Kyiv: In a land scarred by war and nightly air raids, Father Yaroslav Rokhman continues his ministry in the perinatal center of Ivano-Frankivsk a sanctuary for expectant mothers turned into a shelter during bombings. With rockets raining down and the haunting wail of sirens cutting through the night, he offers something that cannot be measured in aid or arms: presence, prayer, and a refusal to surrender hope.
In a deeply personal reflection shared with Vatican Media, Father Rokhman described a recent terrifying night when Russian drones and missiles struck multiple regions across Ukraine, including his own. “The explosions were deafening,” he recalled. “We huddled in the basement, trying to convince our children that we were safe. My eight-year-old daughter was paralyzed with fear. And I thought of the thousands of others who don’t even have the comfort of a basement families in high-rises with nowhere to run.”
The drone barrage on July 21 was one of the most intense since the full-scale invasion began, with over 400 drones and 24 missiles targeting cities such as Kyiv, Kharkiv, and Ivano-Frankivsk. Fires engulfed homes, kindergartens, and even supermarkets. In Kramatorsk, a 10-year-old child was killed. In Putyvl, 13 people, including a 5-year-old, were wounded in a late-night strike. The mayor of Ivano-Frankivsk called it the most violent assault his region has faced.
Amid the destruction, Father Rokhman’s responsibilities extend beyond the spiritual. He is chaplain to a hospital where pregnant women many on the edge of labor must be evacuated to a cramped basement each time the sirens wail. “There’s barely space,” he said. “These are vulnerable women who need medical care, not improvised shelters. But what can we do when bombs don’t spare even hospitals?”
He admits the psychological toll is profound. “There’s a sense of helplessness. You feel exposed, powerless. You fear for your own life, your children’s, your parishioners’, your neighbors’. The fear is real. But so is our resolve.”
After that harrowing night, he did not cancel the morning liturgy. “At 8 a.m., I walked to church,” he recounted. “I saw a traffic jam. People were still going to work. And I thought this is the strength of Ukraine. Exhausted, shaken, but still moving forward. Still showing up.”
For Father Rokhman and his fellow priests both Greek-Catholic and Roman Catholic the war has transformed pastoral care into an act of spiritual resistance. “This constant bombardment can turn stress into anger,” he said. “But as priests, we urge our people not to let that aggression consume them. We must resist not with hatred, but with love. Love for our country, our families. Even I feel anger, I’m human but I try to convert it into service.”
He shared the memory of a small but powerful act of defiance at the very beginning of the invasion. “A friend of mine posted a photo of a man sweeping a courtyard on the morning of February 24, 2022. The caption read: ‘He made my day brighter.’ In that act that cleaner choosing normalcy in chaos was strength.”
That spirit continues today. Even when fragments of a missile struck the Church of the Protection of the Mother of God in the remote village of Vasiuchyn in late June, the people did not scatter. “It was Sunday, just after dawn,” he recalled. “The church was damaged, we couldn’t go inside. But the faithful gathered outside in the square, near the fallen debris. They prayed, thanked God they were safe, and asked Him for peace. No panic. Just quiet resilience.”
In the face of relentless violence, Father Rokhman’s voice rises not in defiance but in faithful conviction: that every act of love every liturgy, every whispered prayer in a bomb shelter, every parent comforting a frightened child is an act of resistance, and perhaps, a path toward peace.
“We cannot let the bombs steal our humanity,” he says. “And we won’t.”