Part of the “Thoughts Aloud” mini-series created jointly by the “Sofia Brotherhood” and the German foundation Renovabis, within the project “Contemporary Ukrainian Orthodoxy: Breaking Myths for Reconciliation and Societal Consolidation.” Statements do not necessarily represent the official view of the Sofia Brotherhood.
Ihor Krasovskyi, deacon of the OCU, member of the St. Sophia Brotherhood
Our lives sometimes resemble that familiar story of a knight in shining armor, standing against a great evil, armed only with a sharp sword, a sturdy shield, and unwavering faith in victory. And nearly every such tale contains a moment of choice. The knight reaches a crossroads and hesitates, torn between the passionate cry of his heart and the cautious whisper of reason. The scales tremble – until one decisive argument tips them and defines not only his path, but his destiny.
Familiar, isn’t it? I believe all of us have, at least once, stood at such a crossroads, reflecting deeply before making a choice. We may not have worn shining armor or carried a sword, but we chose using the same time-tested inner compass.
Late February 2022. Every night, the city and its outskirts are burning under enemy fire. Terrified and confused, people don’t know where to run or how to hide from the evil that has entered our shared home. In such dark times, the Church became one of the few places where people found peace, guidance, and intercession – and I was no exception.
But later, as disturbing statements began to emerge from some clergy and believers of my Church – attempts to justify the aggressor’s actions or even support them – the desire to step into the church I’d known since childhood vanished. I had arrived at a crossroads. On one side stood family tradition; on the other – a deep unwillingness to stand next to those who could forgive the extermination of their own people.
I weighed the arguments. The scales tipped. And I found myself at the doorstep of a church that seemed the same, yet different. The same traditions, the same vestments, the same liturgy, the same faces – yet somehow, it felt new. Was I afraid? Absolutely. Did I fear judgment? Without a doubt. Were my fears justified? Not in the slightest.
I was welcomed into the arms of what was new but felt familiar – as a brother. And when I shared my thoughts about this transition with a priest, he told me something I’ll never forget:
“Remember this – no matter where you are or where you’re headed, the Lord God walks beside you. Do not fear change, but go where He leads you, for this is His will.”
We should not fear choosing between jurisdictions, because whether in the UOC or the OCU, we remain Orthodox Christians, praying for victory, peace, and the well-being of our homeland.
Let us not cast stones at those who left, or those who stayed. If there is pain in your heart – bring it to Christ. If there are doubts – seek answers. Because the Church is not walls, nor hierarchies. The Church is the Body of Christ.
I have remained with Christ.
And with Ukraine.
And thus – with peace in my heart.