ONE Magazine Summer 2020

one

Summer 2020

God • World • Human Family • Church

Voices from the

Pandemic

one INTRODUCTION

4

Voices From the Pandemic from the editors

LETTERS

6

Facing Change With Courage and Vision

by Pierbattista Pizzaballa

10

Support in a Time of Crisis

by Simone Abdel Malek, D.C.

14

A Glimpse of a Distant Mountain

by Anjana Nair

18

Seeing God’s Work in Each of Us

by Omar Haramy

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Physical Distance, Social Nearness

by Jacob Mar Barnabas Aerath, O.I.C.

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A World Without an Embrace

by Anahit Mkhoyan

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Pain, Prayer and Hope

by Teshome Fikre Woldetensae

DEPARTMENTS

34

Focus on the world of CNEWA

by John E. Kozar

t Bishop Jacob Mar Barnabas helps to distribute food in Gurgaon.

CNEWA.org CNEWA1926 CNEWA CNEWA CNEWA1926

OFFICIAL PUBLICATION CATHOLIC NEAR EAST WELFARE ASSOCIATION

Volume 46 NUMBER 2

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30

“This is not a time for indifference.”

— Pope Francis, Easter 2020

6 Front: Pope Francis prays in an empty St. Peter’s Square at the Vatican.

Back: On a pastoral visit to India, Msgr. Kozar visits young women cared for by Alphonsa Balika Bhavan, an institution run by religious sisters in Trivandrum.

Photo Credits Front cover, CNS photo/Vatican Media; pages 2, 24-25, Rev. Fr. Mathew Vadakkekuttu; Pages 3 (top), 3 (far right), CNS photo/Paul Haring; pages 3 (upper left), 22, 34-38, back cover, John E. Kozar; pages 3 (upper right), 29, Caritas Georgia; pages 3 (lower left), 10, 12-13, Roger Anis; pages 3 (lower right), 6, 8, Latin Patriarchate of Jerusalem; pages 4-5, CNS photo/Yara Nardi, pool via Reuters; page 9, EMMANUEL DUNAND/ AFP via Getty; page 14, Anjana Nair; page 16, Arvind Yadav/Hindustan Times via Getty; page 17, Str/Xinhua via Getty; page 18, Omar Haramy; page 20 (top), Sabeel, courtesy Shoruq Organization; page 20 (bottom), Musa Al SHAER / AFP via Getty; page 21, Luay Sababa/NurPhoto via Getty; pages 26, 28, Antonio di Vico; pages 30, 32-33, 33 (top right), Petterik Wiggers; page 33 (top left), MICHAEL TEWELDE/AFP via Getty; page 39, Paul Jeffrey.

Publisher Msgr. John E. Kozar

26 Editorial Staff Paul Grillo Deacon Greg Kandra Michael J.L. La Civita Elias Mallon, S.A., Ph.D. J.D. Conor Mauro Timothy McCarthy ONE is published quarterly. ISSN: 1552-2016 CNEWA Founded by the Holy Father, CNEWA shares the love of Christ with the churches and peoples of the East, working for, through and with the Eastern Catholic churches.

Working with the Holy Father, CNEWA is bringing urgent aid to those most in need during this pandemic Join us in this historic global effort And spread “the contagion of hope”

CNEWA connects you to your brothers and sisters in need. Together, we build up the church, affirm human dignity, alleviate poverty, encourage dialogue — and inspire hope.

Officers Cardinal Timothy M. Dolan, Chair and Treasurer Msgr. John E. Kozar, Secretary, Msgr. Peter I. Vaccari, Assistant Secretary Editorial Office 1011 First Avenue, New York, NY 10022-4195 1-212-826-1480; www.cnewa.org ©2020 Catholic Near East Welfare Association.

All rights reserved. Member of the Catholic Press Association of the United States and Canada.

Visit cnewa.org/covid-19 to give or call 1-800-442-6392 (United States) 1-866-322-4441 (Canada)

Voices from the

Pandemic

O

n an evening in March, as we found ourselves in the grip of a global pandemic, we witnessed an event that seemed to capture the uncertainty of a world on the brink.

As night fell, Pope Francis, a solitary figure in white, walked through a rain-dappled St. Peter’s Square. In the gathering darkness, he looked out on an empty square and prayed.

The Holy Father, leader of a billion believers, was utterly alone.

We realized we were watching more than a man at prayer; we were glimpsing history in the making: his and ours.

“For weeks now it has been evening,” he said. “Thick darkness has gathered over our squares, our streets and our cities; it has taken over our lives, filling everything with a deafening silence and a distressing void that stops everything as it passes by; we feel it

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in the air, we notice in people’s gestures, their glances give them away. We find ourselves afraid and lost.”

In the days before this event, the Holy See had described it as a moment of prayer that would be “extraordinary.” It was — in every sense. But so is this moment we are living in now.

Months later, we are confronting a world far different from the one we knew. Some cities remain in lockdown. We have changed the way we live, work, teach, pray. The death toll continues to climb and we live now with “social distancing” — grieving alone, worshiping from afar, watching Mass on a computer or a phone.

The world has changed. And that includes the world of CNEWA. In March, we shut down our headquarters office in New York City. We began working remotely, most from our homes. Our regional

offices around the world also had to close. For the first time in decades, we found ourselves cut off from the people we serve — disconnected from those most in need of connection: the homebound, the orphaned, the isolated, the sick.

But soon, our partners in the field, defying every known risk, were venturing out. They visited the homes of the elderly, the sick or the poor. Wearing masks and gloves, sisters and priests and volunteers were bringing supplies to those in need, everything from medicine to food to simply a loving glance or a tender touch. We realized, with a humbling clarity, that while the world was trying to contain the coronavirus, nothing could contain the Gospel. Love could not be stopped.

That, in essence is the very message contained in this special summer edition of ONE. This

edition is an attempt to offer what one person has described as the truest definition of journalism — that is, “the first rough draft of history.” It is a shared history, ours and yours, during a time of unprecedented anxiety.

It is also, we found, a time of unvarnished hope.

This is the hope that is bound inextricably to love — the love that, St. Paul told us, bears all things, believes all things. It is a love that cares for others, even in the most difficult of circumstances. It never fails.

In these pages, you will find all that expressed in “Voices From the Pandemic.”

Together these comprise what we believe is a chorus of faith, hope and love.

They are voices from many backgrounds, many walks of life.

But they tell stories that the world has not yet heard, from places that newspapers and magazines often

overlook, involving people whom society too easily skips over or forgets. These are people who do not usually have a place to share their stories with you.

But they do now; you are holding it in your hands.

There are so many stories to tell, we soon realized they cannot be limited to just 40 pages, so we decided to extend this series to all our social media platforms. We are sharing “Voices From the Pandemic” as a regular feature on our blog, on Facebook, on Twitter and on Instagram.

In many ways, telling these stories has been a labor of love, underscoring our commitment to sharing stories of lives from CNEWA’s world full of courage and tenacity and hope.

It is a story — one that is, of course, far from over.

