Communities in Areas of Conflict

Meditation

The Editorial Team

Peace in the Rule of St. Benedict

From the prologue onwards, St Benedict invites us to listen to the Word of God with the ear of our hearts and to conform ourselves to it. He echoes the words of Psalm 33: “Seek peace and pursue it”. For him, peace is first and foremost an interior process: it is a matter of purifying one’s heart of anger, pride and rivalry, that is, of any desire for power over others and over events. Without this personal conversion, no lasting peace is possible between human beings.

In this, St Benedict follows the great monastic tradition that aims at peace of heart, as John Cassian so aptly described it, in order to become one with God in love. This hesychia, so sought after by monks, was at the origin of a movement known as Hesychasm, which is still very much alive on Mount Athos, for example, but also in many other places. By practising the tools of the spiritual art on a daily basis, monks are able to channel their human passions positively and live by listening to their innermost hearts. Thus, according to the Prologue to the Rule, they can run with an expanded heart on the path of God’s commandments, which can be summed up by the commandment of Love.

It is through this spiritual work that monks and nuns participate in the transformation of the world and offer, in a sense, an alternative way of life that is not based on worldly interests but on the spirit of the Kingdom, according to the Beatitudes.

In the daily life of a monastic community, peace is experienced in very concrete ways. Silence, often recommended in the Rule, is not simply a duty to be fulfilled, but is essentially a work of inner readiness for peace, even if the art of singing is often a source of tension! Humility is likewise an essential foundation. Those who are humble accept their limitations, respect others and thus contribute to common harmony. Obedience, lived in a spirit of faith and fraternity, is another path to peace. It teaches each person to renounce self-ownership in order to join with others in listening to God’s will and putting it into practice.

Peace also depends greatly on the role of the abbot, whom St Benedict compares to a father. His mission is to guide gently, correct without harshness, and maintain unity among the brothers. Justice in the distribution of goods, attention to the needs of each individual, and communal prayer that brings the whole community together are all means of building harmony.

This peace experienced within the monastery does not remain confined within its walls. Over the centuries, Benedictine monasteries have been places of welcome, refuge and reconciliation. By cultivating peace among themselves, the monks become witnesses to the outside world. Even today, in a world torn by divisions and violence, the Rule of St Benedict remains surprisingly relevant: it reminds us that true peace is born first in the heart and is built patiently, day after day, through listening, humility and charity.

Thus, the Rule of St Benedict invites us to understand that peace is both a gift from God and a human responsibility. It is a spiritual path that engages the whole person and, when lived faithfully, becomes a source of light and hope for the community and for the world.

Meditation

Dom Maksymilian R. Nawara, OSB

President of the Congregation of the Annunciation

“Peace I leave you, my peace I give you.”

(John 14:27)

“Peace I leave you, my own peace I give you.

A peace the world cannot give you.

Do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid!”

(Jn 14:27)

The question of peace

Many of us who live in countries affected by war – and there are more and more of them today – are faced with a difficult but fundamental question: What should I do?

What should a monk, a nun, a priest or a superior do in times of war, suffering, loss and violence, when the nightmare shows no sign of ending? What should we do when everything seems to conspire to prolong the war?

We continually respond to the needs of those who suffer. In many places, brothers and sisters strive heroically, for long periods of time, not to abandon those who live alongside them or who come to them in need. Yet we too feel fear and anxiety, and sometimes we lose hope. And the question keeps coming back: what must we do to build peace? Where must we look for it? Lord, what should I do?

Often, the only way of salvation lies in silent prayer, which soothes an exhausted heart. The words of the Gospel according to Saint John lead us to a deeper understanding of peace – a peace that is always given to us, even when war rages outside:

“Peace I leave to you, my own peace I give you. A peace the world cannot give you. Do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid.” (Jn 14:27)

The world of war and peace

Looking at human history – from Cain and Abel to the present day – it is easy to conclude that peace is merely an interval between wars. A truce that lasts as long as the victor can impose his power and the vanquished lacks the strength to rebel.

Despite advances in technology, psychology and humanism, the world still does not experience more peace and seems incapable of achieving lasting peace.

But Jesus offers a different kind of peace. It is not the indifference of a stoic who remains impassive even when the world is falling apart around him. Nor is it pax perniciosa – the ‘destructive peace’ of a person trapped in their own selfishness or that of others, seeking only their own ‘inner peace.

This idea of peace – equating it with well-being or a comfort zone – leads to an illusion. By defending its territory, the ego can start new wars, big or small, to keep what it thinks is its own.

The gift of peace

The peace of Jesus springs from a love stronger than death. It is the peace of the Crucified and Risen One, who makes us ‘fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God’ (Eph 2:14-19).

It is the gift of his presence, the fullness of every blessing. When Jesus leaves us, he does not leave a void, but a peace that is independent of external circumstances. ‘Let not your hearts be troubled or afraid!’ Bishop Mikołaj Łuczok, bishop of a Ukrainian diocese, said at a prayer meeting for peace in Krakow:

“The Holy Spirit constantly reminds me that, above all else, I must be deeply immersed in the peace of Jesus Christ. This is my first responsibility. And when I remain in His peace, then I will see more clearly who and how I should help. For if the peace of Christ is lacking in my heart, fear will guide me. Without peace, fear is present. Fear arises from a wounded heart. Initially, it leads to isolation and survival. But if the heart is not healed, as soon as the opportunity arises to break out of isolation, it can lead to hurting others and become a source of war.”

This is a fine commentary on the words of the Gospel: Jesus gives us peace so that our hearts may not be afraid.

Conclusion

Human selfishness may never allow total peace to reign in the world. But peace of heart is possible. Peace is accessible to those who are ready to accept it. Communities of peace do exist. Jesus calls us to this peace. And it is this peace that he wants to give us.

Meditation

Fr. Alex Echeandía, OSB,

Monastery of Lurín (Peru)

The mosaic in the apse of the basilica of St Clement in Rome

The Basilica of St Clement in Rome houses an impressive mosaic in its apse called the ‘Triumph of the Cross’, dating from the 12th century. This mosaic, believed to have been created by Jacopo Torriti and his team, transforms the cross into a symbol of life, peace and salvation, surrounded by elements representing eternity and divine protection.

History and reconstruction: The basilica was founded in the 5th century on Roman ruins, but was partially destroyed in the 13th century and then rebuilt, giving it its current appearance.

Symbolism: The cross is surrounded by laurel leaves and spiral vines symbolising salvation, peace, eternal life and the blood of Christ, represented by wine.

Details: Among the vines are human figures, animals and biblical symbols representing the universality of salvation, with elements such as the four evangelists, the Lamb of God, Saints Peter and Paul, as well as the heavenly Jerusalem, the eternal city where peace is always given.

In essence, this mosaic is a powerful symbol of peace, a beacon of hope in the face of the omnipresent violence and terror that plague our world. Peace, personified by the Cross of Christ, Prince of Peace, is the ultimate source of redemption. The cross, the central element of all creation, embodies the universal act of redemption wrought by Christ, the triumphant Giver of Peace.

Witness

The nuns of Sorá, OCSO (Panama)

ex-Juigalpa – Nicaragua

The monastery of Santa Maria de la Paz:

from Nicaragua to Panama

Peace in Him…

We would like to share with you a little of the story of our deliverance, which you may have heard about. By chance, the refusal to allow an Argentine priest, who had come as a temporary chaplain, to enter the country put us on our guard. Members of the Episcopal Conference alerted us to our situation with regard to the Nicaraguan government. The fact that we had welcomed people into our guest house who then posted comments hostile to the government on social media, led to us being classified as opponents by the government. They also informed us that if we left the country, we would not be able to return... and that anyone coming to visit us from abroad would not be allowed to enter. Given all these factors, they advised us, for our own good, to leave the country.

So, in the space of two weeks, we had to decide what to take with us and how to distribute the monastery’s belongings. We did not want to forget our dear workers and their families. It was heartbreaking, because we had been in Nicaragua for twenty-two years and already had a life and a history among this people who have been suffering for so long.

When our Abbot General and the Generalate learned what we were going through, we were deeply touched by the grace of belonging to an Order that puts the Charter of Charity into practice, with its spiritual and material support, for which we are very grateful!A few months before our departure, we conducted a community discernment – on the advice of our Father Immediate, Father Paul Mark Schwan (New Clairvaux, Vina, USA), and Mother Maria Marcenaro, Abbess of our Mother House (Hinojo, Argentina) – to reflect on how to proceed in the event of expulsion, to ‘listen’ to what the Lord was saying to us on this matter. We finally decided to go to Panama. While we were still in Nicaragua, we were able to contact the Archbishop of Panama, José Domingo Ulloa, who had been very friendly towards us since our arrival. We were welcomed by the Discalced Carmelite brothers, who showed us exceptional generosity from the very beginning. We felt deeply surrounded by God’s love through the love of our brothers and sisters in Panama. After nine months in the heart of the city, we were able to move into a large house that we converted into a small monastery. We are located 90 km from Panama City, in the town of Sorá, where the land for the future monastery is also located.

We are all aware of the Lord’s call to continue to be, through his mercy, a sign of God’s presence among these peoples of Central America, and we want to respond to it with great generosity despite our physical and spiritual weaknesses. We are living here, waiting for preparations to begin so that a new monastery can flourish on Panamanian soil.

We ask you to continue to pray for us so that we may fully adhere to the Lord’s will. May we offer God’s peace from the depths of our hearts to our brothers and sisters, as a monastic community, the community of Santa Maria de la Paz.

