Reflections from Ukraine
Ive just returned from visiting the church-run childrens home I help to support near Kyiv. After 2 previous visits to Praise and Worship Church, I am no longer the honoured foreign guest to be cossetted and indulged, but a member of the Church family from whom no secrets are to be hidden! At the start of my stay I was told "I am sorry to ask, but do you have some money for food and petrol, otherwise we have no way to make your planned programme happen". Of course, that made it easier for me to pay for my keep without causing offense, where hospitality is almost a sacred duty.
On previous visits, I had wondered why I was never invited to the pastors home. This time, I discovered why, as Yuri clearly felt secure enough in our friendship to share some of the realities of life with me. One morning, after visiting the childrens home, we pulled up outside a large, brightly painted detatched house in a neighbouring street.
"My mothers house,"Yuri announced. "In former times I rented an apartment for my family, but since my father died, we live here with my mother."
A touching picture of the extended family principle still central to life in a country with minimal state pensions. And plenty of space to bring up his six children, I thought; far better than a cramped flat. I was invited into a fairly typical conservatory-cum-living room - drab, sparsely furnished, and smelling of damp - and Yuri tapped on a neighbouring door, where a teenage girl appeared, whom he introduced as his daughter.
"Please, this is my room," Yuri beckoned me through.
I peered into a dull room, crammed full with beds and wardrobes.
"This is how I live now. I also have one more room upstairs. My brother and his wife live in the other side of the house with their five children. Also my sister and her daughter. This house is very old and needs much work."
I could see that!
"Since I live here I try little by little, but it is hard."
Not surprising, on his pastors salary of 200 hrn per month (about £30 - roughly the average wage in Ukraine), with a wife and six children to support and a car to run (petrol costs just under 30p per litre, while a bus into town is around 20p). Given the prices in the shops (Western-style supermarkets are now common place and well-stocked), so long as you avoid expensive imported items (like milk or coffee) this is probably equivalent to a family living on basic state benefits in this country - but without child allowance, housing benefit or free medical care. Yet, superficially, to look at Yuri and the majority of people in Church on Sunday, or on the streets each day, you would not guess the struggle they must have to live. The average Ukrainian takes far more pride in their appearance than most folk here in Britain, but in reality has only one or two good sets of clothes, changing into an old track suit as soon as they get home so as to keep their outdoor clothes decent until they can wash them (by hand in the bath) at the weekend. That is probably how the majority in this country lived at the turn of this century, but without the constant battery of tv adverts flaunting the joys of western consumerism in their face, as expensive designer stores spring up all over the centre of the city promising a lifestyle which they can only look in on from outside.. Yet the atmosphere among the ordinary people on the street or in the crowded micro-buses is surprisingly upbeat; most people smile cheerfully and give a genuine impression of enjoying life. Returning to Leeds, I was struck by an aura of despondency which I rarely encounter on the streets of Kyiv, even despite the tremendous social problems which do exist as the nation tries to transform itself into a modern European society.
Given all this, what message should the Church of Christ be bringing to this emerging nation? Is it right that we identify ourselves with the material blessings which capitalism offers - a McDonalds on every street corner, mobile phones on demand? - as many western-sponsored churches unquestioningly do? The world of American-financed missionaries, living in Euro-standard apartments, driving a Mercedes, and building plate-glass cathedrals with state of the art sound systems (the prosperity gospel is alive and well and flourishing in many Kyiv churches!), seems reminiscent of the cargo religions of earlier mission fields. Or is the less appealing message of un-sponsored native pastors like Yuri, urging their congregation by word and example to work hard and honestly and share their goods with those less fortunate than themselves, actually closer to the spirit of Jesus Christ we read of in the Gospels?
Anthony
Ive just returned from visiting the church-run childrens home I help to support near Kyiv. After 2 previous visits to Praise and Worship Church, I am no longer the honoured foreign guest to be cossetted and indulged, but a member of the Church family from whom no secrets are to be hidden! At the start of my stay I was told "I am sorry to ask, but do you have some money for food and petrol, otherwise we have no way to make your planned programme happen". Of course, that made it easier for me to pay for my keep without causing offense, where hospitality is almost a sacred duty.
On previous visits, I had wondered why I was never invited to the pastors home. This time, I discovered why, as Yuri clearly felt secure enough in our friendship to share some of the realities of life with me. One morning, after visiting the childrens home, we pulled up outside a large, brightly painted detatched house in a neighbouring street.
"My mothers house,"Yuri announced. "In former times I rented an apartment for my family, but since my father died, we live here with my mother."
A touching picture of the extended family principle still central to life in a country with minimal state pensions. And plenty of space to bring up his six children, I thought; far better than a cramped flat. I was invited into a fairly typical conservatory-cum-living room - drab, sparsely furnished, and smelling of damp - and Yuri tapped on a neighbouring door, where a teenage girl appeared, whom he introduced as his daughter.
"Please, this is my room," Yuri beckoned me through.
I peered into a dull room, crammed full with beds and wardrobes.
"This is how I live now. I also have one more room upstairs. My brother and his wife live in the other side of the house with their five children. Also my sister and her daughter. This house is very old and needs much work."
I could see that!
"Since I live here I try little by little, but it is hard."
Not surprising, on his pastors salary of 200 hrn per month (about £30 - roughly the average wage in Ukraine), with a wife and six children to support and a car to run (petrol costs just under 30p per litre, while a bus into town is around 20p). Given the prices in the shops (Western-style supermarkets are now common place and well-stocked), so long as you avoid expensive imported items (like milk or coffee) this is probably equivalent to a family living on basic state benefits in this country - but without child allowance, housing benefit or free medical care. Yet, superficially, to look at Yuri and the majority of people in Church on Sunday, or on the streets each day, you would not guess the struggle they must have to live. The average Ukrainian takes far more pride in their appearance than most folk here in Britain, but in reality has only one or two good sets of clothes, changing into an old track suit as soon as they get home so as to keep their outdoor clothes decent until they can wash them (by hand in the bath) at the weekend. That is probably how the majority in this country lived at the turn of this century, but without the constant battery of tv adverts flaunting the joys of western consumerism in their face, as expensive designer stores spring up all over the centre of the city promising a lifestyle which they can only look in on from outside.. Yet the atmosphere among the ordinary people on the street or in the crowded micro-buses is surprisingly upbeat; most people smile cheerfully and give a genuine impression of enjoying life. Returning to Leeds, I was struck by an aura of despondency which I rarely encounter on the streets of Kyiv, even despite the tremendous social problems which do exist as the nation tries to transform itself into a modern European society.
Given all this, what message should the Church of Christ be bringing to this emerging nation? Is it right that we identify ourselves with the material blessings which capitalism offers - a McDonalds on every street corner, mobile phones on demand? - as many western-sponsored churches unquestioningly do? The world of American-financed missionaries, living in Euro-standard apartments, driving a Mercedes, and building plate-glass cathedrals with state of the art sound systems (the prosperity gospel is alive and well and flourishing in many Kyiv churches!), seems reminiscent of the cargo religions of earlier mission fields. Or is the less appealing message of un-sponsored native pastors like Yuri, urging their congregation by word and example to work hard and honestly and share their goods with those less fortunate than themselves, actually closer to the spirit of Jesus Christ we read of in the Gospels?
Anthony
