Today I read Леся Оробець's status from Facebook, in which she makes a brief but eloquent appeal to Ukraine to rise up once again, this time against a foreign dictator. She honestly laments the fact that Ukraine has not had time to mourn the dead or care enough for the wounded, widows, orphans or parents and family mourning the loss of a child.
What came to me were the words which we prayed at Stations of the Cross all through my childhood and youth. To describe the sorrow of the Blessed Virgin at Her Son's Passion, the little books we used quoted words adapted from the Book of Ruth: "Tears are on her cheeks and there is none to comfort her... All you who pass by the way, look and see, is there any sorrow like unto my sorrow? ...Call me not Noemi, that is beautiful; call me Mara, that is bitter."
Job, in his affliction, lamented that God did not even give him time to swallow his spit. Yes, we are so hard pressed and stand simply before the silence of God. No one here had any illusion about the rough road ahead and the very real prospects of failure at forging a new Ukrainian nation. On top of such challenges is now heaped an unjustified, but coldly calculated foreign invasion and perhaps war.
Israel in flight, with its back to the Red Sea and Pharaoh's horses and chariots bearing down, cried out to God and He saved them, pointing out a path through the waters.
We pray for peace, of course! We pray for deliverance, yes! We pray that the Lord of Hosts would fight for us against the foe! The verse from Sunday's responsorial psalm I have placed as my title in Latin: "Rest in God alone, my soul." The seeming prefered popular icon for the "Heavenly Legion", the fallen heroes of Maidan, shows them standing amidst the flames. I guess they and we must stand a little longer before we can find rest from our labors. May the sorrowful Mother of God spread her protective mantle over her beloved people!
In Deo tantum quiesce, anima mea.