Witness

Dom Bernard Oberlin, OCSO

aAbbey of Mokoto (DRC)

The abbey of Mokoto (DRC)

In 2023, members of the M23 arrived in our hills. From 23 January onwards, villagers accused by their neighbours of being accomplices of the attackers felt threatened and took refuge in the monastery. On 6 February, armed men arrived and took these refugees to safety in the town of Kitshanga, 20 km from the monastery.

But the rest of the villagers felt unsafe and took refuge with us: more than 800 people! The number increased day by day. We fed the first arrivals, but the number of refugees became too great. This led to accusations that ‘the monks are siding with the M23’. It was a difficult situation!

However, our maize harvest was very good and we were able to help all these people for a while... Around May-June, the number of displaced persons increased alarmingly: there were 14,000 displaced persons in our pastures. They built huts. We had to organise them into neighbourhoods, build water points and pipes, and increase the number of latrines. In October, there were 30,000 of them, and there were cases of dysentery and cholera. The NGOs Concern and Caritas finally arrived. For our part, we gave work to the displaced persons. Continuous handouts would have turned them into welfare recipients. We had a project to build terraced fields. Hundreds of people worked on it and received their wages. In Mokoto, everything is on a slope.

To buy food in Kitshanga, one faces insecurity on the road (the Nyatura rebels stop, extort, steal, rape and kill). The little shop at the gate no longer sells just cheese and guava wine, but also bags of rice, cassava flour, sugar, etc.

From the point of view of monastic life, this has been a good opportunity to put charity into practice. At first, we even had to house people in the church. But the camp also means bars, restaurants, shouting and music, and all the temptations of the city. The monks are not yet saints!

A year later, on 23 January 2024, the M23, finding it easier to monitor a village than to control a camp, drove out all the refugees by force. A number of them, coming from combat zones, are trying to find accommodation in the surrounding villages. Many mothers are without husbands; they are looking for work or begging to feed their children.

Hence the success of our latest initiative: since our herd of cows has been greatly reduced, part of the pastureland is being rented out to anyone who wants to farm it: £10 for 900m² for a year. This is not possible for everyone, so we still have to give alms.

There are 35 brothers, and the Abbot General and the Father Immediate suggested that we look for an annex and a lorry so that we can flee if necessary, as we did in 1996. The lorry has been purchased, but not yet the annex: Tanzania? Zambia? Above all, we pray every day for peace. Daily and monastic life continues. As Father Victor wrote in 1996, after a very violent and armed night-time visit from bandits: ‘I slept well, and this morning I am explaining the texts of Pseudo-Macarius to the novices.’

Witness

Father Peter Eghwrudjakpor, OSB

Prior of Ewu-Ishan (Nigeria)

Living within the Culture of Violence,

The Nigerian Experience

Nigeria is not really a country of violence. In its diversity of people, culture and religion, life is always held as sacred by all, and blood is very sacred; strangers are welcomed with open arms. People are not afraid to move to distant, strange and unfamiliar territories because of a common belief that strangers must always be welcome and must be protected at all costs. Thus, everywhere is like home. Respect for human life and the protection of strangers are inscribed in the heart and safeguarded by the belief in the natural law of nemesis and retribution. However, today, Nigeria has a generation of people who are even prepared to dare the gods of our land, not just our ancestral spirits. While it is true to say that Nigeria is not a country of violence, it is also true that Nigeria has some really violent and indeed blood-thirsty people and groups. As a result, wherever you find yourself, you must learn to be alert and vigilant, because the men of violence, small as they are numerically, are truly vicious and quite unpredictable. Unfortunately, this is usually attributed to religion, Islam is the common scapegoat, rightly or wrongly. The culture of dread of Muslims existed, but now a culture of hatred of Muslims is beginning to grow, still due to wide-spread violence. There are terror groups which identify themselves as Islamists, but this is still not enough reason to generalise, nor demonise Islam. There are many good Muslims. Occasionally, those who perpetrated violence and brutal killings appear to be animist, ‘juju’ worshipers who are into diabolic rituals for which they need human blood. There are also cases of persons caught in the kidnapping business who claim to be Christians. Often, they are people driven by greed. Thus, no one religious group is free from the present culture of violence and killing, though widespread, full-scale terrorism is officially claimed by Islamic extremist groups: The ‘Boko-Haram’ and ‘IS-WAP’ sects.

Politics and greed both have an equal share in responsibility for Nigerian violence. Most Nigerians dread election times; the atmosphere is often similar to that of a full-blown civil war! Politics in Nigeria can be extremely bloody, and some Nigerian politicians are not ashamed to act ruthlessly and in a violent way just for power. Hence, it is fair to say that violence in Nigeria is first a thing of the heart, springing from greed and self-centredness, even before religion is dragged in. It starts from a heart soaked in greed, then embellished with fraud and corruption. The real violence can be viewed as mere clothing for institutionalized crimes, at times sponsored and protected by the ruling elites. This is our true problem: selfishness, greed and lies. These are the deep roots of the Nigerian violence. For politicians and senior government officials it is simply a game of power and control, money and wealth. Life is devalued for these reasons; petty gains, selfish advantages over one’s rivals. This is also the reason why one never finds the perpetrators of these violent killings brought to the law courts. One never finds them punished or imprisoned. No, no. For instance, members of the Boko-Haram terrorist group are sometimes arrested, but soon afterwards they are freed. Why? They are called ‘Government Children’. True, the Nigerian military often go on missions to raid these terrorist camps, at great expense and risk to their own lives. However, those arrested are sooner or later released and set free! This is how ridiculous the government can be!

Terror Groups

One can easily identify three major terror groups in Nigeria. The most well-known is the Boko-Haram and now joined by IS-WAP (Islamic State - West African Province). These two groups claim to be fighting the Islamic war, jihad. They are very vicious and brutal in their offensives. They have the force of numbers and heavy weapons just like a regular army; they do not usually go for small gain but really big campaigns. Their operations are usually targeted at towns, villages, institutions, military barracks and major motor ways, as well as territories reputed to be rich in rare minerals as in the Nigerian North-East. Generally, it is strongly believed that these terrorist groups have collaborators and sponsors in the Nigerian government, one reason they continue to exist and thrive. They are also used by politicians to create political instability in certain regions and hit at their rivals.

There are two other terror groups. These are not as formidable and organized as the Boko-Haram and IS-WAP, but very vicious nonetheless. They are more wide-spread in the country, existing in pockets almost anywhere. They are the Fulani herdsmen and the Kidnappers.

The Fulani Herdsmen

The Fulani is a nomadic tribe; they go about with their cattle in their hundreds, grazing as they go along. They have colonies all over the Sahel region of West Africa. They appear to be Muslims, and look like Arabs from the Sahara. More importantly, they roam in the bush and forest with their animals. Traditionally, they are not violent but peaceful; each Fulani man carries a short knife (‘Daga’) mainly to protect or rescue their animals from trouble. Today, people are scared and suspicious of them because of their association with so much violence and brutal killings. It is believed that the traditional Fulanis have been infiltrated by immigrant sects from across the Nigerian boarders. It is also believed that these killer sects have been brought in originally by politicians, with an Islamic agenda. These infiltrators/mercenaries are ruthless, bloody and terrifying. Unfortunately, it is hard to differentiate one from the other. By the time one realizes that the group in his/her front yard is one of the vicious sects, it is usually too late. They have no regard for people’s farms and crops. They lead their animals in their hundreds into people’s farms to munch away their crops. Any attempt to stop them from doing this could be costly and even fatal. They kill, they rape, and are also involved in the business of kidnapping and trading people for money. Today, because of this group, the forests and farmlands are no longer safe places, one reason agriculture products have become very costly. Several BECAN communities have abandoned their farm lands due to repeated attacks and destruction of crops by these sects. Last year, we obtained nothing from one of our farmlands at Ewu because these herdsmen brought in their cattle in their hundreds, overran our farmland and ate up the entire maize, casava and yam we had planted. Thank God this year is different, so far. Many monasteries suffer the same; all our monasteries are agrarian. While walling monastery properties is one of the best ways to ward off these intruders and their animals, it is not always easily practicable.

Nationwide Kidnappings

A third group are simply called the ‘Kidnappers’. Kidnapping is a new reigning business. The kidnappers are always well armed. They are not just one group but pockets of little groups scattered all over the country with a similar aim - money. It is big business and a source of livelihood for some. These men sometimes go to the highways, mount roadblocks in order to capture their innocent, unsuspecting victims. They also conduct raids. Churches, parish houses, religious institutions, religious communities and monasteries have been raided; priests as well as religious men and women have been kidnapped. The kidnappers usually request huge sums of money to be paid as ransoms in order to release their victims. Until this ransom is paid the victims are brutally tortured in order to put pressure on their loved ones not to delay payment. Victims are sometimes killed if the ransom is not paid in time. There are many cases where victims have been killed even after the ransom has been paid. One cannot predict where or when the kidnappers may appear, or when they might strike. Several monasteries of the BECAN family have been attacked at different times and nuns as well as monks taken into captivity. A young monk was killed in one such attack.

