I continue to pray for Fr. Ragheed Aziz Ganni who was shot and killed in Mosul, Iraq together with three other deacons last Sunday. And my prayer was intensified as I read a piece of news from zenit.org which published a letter written posthumously to Fr. Ragheed by his muslim friend, Adnam Mokrani, professor of Islamic Studies in the Institute for the Study of Religion and Culture at the Gregorian University, Rome.
I’d like to share some excerpts here so we could pray together for Fr. Ragheed and companions, and for his killers, for their conversion. You can find the complete article in zenit’s website.
In the name of the compassionate and merciful God,
Ragheed, my brother,
I ask your forgiveness for not being with you when those criminals opened fire against you and your brothers. The bullets that have gone through your pure and innocent body have also gone through my heart and soul. You were one of the first people I met when I arrived to Rome. We met in the halls of the Angelicum and we would drink our cappuccino in the university's cafeteria. You impressed me with your innocence, joy, your pure and tender smile that never left you. I always picture you smiling, joyful and full of zest for life.
Ragheed is to me innocence personified; a wise innocence that carries in its heart the sorrows of his unhappy people. I remember the time, in the university's dining room, when Iraq was under embargo and you told me that the price of a single cappuccino would have satisfied the needs of an Iraqi family for a whole day. You told me this as if you were feeling guilty for being far away from your persecuted people and unable to share in their sufferings.
(…)
I ask your forgiveness, brother, for when the living get together they think they have all the time in the world to talk, visit, and share feelings and thoughts. You had invited me to Iraq … I dreamed of that visit, of visiting your house, your parents, your office. … It never occurred to me that it would be your tomb that one day I would visit or that it would be verses from my Quran that I would recite for the repose of your soul …
One day, before your first trip to Iraq after a prolonged absence, I went with you to buy souvenirs and presents for your family. You spoke with me of your future work: "I would like to preside over the people on the base of charity before justice" -- you said. It was difficult for me to imagine you a "canonical judge" …
And today your blood and your martyrdom have spoken for you, a verdict of fidelity and patience, of hope against all suffering, of survival, in spite of death, in spite of everything.
Brother, your blood hasn't been shed in vain, and your church's altar wasn't a masquerade. …
You assumed your role with deep seriousness until the end, with a smile that would never be extinguished … ever.
Your loving brother,
Adnam Mokrani
I’d like to share some excerpts here so we could pray together for Fr. Ragheed and companions, and for his killers, for their conversion. You can find the complete article in zenit’s website.
In the name of the compassionate and merciful God,
Ragheed, my brother,
I ask your forgiveness for not being with you when those criminals opened fire against you and your brothers. The bullets that have gone through your pure and innocent body have also gone through my heart and soul. You were one of the first people I met when I arrived to Rome. We met in the halls of the Angelicum and we would drink our cappuccino in the university's cafeteria. You impressed me with your innocence, joy, your pure and tender smile that never left you. I always picture you smiling, joyful and full of zest for life.
Ragheed is to me innocence personified; a wise innocence that carries in its heart the sorrows of his unhappy people. I remember the time, in the university's dining room, when Iraq was under embargo and you told me that the price of a single cappuccino would have satisfied the needs of an Iraqi family for a whole day. You told me this as if you were feeling guilty for being far away from your persecuted people and unable to share in their sufferings.
(…)
I ask your forgiveness, brother, for when the living get together they think they have all the time in the world to talk, visit, and share feelings and thoughts. You had invited me to Iraq … I dreamed of that visit, of visiting your house, your parents, your office. … It never occurred to me that it would be your tomb that one day I would visit or that it would be verses from my Quran that I would recite for the repose of your soul …
One day, before your first trip to Iraq after a prolonged absence, I went with you to buy souvenirs and presents for your family. You spoke with me of your future work: "I would like to preside over the people on the base of charity before justice" -- you said. It was difficult for me to imagine you a "canonical judge" …
And today your blood and your martyrdom have spoken for you, a verdict of fidelity and patience, of hope against all suffering, of survival, in spite of death, in spite of everything.
Brother, your blood hasn't been shed in vain, and your church's altar wasn't a masquerade. …
You assumed your role with deep seriousness until the end, with a smile that would never be extinguished … ever.
Your loving brother,
Adnam Mokrani
