Giving Thanks: Week 7 in Lebanon

Well, it’s official - the girls and I have reached the inevitable point in our stay where suddenly we realize how quickly the end is approaching…only two and half weeks left before we find ourselves on a plane bound for home. I catch myself thinking about a series of little countdowns - the number of remaining meals to be shared with the Community, evenings enjoyed with our young Lebanese friends, afternoon walks through the sloping streets of Gharzouz, sunsets on the terrace. My sentimental heart always needs plenty of time to “say goodbye” to a place before leaving it, which for me involves revisiting the memories, the details, and the people, setting time aside to truly feel the gratitude that wells up from within. Such a place as this where we have lived so many beautiful, challenging, loving, purifying, and joyful moments is not easily left, but going deep into gratitude soothes the pain of goodbye and brings a beautiful closure as we transition back to home, bringing with us all that we’ve learned in Lebanon.

With Thanksgiving this week, it was a doubly good occasion to reflect and give thanks. Thanksgiving (being an American holiday) is not celebrated in Lebanon, but the Community was happy to learn more and participate in some of the traditions that we shared throughout the day. A particularly lovely moment was the time week took after dinner, everyone with mugs of hot cider and pumpkin bread, each person reflecting back on the year and sharing what they were grateful for. As we shared, listened, and helped translate for one another, I looked around at all the faces that I have come to cherish and thought about the amazing story of each one. It is striking how we can spend such a relatively short time with someone and come to love them so deeply; for me it is a testament to the true gift that is sharing life with others and having even the tiniest glimpse of the total, wonderful mystery that is another person. Of course, to live in communion with others is maybe one of the hardest, most persevering endeavors we can undertake, but is there anything more worthy of our effort?

With that, I want to share what has made up the fabric of our daily and weekly rhythm, the structure of our life here and the context in which all our growth, friendship, and fraternal life has played itself out. My intention is to (hopefully) let you see through my eyes just how special this place is and how, even though most of my readers are on the other side of the world, the story unfolding here in Lebanon is so relevant. Truly, we are all never so separated as we think ourselves to be, and I am reminded time and again how the story of someone else can so quickly become part of our own story, too.

Here is an example of what a regular week looks like at the Community house in Lebanon:

Monday: this is the rest day of the Community, so the whole house is on their own schedule for prayer, down time, etc. Every once in a while, our little group of girls will have an outing on Mondays, but usually we are simply at home, taking time to rest until we meet together for dinner. Mondays are also when the Americans (Karmyn and Anna and I) have our team meeting - we share our highs and lows of the week, pray together, and then do something just for fun. Our new favorite pastime is to read a book out loud to one another, an activity which we particularly enjoy when it’s raining outside, and we can curl up on the couch with cups of tea.

Tuesday - Thursday:
7:30am - prayer in the church (we alternate between morning prayer and Mass) followed by breakfast.
9:00am - 1pm: work time! Our work time is mostly spent helping with the duties of the house and preparing for different retreats and events that the house puts on. With all the people living here and visiting there is much to be done, especially for the kitchen, laundry, and general cleaning. For me personally, my work time also includes preparations for my leadership role with the girls, as well as making art and assisting the Community in some different fundraising endeavors.
1:00pm - midday meal, a moment where we enjoy some rest and time together. Our meal is leisurely but intentional, and we always finish with a cup of Lebanese coffee :)
2:00-pm - 5pm: after lunch, us girls (Karmyn, Anna, Julie, Claire, and I) have a teaching of some kind (topics include history and culture of Lebanon, Arabic language, the spirituality of the Community, or prayer/spiritual formation) followed by a couple hours of personal time.
5pm - 6:45pm: Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament followed by a rosary, followed by Mass or evening prayer (depending on which one we had in the morning)
7:30 - 8:30pm: dinner! We really enjoy the fraternal spirit shared at meals.
9pm - night prayer with the girls.
**About every other week, our group of girls goes on mission with the brothers and sisters - some examples would be attending a gathering of young adults, hosting a special Mass in a local parish, or volunteering.

