Bishop Jean-Marie Lovey of Sion, Switzerland, discusses the fire that broke out on the night of January 1 and caused more than 40 deaths and hundreds of injuries, emphasizing, “The Church is called to share the pain and to make itself present: families must believe in the possibility of light.”
“Faced with a tragedy that has profoundly shaken the local community, the Church is first of all called to a silent and shared presence.”
This is the reflection Bishop Jean-Marie Lovey of Sion, Switzerland offered to Vatican News in the hours following the tragedy that occurred on the night of January 1 in Crans-Montana, Switzerland, which has thus far caused more than 40 deaths and hundreds of injuries.
The Bishop celebrated a Mass in suffrage for the victims in the church of the Swiss municipality in the wake of the tragedy, in the presence of more than 400 people who, at the end of the service, then went to the site of the fire to lay flowers.
In this interview, Bishop Lovey focused precisely on the fact that “the church was completely full,” a sign of a pastoral response born from the widespread need of the community “to gather, to come together again, to live together,” because “loneliness, especially at times like this, is too heavy to bear.”
A presence which, he explained, coincides with the very heart of faith: “To be with the one who is alone, to console those who find themselves alone, to ensure a presence: this is the very being of God.”
Bishop Lovey, what atmosphere prevails in the diocese after this tragedy?
The atmosphere is heavy and charged. There are many emotions, incomprehension, and questions.
On Thursday evening I was in Montana for the Eucharistic celebration. People are asking themselves: how could this have happened? What happened? There are many expectations, requests for clarification, incomprehension regarding what was experienced. It is so terribly painful.
How do you manage to make yourself present amid this despair?
I immediately contacted the parish priest to see what was being organized on the pastoral level. It is not a matter of immediately going physically to the site; space must be left for the police, public authorities, the healthcare system, hospitals, and families.
But the first initiative that was carried out was the Mass, on Thursday evening at 6 p.m. I therefore took part in this celebration, in a packed church. People need to gather, to come together again, to live together the emotion and perhaps the comfort that presence can offer.
At the end of the celebration, in the presence of the pastor of the Reformed Church of Montana, the president of the Swiss Synod, and the Synodal Council of the Valais Church, we arranged a second moment that will take place this Sunday in Montana, in the town’s second church, in the presence of the Reformed community.
Meanwhile, today and tomorrow the parishes of Montana are also ensuring a pathway inside places of worship, so that people who wish to come and sign a book of remembrance, take a time of prayer, lay flowers or a candle, and find a heart attentive and open to listening, may do so.
And then, on Thursday evening, after the celebration, the vicar general went to the town center where, above all, young people gathered to lay down their pain, their questions, their distress as well, with the gesture of leaving a flower or a candle, in an impressive silence.
Do you sense a deep need for consolation among the faithful?
Yes, because loneliness is too heavy to bear and too heavy to live with in cases like these. The specific ministry of Christianity is precisely that of communion, of community: being with those who are alone, consoling those who find themselves alone.
Ensuring a presence—this is the very being of God. God defines Himself as the One who is with. And here there is a very strong expectation, even if it is not always explicitly expressed.
But there is a real expectation on the part of those most immediately affected, of the wounded families. There is a very strong expectation of being recognized in their suffering. Of sharing a word, a moment, a gesture, a look, a silence.
For those who do not know the place, what is the spiritual and religious profile of Crans-Montana?
It is a sports and holiday resort, inhabited in peak season—as is the case now—by a very heterogeneous population. There are people coming from all countries. There are many Italian tourists who frequent Montana. Many Italian families will be truly and deeply affected. There are people who come from farther away, from various countries.
It has happened to me many times to celebrate in Montana, and there are many participants at liturgical celebrations. The vacation context also allows people who perhaps do not have the habit of regular practice in everyday life to rediscover a time for prayer, a time of silence, a time of nourishment from the Word. The Protestant community is also well present on the plateau.
There is something very universal in what happens and is lived in Montana. It is a beautiful image of the Church.
What can be said about the help and solidarity taking place in the region, and also coming from outside?
It is something absolutely indispensable. Political leaders, police authorities, and healthcare officials from hospitals testify to this magnificent solidarity and to the competence and sense of responsibility with which people are committing themselves.
Solidarity is not manifested only within the Canton of Valais or Switzerland; it is also visible from outside. A number of seriously injured people have been evacuated to various hospitals in Switzerland, neighboring France, and Italy.
There is truly something wonderful happening. It is comforting, because all of this is being lived with spontaneity and professionalism.
What would you like to say to the families affected by this tragedy?
At the beginning of this new year, I would like to be able to convey a message of hope that lies at the heart of the Christian mission and the Christian message, beyond the drama. And God knows how terrible it is. Beyond these dark and black clouds, beyond the fire of this bar and what it represents as a burden in the lives of families, I would like to say that a light is possible.
The Christian message, the message of Christmas, the message of the Epiphany that we will celebrate in two days, is precisely this: upon the land of darkness and upon those who lived in the shadow of suffering and pain, a light shines.
God can enter the hearts of those who are struck. He has done so through His Son. He has done so by His very nature: conforming Himself to the smallest, the poorest, and those who are in pain. I would like families to be able to believe that light is possible.
