant at events such as these but all that does is fill me with dread and fear. This is the power of evil. The whisper in the dark of night seeps in and rouses me from sleep. Or the noise and worries of the day, coupled with the images and press releases, which seem to prove that in this moment there is no God.

Pope St. Gregory the Great wrote:

Avoid the evil thoughts that roll
Like waters o’er the heedless soul;
Nor let the foe occasion find
Our souls in slavery to bind.

These words remind me that it is in the fear, anger, angst, and worry that the devil gets his foothold. In these emotions, I am torn further from Christ. I seek a human solution and try on my own power to solve the problems of the world, to no avail. And in the absence of a human solution, my fear grows, and God is pushed to the edges, and prayer becomes shallow and pointless… words mumbled in hopes that something good will happen.

A Calm Soul

And so, my soul must be calmed and quieted. It is in the small quiet voice (1 Kings 19:12) that I can hear the Lord. It is in the stillness, stillness that can exist even in the midst of chaos. It is here that I can find peace.

I cannot be worried about the state of the world. I cannot fret over the senselessness of the evil at hand. I am not qualified for this. And, in all actuality, no one has asked for my opinion.

Lord, my heart is not proud;
nor haughty are my eyes.
I do not busy myself with great matters,
with things too sublime for me.
Rather I have stilled my soul.
Like a weaned child to its mother,
weaned is my soul (Psalm 131).

I remember the first time I read this psalm. I instantly thought of my young daughter who would sit on my lap, afraid of something that I knew would not hurt her. I would pull her close and reassure her and she would find stillness and peace.

Can I place my soul on the lap of my Divine Mother and find peace? Can I lay aside the worry and fear and simply trust? Most of the time the answer is no. I cannot trust because I am seeking a solution acceptable to me. The problem lies in the undeniable fact that true surrender to God means the absolute abandonment of self. Abandonment of expectations. The ability to live in this moment, in the midst of chaos and war, sadness and pain, to let go completely.

When I do this, here is what I find. Yesterday I went to the shopping mall that is connected to the train station where many of the refugees are arriving. There is a small play area for children. As I walked past it on my way to the store, I saw about six little children playing. Smiling. laughing. And even more remarkable, the parents were smiling too. I saw people on the street smiling, people in restaurants eating.

The truth is this. Everything is not hopeless.

Our Actions

Every action I take has a consequence. My step in the world has an influence on those around me. Bad actions and good have an impact. The darkness of suffering and fear has been met with love and light. People have opened their homes, their hearts, and themselves to aid their brothers and sisters. We are the body of Christ and when one member is injured we care for it. We treat it with the love of the Divine Physician. We pray, give alms, and sacrifice. And in return, we are given a glimpse into the joy of being a part of the greater whole, of being useful, of giving love with no expectation of anything in return.

We do not need to wait for a war to participate in the lives of our fellows. We can, all of us, take a small step today in our respective communities. Yes, giving to meet a crisis is good. But a kind word, thoughtful smile, or small gesture of peace works just as well in any circumstance. For it is in the love of human interaction that I am truly whole and connected to God.