I first met Sasha this past summer at a charity polo match in Newport, where I was a guest of the Newport and Jamestown Ukraine Relief Projects.
They were representing Ukraine, and I was still trying to wrap my head around polo. I struck up a conversation with a Ukrainian woman who mentioned her 12-year-old son, saying his English was far better than hers and that I should meet him.
Later in the afternoon, I spotted Sasha with friends. They seemed so familiar with each other that I assumed he couldn't be the Ukrainian refugee I'd imagined. Little did I know how deeply rooted this young family was in Newport. I was blown away when Sasha started speaking—his English was flawless, without a trace of an accent. We soon launched into one of the most insightful conversations I’ve had about Ukraine including a detailed tutorial on the various missiles and drones Russia was using against his country.

Sasha was born in Sevastopol, Crimea. His whole family left Crimea in 2014. It turns out Sasha had spent his kindergarten year in Newport back in 2017, while his father attended the Naval War College at the invitation of the U.S. government. After the full-scale invasion in March 2022, mom and the kids left Ukraine for the USA. His dad’s friend Erik Brine took them in and they were in Jamestown, RI for 18 months. His dad stayed in Ukraine and has served in some of the toughest theaters of the war.

Sasha seems as American as any other seventh grader, excelling in school, playing the flute, and practicing Taekwondo three times a week. His older sister, Yana, is a medical student in Kyiv.  

This summer, however, Sasha wasn’t in Newport for school but to recover from a concussion caused by two Iskander ballistic missiles that hit near his home in Odesa. He still has trouble hearing in one ear. Odesa is too close to Crimea for much warning before missile strikes—unlike Kyiv, where sirens often result in false alarms, in Odesa, an explosion usually follows within minutes.

Fast forward to last week: I had told Sasha’s mother, Viktoriia, about my upcoming trip to Odesa for my next documentary, Beyond Bucha, and asked if Sasha could be my translator and guide. After exchanging a few emails, I made it to their beloved city. Unfortunately, just as I arrived, Russia had intensified its assault on Odesa, targeting grain shipments from the port.
Of all the Ukrainian cities I’ve visited, Odesa felt the hottest, and not because of the weather. On my first night, I heard an explosion just minutes after an air raid siren. The following night, another attack resulted in fatalities. It reminded me of the aftermath of mass shootings in U.S. cities—tragic, persistent, yet life goes on. The people here have become as accustomed to war as one can be. They refuse to be cowed by missiles and drones. It feels more like terrorism, given how many strikes hit civilian targets like the Transfiguration Cathedral.

Despite everything, Odesans love their city and won’t let the bombings disrupt their lives. This resilience is something I’ve seen all across Ukraine—people deeply love their hometowns, and for good reason.

On my first day in Odesa, Viktoriia welcomed me with five bottles of Ukrainian red wine, a bottle of cognac, cookies, candy, apples, and grapes. After nearly a week, I’m still working my way through it all! The generosity and hospitality have been overwhelming.

As a natural result I suppose the people here are also as used to the realities of this war as anyone. “Used to it” isn’t exactly the right term but life goes on. And they won’t be cowed by a terrorist with missiles and drones. And it really is more akin to terrorism in that so many of these projectiles miss and hit civilian targets like the Transfiguration Cathedral last year. It’s not like Odesa is in artillery range so you really have to go looking to find something blown up. This beautiful city–like Kyiv, Bucha, Kharkiv, Dnipro, and Zaporizhzhia before them on my itinerary-- is intact. And for the most part the “booms” are distant, as the apps on Sasha phone made clear. So, the bombings are more akin to terrorism not a great military, who are intent on making life as miserable as possible.

Sasha and his family showed me the beauty of Odesa, including a visit to the famous Transfiguration Cathedral, which was struck by a Russian missile in 2023. You’ll catch glimpses of it in the attached video, with more to come in my film. Life continues here, even as sirens wail in the background. I also visited Sasha’s school, where we were treated to lunch by the headmistress. But the highlight for me was attending a ballet performance at the Odesa Opera House, one of Europe’s great treasures, where we watched a stunning Ukrainian ballet set to Chopin.

​Of all the moments in Odesa, the one that stands out most was a walk along the Black Sea with Sasha’s family and their dog. I even took off my shoes to step into the water on the stony beach. As the day ended, Sasha had to head home to study, and I paid him a small sum for his incredible work as a guide, translator, and cameraman—he shot almost all the footage for this segment. Despite his mother’s objections, I insisted he accept the money, and he ended up buying four physics books with it!
I’m excited to return to Odesa after Beyond Bucha is completed to share the film with them. I owe Sasha and his family a great deal for their help with the Odesa segment, and I hope they’ll love the final result. I’m certainly looking forward to going back.

