At a time when we no longer know where to turn with the news coming at us from around the world, current affairs sometimes offer an unexpected space for reflection and spirituality. A moment of grace.
For me, this moment happened while I was listening to Leo XIV’s first homily, delivered on May 9 in the Sistine Chapel. In this programmatic address—both serene, peaceful, and powerful – the new Pope addressed a fundamental question: what does it mean to be a Christian?
He recalled the world when it was a place of “cruel circles of power and a theatre of betrayals” that “eliminates” Jesus because “of his demand for honesty and morality.” That world believed that Jesus, “a righteous, courageous man, who speaks well and says just things,” is nothing more than an eccentric out of touch with reality.
How can one not think of realpolitik and its cynical proponents, always ready to ridicule any stance imbued with values, dismissing it as a gentle utopia?
To be a Christian is to embody values – courage, honesty, justice, and morality. These values do not make us “weak,” but disciples of Christ. Quite simply. But one still has to put them into practice: beliefs must be translated into actions, otherwise they are nothing but a posture, as the Pope reminds us.
I cannot help but think of the “support for Ukraine” from some. What are words of support worth without action? Are those actions sufficient and necessary, because of a lack of courage, opportunism, and corruption.
A story told by Agatha Christie in her Autobiography comes to mind. The celebrated writer recalled the words of her mathematics teacher, which made a strong impression on her: “To be a Christian you must face and accept the life that Christ faced and lived; you must enjoy things as he enjoyed things … But you must also know, as he did, what it means to be alone in the Garden of Gethsemane, to feel that all your friends have forsaken you, that those you love and trust have turned away from you, and that God Himself has forsaken you. Hold on then to the belief that that is not the end. If you love, you will suffer, and if you do not love, you do not know the meaning of a Christian life.” Throughout her life, Agatha Christie reflected deeply on this. So have I — for different reasons.
I have also thought a lot about it when thinking of Ukraine and the Ukrainians. Of their gift for laughter and happiness, their joy of living, their love of flowers. But also of the moments of courage and solitude, of the unresigned suffering they have endured. Of a kind of popular international admiration that fades as soon as action is needed to prevent “those good people” from being killed in their sleep. Of the falseness of some friendships, which Ukrainians are not fooled by. Of moments so dark that one feels abandoned by God Himself, without fleeing, choosing instead to stay, right there, in the middle of the night, ready to live what one must live. To die. Before the eyes of the crowd that celebrated you not long ago. Beside your friends who sold you for the thirty pieces of realpolitik silver.
“Evil will not win,” the Pope promised on the evening of his election to a crowd filled with hope and joy. Time will tell what he meant by that, but for me — for Ukrainians — and this has always been true, one thing is for certain: evil will not win. Because we know, Ukrainians know, that whatever the night may bring, it is not the end.
Marianna Perebenesiuk is a comparative literature specialist with expertise in French literature, the publishing and audiovisual industries. She has authored an essay in thanatology and has worked with production companies and NGOs. She also collaborates with the Ukrainian national weekly magazine Ukraïnskyi Tyzhden and provides insights into the Ukrainian context in French media, especially since the beginning of the war.
