The Persecuted Is Our Neighbor

G etting to know those persecuted for their religious faith is life-changing. To meet people whose everyday life involves the real possibility that they might be kidnapped, tortured, and/or killed simply because they are Christians or Yazidis or Uyghur Muslims is a reality in the world we are living in today. 

One of the problems is that we don’t often come to know any of these people. Their plight seems a world away. Maybe we make a donation from time to time — maybe around this time of year. But meeting people, breaking bread with people, changes things. 

Upon receiving an award for his work on religious persecution, from the Catholic Near East Welfare Association in New York City on December 13, Carl Anderson, who until recently was head of the Knights of Columbus, testified to this reality in discussing his work with Christians in Iraq who have fled genocide at the hands of the so-called Islamic State. With the support of the Knights, the Archdiocese of Erbil has built a future for their people in exile, opening a university, for example. “We have much to learn from our fellow Christians in this region, who are some of the oldest Christian communities on the planet: how they face danger, persecution, and even genocide with courage, fortitude and fidelity.” He spoke of the “radicalness” of their “Christian discipleship — what it truly means to daily pick up one’s cross and follow Jesus.” 

But, again, it is not enough to simply know this. It is not enough to make a financial contribution. It is not enough to pray for them at Christmastime and perhaps at Easter. “We should get to know them better,” Anderson implored. “We should do more to mainstream them into the life of the Catholic Church — and especially the Church in the United States,” he said. “We should make them not only brothers and sisters in the faith but also true neighbors in the faith. And do to that, we must ask not only ‘Who is my neighbor?’ but ‘Am I truly their neighbor?’” That requires time and real encounter. 

It was a day in 2015 when I was sitting next to Anderson’s colleague and our mutual friend Andrew Walther at St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome, not far from Pope Francis. The pope said: “The word ‘mercy’ is composed of two words: misery and heart. The heart indicates the capacity to love; mercy is that love which embraces the misery of the human person. It is a love that ‘feels’ our poverty as its own, with a view to freeing us of it.” 

Francis talked about the Incarnation, Christmas, and the rest of the Christian story. “‘The Word became flesh’ with the intention of sharing all our frailties — with the intention of experiencing our human condition, even unto taking the Cross upon himself, with all the pain of human existence. Such is the depth of his compassion and mercy: self-abasement in order to become a companion at the service of wounded humanity.” 

At that Mass, Walther became convicted that in the time he had left on this earth, God was asking him to devote his efforts to working with those persecuted fort their faith. I don’t remember whether it was the pope’s words exactly that inspired him, but it was exactly that kind of selfless radical giving that takes on a bit of someone else’s suffering that he devoted the next six years of his life to embodying. 

On his deathbed, just before being put on a ventilator for complications from leukemia, Andrew was discussing edits to a video on the plight of Christians in Nigeria. In contemplating the mysteries of God and life on earth, and in missing Andrew in all his wisdom, passion, faith, and tremendous love for his family, I often wonder if God allowed him to die with his beloved wife at his side so as to spare him from being killed in Nigeria for his advocacy. 

Because Andrew got to know the faith and courage of real people in some of these places, he couldn’t help but have courage, too. This is what Anderson talked about in his remarks. If you are truly committed to walking with the persecuted, they have a gift that you can receive from their incredible and yet very real witness. As you drink your coffee in the morning, perhaps whisper a prayer for a priest or seminarian in another part of the world who that same day may be killed for who he is and what he believes. Read more about what these faithful face. Visit one of their Eastern churches in America. Share in some part of their lives. 

Christmas is a time of nostalgia, for men and women who have fallen away from religious practice perhaps because of experiencing or reading too many stories of Christians behaving badly. They don’t make the headlines as often, but there are Christians in the world today choosing to live the love of Christ for their persecutors. In Iraq, Christians have been there since the earliest days of the faith. They belong there and they are needed there as leaven. 

We watched as Andrew Walther became more sensitive to the pain and confusion evil can inflict and also himself more determined to help persecuted Christians stay where they believe God has put them for a purpose. This Christmas, consider that the season is about more than Santa and trees. It’s about a God who leads us to depths of mercy that are not possible without Him. 

This column is based on one available through Andrews McMeel Universal’s Newspaper Enterprise Association.