The financial crisis and the impoverishment of the Lebanese people: Testimony of Gaby Kheirallah, S.J

As you will be visiting the CJC tomorrow and seeing how the Society of Jesus in Lebanon is responding to this crisis effectively, I would like to share with you how I, as a Jesuit, experience this impoverishment of the Lebanese population on a spiritual and human level.

First of all, the feeling of responsibility: I cannot remain indifferent to the misery into which the Lebanese population has been plunged, not only as a Jesuit but also as a human being. What action can be taken to serve these people? And how can we endure a crisis whose end is not in sight but only continues to intensify?

A feeling of helplessness in the face of the magnitude of the damage. Certainly, I am supported by my religious institution, my fellow Jesuits, and my friends, but I feel deeply how the absence of a functioning state is significant, and how the scale of the damage far exceeds my efforts. And yet, it is there, in this very helplessness, that Christ is waiting for me. And it is there that I must act.

To this feeling of helplessness is added a feeling of anger and indignation at the absence of a clear statement from the Church institution regarding the greatest theft of the century, in which banks have frozen the money of their depositors. The silence of the Church leaders is heavy, even though from time to time we hear a homily condemning this state of affairs. To my knowledge, no official document has been published by the group of patriarchs denouncing this situation.

Thus, the challenge is one of hope: To maintain hope in the face of a crisis that persists and deepens; moreover, the end of the tunnel is nowhere in sight. It is not only about keeping hope for myself but also for the team around me and for the people I visit.

In fact, I visit impoverished people in their homes, especially in the Bekaa, along with volunteers. Additionally, families displaced from the south have been welcomed at the CJC that you will be visiting tomorrow. I have been present to listen to them as a priest and a Jesuit, and their testimonies are often harsh and heartbreaking.

Then comes the question: What words of hope can I offer them in the face of their misery and anxiety about the future? How can I tell them that Christ is by their side? How can I reveal to them the love and tenderness of God? And this is where the Church is expected to act.

I conclude with these words from Isaiah 40: “Comfort, comfort my people” and with the beginning of the second week of the Spiritual Exercises, in which the Trinity looks upon the world: How will it see the companions of Jesus act? And as a Jesuit, do I look upon these people as the Trinity looks upon them? I know this may seem presumptuous, but it is the grace I continually ask for.