My Holy Door
The priest of a parish church in Amman had invited me to celebrate the Eucharist with a number of Iraqi Christian refugees. I saw them upon entering through door of the sacristy. There were several families with their children. A father told us his story. He fled with the family from seven different places because of ISIS. They had only three options: they could either convert to Islam, be submitted and pay taxes as second-class citizens, or be killed. One of their brothers was murdered, a brother was kidnapped. The realized their only chance was to flee, in order to remain faithful to their Christian faith. What now? They can’t imagine a future
On December 8 I was present at the opening of the Holy Door of St. Peter’s. In the pontifical Chapel we all followed Pope Francis pass through the Holy Door, all of us wearing our sashes and multicolour skullcaps. However, I asked myself whether this is what Jesus wants. Indeed, all those who have passed through the Holy Door are in deep need of Divine and human mercy.
I thought about it again a few days ago, when I was in Jordan. The priest of a parish church in Amman had invited me to celebrate the Eucharist together with a number of Iraqi Christian refugees. I saw them upon entering through the door of the sacristy. There were many families with their children. One of those fathers told us his story: with his family they had fled seven times from different places, because of ISIS.
They had only three options: they could either convert to Islam, be submitted and pay taxes as second-class citizens, or be killed.
One of their brothers was murdered; a brother was kidnapped. They realized their only chance was to flee, in order to remain faithful to their Christian faith. What now? They can’t imagine a future. For the time being they found hospitality in a State that has fortunately welcomed them. But what will be the future of this father, mother, and their three children? They have no idea. Hope is relentlessly fading away.
It wasn’t the only testimony. Other refugees shared similar experiences. Their main worry now is that they don’t have a job… We all know what it means for a 30-40 year-old father to be without a job, or not having a home and being unable to provide an education to his children. A woman, who used to teach foreign languages, said she would like to go back to teaching and earn a living. They live in a state of constant, profound suffering because they refused to give up their Christian faith. What a powerful testimony! In them I saw the suffering Jesus. And I joined them in the Eucharistic celebration. Christ’s paschal mystery became concrete among us in a very strong way.
And forgiveness? They ran away from their homeland, they left everything behind them, as Patriarch Abraham. It was tough, but they no longer think about the past. They yearn for a future.
Forgiveness is not easy when the wounds are still open. When you are still in a state of torment. But celebrating the mystery of the faith – of the crucified and resurrected Christ – is in itself a sign of forgiveness.
Everyone pleaded forgiveness reciting the Lord’s Prayer, praying as Jesus taught us: “Forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors.” In that moment I didn’t have the courage to look at them. But I heard their loud voices. I was on the point of bursting into tears. What was happening in their hearts? I don’t think they prayed superficially. Those voices challenge us.
The door of that church has become “my” Door of mercy. I have seen the mercy of God that saved the lives of these families, the mercy of God that was manifested in the welcome to strangers on the part of Muslims and of the Christian Caritas. I experienced the mercy of God in the celebration of the mystery of His incarnated, crucified and resurrected Son, of a God that loves us and embraces us to grant us forgiveness when we ask for it, and even before. I felt one with these refugees in the prayer to Jesus.
The suffering is ongoing, as in the Brussels’ massacre. It’s sin, which continues to reign in this world. But there is hope. The Lord, in His infinite, tireless mercy, has opened the door to the light of the Resurrection. The door of mercy isn’t just our door of penance and contrition. It’s the door of hope that leads us to new life. When I left “my” Door of mercy in the city of Amman, I brought with me the pain of the refugees: in my heart and in my prayers.
