Blood cries out through the language of neutralization…
Photo: Grave of the brother of Taras Dyatlik in Rivne
"They all crave dishonest gain, both small and great, and both prophets and priests deal with lies, only healing the wounds of my people superficially by saying, ‘Peace! Peace!’ when there is no peace." (Jeremiah 6:13-14)
Yesterday, still in the night, I read by you:
#BeingHuman. Blood cries out through the language of neutralization… Who can hear the cry of families who lost their loved ones, those missing in action, those in Russian captivity? The cry of families divided by war: those who had to flee and those who stayed behind? Who can feel that pain of the millions?
Between work and volunteer trips, I occasionally visit the grave of my brother Andriy, who was killed by Russians. His blood, like the blood of hundreds of thousands of our defenders and civilians, cries out from the earth, just as Abel’s blood once cried. It cries not about a “complex situation,” not about “tragic circumstances,” not about a “military conflict” – it cries out for truth. And when I hear another international Christian organization speak about the “crisis in Ukraine,” about “people’s suffering,” as if this suffering came from nowhere like a natural disaster, I feel how Andriy’s blood screams about God’s truth louder than all theological diplomatic euphemisms.
For those who haven’t lived these three years in Ukraine, who haven’t buried their loved ones, haven’t held the hands of the wounded, haven’t evacuated and welcomed elderly people from occupied territories whose entire lives fit into one bag, it’s almost impossible to truly understand the practical depth – “on the ground” – of this truth…
Not because there’s a lack of empathy or compassion – these are often more than sufficient. But understanding truth comes only through experience – the daily experience of watching how Christian leaders’ euphemisms shatter against the reality of missile strikes, how “calls for peace” choke in the blood of the innocent, how “prayers for all sides of the conflict” echo emptily over mass graves. This understanding cannot be conveyed through international conferences or seminars – it comes only through the daily experience of encountering truth, whose blood cries out from Ukrainian soil.
Why is the language of truth so important? Why isn’t it enough to simply acknowledge suffering, provide humanitarian aid, and pray for peace? Because theological language shapes the reality of the Church’s ministry. When we say “situation in Ukraine” instead of “Russian aggression,” when we say “conflict” instead of “invasion,” when we use “challenges” instead of “war crimes” – we’re not just choosing words. We’re creating a theological reality where evil becomes anonymous, where responsibility dissolves, where truth dies in diplomatic formulations for the comfort of the aggressor and the “third partner party.”
There exists a boundary where theological academic balance transforms into moral cowardice, where diplomatic language of imagined “missiological and ecclesiological” unity becomes complicity in crime, where the desire to “maintain dialogue” means betraying truth. This boundary lies where the blood of the innocent cries to heaven, while “some” try to muffle this cry with euphemisms of “balanced perspectives.”
In the context of Christ’s theology of the cross, which is increasingly rejected by modern positivist and imperial evangelicalism in favor of a “positive and political” message, the question of language takes on soteriological significance. When we refuse to call evil by its name, when we hide truth behind euphemisms, we’re not just avoiding conflict – we’re distorting and destroying the very understanding of salvation, which comes precisely through acknowledging truth, through calling sin by its name, through specific repentance for specific crimes.
From Andriy’s grave… from the ruins of Mariupol… from the basements of Bakhmut… rises not just a cry of pain – there rises a theological question about the nature of Christian witness in a world where evil tries to hide behind the language of neutralization, where killers hide behind peace rhetoric, where the devil himself, as always, disguises himself as an angel of light through the diplomatic formulations of Christian organizations…
When Cain killed Abel, God’s language was absolutely clear: Cain (subject) killed Abel (object). This grammatical precision reflects the very nature of divine justice – there is one who commits evil, and there is one who suffers from evil. There is no “neutral territory” between murderer and murdered. God’s language has always been the language of specific responsibility.
Unfortunately, today we observe how the largest Christian organizations consciously choose the language of neutralization. Here are the words of the Billy Graham Association’s president: “The people of Ukraine are suffering” – as if this suffering arose by itself. “Our team has been there since the start of the war, caring for families impacted by the conflict” – the word “conflict” conceals a full-scale invasion, genocide, war crimes.
“With millions living a nightmare – separated from loved ones, unsure what the next day holds” – but who created this nightmare? Who separated these families? Why do they fear tomorrow? The language of neutralization transforms specific crimes by specific people into some abstract, subjectless disaster.
This language of neutralization carries a theological price. When we hear “situation in Ukraine” instead of “Russian aggression,” “conflict” instead of “invasion,” “challenges” instead of “war crimes,” “Mariupol was destroyed” instead of “Russians destroyed Mariupol” – these aren’t just linguistic choices. These are theological decisions that reflect a readiness to betray truth for the sake of imaginary peace and unity, founded on the silence of aggression’s victims rather than truth.