CNEWA’s work with those affected by this crisis has just started a new chapter. In April, Pope Francis called on the world to remember those most vulnerable to the ravages of the COVID-19 pandemic.

In his Easter “Urbi et Orbi” message, delivered “to the city and the world,” the Holy Father said: “This is not a time for indifference, because the whole world is suffering and needs to be united in facing the pandemic. May the risen Jesus grant hope to all the poor, to those living on the peripheries, to refugees and the homeless. May these, the most vulnerable of our brothers and sisters living in the cities and peripheries of every part of the world, not be abandoned.”

And he followed suit by establishing a COVID campaign. In solidarity with the Holy Father, CNEWA has partnered with the

Holy See’s Congregation for the Eastern Churches, delegates and nuncios of the Holy See, local church superiors, and religious and lay leaders, launching a campaign to help address the urgent needs of those we serve in the Middle East, Northeast Africa, India and Eastern Europe. All funds raised through this effort are going directly to COVID-19 relief — helping, in a particular way, families living in poverty, children and the elderly, as well as people with special needs, refugees and the displaced.

As a part of this, you will find an insert in this magazine with one more special “Voice From the Pandemic,” that of Msgr. John E. Kozar, offering details about how you can be a part of this urgent effort, first by offering your prayers, and secondly by considering making a gift.

Please take some time to read, too, his final Focus essay, beginning on Page 34. As Msgr. Kozar begins a well-earned retirement, he offers us some personal reflections about those he has met during his years at CNEWA — and shares what they have to tell us about the challenges we are all facing today.

Two weeks after his historic prayer service in an empty St. Peter’s Square, Pope Francis spoke to the world again at Easter, recalling the message of the Resurrection of Jesus, which is intrinsic to our mission at CNEWA, and one that sums up best our purpose in every edition of ONE. “This is a different ‘contagion,’ ” he said, “a message transmitted from heart to heart — for every human heart awaits this Good News.

“It is the contagion of hope.”

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A LE TTER F RO M J ER U SALEM

Facing Change With Courage and Vision

by Pierbattista Pizzaballa

D

ear friends in Christ, For several months, the world has been talking about COVID-19, its extraordinary impact on the public, the economic and social consequences it has brought about, and the changes it will bring to everyone’s life.

It has been said in all countries that there will be a before and an after COVID-19, that nothing will ever be as it was before. We are, however, still in the phase of witnessing the epochal change taking place, but we are not yet able to define and decipher it. We know that much will change, but not yet precisely how and how much. Perhaps only economically will we have greater clarity: We know that everything will be much more difficult, that many people are already out of work. We do not know, however, what our relationships and social attitudes will be like in the near future.

The global church has not been spared from this tsunami that has stopped the life of the world in recent months. Indeed, I would say it is the first time the church has found itself facing a situation of total blockade of this kind.

Our church in the Holy Land, for example, has experienced many wars, intifadas and periods of emergency. They were dramatic but clear situations where we knew where the danger lay. And the

church, even in those situations, has always allowed herself to be involved in the service of the poor and deprived, and never interrupted her pastoral and sacramental service. Churches have always been open for various celebrations.

Now, however, for the first time, an invisible enemy has totally stopped the life of the church; any form of pastoral care and sacramental activity has been suspended. We must recognize we were not prepared for such a situation — this pandemic is something absolutely new.

We must then ask ourselves what this entails for us believers. What are the consequences for the life of the church in general and the church of the Holy Land in particular? I can only mention a few insights, because we must recognize that we are all at the same school and we are all discovering gradually the meaning and scope of this event — including from a spiritual point of view.

I believe it can be said that this disaster, which has paralyzed the life of the church and the world, has brought us back to the truth about us: Humans are fragile. Today we can do things that until recently seemed impossible and unreachable in scientific, economic and commercial matters.

Scientific progress, in short, makes us more powerful and opens us to ever greater and wider perspectives in all areas of our personal and social lives. We trust more and more in our strengths and abilities. We feel almost invincible.

And then comes along a virus that upsets all our certainties. In just a few days, everything has either

“This new situation brings us back to the core of our faith and invites us to trust in God.”

With public processions canceled, Archbishop Pierbatista Pizzaballa, apostolic administrator of the Latin Patriarchate of Jerusalem, blesses Jerusalem with a relic of the True Cross on Palm Sunday.

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Archbishop Pierbattista visits the sick in Jaffa.

collapsed or been called into question — the entire global economic system, including global trade and finance; international, personal, social relations; and more.

Fear has taken over from that sense of power. We have lost trust, we are afraid of all forms of contact and, above all, we are afraid of what the future holds for us — full of uncertainties for health, work, children, parents. Confidence in our own strengths is called into question and we suddenly feel helpless.

This new situation brings us back to the core of our faith and invites us to trust in God. It has been all too easy to set aside our faith in the providential and all-powerful God. We thought we were the only architects of our destiny, that we did not need anything or anyone else. The reality is not so; we need God because alone we are lost.

And the awareness of God’s presence in the lives of human beings and the world also leads us

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to understand that nothing is impossible for God — he does not abandon us.

These days, moreover, we have been wounded precisely in what is dearest to us — our relations. One would say the Lord took them from us, to give them back renewed.

Perhaps the Lord is working to purify us of what is possessive and violent in our relationships, and to tell us we can choose to support each other or be selfish. The isolation and solitude of these days can teach us that it is possible to change direction, starting a path of conversion, understood as a return to the Word of the Lord. Most people are forced to remain without the Eucharistic celebration, the heart of the church. In this painful moment of fasting, we can perhaps perceive a call to rethink and recreate our family relationships — to re-establish the domestic church in the light of the Gospel, which shows us in the gesture of Jesus, who washes the feet of his disciples, the way to heal our relationships in order to resume community life

with a new spirit, with more humility.

We must ask the Lord for an Easter insight, a new vision on the present. I am convinced, in fact, that the void that touches us in these days is not simply the absence of people or things or habits, but rather closely resembles the void of the sepulchre of the Lord. As on that first Easter morning, the disciples were led to understand that it was not a matter of absence but of a new mystery of life. The Easter announcement that flows from Jerusalem also leads us to believe that a mystery wants to reveal itself to us, a new word wants to be born from this silence.

I, therefore, believe we will all need, in the days and months ahead, a renewed capacity for contemplation — we will all need a new vision. It will not be enough, and perhaps it will take more than courage alone to face the inevitable difficulties and the announced human, social and economic crises that this tragedy will provoke.

Courage thrives on vision and

perspective; otherwise, it is only the exercise of a muscle that gets tired before long. Vision is what we need: the ability to see, through pain and death, the new things that God creates and recreates.

We will also need a vision for the future of our communities and for the resumption of the church’s many pastoral, educational and social activities in the world and in the Holy Land.

One of the few certain factors of this period is that we will all be poorer, we will be less able to travel and with more difficulties. Borders will no longer be as open as they were before the outbreak of this pandemic. All this will have clear consequences on the lives of our ecclesial communities in the world and above all for our Christian community in the Holy Land.