Since the Fulanis are natural forest experts, they are believed to have a larger share in this business. Naturally, this has led to a culture of hate, dread and physical violence in addition to distrust of Muslims and people from the North in general, by Christians. While it may not be wise to let down our guards completely at any time, we must not cease to go forward with open arms to reach out and be willing to embrace the other. The Gospel does not give us any other option. St Benedict in the Rule is also clear about this: ‘Let all guests who arrive be received as Christ’- RB 53. True, there are people with evil intent, but they still remain a small minority. We must guard against generalisation, and not forget the Gospel phrase, ‘For whoever wants to save his life will lose it’- Matt 16:25. Again, among the instruments of good works St Benedict mentioned, ‘to keep death before one’s eyes daily’- RB 4:47. We should not fail in charity out of the fear of death.

Side by Side with Muslims

At least three of the BECAN communities, including St Benedict Ewu, are located within Muslim communities. The Benedictine nuns at Ochaja-Idah, and the brothers at Eruku-Ilorin are the worst hit so far, both by the Fulani herdsmen and the kidnappers. Today, both communities still endure many difficulties and much hardship to survive. The brothers travel long distances in order to find safe lands to grow their crops and keep them from the herdsmen and their flocks, since agriculture is their mainstay. Meanwhile, the Benedictine sisters at Ochaja-Idah would not chase away Muslim families who lodge in their property. It was a fascinating and at the same time incredible sight to see Muslim women coming to the nuns, requesting water and other items they needed for cooking, while the nuns were held hostage, and being tortured by kidnappers who were believed to be Islamists. What could be more Christian and more Benedictine? The brothers at Eruku-Ilorin for a long time maintained a good rapport with the Muslim communities all around them before the violent attack and kidnap of several of the monks, which also led to the death of one of their brothers. The brutal attack did not make them break their relationship with the Muslims. They have now literally abandoned the monastery, since the danger to both their lives and their crops is now more than they can manage. Even the police told them that there is nothing they can do; these men of violence have federal protection, they are ‘untouchable’. Meanwhile, the monks continue in their relationship with these Muslims.

Our community at Ewu has traditionally always been a meeting ground for all. Here, Christians, Muslims and Animists pray, work, relate and do things together without any discrimination. True, it is hard to keep this going in the current state of affairs, but we go on with it nonetheless, as brothers and sisters, one family. It is risky, but it is still working. When our problem with water was at its peak, it was the Muslim king-ruler, the Onojie, who came up with a lasting solution to deal with our water problem. He offered us the very stream which is his heritage, his and his clan people, for the monastery to construct a new dam for its water supply. All for free. To avoid any future trouble, he also made an official document, signed and put his seal on it. Today, this is one of the main sources of the monastery water supply. We should not be naïve, but we should also not be afraid since fear is the opposite of charity (Cf. 1Jn. 4:18).

Witness

The nuns of the Monastery of the Emmanuel, OSB

Bethlehem (Israel)

The Monastery of the Emmanuel, Bethlehem:

A monastery at the foot of the wall

Located on one of the hills surrounding Bethlehem, our Monastery of the Emmanuel is a member of the Benedictine Congregation of the Queen of Apostles, affiliated with the Congregation of the Annunciation. With a missionary spirit, the vocation of our Congregation is to spread monastic life and establish Benedictine life where it does not yet exist or no longer exists. Our Congregation is now present in Belgium, Portugal, Brazil, Congo, Angola and Chad, as well as in the Holy Land.

The three founding sisters of our monastery began in Algeria, at the Benedictine monastery of Médéa, a few kilometres from Tibhirine. In 1954, a Greek Catholic bishop from Galilee came to them and asked them to found a Greek Catholic monastery in the Holy Land. Indeed, there are many Greek Catholic faithful there, but currently there are only two monasteries of this rite.

Our sisters, who pray in Arabic and are familiar with the Muslim world, were able to take on this challenge more easily. The Greek Catholic Church is a bridge between the Latin Church and the Orthodox Church, since we pray like the Orthodox while being part of the Catholic Church. The community was, therefore, given a dual mission: to help revive the traditions of the undivided Church within the Catholic Church and to be a centre of prayer for Christian unity.

Since March 2003, the ‘security barrier’ wall separating Bethlehem from Jerusalem has stood in front of the monastery entrance. We are 200 metres from one of the three crossing points in the region between Palestine and Israel, and 500 metres from Rachel’s Tomb, a particularly contentious site in the Holy Land.

Bethlehem has always been linked to Jerusalem, first and foremost from a spiritual point of view, as it is the birthplace of Christ, who died and rose again in Jerusalem, and therefore, a privileged place of pilgrimage for all those who choose to follow in the footsteps of Jesus. It is also connected from a geographical point of view (barely 10 kilometres separate them), historically of course, and economically – Bethlehem has no significant industrial infrastructure capable of generating employment.

The construction of a wall between these two localities has caused a very violent separation. Many Palestinians from Bethlehem had regular jobs in the Jerusalem area: teachers in Christian institutions, doctors, construction workers. Most of them lost their jobs and have not been able to find new ones since. Since the massacres of 7 October 2023, the border between Jerusalem and Bethlehem has been closed very regularly and often opens randomly. For a resident of Bethlehem, travelling to Jerusalem is an obstacle course. Although the two cities are so close, the wall has become impassable without a permit: you must have an invitation from the other side of the wall, register your fingerprints and undergo facial recognition, as well as paying a fee. Permits are only issued in exceptional cases or to members of the same family, to the detriment of others. They are given for a specific location and for a certain number of hours. It is rarely permitted to spend the night ‘outside’ the security barrier. One must regularly check in on an app to report one’s location until returning to Bethlehem.

All these administrative complications discourage many who have an existential need to communicate with Jerusalem, separating families and making it almost impossible to receive certain medical treatments that are not available in Bethlehem. Many young people from Bethlehem have never been to Jerusalem. The consequences of this long-term confinement are extremely difficult for many and prevent the healthy development of human activity by making the future increasingly uncertain.

Today, the Bethlehem metropolitan area, which also includes the villages of Bet Jala and Bet Sahour – where the ‘Shepherds’ Field’ is located, once almost entirely Christian, is now composed of equal numbers of Christians and Muslims. However, many Christian families, seeing no future in the current context, are choosing to emigrate. This emigration began after the second Intifada in the 2000s and has continued to increase until now. Forty Christian families from Bethlehem itself have emigrated since 7 October.

In this dramatic context, what can the message of the angels at the birth of Jesus mean: ‘Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to those on whom his favour rests’ (Lk 2:14)? And how can we carry it with strength in our hearts?

Firstly, we often find ourselves learning from the courage and resilience of those around us. Many wonderful initiatives of solidarity have been set up. As members of a religious community, we are able to cross the checkpoint. This is often an opportunity to receive help from other communities or from Israeli friends who are eager to share what they have to support the people of Bethlehem. For our part, in our own small way, we try to help those who knock on our door. We support the school fees of several families. When young people are able to study, they regain a little hope for the future. We admire their resilience. A young girl from Bethlehem, whose family was very disadvantaged, completed her studies in psychology at Oxford University! She has since returned to Bethlehem and opened a centre which, despite the obstacles to development linked to the situation, is doing a lot of good. During the second Intifada, the monastery was a place of refuge for several families from the city centre who were endangered by the fighting.

For others, it is a matter of supporting basic needs. There is no universal social security in Palestine, so although medical costs are low, some can be impossible to pay. We also give out food baskets.

It is only a drop in the ocean, given our small numbers. Our vow of stability sometimes becomes, humanly speaking, an experience of powerlessness and heartbreak. A few kilometres away from us, in Gaza, a human tragedy is unfolding on a daily basis. We hope that our prayer and sharing speak where words fail, ‘being with’ in an ardent plea for peace and also in the painful upheavals of this land. Yes, there are so many difficulties in living in this place, and yet it is worth it! However torn this land may be, it still draws us here. For it, we can leave everything behind. How much more do those around us who live here have the grace to live in these places.

As Bethlehem has been a closed territory for years, no expansion is possible outside its boundaries. Land is therefore scarce and is mainly reserved for construction and housing. While on the one hand we are literally up against a wall, on the other, our monastery faces the entire Jordan Valley, a beautiful and unspoilt landscape that allows us to experience a little of the spirituality of the Desert Fathers who lived in these valleys. Its garden, which stretches along one of the hillsides and flourishes in winter, has become one of the only green spaces in Bethlehem over the years.

For those who come here, the place often gives an opportunity for deep renewal or rest from fatigue, from the chaos of the city and refugee camps.

Our Byzantine prayer, sung in Arabic as well as French, is also a strong bond with the locals. Firstly, because it has always been their tradition, and also because, through its depth and its rhythmic and repetitive chants, it draws us into the profound reality of Christ’s promise, even though it is veiled from our eyes: ‘And I am with you always, even unto the end of the world!’ (Mt 28:20). It is the empty tomb which, through its emptiness, gives meaning to history, and also to our little story behind this wall. The liturgy powerfully echoes this kerygma, like a living spring that nothing can stop, and keeps us believing when sometimes we no longer have the strength to believe. These are words, rhythms and songs used by generations of saints and worshippers before us – some texts date back to the origins of the Church – which remind us that we are in this world, with this world, but not for this world, and that the day will come when ‘He will wipe away every tear from our eyes’ (Rev 21:4).

On the dividing wall, with our iconography teacher, we have written an icon of the Virgin Mary, ‘Our Lady who breaks down walls’. We pray to her every time we face her, that is, every time we leave our monastery. Every Friday evening, together with the brothers from Bethlehem University and a few locals, we recite the rosary along the wall until it falls. This is our humble response of faith to the suffering of being closed in. We ask God to add to our prayers the power that comes from Him so that this no-man’s-land between Jerusalem and Bethlehem may become a place of prayer, of beauty, a place where God comforts men and women and shows His presence.

