Cistercian Order of the Strict Observance  (Trappists)


 

MONK, MARTYR AND MYSTIC:
Christian de Chergé (1937-1996)

 

The experience of martyrdom in the early Church made a profound impression on Christian spirituality. In the first centuries, the experience of martyrdom was identified with mystical experience. Saint Ignatius of Antioch bears eloquent witness to this twofold and yet single reality: his desire to die is explained in the light of his desire to be with Jesus and with the Father; this desire along with his awareness of God’s nearness transformed him, from clarity to clarity, according to the image of God.

In its early stages, monastic life was interpreted in various ways. Not a few understood monasticism as an authentic martyrdom. Once the persecutions had come to an end, monks inherited the prestige of the martyrs; their lives radically surrendered to Christ constituted a bloodless and spiritual martyrdom. Throughout the first centuries, martyrdom, monasticism and mysticism always went hand in hand. Moreover, those monks who were martyrs not only in this figurative sense, but who actually spilled their own blood, stand out preeminent in the history of monasticism.

The martyr, the monk and the mystic are people who have oriented their lives toward mystery and entered deeply therein. This alone explains their desire for transformation and for a slow and patient divinisation. The monk, martyr and mystic long for one thing only: to enter into communion with their Lord in death in order to be joined with him in the resurrection.

During the last seventy years the Cistercian Order of the Strict Observance (Trappists) has repeatedly been shaken by the striking witness of its own martyrs. We have only to recall:

- Father Pio Heredia and his 18 companion martyrs of the monastery of Viaceli (Spain, 1936-1937).
- The brothers and sisters of the Löb family, 3 monks of Tilburg and 2 nuns of Berkel, all members of the same family (Netherlands and Auschwitz, 1942).
- The 33 martyred monks of Consolation (China, 1947-1948).
- Father Christian de Chergé and his 6 companion martyrs of Our Lady of Atlas (Algeria, 1996).

The martyrdom of a brother does not lend itself to the objective analysis of reason, but rather to warm and affective contemplation. Martyrdom and mysticism are a mystery. For this reason, every martyr is also a mystic. And when faced with what is mystical, only reverence and gratitude are appropriate. It is in this way that I would like to approach the testimony of Christian de Chergé, prior of the monastery of Tibhirine in Algeria.

Jesus himself left us his testimonium, that is to say, his witness, his martyrion. Love is stronger than death because it transforms it into life. Our Brother Christian has also left us his testament, his witness, his martyrion. The emotions that arose in me at my first reading of these words of fire and light live within me still. His words opened the eyes of my heart to God’s profound action in this Christian man, Christian.

He sent the text in a closed envelope to his younger brother and godson, Gérard. It was meant to be opened only in the event that... This very thing, expected, feared, but not sought for, did in fact happen. The testament was read on May 26 by Madame de Chergé and her seven children. Realizing that the testament was not intended for them alone, they turned it over to the daily newspaper La Croix where it was published on May 29. It was immediately translated and published in papers and periodicals the world over.

The Vatican Secretariat of State wrote me on June 6 to tell me that the Holy Father was deeply moved and strengthened by Father Christian’s "spiritual testament," in which is so evident the greatness of soul with which these brothers lived through such particularly hostile situations. What is especially striking is their total availability to give up their lives completely, with words of reconciliation and gratitude in perfect conformity to Christ crucified.

Christian de Chergé

He was born on January 18, 1937 at Colmar (Haut-Rhin), into a distinguished family of eight children. The motto on the family’s coat of arms proclaims: recte semper. His father was a military man, as would be his older brother later on. During his childhood he spent three years in Algeria while the Second World War was raging in Europe. From the time of his childhood he always remained impressed by the Muslims’ way of approaching God. At the age of eight he had already decided about his vocation even though he managed to keep it secret: he would be a priest.

On October 6, 1956 at the age of nineteen he entered the seminary of the Carmelites in Paris. His studies were interrupted in 1959 when his age group had to report for military service. Set on being an officer, he took the required courses, and in July of the following year we find him already with the rank of second lieutenant. That same month, at the very time of the war of independence, he arrives in Algeria. At twenty-three years of age he feels that he has been thrown into the conflict of the times, without preparation, with no explanation.

An event occurred during this period that left its mark on him for the rest of his life, both with regard to his love for Algeria and Algerians, and with regard to his openness toward and interest in Islam. Young Christian made friends with an Algerian who worked as a warden under the French authorities, a position that made him susceptible to the violence of the National Liberation Army, even though he was sympathetic to the cause of decolonization. Mohamed, as was this warden’s name, tried to be faithful at one and the same time to his Christian friend, to his Islamic faith, and to his own people. Knowing that he was in danger, Mohamed agreed to let Christian pray for him, but with these words: I know that you will pray for me... but you see, Christians don’t know how to pray.

