On the night of September 23

On the night of September 23, a Sudanese and Ethiopian family from our parish arrived at the church. They had been hearing that bombing and airstrikes were picking up in the south, and they were afraid of what that might mean for Dahiyye, where they lived. Every week, the pastor of the parish, Fr. Dan Corrou, SJ , opens the Sunday mass for migrants and refugees with the words, “Welcome Home.” When they began to fear, this family remembered those words, and came to the church.

The next day, more than 70 people arrived at the church, displaced from Nabatiyeh, Sour, Saida, and other areas in the south. Many had walked for hours along clogged highways to get to Beirut. Some had had their homes destroyed in bombing and strikes. All were migrants or refugees from Africa, who had come to Lebanon seeking safety from wars at home, a better livelihood for them and their families, and a possibility of building a life in peace. Sadly, many had been abandoned by their employers, left to face bombings and destruction while those around them fled.

The families had been encouraged to come to St. Joseph by other Sudanese community leaders. Initially, we welcomed them with water, some food, and a place to sit, hoping that the new JRS social worker assisting with migrant programs would be able to find a suitable place in the rapidly opening government shelters. She spent hours calling every shelter in the country. When she finished, the social worker gave us distressing news: even among those that still had space, no shelter would take migrants. We had no choice but to become a shelter ourselves.

At first, it was the people of the parish, especially the women of the migrant community, who came to cook, care, and provide for the families that had come. Volunteers from the Philippines, Sri Lanka, South Sudan, Sierra Leone, Lebanon, and Syria came to help those who were in the shelter—migrants and refugees from all over Africa and South Asia. Quickly, JRS was able to step in, building programs for the shelters that now include activities for children and adults and connection to other vital services.

Since that first day, we have welcomed over 160 men, women, and children to shelters in both St. Joseph Church and the Jesuit Deir in Bikfaya. Some were referred on to other partners, but most are now living with us, building a community across the many nationalities, experiences, and ways of life that make up the migrant population here in Lebanon. Still, there are many on the street, and opportunities for migrants to seek shelter are very few. Not all can return home easily, and for some, like Sudanese refugees, it is usually impossible. We are doing everything we can, with partners across NGOs and relevant agencies to determine what can be done for those who cannot return and who struggle finding ways to move on.

The greatest graces have come from the communities of those who came to help—with some devoted staff even going so far as to sleep in the church, spending all day alongside those they are serving. We have two new infants, who have brought great joy to the community, and many young children who keep us smiling, even amid the strikes in Beirut and the drones overhead. Every day I think of Psalm 84, describing how in the temple of God, “the sparrow finds a home and the swallow a nest to settle her young.” Our church has become a refuge for those who have had to take flight. Our “home is by your altars,” oh God.

Michael Petro, S.J.