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Bishop of Kharkiv: We are a Church under bombs that loves and defies death
It is the fourth year of war, and the intensity of the bombings — which occur not only in Kharkiv but throughout Ukraine — is increasing. Jun 20, 2025
Bishop Pavlo Honcharuk of Kharkiv-Zaporizhzhia
By Svitlana DukhovychIt is the fourth year of war, and the intensity of the bombings — which occur not only in Kharkiv but throughout Ukraine — is increasing.
In an interview with Vatican Media, Bishop Pavlo Honcharuk of the Latin Diocese of Kharkiv-Zaporizhzhia, recounts, "Ballistic missiles fly, and hundreds of drones carry explosive charges.'
The Ukrainian Bishop had participated in the General Audience on Wednesday, June 18, during which Pope Leo XIV mentioned Ukraine's suffering in his appeals.
The Pope's blessing
Shortly afterward, the Ukrainian Bishop had the opportunity for a brief conversation with the Pope during the customary hand-kissing. 'I felt the sense of peace and serenity that reigns in this place,' he said, reflecting on his encounter with Pope Leo XIV.
'When the Pope arrived, his very presence, his face radiated peace and calm," the Bishop shares, "That was my first impression."
"I greeted him and asked for a blessing — for myself, for the priests, the sisters, the diocese, and for all the Ukrainian people, and he replied, 'I bless you.'" he continues, saying, "It was brief, but it left a deeply positive impression on my heart.'
The anguish of bombings on civilians
The peace and tranquility perceived in St. Peter's Square sharply contrast with the reality the 47-year-old Bishop left behind in Ukraine.
'The Russian army,' he recounts, 'is bombing civilian homes. People often don't expect such massive threats and don't always have time to get to shelters. It's very dangerous near the frontlines due to guided aerial bombs, which penetrate deeply. A crater from such a bomb can reach eight meters deep and 30 meters wide. If it hits a house, nothing remains — not the structure, nor anyone inside.'
Life and death side by side
The situation in Kharkiv, just 30 kilometers from the Russian border, is dramatic.
'Playgrounds where children gather, factories, farms — everything is being destroyed,' Bishop Honcharuk says.
'Entire villages and towns," he laments, "have been wiped out. Even our Kharkiv is heavily damaged, though local authorities are doing all they can to clean up after the attacks. After every explosion, hundreds of homes are left without windows. If that happens during the cold season, homes become uninhabitable. Many have been displaced. People have lost everything.'
A river of suffering
This river of human suffering, this flood of terrible stories, does not stop; rather, it grows, the Bishop continues.
'Cemeteries are expanding, with more and more Ukrainian flags marking the graves of fallen soldiers," he says, reiterating, "The pain is immense, and the suffering seems endless. We live in a situation where life and death walk side by side — there may be an explosion on one street, and children walking down the next. This is our reality.'
Referring to those who have remained in Kharkiv, Bishop Honcharuk recalls data shared by the city's mayor about a month and a half ago: of the original 2.7 million residents before the full-scale war, around 500,000 remain. To these, roughly the same number of displaced people from nearby towns and villages have been added.
Staying with the people
Since the beginning of the Russian invasion, the Roman Catholic Bishop of Kharkiv-Zaporizhzhia has stayed close to his people.
The priests of his diocese continue their ministry, even though the number of parishes has decreased.
'Entire towns have been destroyed, and so have the parishes. For example,' he says, 'Pokrovsk — where we had a parish — is still under Ukrainian control, but it has been nearly wiped off the map. The parish is gone, the chapel is destroyed, there are no parishioners, and the priest had to leave because dangerous fiber-optic drones constantly fly overhead. But in general, the priests remain, supporting the people — celebrating Mass, leading prayers, hearing confessions, visiting the sick, and simply being there.'
The wounded humanity of soldiers
Bishop Honcharuk notes that soldiers often come to talk with priests. Alongside the physical strain and grief for fallen comrades, they carry another heavy burden: a wounded humanity, a wounded soul — because they've been forced to take up arms.
'Ukrainian soldiers defend their homeland," he says, noting, "Out of love for their families and their country, they are forced to do what they would never choose to do — to take another life.'
'It's like when you see a pot of boiling water falling on someone, and you grab it to stop it," the Bishop compares, observing, "That person doesn't get burned — but your hands do."
"That's how it is for our soldiers," he acknowledges, saying, "Their humanity is burned. They come to us with these spiritual wounds, seeking to talk, to be supported.'
Humanitarian aid at risk
The Bishop of Kharkiv also highlights the ongoing need for humanitarian aid, which has significantly decreased.
'There's much less now,' he says, 'and it's also dangerous to store supplies in warehouses, because if the Russian army locates them, they target them for destruction. They do everything possible to make life unbearable, to push people into despair. In the midst of all this, the Church is present: there are priests and sisters, supported by volunteer groups."
He notes they have larger organizations like Caritas, but also smaller parish-based groups that are very effective.
"The Church," he continues, "is alive. It lives because the people are the Church — not just the priests. The Church is all of us, the baptized. And today, in Ukraine, the Church stands with the people. The Church is present in our soldiers, in our volunteers, in doctors and healthcare workers. The Church is in our parishes, in our streets.'
Supporting priests with immense weight on their shoulders
A Bishop's task, he reaffirms, is to care for his clergy, underscoring how despite the extreme conditions, this remains a priority for him.
'The priests,' he emphasizes, 'are my closest collaborators. A priest knows the people, supports them, weeps with them, shares their suffering. He takes heavy blows and doesn't always have someone to share them with."
"My role," the Bishop therefore reflects, "is to support the priests. I try to be close to them, to visit them, to pray with them. We also provide ongoing training to help them understand what happens to a person — body and mind — in wartime.
"When a priest understands what is happening inside himself and to others," then he has the tools to endure," the Bishop observes, warning, "Nothing breaks a person more than running away from a problem they don't understand.'
The cost of life and freedom
Before becoming a Bishop, then-Monsignor Honcharuk served as a military chaplain, so he is used to speaking with soldiers and he gives thanks to God for them.
After remembering seeing their exhausted faces and hearing their many hardships, the Bishop explains a certain phenomenon which tends to occur.
"But then — and this fascinates me," he marvels, "something suddenly shifts, and they say, 'If not me, then who?' Those words carry everything: even the awareness they may die, as many comrades have.
For example, he said, he never asks, "'Where is your fellow soldier?' Because he may be gone. They simply ask me to pray — and I do. I don't even ask if it's for the living or the dead, because it hurts too much. It's a deep wound.'
Traces of God's love
'Our soldiers are strong people,' the Bishop says, 'because their sacrifice for others makes them strong. They sacrifice even part of their inner peace. God did not create humans to kill. And when a person takes another's life, that leaves a mark. This is the price of our life and our freedom. That's why we honor our soldiers, we pray for them, for the prisoners, for those who have lost loved ones — so many families, so many children, so many orphans.
The Bishop remembers having recently seen some videos circulating of graduation celebrations in Ukraine, in which many girls dance the waltz wearing their fallen fathers' uniforms.
"It's very moving. It tells of immense pain. But even in all this," he says, "we see traces of God's love, His presence, and His goodness — and we keep going.'--Vatican News