It so happened that one day they were involved in a scuffle in the street. Mohamed protected his friend and tried to pacify the aggressors. The following day he was found dead. This painful episode was never to be forgotten; Christian would come back to it in the years that followed: I know at least one very beloved brother, a convinced Muslim, who gave his life for love of another, in a concrete way, by spilling his own blood. This undeniable testimony I accept as an extraordinary opportunity. Indeed, since then, at the far end of my hope in the communion of all the elect in Christ, I can fix my eyes on this friend who lived, even to his death, the one commandment. (Chrétiens et musulmans, pour un projet commun de société, 1989). Years later, preaching on The Martyrdom of Charity (March 31, 1994), he will say again: I cannot forget Mohamed who one day protected my life by exposing his own... and who was killed by his own brothers for refusing to turn over one of his friends. He didn’t want to make the choice between the one and the other. "Where there is love, there is God"

For Christian de Chergé all of this was a foundational experience and the seed of a vocation: In the blood of this friend, assassinated for not having wanted to bargain with hatred, Christian will say in 1982, I knew that my calling to follow Christ would end up living itself out sooner or later in the same country where I had been given this pledge of the greater love "qui pro vobis et pro multis effundetur..." ( Prier en Eglise à l’écoute de l’Islam). Early in 1961 Christian is back in France, but is no longer and will never again be the innocent young man of eighteen months before.

On March 21, 1964, he is ordained priest and is immediately made chaplain at the basilica of the Sacred Heart at Montmartre. On his ordination card we can read: They asked for bread, but no one gave to them (Lamentations 4,4). It is easy enough to realize that the early years of his ministry were deeply influenced by the Second Vatican Council. Upon leaving the seminary, his path was already marked out: it would lead him to Algeria and to monastic life.

On August 20, 1969, feast of Saint Bernard of Clairvaux, he enters the noviciate of the monastery of Aiguebelle, but his heart is already in Algeria. On January 15, 1971, he arrives at Our Lady of Atlas. On August 26, 1972, still in temporary profession, he leaves for Rome where he will stay until July of 1974. During these two years he will look more deeply into Arabic language and culture as well as the Islamic religion at the Pontifical Institute for Arabic and Islamic Studies run by the White Fathers. These were years of a spiritual deepening in the Muslim religious tradition. Leaving aside the juridical and political aspects of the Koran, he focused his attention on the mysticism and the religion of the people. His passionate curiosity leads him to investigate in a contemplative way the mystery of Algeria Before God.

On October 1, 1974, Christian renews his temporary vows for one year and will do the same the following year. At last he will make his perpetual monastic profession in 1976. His petition, drawn up on September 14, 1976 reveals his heart: I believe that the time has come for me to root myself more deeply in the way of a tenacious calling (...) I also experience the desire to place the excessive lack of certitude in which we live hic et nunc beneath the sign of an excessive confidence and abandonment (...) This monastery is, as it were, my chosen fiancee, more imperfect than my dreams, but unique in its realness. It is my wish that the "stabilized" brothers of Atlas will admit me among them definitively, in the very name of this continuity, granting me to live in PRAYER in the service of the Church of Algeria, listening to the Moslem soul, God-willing, unto the final gift of my death, ut in omnibus glorificetur Deus !

There is no denying that this event signals the beginning of a new era for the monastery of Our Lady of Atlas. Its Visitor and Father Immediate, the abbot of Aiguebelle wrote to the Abbot General: Brother Christian expresses his desire to respond to the uncertainty of current political conditions with an excess of trust and abandonment to Divine Providence. Present at Atlas since January 15, 1971, he feels perfectly in accord with the ideal of Cîteaux. (...) Amazed at the continuity of God’s plan for Atlas despite all the difficulties, he therefore asks his brothers to accept his definitive commitment. (...) Brother Christian was unanimously accepted to solemn profession. This vote was like a spark setting fire to the whole. (...) Without presuming about the future and looking back on all that happened during the regular visitation, there is no denying that Brother Christian’s solemn profession, which took place on October 1, the feast of Saint Thérèse of Liseux, has had a preponderant influence. This religious, by his personality, by his authority which extends beyond the confines of the monastery since he is in charge of the guesthouse, his great moral value, his knowledge of Islam which was given solidity by his two years of study in Rome, seems to be the most qualified at the present time to direct the future of Our Lady of Atlas. (...) The continuity of Atlas through all obstacles (...) seems to me the visible sign of the infinite power of God who in spite of everything maintains this Cistercian presence, high-place and advanced stronghold in Islamic territory. The community is aware of this, and I see in this solemn profession (...) and in the choice of the non-stabilized for stability in Algeria, as a conscious response to this action of God on the part of the entire community. (Report of November 2, 1976).

