The Sixteenth
Sunday in Ordinary Time (B)
Dear
brothers and sisters,
This
past Monday evening, a great “straight line wind” event struck my home of
Quincy, leaving behind a scene of great damage throughout the city. By God’s
good grace, no one was injured, but windows were broken, a roof was torn off of
at least one building, power lines and light poles were downed, and great and
old trees – no small part of the city’s beauty – were blown apart and ripped
from the ground. Even the cemeteries were not spared. The city is still working
on cleaning up the wake of destruction; soon, though, things will be set right
and we will begin the replanting of our beloved trees.
As
I returned to Quincy Friday evening after a little more than a week away, my
heart was moved with pity both for the city itself and for its inhabitants.
Tears formed in my eyes as I saw what happened to the city I hold so dear.
Seeing pictures on Facebook and in the news is one thing, but seeing it with my
own eyes was something quite different. Even so, the wreckage of what can be
seen in Quincy is nothing in comparison with what we learned of one year ago in
Iraq, of the devastation the Iraqi Christians continue to endure for whom our
hearts must surely be moved with pity.
It
was on July 18, 2014 that the world began to learn with horror that the Islamic
State had marked the homes and businesses of Christians in the city of Mosul
with the Arabic letter noon, the
equivalent of our ‘n’. Today, most of the world seems to have forgotten the
genocidal act committed by the Islamic State in Mosul, to say nothing of the
genocidal activity that continues to this very day.
The
Islamic State used this letter to mark the buildings and their inhabitants as Nasrani, a pejorative term to designate Christians
in Arabic in reference to the Nazarene, to Jesus of Nazareth, to whom they,
like us, pledged their lives and obedience in holy Baptism. The Christians of
Mosul – and of other cities, as well, were given three choices: convert to Islam,
pay a heavy annual tax and live with few rights and liberties like slaves, or
die by the sword. They chose instead a fourth option and fled for their lives.
That was one year ago when for the first time in more than 1,600 years, there were
no Christians in Mosul. One year later the Christians still tremble in fear as
the Islamic State grows in force and size.
The
Iraqi Christians walk now in the dark valley and pray that goodness and mercy
will not only follow them, but also walk before them and around them (see Psalm 23:4, 6). They beg the Lord to raise up his rod and staff to defend them (see
Psalm 23:4). They pray that the Lord’s right hand will be with them, that his
arm will make them strong (see Psalm 89:22).
They
are not alone in their sufferings. The Islamic state is also persecuting
Christians in Syria and in Libya, Egypt, Somalia, and Nigeria as more and more
Islamic terror groups like Boko Haram and al-Shabaab pledge allegiance to the
Islamic State.
As
they cry out to God, the persecuted Christians of the world also cry out to us,
pleading with us to come to their aid. The situation is dire and grim and the
world largely simply sits back watching, doing nothing or, at best, very
little.
No
matter how many miles separate us from the Iraqi Christians and our other
persecuted brothers and sisters, we cannot ignore their plight, nor can we
remain silent. They are suffering greatly for the sake of the name of the Lord
Jesus, the same name that unites us together in the Body of Christ. We cannot
ignore them or their needs because, as Saint Paul teaches us, “If [one] part
suffers, all the parts suffer with it” (I Corinthians 12:26).
It
was not that long ago that people outside Germany looked back at the terrors of
the concentration camps and asked, “How did they allow this to happen? How did
they not see it coming? Why did they say nothing? Why did they do nothing?”
Before he was elected Chancellor of Germany, everyone knew what Hitler wanted
to do, but no one thought he would actually do it. Then, step by purposeful
step, he incrementally began his campaign. It was subtle at first, but in the
end deadly and horrific.
Right
before our eyes another such genocide is occurring at this very moment in Iraq and
Syria and Nigeria and Egypt and Libya and Tunisia and Somalia – we have seen
the pictures! What is more, we have known this was coming for months, and we
did nothing! History, I fear, will look back upon us and condemn us with the
same questions we asked about Hitler’s Germany: “How did they allow this to
happen? How did they not see it coming? Why did they say nothing? Why did they
do nothing?”