The Christian pilgrimage is part of the identity of the church of the Holy Land. Our holy places attract believers from all over the world, creating countless relationships between our church in Jerusalem and the churches in the world, of

any confession. It is also a source of support for many Christian families and many Catholic institutions.

We will need to find a new way to cultivate these relationships that, as I said, are constitutive of our identity, but also to find alternative forms of support for the institutions and families that have worked in that sector.

We will need to prioritize ourselves, to review with the courage of vision what we do and ask ourselves what is essential and what is not.

It is not just about making an economic and financial plan for our activities. It will come later. First, we will have to ask ourselves what is essential to us, what we cannot give up, what builds and sustains our being believers. In other words, it is necessary to establish evaluation criteria on which to base our vision of the near future. The Church of Jerusalem has a clear reference for defining such criteria. The Liturgy of the Word of the solemnity of St. James, the first bishop of Jerusalem, reminds us: “Faith, if it

Archbishop Pierbattista walks past sanitation workers in Jerusalem’s Old City on his way to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre to celebrate the Easter Sunday liturgy.

has no works, is dead. … Show me your faith without the works, and I will show my faith by my works.”

(James 2:17-18).

Which of our works, in content and in the way we do them, testify to our Christian faith? Not to proselytize, but to testify who we are by our life and our deeds.

If we want to build our community on the rock (Mt 7:25), we need not only to listen to the Word of God, but to put it into practice. The word that does not become life — that does not transform into concrete and tangible reality — is sterile.

Here is the point! We will need to rethink our future radically, and we have an ancient and ever-new reference: not works that announce our power, but a faith that becomes a gift of life through our works.

Will we have the courage for such a vision? n

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A LE T T ER FRO M EGY PT

Support in a Time of Crisis

by Simone Abdel Malek, D.C.

I

n Egypt’s ancient city of Alexandria there is an area called Saba Banat (“Seven Girls”), a quarter associated with the arrival of seven religious sisters who, in 1844, established a new mission dedicated to their founder, St. Vincent de Paul. I am Sister Simone Abdel Malek, a Daughter of Charity, and I work within that mission that today includes a school, an orphanage, a dispensary and the sisters’ community.

Our modest 4,300-square-foot dispensary provides medical services to some 800 patients a day — and sometimes as many as 1,000. We serve those who live in such economic poverty they cannot afford the cost of medical services.

Here, however, they have access to ophthalmology, physical therapy, dentistry, cardiology, pediatrics, orthopedics, dermatology, radiology, ultrasound examinations, laboratory testing and more. And thanks to CNEWA’s support, we have upgraded the dispensary’s dentistry and ear, nose and throat facilities, providing better care to our patients.

The coronavirus has arrived in Egypt, striking a fragile health care system and infecting a population already struggling to cope with a long-troubled economy. There is a shortage of doctors, nurses, drugs, medical supplies and beds, leaving the health care system ill-equipped to manage a fast-moving

and highly lethal pandemic. Should COVID continue its rapid spread, we fear it will be only a matter of time before the health crisis becomes a political one as well.

Tens of thousands of poor families have been affected in Alexandria by the closing of all shops and markets, schools and universities. Losing their only source of income — especially among day laborers — has made it impossible for families to buy essential goods or pay their household expenses, such as electricity bills, water and gas, rent and even required medications. Governmentimposed quarantines and curfews have curtailed access to necessary supplies — masks and disinfectants — which are difficult to find and expensive, too.

As we live through this nightmare, which we share with much of the whole world, we Daughters of Charity have come together to support those whose poverty deepens. We began distributing food packages to orphans, lonely elderly men and women, the ill, the unemployed, and more. We assisted in the distribution of food coupons to those families most in need, typically between 100 and 200 Egyptian pounds, or the equivalent of $6 to $12 U.S. dollars, for items such as bread, meat, fish or medicine not available in our pharmacy. Moreover, we issued medications for chronic illnesses, and even blankets to those who have none.

Throughout this pandemic, we have been preparing hot meals for all our employees, who for the purpose of precaution have been divided into

“Our joy and trust in the Lord in the midst of this pandemic will help show the path for doing the same in all our works.”

A certified nurse, Sister Simone Abdel Malek leads the Daughters of Charity community in Alexandria and directs the Saba Banat dispensary.

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two groups, each coming three days a week.

At the school, employees and teachers are being paid their full salaries, even if they no longer work full time at school; teachers come in groups according to classes, prepare their materials with the principal and the sisters and publish it on the school’s website.

From time to time, teachers use social media to reach out to their students, providing instruction, counsel and hope. Unfortunately, many of our poor students do not

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have access to a computer or the web at home, so instead they come to the school in very small groups, where a teacher is always available to help them with their studies and homework.

Our community of sisters has intensified their hours of prayers for the salvation of the whole world. They pray for the departed who have succumbed to the virus and those people who continue their battle; for their loved ones who are quarantined, and thus separated from one another; and

for those who are afraid and anxious, so God may give them the strength to overcome these hard times.

We have prepared many recreational sessions for the sisters in order to improve their state of mind, so they will respectively help and reassure others, and never lose sight of God’s will. We also send text messages through all social media platforms to our employees, friends and all those who need words of encouragement and reassurance.

Sum audit acea consed ut qui omni ommolut omni ommolut volor ad ute te volor ad ute poritio te.

Due to the situation, we have limited access to the dispensary — especially by our aged sisters — so as to prevent the spread of the virus.

On the dispensary premises, only recently have we received someone who tested positive with the coronavirus. The 35-year-old-woman had only mild symptoms when our medical personnel administered the P.C.R. test. When we reviewed the results, we transferred her to a hospital immediately, as our dispensary lacks the preventive equipment and isolation rooms

necessary to treat patients with the virus. Knowing the difficult financial position of her husband, who is also quarantined and following all protective measures related to COVID-19, the dispensary has covered all her medical expenses at the hospital, where she is recovering.

We, the Daughters of Charity, are following the words of God, giving our own personal goods to help the poor, no matter their faith. This social-distancing situation will help us be at our best when society begins to reopen — for ourselves,

Sister Simone Abdel Malek conducts daily rounds at the Saba Banat dispensary.

our families, our friends. Our joy and trust in the Lord in the midst of this pandemic will help show the path for doing the same in all our works. We all have our roles — we can show the love of God, our creator, by the way we live our lives. Thus, our role is to help people to see better, to trust more and to know peace where anxiety may be running out of control. n

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A LE T T ER FRO M I NDI A

A Glimpse of a Distant Mountain

by Anjana Nair

L

ast week, my daughter’s teacher forwarded a short video on how to grow microgreens and suggested the kids try it at home as they wait out the coronavirus lockdown. My daughter enthusiastically followed the instructions and watched every hour to see how her little plants were faring. The promised one-week time frame was over today and she was disappointed that the stalks were nowhere near as grown or as lush as the video promised.

“Wait for a few more days,” I suggested, pointing out the little tendrils with their tightly clenched fists that were sure to open up into bright greens in just a few days more. But she had lost interest in the endeavor because the plants had not adhered to the deadline.

