The film is a biography of Metropolitan Andrei Sheptytsky, who died shortly after Lviv was liberated by the Red Army from the even-greater tyranny of the Nazis. It is probable that he was murdered by poisoning, Khrushchev hinted at this, saying his death was perhaps not natural. The basic plot is that the killer was a priest on his staff, leant on by the NKVD. The premise of the film is that, in our time, a researcher in the national archives finds out the truth and then confronts the man. As the researcher looks at various aspects of the Metropolitan’s life, the film flashes back, in chronological sequence, to his childhood, his early life as a bishop, the murder of his brother by the Soviets and, principally, the Nazi tyranny. No one can doubt that he was a great person. The film touches on points of controversy, but doesn’t confront the possibility that the Metropolitan may have made mistakes in the turmoil of the Fascist occupation. It is beautifully shot and the acting is excellent, especially the main actor in the title role. The Metropolitan’s humanity comes through. To get as much information, you would have to read Korolevsky’s biography and Kelleher’s work on the Greek Catholic church. One of the most touching episodes is the scene between the Metropolitan and Kurt, the son of Rabbi Lewin. That called to mind the memoir written by Rabbi Kahane who was hidden by the Metropolitan with his wife and daughter. One scene in that memoir illustrates to me that when a person has faults, his humanity is revealed.
Many Ukrainians believed that liberation from Soviet tyranny was at hand when the Germans invaded in 1941. A committee was set up to cooperate with the Nazis in the hope of establishing nationhood. As soon as the declaration of independence was made, the Metropolitan warned the politicians that their rule should be based on law and guaranteeing that there should be no discrimination on the basis of ethnic origin, nationality or religion. This was a clear reference to the Ukrainian people of Jewish faith. When the Nazi policies unfolded, he wrote to Himmler protesting at the murder of Jewish people and the drafting into this vicious task of easily-led Ukrainians. The Nazi who delivered Himmler's response bluntly told the Metropolitan that if it were not for his age, he would have been shot for meddling in matters that should not concern him. As the abuses against the Jewish people escalated from the murder of smaller groups, to ghettoisation, to mass murder, the two rabbis were among those who turned to him for assistance. Chief Rabbi Lewin asked that he should hide the scrolls of Torah. The Metropolitan saved them from desecration. Rabbi Lewin felt that the fate of his people was his own, and he chose to share death with them. His son, Kurt, however, was sheltered by the Metropolitan. Rabbi David Kahane, his wife and daughter, were also among the hundreds put into hiding by the Metropolitan.
Rabbi Kahane was deeply troubled by the suffering of his people. His faith told him that the Jewish people were in a covenant with God; that He was their shepherd and they his flock. Years later, writing his memoir, ‘Lvov Ghetto Diary’, of that terrible time, Rabbi Kahane speculated that the abuses inflicted on his people could be a punishment from God in response to assimilation. It was also possible, he thought, that from time to time God veiled his face so that He did not see and did not respond to injustice.
