“September flew by. I had taken a taxi with some other people who resided in the town. We we were leaving the city that had welcomed me: Aleppo. I was among the few – perhaps the only – foreigner that had chosen this place for vacation. The taxi crossed the city, an expanse of neighbourhoods completely destroyed. How many dead were buried beneath those ruins? The driver didn’t seem to think about that as he sped along the street that led south in the direction of Homs. From there he would proceed in the direction of Beirut. After two and a half hours we were able to make out the first houses that was left standing. It was difficult to believe. I was welcomed for a month by the Focolare community. When I arrived at the door of a church, someone said to me: ‘Here you will find real Christians,’ words I had never heard spoken before. But now I understand. I saw for myself how the focolare is the place in which everything is shared: the Providence that comes from around the world, with tables full of clothes, and so forth; but mostly the joys and sorrows of daily life… Here, for years, the only support was the Word of the Gospel, the God of love. How the beginnings of the Focolare history returned to my mind, when Chiara Lubich would describe them saying those words that I heard so many times: ‘It was war time and everything crumbled!’

Here in Aleppo, as the war raged with bombs exploding all around them, the focolarini continued to visit the families every two days. Three times the windows in the focolare centre shattered to smithereens because of the bombs that fell on the buildings around them. I got to know many people of the local Focolare community, a vibrant community, a real family that has gone through awful trials. They’ve lost everything, professional activity, relatives, homes and friends, but they’ve found the strength to rise and begin again in their faith and unity. One evening, although though it was far away, you could still hear the bombs. The electricity came back in the city, which it hadn’t for five years. Samir had tears in his eyes: ‘It’s the first time that I see my shop with the lights on!’ But Georges still had to carry the gas tanks up to the third floor, because the lifts in those buildings don’t work. When you want to go into the building of condominiums, you have to shout up to the window from the street and they drop you the keys from above. I went jogging regularly with Maher and many other people like us were flocking to the beautiful park in the middle of the city. There was an atmosphere of hopefulness. Nabla was saying to me that in a few months things could be going better in this country with its glorious past. One day, after many years, a musical concert was held in the ancient city, the emblem of Aleppo on the hill. There was also traditional poetry and dance. Four thousand people sang together in an atmosphere of great celebration. The price paid by the population during the war was high, too high: many, many dead, then the diseases, depression, trauma, isolation, lack of education and instruction, work training and all the abandoned children… the list would be too long. I always posed a question to the local people: ‘What do you think is important in facing the future?’ I thought the answer would be ‘rebuilding our houses and resuming productive activities.’ But instead, to my great surprise, the answer I heard most was ‘a great spiritual strength, capable of making new life to be born even here.’ Thank you Robert, Pascal, Freddy and Murad. Thank you Ghada, Lina Chris, Maria Grazia, Maria and Zeina for your life and witness. Now you have a special place in my heart.”   Compiled by Gustavo Clariá