According to Pastor Andrew, the answer is YES. And in his short video you should watch here, he provides very strong evidence to support this controversial (but rapidly growing) theory.
Mazepa, Ivan [Мазепа, Іван], b 20 March 1639 in Mazepyntsi, near Bila Tserkva, d 2 October 1709 in Bendery, Bessarabia. Hetman of Ukraine in 1687–1709; son of Stepan-Adam Mazepa and Maryna Mazepa. He studied at the Kyivan Mohyla College and at the Jesuit college in Warsaw. While a page at the court of Jan II Casimir Vasa in Warsaw, he was sent by the king to study in Holland. In 1656–9 he learned gunnery in Deventer and visited Germany, Italy, France, and the Low Countries. After his return to Warsaw Mazepa continued his service as a royal courtier, and in 1659–63 he was sent on various diplomatic missions to Ukraine. The legend of his affair with Madame Falbowska and his subsequent punishment by being tied to the back of a wild horse was first popularized by the Polish memorialist J. C. Pasek. Although it has no basis in fact, it has inspired a number of European Romantics, including Franz Liszt, Peter Tchaikovsky, George Byron, Victor Hugo, and Aleksandr Pushkin and led to a rather fanciful image of the Ukrainian hetman as a youth. In 1663 Mazepa returned to Ukraine to help his ailing father. After his father’s death in 1665 he succeeded him as hereditary cupbearer of Chernihiv. In 1669 Mazepa entered the service of Hetman Petro Doroshenko as a squadron commander in the Hetman’s Guard, and later he served as Doroshenko’s chancellor. He took part in Doroshenko’s 1672 campaign against Poland in Galicia and served on diplomatic missions, including ones to the Crimea and Turkey (1673–4). During a mission in 1674 he was captured by the Zaporozhian otaman Ivan Sirko, who was forced to hand him over to Doroshenko’s rival in Left-Bank Ukraine, Ivan Samoilovych. Mazepa quickly gained the confidence of Samoilovych and Tsar Peter I, was made a ‘courtier of the hetman,’ and was sent on numerous missions to Moscow. Mazepa participated in the Chyhyryn campaigns, 1677–8. In 1682 he was appointed Samoilovych’s general osaul. He was elected the new hetman on 25 July 1687 by the Cossack council that deposed Samoilovych and concluded the disadvantageous Kolomak Articles with the tsar. Mazepa’s political program had become evident during his service to Petro Doroshenko and Ivan Samoilovych. He was a firm supporter of a pan-Ukrainian Hetman state, and his main goal as hetman was to unite all Ukrainian territories in a unitary state that would be modeled on existing European states but would retain the features of the traditional Cossack order. Initially Mazepa believed that the Cossack Hetman state could coexist with Muscovy on the basis of the Pereiaslav Treaty of 1654. Mazepa actively supported Muscovy’s wars with Turkey and the Crimean Khanate and sent his forces to help those of Peter I (see Russo-Turkish wars). Although the Treaty of Constantinople of 3 July 1700 did not extend Ukrainian dominion to the Black Sea, it temporarily secured Ukrainian lands from Turkish encroachment and Crimean Tatar incursions. Until 1708 Mazepa also supported Peter I in the first phase of his Great Northern War with Sweden, by providing the Muscovites with troops, munitions, money, and supplies in their effort to capture the Baltic lands. Mazepa’s participation in the war made it possible for him to take control of Right-Bank Ukraine in 1704, after Semen Palii’s Cossack revolt effectively weakened Polish authority there. Mazepa’s relations with Palii were not entirely positive, however. Mazepa did not share the Fastiv colonel’s radical social policies, and that difference gave rise to conflicts between them. Mazepa contributed to the development of Ukraine’s economy, particularly its industry. He also supported Ukrainian scholarship (history in particular) and education (the transformation of the Kyivan Mohyla College into the Kyivan Mohyla Academy, the establishment of Chernihiv College). Under his hetmancy literature flourished (see Dymytrii Tuptalo, Stefan Yavorsky, Ioan Maksymovych, Teofan Prokopovych, and Yoasaf Krokovsky). Mazepa himself wrote some verse. He was a generous patron of painting and architecture, who funded many churches built in the Cossack baroque style in Kyiv, Chernihiv, Pereiaslav, Baturyn, Pryluky, and other towns. Mazepa was also a patron of the Orthodox church outside Ukraine. He funded the publication of the New Testament in Arabic in Aleppo in 