In its deeply penitential poetry, the Byzantine liturgy refocuses us on the real battle, the real enemy against whom we implore God for victory: «Give me, Lord, thoughts of repentance, give also feelings of contrition to my poor soul; awaken me from my sleep, change my hardened heart and drive away the darkness from my laziness, dispel the darkness of despair, O Word, so that I may henceforth attach myself to you and walk according to your will ‘ (Monday Vespers, vol. 2); or ’Help me, deliver me from those who wage war against me, and make me an heir to eternal life» (Hymn to the Virgin). This liturgical ‘I’, full of repentance, does not speak only for ourselves, but is a supplication on behalf of all those who live on earth and ‘in the turmoil of this world’, a soul imploring mercy and peace for itself and for the whole world.

One of the keys to this peace is undoubtedly pilgrimages. Bethlehem has always been kept alive thanks to pilgrims, who can pass through the checkpoint without difficulty. It is important that pilgrimages start again, even in small groups. By passing from one side to the other, pilgrims bring life and hope. The organisation of pilgrimages is often an opportunity for fraternal collaboration between Israeli and Palestinian organisations and guides, and, therefore, a strong message of hope. This is also our message: Pilgrims, come back!

When will this peace come? We can paraphrase Patriarch Athenagoras’ prayer for Christian unity: ‘It will be a new miracle in history. When? We must prepare for it. For a miracle is like God: always imminent.’

Thus, our witness is essentially one of presence and trust on a fault line of humanity, and hospitality has always been an important dimension of our vocation. Perpetuating praise through divine worship, even when our backs are against the wall, encouraging a Christian presence and exchange between East and West are very important to us. This presence is, in its own small way, the basis for a diverse Middle East where the key to unity is not violence but conviviality.

Prayer to Our Lady

who brings down walls

We pray to you as mother of the Church,

mother of all Christians who suffer.

We beg you, through your ardent intercession,

to bring down this wall,

the walls of our hearts, and all the walls that generate

hatred, violence, fear, and indifference

between people and between nations.

You who crushed the ancient Serpent by your Fiat,

gather and unite us under your virginal cloak,

protect us from all evil

and open forever in our lives the gate of Hope.

Bring to birth in us and in our world the civilization of Love

that sprang forth from the Cross and Resurrection

of your divine Son,

our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ,

who lives and reigns forever. Amen.

Witness

Mother Marta Luisa Fagnani, OCSO

Superior of the Monastery of Fons Pacis (Syria)

Monastery of Fons Pacis:

Peace in Insecurity and Uncertainty

Syria is currently experiencing a period of great instability. No one feels truly safe, and uncertainty permeates all segments of society. Under these conditions, the exodus of Syrians continues unabated, with no distinction between Christians and Muslims, whether Alawites or Sunnis. Young people, and not only them, feel that they have no future, no reasonable prospects for their lives. Not to mention the actual episodes of violence that occur day after day. In this context, our daily life continues and, in a way, its meaning is simplified, reinforced by the sense of monastic stability to which we have devoted ourselves. As someone said to us: “Stay, because it’s worth it.” Yes, it is worth saying it, not because “we” are faithful, nor that we have the solution to the problems around us, but rather because the Lord is present, that he is with us in joy, but also in poverty, in pain, in the senseless situations that evil manages to create around us.

Explaining it in words becomes a little artificial; it may sound cliched, a little consolatory. It is simply a matter of continuing to live, day after day: praying the psalms, which take on special meaning precisely because of the situation around us; working the land; studying Arabic; building the monastery; creating as many job opportunities as possible for people in need; living with joy the small moments of community celebration. Welcoming the many people who come to us for a moment of friendship, to find a listening ear, but also simply to ‘breathe in’ the beauty of nature and the peace of silence. For us, it is a path of grace, a path where, with simplicity but also with a certain sense of urgency, we feel truly called to convert ourselves to Christ, that is, to turn our whole lives towards Him, who – we believe – is the One who will unite all things in Himself, those in heaven and those on earth.

Witness

Sr. Asha Thayyil, OSB

Superior General of the Sisters of Saint Lioba in India

Silent Cries of Madhya Pradesh

How Government Harassment Is Strangling Tribal Education and Christian Service

In the heart of India, nestled in the tribal belts of Madhya Pradesh, a quiet tragedy is unfolding. In recent years, the once-thriving mission initiatives—hostels, dispensaries, and training centres—run by Christian organizations in the Sagar Diocese have come under heavy, often unjust, scrutiny. What once served as sanctuaries of hope for the most marginalized, particularly tribal girls, are now being shuttered by state forces under the ruling BJP government, spurred by false allegations and fuelled by the prejudice of right-wing fringe elements.

The hostel run by the Sisters of St. Lioba, home to over 100 tribal girls is a painful example of this systemic targeting. This institution, which for years offered shelter, education, care, and empowerment to girls from impoverished, remote villages, has now been forced to shut down. The reason? Harassment and relentless interference from government bodies and the Child Welfare Committee (CWC), under vague and unjust pretexts. Frequent inspections, documentation hurdles, and threats have made the continuation of these services unbearable.

These actions, however, are not rooted in genuine concern for child welfare. Rather, they are steeped in a false narrative: that Christians are converting tribal children through education and care. This accusation, spread by radical elements with political backing, has no factual basis. The reality is that the Christian population in India has remained static at 2.3% for decades, according to official government data. Despite decades of missionary presence in tribal regions, the children raised and educated in our hostels remain tribals proud of their identity, culture, and roots.

It is a cruel irony that the very institutions which filled the gap where the government failed, providing education, nutrition, and protection, are now being dismantled by the same government under baseless suspicion. With the closure of these hostels, hundreds of girls have been sent back to their villages. Their dreams of becoming educated, independent women have been pushed aside. Many are now unable to access secondary schooling. Some are vulnerable to child labour, early marriage, and systemic neglect. This discrimination doesn’t stop at education.

In Tulsipar, a remote and underserved village in the Sagar Diocese, a small but effective dispensary run by our sisters served hundreds of families with medical help. It was the only accessible health centre for miles. Under the pretext of not meeting certain government “requirements,” the dispensary too was closed down—despite its vital service to the poor. Now, only a pharmacy is allowed to function in its place. This is not mere regulation; it is suppression under the cloak of bureaucracy.

Moreover, even the formation and free mobility of young girls who wish to join religious life are being curtailed. Candidates below the age of 18, who desire to be part of our congregations and receive spiritual and educational formation, cannot be freely moved to other states for training. This restriction has caused significant hardship in nurturing vocations and supporting young girls who freely choose a life of service.

These growing constraints reflect a deliberate agenda, a tightening of control over the Christian community’s outreach among the tribal poor, rooted in ideological fear rather than truth. The right-wing narrative that Christians are “converting” tribals is not only false, but deeply damaging. It denies the decades of selfless service, integrity, and love that Christian missionaries and congregations have poured into these regions not for conversion, but for human dignity.

What we are witnessing in Madhya Pradesh is not just government oversight; it is targeted suppression. When schools are closed, health centres shut, and the free movement of citizens is hindered, we must ask: who benefits from this fear and falsehood? Certainly not the poor. Certainly not the tribal girls who once laughed, studied, and dreamed within the walls of our hostels.

Let us not allow fear to triumph over service. Let us not allow suspicion to destroy compassion. The tribal girls of Madhya Pradesh deserve better.

And we will not stop standing up for them.

Witness

Sr. Maria Liudmyla Kukharyk, OSB

Abbey of Zhytomyr (Ukraine)

Seeds of Hope Amid Suffering

Our monastery stands at the boundary of cultures and worlds, like the last Benedictine cape on the lands of Eastern Europe. Beyond this line, for thousands of kilometres, there is no Benedictine presence. Beyond lies the so-called “Russian world”—whose bitter fruits we’ve been forced to taste for nearly four years now.

Beyond the border, everything changes. Crossing into Europe is always a trial. Hours of exhausting queues, nervous waiting, time seemingly frozen. This humbling wait can last up to ten hours. In the lines, there are mostly women with children. Silently dragging their suitcases and bags, without a man’s hands beside them. Their eyes are tired but filled with determination.

And only when this line — both symbolic and brutally real — is behind your back, another world opens. A world without air raid sirens. Without the sound of missile explosions or the buzzing of Russian drones.

For decades, we lived in the shadow of this threat, not fully realising its weight. It loomed over us, unseen.

We rejoiced in the freedom regained after the collapse of the Soviet system: the sisters could finally place a cross on the monastery’s facade, and the habit could be worn again — not only in secret at night, but openly, in daily life.

We lived for years alongside those who now come armed to seize our land. They once dined in the same restaurants and attended our concerts. They visited our shrines, prayed before our icons.

More than that, we welcomed candidates from Russia. Girls from Russian families, where the Lord inspired vocations to religious life, became our sisters. And today, young men from those very families sign contracts to come to our land—to kill and plunder.

How can one comprehend this terrible shift? From prayer to hatred, from sacredness to crimes against humanity? How can someone become a monster in an instant? This question torments us.

The View Beyond Our Window

Yes, life has become harder. It grows ever more difficult to remain focused and grounded. To stay attentive and present, without losing meaning or hope — this is our daily struggle.

We may feel drained, tired, anxious, and disoriented in these brutal and barren days. It feels like a journey through the desert, as our neighbouring country attacks us each day with relentless cruelty.