Christian was elected titular prior of Atlas in 1984 and re-elected in 1990 and 1996. He was already deeply involved in the interreligious dialogue. He was one of the pillars of the group Ribat es-Salam (The Bond of Peace) which had been meeting in the monastery since 1979. The name of the group is not unrelated to the words of Saint Paul: ...eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. From what was found in his cell after the abduction of March 26/27, 1996, his last reading seems to have been the book of Cheick Khaled Bentounès, entitled Sufism, the Heart of Islam which Father Bruno had brought him from Morocco, and the recent work of Father F.X. Durrwell, Christ, the Man and his Death. On May 21 of this same year, between Ascension and Pentecost, united with his six brothers of the community, he sealed with his blood the witness of his life.

Christian’s Testament

Christian’s Testament is a short text written on both sides of one sheet. The small handwriting is typical of him, firm and sure. The double date shows that it was written at two different times. Although we have only the final text, it is easy to determine the content of each part. It seems likely that the fully unified version was written on January 6, 1994, during which day Christian visits Cardinal Duval of Algiers and "returns immediately to Saint Augustine House where he closes himself in for twenty-four hours" (community diary, January 6, 1994). It is a real testament, and at the same time a profession of faith, hope and charity. It was written in solitude and remained unknown until after his death. Nonetheless, it is not the testament of Christian alone; we can affirm that it is likewise the testament of the whole community of Tibhirine. We also find in this text the heritage that the community of Atlas has bequeathed to the Order and to the Church, that they might welcome it and make it bear fruit. In order to understand Christian’s message, it has to be put back into its historical context and clarified with other texts by this same Christian.

First Part of the Testament

The prior of Tibhirine writes his testament in an historical framework marked by the violence that filled the country with blood. Other personal experiences also contribute to the birth of the text. To give a resumé:

October 1993
- The capture of three French consular agents. They are released afterwards with a message for all foreign residents in Algeria: they have one month to leave the country.

November 17, 1993
- Christian is called into the Prefect’s headquarters. He is offered a police guard, but refuses all armed assistance and agrees only to close the monastery gate at night.

December 1, 1993
- The grace period granted by the GIA (Armed Islamic Group) expires. During the first days of the month four foreigners are assassinated: a Spaniard, the Russian wife of an Algerian, a French "blackfoot" and an Englishman. On the same day Christian is in Algiers to pick up Father Amadeus who is returning from a trip to France.

On this first day of December in his room at Saint Augustine House, foreseeing a last farewell and sensing God’s coming – Quand un A-Dieu s’envisage – Christian takes up his pen and writes.

                                                                       Facing a Goodbye....

If it should happen one day - and it could be today -
that I become a victim of the terrorism which now seems ready to engulf
all the foreigners living in Algeria,
I would like my community, my Church, my family,
to remember that my life was GIVEN to God and to this country.
I ask them to accept that the Sole Master of all life
was not a stranger to this brutal departure.
I ask them to pray for me:
for how could I be found worthy of such an offering?
I ask them to be able to link this death with the many other deaths
which were just as violent, but forgotten through indifference and anonymity.

At this stage Christian’s witness-testament consists of a wanting in the form of a request, a reflection and a desire. The request is addressed to his community, to his Church and to his family; it crystalizes into four verbs: to remember, to accept, to pray and to associate.

To remember that Christian’s life was GIVEN (in capitals as he himself wanted it written). And it is precisely from this gift that emanate all the power of his witness. In this gift is condensed a whole life of service, of love for God and for neighbor: There is no greater love than to give one’s life in this way for those whom we love. It is better to do so ahead of time and for all, as Jesus did. In such a way that he won’t take it away from you, the one who will think he is putting you to death; already, without his knowing it, the gift is granted to him, as to the others (Obscure Witnesses of a Hope, April 17, 1994). This is a paschal gift: it is not without significance that Christian and his brothers experienced the end of their captivity and their death during Lent and the Easter season.

To accept that the hand of God, his providence and his will were present in the drama of this life that was snatched away and in the glory of this life that was given. This acceptance implies looking at the events with faith and reading them in a believing way which is made possible only by love. It also implies a total submission to what is beyond us and to what overwhelms us. Accepting the death of another leads us to accept also our own death, however brutal it may be.