Such language creates a theological reality where evil becomes anonymous, where responsibility dissolves, where truth dies in diplomatic formulations. This resembles Cain’s attempt to avoid responsibility by asking, “Am I my brother’s keeper?” Today this question sounds different: “Can we judge? Isn’t the situation complex? Isn’t it better to maintain neutrality?”
However, Abel’s blood didn’t cry from the earth about a “complex situation” – it cried about a specific crime by a specific murderer. And today the blood of hundreds of thousands of Ukrainian Abels cries just as specifically. When Christian organizations hide behind the language of neutralization, they’re not just choosing diplomatic formulations – they become complicit in attempting to muffle this cry, this voice of blood that demands truth.
In light of Christ’s theology of the cross (which is increasingly rejected by modern evangelicalism, unfortunately, in favor of a “positive message of hope”), the truth about the language of truth has soteriological significance. The Gospel doesn’t simply say “Jesus died” – it clearly names those who betrayed Him, condemned Him, and crucified Him. This isn’t just historical detail – it’s a theological principle: salvation comes through acknowledging specific truth, through naming specific sin, through specific repentance.
The Gospel testimony shows us different types of reactions to evil: Peter, who first denied but then found strength to say “you crucified”; Pilate, who tried to maintain neutrality by washing his hands; the chief priests, who called the killing of an innocent man “necessary for the people.” Today we see the same types of reactions to Russian (and not only) aggression in the international Christian community.
Yes, one can be complicit in crucifixion while sincerely offering a drink of water to the cross, consciously silencing the crucifixion itself while emphasizing the fact of humanitarian aid. This is what Russian evangelical Christians do when they emphasize: “We also serve Ukrainian refugees!” But is this the witness Christ calls us to? When the first Christians witnessed the resurrection, they didn’t say “a complex political-religious situation happened with Jesus.” They directly accused: “You, by the hands of lawless men, crucified Him” (Acts 2:23).
The price of truthful witness is always high. Just as the apostles risked everything by naming those guilty of Christ’s crucifixion, so today international Christian organizations risk losing access, funding, partnerships. But can we call ourselves witnesses of Christ if we fear being witnesses to truth? Christ said: “For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to bear witness to the truth” (John 18:37).
The theology of the cross demands from us not just acknowledgment of suffering, but naming those who caused this suffering. When Christian leaders and institutions refuse this witness for the sake of institutional comfort or “preserving ministry opportunities,” they betray not only the victims of violence – they betray the very essence of salvation and Christian calling in the world.
The prophetic tradition of the Old Testament shows us that God values directness and honesty more than polished theological, missiological, ecclesiological diplomacy. He chooses the uncomfortable Amos over moderate temple priests, the “extreme” Jeremiah over balanced religious leaders, the “unbalanced” Ezekiel over calm theologians. Why? Because their “unacceptable” language carried more truth than the diplomatic statements of some religious institutions.
When Jeremiah lamented Jerusalem’s ruins, he didn’t limit himself to general phrases about a “tragic situation.” He specifically named: “Babylon destroyed,” “the Chaldeans burned,” “enemies mocked.” His lament wasn’t just an emotional outpouring – it was theological testimony that combined pain with precision of accusation. Today, as we stand among the ruins of Mariupol or Bakhmut, Jeremiah’s voice cries to us: truthful witness demands specificity!
Instead, the modern “diplomatic” language of many international Christian organizations offers us another path. “We pray for all sides of the conflict,” “we call for dialogue,” “we avoid political assessments” – these formulations appear wise and balanced, but like those five virgins without oil, they prove empty. Don’t they remind us of the temple prophets who prophesied “peace, peace” when there was no peace? Don’t they repeat the mistake of those who tried to maintain a “balance of perspectives” between Egypt and enslaved Hebrews, between Babylon and destroyed Jerusalem?
The price of such neutrality proves horrific. When international Christian organizations refuse to call the aggressor an aggressor, they don’t just choose diplomatic language – they become complicit in the 21st century in concealing the crime of the largest full-scale war on the European continent since World War II. Their silence about specific perpetrators of the Ukrainian people’s suffering is not neutrality, it’s complicity. As Elie Wiesel said: “We must take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.”
Today, when blood cries out not only from Ukrainian soil but from many other “conflict zones” where Christian organizations “share the Gospel,” we face a fundamental theological challenge. When we call genocide a “humanitarian crisis,” mass killings a “complex situation,” and war crimes “challenges,” we are not just choosing diplomatic language… we are making a theological choice about the nature of truth and witness. The question “Where is your brother?” still sounds – everywhere blood of the innocent cries to heaven, while Christian institutions hide behind euphemisms of “peacemaking” and “neutrality.”