Among
the many victims in the camp at Auschwitz was a Carmelite nun, Saint Teresa
Benedicta of the Cross. She was born to Jewish parents and given the name Edith
Stein. She abandoned Judaism for atheism in her teenage years and became a renowned
philosopher whose thought deeply influenced Saint John Paul II. Before her
martyrdom in the gas chambers, she said, “Those who remain silent are
responsible.” Her words were directed at those of her own day, and they are
equally directed at those of our own day. Yes, those who remain silent are
responsible!
The
Catholic News Agency recently reported about George Weidenfeld whom Christians
rescued from the Nazis and brought to England. At the age of 95, himself a Jew,
he has not forgotten the generosity and courage of Christians who saved him
from nearly certain death. In order to repay what he sees as a debt, he has
established the Weidenfeld Safe Havens Fund with the hopes of rescuing at least
2,000 Christians from Iraq and Syria over the next two years. It conducted its
first operations last week and flew 150 Syrian Christians to Poland. Mr.
Weidenfeld said, “I can’t save the world, but there’s a very specific
possibility on the Christian side.”[1] His example forces us to
consider what we are doing to save our persecuted brothers and sisters. Maybe
we cannot save 2,000 or even 150, but can we save 1? What can we do, and what
should we do?
We
should pray that the attackers of our brothers and sisters show them mercy,
that peace come to their lands, and that justice be served. We should pray that
they find shelter and sustenance and that they soon be allowed to return to
their homes. We should pray that they remain steadfast and persevere in the
faith of the Lord Jesus, that they hear his voice whispering to them, “Take
courage, it is I; do not be afraid” (cf. I Kings 19:12; Matthew 14:27). We
should pray that they “need no longer fear and tremble” and that “none shall be
missing” (Jeremiah 23:4).
What
is more, we should fast for them; we should offer our sufferings and
inconveniences for them; we should talk about their plight with our family,
friends, neighbors, politicians, and strangers; we should, to the extent we
can, donate to reliable groups working on their behalf. We should beg the Lord
to help us empathize with them and to know their sufferings, that we might have
“great sorrow and constant anguish in [our] heart[s]” for them (Romans 9:2). We
cannot forget them! We must remember that, like them, we are N! We, too, bear
the mark of noon because we are one
with them in Christ Jesus!
We are not isolated and we are not Christians on an individual basis, each one on his or her own, no, our Christian identity is to belong! We are Christians because we belong to the Church. It is like a last name: if the first name is “I am Christian”, the last name is “I belong to the Church.”[2]
…you cannot love God without loving your brothers, you cannot love God outside of the Church; you cannot be in communion with God without being so in the Church, and we cannot be good Christians if we are not together with those who seek to follow the Lord Jesus, as one single people, one single body, and this is the Church.
My
friends, we cannot claim to love our brothers and sisters, we cannot claim to
be members of the Church or even to be Christians without feeling their
sufferings and without doing all that we can to come to their aid.
As
we raise our cries to heaven on behalf of our persecuted brethren, may the
heart of the Lord be moved with pity for them (see Mark 6:34). May he, hearing
our cries and seeing our acts of love, stand by them to give them courage, to
refresh their souls, and to give them peace (see Psalm 23:4, 2). As our
brothers and sisters suffer in imitation of Christ, may their faithful witness make
known the merciful love of God and lead their persecutors to know Jesus Christ
whom they persecute. Amen.
[1] “This Jewish man survived Nazi
Germany. Now he’s rescuing Christians from ISIS,” Catholic News Agency, 17 July 2015, 4:02 a.m. Accessed 18 July
2015. Available at:
http://www.catholicnewsagency.com/news/this-jewsish-man-survived-nazi-germany-now-hes-rescuing-christians-from-isis-20289/
[2] Pope Francis, General Audience
Address, 25 June 2014.
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