Mary Ann Jacobs | Treasuring my Ukrainian heritage as my heart breaks for that country

The daily reports from Ukraine are tearing my heart apart – as I am sure they are for many.

People who lived comfortable – but humble – lives are now burying their spouses, siblings and children and begging for food and shelter for those who are left.

This would be appalling anywhere with any group of people and, indeed, has been happening for centuries.

That peace-loving innocent people living in sovereign countries could find themselves being attacked and their homes bombed and destroyed seems like something that happened hundreds of years ago.

But to understand that it is happening now – in this moment, in a country where many of our ancestors have lived and continue to live – is extraordinary. I hate what is happening but I cannot stop watching because in my mind to do so would make the situation impersonal, which it most certainly is not.

I have mentioned previously that I am of Ukrainian ancestry. In truth, back then – in the 1950s and ’60s, I felt the pressure of being the grandchild of immigrants – of people who were from places where English was not spoken, where freedom was not a given, and where the lifestyle was very different.

Let me tell you about my family, church and church friends.

I grew up in Carnegie, Pa. (easily seen from the Parkway West on the way to the Pittsburgh airport). I was baptized in SS Peter and Paul Ukrainian Greek Orthodox Church and went there every Sunday with my parents.

It was quite an experience with liturgies averaging two hours for normal Sundays; on holidays, they went on far longer. The church was exquisite – small, but with stained-glass windows, a second-story choir loft accessed by spiral staircases on both sides, and traditional, hand-painted icons representing the life of Jesus Christ, his disciples, his birth, crucifixion, resurrection and love.

The older members of the church were very devout. Many were immigrants who came from what was then Ukraine, Czechoslovakia, Poland, Austria and many other countries.

They were revered (often struggling with English and needing help to be understood).

In my eyes, they were royalty – regular attendees to Sunday liturgies and also weekly volunteers in the adjacent church hall – where they faithfully came to make cabbage rolls, pirogy, bread, nut rolls, etc. to sell to parishioners, neighbors, friends and community folks interested in learning about other cultures.

The older women also ALWAYS sat in the left side of pews (men were on the right) and ALWAYS had their heads covered, not just with veils, but also with hats of all sizes – plain or decorated with feathers, birds, flowers, ribbons or fur.

Unless they were physically unable, they always knelt at appropriate times.

Between Good Friday and Easter morning, all parishioners were invited to come to church when convenient – to crawl from the church’s vestibule to the altar area where the depiction of Christ in the tomb was displayed.

I can remember my father – at age 70, and suffering from bone cancer – making that very journey.

The older men were always available for ushering, storytelling and bartending during church festivals.

During my later years in Carnegie, the older ladies and men also began offering Pysanky (Ukrainian Easter Egg) classes. These were slow to gain popularity from outside participants – but over the years, they have received considerable interest from church members, hobbyists and local artists ... not only in Carnegie but across America.

As children, we attended Ukrainian school – weekly gatherings where we learned the language, traditions and songs. When we were older, we learned traditional Ukrainian folk dances and performed for festivals, holidays and community events. The adults volunteered for various events, including hours cooking in the church hall for special dinners and weddings – as well as organizing trips, family events and special holiday celebrations.

My most vivid recollection was Christmas caroling with my father and various choir members every Jan. 7.

We would attend Liturgy in the morning, have a quick lunch with family, then join several other men and women to visit 15-20 church family homes to sing Christmas carols – most in Ukrainian, and a few in English.

Each home provided a beautiful buffet of holiday foods including ham, sausage, salads, nut rolls, bread, cookies and beverages. All beautiful memories ...

The Ukrainian people were warm, loving, humble, proud and genuine.

They always put family first but were quick to provide support, money and time for anyone in need. I took it all for granted back then, but truly appreciate the experience.

Sadly, I have lost the language from lack of use. I do still enjoy decorating Pysanki for Easter and have taught children, grandchildren and friends the art. My cabbage rolls (holupchi) are often requested for holidays and celebrations, but my pirogy and nut rolls are usually “disastrous.”

I am still in contact with some of my church friends and love seeing their beautiful Pysanki displays on Facebook. I do also prepare Svati Vecher – the 12-course meatless Christmas Eve dinner for family – but have substituted for some of the dishes in order to keep the children happy.

I even prepared a traditional Ukrainian dinner for the Johnstown Bottle Works – as a fundraiser a few years ago.

These are examples of the Ukrainian people – who are being forced to flee their families, homes and country in the name of greed, power and control. I am NOT in any way blaming the Russian people – who for the most part want peace like the rest of us – at least those who have access to real news and not the controlled reports that Vladimir Putin makes available.

Indeed, there was a Russian church just a few doors from my church and mingling after Liturgy was common. We were all Americans from different origins.

But my heart breaks at what I witness everyday. President Volodymyr Zelenskyy is a gift, and my parents and grandparents would be so proud of his accomplishments and his leadership.

Although there were times from my childhood when I did not really understand my origins and just wanted to “fit in,” I now realize the richness of my heritage and pray every night that it will survive this horrible time and be there for my grandchildren and great grandchildren to treasure.

So to mom, dad, Aunt Annie, Elizabeth, Beverly, Jeanne, Ted, and so many others ... Thank you for your support, your passion and your love of family and tradition.

Treasure your heritage; it is your core existence and we all come from different places – but we are Americans.

Please pray for Ukraine and for its freedom to live and thrive.

Mary Ann Jacobs is a retired teacher and college administrator. She is the mother of two, grandmother of six and married to Nick Jacobs.