DALLAS – Vladimir Grygorenko gazed at his decade-long work: extraordinary murals and canvases of religious icons that took an iron will to finish at St. Seraphim Orthodox Cathedral.
Then, the 56-year-old artist turned to the crisis in his homeland of Ukraine and the resolve of its people. The unprovoked war there against Russian forces has taken thousands of lives – and brought in a stream of donations that include bulletproof vests and helmets.
“They will be resisting until the last person is standing alive,” Grygorenko said, inside the incense-scented cathedral. “This is not emotionalism. It is fact.”
For decades, this congregation has worshiped in the Dallas cathedral, part of the Orthodox Church of America. It is the center of devotional life for hundreds of Christian families, including those of Ukrainian and Russian origins. Today, those families of Ukrainian and Russian ancestry make up about a quarter of the congregation of 350.
Grygorenko and his family joined the church following his experience painting the iconography at the cathedral. Now Grygorenko is asking for prayer and understanding of the geopolitics between Russia, Ukraine and the United States.
Each day, the artist calls family and friends in Ukraine. Among the relatives are those assisting in the military effort. “They are patrolling streets trying to protect the civilians,” he said, adding that others living outside Ukraine are trying to get back to volunteer for the military.
The exodus of Ukrainians fleeing the country now exceeds a million – an astoundingly fast migration in a war that scaled up to a full invasion just over a week ago, said Filippo Grandi, the U.N. High Commissioner for Refugees. “For many millions more, inside Ukraine, it’s time for guns to fall silent, so that life-saving humanitarian assistance can be provided,” he pleaded in a tweet.
Geopolitics runs through the devotion that Grygorenko brings to his art.
He was born in Ukraine when it was part of the old Soviet Union. He was an atheist. But as he took to painting and religious art created in the 12th century Byzantine style, his belief in God grew. He embraced Christianity in 1991 shortly after Ukraine gained its independence as the Soviet Union crumbled. The artist, who trained in mechanical engineering, is now a subdeacon of St. Seraphim Orthodox Cathedral.
Bishop Gerasim of St. Seraphim calls Grygorenko “a tremendous person.”
The bishop says the challenges ahead should be met with prayer.
“We asked people to pray for them, to learn more about them and their culture, to befriend them and to follow what’s taking place especially,” said Bishop Gerasim, who is rector of the Cathedral.
Grygorenko’s father was Jewish, and Russian is his first language, he said. He grew up in Dnipro, Ukraine, not far from the southern Ukrainian hometown of President Volodymyr Zelensky.
Zelensky, a former actor, is also Jewish. When first elected Ukraine’s president in 2019, the artist said he wasn’t impressed. Now, Grygorenko praises Zelensky’s ability to galvanize people for his nation, in Ukraine and much of the world. In one memorable speech, Zelensky said, “In attacking us, you will see our faces, not our backs.”
Grygorenko calls Zelensky “a gifted politician. I definitely changed my mind about him.”
In 2012, Grygorenko became a U.S. citizen and registered Republican. He voted for former President Donald Trump in the 2020 election. He quickly adds that he believes President Joe Biden won the presidential election legitimately.
He said he wasn’t worried about Trump’s friendliness with Russian President Vladimir Putin. The U.S. is a democracy in which the president doesn’t rule alone, Grygorenko said. “That’s what I like about the United States.”
But Putin, on the other hand, is dangerous and wants to divide the U.S., he said.
The effort by Putin to sell the invasion as a “denazification” attempt backfired, inspiring ridicule because the Ukrainian president is Jewish. Calling for denazification in Ukraine is like calling for the U.S. to denazify because of the Proud Boys, Grygorenko said.
As the death toll climbs in Ukraine, in the filtered light streaming through arched windows into the cathedral, Grygorenko turns to prayer amid the icons that brought him faith.
“It converted me,” he said, “It is my conversation with God.”
A light reflects off a pin on his shirt. It’s the blue and yellow flag of Ukraine entwined with the red, white and blue flag of the U.S.