But then, that is what the world in the “normal” days trained her for — discipline, structure and, yes, a sense of hurry. Nothing in nature, except for humankind, has the kind of impatience we live with on a minute-to-minute basis.

And yet, over the last two months, we have learned to pause. And wait. Wait for the pandemic to pass. Wait for the world to heal. Wait for life to return to what it used to be.

As I write this, around four million people worldwide have been infected with the dreaded coronavirus and more than 250,000 have lost their lives. In my own state of Kerala in India, early

adoption of stringent measures have kept the numbers fairly low and for the last week, the numbers of newly infected patients has stayed in the range of zero to three. And yet, as United Nations Secretary General Antonio Guterres said last week, “In an interconnected world, none of us is safe till all of us are safe.”

Never before has the entire world been united in disaster on this scale. Never before has the world ground to a stop like it has now. The impossible has been revealed to be indeed possible. “From sporting events to international expositions to trade, travel and entertainment — there is nothing that cannot take a breather,” is the startling revelation this period has thrown up. Is the universe offering us a chance to take stock of our choices and clean up our act? By showing us what our world could look like — from work-at-home to online schooling to roads unburdened by vehicles — is it giving us the opportunity to shape a new normal?

In an ordinary year, this month would have been all about preparing for the new academic year that starts in June. While making sure books and uniforms were purchased on schedule, we would also have sneaked in a mini-vacation before school reopened and spent time with the grandparents.

Instead we are discussing the pros and cons of online classes, video-calling family to stay connected and making furtive trips to the terrace to get some fresh air when we are sure there aren’t too many others around.

“We have learned to pause.

And wait. Wait for the pandemic to pass. Wait for the world to heal. Wait for life to return to what it used to be.”

Anjana Nair, a lawyer and freelance writer, sits in her home in Kerala.

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As we made our first foray in over 40 days to a supermarket today, there was a sense of shock at how oddly distant the neighborhood looked — as though there was a face mask right across our sense of familiarity. At our usual store, there was the newly introduced routine of waiting in line as only five people are allowed in at a time. But what struck me with a greater sense of shock was how cold and distant the staff seemed. Perhaps it was because their nerves were wrought by the strain of working in an atmosphere of fear and anxiety.

Perhaps they felt that with the masks covering two-thirds of their faces, there was simply no point in social niceties like smiling. As with the handshake, are smiles, too, disappearing gently into the shadows?

When I talk to my children about life after COVID-19, I would like to tell them about a world that is still smiling — however else the shape of our new normal might look.

As the numbers first started to rise in our country and we wrestled with our tenuous understanding of social distancing, a couple of young filmmakers in our state took upon

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themselves the task of making short videos to educate the public on how to conduct ourselves in the face of the pandemic. One of those videos showed a young lawyer telling her domestic help she need not come in to work any longer. As the dismayed worker looks at her with anxiety, she smiles and tells her it is safer to stay home in the present climate and pays her wages in full for the rest of the month too before sending her on her way.

This struck a chord, not just with me, but a lot of people in Kerala who depend on domestic workers to run their households. For many women from economically stressed backgrounds, offering their cooking and cleaning skills in the multitude of apartment complexes that throng the city had become their lifeline to securing a sense of financial independence for themselves and their families. The prospect of losing this income would have scared them far more than the unknown virus.

I don’t know how many people took up the suggestion in that video but I am fairly certain most households did, not only because of empathy and personal equations,

Students in Kerala wear protective masks while preparing for an exam.

but also because we understand what it means to be faced with unexpected loss of jobs and incomes.

Among the states of India, Kerala has among the highest percentage of expatriates in all corners of the world. Currently, the nation is involved in a massive operation to bring home over 500,000 of them, many with health issues and many more having lost their jobs. These workers, who have contributed immensely to the economy of their home state, now stare at uncertain futures with mountains of debts to pay off and families to look after.

Everyone in Kerala has a close family member or friend working abroad. Which is why we watch with growing concern the headlines from around the world, hoping and praying for everyone to be safe, not only from the virus but also from loss of livelihoods.

And as we keep our fingers crossed for our own people abroad, we are also witnessing the tragic exodus of thousands of migrant workers who were lured here by

higher pay and better living conditions. As a state that relies hugely on migrant labor for our day-to-day existence, we will be looking at a huge vacuum in the days ahead unless they find it in their hearts to return. We must learn to treat them with more respect than we ever have and acknowledge how their efforts have made our lives easier. Of necessity, we will hopefully step into an era of more respect for our fellow beings and more appreciation for all that they do!

With life in suspended animation all around us, we feel, with more power and depth than ever, the very human emotions of pain, fear and compassion. And when we allow ourselves to feel, it is only natural that it makes us more caring and generous. The newspapers spoke about a Hindu family in Kerala observing the Ramadan fast to show solidarity with a Muslim student they had taken in during the lockdown. In a densely populated state with a serious shortage of space, the Catholic Church was the first major institution to offer the use of hospitals, schools and colleges under its control for use as quarantine and treatment centers for COVID-19 patients. In the coastal city of Alappuzha, a local church decided to utilize funds collected for renovation to help out the fishermen of the region who had been left jobless by the lockdown. A group of 17 young priests donated blood to encourage others to do the same so the health scenario in the state would not come to a standstill. These are the instances that make one truly believe that it is a beautiful world we live in — one that deserves to be cherished with all our heart.

There is a whole new vocabulary that has entered our daily interactions. From social/physical distancing and lockdowns to “social bubbles” and “travel bubbles,” what

awaits is a life quite different from what we have known and experienced thus far. If we retain the best of what this prolonged pause has revealed to us, there is no reason why we can’t make it a better version of what we are used to. In the new era of emerging social mores, we may need to smile more with our eyes than our lips.

We may need to express more with our words and actions than through physical contact.

There are reports that villagers living more than a hundred miles away can now see on the horizon the outline of the Himalayas, India’s sentinel to the east. An entire generation has grown up in these villages, never having been aware that once upon a time their grandparents or even their parents woke up to that amazing sight every single day. Nature has shown us the difference that 40 days can make! There is much to remind us

A medical worker collects samples from a patient at a new COVID-19 testing kiosk at Ernakulam Medical Collage in the city of Cochin in Kerala, India.

that we are but a small part in a larger — much larger — scheme of things. This is not just humbling; it is also a deeply spiritual experience.

As our world has been reduced to the size and shape of a tiny cartoon-like sphere covered in spikes, our vision has grown more global than it has ever been. In the true Indian spirit of “vasudhaiva kutumbakam,” or “all the world is a family,” we stay anxious for Europe and Africa, pray for America, look with relief on China and Japan and cheer for New Zealand. For the first time in human history perhaps, we can truly say, “we are all in this together.”

Let that be the measure of our new normal. n

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A LE TTER F RO M PALEST I NE

Seeing God’s Work in Each of Us

by Omar Haramy

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t the time of writing, COVID-19 has infected globally more than three million people and killed more than 200,000. Churches, mosques and temples are closed while the worldwide economy has nearly stopped with little sign of improvement. The sick, the elderly, those who survive on a daily wage, the homeless, the unemployed and all who are already on the margins of society are the worst affected by this ongoing pandemic. Even municipal and civil society institutions are struggling to keep their heads above water. It is truly a time of global crisis and uncertainty and it is tempting to surrender to fear and anxiety.

