The rain has come to wash away the summer dust and quench the parched land around us. We too are thirsting for what was tired and discouraged in us to be washed away, so that renewal and meaning in our own lives, as we seek to deepen our commitments in faith and also in society, can become reality

I would like to say a heartfelt welcome to all of you who have come to share in this week of reflection on the theme of “Justice and Peace”​. I would like to say a big thank you to all who have spoken during the different workshops, Bible meditations and group meetings. Your often courageous testimonies have, I am sure, inspired many of us and planted seeds which will come to fruition in our lives in the coming weeks, months and years.

Many of you know that the words “justice and peace” come from a very ancient prayer of the People of God, psalm 85. It comes from a time when believers thought that God had abandoned them, even that God was angry with them. But the person praying understands that want counts is the desire to seek God even more, to see how God acted in history in order to hold firm in the present situation and look to the future with hope.

The person praying listens to God, hears God speaking of peace and continues by saying: “Love and faithfulness will meet, justice and peace will kiss each other.” Love, faithfulness, justice and peace imply a human response, a human commitment, which reflects the presence of God.

But what do we mean by justice and peace? In Biblical language, peace is the gift of God’s “shalom” – much more than an absence of conflict, it includes the sense of well-being and good health. This “shalom” is entrusted to each one of us to take care of and develop. Justice is the world of right relationships, where radical generosity and an understanding that we are responsible for each other as part of the same human family created to flourish in God’s creation, determine our way of acting.

When justice and peace kiss each other, another person may be different from me or have other opinions, but is no longer someone to be dominated or silenced. Is not being able to listen to someone who is different from me, to seek dialogue, to speak with people instead of about people, the means by which we can create the conditions where we can hope for a future of just, sustainable and fair peace?

In the Kingdom of God shown in the Gospels, Jesus embodies the world of justice and right relationships. Jesus overturned the tables in the Temple and spoke against religious hypocrisy, as if he wanted to put his own house in order first of all. But he was also able to meet both a Pharisee and a Syro-Phoenician pagan, to listen to them and allow himself to be challenged by them so that they might enter into the beauty of a life of communion. He sat at the well with a woman from a nation looked down upon by his own people. He healed the child of a member of the occupying army.

Jesus welcomed the crowd when his friends said it was impossible, so that they had enough to eat. He recognised how great was the gift that a widow put into the Temple treasury. He shared table hospitality with people excluded from religious and civil society. He washed the feet of his loved ones. He called the one who was to betray him ‘friend’ and maintained his trust in the one who had denied him. Is this not how Jesus shows us the right relationships of justice? Is that not how he took the risk of establishing peace with people who were different?

There is a danger that we become locked in our own opinions and can no longer see beyond them. We risk becoming the prisoner of our own algorithm and caught ourselves up in polarisation. Are we ready to step outside of our own box to let ourselves be challenged by the other?

We weep at the injustice in our world. We see the pain of the Palestinian people, at the continual non-respect of their human rights and dignity. We see famine, death and destruction in the Gaza Strip and harassment in the West Bank. We see what is happening in Ukraine. We must not forget the killing fields of Sudan or the suffering of the Haitian people. We remember all who are held hostage against their will. We must also remember people who are struggling for justice in countries where governments promote war. Gender-based violence and our wounded creation need our full attention.

But we have also to recognise the violence that exists in ourselves. It is so easy to demonise people, even whole nations. Then we risk being sucked into a spiral of violence and even perpetuating it. Do we not need to let ourselves be bathed in the peace that the Risen Christ promises each one of us? The Holy Spirit will lead us on the path where we can make courageous decisions and become, as Brother Roger said, violent for peace. It can be tempting to leave the path of the Gospel, because at time what it asks of us can seem impossible. But is not true hope knowing that the light can shine in the darkness and that the love of God can win through simple gestures of human goodness? This can free us to act.

This week, a young woman from Barcelona reminded me of someone called Anastasia who was here last year. She was Ukrainian and we met together here in the church. She told me that having completed her medical studies in England, where her family had lived for a number of years, she had decided to return to her home country to serve those who are most in need. Anastasia works in a field hospital near the front. Please pray for her.

And please pray for one of our volunteers, Jenner, who returned home to Nicaragua this week after three months in Taizé. The situation in his country is very difficult.

What are the courageous decisions we are asked to make, each at our own level, so that love and faithfulness can meet and justice and peace can kiss? How can we support each other in that?