Friday: the Friday schedule is mostly the same as Tuesday-Thursday; what’s different is that the worktime and meals are taken in silence to reverence Friday as the day of the Lord’s Passion. It is a beautiful way to enter into a small fast, inviting both meditation and intercession. The evening meal is different as well, because it includes a special office (time of prayer) for the Community; in the Lebanon they call it the “Office of the Beloved”. It is an especially rich time of prayer, one of my favorites in fact, particularly because of the music and the spirit of beauty that transforms the evening. And because we often welcome guests during this office, it is also an important moment of testimony, peace, and rest for our visitors and for each of the members of the house.

Saturday + Sunday: while there is technically a “normal” schedule for the weekend, the Community house hosts so many different retreats, workshops, and prayer vigils that we have only had one normal weekend since I’ve been here! Saturday, though, is a very similar schedule up until the evening’s big prayer vigil where we have vespers in the Byzantine style, followed by a meal and les danses de louange (praise dances). Again, this is often a time of mission where we welcome people to experience the spirit of praise that we share on Saturday evenings. Sundays usually include prayer in the morning with the Community followed by some sort of outing for the five of us foreign girls - we’re often gone for most of the day and have dinner together in our common room upon our return. It is these outings in particular where we have experienced so much generous hospitality that flows from the Lebanese people, as well as the rich and complex history of the country.

And woven into these daily rhythms and moments of normal life are small, profound moments that, bit by bit, open our eyes and our hearts to something new. This week in particular we were all marked by conversations we had with various Lebanese young people who were describing how challenging it is to remain hopeful about their future in this country. The Lebanese youth are very intelligent, creative, motivated, and full of life, but the lack of work and livable salaries, combined with the uncertainty about the country’s continued state, often leave young people feeling stuck and discouraged. Many Lebanese are deciding to leave the country, and a very serious question is: in 10-15 years, who will be left to help rebuild this beautiful place? Every time I hear another story of struggle and perseverance, I feel such gratitude that the Community is here; the house has a particular mission of peace and healing, and many people testify that they are strengthened to stick with the country because of experiences they have had with God through the ministry of the Community. It has been a privilege and an inspiration to be here for two and half months, witnessing and participating in this slow, steady, beautiful work of hope.

And isn’t this a witness that we all need to see? Aren’t there places in our own lives, families, and countries where we are tempted to despair? Even if our own countries are not experiencing a crisis like the one in Lebanon, do we not all at some point experience a moment where suddenly we find that our reality is flipped on its head, leaving us to face an uncertain path and difficult choices? Do we not know what it is like to lay in bed at night and wonder what will become of us? It is in these moments especially that we have a particular need to witness the steady, sure work of God in our lives. These experiences are part of our humanity, both in our own personal story and our collective human story; it is in this communion of spirit that we are linked to one another, and in which we are moved to empathy for people we might never meet or hear about.

As I write this post, one of the priests of the house, Fr. Pierre, is traveling in Switzerland on mission for a project that has been long underway: installing solar panels at the house in Lebanon. Currently, the Lebanese government can only provide about 5 hours of electricity per day - any extra time must be provided by a personal, gas-powered generator. With fuel being one of the resources most affected by inflation, paying for electricity is a major endeavor - for example, during the last year the cost for 10 hours of electricity per day was over $2,000. As one might imagine, going solar would be a game-changer for the mission of the house, freeing up funds that could be otherwise spent on various needs, projects, and types of aid.

The Community is working hard to fundraise the initial $100,000 needed to start the project, but there is still much to be done. I would like to ask, in simplicity and out of love for this home, if you would be willing to consider contributing to this fund. Know that the financial and spiritual support offered to this mission make a very real difference in the lives of real people - I see proof of it every day that I am here. If you would like to learn more about the project and how to donate, please visit this page or feel free to contact me.

I have to say, as I wrap up this post and think about the next couple of weeks, my heart is so full. I will continue to try and give you meaningful glimpses, as I am sure there is still so much left to discover, glean, and savor from this place. As we’ve been saying about our last days, “don’t leave any juice in the orange!” Next week I hope to have some photos of artwork to share…and in the meantime, may we all be awake to all the sweetness that is waiting to be pulled from the life around us.

Megan