But today’s grim reality is causing something beyond a health care and economic crisis; it is also bringing about a sense of human solidarity and faith. I have experienced this myself.

I remember vividly leaving the house one day and heading toward the supermarket to buy some groceries. As in so many parts of the world, Palestine has combated COVID-19 with a lockdown; no one is to leave their house unless there is an emergency or the need to buy essential goods. Taking the necessary precautions, I entered the nearly empty supermarket closest to where I live. As recommended by the health officials, I disinfected the shopping cart and started to hunt for the items on my list.

As I moved from one aisle to another, I found my eyes distracted. I realized I was looking at the people shopping, not the merchandise on the shelves. Almost all shoppers had empty grocery baskets and shopping carts. We were all wearing masks. The masks hid feelings and expressions; no one could tell if the face behind the mask was showing a frown or a smile. The entire situation was uncomfortable.

Given the economic troubles so many are facing now, I was concerned for the people who might not be able to buy what they needed. At that moment, my mission changed; rather than buying groceries for my family, I focused on finding someone who was in need.

How could I go home knowing I was so close to people in desperate need and did not help? Does not Jesus say when you feed a hungry person, it is as if you have fed me personally?

I moved cautiously through the store, as I did not want to offend someone or hurt their feelings by offering my help. But then, as I wandered the aisles, the unexpected happened: Two different customers approached me and offered to give me money to buy groceries. They thought I was the one in need of help! I was left speechless. They repeated their questions, asking if they could help me.

“No, thank you,” I answered, “I was actually planning to ask you the same, when I saw your grocery basket empty.” With that, the conversations ended, and we went our separate ways.

“Today’s grim reality is causing something beyond a health care and economic crisis; it is also bringing about a sense of human solidarity and faith.”

Omar Haramy, a Christian of the Holy Land, works as an administrator at the Sabeel Ecumenical Liberation Theology Center in Jerusalem.

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“Life as we knew it has come to a stop. But as I have seen for myself, in my neighbors at the store and in my daughter at home, God’s work in each of us has not stopped.”

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t A family in Bethlehem’s Dheisha Refugee Camp dons protective gear. x Worshipers light candles in Bethlehem’s Church of the Nativity, following its reopening after Palestinian authorities eased pandemic restrictions. u Graffiti art near the separation barrier in Bethlehem depicts Jesus wearing a mask and a crown of thorns.

I abandoned my mission of being the Good Samaritan, did my shopping and went to my car. But as I drove back home I reflected on my experience. What did I just encounter? Was it an act of Luke 3:11? “Whoever has two tunics should share with him who has none, and whoever has food should do the same.” Or was it Mark 12:42?

“The poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a few cents.”

As we are all feeling helpless in the midst of the coronavirus, I cannot help but think about the spirit of generosity I experienced. As the writer of Hebrews 4:16 teaches: “Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.”

Our daughter, Ghada, is 3½ years old, and she has plenty of difficult questions. From her early days she was fond of bedtime stories. We have shared with her recently the beautiful stories of Advent and Lent, and the miraculous story of the Resurrection. As a result, she has learned the joy of prayer as a way to communicate with the hero of all the stories, Jesus Christ.

I discovered just how important that is during this pandemic.

Since Palestine has been under total shutdown, Ghada was forced to stay at home. She misses preschool — her friends, the teachers, the games in her

classroom. She even misses boring daily routines. As a result, Ghada prays every night to Jesus, who is all powerful and all loving, to put an end to the virus. She asks our Lord to intervene the same way he stopped the storm at sea with his frightened friends.

“Nothing is impossible for Christ,” she reminds me, assuring me with her large, black eyes.

Ghada is so certain her prayers are going to be answered that she wakes up every day at 4 a.m. and shouts, “Wake up, wake up, we will be late to school, you will be late to work!”

With eyes that are barely open, we instruct her to go back to bed, because the virus is still out there.

She shouts back and says: “See the TV, check your phone! Jesus stepped in and ended the pandemic!”

We pretend to look at the phone and tell her: “No, Ghada, the virus

is still here and we must continue to stay home and pray.”

We know the pandemic nightmare will come to an end one day, and that day we will wake up and the virus will be history. When this day comes, my daughter will feel her prayers have been answered. She reminds me of the words of St. Augustine: “Faith is to believe what you do not yet see; the reward for this faith is to see what you believe.”

It is true: Life as we knew it has come to a stop. But as I have seen for myself, in my neighbors at the store and in my daughter at home, God’s work in each of us has not stopped.

The work of spreading love and solidarity and of opening our eyes to the beauty of our faith in Jesus Christ continues unabated. n

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A LE T T ER FRO M I NDI A

Physical Distance, Social Nearness

by Jacob Mar Barnabas Aerath, O.I.C.

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t 6:15 a.m. on 1 May, the fifth anniversary of the inauguration of my eparchy, I went to the cathedral to celebrate the Holy Mass together with my priests and seminarians. I was surprised to see around 25 people at the gate. I asked them why they were standing there.

“Bishopji, where shall we go? We don’t have any other place to go. Please help us.”

After Mass, I came out and talked to them. They shared their desperate situation, their difficulties. I saw a young man and a small girl standing off a ways, and called to them.

When they came near, I realized he was blind and his daughter was guiding him by holding his hand. I also realized that both of them had not eaten properly for at least two days. I invited them inside and gave them a kit of food. I told the others I would try to help them, as well.

At that time there appeared a man in a wheelchair, who told me he is in difficulty and requested my help. I helped him also.

There are different plans and projects declared by the government for the well-being of the poor people. But there are also people who do not belong to the necessary categories for this assistance — namely, homeless people living on the streets, under the bridges, in the parks, pavements, etc.,

and people living in the slums who are migrants from many other parts of the country. The lockdown period has really broken their backbone. Day laborers have nothing — no work, no money — and they depend totally on the mercy of other people.

We started a community kitchen with the permission of the state government in the first days of the lockdown. Every day at noon, between 700 and 800 people come to the cathedral and wait under the scorching sun to get one package of cooked food.

From morning till evening, there are around 50 people in front of the church waiting for me, or a priest or a seminarian or a religious sister, so they can get one of our larger food kits.

This morning, when I was going to the community kitchen, I saw a group of people standing before the cathedral gate. The volunteer told me one lady was here for the fourth day in a row. When I inquired, she told me she is a widow and she finds it difficult to carry on. I told the others, “I don’t have enough food for all of you, but this woman is a widow and is in difficulty. Therefore, I will let her in and we will share what we have with her, and I will try to get more food soon.”

The people in the group told me, “Bishopji, please help that old lady sitting at the corner of the gate.”

I went to her and asked her where she lived. She started crying loudly. For all the questions I asked

“God has called me to radiate his love and care to these brothers and sisters without looking at their faith, caste, color, language, etc.”