To pray, interceding for the one who gave his life and who knows that he is unworthy of such an offering. To pray also interceding for so many others who have lost their lives through violence. So many others whom no one knows nor ever will know. Christian associates himself with them and also desires that they be associated with his own gift so that it might become an offering. In the homily preached on Holy Thursday 1994 our brother said: There are now many martyrs in our country. On the one side as on the other, each honors its dead with the glorious title of "martyrs." ....From experience, after all, we know that this martyrdom of charity does not belong exclusively to Christians. We can receive this witness from anyone as a gift of the Spirit. Of all the victims that the Algerian drama has already accumulated, who can tell how many are authentic "martyrs" of a simple and gratuitous love? (The Martyrdom of Charity, March 31, 1994)

The fourfold request is then turned into a reflection on life, innocence and evil, but not into an abstract reflection foreign to its own existence or to human existence. On the contrary, the solidarity flowing from the gift must save those who have solidarity in the violence.

My life has no more value than any other.
Nor any less value.
In any case, it has not the innocence of childhood.
I have lived long enough
to know that I am an accomplice in the evil
which seems to prevail so tragically in the world,
even in that evil which would blindly strike at me.

And from reflection we move on to a last desire. Christian desires a moment of lucidity, which implies a space of time. Not a death that arrives unexpectedly, but one that approaches and awaits consent. An instant suffices to ask for and grant forgiveness: to ask for it in order to grant it. To ask forgiveness from God and from all brothers of humanity, in order to be able to forgive wholeheartedly the one who takes life with violence.

I should like, when the time comes, to have the moment of lucidity
which would allow me to beg forgiveness of God
and of all my fellow human beings,
and at the same time to forgive with all my heart
the one who would strike me down.

Thus ended that first of December. Christian returned to his monastery. He kept his testament. He had not yet said everything. Further important events would be needed for the conceived word to come to light once again.

Second Part of the Testament

On the first of January, the anniversary of the death of Father de Foucauld, Christian is aware that the moment has come to give birth once again. What had happened during the preceding month? The most important events can be resumed as follows:

December 14, 1993
- Twelve Croatian Catholics, acquaintances of the monks, have their throats cut at Tamesquida, a few kilometers from the monastery. The GIA claims responsibility for the act.

- On the following day Christian and the community hear about it on the radio. Deeply affected by this incident, they publish a text in La Croix l’Evénement (Thursday, February 24, 1994) entitled If we remain silent, the stones of the wadi will cry out...

December 24, 1993
- Visit of a group of six armed men who break into the monastery after supper at around 7:15 PM.

- The leader of the group is Abou Younes Sayat-Attiya (of the GIA), the one responsible for the assassination of the twelve Croatians at Tamesguida.

- The leader reassures the monks about the present and the future as long they offer him: 1) medical aid, 2) medical supplies, 3) money. The aim of the visit was to compromise the monks and seek their collaboration.

- Christian tells the group’s leader: This is a house of peace; no one has ever come in here with weapons. If you want to talk with us, come in, but leave your weapons outside. If that is not possible, then we’ll talk outside.

- Christian responds to the requests saying, We are not rich. We work for our daily bread. We help the poor. As for sending Brother Luke into the mountains, this is not possible given his age and especially his asthma. He will be able to help the sick or wounded who come to the dispensary. There it’s no problem; he gives the same care to any who have need and doesn’t bother about their identity. As for medicine, he gives what is needed to each one.

- Christian makes it known to the Emir, the leader of the group, that they were getting ready to celebrate the birth of Christ, the prince of peace... Excuse us then, he responded, we weren’t aware. Before going he left a password because, he said, We will be back.

- a few days later, December 28, Christian prepares a letter addressed to Sayat-Attiya, a letter that will never reach him: Brother, permit me to address you in this way, man to man, believer to believer...

This visit signaled a before and an after in the life of Christian and his brothers. After the Christmas visit, Christian will say, it took me two or three weeks to come back from my own death. One accepts death very quickly, have no fear, but to get back on one’s feet afterwards, it takes some time.

December 27, 1993
- Bishop Teissier’s visit to the monastery. He invites the monks to stay put.

