Don't Look Away From Evil
Illustration
Stories
“The Lord will keep you from all evil; he will keep your life. The Lord will keepyour going out and your coming in from this time on and forevermore.” Psalm 121:7-8
“And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil.” John 3:19
If I was younger, and in better health, I would go to the Polish border with Ukraine and peel potatoes for the thousands of refugees who are fleeing from the brutal Russian invasion. Steven Givot from Spring, Texas, has done just that. He volunteers for the World Central Kitchen in Przemsyl, Poland, that feeds as many as 37,000 a day. He tells about spending eight hours peeling potatoes and cutting apples on his first day. The next day Steven was asked to chop a few hundred pounds of veal and beef cheeks.
But it is not just the physical labor that takes a toll. Givot says, “When I got into the car at 6:15 am, there was a heavy frost on the windshield. I burst into tears. Many thousands of people are walking to the border day and night with nowhere to rest or warm up. It was 27 degrees, and the sun had been up for a while. I was toasty warm from my lodging, but the car was cold, and I felt the cold of those marching to safety: women, children, elderly men. People walking with canes, people being pushed in wheelchairs with their laps loaded with whatever they could salvag from a lifetime. Please read that last sentence aloud.”
And then Steven asks us to imagine ourselves in that situation: “If you were forced to leave your home on foot, what would you select to take to your new future which, in most cases, is somewhere you don’t yet know. To someplace where the language is not only different, the alphabet is different. What would you bring for your future, or for your baby, your child? Would you take something for your husband, not knowing whether you would ever see him again?”
President Volodymyr Zelensky visited wounded civilians in a Kyiv hospital this week. Among them was 16-year-old Katya whose family “…came under fire from the Russians during the evacuation of from Vorzel. She covered her brother, Igor, with her body. When Katya started bleeding, eight-year-old Igor got out of the car and started shouting at the Russians to stop.”
Buzz Feed News reporter, Christopher Miller writes about Ahafiya Vyshyvana, who lost both of her sons in six days. Vasyl and Kyrylo were “…buried side by side, in plots that had been reserved for her and the boys’ father. The roses piled atop Vasyl’s grave had barely wilted before she put Kyrylo in the ground….”
According to Miller, “Vasyl, a 28-year-old senior lieutenant and paratrooper who first joined Ukraine’s armed forces as a fresh-faced 20-year-old in 2014, was killed by Russian forces on the southern front in Mykolayiv on March 3, 2022. The fighting was so intense there that it took days for the army to recover his body and evacuate it to Duliby. Vasyl’s casket arrived sealed shut… On March 13, 2022, Kyrylo, 35, died amid a barrage of Russian missiles that struck the International Center for Peacekeeping and Security in Yavoriv, a town that sits ten miles from the border with Poland....”
When I see these stories in the news I want to look away. I cannot imagine burying my children or watching my grandchildren suffer the ravages of war like this. I want to see this horror. But then I am reminded of who and whose I am. I follow one who did not look away from the suffering of others, indeed took their suffering upon himself.
Brene Brown, a professor at the University of Houston who specializes in vulnerability research, recalls that her mom taught her “…never to look away from people’s pain.” She says, “The lesson was simple: Don’t look away. Don’t look down. Don’t pretend not to see hurt. Look people in the eye, even when their pain is overwhelming. And when you are in pain, find the people who can look you in the eye.”
Lesia Karpanke, Ukranian poet and traveler, invites us to look fully upon the faces of the Ukranians:
Imagine hearing and seeing the explosions every day and still managing to have hope, believe in the future, and stay optimistic.
Imagine hearing about people you know who were killed for no reason.
Imagine seeing how your town is bombed.
Imagine your day starts with checking if everyone is alive.
Maia Mikhaluk, whose first grandchild, Briana, was born in the midst of the war in a Kyiv hospital that has not yet been bombed, and who will live the first days, perhaps the first months of her young life in a bomb shelter, writes, “We are affected by war, but we are not defined by it! We are defined by our love for God, for our land, for our family! The war will end soon, this nightmare will pass! Life will overcome death. The light will overcome the darkness!”
We must not look away from Ukraine. Indeed, we cannot without sacrificing our own humanity. I wish I could go to Poland to help.
Steven Givot says, “Volunteers are always welcome at the World Central Kitchen in Przemsyl, Poland, eight miles from the major border crossing from Ukraine.
He warns though, “If you want to come find lodging first. Getting here is no problem. You can fly into Warsaw or Rzeszow.
The address here where we work is:
Bohaterów Getta 63
37-700 Przemysl
Poland
People show up around 8 am. Dress warm. It is cold inside much of the day.”
You can give to World Central Kitchen here.
*****************************************
StoryShare, March 5, 2023 issue.
