The human spirit, they say, endures much, but what we’re witnessing across the Middle East and beyond stretches even the hardest of hearts. To read about airstrikes, displacements, and lives fractured by violence is one thing; to know people living within that landscape is another. Our sisters in Lebanon wrote to us with news that humbles and challenges us, describing how they continue their work amidst daily turmoil. They provide sanctuary for students, tend to the elderly, and offer a space for prayer, even as war shadows the streets outside.

Sr. Micheline Najjar, Provincial Leader of the OLA Sisters in Lebanon, recently sent word describing the struggle, but more than sharing their reality, her words are a call to see the people behind the news. It’s easy, from a distance, to see only the headlines, to talk about conflict in abstractions. But as our sisters remind us, it’s real lives that fill these cities and villages, people whose days are shaped by a fragile hope for tomorrow, just as much as they are by fear and uncertainty.

Our sisters write about displacement affecting over a million people within Lebanon alone. For so many, finding a place to stay—a room, a mattress, or even the corner of a friend’s house—is a feat. Families are separated, homes are abandoned, and entire communities are reshaped by forces beyond their control. In Raouda, our sisters have kept their school open, welcoming students from all backgrounds and offering what stability they can. This space, one of learning and growth, becomes even more precious as it represents a normalcy that’s hard to come by.

The letter goes on to share the delicate balance they navigate daily. In Kab Elias, where the OLA Sisters run a school with more than a thousand students, the teaching is a blend of in-person and online sessions, adapted to the safety needs of the day. Sr. Micheline shares that students from over forty villages find their way to this school—a journey that, in ordinary times, might pass without note, but in these times speaks of courage and commitment. Education here reaches beyond academics, it’s a grounding force, an act of defiance against the instability that threatens to disrupt lives and futures.

In reflecting on these regions in Lebanon where our sisters are working—Raouda, Kab Elias, Montana, and Salima—we’re reminded that beyond Lebanon, similar stories are lived out across Gaza, Israel and other parts of the Middle East. These are lands with deep histories, cultures, and faiths that have interwoven over centuries. People from all walks of life—Muslim, Christian, Jewish, Druze, and others—live in close proximity, often sharing friendships, family ties, and traditions. But today, this interwoven fabric strains under the weight of violence and division. Families across borders wonder if their loved ones are safe, if they’ll see them again, if they’ll survive another day.  

To say this conflict is complex is to say too little. As outsiders looking in, it’s natural to want to simplify, but conflict of this nature is never simple. The stories of individual lives—those displaced, those holding on to community, those finding strength in faith—defy simplification. The headlines alone do not – cannot – convey the quiet determination it takes to keep families together, to maintain daily routines, to pray for peace when it feels so far away.

Richard Rohr speaks of solidarity as “a deep union with the other in love,” a connection that goes beyond the exterior and into the essence of shared humanity. And today, that solidarity must stretch across borders, across faiths, and across our own comfort zones. Our sisters in Lebanon aren’t waiting for the conflict to subside before they offer their support. Instead, they stand in solidarity now—opening their doors, tending to their students, and keeping alive a spark of hope.

Sr Micheline’s correspondence details how the community in Montana, home to our elderly sisters, stays vigilant yet safe, and how the sisters in Salima—another OLA community—welcome students from different faiths. In these small acts—opening a classroom, caring for the elderly, praying with neighbours—we see what solidarity looks like. It is not loud or dramatic; it is faithful, steady, rooted in compassion. And it reminds us that, while the circumstances may change, the commitment to be present with one another remains.

True compassion is not just a feeling but a force, an active stance that reshapes the world, even if only in small ways. “We are here to be the light,” Sr. Micheline reminds us, “however uncertain the night may be.” And in all these regions that are in crises there are those who hold that light for others, carrying it forward when the rest of us falter.

Our sisters in Lebanon are not alone in their mission. We have sisters in other conflict zones—places that rarely make headlines but where lives are no less affected by violence and instability. They, too, carry on their work amidst uncertainty, their lives a reminder that the resilience of those who choose hope over fear is steady and unwavering. In keeping them close in prayer, we are reminded that our lives are interconnected, that suffering in one place calls for compassion in another.

Today, as we consider these words, may we be moved beyond simple empathy and into action, however that might look in our own lives. Perhaps it’s in offering our prayers for peace or in extending support to organisations working in these regions. Or perhaps it’s in challenging ourselves to remain open, even when the conflict seems too complex, too far away, or too overwhelming to understand.

In holding our Sisters and the ordinary individuals—like you and me—who bear the heavy burden of life in conflict-affected regions in prayer, we are not merely wishing for an end to violence. We recognise that war disrupts the daily lives of these people, shattering their routines and dreams. As we place our faith in a future where they can thrive free from the shadow of war, we also pray for those in positions of power. May they find compassion, engage in meaningful dialogue, and seek an end to conflict. Together, we envision families reunited in peace, students learning without fear, and the common humanity that binds us becoming a force stronger than the divisions imposed by war.

The road to peace may be long, but it is one we walk together. And as we hold them in our hearts, let us remember that they, too, hold us in theirs, each one of us striving for a world where love and compassion overcome all boundaries.