We simply live this reality to the fullest extent, trying to remain aware within it. We count the explosions during nightly attacks. Yes, they rob us of sleep. At every flash of the air defence, we glance out of the window. A reddish glow stains the sky. Some sisters still go down to the basement during raids. Others have long stopped.

Miraculously, the missiles pass us by. They strike elsewhere — other cities, other homes, other sleeping families. This very awareness won’t let us sleep. We keep vigil, eyes wide open.

If we allow fear to corner and imprison us, then the enemy has already won. But as long as we stand with eyes wide open, looking evil straight in the face — we have not surrendered. And then dawn comes, as if nothing had happened, as if the sky hadn’t just been torn apart by sirens. A new day begins.

We return to our daily tasks — someone goes out to plant flowers, trying to make the world just a little more beautiful, a little more welcoming. We carry on. Even when it feels like everything is slipping through our hands.

Even when the sound outside is not of bells, but of explosions — still, people come to the church. Mothers teach their children to make the sign of the cross in bomb shelters. They teach them to pray. Let me share the words of one of our parishioners. Her five-year-old son, hiding in a shelter during an air raid, said to her:

“Mama, you should be happy. At least you had a life before the war. I was born into this — I don’t remember anything else but explosions and sirens.”

These children don’t know what peace is.And yet he says this to comfort his mother. This is our grim reality: a new generation is growing up without a sense of safety, without a childhood shielded from the sound of sirens and bombs.

In basements during shelling, people open the Scriptures. Someone reads a psalm. Someone else shares food with the children, trying to distract them. Prayer has become our way of enduring reality. It is a sign of hope in places where hope is no longer being sought. To pray is to believe that darkness will not have the final word in history.

Russian aggression has brought us unspeakable suffering — but it has also awakened a profound strength of solidarity within the country. Yes, we are exhausted, weary, at times overwhelmed.

But among the ruins and the bloodshed, we witness goodness breaking through in people’s hearts. People come to us in search of consolation, a space of silence, a breath of air in a suffocating atmosphere of fear and anxiety. They thirst for the Word of God. And that thirst — that deep longing — is the clearest testimony of living faith.

We do not yet see the grace of this terror coming to an end. The bloodshed continues — even now, as I write these words and you read them. Every day, lives are lost. Every day, more cities are shelled. And each morning, like a Lectio divina, we read the daily news of casualties and destruction.

Our country is becoming a living memorial to its victims. In every square, there are rows lined with flags and photos of the fallen. They flutter everywhere. Each flag represents a single life.

Without Hatred, Without Bitterness…

As I return to the question of how such aggression can exist in the heart of Europe, I am reminded of a striking passage from the diary of Etty Hillesum — the young Jewish woman who perished in Auschwitz, and whose writings were later published as “An Interrupted Life: The Diaries, 1941–1943.” She writes:

“We have so much work to do on ourselves that we shouldn’t even be thinking of hating our so-called enemies… And I repeat with the same old passion… ‘Each of us must turn inward and destroy in himself all that he thinks he ought to destroy in others. And remember that every atom of hate we add to this world makes it still more inhospitable.’”

Etty was reflecting on the atrocities committed by SS soldiers — just as we now shudder at the brutality inflicted by Russian troops. But her insight remains timeless: the true battle against evil begins within ourselves. She is not excusing evil. Rather, she points to the path of inner purification. For Etty, evil is not just the “other,” but a force that must be overcome within one’s own heart.

It is a difficult, but profoundly spiritual and honest way of understanding. In another entry, she writes:

“Each of us must turn inward and destroy in himself all that he thinks he ought to destroy in others.”

These words resonate deeply with the Benedictine tradition. St Benedict reminds us in his Rule:

“If you see any good in yourself, give the credit to God, not to yourself. But always take the blame for the evil you commit.”— RB 4:42–43

Benedict knew well how easily the human heart is deceived — how quick we are to claim the good as our own, and to project our faults onto others. This inner blindness is what gives rise to hatred, division, and war. And so the path to peace — lasting, true peace — begins not with fighting others, but with the cleansing of our own heart. In times of war, these words gain new urgency. Because the temptation to live in hatred becomes overwhelmingly strong.

Russia takes from us what is most precious: loved ones lost at the front or under missile rubble, children forcibly taken from occupied territories, homes and belongings turned to ash.

One woman had to stand upon the charred ruins of her house and watch everything she had built and cherished her whole life reduced to blackened rubble. She confessed:

“I want to curse them. To hate them. They had no right to take this from me and drive me from my home.”

But then she added, quietly:

“Yet if I give in to that, I become like them.”

She made a choice. Just like Etty Hillesum — who, in the time of the Holocaust, refused to let hatred destroy her from within — this Ukrainian woman did not let the enemy poison her heart.

Hillesum once wrote that if we allow hatred to take root in us, the enemy has already succeeded. Because then, the fire of hatred spreads — and we ourselves become carriers of the very evil we wished to defeat.

The Benedictine path offers another way: to recognize our weakness, and — in the light of grace — allow God to bring forth good through us.

To Return Alive

There is a powerful poem by Iryna Tsilyk that has been turned into both a song and a slogan for a Ukrainian relief foundation: “Return Alive.”

You, above all, return home,

Finally shrug off dusty boots,

And learn again to live from then on,

With faith rewoven through your heart.

You, above all, return, having conquered

The unchewed groan of pure evil,

And let go of this hatred forever

Within the dense tranquillity of peace.

You, above all, return along the path

That will preserve both your soul and body.

The black earth, scorched with its heated scent,

Desired only rain — not blood.

This poem is more than a wish for survival — it is a moral compass, a prayer, a plea for the soul to return unbroken. To survive not just in body, but in conscience, in heart, with one’s humanity unbroken. “Dusty boots” become a symbol of the road, of struggle, of exhausted service. “Faith rewoven through your heart” — faith here is not dogma. It has been torn by war, but it can be rewoven, like fabric. Each of us is going through this re-weaving.

The line “groan of pure evil” speaks of war as unfiltered horror — without justification, without disguise. The one who passes through it unconsumed by hatred is not a victor in the traditional sense, but someone who has not allowed evil to enter and deform the soul.

“Let go of this hatred forever” — This is the heart of the message: do not bring hatred home. “The black earth… desired only rain — not blood.” Earth — the symbol of life, of home, of fertility — does not thirst for blood. It longs for rain, for renewal, for peace.

This poem reminds us: true victory is not the defeat of the enemy, but the invincibility of the soul that refused to be conquered by evil.

To return alive means to preserve the ability to love. To not let revenge and hatred become your new way of thinking. To remember why we fought: for humanity, for dignity, for goodness. To acknowledge the pain, but not let it harden your heart.

We are fighting not only for borders — but for the soul of our people. And the soul cannot be saved by weapons if we lose the battle within.

We too, as monastics, are called to exercise spiritual discernment over every thought and every decision.

Evil rarely appears as a monstrous figure. It often creeps in disguised — as a “need,” or as something “justified.” That is why Saint Benedict’s call to humility and purity of heart becomes a shield against the inner logic of violence. In this context, both Scripture and the Rule of Benedict stand before us as guides. They teach us that the heart can remain free and strong, even when everything around us lies in ruins.

It is by faith that we still stand:

By faith, the soldier on the front line finds the courage to fight and defend his people.

By faith, the medic in a combat zone risks their life to save the wounded.

By faith, the exhausted and worn-out volunteer still finds the strength to deliver aid to places where there is nothing left.

By faith, ordinary people come out after bombings and sell flowers amid the rubble, testifying that life is stronger than death.

“Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” (Hebrews 11:1)

All of these moments speak to us — of a hope that is powerful, unshaken, and undefeated. Because right there — where the enemy tries to strip away the last things: our faith, our love, our dignity — it is there that our true resistance is born.

The hardest war is the war against oneself.

One must disarm.

I waged this war for years, it was terrible.

But now I am disarmed.

I'm no longer afraid of anything, because love banishes fear.

I am disarmed of the need to be right,

to justify myself by judging others.

I am no longer on guard, jealously clutching my wealth.

II accept and share.

i do not particularly care about my ideas, my projects.

If somebody suggests better ones – no, I should say good

ones not better ones – I accept without regrets.

I have stopped making comparisons.

What is good, true, real, is always best for me.

That's why I'm not afraid anymore.

When we have nothing left, we have no fear.

If one disarms oneself, if one dispossesses oneself,

if one opens oneself to the Love that makes all things new,

then that Love erases the bad past

and makes for us a new time where everything is possible.

Patriarch Athenagoras

Liturgy

Father Gérard Gally

Priest of the Diocese of Poitiers (France)

“Vision of Peace”

Liturgy and architecture

Monks have always attached great importance to the way their living space is arranged. It can truly be said that architecture is an element that gives structure to their spirituality. This approach gives their existence an edifying character, in the figurative sense of the term, where the liturgical aspect plays a vital role in bringing everything together: for them, liturgy is to architecture what the soul is to the body.

When we talk about these monastic realities, we can easily extend their significance to all Christian life: it is essential that monks and nuns feel, through the fundamental reality of their baptism, in close proximity to all other members of the Church of Christ.

I- Liturgy of Dedication

In the Christian liturgical year, there is a period that is particularly dear to the hearts of monks and nuns, namely autumn, when a large number of Dedication celebrations take place. What is this? Dedication is the ceremony by which a church is consecrated. Following this consecration, the community of believers is called to commemorate the annual anniversary of this founding act.