December 30, 1993
- A letter from Christian to the Prefect of Médéa in response to the latter’s letter of December 29, offering military protection (Christian had been called into the prefect’s headquarters on November 17 and December 19):

- Wanting to be a sign of peace for everyone, the monks do not accept the
   presence of arms in the monastery enclosure.
- They consider that it would be very difficult to continue their monastic life in a
   "protected lodging" in Médéa.
- They are willing to close the outside doors between 5:30 PM and 7:30 AM.
- They agree to the installation of a new phone line in the watchman’s house.
- Given the vague threat hanging over them, they do not reject the possibility of a
   hurried departure of a few brothers at a time: in such a case, can they count on
   the help of the local authorities?
- Lastly, they express their desire to continue benefitting from Algeria’s
   hospitality.

- On the same day Cardinal Duval calls the monastery by telephone. He tells them: The entire Church of Algeria is with you ! Then he gives the following advice: You have to be firm with those people (i.e. the visitors from the mountains).

December 31, 1993
- The community agrees on the following points: the total rejection of any collaboration (with the exception of medical aid, but at the monastery); to remain at Atlas, temporarily reducing the number of persons in the community; not to return to France in the event of a forced departure; to come back to Algeria when circumstances allow it; not to receive novices at Atlas until circumstances change.

And so it is that once January 1 had arrived, Christian finished writing down what had been in his heart during the last month, perhaps during the last years. His thought surges up forcefully from the depths of his being. The onrush finds its channel and momentum. This time it passes from a non-desire to a reflection and from this latter to joy and thanksgiving, to end finally with a request.

It starts all over again with a non-desire. It is not only a matter of a love for life and a fear of death, even if these are not absent.

I could not desire such a death.
It seems to me important to state this.

This is not simply a non-desire, but rather a non-desire laden with reason, with light and with a passion for life mutually enriching one another. There begins then a new reflection. We are at the sociological and theological heart of Christian’s testament.

I do not see, in fact, how I could rejoice
if this people I love were to be accused indiscriminately of my murder.
To owe it to an Algerian, whoever he may be,
would be too high a price to pay
for what will perhaps be called "the grace of martyrdom",
especially if he says he is acting in fidelity to what he believes to be Islam.
I am aware of the scorn which can be heaped on Algerians indiscriminately.
I am also aware of the caricature of Islam
which a certain Islamism encourages.
It is too easy to ease one's conscience
by identifying this religious way
with the fundamentalist ideologies of its extremists.

Christian does not appear to accept the "grace of martyrdom" if it comes at the price of an undifferentiated accusation of an entire people. Two years before his death he said: If I gave my life to all Algerians, I also gave it to the "Emir" S.A. He won’t take it from me even if he decides to inflict upon me the same treatment he gave our Croatian friends. Still, I hope he will respect my life in the name of the love that God has also inscribed within his human vocation. (The Martyrdom of Charity, March 31, 1994) He also wondered: Is it not too costly what we willingly call the "glory of martyrdom" when it is owed to the murderous act of a brother in humanity? Not to mention all the generalizations people will tend to make, for example including all Algerians in the responsibility for a crime committed by a few...(Obscure Witnesses of a Hope, July 17, 1994). A few weeks before the abduction that would lead to his death, he preached saying: In fact it is very clear that we may not wish this death, not only because we are afraid, but because we may not wish for a glory that would be gotten at the price of a murder, which would make the one to whom I owe it a murderer. God cannot allow for that: Thou shalt not kill, this commandment applies to my brother and I must do all I can to love him enough to turn him away from what he would want to commit. I love them enough, all the Algerians, not to want one of them to be the Cain of his brother (Lenten day, March 8, 1996).

In fact, this meditation on martyrdom will accompany Christian during the last part of his life. To recognize this, it is enough to read a few of the longer writings from his last two years:
   - "Martyrdom of charity": Holy Thursday (March 31, 1994)
   - "Martyrdom of innocence": Good Friday (April 1, 1994)
   - "Martyrdom of hope": Paschal Vigil (April 2/3, 1994)
   - "Martyrdom of the Holy Spirit": Pentecost (May 5, 1994)
   - "Obscure witnesses of a hope: in memory of the first martyrs of Africa" (July 7, 1994).

In his posthumous meditation he once again takes up the theme of martyrdom. His heart seems to find comfort in these words attributed to Thomas Becket: The martyr no longer desires anything for himself, not even the glory of suffering martyrdom (Lenten day, March 8, 1996).

The reflection deepens as it continues. The grain sown in childhood is already bearing full fruit:

For me, Algeria and Islam are something different: they are a body and a soul.
I have proclaimed this often enough, I believe,
in the sure knowledge of what I have received from it,
finding there so often that true strand of the Gospel
which I learned on my mother's lap, my very first Church,
in Algeria itself and already inspired with respect for Muslim believers.

