Last Sunday, I attended the 10:00 a.m. service at Bethany Baptist Church in Bucha, a gathering that felt like it could have taken place anywhere across the U.S. I’ve captured the experience in the short video below. What makes this moment especially profound is that services like this can only happen in unoccupied Ukraine. In areas under Russian control, such as Crimea and the Donbas, gatherings like these are prohibited. Bucha itself was under Russian occupation for a month following the full-scale invasion in February 2022. Though the Russians retreated in March, they left behind a trail of well-documented atrocities and war crimes.

The next day, I had the privilege of interviewing Pastor Oleksandr (Sasha) Kulbych, the senior pastor of Bethany Baptist. One of the first things you'll notice about him is his excellent English, owing to his family’s strong ties to the U.S. and the U.K. However, it may be a while before he can visit either country, as men aged 18 to 60 are not allowed to leave Ukraine due to martial law. Pastor Kulbych is a fourth-generation Baptist pastor, with roots dating back to the Soviet era, when his great-great-grandfather was imprisoned for many years for preaching the gospel. He draws inspiration from the ministries of Billy and Franklin Graham. In fact, his was the first church of any kind in Bucha, planted in 1991 as a mission of the Baptist Church Union in Kyiv, and he has been with the church since its founding.

I felt a bit awkward asking the question I plan to pose to all the clergy I meet on this trip—whether they or their church had experienced any persecution. Kulbych seemed surprised and simply answered, "no." He explained that Ukraine is considered the freest of all former Soviet states and satellite countries when it comes to religious freedom.

We also briefly discussed the schism within Ukraine’s Orthodox Church and the government’s efforts to address "spy priests." Kulbych didn’t have much to say on the topic, suggesting it was an issue best left to Orthodox clergy.

What weighs much more heavily on his mind is how the war has affected his congregation. Several of his parishioners were killed by Russian soldiers during the initial occupation, and many others are currently serving in the military, which has put much of the church’s activities on hold. PTSD is common among his congregation, as many witnessed firsthand the brutalities of Russia’s occupation. As the war continues, religious communities across Ukraine are grappling with how they will support returning soldiers, particularly since the government is seen as offering little more than lip service to addressing this looming crisis.

​But on this Sunday, it simply felt like church. Children filled the nursery, the band on stage played worship songs, and though I couldn’t understand a word of the sermon, it was clear. The presence of the Spirit was unmistakable, and despite everything this church has endured, its strength and resilience will carry it forward for generations, God willing.

By Steve Richards

How many times have I stayed in Kyiv over the past few years? At least five or six—probably close to a month in total since April 2022.

Tonight, I couldn’t sleep. Maybe it’s the jet lag, since I arrived just before lunch after a three-day trek. I took the Kyiv Express from Warsaw, which left at 6 PM on Wednesday. The ride lived up to its name, though I’m pretty sure the sleeping car attendant was eager to get home early. The compartment was beautiful—I even got a private one. Paneled walls, a private sink (don’t drink the water)—I was living in style! One tip for next time: make sure I have everything I need for the 18-hour journey, if I plan on ordering tea or coffee that is. The attendant only accepted Ukrainian hryvnia—no Polish zloty, despite the train originating in Poland. Dollars weren’t welcome either, although I did manage to convince him that a $20 was worth a cup of tea.
 
Honestly, though, I think the reason I couldn’t sleep was the quiet. After flipping through the limited English channels (CNN and BBC, for me at least), I turned off the TV and noticed just how eerily silent it was outside my 10th-floor room, overlooking Maidan Square. I had the windows open—it was a beautiful evening, with weather that reminded me of Boston in the fall, around the 50s. Every other time I’ve been here, it’s been winter or early spring—basically, freezing cold, like Boston.

But tonight, with the windows open, the silence was almost unsettling. In all my travels, I’ve never experienced anything like it. Even in the quietest places, there’s usually a distant car, a siren, or some background noise. But here, in this big European city, there was nothing. Not a sound.

It’s in moments like these when the Spirit seems to nudge me, filling my mind with thoughts and ideas, keeping me awake. So, I got up and decided to capture some footage outside the window, a little after midnight. Then I figured I’d explore the hotel, see if anyone was awake. I threw on some clothes and headed down the elevator.

Nope. Just me and the guard in camo. The front desk was closed, the bar was closed—nothing but silence, aside from the guard, who, like the train attendant, seemed ready to call it a night.

I’ve always had a soft spot for the Ukraine Hotel. It’s a relic of the Soviet era, and I can easily imagine party officials having a grand time here back when it was called the Moscow Hotel. These days, its basements serve as bomb shelters, a labyrinth of thick walls and submarine-style steel doors. Rumor has it there’s a tunnel leading to the Presidential Palace. I believe it—the hotel feels like the safest place in Kyiv, especially with reports that a Patriot missile battery protects the nearby government buildings.

