The virtue of Fortitude enables us to pursue the difficult good on the spiritual journey. The Gift of Fortitude, however, pushes us much further. It gives energy to overcome major obstacles in the way of spiritual growth; it is an enormous reinforcement of the natural and infused virtue of fortitude. The Gift of Fortitude expresses itself in two ways. One is in sustaining people in great ministries that catch the attention of the public. The other is in keeping us faithful to the small duties of daily life in which, for the love of God, we persevere day in and day out in our particular vocation--whether the work be that of a homemaker, grandmother, professional, minister of some kind, or garbage collector. There is a divine way of doing everything. The Spirit shows us how to sanctify our role in life so that we remain in the divine presence. This is why methods of remaining in God's presence are so valuable and necessary if we are seriously pursuing the spiritual journey as an integrated whole.

The instinctual desire for power and control is laid to rest by the Gift of Fortitude, which cannot endure being angry with others. This is not the cringing attitude of passive dependence, however, but rather the unwillingness to put any energy into hostility or anger. The Gift of Fortitude perseveres in seeking the difficult good, even when there is great danger or opposition. The Seven Gifts free us from over-identification with our emotional programs for happiness. When God is present to us all the time, there is no room for fear, because God is the true security.

An eminent example of the exercise of the Gift of Fortitude is the martyrdom of the seven Trappist monks of the monastery of Our Lady of Atlas in Tibhirine, Algeria, in 1996. The mona5tery had been in Algeria for sixty years, serving as a Christian witness within the Islamic country. After the Algerian government canceled an election in 1991 that it was likely to lose, there was great unrest in the former French colony Some Islamist groups, who had been likely to win the election, took up arms against the government, and the government in turn took steps to eradicate them. By 1995, the number of dead had risen, to 50,000--a number that included at least a hundred foreign nationals as well as several priests and religious. The monks of Our Lady of Atlas, who took no sides in the conflict, decided to stay, even when the situation became very grave. Their leader, Dom Christian de Cherge, stated:

For this is what I shall be able to do, if God wills: Immerse my gaze in that of the Father to contemplate with him his children of Islam as he sees them, all shining with the glory of Christ, fruit of his Passion, filled with the gift of the Spirit, whose secret joy will always be to establish communion and to refashion the likeness in playing with the differences.

On the night of 26-27 March 1996, men came to the monastery and abducted seven of the monks. Holding the monks hostage, the abductors demanded the release of rebel hostages held by the government. This was not done and, on 23 May, Cardinal Lustiger of Paris extinguished the seven candles he had lit seven weeks earlier as a prayer for the release of the hostages. A week later, the mutilated remains of the seven were found by the side of the road.

The horrified response to the abduction and death of the monks was widespread, with condemnations from Muslims and Christians around the world. Yet what the Algerian martyrs brought about is quite extraordinary. In many parts of the world, especially in Europe, their witness became prominent. It was, and remains, an answer to the enormous questions that arose in the wake of the tragedy of Rwanda, where 80 percent of the citizens were massacred, and where the people doing the killing were Christians--indeed, mostly Roman Catholics.

What the Algerian martyrs have done is to suggest by their lives and martyrdom a new way of being a missionary. They have also pioneered a new way of being monks and nuns in a cloister. Their lives have a significance that vastly transcends their particular time and place. They are exemplars of a new vision of missionary endeavor that involves not so much converting people to Christianity as fostering communion among the people with whom we live, and manifesting respect, understanding, and appreciation of their religion. Such dispositions are the only way to bring to an end the wars and antipathies that have existed between different religions and sacred traditions since history began.

We are now moving into a global culture, a pluralistic world society where grandiose plans for our own particular religious persuasion are either out of date or inappropriate. To this situation, the Algerian martyrs speak with great power. They did not wish to become martyrs. They simply wanted to have dialogue with their impoverished Muslim neighbors, whom they knew were loved by Christ to the point of his laying down his life for their salvation. They wanted to manifest by their own lives the infinite love of Christ for their Muslim neighbors. To do this, they engaged in the study of the Koran with them without any effort at conversion. They supported a clinic-they had a doctor in their community--provided agricultural know--how, and gave generous hospitality to everyone who came to their guesthouse.

For three years prior to their martyrdom they knew they were risking their lives by staying in their monastery. More precisely, they were risking their lives by continuing to serve their Muslim neighbors and living as one of them. The Koran affirms that holy men living in solitude may not be mistreated, but this protection is not extended to those who participate in the ordinary lives of the people among whom they live. The monks thought through, in their own conscience and in the course of many community discussions, what it meant to remain there. Friends and other missionary associates had already been killed by Islamic extremists. The monks knew what they were facing, but they were dedicated to continuing the dialogue of presence to their neighbors, even in the face of imminent persecution. Without intending to, they pioneered a new kind of dialogue that might be called "dialogue unto death." This phrase reflects, it seems to me, the profoundly dialogical character of the Gospels.

The Algerian martyrs refused to judge or condemn anyone: the killers and those who were killed, the oppressors and those who were oppressed. For them, the human family consisted of brothers and sisters--no enemies, not even friends. Their insight was that the world is advancing toward global unification in such a way that the teaching of Jesus--"that all may be one"--is at last coming into full focus. According to Paul, God wills all to be saved. Thus, God must relate as father and mother to every human person.

The biases and mind sets that the monks brought from Europe were gradually dialogued out of them as they met in frequent community discussions and confronted together the increasing possibility of death. But they were not thinking precisely of dying, still less of the glory of martyrdom. They did not want to be the cause of punishment for those who might kill them. The monks in Algeria were preoccupied with plans to improve the quality of their daily lives and monastic witness in little ways: generous hospitality, prompt forgiveness, mutual understanding, and service to their Muslim neighbors. They had heard the word of God in their particular monastic milieu; and they were prepared to live each moment as ordinary monks, no matter what happened. If they were not martyred, all to the good; if they were, they forgave their killers in advance. They were even ready to credit them with a good intention. The monks believed that their vow of stability bound them to the place, not so much a duty as an invitation to unconditional love. In their way, the monks were, experiencing the pinnacle of the four freedoms to which the Gospel calls us.

First is the freedom from deliberate sin. Second is the freedom from the roots of sin, which are called, in spiritual theology, the capital sins. Third is the freedom that comes from friendship with Christ, and, still more, from bridal mysticism and conscious union with Christ-the experience of being loved by God and of loving God in return. And, finally, there is simply freedom: freedom to be with God in the present moment, whether that involves offering some tiny service, doing the duty of the present moment, or laying down one's life for Christ. As the monks saw it, the choice was all part of the same movement of listening to the word of God--at ever deepening levels--and keeping it.

Thus, little by little, the Gift of Fortitude, in conjunction with the other Gifts, transmutes the energy of anger designed by nature for defensive purposes into zeal for the service of God and the needs of others. It sustains difficult ministries and welcomes the vicissitudes of daily life instead of fighting or resisting them or giving way to feelings of frustration. It establishes a certain firmness of mind and heart in doing good and enduring evil, especially when these are difficult. It manifests its inspiration in the Beatitude: "Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after justice, for they shall be satisfied" (Matt. 5:6).

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Excerpted from Fruits and Gift of the Spirit by Fr. Thomas Keating

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