Bishop Jacob Mar Barnabas Aerath of the Eparchy of St. John Chrysostom of Gurgaon-Delhi visits a health clinic in Delhi.

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t Bishop Jacob Mar Barnabas distributes supplies in Delhi. x Sister Amal and Sister Nimya of the Daughters of Mary share supplies in West Delhi.

“In this very difficult situation, if we share a little bit from what God is giving us, we can help many families and many will come to know the love of the Lord.”

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her, she answered with a loud cry.

Then I waited for some time and called her inside and talked to her.

She was also a widow, with nobody to turn to for help.

When I returned to the gate, a middle-aged man came to the front, making very little sound. I realized he was deaf. The group did not object when I invited him inside as well.

I made arrangements for all three to receive some food. The others agreed that they would wait.

These people standing in front of the cathedral make me think of the meaning of the mission of this local church, and the meaning of my role as its shepherd. God has called me to radiate his love and care for these brothers and sisters without looking at their faith, caste, color, language, etc. They find in our cathedral a place of consolation and comfort. In my visits to the slums, which I have been doing since the beginning of the lockdown, I have the feeling the people thrust their anxieties, worries and desperation to us, and they find support and happiness in our presence. When I brought toffees to their children, they danced around me saying, “Uncle came and brought us toffees!”

The people around us do not have any other place to go. There is no mosque or temple or gurdwara [a Sikh house of worship], nor any political leaders available to hear their difficulties. The time that I spend with them every now and then gives me an inner joy that this is my God-given duty to radiate the love of the Lord to these people.

On one occasion I heard a woman exclaiming: “Bishopji, you are

doing a wonderful work; you are helping us a lot. All people in this area say you are a man of God. That is why we wait here to meet you.”

Every day up to 1,500 food packets are prepared in our community kitchen. The larger food kits that we prepare and distribute — about 33 pounds each — number a couple of thousand. We give this support in all the 13 states where we have a presence. The Delhi government has entrusted to our care about 100 blind people staying in four places. Among them are children and elderly people who are sick and need treatment. We take care of all their needs. We also take care of migrant laborers. It is a matter of joy for all of us. Loading, unloading, food kit preparation, cooking, washing, cleaning — everything is done by our priests, seminarians, two sisters and some of our lay volunteers who stay close by.

After we prepare the food, we distribute it in front of the cathedral and send the rest out for the people on the street. We try to have the same food packets for all. Then we hold noon prayer.

This has become a period of grace for all of us. This grace gives us the strength to do all the work, including the hard work of unloading three tons of food every evening.

A curfew is in force and sometimes the people in front of the church forget about it when they see me or a priest. Our volunteers have to guide them home. But many are desperate.

One person told me, “If we sit at home we will die of starvation. If we come out, we will die due to the coronavirus. Either way we have to die. We are ready for it; we don’t care.”

I asked one woman why she did not seek rations from the government. She replied: “Bishopji, I don’t have a ration card. I heard

that the government is giving food materials for all if we have any identity card. I gave 100 rupees to a nearby shop to register my name in the computer and get the receipt. I did not get any response and even my money is lost.”

Hundreds of families in the nearby slums and in our missions are waiting for our support. They totally depend on us for their sustenance. These poor people are either not eligible for benefits announced by the government or they are unable to get it for various reasons. In this very difficult

The bishop assists in packing food containers for distribution.

situation, if we share a little bit from what God is giving us, we can help many families and many will come to know the love of the Lord.

We may need to keep social distancing, but let us keep it externally only. Internally, let us instead increase our closeness with and care for one another. This internal closeness will give joy and happiness to many people, and bring us all closer to the Lord who gave his life for us. n

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A LE TTER F RO M GEO R GI A

A World Without an Embrace

by Anahit Mkhoyan

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ear friends, because the penalties for those breaking them are It was a day in time! I was driving across very high — or the effect of fear is too great. the border, leaving my beloved family in Georgians are living under intense pressure, as the Armenia to return to my beloved work in Georgia, fear of the virus affects every aspect of their economic, to be among the people who I am humbled to serve psychological, social and spiritual lives. This fear is as the director of Caritas in Georgia. Normally, the not about how many people have been diagnosed border crossing is full of cars and people. Not now. or if or how people are obeying the protocols in It was totally empty. My heart seemed to stop for a place to protect them. Rather, it is a fear of the moment as I sat behind the steering wheel and unknown, as if an invisible substance has surrounded assessed my environment. As I stepped out of the the earth. And while invisible, this substance creates car and walked to the customs office, I began to very visible distancing among people, which for our think how we as human beings think we can control Georgian — and Armenian — culture is antithetical. everything. Until in one moment, when something It starts dictating new norms that are quite artificial, uncontrollable happens, yet people follow because we become so helpless this fear has great power.

“Social distancing makes and fragile.

There are children of this all especially difficult, The border police Caritas, boys and girls who even artificial. It challenges checked my documents benefit from our many and escorted me to my social service programs, our vocation, our call to be home in Tbilisi, where I am who live at the Caritas a Christian and our very now in self-quarantine. The center, where my home is humanity.” roads were full of police located. These are “my and military personnel as children.”

Before the the town of Marneuli, which is located along the pandemic, every time I saw them, they would run way from the frontier to the Georgian capital city, to me, hug me, talk to me. And that meant so much. remains in lockdown. The police escort and the This time, after being with my husband and military check points reminded me of the war daughters in Armenia, and escorted by the police to movies I had watched as a child. ensure my quarantine in Tbilisi, I had to escape my The number of Coronavirus cases is not very high children to avoid contact. But they were hesitant to in Georgia, largely due to the severity of the approach me; they had been warned already of the containment measures imposed by the government. danger of approaching me.

Culturally, the Georgian people are not known as To be “dangerous” is not a pleasant feeling. It was generally submissive or compliant. But now they awkward, and my heart skipped a beat for another are observing the rules and protocols, perhaps moment that day.

Put simply: I cannot hug my children. We cannot Anahit Mkhoyan, directs the charitable activities of embrace; we cannot approach one another closely; Caritas Georgia. we have to wear protective gear when interacting,

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“We have learned that, at the end of the day, everything is in God’s hands — and not in ours.”

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tx Caritas Georgia’s work includes the operation of centers where guests can socialize, take classes or enjoy a meal. u A Caritas team prepares supplies for delivery to those in need.

and keep distance, distance and more distance. Yes, it is important to follow the protocols, but a Caritas vocation calls for us to be close, to listen, and to be present physically, remaining with those who suffer.

But social distancing makes this all especially difficult, even artificial. It challenges our vocation, our call to be a Christian and our very humanity. Our only consolation is knowing that, by observing these protocols, we are caring for and protecting one another.

When members of the Caritas team — volunteers and staff — deliver food to the doors of those men and women who once came to our soup kitchen, they have to leave as soon as possible. When our nurses enter homes to check on the well-being of our elderly or special-needs patients, they must be fully covered. Our patients barely recognize their caregivers under their protective gear.

I hope they do not feel as I did when the doctor at the border checked on the status of my health before permitting me in the country: I had this weird feeling of not being safe to others.

