SAINT OLGA OF KYIV
COURAGE, CONVERSION, AND FAITH
Vengeance and Sainthood
After her husband was killed, Olga of Kyiv answered his death with a campaign of revenge. The medieval Primary Chronicle recounts envoys buried alive, men burned in a bathhouse, and the destruction of a city. These accounts mix history with legend, but they remember a ruler who made others suffer for what had been taken from her. Olga later received baptism and helped advance Christianity in her land. Her veneration as a saint sits alongside a record of violence that conversion cannot undo.
The Arguments I Invent
I have sat alone in my car and argued until I was furious with someone who had not spoken a word. In my mind, they interrupt at exactly the wrong moment and say precisely what proves my point. I never give them an answer that might change my understanding. By the time I arrive, I have rehearsed a confrontation and convinced myself that whatever happens next began entirely with them. I know the difference between that and Olga’s revenge, but I also know how much satisfaction I can take in preparing to make someone regret hurting me.
What Being Right Costs Me
Letting go becomes difficult because I have built so much around being right. Without the grievance, I would have to answer for my conduct without bringing theirs forward as evidence. I would have to hear how I affected someone without correcting their account to protect my intentions. Even before God, I can arrive prepared to argue for a reduced sentence rather than admit what needs to change. I want forgiveness, but I hesitate at the humility of an apology that asks for
The Harm I Justify
The ugliest part is how reasonable I can make it sound. I call a cutting remark honesty because admitting I wanted it to sting would expose too much. I withdraw my attention and wait for someone to feel the absence. Then I explain what they did first, as though the order of events settles the question of responsibility. Sometimes I am aware of the choice while making it. I have enough time to recognize the harm and still decide that, for this person, under these circumstances, I am entitled to cause it.
Before God Without My Excuses
Painting Olga leaves me alone with that hesitation. I cannot account for her conscience, but I have to live with mine, including the moments when I understood what love required and chose otherwise. Within The Redeemed, she gives form to a hope I find difficult to accept fully: God can receive me without accepting my excuses. I want to approach Him with less of a defense, willing to name what I have done and begin repairing what I can, even when nobody agrees that I was hurt first.