Father Oleksandr “Sashko” Bohomaz didn’t flee when Russian troops invaded Ukraine Feb. 24, 2022, nor when they captured his home city of Melitopol on Feb. 26. For nine months, the Ukrainian Greek Catholic priest and K of C chaplain worked with his pastor, Father Petro Krenitskyi, to bring the sacraments to Ukrainians living under the Russian occupation. At the same time, he worked with his brother Knights to feed the hungry, shelter the homeless and care for the sick.
This work brought Father Bohomaz to the attention of authorities, who interrogated him repeatedly before arresting and deporting him to Ukrainian-controlled territory Dec. 1, a few days after Father Krenitskyi was similarly deported.
One of the topics of Father Bohomaz’s interrogations was the Knights of Columbus. Like the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church itself, the Knights of Columbus was banned by the Russian occupational government in late December 2022. Interrogators accused Father Bohomaz of recruiting men into the Knights — which was true: He has been encouraging men to join the Order since becoming one of the very first Ukrainian Knights as a seminarian in 2013. Two years later, he helped found St. Peter Council 16252 in Melitopol, which was active and growing at the time of the invasion.
Father Bohomaz, who now lives at the parish of St. Volodymyr the Great in Zaporizhzhia, spoke with K of C staff about his work as a chaplain in times of war, his arrest and deportation by occupation authorities, and the importance of faith in life-threatening circumstances. The following first-person account is adapted from that interview.
‘WHAT CAN A PRIEST DO?’
When the war started, I had to make the decision to stand with the people, and it came very naturally to me. I believe it was by grace, not my merit. The Lord gave grace, and I accepted it.
I asked myself: Who am I and what is my role here? And I remember the answer: “I am a priest. What can a priest do? A priest is here to administer the sacraments: Divine Liturgy, confession, Communion. All seven holy sacraments.”
I wanted to be present in the lives of our parishioners. I thought: “Jesus, I am your instrument. Wherever you want to go — I want to be your donkey. Show me where you want me to go, and I will go there and do what you want.” As long as he needed me to be somewhere, I was ready to go there.
Even during the occupation, the Knights played an important role. No one walked around with sashes, but they were dependable people whom you could count on. Essentially, it was humanitarian aid, typical challenges for such times: transporting someone, providing money for someone’s treatment, buying coal or firewood for heating because people didn’t have gas for heating. In the beginning, my pastor, Father Petro Krenitskyi, traveled to the villages every day — he brought bread with the Knights, which they bought in Melitopol because there was no bread in the villages.
There was a time when there was hardly anything to eat. We traveled to farms with our Knights, and packaged, distributed and delivered tons of grains, potatoes and vegetables.
When people left, we took care of the elderly people. One of our Knights took responsibility for an elderly woman who had dementia. Her children fled, and every day he brought her food and took care of her needs.
We communicated daily, participating in the Liturgy. That was an extraordinary source of joy and solace. I frequently had visits from the Knights. There were days when from morning till night, I was engaged in spiritual conversations — one person left, another arrived. The men just needed to share, to express themselves. You were always looking for someone to confide in. That is what we did — we listened a lot. It was a period of camaraderie and encouragement — a special time of brotherhood.
‘NO HOPE FOR THE NEXT DAY’
Russian authorities signed a document Dec. 26, 2022, banning the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church from occupied territories. Accordingly, all organizations born from our Church, including the Knights of Columbus, were also banned.
Occupation authorities came to me in the parish, to my house. There were interrogations, there were conversations. Sometimes they came in masks, with automatic weapons and questioned me directly, with threats and cursing, telling me to prepare for execution. Other times, they came without masks, as if they just wished to talk, saying, “Don’t be afraid, we’re your friends.” I told them, “Friends don’t come into my house with weapons.” They wanted me to cooperate with them, to tell them what people were confessing — that is, to break the seal of confession. Obviously, I refused.
During interrogations, and when the final search was conducted, they raised the issue of the Knights of Columbus. I didn’t know who these people truly were — they didn’t introduce themselves — but I understood them to be FSB [Federal Security Service of Russia] operatives. They accused the Knights of Columbus of being an American spy organization and said it was banned. They accused me of being the one who recruits men for it! Well, this was essentially true, because I did encourage our men to become Knights.
Two of our priests have been in captivity for almost a year and a half. [Editor’s note: Father Ivan Levitsky and Father Bohdan Geleta were abducted in November 2022 from the Church of the Nativity of the Most Holy Theotokos in Berdiansk, about 75 miles east of Melitopol. Their whereabouts remain unknown.] I don’t know why Father Petro and I are not in captivity, not in prison, or why we are alive. It’s a God-given miracle. I understand that I must strive to live fruitfully in life, responding to this gift from God.
There was a period when I didn’t dream or plan for the future at all. I lived day by day. When the Berdiansk priests and then Father Petro were taken away, I just waited for my turn. There was no hope for the next day. There was only today, and I wanted to live it to the fullest.
‘GOD WAS GUIDING ME’
Russian forces arrested and deported me from occupied territory Dec. 1, 2022, reading me the sentence and taking me to the last checkpoint outside Melitopol.
When I was passing through the Grey Zone [between Russian- and Ukrainian-controlled areas], walking toward Zaporizhzhia, I did not know if I would make it out alive. There was a strong sense of uncertainty. However, there was also a profound sense of God’s presence there. I promised the Virgin Mary that if I were to make it out alive, I would encourage people to pray the rosary.
So it happened that local people showed me paths so I wouldn’t step on mines. The first Ukrainian soldier I met there was one of our parishioners. He recognized me and started shouting and running toward me. That’s when I realized that God was guiding me.
Ten months later, the bishop gave me the task of taking the statue of Our Lady of Fatima and traveling through the parishes of our exarchate, to awaken this devotion to the Virgin Mary and teach people how to pray the rosary. As I was heading to the first parish, I remembered that promise, and I am very grateful to Our Lady for helping me fulfill it.
There is a lot of evil around me that I cannot overcome. I hear so many stories of injustice. I see so much misery. Some parishioners from Zaporizhzhia, who are now my friends, have no place to live because their homes are destroyed. Their children have no home. There is a hole where their house used to be. What can I do? I can listen to them, just take a rosary in my hand and pray. As a priest, I can also make God present through the sacraments.
We can’t be afraid to be present, even if it’s dangerous. I’m not a military chaplain, but I often visit our soldiers in the Melitopol Battalion of the Zaporizhzhia Territorial Defense. Once I came to a unit that was very close to the front line. I didn’t know what to do, but I began to prepare for the Divine Liturgy. I said maybe two sentences during the sermon because I didn’t know what else to say to them. But I saw how the Lord, present in the holy mysteries, changed those men. The chaplain, the priest, is an instrument of God.