Pastor Sergey Gashchenko, Bishop of the Union of Churches - Zaporizhzhia, Ukraine - October 6th, 2024

In early 2023, I filmed a segment for Back to Bucha featuring Pastor Oleg Regetsiy of the Church of the Glory of the Lord in Lviv.
At that time, he was conducting an online service with his displaced congregation, many of whom had fled Kharkiv after Russian forces were repelled in the early days of the war. While Oleg and his family have since returned to Kharkiv, most of his congregation has not.

In the video below, we see a Wednesday evening Bible study around a dinner table, attended by Oleg’s family and a few parishioners. At this particular service they were trying to translate everything into English for my benefit though generally would speak Russian given we were in the Kharkiv region which is largely Russian speaking. They read and discuss scripture, followed by prayers from everyone present. It was an intimate gathering, largely made up of women. Oleg’s wife, Iryna, plays a prominent role in the ministry, a female co-pastor, making their work a true partnership. This setting reminded me of the early days of the Christian church, when services were held in homes, often led by women, bringing to mind Matthew 18:20: "For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them."

Kharkiv was relatively calm when I visited a few weeks ago, but it remains a prime objective for Russian forces. Earlier this year, they launched a renewed offensive, but were repelled, in part due to U.S.-supplied HIMARS, which President Biden allowed to strike into Russia. Kharkiv is only about 25 miles from the Russian border, making it a critical flashpoint in the conflict.

Bible study around a dinner table, attended by Pastor Oleg Regetsiy, his family and parishioners, Kharkiv, Ukraine - September 25th, 2024

​After Kharkiv, I traveled south to Zaporizhzhia via Dnipro to meet with Bishop Sergey Gashchenko, leader of the Union of Churches to which Oleg’s ministry belongs. I also attended a service at the Source of Life Church where Bishop Gashchenko preached last Sunday, a glimpse of which you can see in the video below.

This denomination, as explained to me, is Pentecostal with a Charismatic element. The Charismatic aspect apparently allows for women pastors, and I met a young female pastor who gave one of the clearest explanations of the Orthodox church schism and why it is supported by many Ukrainians. We’ll feature her in an upcoming segment.

In my conversations with clergy here, whenever I ask about Christian persecution in Ukraine, they seem perplexed by the question. Bishop Gashchenko even suggested that he enjoys greater religious freedom than many Americans, noting that while U.S. churches were forced to close during COVID, services in Ukraine continued, with most Ukrainians still remaining unvaccinated due to limited vaccine availability.

​Ultimately, these two Protestant churches exemplify the thriving religious freedom on this side of the frontlines. The Russian disinformation claiming persecution of Christians in Ukraine is utterly unfounded. The arrest of Russian Orthodox priests acting as spies isn’t about religious persecution—it’s about their illegal activities and espionage, as they continue to support Russia and spread propaganda from the pulpit.

This church would make most American Evangelicals feel at home.
This Ukrainian mega-church in Irpin has everything— a theater-style chapel, professional cameras, lights, a worship band, plenty of children, gourmet coffee, and a well-known pastor. Most importantly, it boasts a thriving congregation.

This Baptist church in Irpin has everything— a theater-style chapel, professional cameras, lights, a worship band, plenty of children, gourmet coffee, and a well-known pastor. Most importantly, it boasts a thriving congregation.

​However, the church’s story took a dramatic turn in February 2022, when Russia invaded from the north. Russian forces shelled the area from occupied Bucha as they attempted to advance on Kyiv. They came close but were ultimately halted in Irpin and forced to retreat.

Senior Pastor Mykola Romaniuk at Irpin Bible Church 

The attached short video captures a typical Sunday service, as well as a brief excerpt from an interview with Sr. Pastor Mykola Romaniuk. Born into a multi-generational Baptist family—common in Ukraine—Pastor Romaniuk shares how faith, hope, service, and fellowship help sustain the faithful through wartime. He discusses how the trials, such as PTSD, can actually strengthen both the church and its members. This insightful interview will be featured in greater detail in the upcoming documentary Beyond Bucha, which I am currently filming here in Ukraine.

​One vital point that I discussed with the pastor is that discrimination against Christians in Ukraine is virtually nonexistent. The only exception is the arrest of Russian "spy-priests" from the Russian Orthodox Church, accused of providing intelligence to Moscow, reminiscent of Soviet-era tactics. As I continue my tour of Ukraine's Evangelical churches, it’s clear that persecution of Christians, or any other religious group, is simply not an issue here. The only individuals targeted are Moscow Orthodox “spy-priests” leading services in some of Ukraine's grandest Orthodox churches and cathedrals.

