Welcome to all of you who have come from the four corners of Europe and beyond to share Holy Week with us here at Taizé. I extend a special greeting to the young people who have come from countries currently marked by war. Lebanese and Ukrainian young people are among us and have carried, together with young people from different continents, the icons these past days at the beginning of evening prayer.

I would like to thank all our volunteers — young adults from all over — who give between one month and one year of their time to live a period of service and personal reflection here at Taizé. You gave everything you had this week so that we could welcome everyone. Thank you!

Every day this week, we have listened to the Gospel passages which tell of the final stages of Jesus's earthly life. We have drawn close to the heart of God, revealed through the gift of Christ's life for each one of us.

After his violent death on the Cross, today we are in the silent waiting of Holy Saturday. There is a very ancient tradition, recorded in the First Epistle of Peter, that Jesus descended into the realm of the dead to bring them the good news of his love. This evening, it was the icon of the Descent into Hell, where we see Christ breaking open the gates of death to take hold of Adam and draw him towards the light.

We have heard words from the Book of Lamentations — the cry of a person in suffering who turns towards God. In hearing them, we think of Jesus, but also of all those who are in pain: the victims of war and of violence of every kind.

In a sense, we are all people of Holy Saturday. Looking at our world today, we are often without answers in the face of what is happening. And yet, we sense that the human being is created for something greater. We listened as well this evening to Job’s affirmation of faith that God is alive, despite the suffering he is going through.

Tomorrow morning at 6 o'clock, we will begin the reading of the texts of the First Testament outdoors, which speak to us of the creative and liberating power of God — from creation, through the liberation of his people from slavery, to the promise of new life after destruction. We will come to understand how God has always been on the side of those who are in pain.

We live in the expectation of that peace which Christ breathed upon his friends on the evening when God raised him from the dead — a peace which sets us free and opens the path towards a communion where we are all brothers and sisters, whether we are believers or not.

My name is Mariia, I am 24. I came from Ukraine, and I’m a volunteer in Taize since February. It’s my first time being away from home and family for Holy week and Easter. This Holy week is truly different for me.

Yesterday, I was deeply touched. The bell. At 3.00 it started. The sound that was saying that He died. We lost him. It’s a goodbye. There is no turning point. It’s so unfair. How could this happen? Why? Everyone stopped. Freezed. Put their secondary tasks aside. and main was in focus. Silence was speaking. I was near the bells. standing with my eyes closed, hot tears were pouring from my eyes. It felt so familiar. In Ukraine each morning at 9.00 we have a national silence minute. Everything stops. To remember all who was killed, all who gave their life, so that I can live. Keep your heart focused on main things. Human things. Not secondary ones. As the Lord said to Martha: “You are worried and upset about many things. Only one is important. Mary has chosen the better part, and it will not be taken away from her.” This is my call for solidarity.

At the end of this year, our European meeting of young people will take place in Łódź, Poland — a city at the crossroads of four cultures: Catholic, Protestant, Orthodox, and Jewish. If you are between 18 and 35, come and join us from 28 December to 1 January!

Throughout this year, my brothers will continue to visit young people in Ukraine, Palestine, Israel, and Syria. One brother recently returned from Myanmar and wrote: "The people never spoke to me about hope. No solution seems imaginable. And yet, those I met continue to commit themselves to peace and justice, often risking their lives. It is perhaps a little like the disciples who follow Christ without knowing where he is going: they follow him anyway, step by step, day by day."

Not everyone can travel to such countries, but this week I was speaking with a friend from Italy, who runs an association that is beginning to twin schools in Italy with schools in conflict zones. He told me how contact was formed between a secondary school in his city and a school in southern Lebanon, which is suffering so greatly during this time. They are also trying to establish links with a school in Sudan.

How can we seek and maintain connections with young people living where war ravages? How can we show them that they are not forgotten? The greatest trap today for those of us living in countries not at war is indifference.

Might it be possible to reflect — in our schools, parishes, or circles of friends — on how to open channels of communication with young people who cannot easily travel? Some of you may already be involved in such projects; others may find a way forward through contact with refugees living nearby.

Let us not forget either those living under oppressive regimes who are seeking justice and peace. This is how we can build bridges and makers of that peace which the risen Christ offers us — yes, become pilgrims of peace.

Before we begin singing again, let each of us softly whisper in our own language to our neighbour: "Christ is risen!" And let them respond: "He is risen indeed!"

And from tomorrow, and in the weeks to come, greet your sisters and brothers in faith with this greeting. Dare to believe in the sign of the empty tomb. Then, the peace and joy of the risen Christ will be with us all!