In the course of a visit to Lebanon, St. John Paul II famously
observed that Lebanon is more than a country; it is also a message. My visit
there last week confirmed this insight. As I look back and reflect upon the
experience of encountering the Lebanese people and learning a few things about
their beautiful country, three aspects of that “message” stand out for me.
1. Particularly striking in Lebanon is the way that faith is
woven into the very fabric of the culture. Everywhere, one can find symbols of
faith displayed quite visibly. Faith is openly practiced and one’s religious
identity and background is readily acknowledged. The differences in the belief
systems are quite marked, of course, yet the people are striving to live
together as citizens of the one country. It is not easy, I’m sure, and far more
complex than I can appreciate, especially given the rather tumultuous history
of religious conflict. Yet, they are somehow making it work. There is an
important lesson here for us. In the West we have somehow developed the strange
idea that, in order for us all to get along, we need to hide our faith, to keep
it private and not allow it to enter into public discourse. However, a
pluralistic society such as ours should be just that: pluralistic, i.e., fully
welcoming of the views and insights of all citizens, including those
perspectives that are informed by faith traditions. Lebanon teaches that it is
possible. Indeed, it should be expected.
2. Lebanon is deservedly known for its hospitality. Every time we
turned around we were offered something to drink (love the coffee!), and it
felt like every second meeting was a multi-course meal! (That’s not a
complaint, by the way. The cuisine is delicious. Who knew I would actually
enjoy eating raw goat meat? But I digress.) Yet, as I mentioned in my last blog
post, the real lesson in hospitality was given in the context not of the dinner
table but of the settlements for displaced persons. Most of the displaced are
from Syria, a country which only a few decades ago was waging a vicious war
against Lebanon. In spite of this, the border has been opened to them.
Furthermore, the presence of 1.5 million people from Syria (and that is just
the number of officially registered; the actual count would be higher) in a
country of only four million is placing an enormous economic and logistical
burden on the shoulders of the Lebanese people. This situation is not,
admittedly, supportable in the long run, and solutions will have to be found
quickly, but the readiness of the Lebanese to welcome the stranger and, yes,
the enemy to an extent that calls for great personal and national sacrifice is
extraordinary. That’s hospitality.
3. The third aspect of the “message” that Lebanon is came to me
in a rather unique fashion. The hospitality provided to our delegation extended
to assuring our safety. We travelled everywhere by military convoy. Really, you
haven’t lived until you’ve hurtled at breakneck speed along Lebanese roads or
through Beirut streets in a multi-vehicle motorcade, sirens blaring, and manned
by special forces commandos with weapons at the ready. I kid you not. One might
reasonably expect that this might have left us just a little frazzled. Yet, it
didn’t. The driving was clearly in the hands of professional and competent soldiers
who obviously knew what they were doing, where they were going, and how to get
there safely. We just surrendered to the experience, let them do the driving,
and were thus carried to whatever place we were intended to visit. On the last
evening, one of the delegation, Archbishop Christian Lepine of Montreal,
commented on the lesson in this. We need to learn to let God do the driving in
our lives. If we, by following the teachings of Christ and the promptings of
the Holy Spirit, abandon ourselves to God, who knows exactly what He is doing
and where He is leading us, then we shall arrive safely at the destiny He
intends for us.
Pope John Paul II with former Lebanese statesman. |
A typical Lebanese breakfast. |
Downtown Beirut, Lebanon. |