1708, and he donated an Easter shroud and a pure gold chalice for the Tomb of the Lord in Jerusalem. Although Mazepa was able to establish a new and loyal senior Cossack starshyna, he also faced considerable opposition from many members of the Cossack elite, and even open rebellion (see Petro Petryk, Vasyl Kochubei, and Ivan Iskra). Mazepa’s many attempts to secure the rights of the Cossacks as an estate (the universal of 1691), the burghers (a series of universals protecting their rights), and the peasantry (the universal of 28 November 1701 limiting corvée to two days a week) could not stem the growth of social discontent caused by endless wars, abuse of the population by Muscovite troops stationed in Ukraine, destruction, and increasing exploitation by the landowning starshyna. Mazepa’s alliance with Peter I also caused onerous responsibilities and losses to be inflicted on the population, in particular as a result of the Great Northern War and Muscovite exploitation in Ukraine. Consequently Mazepa was deprived of the popular support he needed at a critical juncture in Ukrainian history
According to Pastor Andrew, the answer is YES.
And in his short video you should watch here, he provides very strong evidence to support this controversial (but rapidly growing) theory.
At first, we were quite skeptical, and I even asked the pastor point blank…
“Are you saying that God made a mistake?”
The pastor was quick to respond, and said –
“God doesn’t make mistakes. But 1800 years ago, we believe a biblical translator DID.”
The pastor then went on to explain his theory…
“It is our belief that ONE, single, mistranslated word in the bible – which occurred about 200 years after the death of Jesus – is responsible for an incredible amount of needless suffering.”
I felt that the pastor truly believed what he was claiming…
And frankly, it was as shocking to me as it was eye-opening.
But you be the judge for yourself.
Best,
Paul Grabowski
P.S. According to the pastor (and maybe he’s just being paranoid but...) certain left-leaning departments of our government are actively trying to Suppress.
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Mazepa, Ivan [Мазепа, Іван], b 20 March 1639 in Mazepyntsi, near Bila Tserkva, d 2 October 1709 in Bendery, Bessarabia. Hetman of Ukraine in 1687–1709; son of Stepan-Adam Mazepa and Maryna Mazepa. He studied at the Kyivan Mohyla College and at the Jesuit college in Warsaw. While a page at the court of Jan II Casimir Vasa in Warsaw, he was sent by the king to study in Holland. In 1656–9 he learned gunnery in Deventer and visited Germany, Italy, France, and the Low Countries. After his return to Warsaw Mazepa continued his service as a royal courtier, and in 1659–63 he was sent on various diplomatic missions to Ukraine. The legend of his affair with Madame Falbowska and his subsequent punishment by being tied to the back of a wild horse was first popularized by the Polish memorialist J. C. Pasek. Although it has no basis in fact, it has inspired a number of European Romantics, including Franz Liszt, Peter Tchaikovsky, George Byron, Victor Hugo, and Aleksandr Pushkin and led to a rather fanciful image of the Ukrainian hetman as a youth. In 1663 Mazepa returned to Ukraine to help his ailing father. After his father’s death in 1665 he succeeded him as hereditary cupbearer of Chernihiv. In 1669 Mazepa entered the service of Hetman Petro Doroshenko as a squadron commander in the Hetman’s Guard, and later he served as Doroshenko’s chancellor. He took part in Doroshenko’s 1672 campaign against Poland in Galicia and served on diplomatic missions, including ones to the Crimea and Turkey (1673–4). During a mission in 1674 he was captured by the Zaporozhian otaman Ivan Sirko, who was forced to hand him over to Doroshenko’s rival in Left-Bank Ukraine, Ivan Samoilovych. Mazepa quickly gained the confidence of Samoilovych and Tsar Peter I, was made a ‘courtier of the hetman,’ and was sent on numerous missions to Moscow. Mazepa participated in the Chyhyryn campaigns, 1677–8. In 1682 he was appointed Samoilovych’s general osaul. He was elected the new hetman on 25 July 1687 by the Cossack council that deposed Samoilovych and concluded the disadvantageous Kolomak Articles with the tsar. Mazepa’s political program had become evident during his service to Petro Doroshenko and Ivan Samoilovych. He was a firm supporter of a pan-Ukrainian Hetman state, and his main goal as hetman was to unite all Ukrainian territories