To minimize the fear and the awkwardness, we have taken some of our activities online. This is not a problem for our administrative work, but creates real challenges for our pastoral activities. As our current president, Bishop Giuseppe Pasotto, Latin Catholic apostolic vicar of the Caucasus, wrote in his letter to Caritas: “All of this is the first time for all of us. This is a new experience … that is forcing us to live our vocation, our service and our relationship with God and

with our brothers and sisters in a surreal way.

“A church cannot exist without relationships, contacts and surroundings. We miss being ‘summoned.’ ” Yes, we miss being summoned greatly. We miss being in our churches. We miss the sounds of our sacred liturgies, the sweet scent of incense and the power of prayer in unity. And we miss receiving Jesus in the Eucharist.

Nevertheless, there are lessons to be learned from this. We have started to value things we have always taken for granted — the simple things we used to carry out but now find so difficult to implement. We have learned that so many things we once considered important are in fact so unimportant.

We have recognized that those we once pushed aside in the regular pace of life are the most important to us. In these days our most constructive fear is the fear of losing them, and this pushes us to show and tell them how we love and charish them.

We have learned that, at the end of the day, everything is in God’s hands — and not in ours.

The charism of Caritas is the belief that every human being is of value, and that we have to serve them unconditionally. Now is the moment, when times are uncertain and fear grips our hearts, that we serve the poorest of the poor, trusting in the mercy and love of God, and clinging to the hope that all this will come to an end soon. n

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A LE TTER FRO M ET HI O PI A

Pain, Prayer and Hope

by Teshome Fikre Woldetensae

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here is so much pain and confusion around the world. The coronavirus pandemic has caused panic. Under lockdown, people remain in their houses, and their spiritual, social and economic lives have been seriously affected.

All of us are feeling confused, discouraged and indeed frightened by the coronavirus and by the attempts to prevent its transmission. The news is so disturbing, we worry. We don’t know what lies ahead. Churches are closed and priests and faithful are detached, with Catholics and Orthodox Christians bereft of the sacraments. People are hungry for Christ present in the elements of bread and wine. Priests celebrate the Holy Eucharist, but in empty parish churches.

In Ethiopia many people do not have access to electricity and the internet, so it is difficult to livestream religious services. People feel the importance of prayer and they are crying to God. The closure of the churches for the public may be God’s way of asking us to return to our roots, to the very meaning of what it means to be church. It invites us to a make faith-filled effort to believe that in God we live and move and have our being. No door can be closed to our reaching God and to God reaching us.

The first action taken by the Catholic Church after the coronavirus arrived in Ethiopia was to immediately close the schools. The Catholic Bishops’ Conference of Ethiopia issued guidelines to be implemented in all institutions and parishes. In the first two weeks, religious functions were not suspended, but other protocols — such as social distancing and the washing of hands upon entering churches — were applied strictly. Some changes made to the liturgical norms were a shock for many Catholics. Personally, I found it difficult to explain to our people why we had to take such precautions in response to COVID-19.

Also, we have been advising people to stay at home to be safe. But this has been difficult, since many families need to bring bread home every day.

Priests, religious men and women and other pastoral ministers are engaged in intensive prayer and spiritual guidance for the faithful. After practicing social distancing principles in churches for two weeks, it was decided that the churches should be completely closed in consultation with all religious confessions and the government. Once the decision was made to close churches, priests continued to offer daily Mass on behalf of the community. Bells continue to ring to remind the faithful of the main prayerful moments of the day: morning, midday and evening prayer.

Once the government declared a state of emergency, leaders of all religious confessions declared a month-long period of prayer, so that the faithful could cry to God for the eradication of

“I’ve had some sleepless nights. Celebrating Mass in an empty church and listening to peoples’ fear and anxiety all make me cry.”

Abba Teshome Fikre Woldetensae, a priest from the Eparchy of Emdibir, serves the Catholic Bishops’ Conference of Ethiopia as the deputy general secretary and director of its national pastoral commission.

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“The closure of the churches for the public may be God’s way of asking us to return to our roots, to the very meaning of what it means to be church.”

COVID-19.

The government, together with the media, agreed to provide television air time for religious services for all religious denominations. This has created a very important means to reach our faithful. It helps them to trust in God and regain their hope by listening to the word of God and uplifting homilies broadcast publicly.

All forms of social and traditional media are used to reach our communities. Priests and sisters have collaborated in organizing prayer services from different convents and parishes. Since the Catholic Church in Ethiopia does not have its own television station, using whatever media is available has become very instrumental to reach our Catholic faithful. We are grateful to CNEWA, which helped us to cover some of related costs for transmission. People of different faith communities, too, are praying together, and they are working hand in hand to combat COVID-19, mobilizing financial and humanitarian support to support poor families. Many of these volunteers are youth who are of different ethnic and religious groups.

The coronavirus has seriously affected the poor. People were supposed to stay at home, but since they need to work, they were forced to leave their houses. But the economy has also been affected by this crisis, and people are not able to bring bread home for their children. Our parishes are trying to mobilize Catholics to support poor families. These efforts have reached some of the poor, but we cannot meet all the needs since the magnitude of need is so huge.

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Besides offering prayerful support, priests and religious men and women have tried to support the local poor however they can.

Catholic health care institutions have been using all their resources to combat COVID-19. The Catholic Bishops’ Conference of Ethiopia has made an emergency appeal to all Catholic organizations, asking them for help. With the financial support we have received so far, we have provided communities with awareness about the virus, along with some protective equipment and materials that were delivered to Catholic institutions.

COVID-19 has affected all of us.

I’ve had some sleepless nights.

Celebrating Mass in an empty church and listening to peoples’ fear and anxiety all make me cry. I have intensified my prayer life, taking time to meditate and read, and following all prayers and Eucharistic celebrations televised from Vatican City. Since we decided to close our office, I have been working half days. I have tried to rest well and watch news selectively, so as not to be overly stressed. I have taken time for some recreation at home as well, which helps one keep healthy mentally, physically and spiritually. u Ministry of Health workers measure the temperature of a girl during a door-to-door screening to curb the spread of COVID-19 in Addis Ababa. uu Faithful gather to celebrate the parish feast of Holy Savior Church. y Abba Teshome Fikre Woldetensae and priests pray at Holy Savior Church.

As the lockdown is further prolonged, and restrictions of movement are enforced, low-income families who live on daily subsistence find life more challenging. This worries the church more than ever before. Yet, the spread of the virus seems to be slowing here in Ethiopia.

And so we pray, and we hope. n

t ISum audit acea consed ut qui omni ommolut omni ommolut volor ad ute te volor ad ute poritio te. x Sum audit acea consed ut qui omni ommolut volor ad ute poritio te

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Focus

on the world of CNEWA

“I’ve been blessed to see how resilient faith can be, even in places devastated by persecution and war.”

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I

n this midst of this horrific pandemic, we often refer to our modern-day heroes — from health care workers to unsung volunteers.