Out of a sense of misplaced kindness, while hiding in the library of the palace of the Metropolitan, a priest brought him some books that were written after the Ukrainians had made their first official pilgrimage in 1903 to the Holy Land. One of them contained unworthy comments, comparing the Jews praying at the Western Wall with those who were merchants at home. The author called this part of the Temple Mount by the offensive term “the Wailing Wall.” He wrote that “forever you will weep and will not stop; the walls will never be rebuilt”. One night, the rabbi asked the Metropolitan about this. Did it mean that if an independent Jewish community ever established a nation in Israel, the Christian Church would refuse to recognise the state? The memoir continues:
The Metropolitan thought for a moment before answering and then began: ‘I would like to place your question in the context of the present situation of the people of Israel. You must know that the Church displays a humane and friendly attitude towards the Jewish people. The official Church harshly and sternly denounces attacks on Jews. We are opposed to the atrocities of the Nazis and we shall do our utmost to denounce them as inhuman and sacrilegious. The Pastoral Letter of the German Cardinal, Faulhaber, as well as my own Pastoral Letter of November 1942, provide unmistakeable evidence of the stance of the Church towards Nazism and its position on the Jewish question. Publication of my Pastoral Letter was beset with difficulties and it had to run through several trials of censorship. Recently, an official delegation from the German Foreign Ministry paid me a visit. I openly denounced their deeds and lodged a protest against the brutal and cruel treatment of the Jews. As human beings, we are obliged to voice our opposition to this and condemn in the strongest terms the persecution of Jews and all forms of racial discrimination. I am aware that over the centuries, Christendom committed sins against the Jews. I am aggrieved by this, deeply aggrieved, and I do as much as I can to forestall the grave sin of persecution of Jews. This much I stress in my letter to Himmler. As for the book on the pilgrimage, there are a number of theological postulations of a dogmatic nature which requires to take certain exceptions to the Zionist political aspirations concerning an independent Jewish state in Palestine’. The Metropolitan fell silent for a moment and continued: ‘Have you ever thought about it and asked yourself, what is the source of the hatred and savage persecution of the Jewish people from ancient times until the present? What is their origin?’ He pointed at the bookshelves, asked me to find the New Testament in Hebrew translation and locate chapter 27, verse 25, in the Gospel according to Matthew: ‘It says there, ‘and the whole people answered and said His blood will be on us and on our children.’ In other places, Jesus says explicitly that not a stone will be left standing of the Temple and the glory of Jerusalem. If you ponder this, and take into consideration the relevant chapters of the New Testament, you will understand the comments of the author of the book on our pilgrimage.’
One can only imagine what the thoughts of the rabbi were at hearing this. The Metropolitan was expressing a doctrinal view. His actions proved that his human attitudes transcended any temptation to exclusion, much less to hatred. We do not know where the heart of the Metropolitan led his thoughts that night. He was a great scholar and he had described in a letter to a friend how when an understanding of sacred scripture came to him, it was like a literal illumination. Perhaps he remembered the horrible drama that led to Christ’s death unfolded among Jews and Romans. Political manipulation distorted their minds. As an antidote to what was then standard thinking, and that certainly never made it right, the Metropolitan had seen at first hand how a small clique in Germany had manipulated a talented people to the point of causing many millions of deaths by murder and war. The Soviet example of power, under which he, his family, his church, and his people had suffered, was not different. Now his people were manipulated, despite all his efforts, into murder. The Gospel account of the betrayal of Christ, the distortions of his trial and the diversion of the natural goodness of the people, which all evangelists make clear, so that some of the people were drawn into calling for crucifixion, are hardly different. Manipulations and distortions occur in every era: being led by them is part of human nature.
On the next morning, the rabbi was informed that the Metropolitan wished to see him that evening. The conversation was deferred for safety until after nightfall when all the visitors to the palace, including Nazi spies, would be gone. That evening, the rabbi was ushered into the Metropolitan’s study. He was invited to sit next to him. Then he spoke:
Our conversation yesterday did not let me sleep. I am remorseful and sorry about the content of our conversation. I shouldn’t have spoken as I did. In the ongoing ordeal when the Jewish people bleed to death and sacrifice hundreds of thousands of innocent victims, I should have known better than to touch upon this subject. I knew that such a conversation aggrieved you greatly. I ask you to forgive me. After all, I am mortal and for a moment I let myself be distracted. He reached out his hand and warmly shook mine. His eyes and face were more eloquent than his words in asking for forgiveness. If I still harboured any doubts about the purpose of his rescue undertakings, his candid words issuing straight from the heart, dispelled them completely. It was such extraordinary, thoroughly humane persons that our sages had in mind when they wrote: ‘The righteous of the nations of the world have a portion in the world to come’.
This magnificent film will open many to an awareness of a uniquely complex and good life.
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Piotr Charleton
, Dublin, Ireland