in a unitary state that would be modeled on existing European states but would retain the features of the traditional Cossack order. Initially Mazepa believed that the Cossack Hetman state could coexist with Muscovy on the basis of the Pereiaslav Treaty of 1654. Mazepa actively supported Muscovy’s wars with Turkey and the Crimean Khanate and sent his forces to help those of Peter I (see Russo-Turkish wars). Although the Treaty of Constantinople of 3 July 1700 did not extend Ukrainian dominion to the Black Sea, it temporarily secured Ukrainian lands from Turkish encroachment and Crimean Tatar incursions. Until 1708 Mazepa also supported Peter I in the first phase of his Great Northern War with Sweden, by providing the Muscovites with troops, munitions, money, and supplies in their effort to capture the Baltic lands. Mazepa’s participation in the war made it possible for him to take control of Right-Bank Ukraine in 1704, after Semen Palii’s Cossack revolt effectively weakened Polish authority there. Mazepa’s relations with Palii were not entirely positive, however. Mazepa did not share the Fastiv colonel’s radical social policies, and that difference gave rise to conflicts between them. Mazepa contributed to the development of Ukraine’s economy, particularly its industry. He also supported Ukrainian scholarship (history in particular) and education (the transformation of the Kyivan Mohyla College into the Kyivan Mohyla Academy, the establishment of Chernihiv College). Under his hetmancy literature flourished (see Dymytrii Tuptalo, Stefan Yavorsky, Ioan Maksymovych, Teofan Prokopovych, and Yoasaf Krokovsky). Mazepa himself wrote some verse. He was a generous patron of painting and architecture, who funded many churches built in the Cossack baroque style in Kyiv, Chernihiv, Pereiaslav, Baturyn, Pryluky, and other towns. Mazepa was also a patron of the Orthodox church outside Ukraine. He funded the publication of the New Testament in Arabic in Aleppo in 1708, and he donated an Easter shroud and a pure gold chalice for the Tomb of the Lord in Jerusalem. Although Mazepa was able to establish a new and loyal senior Cossack starshyna, he also faced considerable opposition from many members of the Cossack elite, and even open rebellion (see Petro Petryk, Vasyl Kochubei, and Ivan Iskra). Mazepa’s many attempts to secure the rights of the Cossacks as an estate (the universal of 1691), the burghers (a series of universals protecting their rights), and the peasantry (the universal of 28 November 1701 limiting corvée to two days a week) could not stem the growth of social discontent caused by endless wars, abuse of the population by Muscovite troops stationed in Ukraine, destruction, and increasing exploitation by the landowning starshyna. Mazepa’s alliance with Peter I also caused onerous responsibilities and losses to be inflicted on the population, in particular as a result of the Great Northern War and Muscovite exploitation in Ukraine. Consequently Mazepa was deprived of the popular support he needed at a critical juncture in Ukrainian history
Dorian Gray glanced at the picture, and suddenly an uncontrollable feeling of hatred for Basil Hallward came over him, as though it had been suggested to him by the image on the canvas, whispered into his ear by those grinning lips. The mad passions of a hunted animal stirred within him, and he loathed the man who was seated at the table, more than in his whole life he had ever loathed anything. He glanced wildly around. Something glimmered on the top of the painted chest that faced him. His eye fell on it. He knew what it was. It was a knife that he had brought up, some days before, to cut a piece of cord, and had forgotten to take away with him. He moved slowly towards it, passing Hallward as he did so. As soon as he got behind him, he seized it and turned round. Hallward stirred in his chair as if he was going to rise. He rushed at him and dug the knife into the great vein that is behind the ear, crushing the man’s head down on the table and stabbing again and again. There was a stifled groan and the horrible sound of some one choking with blood. Three times the outstretched arms shot up convulsively, waving grotesque, stiff-fingered hands in the air. He stabbed him twice more, but the man did not move. Something began to trickle on the floor. He waited for a moment, still pressing the head down. Then he threw the knife on the table, and listened. He could hear nothing, but the drip, drip