We have been blessed by their selfless acts of service, surrounded by kindness, compassion and dedication. As a global community, as citizens, and especially here in New York City, we continue to live through the most difficult and challenging reality we have ever faced, the ravages of the coronavirus pandemic.

In the land of plenty, many of us could never imagine being asked to endure the world we’re facing: quarantine, food shortages, food pantry lines more than a mile long, a record number of our local population now unemployed with little chance of returning to work, business after business closing up for good. The future is uncertain. We are shaken to our core, to our soul.

Where do we turn and who will help us to the “other side?” Jesus himself gave us the answer when he told us that he is “the way, the truth and the life.”

And so many of those I’ve met have embraced that answer. It has been such a privilege to be in the field with the faithful we serve: those who are poor, suffering, oppressed, hungry. I highlight the word “faithful,” as a good number of those we serve on behalf of our Holy Father and the universal church are men and women of faith. They are as heroic, in their own way, as the modern-day heroes who have given so much to us in this time of turmoil and suffering.

While we are all facing challenges at this time, perhaps a significant difference between ourselves and our suffering family in CNEWA’s world is that their lives have always been in turmoil. Their response is to seek out our Lord, who is very much their way, their truth and their life. And from their abiding faith, which has never been dimmed or extinguished by horrible realities, they manage to keep the flame of hope alive in their hearts.

I think those I’ve met have much to teach us all about faith and perseverance, especially now.

In this issue of the magazine, you find firsthand testimonies, “voices

p A young girl stands in Rouweissat Jdeidet, a neighborhood of Beirut. t Orthodox Christians, such as this priest in Adigrat are the largest Christian community in Ethiopia.

from the pandemic,” from those suffering through this time in CNEWA’s world. But their resilience and strength are qualities that I witnessed long before this crisis began. Let me share a few vignettes from my own experience. They are unsung heroes of CNEWA’s world.

Imagine a garbage dump with trash stacked like a mountain, with trucks ascending higher and higher each day, adding to the garbage — and

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yet, people actually live at the base of this mountain. This is life for countless poor families I met in Egypt. Most are Christian and most of them eke out their meager livelihood by sorting through garbage, claiming first what can be eaten, then what can be recycled and traded. They literally live on compressed garbage.

I remember walking through the neighborhood of the garbage pickers, a place swarming with flies and mosquitoes and rancid odors, and I could see mothers caring for their little ones in such deplorable conditions. One such mother, a Coptic Christian, smiled as we looked into her humble abode — made of pieces of compressed

garbage — as she was preparing something in a frying pan over an open fire. Then she greeted me with a big smile and welcomed me to give her and her child a blessing. Yet, in the midst of such squalor, there was no complaining, no turning away from her visitors.

She proudly shared with me her reassurance that Jesus was victorious over death, and she shared in that victory as she proudly showed me the cross tattooed on her wrist. Her faith was literally a part of her, and not even the squalor and struggle of her daily life could diminish it.

In India, I was inspired by the hope demonstrated among Adivasi (or indigenous) people who want to

q Msgr. Kozar chats with locals at the Martha Schmouny Clinic in Erbil, Iraq.

learn more about Jesus. In one village, the catechumens, excited about preparing to be baptized, invited the local bishop and me to bless the cornerstone of what would become their church and school. They humbled me with their enthusiasm and their pride in becoming followers of Christ. They had only the beginnings of a church — but that was more than enough!

In one indigenous tribal village in Ethiopia, the elders invited me to sit with them around the fire, after which those new to the faith led me in a “tribal pilgrimage” to their

“I thank God for the abiding example demonstrated by the poor whom we serve in the name of our Holy Father, Pope Francis. My own faith has grown immeasurably because of them.”

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simple chapel, made of thatch and grass. They welcomed me with a pride-filled sign of the cross and spirited singing. Through the humble service of religious men and women, these newcomers to our Catholic traditions were already evangelizing me, sharing their personal testimonies of faith and hope in Jesus.

This “reverse evangelization” has been a recurring reality for me as the president of CNEWA. Again and again in my travels, I have found myself not just sharing the Good News of Jesus, but receiving it from those coming in to the faith. The messenger of the Gospel becomes the beneficiary. What a blessing! q Msgr. Kozar plays with students on a visit to Atse Tekle Ghiorgis School in Addis Ababa.

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I’ve also been blessed to see how resilient faith can be, even in places devastated by persecution and war.

As one of the first Westerners to be allowed into some newly liberated towns after ISIS had been routed in Iraq’s Nineveh Plain, I saw firsthand the destruction and devastation. I was horrified by the perverse defilement of religious vessels, altars and tabernacles.

But I was inspired by the remnant faithful.

During one of my visits, a group of parishioners had just returned after almost two years of being absent during the ISIS occupation. They set about clearing mountains of rubble from a destroyed church to prepare for a celebration of the Eucharist at Easter, just a few weeks away.

Not much remained, only a small portion of an altar. For them, the celebration of Holy Mass on Easter would signal a public profession of faith and a restoration of hope.

I thank God for the abiding example demonstrated by the poor, whom we serve in the name of our Holy Father, Pope Francis. My own faith has grown immeasurably because of them. They have nurtured me and inspired me to never lose hope in the Lord — and their witness and example, I believe, can show us how steadfast faith can persevere through any crisis.

I thank them for their example.

On a personal note: As my tenure at CNEWA draws to a close, I also want to thank each of you, who have

p Displaced Christians greet Msgr. Kozar and CNEWA’s chair, Cardinal Timothy Dolan of New York, after Mass in a camp in Ain Kawa, near Erbil.

supported us with your prayers and your gifts. You have enhanced my personal faith and our mutual call to be bearers of hope. May God continue to bless you.

In these most challenging times on the home front, members of our staff have also set themselves apart as true evangelizers — to each other, to our extended family around the world and to me personally. I love all of them and thank them for their service to the church, especially toward those suffering brothers and sisters we are continuing to serve during this pandemic.

I also want to acknowledge the great leadership and moral direction given us by the chair of our board,

Cardinal Timothy Dolan, and our bishop members of the Board of Trustees. With their endorsement, the Holy See afforded me the honor of serving as president for these past nine years. Their wisdom and willingness to serve the Eastern churches has been a compass for me to check my bearings.

Finally, I am indebted to my dear brother priest, Msgr. Peter Vaccari, who becomes president of CNEWA on 1 July. More than a friend and colleague, he has offered me a profound example of holiness and priestly spirituality. His fraternal sharing of our priesthood has been a highlight for me in these months of transition. He will be a wonderful, spirit-filled evangelizer as he steers the ship of CNEWA. I know all of you will afford him your prayerful support.

Finally, in the midst of this crisis, we are reminded once again of that

great truth I mentioned at the beginning, following “the way, the truth and the life.” At CNEWA, in good times and in bad, our starting point must always be our relationship with Jesus. We respond to the needs of those we serve with our prayers and with the good works of CNEWA, made possible through the generous gifts of all of you.

Besides my own prayers of gratitude to God for each and every one of you, I add with great confidence the prayers of the poor and oppressed in our CNEWA world.

May God bless you.

Msgr. John. E. Kozar

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