When I look at the dry meadows around us, this naturally raises questions about our concern for the care of God's creation, our common home. What steps can each one of us take in order to contribute to safeguarding the beauty of creation so that everyone can continue to enjoy it?

At the same time, I wonder: are we beings of thirst? And if so, what is it that we are thirsting for? Like the earth, we too sometimes have to live in the waiting for rain. But do we dare to follow our deepest thirst? If we do, it will lead us towards the One who is the Source, the One who alone can quench our thirst.

In the evening after prayer, some of the brothers remain in the church to listen to those of you who wish to speak. Some ask us to pray for someone. Others share something of their search.

At times, your questions challenge us. The questions about forgiveness, which come back so often, are among the most delicate.

We know the words of Jesus when Peter asks him how many times he must forgive his brother, and Jesus replies, “Seventy-seven times” (Matthew 18:22). We know too his call to reconciliation (Matthew 5:24). Jesus himself lived forgiveness to his very last breath and, after his return to life, entrusted this ministry of reconciliation to his friends (John 20:23).

But when a young person told me some time ago what they have had to endure in their life, where are these words to be placed? I came to understand that this was not the moment to speak about forgiveness. In the past, too many people have remained imprisoned in their suffering because they could not forgive in the way they had been told they should.

And yet, often in the silent waiting of listening, a space of freedom opens up. The miracle came when that person said of their own accord: "I would like to be able to forgive." The desire was there. A small path starts to appear. A healing begins. Only our thirst can show us the way.

 

Lyton speaks:  My name is Lyton Atwiine, and I have had the privilege of experiencing the Christian faith in two very different places: Uganda, where I was born and raised, and Algeria, where i have studied for 2 years. Living in these two countries has shown me how differently faith can be experienced, and it has changed the way I understand my relationship with God.

Growing up in Uganda, faith was simply a part of everyday life. Uganda is predominantly Christian, with a significant Muslim population as well, yet religion rarely defined our relationships. I was rarely asked whether I was Christian or Muslim because it simply didn’t matter. I grew up taking religious freedom for granted. Church, prayer, Jesus were normal things and I never imagined that my faith would one day become something I would constantly have to explain or defend.

Moving to Algeria completely changed my perspective. Christians are a very small minority, less than 1% of 47 million, spread out across the biggest country in Africa, and most of the Christians I have met are international students or migrants from other African countries. As a Black Christian, I have sometimes felt that I carry a double disadvantage. There have been moments when I have been overlooked or treated differently, and I have genuinely wondered whether it was because I was Black, because I was Christian, or because of both.

One of the biggest differences has been how often people ask about my religion. I have lost count of the number of times I have been asked whether I am Christian or Muslim. From taxi drivers to classmates, there are frequent attempts to convince me to become Muslim. Some conversations are respectful, but many are persistent, with people unwilling to leave the discussion until they feel they have convinced you. One classmate even told me that I would not go to heaven because only Muslims go to heaven. Christian life is also much more discreet, with most worship taking place inside churches and  behind closed doors. Christians being careful about how they express their faith publicly.

At first, these experiences were difficult, but over time I realised they were strengthening my faith. I often compare it to someone living in the desert: when water is everywhere, it is easy to take it for granted, but in the desert every drop becomes precious. In the same way, living in Algeria has made me treasure every opportunity to pray, attend Mass, and be with other Christians and how it feels to be a religious minority. It has taught me not only what I believe, but why I believe it. Uganda taught me the beauty of religious freedom, while Algeria has taught me the strength to persevere in faith. For that, I thank God for both experiences.

As you prepare to return home, try to reflect on what has been important for you during your stay in Taizé. It would be wonderful if you could put into practice one or two things that you have received these days.

Living our faith in daily life is not easy, but if we can find a few people with whom we can continue our searching together, that can be a great support. When we seek community in our local churches, it is not always simple, but sometimes we can be surprised to find people who want to share our journey with us following Jesus day after day. We discover a community of communities.

Tomorrow evening, please come already at 8pm to the church and join us as, like every Friday, we pray in silence for peace in our world. Among us, we have young people from Ukraine, from Lebanon and from other countries where war is raging. In our silent prayer, we would like to show our solidarity with them and listen to the intuitions that the Holy Spirit places in our hearts in relation to these situations.

Last year, when I was in Rome with some brothers for the Jubilee of Young People, a woman from Gaza approached me and asked if we could compose a song with the words from Psalm 85 “May love and truth meet, and justice and peace embrace”. This week, we have been singing a trial version of this song. Please remember those living in situations of war as you pray it.

Finally, I would like to ask Julia to tell you about something that will happen at the end of this year.

Julia:

I’d like to invite you to European meeting that will be taking place in my town Lodz.

Lodz is a city of four cultures: Catholic, Protestant, Orthodox and Jewish. I think it’s important to experience different cultures and see how others are living. I’d really recommend for you to come and see with your own eyes, there’s so much to see.

But the most important in Lodz are people, and those people are waiting for you. So see you in Lodz.