But the real reason this silence feels so strange? It won’t last. Whether it’s in a day, a week, or an hour, the sirens will wail, and the explosions will follow.

Oddly, there’s something comforting about the curfew that causes this quiet. No ambulances racing to the ER, no late-night shootings. I think about how many people are shot, or how many car accidents happen in these hours in places like Miami or Boston. In some ways, it feels safer here. But then again, the threat of a terrorist’s missile brings a different kind of anxiety than a mass shooter or armed robber back home.

​I guess I’ll get used to it—just like everyone else.

As we mark over two and a half years since Russia's full-scale invasion of Ukraine, I’m excited to announce the start of the Beyond Bucha Production Tour!

My mission? Go to church in Ukraine! Attending as many services and visiting as many churches as possible, especially Protestant/Evangelical places of worship, though I’ll also include Ukrainian Catholic and Orthodox congregations. My focus is on documenting Christian communities and their experiences amidst the war. Despite the claims of Tucker Carlson and his ilk, I doubt I’ll find many persecuted Christians here—unless we count Russian priests wearing ankle bracelets for spying, whom I’ll also be keeping an eye out for! I’m planning to visit Jewish services too and search for damaged churches and holy sites, though most of these are on the Russian-occupied side of the front, which I don’t plan to cross.

But first, I need to get there—and, just like my first trip in April 2022, it’s going to take some effort. I’m looking at a combination of planes, trains, and automobiles: starting with an overnight flight from Boston to Warsaw, where I am now, followed by an overnight sleeper train to Kyiv, and finally a car to Bucha. The good news is that this time, I’ll have Ubers at my disposal. On that first trip, I had to hike from Kyiv, all the while aware of the low-level threat of landmines.

It’s a three-day journey, though it could be done in two. But that’s beside the point. The bigger issue is that this extended travel time is still part of Putin’s economic blackmail. Ukraine’s airports remain closed—an ongoing hardship, despite Lviv being less than 50 miles from the Polish border. After two and a half years, Lviv's airport should reopen. Waiting for the fighting in Ukraine to completely cease is likely going to be long in coming, but with Patriot missiles and other defenses now in place, reopening the airport seems achievable. The economic and morale boost for Ukraine would be tremendous.

While I enjoy visiting Warsaw, I'd much prefer to fly over it on a direct flight to Lviv. It's frustrating that flights to these cities, once routine—even after the 2014 annexation of Crimea and the downing of Malaysian Airlines Flight MH17—are still unavailable. Even if Russia were reckless enough to target civilian planes again, the repercussions with NATO and Putin's more hesitant allies would be severe. He knows this economic blackmail is a low-cost strategy for him, but we shouldn't allow it to persist.

Reopening flights to Lviv would be a powerful way to boost Ukraine’s economy and morale. It’s time. And I’d gladly sign up for the first direct flight to Lviv—then hop on a train to Kyiv.

By Steve Richards
Next Saturday, the 14th, there will be a screening of Back to Bucha at a location that holds unexpected significance for me—St. Paul’s Episcopal Church in Dedham, Massachusetts. This event also marks a send-off for my fourth journey to Ukraine, just two days later, as part of the Beyond Bucha Production Tour. The tour will take me from Warsaw to Kyiv, Bucha, Kharkiv, Dnipro, Kherson, Odesa, and Vinnytsia, with my return scheduled for late October.

​In preparation for the event, Rev. Melanie McCarley, rector of St. Paul's, invited me to deliver a lay sermon to the congregation this morning. Considering the church's strong support for Ukraine, I found it fitting to draw a parallel between the Anglican experience during the American Revolution—when this very church played a significant role—and the role of the Orthodox Church in Ukraine's current fight for independence. My message went something like this:

It’s striking how often women like my cousin, Mary Richards, are overlooked in histories of religious and political conflicts. Back to Bucha, highlights the resilience of women in Ukraine who returned after initially fleeing, determined to raise their children in their own homes in their own country. Their stories of home, faith, and courage in the midst of war echo the stories of our ancestors found in St. Paul’s graveyard from yesteryear. 

As I get ready to return to Ukraine to work on the third film in the series, Beyond Bucha – Finding the Spirit in Ukraine from the Churches to the Front, I frequently get asked two questions: "Why did you start doing this?" and "Aren't you scared?"

My answer is: “not much”. Recent data shows that the danger in Ukraine, away from the front lines, is similar to what we face in the U.S. from gun violence. They fear missiles, we fear guns. The recent missile strike in Lviv, which killed a young family, is a sobering reminder of the violence that exists there, as is similarly exhibited in the recent shooting in Georgia. Fortunately for citizens of both countries is that the chances are low in both.

​I also remind myself daily of the words from Matthew 6:25-34, reminding us not to worry, for each day has enough trouble of its own.

25 “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? 26 Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? 27 Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life[a]?

28 “And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. 29 Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. 30 If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? 31 So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ 32 For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. 33 But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 34 Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

For the other question you’ll need to come for the Q&A after the film.