As Syria experienced a surge of intercommunal violence this summer, the Mar Mûsa monastery has become a beacon of interfaith dialogue. At the end of July, pilgrims, some from afar, converged there in memory of the Italian Jesuit Paolo Dall'Oglio, who dedicated his life to interreligious hospitality. Manoël Pénicaud * is a researcher at CNRS.
This article is part of a series leading up to the exhibition Shared Holy Places at the Académie de France in Rome – Villa Médicis (October 9 – January 19).
Index IA: Library of Mediterranean Knowledge
The interreligious reopening of the Mar Mûsa Monastery (Syria)
22-med – September 2025
• Mar Mûsa reopens in Syria as a symbol of dialogue between Christians and Muslims.
• The figure of Father Paolo Dall’Oglio, who disappeared in 2013, still nourishes reconciliation.
#syria #religion #dialogue #mediterranean #memory
On this July 24, 2025, silhouettes ascend the endless staircase leading to the Monastery of Mûsa al-Habashi (Saint Moses the Abyssinian) to participate in an interfaith meeting, the first since the start of the civil war in 2011. Syrians, Italians, Belgians, and French have answered the call of the Mar Mûsa monastic community, now led by the young Jihad Youssef. Some knew the charismatic Father Paolo Dall'Oglio, founder of this exceptional place, clinging to the cliffside 80 km from Damascus and about ten from the city of Nebek.
A monk "in love" with Islam
It was in 1982 that this Italian Jesuit, but Syrian at heart, discovered this abandoned monastery in the mountains. Fascinated by its 11th-century frescoes, he moved heaven and earth to restore it. In 1991, he founded the Al-Khalil community, “the Friend of God” in Arabic, and the nickname of Abraham in the Quran. Dall'Oglio was an apostle of Islamic-Christian dialogue, a spiritual heir of Charles de Foucauld and Louis Massignon, just as Christian de Chergé (one of the seven monks of Tibhirine in Algeria) was in his own way. He even declared himself “in love with Islam, believing in Jesus,” in the name of Christ's love for Muslims. He also adopted the expression “Church of Islam” to designate the “community that would gather the disciples of Jesus living in a Muslim context, sent, born, or belonging to this context, in which they want to take root and with which they want to interact, with a view to establishing the Kingdom of God.” But this was seen as a provocation by the Syrian Church, close to the Al-Assad regime, as well as by the Vatican. The Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith summoned him, and he came close to excommunication before being rehabilitated.
The monastic rule of this mixed and ecumenical community is based on three pillars: contemplative life, manual labor, and Abrahamic hospitality, while its “horizon” is Islamic-Christian dialogue. Before the war, the monastery attracted many visitors, both Syrians and international, Christians and believers of other religions. Many Muslims visited and could even pray in the church, taking advantage of the fact that the south wall (facing Mecca) was free of representations. The monastery was also the scene of interreligious meetings under the tent known as Abraham's. The regime allowed this, as it gave them a kind of endorsement of openness to the other in the eyes of the world.
From exile to disappearance
Then, in March 2011, the revolution broke out. The Friday protests were met with bloodshed. Dall'Oglio sided with the “Revolution,” even going so far as to claim the right to defend oneself, which aroused suspicion and misunderstanding from the Syrian church. In June 2012, he was expelled by the regime. Based in another monastery of his community in Iraqi Kurdistan, he became a sort of spokesperson for free Syria, traveling across Europe and visiting several governments in vain. In early 2013, he decided to return clandestinely, via Turkey, to his beloved country, then ravaged by the expansion of the “Islamic State” organization. On July 27, he went to the IS stronghold in Raqqa to negotiate the release of Christian and Muslim hostages with the so-called caliph Al-Baghdadi, who was absent. For three days, he returned to the IS headquarters. On the third day, he never came out.
His case remains a mystery. Several intelligence and diplomatic services have done everything to trace him. The Vatican and the Sant’Egidio community have worked in the shadows, without success. Several journalists have investigated, gathering scant testimonies and dead-end leads. Pope Francis has closely followed this case, receiving his family and members of the community, some of whom had settled in a small monastery in Cori, south of Rome. Regularly, false news has emerged in the press, announcing his possible survival or the discovery of his body in a mass grave.
What can we retain, beyond the facts, from this tragic destiny? That this ardent Christian, who loves Islam, went to the end of his vocation, offering himself as a “voluntary hostage” for the salvation of other hostages. For let us not be mistaken, the heroic act of going to save these prisoners was not the result of delusion: Dall'Oglio acted in the spirit of Badaliya (substitution, in Arabic), the name of a prayer group founded by the Frenchman Louis Massignon and the Egyptian Mary Kahîl in 1933, aimed at praying and “offering themselves as voluntary hostages” for the salvation of Muslims. As a disciple of Massignon, the monk Boulos dared to put this principle of love and total abandonment into practice, even if it meant becoming a martyr himself (witness in Greek, as shahid in Arabic).
A weakened but living community
During the war, the monastery, considered an impure place, was directly threatened by IS. Only a few Syrian monks remained there. In Europe, the community was able to spread its message, with the ranks of faithful associations increasing in Italy, France, Switzerland, and Belgium. Open house days were organized in Cori to gather these friends, as in 2023 for the tenth anniversary of the disappearance of the founding father. Christians and Muslims came together, reviving the spirit of Mar Mûsa.
After fourteen years of war, the regime collapsed. Last winter, the prison doors opened, like that of Sednaya, where some dreamed that Paolo would be found. The months that followed brought their share of hopes and violence, like the massacres of Alawites near Latakia, the attack in a Greek Orthodox church in Damascus in June, or the fighting involving the Druze community in the province of Suweida in mid-July. It was in the context of these clashes that the friends of Mar Mûsa maintained their gathering titled “Open Hearts: a New Hope for Syria.” From July 24 to 28, about fifty Christians and Muslims exchanged, discussed, and prayed around themes such as reconciliation and the culture of peace. On the 27th, the dialogue gave way to a kind of pilgrimage in honor of Paolo, guided by an icon representing him, the walkers silently visited his favorite places and prayed for him, for all the missing, and for Syria. On the 29th, the date of his abduction, a mass was officially celebrated below the monastery by Jacques Mourad, a member of the community and appointed Archbishop of Homs by Pope Francis in 2023. This was the first time Paolo's disappearance could be commemorated in Syria, in front of more than three hundred people. At the opening, the head of the community, Jihad Youssef, said: “Dear brothers and sisters, we are gathered here today in a spirit of friendship and respect, to pray and remember our father Paolo, whose fate we still do not know. The monk Boulos dedicated his life to God, in love for Islam and Muslims.
A spiritual legacy that still shines in the Mediterranean
Whether in Syria or elsewhere, the charisma of Paolo Dall'Oglio and his community continues to unfold. Who would have believed, thirty years ago, that this monastery would still be active despite wars and intercommunal tensions? Like a fragile lighthouse in the fog, it continues to illuminate consciences, promote freedom of expression, and denounce the rejection of the Other. And who would have believed, twenty years ago, that the intuition of this contested priest, to the point of risking ostracism, would continue to inspire others and see Pope Francis preface one of his posthumous books?
*Manoël Pénicaud is an anthropologist at CNRS and a member of the Jacques Berque Center in Rabat. His work falls within the field of anthropology of pilgrimage, shared sanctuaries, and interreligious relations in the Mediterranean world. He is also one of the curators of the exhibition Shared Holy Places at the Villa Médicis
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Photo of the cover: the Monastery of Mar Mûsa al-Habashi © Manoël Pénicaud