By Francesca Sabatinelli
Israeli bombings in Lebanon are killing people; they “strike walls,” and are also creating an “environment of hatred and revenge, a place that has nothing to do with the tranquillity of Lebanon.” What is happening does not belong to the life of the Lebanese, regardless of their religion, as they have always been accustomed to living together.
Brother Tony Choukri, of the Custody of the Holy Land, describes his country, Lebanon, as “an interwoven fabric – not a set of groups, but a single fabric, a single entity, where Christians and Muslims are united as one, and completely foreign to everything that is happening.”
Br Choukri is the Guardian of the Franciscan Monastery of St Joseph, in the Christian district of Gemmayzeh in Beirut, “an area that is normally touristic, let’s say, but now we are surrounded by fears and uncertainties,” he explained.
The monastery carries the memory not only of the devastating 2020 explosion at the Lebanese capital’s port, but also of the country’s war from its earliest years in 1974.
Despite everything, however, the monastery remains “a constant presence in which people place their trust, where they feel safe, because the friars have always been present; they have always stayed and never abandoned the monastery,” which is located in the very centre of the city, in its oldest part, where there is not even a shelter.
No place is safe
There is great fear among the displaced people who have sought refuge there, “because you never know what might happen; everything can change in a minute. You don’t know how to move, and you don’t even know what can be done,” Br Choukri said.
However, all of Lebanon is unsafe right now.
“We thought the bombings would stop in the south, where Hezbollah’s areas are, where the ‘hot’ border with Israel lies. But the strikes have reached here as well. Clearly, the geography of unsafe places is expanding; one can no longer think of any area as more protected,” he continued.
Fear and hospitality
That great fear became concrete just two days ago when, during preparations for the feast of St Joseph, everything began to shake. Those gathered in the church praying at that moment felt the bombing that struck only 300 metres from the monastery.
Despite everything, however, no one leaves. The monastery has always been a point of reference for those in need, for refugees arriving from southern Lebanon or, in the past, for those who came because of the war in Syria.
Over the years, humanitarian corridors have also started from the Monastery of St Joseph. Now, while living under bombardment, it has become a place of refuge for displaced people.
At present about 150 people are being sheltered, but “we want to find another way out for children and the elderly; we want to find a safer place for them,” Br Choukri emphasised.
“The smallest children, as soon as they hear a noise that might resemble gunfire, run to hide in corners or with their mothers. We want to find a more sheltered place for them.”
God does not give permission to kill
However, this does not apply to the religious brothers of the monastery, who do not intend to leave Gemmayzeh. They remain beside the communities that today live with the dramatic feeling of being “marginalised, unwanted, oppressed.”
And although Br Choukri does not hide his great trust in the Lebanese and in their abilities, he also acknowledges that “the evil one takes his space.” Fear is spreading among the population, with all the consequences that may follow.
Br Choukri’s appeal above all is to stop “this suffering.”
“Think about those who are dying, because the Lord has not given anyone permission to kill people,” he insisted.
His request is that people live in respect for the law, for human rights, and for faith, as “the human being is not an object, and death is neither a path nor a tool to change strategies, demography, and borders.” – Vatican News