In 1982 Christian had sent a letter to a friend, a letter that was later published with the title: To Pray as a Church Listening to Islam. Already then, he stated without hesitation: It was forty years ago this very year that I saw for the first time men praying in a way different from my fathers. I was five and was discovering Algeria during a first stay of three years. I remain profoundly grateful to my mother who taught my brothers and me respect for the integrity and the postures of this Muslim prayer. "They are praying to God," my mother said. Thus I have always known that the God of Islam and the God of Jesus Christ are not two gods. (...) Also, when I come across or have to put up with certain forms of sectarianism - and they do in fact exist in Muslim circles - I look elsewhere for the Islam of the heart, in the direction of the friend gone ahead (Mohamed), and of so many others who have had or who have kept the same pure and demanding face. And when some of them consider me as one of theirs, I am not surprised to feel that they are so near to the One who became for me the Way, the Truth and the Life.

And the reflection moves on gaining in depth and synthesizing life. Thus the Testament presents itself to us as a Summa of Christian’s thought on Christianity and Islam. A thought that is not always well understood, and still less, accepted by everyone. Here are condensed, as in a last word, some of his earlier writings: Let’s settle on a common word: Christians and Muslims, witnesses and pilgrims of mercy (1983); Christians and Muslims, do our differences have the meaning of a communion? (1984); Christians and Muslims, towards a common project for society (1989).

My death will clearly appear to justify
those who hastily judged me naive or idealistic:
"Let him tell us now what he thinks of it!"
But these people must realize
that my most avid curiosity will then be satisfied.
This is what I shall be able to do, if God wills it:
immerse my gaze in that of the Father,
and contemplate with him his children of Islam
just as he sees them, all shining with the glory of Christ,
the fruit of his Passion, and filled with the Gift of the Spirit
whose secret joy will always be to establish communion
and refashion the likeness, playfully delighting in the differences.

In his intervention at the Roman Days of 1989, without realizing it, Christian revealed the mystical depth of his heart: After thirty years of carrying within me the existence of Islam as a piercing question, I have an intense curiosity about the place it holds in God’s mysterious plan. Death alone, I think, will provide the awaited answer. I am sure to perceive it, dazed, in the paschal light of the one who stands before me as the only possible "Muslim," because he is solely a "yes" to the Father’s will. But I am convinced that by letting this question linger within me I learn better to discover the solidarities and even complicities of today, including that of faith. I thus avoid limiting the other to my own notions about him, which perhaps were handed down to me by my Church, nor even to what he might have to say for himself at the present time, as a majority.

The paschal Christ, communicator of the Spirit, is the key to understanding the mystery both of the intimate life of the triune God and of his plan of salvation. This Christ, as Christian goes on to say, who is precisely the great sacrament of this "third world" of hope, the initiator of faith in man and his fulfillment in God, both beyond and within us, completely hidden from the eyes of the world by the cloud of divine mystery and by the veil of the on-going incarnation. Jesus himself warned us: No one knows the Son except the Father... (Mt 11:27). (...) Do we not sometimes forget it and think that to be Christian is to know everything about Christ? "God is greater, Allâhu Akbar !" Christ is greater, inconceivably greater. To proclaim him with naked faith is the best witness (chahâdâ) we can bear to his divinity. Moreover, in order to enrich our partial knowledge of the present moment, we need whatever the other might have to add by what he is, what he does, what he believes (Roman Days, September 1989).

Finally, the reflection turns into joy and thanksgiving. God welcomes this life freely given and lost, in spite of everything, despite the fact that it is not a desired death nor even that one is inclined to pay the price of the "grace of martyrdom". There flows from this a profound joy that no one can take away:

For this life lost, totally mine and totally theirs,
I thank God who seems to have willed it entirely
for the sake of that JOY, in everything and in spite of everything.

It is thanksgiving, however, that prevails. In it is grasped all that has been experienced. Thanksgiving to God os open to all, to friends of all times and places, and especially to the family. May God grant everyone the promised recompense of detachment... !

In this THANK YOU, which sums up my whole life from now on,
I certainly include you, friends of yesterday and today,
and you, my friends of this place,
along with my mother and father, my sisters and brothers and their families:
the hundredfold granted as it was promised!

In the same way that there was a first Algerian friend who spilled his blood for Christian at the time of his military service, there is also now a last friend. For both of them: thanks ! The assassination becomes a farewell. The face of the assassin has been taken on by God and the face of God is reflected in that of the assassin. Oui, pour toi aussi je le veux ce MERCI, et cet "A-DIEU" en-visagé de toi:

And also you, the friend of my final moment,
who will not have been aware of what you were doing.
Yes, I want this THANK YOU and this
GOODBYE
to be a "GOD-BLESS" for you, too,
in whom I see the face of God.

