When I saw the title of a recent article, “The last monk of Tibhirine,” I knew I had to read it. I suppose most folks---even religious people---do not know the word, Tibhirine. It immediately connected for me. I remembered one of the earlier spirituality books I ever read by Charles de Foucauld, founder of a monastery by that name in Algeria. de Foucauld wrote a book called, Letters from the Desert, which I enjoyed very much.
de Foucauld had been in the French army, but then had a religious conversion. He felt called to be a monk and to live among the Muslims. And so he found himself in the desert among Muslims. His life would be a living testimony to interfaith dialogue before it was even called such. I was intrigued by what people would do when they had a burning faith. He was a witness to one form of deep commitment. Others joined his movement and lived a kind of communal witness to this interfaith dialogue.
But it came to an unfortunate ending. In March, 1996 members of the Armed Islamic Group descended on the monastery and kidnapped seven monks. What they did not know was two more monks were there, but not in the same place. Sadly, the seven monks were ultimately killed and have since been beatified, part of the process of someday soon becoming saints. Indeed, the died for their faith. Even in death, their testimony lives on. They are still witnesses to a life of peace and witness.
The article I hit upon focuses on the remaining living monk who was one of two who survived that fateful March, 1996, day. The survivor, Father Jean-Pierre Schumacher is now ninety-five years old. To this day he still does not know for sure what happened. He knows the Muslim radicals have been blamed, but is also aware there is some suspicion the Algerian government was involved and, perhaps, even the French government. His commentary is brief. "One doesn't know…It's a mystery that has not been cleared up."
I find his story fascinating. He tells us life during the 1990s and the Algerian civil war was crazy. “One lived in a climate of total insecurity from day to day…” I was touched to hear him recount his own version of what today is called survivor’s guilt. Why was he spared when the others went to their deaths? Naturally, for a strong believer like Schumacher, it raises provocative theological questions---what was God up to? And it raises even more potentially troubling issues about his own humanity and faith. This is where the story became poignant for me.
He asked a couple obvious questions. "Was my heart not ready?" This is not the question of a beginner or someone who is only superficially engaged in the spiritual journey. But for him, it was a real and powerful query. Secondly he asked, "Was the lamp not lit?" I think this is a reference to the gospel parable of the Ten Maidens. They were told to be alert and be ready. I am sure he assumed he was and, then, there was evidence that perhaps he was not. That can be a body blow to the faith.
The turning point in the story for me---and perhaps for Schumacher himself--- comes with the words of a Cistercian nun writing him from Switzerland. She offered consolation in her approach to him. “She asked about his interior life and told him not to be troubled by anxiety or apprehensions — that God had taken seven men to witness to him by their deaths and left others to witness by their lives.” Those words would seem like a gift to me. And I think that is how he saw it, too.
This is how Schumacher understands his situation. “It's God who drove that history...”
Clearly, this is an affirmation of faith. He thinks God is involved in the lives and actions of people and that God cares what happens and, perhaps even, how it happens. Spiritual folks can’t prove it works this way. And sometimes, there does not seem to be much evidence that God is involved in history, but this contemporary monk gives me courage to think in some deep way God does drive history.
One last thought from Schumacher gives me more to think about. He says, “What happened to that monastery became an image for the entire world. An image of reconciliation. It's a call to all today.” It did become an image for me. Ever since I read de Foucauld, I have known that story and appreciate what it tries to tell all of us who have some sense of God. I appreciate even more Schumacher’s take on the story. The image of the seven martyrs is an image of reconciliation.
It is a challenge. The image of reconciliation is an invitation. Rather with Schumacher, it is a call. It is a call to all of us when we are called into relationship---called into a life of discipleship. It is a cruciform call---a call to live out the cross in our lives in whatever way that comes to us. This is where I share much with Schumacher. I am still one of the spared ones.
Since God drives history, what is my role and will I be obedient? Those are crucial questions.
de Foucauld had been in the French army, but then had a religious conversion. He felt called to be a monk and to live among the Muslims. And so he found himself in the desert among Muslims. His life would be a living testimony to interfaith dialogue before it was even called such. I was intrigued by what people would do when they had a burning faith. He was a witness to one form of deep commitment. Others joined his movement and lived a kind of communal witness to this interfaith dialogue.
But it came to an unfortunate ending. In March, 1996 members of the Armed Islamic Group descended on the monastery and kidnapped seven monks. What they did not know was two more monks were there, but not in the same place. Sadly, the seven monks were ultimately killed and have since been beatified, part of the process of someday soon becoming saints. Indeed, the died for their faith. Even in death, their testimony lives on. They are still witnesses to a life of peace and witness.
The article I hit upon focuses on the remaining living monk who was one of two who survived that fateful March, 1996, day. The survivor, Father Jean-Pierre Schumacher is now ninety-five years old. To this day he still does not know for sure what happened. He knows the Muslim radicals have been blamed, but is also aware there is some suspicion the Algerian government was involved and, perhaps, even the French government. His commentary is brief. "One doesn't know…It's a mystery that has not been cleared up."
I find his story fascinating. He tells us life during the 1990s and the Algerian civil war was crazy. “One lived in a climate of total insecurity from day to day…” I was touched to hear him recount his own version of what today is called survivor’s guilt. Why was he spared when the others went to their deaths? Naturally, for a strong believer like Schumacher, it raises provocative theological questions---what was God up to? And it raises even more potentially troubling issues about his own humanity and faith. This is where the story became poignant for me.
He asked a couple obvious questions. "Was my heart not ready?" This is not the question of a beginner or someone who is only superficially engaged in the spiritual journey. But for him, it was a real and powerful query. Secondly he asked, "Was the lamp not lit?" I think this is a reference to the gospel parable of the Ten Maidens. They were told to be alert and be ready. I am sure he assumed he was and, then, there was evidence that perhaps he was not. That can be a body blow to the faith.
The turning point in the story for me---and perhaps for Schumacher himself--- comes with the words of a Cistercian nun writing him from Switzerland. She offered consolation in her approach to him. “She asked about his interior life and told him not to be troubled by anxiety or apprehensions — that God had taken seven men to witness to him by their deaths and left others to witness by their lives.” Those words would seem like a gift to me. And I think that is how he saw it, too.
This is how Schumacher understands his situation. “It's God who drove that history...”
Clearly, this is an affirmation of faith. He thinks God is involved in the lives and actions of people and that God cares what happens and, perhaps even, how it happens. Spiritual folks can’t prove it works this way. And sometimes, there does not seem to be much evidence that God is involved in history, but this contemporary monk gives me courage to think in some deep way God does drive history.
One last thought from Schumacher gives me more to think about. He says, “What happened to that monastery became an image for the entire world. An image of reconciliation. It's a call to all today.” It did become an image for me. Ever since I read de Foucauld, I have known that story and appreciate what it tries to tell all of us who have some sense of God. I appreciate even more Schumacher’s take on the story. The image of the seven martyrs is an image of reconciliation.
It is a challenge. The image of reconciliation is an invitation. Rather with Schumacher, it is a call. It is a call to all of us when we are called into relationship---called into a life of discipleship. It is a cruciform call---a call to live out the cross in our lives in whatever way that comes to us. This is where I share much with Schumacher. I am still one of the spared ones.
Since God drives history, what is my role and will I be obedient? Those are crucial questions.
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