DON’T FORGET, SERBS!

Serbian Patriarch Pavle DO NOT FORGET

Do you still go to Gnjilane, Serb? Did you visit Bjelopolje? Can I meet you sometimes in Peć or walk with you through Prizren? Do you sow in Svinjar or Čaglavica? Do your children know where Obilić is? Walk, Serb, through the ruins of your childhood home, and when your path leads south, do not bypass the cradle where you were raised. Go deliberately to your brother with whom you grew up, to be together today. Do not forget him, who stayed behind, searching through darkness and rubble for the candle that once hung above the icon and who rebuilt the walls of his destroyed home, so it could burn again. Remember how you judged him for not fleeing, and how he never resented you for having to leave.

For him, the greatest sorrow remains: to drink a small glass of rakija alone for the souls of those whose graves are lost, to have none to toast with, and to choke on the air still scented with the smoke of devastation. He stayed to preserve this sacred Serbian land where our ancestors rest, a land that would have cursed us all had he surrendered. Even today, he prays with his children, safeguarding all that is Serbian, ensuring the footsteps of Lazar and Dušan are not erased, that Sava’s candles continue to burn, and that ruined graves and desecrated altars are not consumed by weeds. He preserves memories of the fallen, worthy of remembrance himself. He asks for nothing, yet searches for you in the yellowed photographs he found in the ruins, promising to protect them for you. There is no one like you, Serb strong, beautiful, smiling, and healthy… You only watch him from a silent picture, yet you do not let him stop hoping that both of you are alive. You do not let him lock the door and leave, even though he has few left around him. He does not leave because he could never forgive himself if one day you returned and found no one at home. That is why he is steadfast, why he preserved his children in the same courtyard, sent them to Serbian schools, taught them Cyrillic, dressed them in traditional attire, told them about you, and taught them to love you. All this, Serb, so that no one forgets for whom these churches were built, whose feet walked the crosses, why our children do not know each other, and whom Serbian hands have been waiting for, raised to heaven over Kosovo and Metohija, for sixteen hard years. Do not flee, Serb, into that world which was deafeningly silent while centuries echoed across Kosovo and Metohija. Do not turn your back on your brother who stayed. Stand by him, following the example of those who came before. Carry, Serb, your cross of suffering, the cross from Kosovo and Metohija, and rise proudly before those who sought to take from you what God planted in your heart. You alone can testify on behalf of the innocent, whose voices were silenced, whose loved ones were driven away, and whose homes and memories were burned. Remember every street you walked, their names and houses. Remember the place of your birth, for such markers no longer exist. Memory is the only honoring witness to an unparalleled suffering of a civilization, inexplicably silent while its people were persecuted, its history burned, its culture destroyed, and its honor and reputation forever tarnished. Do not leave, Serb, and do not forget the only way to preserve ourselves is to remember March 17th!