At Christmas time 1995 Christian puts together the short bulletin of "Ribat". Everything is centered around Sister Odette Prévot, assassinated on November 10 of the same year, and on the reflection theme of the Ribat meeting for the end of the year: O God, you are our hope on the face of all the living ! Christian’s rereading of this unfolds as follows: Yes Lord, you are our hope on the face of... Odette ! (...) I see also on the forever living face of Odette, as it were, a resemblance of the young man who that morning of November 10 killed "without knowing what he was doing," unaware of the Eucharist that was being prepared at that time, and of the one that would be accomplished at his own hands on the side of the road. Henri extended his hand to his murderer. Christian (Chessel) went out to work, obedient to his own. Perhaps Odette, for her part, had just enough time to see the Lord of her hope on the face of this assassin springing up from the unknown. In face of the Father, I see that she was answered in the prayer of our theme, and I see reflected on her face of complete peace something unique that comes from that man, along with the stigmata that she borrows from the face of Chantal (companion of Odette wounded in the attack).

In Christian’s mind, the friend of the last moment, that January 1, the day on which he signed his testament, could well have been that of Sayat-Attiya. They had met one week before and had looked each other in the face. The first word that the face of the other speaks to me, said Christian, quoting Emmanuel Levinas, is a request for life: respect me. The Emir had promised to come back; he never did. The radio announced his death "officially" on April 17, 1994, a death that took place on February 22.

Two years later, already near the time of his death, Christian preached a Lenten day to a group of lay people in Algiers. Making reference to Sayat-Attiya, he said: I know that he has slit the throats of one hundred and forty-five people... But, now that he is dead, I try to imagine his arrival in paradise, and it seems to me that in the eyes of the good God I have the right to present for him three attenuating circumstances. The first is simply this: he did not slit our throats. The second: he left when I asked him to. And then, when he died a few kilometers from us, he agonized as a wounded man for nine days. As he had agreed not to call on our doctor or to send for him (...) he didn’t send for him. The third attenuating circumstance: After our meeting on Christmas night, I said to him: "We are getting ready to celebrate Christmas, for us it is the birth of the prince of peace, and you come like that, armed !" He answered: "Excuse me, I wasn’t aware...". I don’t cover up anything... It is not for me to judge, each of his crimes is horrible, but he is not a filthy beast (as some said). It is now up to the mercy of God. Christian intercedes and leaves the judgement to the mercy of God. Everything is valid for the friend of the last moment, whoever he may be, because he did not know what he was doing: I commend to God’s mercy ahead of time the one who, in his unenlightened freedom, would become a murderer. And if I am the one he comes for, I would like to be able to say that he did not know what he was doing, and to accord him all the attenuating circumstances. (Lenten day, March 8, 1996)

Everything has already been said. There is only room for one last request, full of surrender, in the form of a desire filled with hope: the final encounter, as sinners and as brothers, in the paradise of God the Father, if it so please him.

And may we meet again as happy thieves
in Paradise, if it pleases God, the Father of us both.
                                                                 AMEN ! In sha'Allah ! 

Algiers, 1st December 1993                               
Tibhirine, 1st January 1994                              

The most powerful witness to Jesus before his death is the witness of his innocence. It is for this reason that Christian says: faced with "that martyrdom", the saint and the assassin are just two thieves dependent on the same forgiveness. And sometimes they are nearly interchangeable ! (Obscure witnesses of a hope, July 17, 1994).

Christian’s Testament contains the synthesis of his whole life. All along Christian lived straining "towards God" and saying "farewell". To contemplate the mystery of Islam in God’s plan was the passion of his life. And he contemplated it in an anticipated way at the moment of his own passio thanks to the transforming power of forgiveness.

The Testament begins with a farewell to be faced, that is to say, in the perspective of a departure and when God can barely be seen. It continues with a desire to forgive wholeheartedly any eventual aggressor. It carries on in hope: death having arrived, my most avid curiosity will then be satisfied. This is what I shall be able to do (...) immerse my gaze in that of the Father, and contemplate with him his children of Islam just as he sees them,(...) filled with the Gift of the Spirit, whose secret joy will always be to establish communion and to refashion the likeness, playfully delighting in the differences. And we can now see that this foreseen and ardently hoped for contemplation is anticipated in the light of love. Forgiveness brought with it transformation and reestablished communion. The enemy is now a friend. God the Father and the Muslim brother are recognized together. And thus it is that Christian was able to contemplate in the face of God the reflection of the last-minute friend (his assassin) and in the face of the friend (en-visagé de toi) the reflection of God’s face.

