A decision to stay in Lebanon and work to build trust instead of travelling abroad during her holidays gave Wadiaa Khoury deep rewards.
On a Sunday morning in mid-August, I was asked to translate the sermon during mass, standing between my parish priest and a Swiss priest visiting us in the Christian town of Zahle. Even on his fourth visit to Lebanon, this priest continues to be amazed at how vibrant the Lebanese church is. Five years ago, he wasn’t even aware of the existence of Christians in the Arab countries! This time, he participated in a weekend organized by Capuchin friars to promote a culture of peace and dialogue among Christian and Muslim Lebanese students. The most distinctive session was led by a young Muslim who recently completed her doctorate in religious studies … in the Vatican!
That same Sunday afternoon, I was invited to an Iftar (the Muslim breaking of the fast), 40 Kilometres away, in the Shi’a majority town of Baalbeck. It wasn’t long before I realized I was the only unveiled woman among 500 guests. It was a very pleasant evening chatting with so many Muslims and building on decisions I had taken during a recent summer camp hosting both Lebanese and Iraqi children from all different religious confessions. The main speaker, a 40 year old Sheikh, had both his children taking part in the camp.
That was for me indeed a very interesting day and summer. Some months back, a Lebanese friend had challenged me not to travel abroad during my vacation, but rather to stay in Lebanon and help organize and run the summer multi-confessional and multinational camps. ‘You will touch the real Lebanese paradise’ he had said. It was a hard decision. Since 1997, only wars and exams had stopped me from travelling.
In fact, Lebanon’s many blessings of freedom and religious tolerance are also a source of great responsibility for every Lebanese. Fleeing can be often the easiest choice. Surrounding our little ‘piece of paradise on earth’ – the words of a Lebanese poet – there is more and more struggle and darkness.
I recall my Christmas experience in Baghdad as an example of the tragic lack of trust in the conflict-ridden Middle East, and the reason behind the decision to hold the afore-mentioned summer camps in Lebanon:
After the massacre on October 30 by five suicide bombers inside the church of Our Lady in Karrada, Baghdad, Christians in the Middle East feared more than ever for the future of their existence. The horror of that attack, which killed 53 parishioners and wounded 130 others, made thousands of Christian Baghdadis leave the country, or at least the city. The two priests serving the parish were the first to be slaughtered, and ‘when the shepherds are killed, the sheep are scattered’.
Many Lebanese wanted to offer their support to this martyred parish. But among the many who expressed a willingness to go to Baghdad on Christmas Eve, only six made it. It happened, providentially, that each of us was from a different religious confession, three women and three men, three Muslims and three Christians.
There was very little we could say to the people we met. Each had lost a family member or more. All had lost every sense of security. But while our words were silenced, a lot was being said through the composition of our group.
On our arrival in Baghdad, we were directly taken from the airport, in armored vehicles, to the Archbishop’s place near the church. The convoy changed route several times as we were accompanied by an official who had endured a second assassination attempt a couple of months previously. Among the numerous high concrete blocks it was hard to make out the entrance to the church.
Just a few minutes after meeting the Bishop and the two new priests who had curtailed studies in Rome to replace those murdered in the parish, a 60-year-old man arrived, shaking and horrified. He immediately handed a paper to the Bishop who, in turn, made two phone calls before handing the same paper to the lawyer heading our group. On the paper, were two lines written in Arabic: ‘To the Christian non-believer Yacub Yussef Yacub, it was decided to allow you a period of 48 hours to leave Baghdad with your family; otherwise you’ll all be killed’. Signed: Abu Zurr al Anbari.
When we first entered the church, we were stunned to find not only traces of bullets and grenades visible everywhere, but also to see blood stains on the walls and the bits of burnt human flesh on the roof – the remains of the suicide bombers.
If any of us were tempted to express any kind of fury or accusation, the tiny voice of one of our group members shut it completely. She humbly dropped to her knees, and with absolute spontaneity started crying, saying: ‘God, forgive my sins’. This person, whom I had first met just the day before, now pointed me to face my only real enemy: my inner darkness of fear, arrogance, self-righteousness and hatred.
The aim of our summer camps is to invite every child to make this same inner pilgrimage, in order to be able to reach out. Every night before sleep, we would stand in a big circle and pray, each in his own way, in his own faith. We prayed for ourselves, for our countries. We prayed for each other and for each other’s countries. We prayed for all those who lack security and peace. Then we prayed for Japan and Norway. Here, we don’t solve religious differences by ignoring our faiths, but by living the core of faith. And it works!
Now, with a similar lack of trust and security lived throughout all the troubled countries of the Middle East, and with all the uncertainty regarding the future of the religious minorities, can this tiny Lebanese candle light spread out to the region around, or will the surrounding darkness impose itself on us? In my own experience, even a huge darkness doesn’t spread: only a small candle light has this great potential.
Wadiaa Khoury was born in Zahle, Lebanon. She studied educational sciences at Saint-Joseph University in Beirut before taking part in Action for Life, a 10 month IofC leadership training programme in Asia. Since then, she has worked as the Community Service Coordinator at the International College in Beirut. While working, she has continued her studies, completing a Bachelor’s in Law and a Master’s in Public Law. She has a keen interest in building trust across the world's divides, particularly for religious and cultural dialogue. Wadiaa enjoys taking long drives to reflect on life, the quiet solitude of walking in nature and working and having conversations deep into the night.
NOTE: Individuals of many cultures, nationalities, religions, and beliefs are actively involved with Initiatives of Change. These commentaries represent the views of the writer and not necessarily those of Initiatives of Change as a whole.
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