Everything is Illuminated; Well Almost!

"I was of the opinion that the past is past, and like all that is not now.
It should remain buried, along the side of our memories;
But this was before the commencement of our very rigid search."
Alex from the movie Everything is Illuminated

Jesus said to the Jews who had believed in him, "if you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples; and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free."
John 8:31-32

The purpose of this sabbatical journey was multifaceted, because I wanted to explore the roots of my Lutheran Christian faith as well as the roots of my father in Ukraine.
The history of the Church can be learned from books and that is how we should begin. Yet it is harder to imagine and internalize the details of place and person without seeing the present reality with our own eyes. To actually see the places where Martin Luther began a revolution in faith can be nostalgic, but it also impresses one with the fact that our perception of history is not always accurate.
The Church has always been composed of sinners and saints (often found in the same person),and the same truth applies to our families.
One of the most powerful symbols on the journey was the steeple cross that was found in the rubble of the totally destroyed Frauen Kirche in Dresden. The Feb, 1945 firebombing of that Saxon and very Lutheran city killed over 100,000 citizens in the middle of Nazi Germany. Since it was in East Germany, it was not rebuilt until 60 years later. It can be considered a museum, or a church without a congregation, or a testament to the suffering and humility of Christ's body that persists and resurrects the human spirit and our own bodies by faith alone.

The Lutheran Church in Europe and America is in a near death crisis of faith. Yet, we will only begin to deal with the present when we can truly allow Christ's cross to redeem the present by unburying the past to see the truth and give hope for the future. From the grave of the past comes new life symbolized in the chapel underground Frauen Kirche chapel.

We rarely if ever, learn about the reality of our family histories from books, but we can trace the past through the memories of those who continue in the present. While spending almost two weeks with my mother's family in Bayreuth Germany, I was once again reminded of the complexity of human relationships among those who continue to come together because of blood and history. It is both with joy and sadness that we continue our course on earth, linked together by our identity that is a foundation for stability and even growth in love and faith. My dear grandmother's grave (My Oma, Anna Riess) is still a marker of her generous life that suffered the loss of my grandfather, Heinrich on May 7, 1945 but she never gave up hope and faith. Her faith inspired my mother and was somehow shared with me in our struggle to become an American family.

When my father, Mykola Pavlyuk left his hometown in Rovno in Ukraine in 1939 to be drafted into the Russian army, he knew of the suffering of his people under Soviet rule and tried to do something by deserting and joining the Germany Army. I had some suspicions that he may have been anti-Semitic like many Ukrainians, and may have participated in Nazi massacres of 20,000 Jews in Nov. 1941 and July 1942, but after a somewhat rigorous search, I found no evidence for this. His own family thought he was dead for 20 years until 1959 when he first wrote home. From family members (one sister out of 8 siblings has survived), I found that he was beloved, talented, but haunted by melancholy. While I was prepared for the worst, I was surprised by the joy and love of my Ukrainian family, which has fulfilled a deep yearning in my life.

In the end, it is in our church family, founded in the waters of baptism, and through our human families founded in the genetics of blood, that we learn the past, both good and bad, live together in the present and hope for a future redeemed by Christ. Ultimately our identity in both families are bound up with him by his love and forgiveness.

Home at last on 8/10!

Before I try to describe the "eternal city" of Rome, I want to give thanks that by the grace of God we arrived home in the USA in safety. Of all the dates to come home, August 10th will be etched in our minds.
When we left Rome at 10am, (4am EDT) we had heard nothing about the bomb plot, but something strange happened at the ticket counter: we received only 5 boarding passes instead of 6, and were told that we would have to reboard in Washington DC before going to Hartford.

Then in Frankfurt, we went through very tight security and everyone was frisked. But it still wasn't known that there was a code red situation until we arrived at Dulles and were told to claim our luggage, (which was supposed to be transferred without us) and remove all liquids from our carry on luggage. During the chaos at customs hundreds of international passengers were herded together and after an hour we able to try to find our connecting flights. We ran through two terminals and arrived just after the aircraft doors were shut. By the goodness of United Airlines and God we were able to book the last flight to Hartford, which also was delayed and arrived just after midnight, exhausted but glad to be home with all our luggage.

Rome is a fascinating city because of its historical location as the center of the Roman empire and the center of Christianity. However, it is also frustrating due to large crowds and the laid back way that Italians work and play. The subways are inadequate and full of graffiti, but some how we managed to see what was most important and the weather was very good.
The first day, we booked a tour of the Vatican museum, waited in line for an hour and a half, but the galleries were very interesting, especially the Sistine Chapel, but very crowded. We then went of St. Peter's and were overwhelmed by its size and beauty. Pope Benedict XVI was on vacation so I could not wish him "Gruess Gott", and then we had a fine Italian dinner.