To go into greater depth

Saint John of the Cross tells us that once a union of love has been attained between the soul and God, the soul desires only to gaze upon and to know the secret things of the Beloved himself (Spiritual Canticle, 35,3). The life of the monk is totally oriented toward the mystery of God. So it is with the mystic, only adding that this latter has entered into the mystery and has been transformed by it. The martyr, in turn, bears witness with a blood that is both his own and not his own: it is no longer I who live, but Christ living in me.

A meditative and prayerful reading of Christian de Chergé ’s testament allows us to say of him something he himself never would have said: Christian was an authentic monk, a martyr of the communion between all the children of God going their scattered ways, and a mystic of the paschal and redeeming Christ. In short, a complete Christian.

Our brother Christian lived with a heart full of faith and rooted in love. There is no doubt that the Spirit of the Lord granted him the charism of a full knowledge (epignosis), by which he was able to appreciate in an unlimited way the length, the height and the depth of the love of Christ, a love that surpasses all knowledge and which fills with all the fullness of God (Eph 3:17-19; cf Col 2:2-3). He was one of the little ones to whom was revealed, unlike the wise and intelligent, the full knowledge of the Father and of the Son (Mt 11: 25-27).

In the same way that Saint Paul tried throughout his life to understand the place of Israel in God’s plan of salvation, Christian also from a very young age wanted to know the place of Islam in the saving mystery of the one God. Stripped of the old man and clothed with the new, he sought a full knowledge that restored in him the image of his creator and likewise understood profoundly that there is no distinction between Jew and Gentile, circumcised and uncircumcised, the more or the less civilized, the slave and the free man, but that there is only Christ who is all in all (Col 3:9-11). I have no doubt that the Father of glory gave him a spirit of wisdom and of revelation that allowed him to understand fully; with the eyes of his heart illumined, he knew fully the hope to which he had been called (Eph 1:17-18). Thus it is that he was able to exclaim with the Apostle to the Gentiles: O the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God ! How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways ! For everything is from him and through him and for him. To him be glory eternally ! Amen. (Rom 11:33-35).

The supreme witness of martyrdom and the ardent grace of mysticism are united in his life by means of the ultimate gift of forgiveness. In an ethically divided world where religions are the cause of confrontations and wars, is this not a prophetic word and a word of hope at the threshold of the third millennium?

When he began his monastic life in Algeria Christian sent to his family a Chronicle of Hope 1974. He included in it a meditation dedicated to his godchild Violaine who had been born a little over a year before. We read: there is a sponsorship to which I feel called (as a godfather) which is that of HOPE. It is no special sacrament, but rather the whole life of the Christian that must become a sign of what is "further", of this "overabundance", of this "beyond" where yesterday’s caterpillar opens up into the splendor of the butterfly. In the country where I live I thus have a multitude of godchildren. (...) These godchildren do not share the faith in Christ that you will welcome in baptism, but my hope knows that their whole religious life is already wanted and guided by the Spirit of the Father, and with them I enjoy desiring already the joy that we will have recognizing Christ together. At bottom, the baptism of hope, here, is death... and may this word never frighten you, for it is a matter of the ultimate birth...

And it is precisely this that happened with Christian and his six brothers: they immersed themselves in hope in order to emerge alive with an imperishable life.

Bernardo Olivera, ocso   
Rome, July 18, 1998   

Basic bibliography

De Chergé, Ch. L’invincible espérance, Bayard Éditions / Centurion, 1997.
Duteil, M. Les martyrs de Tibhirine, Paris: Éditions Brepols, 1996.
Frère Christophe, Aime jusqu’au bout du feu, Annecy: Éditions Monte-Cristo, 1997.
Brs. of Atlas, Sept vies pour Dieu et l’Algérie, Paris: Bayard Éditions / Centurion, 1996
     (translated into Italian and Spanish).
Masson, R. Tibhirine. Les veilleurs de l’Atlas, Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf / Saint-Augustin, 1997.
Olivera, B. How Far to Follow? The Martyrs of Atlas,  Petersham: St. Bede's Publications, 1997
     (original in Spanish; also translated into French, German, Italian and Korean).
Ray, M.-Ch. Christian De Chergé, Prieur de Tibhirine, Bayard Éditions / Centurion, 1998.


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