I don’t know why, but yesterday it came into my mind during our thanksgiving after Holy Communion, to 
share the following excerpt with you. It is from a letter written by our founder to some friends and benefactors (before he founded Mt Tabor, and while he was in the monastery in Africa that he previously founded). Perhaps it is good to know that our own monastery is the fruit of the suffering and dogged determination and faithfulness of Fr Boniface Luykx, missionary and monk. The letter was written from the University Hospital of Lovanium, Kinshasa, Congo, dated September 25, 1968. I’ve edited this only slightly for clarity, wishing to retain the feel of the original and its imperfect English. (A little aside: Fr Boniface and his work were so well known in that country that someone once sent a letter to him addressed only “Fr Boniface, Congo”—and he received it!) If you are tempted to complain about some little trials you may be experiencing, perhaps the following will contribute to your cure.
“It is a long time since you got some news from us here. But recently so many events have happened that even the European papers have written about them. I write to you now, not only to keep you abreast of things happening here, but also to ask the support of your prayer in the great distress we are in at this moment.
“Saturday evening, Sept. 14, after the solemn Vespers of the Holy Cross, we were at supper with 12 of us, we the 2 white ‘Founders’ with the novices and some boys on retreat. On a sudden the dogs started barking; 4 armed robbers had penetrated into the house and stood before us with pistols and sticks. We asked what they wanted, but they answered by shooting on us, by beating and throwing cement bricks. Then we started fighting back (all the others had already fled); they have shot dozens of bullets, the holes are still in the wall, the door and the roof, but none has touched us fatally. (Fr John got 4 shots and I one, above my mouth, very painful, but not fatal ones.) When, after about 20 minutes, Fr John had to give up after losing too much blood, they jumped with 4 on me, beating me like devils; and when they went inside to take 2 lances to pierce us at the wall, I too left the battlefield. Now they had their hands free for stealing the VW, and all became frightfully quiet. We made up the balance of our wounds; Fr John had lost maybe a half-gallon of blood and had his nose broken by a bullet, and many other wounds. I had also lost much blood, had an arm broken and, I thought, a half dozen ribs, but the x-rays later showed the breast was only heavily hurt by stones and bricks they had thrown, and my body was wounded and beaten all over. We were lying there for 2 hours before they came and took us to the hospital. The same night the doctors have worked 4 hours and a half to repair the wounds; this was terribly painful.
“Meanwhile the police had run after the ruffians and caught 2 of them with our car. When, after having been patched up at the hospital, they brought me to the police for cross-examination with the thieves, I found there our Brothers as a beaten flock; they embraced and kissed me of sheer joy, for they thought that both of us were dead. The police, according to Bantu philosophy, had already beaten the robbers so thoroughly that they had become unrecognizable, since they knew too well that they wouldn’t receive any other punishment (one of the 4 is the brother of the minister of Home Affairs, the other is a big shot… etc). So the whole night went on. Sunday noon I could go back to the Monastery: the Commissioner couldn’t believe his eyes, seeing the holes of the bullets, the blood all over, the destruction. But the Monastery was saved.
“I have been a fool by leaving the hospital and coming back so soon: I had high fever, was wounded all over, couldn’t walk or sit, only painfully move around. But we had to save the Monastery! Since I managed to come back, Fr John could receive the necessary care at the hospital: his nose had to be operated on, a slight concussion of the brain demanded absolute rest, and his bloodshed had weakened him very much. As soon as he was back, I have gone to the hospital again, where I am writing you now: they had to break my arm again and drive a pin of 6 inches into the bone to keep the 2 parts straight. It has been very painful, but the doctors did a magnificent job. I hope to be back in a few days in the Monastery, where Fr John is now alone by himself for all the work, running around with an artificial nose, as a ghost.
“This whole year has been extremely hard for us, for many reasons, but this has been the climax of all. To all those who followed the events from close by, 2 conclusions are clear: The whole raid of the robbers had all the outlook of an assault of hell, as if the devils were let loose upon us, to destroy this house of God once and for ever. The attacks have lasted more than a week. Listen: the next day, Sunday, evildoers have burnt almost all our forests (an incalculable loss, almost as the half of the costs of our whole Monastery); 2 days later the police would arrest one of our Brothers under the false accusation of a whore. Thursday a Brother should have come from Europe, we counted so much on him, to help us in our distress, but he didn’t come. Friday, evildoers have put the leg (with flesh and all) of a dead man on our road to frighten us. Monday one of the Brothers has left, by sheer fear, after having frightened the others who don’t feel safe themselves. You see, it has been a terrible time: hell has broken loose against us. But the very fact that the Prince of Evil is so much interested in destroying us is a proof that the monastery is of great importance, and for us an encouragement to persevering in our endeavors, humble and poor though they are. The other conclusion is even stronger: the Lord has visibly preserved us. According to all the ‘rules of nature’ we should have been shot dozens of times but, as the psalm says, the Lord has kept his hand upon us and nothing could hurt us.
“Also, all the proofs of friendship we have received afterwards, from the bishops, the priests, and other friends: all that has been a great comfort for us. Then, the fact that I could stay in the Monastery while Fr John could be treated, so that the Monastery didn’t die, was a great grace (although it has cost some years of my life). Also this second conclusion has strengthened our trust in the Lord: He will not leave us abandoned, we know it now, for sure. He will watch over us as the apple of his eye, as we sing so often in the Office. I know, perhaps you will laugh, as if we were telling a medieval tale, where every foundation of a Monastery is presented as a struggle between God and the devil, and now that the world says ‘God is dead’ a fortiori the devil is dead. But, you see, we try to take the Gospel seriously and to build our whole life upon that, until He comes back. And then we’ll see what we experience now in the darkness of faith…”
Fr Boniface died on Easter Sunday, 2004, so he still had many years to live (and suffer) after the events described above. Surely he is now enjoying a well-deserved rest! I’m quite edified—and humbled—by this account of what true disciples of Christ are willing to suffer for Him. Nothing of enduring value is achieved without faith, determination, patient endurance, and suffering. We may not all be called to be shot and beaten as part of our witness to Christ, but we are called to love and serve Him with our whole heart, mind, soul, and strength. Our own motto or “mission statement” ought to be summed up in the words of Fr Boniface’s profound yet disarmingly simple conclusion to his harrowing experiences: “We try to take the Gospel seriously and to build our whole life upon that.”
