"People have no trust in the future. But the real problem is that there is no certainty of good in the present. And without trust, there is no hope"
Tomorrow, March 15, marks the anniversary of the outbreak of the Syrian civil war. Fourteen years ago, amid the wave of protests that swept across the Middle East, known as the "Arab Spring," Syria plunged into a conflict whose wounds continue to bleed today.
In recent days, brutal attacks and massacres have targeted more than a thousand Alawite civilians. Government investigations and international inquiries have been ordered, yet the country remains trapped in deep political and social instability.
However, there are also different trajectories—stories of resilience, stories that refuse to bow down, and instead look straight ahead toward the future. On this anniversary, we want to try to imagine that future: two voices, going against the tide, tell us about the power of perseverance and hope, in every context and every place.
Rima’s Story
"My name is Rima, and I am 17 years old. When my mother enrolled me in the music center, I saw many different instruments, but the piano was my first choice. I started learning it little by little, and over time, I felt that music had become a part of me."
This is Rima’s voice—clear and bright with the joy of having discovered a new language that allows her to express a deep part of herself. Rima lives in Damascus and has Down syndrome. "God has blessed me with a special daughter, with Down syndrome. But I have never seen this as an obstacle to her realizing her dreams," says her mother. She deeply believes in Rima’s ability to learn and grow and stands by her side in this journey.
"Music brings comfort and allows for self-expression, so I wanted Rima to learn this art. When I discovered the Franciscan Music Centre run by Pro Terra Sancta and the opportunities it offered—such as symbolic enrollment fees and the visible progress of the children attending—I knew it would be the right step for her."
"I won’t hide that, at first, I was afraid. I feared that Rima might be rejected or that people would think she couldn’t learn like others. But I was surprised by the warm welcome and great support from the entire team."
"There were initial challenges, of course, but Rima amazed us," say the teachers who guided her musical journey. "Over time, she made extraordinary progress, reaching an excellent level before her family relocated to Erbil. By the time she left, she was already playing with both hands—a milestone that requires great effort and concentration. She could play complete pieces and confidently read musical notes."
"I express my deepest gratitude to everyone at the music center who contributed with their dedication and commitment," says Rima’s mother, moved by the sight of her daughter mastering a language that will help her build sensitivity and openness to the world—a precious and essential gift.
"Her journey in music was not just a technical exercise," the teachers explain, "but a story of challenge and creativity. It is the story of a girl who refused to be stopped by anything and of a mother who never stopped believing in her. Today, Rima does not just play music—she plays hope, passion, and determination, proving to everyone that willpower can turn dreams into reality."
A Present-Day Certainty of Good
The second story comes from an article in the March issue of Tracce, dedicated to our colleague Jean-François Thiry. Jean-François speaks about the local initiatives of Pro Terra Sancta and the fundamental belief that a different present and future are indeed possible.
"Being peacemakers means looking out for those most in need. The certainty of our faith opens us to others. At this moment, we Christians are relatively safe, but there are communities facing violence and discrimination—I think of the Druze, the Alawites, and the Shiites. If one member suffers, the whole body suffers, so we cannot just protect our small enclave and retreat into Christian neighborhoods. ‘We must not defend spaces but open processes,’ as the Pope said. That is our task—to start processes of dialogue.
We have an office with four staff members, over a hundred educators, and a kitchen providing a thousand meals a day for the poorest, both Muslims and Christians. We are trying to provide education not only for children who, instead of going to school, are forced to work, but also for mothers, offering vocational training to help them earn a living. Because I believe that lack of education breeds violence.
When the country was "liberated," they opened the prisons. From Sednaya prison (30 kilometers north of Damascus) alone, 30,000 people were released, mostly political prisoners—some had been held there for 40 years, tortured, in inhumane conditions. The women we support did not even know where their husbands were. Now, many have returned—ex-soldiers who fought for ten years and know nothing but war. Their psychological state is devastating.
Two weeks ago, we opened a center for psychological rehabilitation. Among these men, some say they would rather go back to prison because they cannot readjust to life outside. There is an enormous need to face and acknowledge.
Two weeks ago, Cardinal Claudio Gugerotti, sent by the Pope to show his closeness, visited Aleppo and met with the parishioners. ‘Will you help us leave Syria? Can you help us get a visa?’ some asked the Cardinal. Everyone applauded. It was like a stab in the heart.
‘No, we will help you to continue your presence here,’ he replied.
People have no trust in the future. But the real problem is that there is no certainty of good in the present. And without trust, there is no hope."