The next morning, we took the subway to the Colosseum, the Forum and Palatine Hill. We had anther tour and learned some interesting details. Later, we made a long walk to San Giovanni Church in Laterano where the popes had their residence until going to Avignon, France (14th Century) and St. Peter's was begun, (16th Century). We found it to be more beautiful, mainly because of the statues of the 12 disciples (no Judas but St Paul was added) and very impressive. It was built over the place of the first Christian basilica by Constantine in the 4th Century.

One very intriguing thought was that the building of St. Peter's was a source of the Reformation, because indulgences were sold to pay for it, and the Colosseum was built with plunder from the Jewish temple destroyed in 70AD and by 40,000 Jewish slaves. God's hand in history is ironic since both of these breath taking monuments to the Roman empire and Roman Christianity are related to earth shaking changes in our faith's origins. The Roman empire was overcome not only by barbarians, but by Christ, and the Vatican was reduced in power and privilege due to excesses in corruption and straying from the Gospel. Yet, both buildings continue to inspire and teach us about the history of the Christian faith.

I went on this 40 day journey to find the roots of family, faith and the future that God's grace gives to us. I was illuminated by many things, many of which were not physical but spiritual and relational. Now, after some time to further reflect and rest, (from traveling), I will be ready to continue my ministry in the power of the Holy Spirit.

Maybe, I will continue to add more reflections and pictures to this blog in the next few weeks...

From Germany to Italy through the Alps

I am writing this, while standing in the lobby of the Summit Hotel in Rome. We arrived from Venice on an overnight train after waiting four hours (10pm till 2:30am) in the Balogna train station. We did not sleep and crashed this morning after 13 hours of travel.
We had a great trip through the Alps, stopping for a night in Garmish and Balzanno to escape the crowds of city life. The trip up the Zugspitze, (Germany's tallest mountain) was memorable.


We then went for two nights in Venice, which is incredible.
It truely is a city without any motor vehicles except narrow boats. We did not ride gondolas, (too expensive), but water taxis for hours, which was great for sight seeing.


We are starting to get homesick, and have now been "on the road" for 36 days. I hope my garden and cats are alive and all is well at Trinity Lutheran Church.
You are all in my prayers.

Time to move on....

After three big meals at the home of each cousin, (except one), it was time to choose the way back. Since it was such a long and hot journey by train, my interpreter convinced us to go to Kiev and take a jet back to Frankfurt. In addition, we were told that one cannot visit Ukraine without seeing the capitol of 3 million.

We left in a full minibus for the 4 hour ride, which did not have a real rest stop, (more on that later), and after two failures to find an affordable hotel downtown, we went to the renovated Hotel Tourist and had a nice room next to the subway station. Later, we went on the underground and I mean deep underground to the city for 10 cents and walked to the famous place of the “Orange Revolution”. We found that there were very fashionable stores, underground mall and plenty of campers protesting that the government had reached a political stalemate.

The next morning we took a two hour flight to Frankfurt, and a 3 hour high speed train home for 5 times the cost of the trip to Rivne, but it was worth it. The first thing that one always sees in Bayreuth is the world famous Richard Wagner Festspielhaus, which had begun the opera season.

We rejoined our happy Uncle Alfred, Aunt Martha, cousin Günter, wife Irene and children Manuel, and Simone for more family get visits with other relatives. The beer is outstanding and the friendships will endure in spite of the lack of my parents. We are grateful for their outstanding hospitality.

We are getting a bit homesick, and tomorrow morning we will travel by train to Munich for the last leg of our trek to Rome…

SUNDAY, Sunday

Today, I attended my mother’s church in Bayreuth for the third time and once again was refused Holy Communion since it was a non communion Sunday. It was a very nice service with a special ensemble from Lemberg, (Liviv Ukraine) where I was last Sunday. The church was two thirds full and it was great to listen to Mozart, but the preaching was hard to understand and a bit boring.

Last Sunday, I attended my father’s Orthodox church in Ukraine, but we missed the regular morning service and arrived during a wedding which followed. I doubt if I would have been offered communion there either but for different reasons. The little church was celebrating its 250^th anniversary this year and I was impressed by the icon of Jesus holding his hand out to a sinking Peter in the sea. We all need that hand when the evil and selfishness of the world threatens to destroy us with doubt and unbelief.

We then walked to the grave of my Grandfather Roman, (and other relatives) and passed by a Soviet apartment complex built on land confiscated from him by the Russians, which is why my father hated Stalin and wanted to come to America. Then, we went to my older cousin Natalya’s home for a garden party. The sumptuous dinner of pork, chicken, and small beef steaks on the grill along with lots of homemade wine and vodka.

