Why?

Two years ago, I became fascinated with learning the Ukrainian language. I don't know exactly how to explain why. 

My father was fluent in German but not a native speaker. He was passionate about language. Language was a great love in his life, a daily joy that surpassed being a mere hobby for him. He became excited by learning new words. He continually flipped tiny flash cards he made with new vocabulary on them. He was always seeking out German friends to talk to. And before long, my dad was thinking in German and dreaming in German. Late in life, when my dad had acute episodes of dementia, sometimes he forgot English and all he was able to speak was German. 

I really dislike the language of German and always have. I don't like its guttural sounds and it's non-melodic speech rhythm. I don't like German things. I dislike beer. The smell of sauerkraut often present in our house absolutely made me want to vomit and it destroyed my appetite for many meals. Yet, when my dad was very ill, I made an effort to learn German for him and it made him very happy.

As soon as my dad passed away, and I that deep, aching void that grief creates cries out to be filled, I decided to seek joy through language, the way my father always did. It made him feel closer somehow. And yet, my attention did not go to a Germanic language or to a Latin language. My attention went directly to a Slavic language. 

Again, why? 

The Ukrainian Catholic Church became a great love. When we love something, we often want to know it deeply. I knew almost nothing about the entire region of Eastern Europe before attending Liturgy. I knew virtually no history of the region, nor its culture. I had never seen an iconostasis. I had never eaten a perogi or paska bread. I had never seen a Slavic dance. I never heard the beauty of the enchanting melody that is the Ukrainian language. I was born a WASP, a white, Anglo-Saxon Protestant, half British, part German and a mix of other Northeastern European influences.

Language and culture are indelibly intertwined, and when mixed with my Faith, they became a united influence. My father brought me faith and love of language, but I chose a different faith and language to explore than he did.

My Faith is everything to me. As a child of ten, I was drawn to the Catholic Faith and it became the love of my life. I remember a Catholic parent, while on a church trip, asking me, "Why are you here? Your family doesn't want you here. You don't have any friends here." I said to her, "Jesus is here," and then walked away from her. 

There's just something amazingly bright and vibrant, ineffable and impalpable, about the Church Christ gave us from the very beginning. No one else has to understand it. No one else has to agree with it. Even I can't say I understand it. 

I did form a close relationship with a nun named Sister Dorothy and I did immediately wanted to become a nun as she was. I wanted to be all of that peace and strength that she was. My introduction to Mass was the Novus Ordo, and Novus Ordo was magnificent enough for me. I had no idea there was anything else. I knew Jesus was alive in the Eucharist. I knew it before anyone ever told me. Everything in me knew it and I was not even supposed to be receiving it. Yes, I stopped that. And I won't even describe the wrenching pain I experienced when five years later, my parents forbid me to go back to my Church. 

I was almost lost forever, but I was finally saved when I went through RCIA. I was in my early forties when I found my way back to the Church, after following virtually every other useless path before it. My life before was easy to renounce, and fully. Yet, after experiencing the Latin Mass and spending three years as a Secular Carmelite, I ended up being pulled in a completely new direction.

Byzantine Rite Catholicism was an acquired taste. It pulled me out of my past "comfort zone" of familiarity and that was scary. At the same time, not only is the Presence of Jesus there but I experienced Him more strongly than ever, and my Faith and connection with Him deepened. It has never stopped. If this is where Jesus has pulled me, and yes, he has pulled me strongly, I want to explore all there is in all its depth.

And so, three years ago, I became a student of the Ukrainian language.