on the threadbare carpet. He opened the door and went out on the landing. The house was absolutely quiet. No one was about. For a few seconds he stood bending over the balustrade and peering down into the black seething well of darkness. Then he took out the key and returned to the room, locking himself in as he did so. The thing was still seated in the chair, straining over the table with bowed head, and humped back, and long fantastic arms. Had it not been for the red jagged tear in the neck and the clotted black pool that was slowly widening on the table, one would have said that the man was simply asleep. How quickly it had all been done! He felt strangely calm, and walking over to the window, opened it and stepped out on the balcony. The wind had blown the fog away, and the sky was like a monstrous peacock’s tail, starred with myriads of golden eyes. He looked down and saw the policeman going his rounds and flashing the long beam of his lantern on the doors of the silent houses. The crimson spot of a prowling hansom gleamed at the corner and then vanished. A woman in a fluttering shawl was creeping slowly by the railings, staggering as she went. Now and then she stopped and peered back. Once, she began to sing in a hoarse voice. The policeman strolled over and said something to her. She stumbled away, laughing. A bitter blast swept across the square. The gas-lamps flickered and became blue, and the leafless trees shook their black iron branches to and fro. He shivered and went back, closing the window behind him.
Dorian Gray glanced at the picture, and suddenly an uncontrollable feeling of hatred for Basil Hallward came over him, as though it had been suggested to him by the image on the canvas, whispered into his ear by those grinning lips. The mad passions of a hunted animal stirred within him, and he loathed the man who was seated at the table, more than in his whole life he had ever loathed anything. He glanced wildly around. Something glimmered on the top of the painted chest that faced him. His eye fell on it. He knew what it was. It was a knife that he had brought up, some days before, to cut a piece of cord, and had forgotten to take away with him. He moved slowly towards it, passing Hallward as he did so. As soon as he got behind him, he seized it and turned round. Hallward stirred in his chair as if he was going to rise. He rushed at him and dug the knife into the great vein that is behind the ear, crushing the man’s head down on the table and stabbing again and again. There was a stifled groan and the horrible sound of some one choking with blood. Three times the outstretched arms shot up convulsively, waving grotesque, stiff-fingered hands in the air. He stabbed him twice more, but the man did not move. Something began to trickle on the floor. He waited for a moment, still pressing the head down. Then he threw the knife on the table, and listened. He could hear nothing, but the drip, drip on the threadbare carpet. He opened the door and went out on the landing. The house was absolutely quiet. No one was about. For a few seconds he stood bending over the balustrade and peering down into the black seething well of darkness. Then he took out the key and returned to the room, locking himself in as he did so. The thing was still seated in the chair, straining over the table with bowed head, and humped back, and long fantastic arms. Had it not been for the red jagged tear in the neck and the clotted black pool that was slowly widening on the table, one would have said that the man was simply asleep. How quickly it had all been done! He felt strangely calm, and walking over to the window, opened it and stepped out on the balcony. The wind had blown the fog away, and the sky was like a monstrous peacock’s tail, starred with myriads of golden eyes. He looked down and saw the policeman going his rounds and flashing the long beam of his lantern on the doors of the silent houses. The crimson spot of a prowling hansom gleamed at the corner and then vanished. A woman in a fluttering shawl was creeping slowly by the railings, staggering as she went. Now and then she stopped and peered back. Once, she began to sing in a hoarse voice. The policeman strolled over and said something to her. She stumbled away, laughing. A bitter blast swept across the square. The gas-lamps flickered and became blue, and the leafless trees shook their black iron branches to and fro. He shivered and went back, closing the window behind him.
