HRH The Prince of Wales - 22/12/16
In London recently I met a Jesuit priest from Syria. He gave me a graphic account of what life is like for those Christians he was forced to leave behind. He told me of mass kidnappings in parts of Syria and Iraq and how he feared that Christians will be driven en masse out of lands described in the Bible. He thought it quite possible there will be no Christians in Iraq within five years. Clearly, for such people, religious freedom is a daily, stark choice between life and death.
The
scale of religious persecution around the world is not widely
appreciated. Nor is it limited to Christians in the troubled regions of
the Middle East. A recent report suggests that attacks are increasing on
Yazidis, Jews, Ahmadis, Baha’is and many other minority faiths. And in
some countries even more insidious forms of extremism have recently
surfaced, which aim to eliminate all types of religious diversity.
We
are also struggling to capture the immensity of the ripple effect of
such persecution. According to the United Nations, 5.8 million MORE
people abandoned their homes in 2015 than the year before, bringing the
annual total to a staggering 65.3 million. That is almost equivalent to
the entire population of the United Kingdom.
And
the suffering doesn’t end when they arrive seeking refuge in a foreign
land. We are now seeing the rise of many populist groups across the
world that are increasingly aggressive towards those who adhere to a
minority faith.
All of this has deeply
disturbing echoes of the dark days of the 1930s. I was born in 1948 –
just after the end of World War II in which my parents' generation had
fought, and died, in a battle against intolerance, monstrous extremism
and an inhuman attempt to exterminate the Jewish population of Europe.
That, nearly seventy years later, we should still be seeing such evil
persecution is, to me, beyond all belief. We owe it to those who
suffered and died so horribly not to repeat the horrors of the past.
Normally,
at Christmas, we think of the birth of Our Lord Jesus Christ. I wonder,
though, if this year we might remember how the story of the Nativity
unfolds – with the fleeing of the Holy Family to escape violent
persecution. And we might also remember that when the Prophet Mohammed
migrated from Mecca to Medina, he did so because he, too, was seeking
the freedom for himself and his followers to worship.
Whichever
religious path we follow, the destination is the same - to value and
respect the other person, accepting their right to live out their
peaceful response to the love of God.
That’s what I saw when attending the consecration of the Syriac Orthodox Cathedral in London recently. Here were a people persecuted for their religion in their own country, but finding refuge in another land and freedom to practise their faith according to their conscience.
That’s what I saw when attending the consecration of the Syriac Orthodox Cathedral in London recently. Here were a people persecuted for their religion in their own country, but finding refuge in another land and freedom to practise their faith according to their conscience.
It is an example to inspire us all this Christmastime.
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