There is rich symbolism here, because in addition to the fact that these feasts are rooted in the Dedication of the Temple of Jerusalem at the time of Sukkot (which evokes the huts erected in the vineyards at the time of the grape harvest and those planted in the desert during the forty years that Israel spent in the desert after leaving Egypt, at the heart of which is the Tent of Meeting, the place of God’s presence and a foreshadowing of the Temple), it also envisages the gathering of God’s people in unity, as an image of the promise made by God to Abraham and Moses, in a vision of peace.

Thus, Christian liturgy is part of such an event. After the feasts of Easter and Pentecost, after Christ’s Passover and the gift of the Holy Spirit, the liturgy turns towards the fulfilment of the messianic promise: the recapitulation of all things under one Head, Christ, who is the cornerstone of the whole edifice, the new temple of his Body, which is the Church.

This is why, whenever monastic communities sing the famous hymn Urbs Jerusalem beata during the feasts of dedication, their hearts are set ablaze and prepared for the great transformation that God desires for all creatures living under heaven, until they form one body.

Urbs Ierusalem beata

Dicta pacis visio

Quae construitur in caelis

Vivis ex lapidibus

Angelisque coronata

Sicut sponsa comite.

Great Jerusalem, our city,

Named the vision of God’s peace,

Now in heaven they build your fabric

With the living souls of men;

Even now the angels crown you

As a bridesmaid crowns the bride.

We can, therefore, say that Christian life has an architectural vocation. This architectural dimension refers, of course, to the living stones that we are, and allows us to connect the building of the Church with the living Body that it becomes.

II- The Threshold

Before enjoying the vision of peace, a whole journey is necessary. First, there is a threshold to cross. We enter the body of the Church as if entering a highly sacred space. The door is a passageway, sometimes narrow. It is a matter of dying to deceptive appearances in order to access the truth of the man-God, Christ. By crossing the threshold of a church, Adam, while tempted to turn away from God, undergoes a conversion of will and ultimately joins Jesus in communion with his Father.

This passage to becoming a member of Christ is accomplished through the water of baptism. This can take place in the baptistery outside or at the entrance to the Church. Each of us has been immersed in the water of baptism and emerged from it to share in Christ’s Passover as a new birth.

The monks are particularly attentive to the symbolism of the passages through the thousand doors they use to cross the threshold of the church, and to that of water, which is very common in their daily lives.

III- The nave

Once inside the building, Christians enter into a Eucharistic attitude. This is the whole meaning of Christian life: to enter into this attitude, regardless of the moment and the style of presence in the Church, liturgical or otherwise.

A symbol exists in many ancient churches in the form of a labyrinth: this is not esoteric. It simply offers an image of the journey from the outer door to the inner dwelling. Men and women set out on a journey to form a people journeying towards the Jerusalem above. The path is long and, in a way, unknown. To signify this, monks are fond of processions. They enter the church together to celebrate the service and leave in the same way.

During the Eucharist, another procession is that of the offering of gifts for the Offertory: this was happily emphasised by the reforms of Vatican II and shines in all its splendour in the Byzantine liturgy with the singing of the Cherubic Hymn. Finally, during this same liturgy, the monks, like all Christians, come in procession to receive communion.

This shows how much the architectural space is a community space. Moreover, the very shape of the building, with its pillars and vaults, invites us to consider the gathering of a new people moving towards its centre. The pillars are like giants on the march, and the vaults bring them together. The decorated capitals are bursting with life, and the frescoes that once adorned the walls of churches increase the number of participants, bringing the faithful into the presence of the communion of saints. Even when one is alone and enters a church, there is good reason to make a pilgrimage there in the presence of an entire people.

IV- The Altar

When we set out on a journey, it is rarely without a purpose. In the architecture of monastic and Christian life, pilgrimage leads to listening to the Word and its Eucharistic expression around the altar.

The Word of God must rise up in the church building as a testimony to the presence of the Word made flesh.

We are familiar with the quotation from the Constitution on the Liturgy of the Second Vatican Council in chapter 7: ‘God is present in his Word, since it is He Himself who speaks when the Holy Scriptures are read in Church’ (Sacrosanctum Concilium, 7).

Privileged contact with the Word of God is above all liturgical; indeed, in the liturgy, the Word is received, transmitted, interpreted and actualised; it cannot belong to me alone; it truly brings together all the people of God in a powerful communion. However, this liturgical listening is all the more fruitful when it is prepared in silence and resonates beyond the celebration, in one-on-one communion with God. We understand well the importance of the place of the Word. Whether fixed or not (not all liturgies have the same practices in this regard), this place manifests the presence of a Word other than simply our own, a Word which, through the voice of its ministers, resonates as a call to follow: not simply as an injunction to be passively obeyed, but as a place of sharing, lively exchange and common interpretation where each member of the Church can find a place to speak and listen.

However, listening to the Word calls for action. The symbol of the altar represents this movement in which the Word made flesh gave himself entirely in love for his Father and for humanity, so that the world might recognise the path to true life and find its way out of the dead ends of its own senseless labyrinth.

The altar therefore represents Christ in his Paschal mystery. His whole life is a sacrifice of praise; at the centre and summit of this life is his self-sacrifice in a relationship of trust with his Father and in total sharing with all humanity, whether friend or foe. The altar represents this because it refers to the altar of sacrifice where everything is given to God in a great movement of blessing. God gave everything in his Son, and in his Son, everything is given to him and shared among all.

It is understood that when entering a church, the altar is greeted before any other sign. Traditionally, the altar represents Christ in his Easter mystery. By greeting and venerating it, we make an act of faith to follow Christ and make his Word our everyday reality. This is truly where the architecture of a Christian life is built. Monks focus their lives around this centre and try to share it on a daily basis, beyond the celebration alone.

V- Liturgy

As has already been said, liturgy is like cement, weaving together the Eucharistic architecture of Christian and monastic life.

I will conclude by highlighting a few aspects that I find particularly meaningful:

– The first is taken from the liturgy of the Dedication. Before entering the church after blessing the exterior walls, the bishop stands at the door of the church and strikes the door with his crozier while Psalm 23 is sung: ‘O gates, lift high your heads; grow higher, ancient doors. Let him enter, the king of glory!’ Inside, the cantors ask: ‘Who is this King of Glory?’ and the reply is: ‘He, the Lord of armies, he is the king of glory.’ Then the bishop, followed by all the people, enters the building: there is a magnificent doorway, in which all life will once again find confidence: ‘Knock and it shall be opened unto you.’

– The second is the astonishing repertoire of songs from different liturgical traditions, consisting of psalms, troparia, hymns... They resound like the sound of the oceans: they represent the immense crowd of those who seek God and who journey tirelessly.

– The third is the significance of the divine Word at the heart of the building, with the duty of the people to respond to it and put it into practice. In Christian liturgy, there is never a gift of the Word without a response in return.

– The fourth is the possibility of communion, whether sacramental or not, to taste the mercy of God who wants to make us like him. ‘Taste and see that the Lord is good’ is the verse from Psalm 33 that is most often used in Christian liturgy to accompany the movement of communion.

Beyond liturgy, there is everyday life, where we continue our pilgrimage, and there is the hope of the heavenly Jerusalem that we mentioned at the beginning of this article, without which our spiritual architecture would remain incomplete. Yes, whether we are monks, nuns, or baptised Christians without any other form of consecration, the architecture of our lives is called to become profoundly liturgical.

Great figures of monastic life

Fro the Website of the Benedictine Abbey of Kylemore

Ireland

Mother Máire Hickey

(1938-2025)

Former Abbess of the Benedictine communities of Kylemore Abbey and of Abtei St. Scholastika, Dinklage, Germany and late of Clontarf, Dublin. February 23rd 2025, Sr. Máire passed peacefully at the Monastery of the Immaculate Conception, Kylemore Abbey in the loving care of Mother Karol O’Connell OSB and surrounded by the Benedictine community and Family. Deeply mourned by the Benedictine nuns of Kylemore Abbey, her sister, Una and brother-in-law, Sam Wilson, and her nieces, Orla Wilson, Fiona Malan, Kathryn Wilson and their families, and the wider monastic community.

Máire Hickey was born in Dublin in 1938. She studied classics in the University of Cambridge, where she received a first-class honours degree (Classical Tripos) in 1965 and a PhD in 1973. In 1974 she entered the monastery of St Scholastika at Dinklage, Lower Saxony, Germany, making her first profession in March 1977 and her final profession in March 1980.

In 1983, the community elected Sr Máire as the second abbess of Dinklage and in 1995 she was re-elected to serve for a further 12 years until 2007. Sr Máire was committed to building community within the worldwide context of the Benedictine Order. She was the long-time chairwoman of the Association of Benedictine Women’s Monasteries in German-speaking countries (VBD).

During her abbatial term at Dinklage, she helped establish the Communio Internationalis Benedictinarum (CIB) – the International Communion of Benedictine Women – and was elected the first moderator of CIB in 1998, a role she held until 2006.

In 2007, she moved to Kylemore Abbey, where she served as leader of the monastic community until 2023. During her fifteen-year tenure as Abbess of Kylemore Abbey, Sr Máire guided the community through a period of great change and development. She set out a new vision for Kylemore Abbey, establishing The Kylemore Trust which enabled many new physical developments and enhancements to the Estate.