Bucha is my favorite spot in Ukraine.
By Steve Richards

I just finished lunch at the bustling Viktoria Park Hotel here in Bucha, and as I sat there, it struck me: what if I had been here during the occupation? An American documentarian in occupied Ukraine? My days would have been numbered. I’d either be the latest Russian prisoner on trumped-up espionage charges, or even shot dead on the streets, like so many Bucha residents. Artillery shells filled the skies, Javelins destroyed Russian tanks, and people sheltered in their basements. No one roamed the streets, not even the Russian soldiers, who feared being picked off by Bucha’s defiant citizens.

Now, more than two and a half years later, it couldn't be nicer. The weather is a comfortable 60 degrees, partly cloudy—just like Boston. The town, home to just over 31,000 people before the war is perhaps even larger now given the traffic. It’s filled with forests, nice homes, and apartments. Bucha has reclaimed its identity as a trendy Kyiv suburb, complete with a commuter rail station. Kyiv is just 14 miles away, about a 45-minute drive. The noisiest things around this weekend here were the two wedding receptions at the hotel over the weekend. The DJ’s played western hits.

It all feels so normal now. The McDonald's reopened quickly, though I don’t remember seeing a Domino's before. New shops are flourishing, windows throughout the town replaced as if nothing ever happened. The blown-out houses on Vokzalna Street, where the Russian advance was halted, have been completely rebuilt, thanks to international contributors like Miami based Global Empowerment Mission and Howard Buffett, Warren Buffett’s son.

After five days in Kharkiv last week I’ve been here all weekend, capturing footage of a local Evangelical church in Irpin, the next town over. Tomorrow, I’m interviewing its pastor before heading to Dnipro.

To be honest, it feels like a bit of a holiday. No air raid sirens here. They’re rare in Bucha now, unlike in Kyiv, and even more so in Kharkiv. There are no major targets for the Russians here, though I imagine they have plans to strike the power infrastructure as the winter deepens.
​
Part of the reason I returned this past weekend was an invitation from old friends from April 2022 to a borscht dinner. They’ve been so kind, though I’m still not used to the endless vodka shots before, during, and after meals. Lesson learned: wine and vodka don’t mix well over dinner.

Julia in front of Jul's Coffee and Ice Cream

Jul’s Coffee and Cocktails
Bucha’s entrepreneurial spirit impresses me, grounded in a faith—faith not just in God, though that’s part of it, but faith in Ukraine’s ultimate victory. You don’t invest like this if you think the Russians are coming back. It’s possible, of course, but few here seem to think it likely.

Take Julia, the owner of Jul’s Coffee and Peace. Anyone who’s seen Back to Bucha – Finding the Spirit in Ukraine knows Julia and her story of returning to Bucha in the summer of 2022 to rebuild. When I visited in January 2023, her coffee shop had been fully restored after being destroyed. And by the holiday season in January 2024, I was back again and screening Back to Bucha at her new restaurant, Burger Bunker.

Now, I’ve returned just in time for the opening of her latest venture: Jul’s Coffee and Cocktails, a beautiful little cocktail house that also serves duck breast, risotto and mushrooms, and tiramisu. She’s also opened Jul’s Coffee and Ice Cream in a nearby park, housed in a little artisan metal building that looks like Tinkerbell’s house—a little slice of Disney World right here in Bucha. Other creations are on the horizon, and all are in Bucha. Her way of giving back a bit of joy to her Bucha as she calls it. Profit is not high on the list of objectives. Jobs and economic activity a tremendous result. It’s all truly remarkable from a woman who had no experience in any of these trades. She has received no insurance nor government money. Just a bit of cooperation from the mayor’s office. The biggest problem? As the mother of five she is just dead tired.

In the short video attached, you can see the petite diamond cross around her neck, a symbol of her Christian faith. This lady has faith. In God, herself, her family, Bucha and Ukraine.

​Call it faith-based Capitalism. It is common throughout Ukraine. And for those that say Ukraine is destroyed, and the war unwinnable, I say come to Bucha.

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.

Back in the fall of 2022, I conducted a quick analysis to reassure my mom that traveling to Ukraine wasn't as dangerous as it seemed. I suspected that, given the lower rate of gun violence in Ukraine compared to the USA and the relatively few casualties from missile or drone strikes, the risks might be closer than they appeared. It turns out, the statistics were even more comparable than I anticipated. In fact, it might even be safer in Ukraine given all the shootings here.

Here’s the reality:

• In the USA, there were 39,244 gun-related murders in 2022 and 2023 combined, according to the Gun Violence Archive. With a population of approximately 333 million, this results in a rate of 0.012%.
• In Ukraine, from February 2022 to September 2023, about 3,263 civilians were killed in cities like Kyiv, Kharkiv, Lviv, and Odesa—areas off the front lines. With a current population of around 38 million, this translates to a rate of 0.09% (source: OHCHR).

