In a time of monsters

Candles still flicker in Bethlehem, prayers are still whispered in Nablus, and weary hearts still dare to hope that peace might yet come to this land, writes Justin Robinson OSB

In searching for words that capture the spirit of our times, many in the Middle East turn to a line by Antonio Gramsci that feels as resonant today as it did a century ago: “The old world is dying, and the new world struggles to be born: now is the time of monsters.”

I’ve spent the past week in the north of the West Bank, where the Israeli bombardment of Iran – and the subsequent missile response – took everyone by surprise. The developments have stirred a deep unease across the region, even as the sight of missiles in the sky sparks bursts of excitement in the streets.

Imminence

The first sign of an incoming strike is an alert sent to mobile phones by Israel’s Home Front Command, warning of ballistic missile launches and urging people to take cover. In the West Bank, where there are no sirens or shelters, the sound of cheering is often the only clue that missiles have arrived overhead.

That cheering shouldn’t be mistaken for support for war and violence. Rather, it reflects the release of decades of frustration and powerlessness – a visceral response to a rare display of force against a dominant regional power, in a world that too often feels indifferent to Palestinian suffering.

The incoming missiles trace chillingly beautiful streaks of light across the night sky, disintegrating into bursts of bright shrapnel as they are intercepted by air defences. The debris tumbles silently toward the earth until the ground itself shudders with the delayed, terrifying boom of impact. That something so beautiful could be such a deadly instrument of war is deeply numbing.

People are becoming exhausted after sleepless nights of bombardment, and the strain is starting to show – many are tense, irritable, and on edge. Amid the uncertainty, there’s growing anxiety about what all this means for the future, both across the region and at home. A fuel shortage dominates conversations, with many wondering what other basic necessities might soon run out.

Fr Miguel tells me about restrictions on movement between cities, closed shops, fuel shortages, and the mounting strain on the local economy”

“I really don’t know about the situation, or what will happen. Nobody knows,” explains Fr Miguel Jimenez Perez, parish priest in the Rafidia suburb of Nablus. “We have so much information on our phones, so many theories and scenarios, but nobody knows anything for sure.”

We speak after Mass in the parish church dedicated to St Justin Martyr, a native of the city. Describing the local situation, Fr Miguel tells meabout restrictions on movement between cities, closed shops, fuel shortages, and the mounting strain on the local economy. People are deeply concerned by the ongoing war in Gaza, the latest conflict with Iran, and the sense that the horizon only darkens. Still, amid the chaos overhead, the life of prayer in the parish continues uninterrupted. “We are simply waiting and trusting that the situation improves,” Fr Miguel tells me, “and hoping God gives us peace in our hearts and in our land.”

Monsters

Down in Bethlehem, the birthplace of the Prince of Peace, Umm Jeries shares her worry by phone. “When the missiles come, the Israelis go underground – but the Palestinians go to the rooftops,” she says wryly. “I’m praying every day, because I’m worried about the children and what all of this means for their future. The occupation, the pandemic, the war in Gaza, and now this. What’s next? So many Christian families have left lately. We see our cousins living in liberty and peace abroad, and we want a life without war and problems like them.”

Laken naskhur-rabbina ‘ala kull il-hal – “but we thank our Lord for everything,” she adds. Her trust, spoken through weariness, is an inspiring example of faith persisting amid fear.

Even as missiles light the night sky and this new world struggles to be born, people here remain anchored by their faith”

The developments in the region point to a deeper, more troubling pattern – one that should concern us all. Across the globe, international law is giving way to the law of the jungle, as powerful states act with growing impunity and open disregard for the institutions meant to hold them accountable. From Ukraine to Gaza, and now the war with Iran, the rules-based order is unraveling before our eyes, while the world’s leading powers seem either unwilling or unable to respond.

Now is the time of monsters. And yet, even as missiles light the night sky and this new world struggles to be born, people here remain anchored by their faith. Candles still flicker in Bethlehem. Prayers are still whispered in Nablus. And weary hearts still dare to hope that peace might yet come to this land.

Justin Robinson OSB is a monk of Glenstal Abbey in Co. Limerick currently residing in Cairo.

International law is giving way to the law of the jungle, as powerful states act with growing impunity and open disregard for the institutions meant to hold them accountable”