In keeping with Kylemore Abbey’s long tradition of education going back to Ypres in 1665, Sr Máire led the development of a partnership with the University of Notre Dame (Indiana, USA) which established a Notre Dame Global Centre of Education at Kylemore. For her commitment to education and spirituality, she was awarded an honorary doctorate from Notre Dame University in 2016.

A keen interest in the community’s history and that of Irish female monasticism in general, led her to encourage projects that eventually resulted in the publication of The Benedictine Nuns and Kylemore Abbey: A History (Dublin, 2020) and Brides of Christ: Women and Monasticism in Medieval and Early Modern Ireland (Dublin, 2022).

In 2019, she initiated The Mustard Seed project, which links Kylemore’s Benedictine Community with the Benedictine Sisters of Christu Jyothi in the Diocese of Cuddapah (Kadapa), Andhra Pradesh, India.

In 2024, recently retired from the position of Abbess, Sr Máire along with the community celebrated the opening of the new Monastery of the Immaculate Conception at Kylemore Abbey. This was the realisation of a 100-year vision to establish a purpose-built monastery at Kylemore, alongside an Education and Residential Retreat Centre. This historic milestone was a testament to the leadership, faith and dedication of Sr Máire who shepherded the project through many challenges.

Sr Máire is fondly remembered by the Benedictine nuns of Kylemore Abbey, her sister, Una, and brother-in-law, Sam Wilson, and her nieces, Orla Wilson, Fiona Malan, Kathryn Wilson and their families, along with the board members of The Kylemore Trust, the Kylemore Abbey Team, and by the wider monastic world and the local community.

Speaking on behalf of the Benedictine Community of Kylemore Abbey, Mother Karol O’Connell said:

“Sr. Máire was a woman of great faith, humility and wisdom. She was a builder of Benedictine peace, community, openness, and holy creativity. Her legacy will continue to live on here in Kylemore Abbey, in the wider monastic community, and far beyond – bringing blessings wherever she placed her hand and her heart.”

Great figures of Monastic Life

Article from Cuadernos monásticos 234, 2025, p. 371-373

vith the kind agreement of Dom Enrique Contreras

Dom Mamerto Francisco Menapace

(1942-2025)

The departure of our beloved Father Mamerto to the Father’s House marks a crucial moment in the life of our community at Santa María de Los Toldos Abbey, Argentina. He gave us such wonderful and profound gifts that nothing and no one can ever take them away from us. He arrived at the Benedictine community of Los Toldos at a very young age and remained deeply faithful and admirably persevering throughout his life.

At the age of 18, he took his temporary vows and, six years later, was ordained a priest. During this stage of his monastic life, he carried out various services, always with remarkable lucidity and great dedication, in a complex and demanding period.

For several years he lived with the founding monks of our monastery. He accompanied many brothers from various communities in the Southern Cone (Cono Sur), who carried out important tasks in their respective houses, within the Conference of Monastic Communities of the Southern Cone (SURCO) and our Benedictine Congregation of the Holy Cross of the Southern Cone. At the beginning of our monastic life, he welcomed many of us, accompanied us and guided us with an expert hand.

He was superior of our monastery in Los Toldos for eighteen years. He served the community with total dedication, leading it to full integration into our neighbourhood, our diocese and the Argentine Church. A faithful example of this work is the initiative of the annual pilgrimage that comes from different cities of the diocese to our monastery to venerate our Holy Mother, the Black Virgin.

At the end of his service as prior and first abbot of our community, he was elected Abbot President of the Congregation. He devoted all his energy to this difficult mission until his body and age prevented him from continuing his work. These were twenty-seven years of lucid, selfless and fruitful dedication.

At the end of this demanding period, his body began to show increasingly obvious signs of weakness, which rapidly worsened over the last year.

Father Mamerto also left us a very special gift: his remarkable literary work. Through his books, he was able to reach every corner of our country, as well as nations in other parts of the world. His works are simple, profound and rich in unique spiritual experience. His contribution to Christian and monastic spirituality is not only undeniable, but also marks an important turning point among Benedictine authors.

This gift bequeathed by our beloved Father Mamerto stems from his exemplary fidelity to daily reading of the Word of God. His example should challenge and encourage us to follow the same path.

Thank you very much, Father Mamerto, for your inspiring example. Forgive us for what we were unable to learn or appreciate during your lifetime. We now entrust ourselves to your intercession and know that, without a doubt, you will accompany us as our community moves towards the future.

God is good! He had deprived us of your physical presence, but grants us your spiritual presence and your help in whatever Providence has in store for us. We know of your great devotion to the Mother of God, the Black Madonna. Pray for us that she may protect us and guide us on smooth paths.

SALVE, Regina,

mater misericordiae, vita, dulcedo, et spes nostra, salve.

Ad te clamamus exsules filii Evae.

Ad te suspiramus, gementes et flentes in hac lacrimarum valle.

Eia, ergo, advocata nostra,

illos tuos misericordes oculos ad nos converte.

Et Iesum, benedictum fructum ventris tui,

nobis post hoc exsilium ostende.

O clemens, O pia, O dulcis Virgo Maria. Alleluia.

News

The New Secretariat of AIM

Father Bernard Lorent Tayart, president of AIM, after consulting with Father Abbot Primate, Dom Jeremias Schröder, has appointed Father Charbel Pazat de Lys as secretary general of AIM for a five-year term.

Father Charbel was born in Madrid but is of French origin. He has been a monk at the Abbey of Sainte-Madeleine du Barroux (France) for forty years. A doctor and professor of liturgy who speaks several languages, he has held numerous responsibilities and positions within the monastery: assistant novice master, master of students, master of the brothers, headteacher, manager of the oil press, kitchen, IT at the university, designer, publications, archives, chancellery, food bank, etc. Father Charbel has also been involved in pastoral activities (liturgical youth movement, association for divorcees, retreats).

Following the reorganisation of the Secretariat, please note the new AIM email addresses:

– President, Fr. Bernard: president@aimintl.org.

– The Secretariat address, managed by Fr. Charbel: secretary@aimintl.org. All requests for project funding should be sent to Fr. Charbel at this new address.

– Regarding the AIM Bulletin and website (still managed by Sister Isabelle): newsletter@aimintl.org.

All other and former AIM addresses will be closed within a few months.

Further practical information on the new organisation of the Secretariat will be posted on the AIM website in due course.

News

Extract from the Report of DIM-MID

to the Congress of Benedictine Abbots (Sept. 2024)

Father William Skudlarek, OSB

Outgoing Secretary General

At the last Congress of Abbots in 2016, my report was an introduction to a bi-lingual workshop on interreligious dialogue. I am grateful to the organizers of this year’s congress for inviting me to present my final report as Secretary General at a plenary session of the congress. A new Secretary General, who is present among us, will succeed me on October 1, and I will conclude my report by inviting him to speak to you.

In 2007, I was appointed to succeed Father Pierre-François de Béthune, a monk of Clerlande in Belgium, who became the first Secretary General in 1994. That was the year DIM-MID became a separate secretariat within the Benedictine Confederation. Before that, it had existed since its founding in 1978 as a sub-commission of AIM. During his thirteen years in office, Father Pierre established regional and linguistic commissions of DIM-MID, organized very successful and ongoing spiritual exchange programs with Japanese Zen Buddhist monks and nuns, published a bulletin to report on DIM-MID’s activities and various interreligious topics, and established a sizeable endowment to support the activities of DIM-MID. Benedictine monasticism owes an immense debt of gratitude to Father Pierre for fostering and continuing to promote the engagement of monks and nuns in interreligious dialogue.

In this report, I will comment on just two activities DIM-MID has been involved in over the past eight years. The first is publishing an online, international, multi-language journal. It is called Dilatato Corde, and its first issue came out in 2011. The title, as you may recognize, is taken from the Prologue of the Rule of Benedict and suggests that interreligious dialogue can also contribute to expanding the hearts of monks and nuns.

Dilatato Corde publishes both textual and visual works of spiritual practitioners and scholars from different religious traditions who wish to report, reflect on, and examine the dialogue of spiritual or religious experience. Especially notable is the second issue of the year 2023, which commemorated the fiftieth anniversary of the death of one of the great pioneers of monastic interreligious dialogue, the French monk Henri Le Saux, also known as Swami Abhishiktananda.

I maintain an email list of all those who want to be informed when new contributions appear in Dilatato Corde. To be added to that list, simply email me at wskudlarek@csbsju.edu.

The second major activity of these past eight years has been the expansion of dialogue with Muslims. In its first years, Monastic Interreligious Dialogue was especially focused on dialogue with Buddhists and Hindus, two ancient spiritual traditions in which monasticism plays an important role. Although Islam does not have a monastic institution, the Muslim practice of communal prayer at certain hours of the day parallels our emphasis on the Work of God, to which Benedict says nothing is to be preferred.

Since 2011, DIM-MID has been involved in dialogue with Shi‘a Muslims, and since 2017 that dialogue has been especially focused on Africa, a continent with approximately 500-550 million Muslims, who account for about 45-50% of the continent’s total population. According to the OSB Atlas, Africa is also home to approximately 125 Benedictine houses, priories, and abbeys, several of them among the largest in the world. The development of good relations between monastic communities and their Muslim neighbors is not only important for the well-being of both communities but a prophetic sign to the world at large that people of different religious convictions can live in peace and share their spiritual gifts.