With me is Raúl, an anaesthetist from Spain, who has spent the last months working in the Nasser Hospital in Khan Younes in the Gaza Strip, which was bombed three days ago leading to the death of 20 people including 5 journalists. We have known each other for a long time, but I met him last in Sidon, Lebanon, just before Christmas, where he was working with those wounded in the bombing of towns and villages in the south of that country.

Raúl:

Imagine the loneliness of a little girl who has just suffered an explosion. In her mind, there is only a horrible roar; she has no capacity to understand what has just happened to her. Her body is paralysed by fear, and it is very likely that her body is also paralysed by the rubble of the building that has fallen on her, causing her pain. Her entire skin will be covered with the grey dust of cement.

Fortunately, this little girl may be taken to the hospital by an ambulance or by a donkey pulling a cart. At the hospital, there will be a great commotion caused by the other injured victims of the bombing, and this girl, who is fortunately not very seriously hurt, will be placed on the ground because there are not enough stretchers for everyone, and she will remain alone, unattended, because there are not enough healthcare workers to attend to her, who, thank God, is only slightly injured. She will be alone, completely stiffened by anxiety, looking around in disbelief. It’s possible that no one from her family has survived. This often happens in Gaza.

After a while, when the more seriously injured have been attended to, a nurse will approach her, tell her "Don't worry, everything will be fine," dry her tears, and stroke her hair. She will examine her body and dress her wounds. She will give her something for the pain. In every act of this nurse, there will be immense love, exquisite tenderness, and great comfort.

And the girl will slowly begin to feel better. Her muscles will start to relax. Her recovery will begin. She will start to heal at the moment when, amidst so much fear and senseless violence, someone - a kind face, a familiar voice - recognizes her and offers her comfort. Being recognized will give her the strength to recover.

There are twenty thousand orphans in Gaza. Hopefully, this little girl will not be one of them. If her parents have died, her recovery will never be entirely complete, never fully.

The people of Gaza are like this girl. They feel alone, abandoned by the hand of God. Abandoned by the countries with which they share cultural and religious ties, abandoned by the leaders of Western nations where the bombs that kill and wound them are manufactured. They also feel a certain shame because, from the outside, it is said that "all Gazans are terrorists," and they are unjustly labelled as guilty. It is the same shame felt by victims of rape. But they are not guilty; they are victims.

Most of them have been forcibly displaced, and their homes have been destroyed. Their cultural, educational, religious, and medical infrastructures have been razed. The Israeli army has killed nearly 70,000 of them through direct attacks, from a population of just over 2 million, though the most accurate estimates suggest the death toll could reach 200,000. Over 140,000 have been wounded, including more than 17,000 children. These numbers continue to grow. The vast majority are civilians - people just like us.

Let us pray that our leaders cease promoting this violence, that they stop selling the bombs that kill and wound these innocent lives. Let us pray that they come to see them for what they truly are - human beings. Let us pray that, within the hearts of these leaders, a crack of compassion may occur.

We should also pray that we put aside our ideologies and polarization, and recognize together that human rights are being violated in Gaza. Human rights should not be subject to opinion or debate. Finally, let's pray that all of us can recognize the people of Gaza and find ways, in our homes, communities, and workplaces, to stand by them and denounce, through non-violence, the crimes being committed against them. Just as that nurse was by the side of the wounded little girl, let us be with them. Only then can their recovery begin.

Raúl, when we met in Sidon, you said that you wanted to go back to Gaza, where you had been some time before. You found the means to do this and I would like to thank you for your courage. We will remember what you said about this little girl and also about the nurse who through her attention helped her to return to life.

Tomorrow, please come at 8pm already to the church to join us as we pray like every Friday evening for peace in the world. Our prayer is in silence, but is a small sign of solidarity which shows that we do not forget the people of the Gaza Strip and West Bank, of Ukraine, of Sudan and Myanmar, of Nicaragua.

On Sunday, as we enter into the Season of Creation, the Eucharist will be that of Creation. We will decorate the choir of the church to mark this. From September 1 to October 4, the feast of St Francis, our different Churches invite us to give thanks for God’s Creation and to understand how it is entrusted to our care.

Next week, I will leave for Cuba. I will visit our brothers who live there already since some years​. It will also be an opportunity to share in the life of the sorely tested Cuban people, to discover their joys and their challenges.

Finally, I would like to invite you all to Paris and Ile de France for our annual European meeting which will take place from December 28 to January 1​. Coming together from different countries, backgrounds and Churches, can this meeting be a sign of hope for peace in our fractured world? Come and join us?