Last week, I stood to sing with the rest of my congregation on a Sunday morning. The music was beautiful and the atmosphere vibrant. But on this particular morning, my mind traveled to churches in Ukraine and their Sunday morning experience.
The nation is under attack, but the Church is not retreating. I thought of one sanctuary in western Ukraine, where the seats had been cleared away, replaced by rows of mattresses against the backdrop of a rough-hewn cross. Congregants were welcoming refugees, offering shelter, food, and hospitality. They weren’t waiting for aid agencies, government representatives, or international benefactors to respond to the war: They were welcoming weary travelers fleeing home.
I don’t know what their Sunday morning service looked like, if they served communion, sang together, or simply aired their hurts to God. But opening their doors to those seeking refuge was an act of worship.
I thought of the words of Isaiah 58, where God calls out empty ritual or the pretense of sacrifice from callous hearts. He wants justice and compassion—what many of Ukraine’s churches are modeling so beautifully right now.
Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:
to loose the chains of injustice
and untie the cords of the yoke,
to set the oppressed free
and break every yoke?
Is it not to share your food with the hungry
and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter—
when you see the naked, to clothe them,
and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood? (Isaiah 58:6-7)
Sharing food. Providing shelter. Providing clothes. And turning toward, not away from, those in need. Once again, our brothers and sisters are modeling justice and compassion as acts of worship.
