Allow me to introduce you to a friend of mine. I hope by the end of this article he will be a friend of yours too and a friend to thousands more in time.
I first met Father Ragheed Ganni in the Irish College in Rome in 2002, where both of us were postgraduate students. Despite being from Iraq, he had a good command of English and was studying ecumenism at the Angelicum. He was an engineer before entering seminary, with a broad range of interests including table tennis and soccer. He was easy to relate to, well respected, and a friend to all. Like the other priests in the college, I admired him for his faithfulness and commitment to his Christian faith that was lived as a minority religion in a hostile environment. I admired that his identity was strong and clear—to be a Catholic Christian with others and ordained to serve his people as their good shepherd.
In February 2003, he finished his studies with distinction and in March the college community said goodbye as he returned to his home diocese of Mosul in Iraq. We were worried for him as he was returning home to a politically unstable situation with Christian persecution on the rise. Upon arriving home, he was appointed pastor of a large parish, but soon after, dark clouds began to gather. He was warned several times by extremists to shut down his parish and send the people away, but he refused and insisted that as long as the people needed him, he was not going to abandon them.
In May 2005, Father Ragheed was invited to speak at a Eucharistic Congress in Bari in southeast Italy to share his experience of living as a Christian under persecution. On that occasion, he shared two profoundly inspiring insights.
Concerning the Eucharist and what it meant for the Christians of Iraq, Father Ragheed said:
Mosul Christians are not theologians; some are even illiterate. And yet inside of us for many generations one truth has become embedded: Without the Sunday Eucharist, we cannot live. For us, the terrorists take life, but the Eucharist gives it back.
He spoke these words as one of hundreds of people who took their lives into their own hands by gathering for the celebration of the Eucharist each Sunday. His witness was powerful, drawing stark contrast to our own occasional apathy toward the Mass and how much we take religious freedom for granted in the West.
“When I hold the host in my hands, it is really he who is holding me and all of us.”
In Bari, he also shared another experience on what the Eucharist meant for him as a Christian and priest:
There are days when I feel frail and full of fear. But when holding the Eucharist, I say, ‘Behold the Lamb of God. Behold him who takes away the sins of the world,’ then I feel his strength in me. When I hold the host in my hands, it is really he who is holding me and all of us.
The last time I saw Father Ragheed was in November 2006 when he returned to Rome for the final time. I clearly recall the morning I helped him write a letter to the president of Ireland, asking her to highlight the cause of his suffering people under threat of their lives. On our way out for a coffee break, I noticed he was limping. I asked him what was wrong, and he said, “My legs hurt. In Iraq, I can’t leave the house except for Mass because it’s too dangerous. Therefore, I can’t exercise.” He then told me about what life was like for him and the Christians of his parish. I was humbled by how much he was suffering to be faithful to Christ and how light my crosses were in comparison to theirs. Yet despite the increasing danger, Father Ragheed knew that among his people was where he belonged.
On June 3, 2007, having celebrated Sunday Mass on the feast of the Most Holy Trinity, Father Ragheed Ganni was murdered along with three subdeacons.
I will never forget the sadness we all felt on hearing the news. Yet, having spoken so movingly in Bari in 2005 about the importance of the Eucharist in his life, it was a source of great consolation to us that his blood was poured out for his faith after having ministered at the altar an hour before, where Christ the high priest and martyr poured out his Blood and gave his Body out of love for us all.
The Chaldean Church mourned the death of their beloved son. We mourned our beloved brother, as did many other people who knew Father Ragheed. We were all distraught on hearing about his death because suddenly Christian persecution had become real in a way that woke us out of our complacency. After the death of Ragheed, we realized that praying to the martyrs is one thing. Knowing a martyr is another.
For us who were blessed to know Ragheed, his life and death is a link to a chain of thousands of martyrs around the world. Christianity has been firmly established in Iraq for nearly two thousand years, but from the fourth century to the present day, Christians in countries like Iraq have faced periods of terrible persecution. In 2018, near the eleventh anniversary of the deaths of Father Ragheed and his companions, it was announced that their cause had already been opened in Rome at the Dicastery for the Causes of Saints. Our dear friend is now known as Father Ragheed Ganni, Servant of God. It will be a source of great joy when, God willing, Ragheed will be beatified and canonized a saint of the Church.
Father Ragheed Ganni is indeed a hero for all priests but also for all Christians. He teaches us to treasure and protect our religious liberty. But his story also urges us never to forget those deprived of that freedom. He pushes us to be clear about what being a Christian means and the commitment needed to remain a disciple of Jesus Christ through good times and bad. He brings us back to the Eucharist as the beating heart of our faith and the source of strength to so many whose only crime is their faith in the Lord Jesus. His memorable words of “It is really he who is holding me” is a powerful testimony of our communion with Christ when we receive the Eucharist, the intimate fusion of his divinity with our humanity and the boundless love and strength that enables us to face any trial or difficulty.
Finally, Father Ragheed Ganni taught me what it means to belong to the universal Church. Before I knew him, the martyrs were historical figures of the past scattered around the world. With Ragheed’s death, their witness came close and became a living stream of inspiration toward fidelity to Christ and the mission he has entrusted to us in the modern world. Ragheed was one of thousands who suffered enormously for the faith, and many continue to do so. These are our brothers and sisters who hold on to their faith and the truth of the Gospel while inspiring us to hold firm to ours. May the Lord who held Father Ragheed in the Eucharist and in life hold him now for all eternity in paradise.