News

The New Secretary General of DIM-MID

Father Cyprian Consiglio, OSB

Presentation to the Congress of Abbots, September 2024

I am Cyprian Consiglio, a Camaldolese Benedictine from the central coast of California. I’m in my thirty-third year of monastic life now. The main thing that I would like to share with you is that I am proud to consider myself in the lineage of Bede Griffiths and Abhishiktananda. I met Fr. Bede in 1992 just as I was entering monastic life, on his way back to India where he subsequently died a few months later. My encounter with him so touched me that from the first moment of my monastic life I began studying not only his writings but also delving into Asian philosophy and spirituality even as I was being formed in monastic history and Western mysticism. I also did my Master’s Thesis on the subject. As you may know Fr. Bede brought himself and Saccidananda Ashram into our Congregation, so I consider the monks and nuns there my close confreres. I have been there nearly a dozen times and of course traveled in other parts of India as well.

I spent ten years living away from my community in a kind of experimental life before I was called back for the service of prior. I had a hermitage in the forest, but I also worked extensively in interreligious dialogue, work that eventually took me to many parts of the world. Besides the dialogue with Buddhism and Hinduism (mainly through Soto Zen and the Yoga tradition), I have been greatly influenced by Taoism and have been able to encounter exponents of that tradition, especially in Singapore and Malaysia.

Back home in California, I founded a Christian Sangha to minister to the many people who were exploring both Asian and Western spirituality, many of whom were Christians trying to reconcile the treasures that they, like me, had found in another tradition and come back home to the Church. I also did work with and for a Danish missionary group called Danmission that I had encountered in India. Besides bringing me to Denmark for a series of conferences and concerts, they also organized an amazing trip for me to Lebanon and Syria doing a series that they called “Dialogue through Music.” During that same period, I helped begin a movement in California called “The Tent of Abraham” to foster moments of encounter, dialogue, and friendship among Jews, Christians, and Muslims. With members of that same group, I made a pilgrimage to Israel and Palestine that was nothing short of life-changing for me and made me realize what a privileged place Christians have in the relationship with the other children of Abraham.

For many years, my first discipline was liturgy and music, and I was fortunate to work for and with some of the pioneers of the Second Vatican Council, particularly Fr. Lucien Deiss. That background has given me a solid foundation for work in interreligious dialogue, and, of course, music has been an amazing bridge between peoples and cultures. I have written and recorded many songs based on texts and/or music of these various traditions and cultures.

When Fr. William and Abbot Gregory asked me to take on this position, it occurred to me that it would cover almost everything I love and feel called to do: writing, retreat work, as well as music.

I have been told that interest in this dialogue has diminished in the Church over the last few years. I’m sad to hear that, but I consider it a challenge, because, as the Holy Father has pointed out, dialogue seems to me to be not only the most beautiful face of the church but so vital to world peace. And of course, there is something specific that we monks bring to this work––a spiritual depth and an ascetical life built on prayer, meditation, and closeness to Scripture.

Two phrases of Raimon Panikkar serve me as a kind of theme regarding all of this. He insists that we are not looking for the unity of religions so much as we are looking for harmony between religions. And the other phrase that I believe comes from him is, “well-worn paths between huts.” We don’t necessarily need more seminars, lectures, and conferences: we need to beat paths of friendship between people and peoples. In my understanding, this is what the original mandate from the Vatican to us was. We Camaldolese also received a special mandate from John Paul II. On his visit to the Sacro Eremo in 1993, he urged us to continue the work we were already engaged in in this field. So, needless to say, I thank William for his many years of service, and him and Abbot Gregory for their confidence in me; and I am honored and humbled to try to be that face of Christian monasticism to the world so in need of this friendship, in the name of Jesus the Lord.

News of June 2025

I am ending my extended time in the US at Saint John’s Abbey in Collegeville, Minnesota, in the company of Father William Skudlarek, my predecessor and current executive director of the American branch of MID, and two members of the MID Board of Directors, Father Michael Peterson also of Saint John’s and Father Lawrence Morey of Gethsemani Abbey. Several other board members joined us online from around the country. It was a fitting way to end this sojourn since it was exactly a year ago that I was here giving the monastic community their retreat when Father William asked me if I would be willing to step in as his successor. And the rest of is history, ongoing history...

The board members and I have had good discussions about how to revive the work of MID in America, a similar discussion that I have had and will be having with other directors around the world in the coming months. I feel as if we need to remind people that, just as Vatican II was not a passing fad, so the work of interreligious dialogue is going to be an ongoing perennial ministry in the church and the world. Even if it is hard to build up steam again post-Covid (and with our aging communities sometimes being in survival mode), we monks still have a mandate from the Vatican to take a leading role in interreligious dialogue. As Cardinal Pignedoli said back in 1974,

“The presence of monasticism in the Catholic Church is in itself a bridge spanning all religions. If we were to present ourselves to Buddhism and Hinduism, not to mention other religions, without the monastic religious experience, we would hardly be credible as religious persons.”

The key words that have been on my mind these weeks are the two verbs used to describe my role: to promote and engage in interreligious dialogue. I see the first, to promote, as intrareligious, that is, within our own tradition, especially within monasticism, emphasizing the ongoing importance of dialogue; whereas the second, to engage in, is extra-ecclesial, going to folks outside of our tradition, hopefully on their turf, an activity that I find stimulating and refreshing––and vitally important.

Projects supported by AIM

Projects supported by AIM

Mahitsy (Madagascar):

Construction of a unit for biomethanisation

The Benedictine monastery of Mahitsy, part of the Subiaco-Cassinese Congregation, is located 30 km north-west of Tananarive (Antananarivo), at an altitude of 1,500 m. The community currently has around twenty monks. Mahitsy was founded in 1955 by the Abbey of La Pierre-Qui-Vire (France). The community’s activities:

– Guesthouse (25 beds)

– Monthly marriage preparation sessions for the parish

– French and English lessons for local young people

– Publication of works on monastic tradition and spirituality in the Malagasy language

– Raising laying hens, local chickens and dairy cows

– Exploitation of the pine and eucalyptus forest: sale of timber or firewood

The community plans to build and operate a fixed 60m3 biogas plant. The aim of this operation is to save more than 200m3 of firewood per year, preserve the forest (which is replanted periodically) and thus contribute to the fight against global warming.

Methane production is a biological process that occurs during the degradation of organic matter. It occurs in many natural processes. It is also a technique used in methanisation plants, where the process is accelerated and controlled to produce a combustible gas (biogas, known as biomethane after purification). Organic waste (or products from energy crops, solid or liquid) can thus be converted into energy.

The beneficiaries of the project will be the monastic community and its guests, as well as part of the surrounding population that depends on forestry, including a large group of poor people who sell dead wood.

The Mahitsy community is contributing 2,000 euros to the project. AIM is supporting this project with €3,970.

Community of Umkon, Shillong (northeastern India):

construction of housing for school staff

The Benedictine Sisters of St. Lioba began their mission in Umkon in north-eastern India in 2021, in the parish of Umkon run by the Salesian Missionaries. Their main objective in coming to this north-eastern state is to proclaim the Gospel and deepen the religious formation of the faithful while promoting education and empowerment.

In this remote area, the sisters actively manage and administer a school, providing essential education to children who do not have access to qualified teachers. In addition to teaching, they make home visits and offer extra tutoring to improve the children’s academic performance. For them, education is a tool for societal change.

True to their charism, ‘Never abandon charity,’ they are involved in various apostolates such as teaching, healthcare, social work and pastoral activities. The local community greatly appreciates their presence, as evidenced by its active participation in the Church. Having successfully managed a school and a dispensary in the Diocese of Nongstoin, Meghalaya, they are confident that they can replicate this model in this new district.

They are currently building staff accommodation to attract qualified teachers to the school and provide better education in this disadvantaged region. Although they have raised 70% of the necessary funds locally, the remoteness and high transport costs make it difficult to cover the remaining expenses. They still need around €30,000 to complete the project.

The new building will serve several purposes:

 – Staff accommodation to attract qualified teachers.

– A study centre for pupils in difficulty, offering extra lessons outside school hours.

– A place for children to learn about their faith.

– A space for empowerment and self-development sessions, particularly for women in the village.

AIM is supporting this project with €30,000.

Meeting of EMLA

The next EMLA (Latin American Monastic Meeting) will be held from 3 to 10 November 2025 in Salvador de Bahia (Brazil). This meeting takes place every four years in different South American countries.

CIMBRA (Brazilian Monastic Exchange Conference) will host this meeting of all the monasteries following the Rule of St Benedict on the Latin American continent. There will be 90 to 110 participants representing the different regions of South America through local monastic associations: ABECCA, SURCO and CIMBRA.

In addition to the contributions of Father Abbot Primate Jérémias Schröder, the Abbot General of the Cistercians, Dom Mauro-Giuseppe Lepori, the Abbot General of the Trappists, Dom Bernardus Peeters, the moderator of the CIB (International Benedictine Communion), Sister Lynn McKenzie, and the President of the AIM, Dom Bernard Lorent Tayart, each region and several speakers will present an aspect of the overall theme – ‘Fraternal communities for a fraternal world. May they all be one so that the world may believe (Jn 17:21)’: ‘Foundations of fraternal life in the Rule’, ‘The path of fraternity today, obstacles, forgiveness and reconciliation’, ‘Communities as places of formation in fraternity’, ‘Monastic life, hope for the Church and for the world’.

Of course, the main purpose of these meetings is always to meet other people who are responsible for their communities. There are many topics to discuss in a variety of contexts.

All of this comes at a cost, of course, in terms of accommodation, travel for the preparation team, organising an outing during the meeting, room and equipment costs, etc. AIM provides €25,000 in funding.