Of course, these figures exclude casualties from frontline zones, where the rates are significantly higher. For instance, during the Bucha Massacre, there were 419 deaths out of a population of 36,971, which represents 1.1%. But as compared to Bucha’s current suburban state, the chances are likely higher of a violent death in many of the cities and suburbs we live in here in America.

While comparing these risks might be like comparing a bloody apple to a bloody orange, the danger remains real in both contexts. Parents in both countries live with the fear that they might never see their children again when they leave the house. Both have their own Code Reds. The main difference is that one mother fears a mass shooting, while the other worries about missile and drone strikes.

One silver lining in both situations is that the probability of being a victim of such violence is low if you avoid the most dangerous areas.

​So, in answer to those that wonder if I’m worried or scared to go back to Ukraine the answer is: "Not much".

​When I first traveled to Ukraine in March 2022, my mission wasn't rooted in religion, at least not initially. My primary concern was to draw attention to the fire at the Zaporizhzhia nuclear power plant and the environmental catastrophe it posed. It wasn’t until I was preparing for the trip that I first heard about the Ukrainian Catholic Church. It happened during a conversation with Gene Yee, the REI salesman helping me choose a backpack. Before I knew it, I found myself praying with Fr. Yaroslav Nalysnyk at Christ the King UCC in Jamaica Plain, as he called down a guardian angel to protect me on my journey.

This 6-minute video features Christians in Lviv, Kyiv, Bucha, and Vinnytsia.

​That's how the people I interviewed for my two, soon-to-be three, films about Ukraine ended up in the project—through the Spirit’s guiding force. None of them are famous or powerful, but they all speak with a powerful voice, and the Spirit of Ukraine shines through them.

I hope their testimonies will help dispel the widespread disinformation about a supposed lack of religious freedom in Ukraine, something I’ve never witnessed. Of course, the schism within the Orthodox Church in Ukraine has a political dimension, which is a different matter altogether. Arresting spy priests is something America also dealt with during its revolution when handling Church of England clergy. In times of war, if you’re praying for the enemy or actively aiding them in non-clerical ways, ostracization and legal consequences are to be expected.

For American Christians, particularly Evangelicals, the focus seems to be on how Protestants are being treated in Ukraine. Addressing that concern is a key goal of the next film “Beyond Bucha”.

​Here's a brief description of the clips in order:

​Ukrainian Catholic Cathedral in Kyiv
The segment opens with a shot of the cathedral, accompanied by commentary from Fr. Roman Nebozhuk. We then see children taking communion. The church provided not just meals and shelter but also spiritual sustenance during the initial attacks on Kyiv through to today. He also briefly discusses the Ukrainian Council of Churches and Religious Organizations (UCCRO).

​German Evangelical Lutheran Church in Kyiv
A quick exterior shot of the church is followed by a scene of a woman presiding over a service.

​Church of God’s Glory outside Lviv
We meet Pastor Regetsiy Oleh, who leads an Evangelical church in Kharkiv. Forced to flee to Lviv with his wife and son, he leads an online service for his dispersed congregation.

​Lviv Church of the Holy Trinity
This segment takes us to the Evangelical Presbyterian Church of Ukraine/Reformed Church in Ukraine, where we meet Doug Shepherd, the long-time pastor originally from Texas. He leads a Bible study session with a packed group of young people and gives us a tour of the church. The segment begins with a service that will feel familiar to many viewers.

​Nursery School Mom and Teacher in Kyiv
In these interviews with a nursery school mom and teacher in Kyiv they discuss their faith and Christian upbringing.

​Jul’s Coffee Shop in Bucha
Here we meet Julia, one of the film’s stars, who shares her faith journey. She was raised in the Orthodox Church.

​St. Andrew’s Orthodox Church in Bucha
At this iconic church, the site of a mass grave in Bucha, we witness Father Andrey leading an outdoor Good Friday service in 2022. The following year, we join him for an underground service and interview at the church.

​Holy Transfiguration Cathedral in Vinnytsia
We visit the first church in Ukraine to formally break away from the Moscow Patriarchate to become part of the Orthodox Church of Ukraine.

​A Small Village Orthodox Church Outside Vinnytsia
The video concludes with a scene of a village priest showing us his Bible as he carefully puts away his vestments.

​This 6-minute video showcases some of the most poignant expressions of faith from the "Back to Bucha" film, shot in 2023 in Lviv, Kyiv, and Bucha, along with some footage from Vinnytsia captured earlier this year (2024). The film’s editor and associate producer, Amit Nepali, carefully assembled these clips from many hours of footage. He’s also a rare Nepali Christian, having been born and raised in a Christian family by converted Nepali Hindus. His father is an Anglican priest in Nepal. Amit’s selections for these clips reflect his deep connection to the footage and the unique Christian perspective he brings to the project.

And, oh yeah, he also wrote the music.