The next day we toured the city center and went to the local historical museum, where I asked about the slaughter of 25,000 Jews in and around the city in Nov. 1941 and July 1942. They showed me a picture of the monument built to honor them near the city, and said that they had been able to find the names of 1000 so far. I asked if they knew which Ukrainians assisted the Germans in doing this, and they said they were mostly from other neighboring regions and that it was highly unlikely the my father had any role and was already gone.

God is full of forgiveness and hope in Christ. Gott sei Dank!

Home at Last!

Upon our arrival in Rivne, I wasn’t sure what to do next, so I motioned to a taxi to take us to the Hotel Tourist, since according to the travel guide, it had a better range of rooms than the alternative, which was the Hotel Mir. In the lobby I tried to speak broken Ukrainian to the receptionist but she spoke no English. However, a young man nearby noticed us and he spoke some English and so I paid for a standard double room for 3 nights. It was only $25/night, and it seemed like a good deal.

In our room, which overlooked a busy bus station, we found a nice double bed, no fan, and 2 tiny hand towels in the bathroom next to the shower. It was old, Soviet era furnishings, but we were content. I then called the phone number that my Baptist Pastor acquaintance had give as my Aunt’s home and when it was answered in Ukrainian, I gave my name and I could tell that whoever answered was very excited. I tried to say that we were in town at the Hotel Tourist and would come over in the morning since it was now about 7PM. I could hardly understand a word that she said. I then went downstairs and wandered around and found a very good restaurant next door which had an English menu. While going through the lobby, the receptionist called me and had the young man tell me that a cousin of mine had called the hotel and said they would meet me at the hotel after 12 noon. I then called the Pastor, and while he didn’t speak much English, I was able to request his presence and a translator to come over on Saturday at noon.

The next morning, I anxiously awaited their arrival, after buying a bunch of roses on the street. I bought a bouquet of 5 and then realized that according to custom the wrong number meant bad luck and so I went back to the street vender and wanted one more, she tried to sell me two, but I took only one. Later, I discovered that even numbers of flowers are the wrong number. I went back to the room to wait and suddenly just before 11 AM there was a knock on the door, and in came three happy middle aged women and a man, and gave us big hugs. The three women were my first cousins and with sign language told us to come to my Aunt’s house, where my father had lived, for dinner.

We six squeezed into a compact car and made the five minute ride to a broken down farm house on a dirt path next to some more modern homes. Then I met my father’s sister Galina, (my Titka), who couldn’t say much since she could not hear, but my other cousin and her husband and a daughter was there and we sat down for a huge meal of cutlets, potatoes, tomatoes, cucumbers, cheese, breads with various toppings like smoked fish, and lots of wine, and cognac with many toasts (Budmo!) and some tears after the translator arrived and we began to communicate.

I asked after a while, when was the last time that my aunt saw my father, and was relieved to hear that he had been forced into the Soviet army in 1939 and they thought he was dead until 1959 when he wrote them a letter from America. They said he was born in that house, but it didn’t make much sense since they also said my grandfather Roman had built the house in 1928, nine years after my Dad’s birth. However the house seemed much older.

Going "home"

It was a grueling 25 hour train ride from Prague to the first major city in western Ukraine, Liviv. Later I tell you how we went back to Germany.
First of all, we assumed that food and water would be available on an overnight train so we brought a small sandwich and two small bottles of water and orange juice. Boy, were we wrong!
Since our car was disconnected from other cars that may have had refreshments, and we were not allowed enough time to get off whenever we stopped in a train station, we began to wonder if we would make it. The old Russian made train car had some air conditioning that worked only when we went over 30 mph and the lights were off in the daytime to conserve energy.
There were two other Americans in our section and one young man (about 30) shared our bunk area (top bunk of three), we had a chance to speak some english. However, they left us at 5:30 AM in Cracow, and we had to fend for ourselves. We did get a fresh cup of tea at 8:00 AM, but that was all. Then we spent 8 hours on a siding in the hot sun with no ventilation while other cars were added for the trek to Ukraine. I was able to find a German speaking conducter from another car who sold me more water, Coca Cola, and two bags of pretzels. We were saved.

Then we left for the border and two hours later stopped to have our train car lifted up with Karen it and the under carriage changed to fit the eastern European train tracks and after a few more hours we were off to Liviv. We called ahead on our cell phone to tell our landlady that would not arrive until midnight and would she meet us at the train station and take us to our reserved apartment, which was quite beautiful.

The next morning we awoke to see the "new Prague" of the east but we only had 4 hours to find breakfast and get to the train station for the 4 hour ride to my father's hometown. Everthing it seemed was under construction, including the street below our balcony, (3rd story with satellite dish with over 2 hundred stations.

Finally we boarded the train and after traveling across beautiful farm land with horse drawn carts, we arrived at the train station in Rivne (Rovno in Russian)!