From Lebanon : The Power of Love

Hoda M. works in the reception area of a hospital. He comes from a Christian village which was completely razed to the ground by the Palestinians.
This experience concerns Bassam who came to the hospital with a sick relative.

I work in the reception and accounts area of a hospital. Bassan came one morning with a sick relative. Bassan was not Lebanese but Palestinian and just learning of this was enough to churn me up. I come from a Christian village which was razed to the ground by the Palestinians, killing many of the inhabitants and forcing most of the surviving population to escape. I immediately recognised his nationality from his accent and from his home address. Within me I prayed: "Lord, I beg you, I want to give witness to you, so please help me!"
I remembered those words from the Gospel: "Whatever you do to the least, you do it to me". And so I had to recognise and love the face of Jesus in the face of this man.
I looked Bassan in the eyes and I realised that he was afraid and that he didn’t want to reveal his identity. I respected his desire and I did not ask for any documents from him or from his sick relative, whose condition was very serious. Bassan told me that he had no medical insurance and that he would not be able to pay the surgical fees in advance as required by the hospital. I tried to avoid insisting on this because I didn’t want to add insult to injury. Instead I offered to help him.
During the next few days I had a number of opportunities to be of service to him. He was amazed by this and asked me: "I’m a stranger to you. Why are you helping me like this?" And he thanked me sincerely, touched by the concern I had shown towards him.
The sick relative he had accompanied to hospital was in a serious condition and remained so for the duration of his hospital stay. Bassam was very worried about him. I asked the doctors to give the patient the best possible care and to reassure his anxious relatives.
The day after his relative was operated on, Bassam came to my office. He was very moved. He said to me: "I saw some people in the chapel lighting a candle in front of a statue and when I asked them why they were doing that, they told me it was for their sick relatives. And he added: "Can I do that, too?"
"Of course", I said, "You can even light two if you want. I’ll go and get some for you."
He asked me what he should say while lighting the candle. I gave him a copy of a prayer I had with me which read: "I believe in you, Lord. Strengthen my faith. I rely solely on you. Help me."
I said to him, "Don’t be afraid. Your prayer will be heard by God. I too will pray for your sick relative."
On the day his relative was discharged, Bassam came to pay. He said, "I have to tell you something you don’t know about me."
"Don’t tell me anything. I already know," I answered.
"Do you know that I am not Christian, nor even Lebanese?" he said
"Yes, I have known this from the first moment I saw you. That’s why I didn’t ask you for your ID card."
He shared with me how he had always had a negative image of Christians. Then, he asked me if he could come to visit me at home with his wife and his mother. He lived an hour and a half away from my village, but all three of them came. This time we could share more with one another. I told him how I had lived through the war and how much suffering I had endured. I had an intuition, which was confirmed later on, that Bassam himself had participated in the fighting in our village during the war. In the course of our conversation he asked me more than once why I acted the way I did. I answered with simplicity saying our religion is founded on love and on forgiveness and I quoted some of the phrases from the Gospel.
He told me that he often recites the prayer that I had given to him and that he had shown it to some relatives and friends. They stayed with us till late. We said we wanted to build a friendship with one another that would last forever.