God didn’t accept Cain’s evasive answer “Am I my brother’s keeper?” and He won’t accept from us complex “theological-missiological” diplomatic formulations about the “complexity of the situation.” Because Truth and truth, like God, demand specificity – not for conflict’s sake, but for the possibility of genuine reconciliation, which is possible only through acknowledging reality in God’s language…
One day, everyone who chose the language of neutralizing evil for the sake of “preserving ministry opportunities” will face a question not about the effectiveness of their missiological strategy, but about faithfulness to the calling to be witnesses of Him who came into the world “to bear witness to truth” – even if this truth cost Him… life? The question will be simple and terrifying: “Where was your voice when Ukrainian blood was crying out? Why did you call Ukrainian genocide a ‘conflict’? Why did you speak about the ‘impact of the situation’ instead of calling Russian killers killers?”
—
Taras M. Dyatlyk
February 4, 2025, Tuesday
"The blood of hundreds of thousands of our defenders and civilians, cries out from the earth, just as Abel's blood once cried. It cries not about a ‘complex situation,’ not about ‘tragic circumstances,’ not about a ‘military conflict’ – it cries out for truth. And when I hear another international Christian organization speak about the ‘crisis in Ukraine,’ about ‘people's suffering,’ as if this suffering came from nowhere like a natural disaster, I feel how Andriy's blood screams about God's truth louder than all theological diplomatic euphemisms."
It touched me very much. Yes, how right you are. I keep hearing these very sentences: What is happening in Ukraine is a ‘tragic circumstance’, a very complex situation.
I hear it in Christian circles and sometimes even more: You have to understand it all from the ‘other side’, you don't know what the media is telling us. Some Christians believe that Putin is right and that the West is morally corrupt. He would be for the family, against gender and homosexuality, against abortion and other things that are crucial for them. They do not want to see anything else and do not even know about it. When I recommend my two books to them, they refuse. They don't have time or it wouldn't do them any good to read the memoirs ‘The Universe Behind the Barbed Wire’ by Myrsoslaw Marynowytsch, about his commitment to human rights, including the freedom to receive a Bible and to live the Christian faith. What Myroslaw experienced would be an important testimony that would also help Christians in Ukraine to understand. The book ‘A Cry of Despair’ with watercolours by the Christian artist and brother Danylo Movchan and the accompanying conversations are rarely sold even in Christian circles.
I will not remain silent about what others are saying about Ukraine. The occupation of Crimea would be understandable, since it is an old Russian territory. The Maidan was an action by the CIA, an illegal overthrow of the government. The war in Donbas is a civil war. Russian is being banned in Ukraine and the Russian population is being oppressed. Zelensky is an illegitimate president and just a puppet of the US and Biden. Ukraine is one of the most corrupt countries in the world. The West is a warmonger. Putin is a very reasonable man.
When I read this, I could only vomit. Russian propaganda works. And hardly any Christians ask how our brothers and sisters in Ukraine are doing. Do they even exist? And as always in the history of Ukraine, foreign powers decide what happens.
All this and the many blood cries to heaven, including the blood of your brother Andrij.
Today everyone is looking to Trump, as if he were the saviour. The majority of us don't like him, but see him as a chance to stop the war. The Ukrainians must finally sit down at the table and negotiate with Putin.
Yesterday, Trump called Putin. What I read afterwards about Trump shocked me completely, although I should have expected it. Two criminal men, one became president despite his moral failure ("David was also not morally clean), the other so good at crime that most of his crimes can only be uncovered at the risk of his life.
It would have been a good phone conversation, they would meet soon and solve the whole thing. That actually means that Putin decides what happens. And Europe should take care of its own defence. A good present for Putin: there are elections in Germany, the AfD is on the rise, in Hungary there is Orban, in Slovakia Fico, in Romania a candidate for the office of president who speaks of dividing up Ukraine.
Trump also wants to get the valuable natural resources in Ukraine that Russia has not yet taken.
In this context, I read yesterday's motto:
"They are all greedy, small and great, for dishonest gain. Prophets and priests alike all deal in lies, healing the wounds of my people only superficially, saying, ‘Peace! Peace!’ when there is no peace."
All this says more than enough. This is how God speaks to us.
I live in a very comfortable situation. No one in this world is actually better off than we are in Switzerland. But what about us? We are poor in the Spirit of God, cold and we Christians mostly lukewarm.
A crisis would have to shake us to awaken us and make us finally dependent on God.
Spiritually speaking, you are far better off in your dire situation. We can learn so much from you about what real faith means. You are no superman. What keeps you going is your constant commitment to the victims, which gives your life meaning. This gives you a strength that only God can give us.
I experienced a little of what it means to be dependent on God during my time of depression.
Please know that I am praying for you. I send you warm hugs. We will do it personally later this year.
Slava Ukraini
Max Hartmann
Kommentar schreiben