Copyright 2023 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 5450 N. Dixie Highway, Lima, Ohio 45807.
“And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil.” John 3:19
If I was younger, and in better health, I would go to the Polish border with Ukraine and peel potatoes for the thousands of refugees who are fleeing from the brutal Russian invasion. Steven Givot from Spring, Texas, has done just that. He volunteers for the World Central Kitchen in Przemsyl, Poland, that feeds as many as 37,000 a day. He tells about spending eight hours peeling potatoes and cutting apples on his first day. The next day Steven was asked to chop a few hundred pounds of veal and beef cheeks.
But it is not just the physical labor that takes a toll. Givot says, “When I got into the car at 6:15 am, there was a heavy frost on the windshield. I burst into tears. Many thousands of people are walking to the border day and night with nowhere to rest or warm up. It was 27 degrees, and the sun had been up for a while. I was toasty warm from my lodging, but the car was cold, and I felt the cold of those marching to safety: women, children, elderly men. People walking with canes, people being pushed in wheelchairs with their laps loaded with whatever they could salvag from a lifetime. Please read that last sentence aloud.”
And then Steven asks us to imagine ourselves in that situation: “If you were forced to leave your home on foot, what would you select to take to your new future which, in most cases, is somewhere you don’t yet know. To someplace where the language is not only different, the alphabet is different. What would you bring for your future, or for your baby, your child? Would you take something for your husband, not knowing whether you would ever see him again?”
President Volodymyr Zelensky visited wounded civilians in a Kyiv hospital this week. Among them was 16-year-old Katya whose family “…came under fire from the Russians during the evacuation of from Vorzel. She covered her brother, Igor, with her body. When Katya started bleeding, eight-year-old Igor got out of the car and started shouting at the Russians to stop.”
Buzz Feed News reporter, Christopher Miller writes about Ahafiya Vyshyvana, who lost both of her sons in six days. Vasyl and Kyrylo were “…buried side by side, in plots that had been reserved for her and the boys’ father. The roses piled atop Vasyl’s grave had barely wilted before she put Kyrylo in the ground….”
According to Miller, “Vasyl, a 28-year-old senior lieutenant and paratrooper who first joined Ukraine’s armed forces as a fresh-faced 20-year-old in 2014, was killed by Russian forces on the southern front in Mykolayiv on March 3, 2022. The fighting was so intense there that it took days for the army to recover his body and evacuate it to Duliby. Vasyl’s casket arrived sealed shut… On March 13, 2022, Kyrylo, 35, died amid a barrage of Russian missiles that struck the International Center for Peacekeeping and Security in Yavoriv, a town that sits ten miles from the border with Poland....”
When I see these stories in the news I want to look away. I cannot imagine burying my children or watching my grandchildren suffer the ravages of war like this. I want to see this horror. But then I am reminded of who and whose I am. I follow one who did not look away from the suffering of others, indeed took their suffering upon himself.
Brene Brown, a professor at the University of Houston who specializes in vulnerability research, recalls that her mom taught her “…never to look away from people’s pain.” She says, “The lesson was simple: Don’t look away. Don’t look down. Don’t pretend not to see hurt. Look people in the eye, even when their pain is overwhelming. And when you are in pain, find the people who can look you in the eye.”
Lesia Karpanke, Ukranian poet and traveler, invites us to look fully upon the faces of the Ukranians:
Imagine hearing and seeing the explosions every day and still managing to have hope, believe in the future, and stay optimistic.
Imagine hearing about people you know who were killed for no reason.
Imagine seeing how your town is bombed.
Imagine your day starts with checking if everyone is alive.
Maia Mikhaluk, whose first grandchild, Briana, was born in the midst of the war in a Kyiv hospital that has not yet been bombed, and who will live the first days, perhaps the first months of her young life in a bomb shelter, writes, “We are affected by war, but we are not defined by it! We are defined by our love for God, for our land, for our family! The war will end soon, this nightmare will pass! Life will overcome death. The light will overcome the darkness!”
We must not look away from Ukraine. Indeed, we cannot without sacrificing our own humanity. I wish I could go to Poland to help.
Steven Givot says, “Volunteers are always welcome at the World Central Kitchen in Przemsyl, Poland, eight miles from the major border crossing from Ukraine.
He warns though, “If you want to come find lodging first. Getting here is no problem. You can fly into Warsaw or Rzeszow.
The address here where we work is:
Bohaterów Getta 63
37-700 Przemysl
Poland
People show up around 8 am. Dress warm. It is cold inside much of the day.”
You can give to World Central Kitchen here.
*****************************************
StoryShare, March 5, 2023 issue.
Copyright 2023 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 5450 N. Dixie Highway, Lima, Ohio 45807.
