Laghouat — A month ago, Pope Leo XIV made a historic visit to Algerian soil. He encountered a people of deep faith and celebrated Mass in the Basilica of St. Augustine in Annaba. Prior to this, he had visited the archaeological site of ancient Hippo, the city where the saint of the "Confessions" and the "City of God" was bishop. In his homily, he made a powerful appeal to the local Christian community: "Dearest Christians of Algeria, you remain a humble and faithful sign of Christ's love in this land. Bear witness to the Gospel through simple gestures, genuine relationships, and a dialogue lived out day by day: In this way, you bring flavor and light to the places where you live.
Your presence in this country is like incense: a glowing grain that spreads fragrance because it gives glory to the Lord and joy and comfort to so many brothers and sisters." This incense is "a small, precious element" a symbol of a discreet yet persistent presence, was encouraged by the Pope to spread its "sweet fragrance" through praise, blessing, and supplication.
The appeal did not fall on deaf ears. In the Diocese of Laghouat Ghardaïa, Bishop Diego Sarrió Cucarella, a Spanish missionary of the White Fathers and former President of the Pontifical Institute for Arabic and Islamic Studies (PISAI) in Rome from 2017 to 2024, has just published his first pastoral letter. In it, he reflects on the invitation of Pope Leo XIV and recalls the Algerian desert as a place where the witness of those baptized in the name of Christ also resonates. "Regarding the theme of the desert, it stems primarily from the concrete experience of our local Church. In southern Algeria, the desert is not merely a geographical reality: it is a spiritual and human school," the bishop told Fides. "The desert reminds us of our fragility, our need for others, and our need for God. It teaches us sobriety, what is essential, patience, and concrete fraternity." Another crucial factor was the Pope's visit. "I wanted to publish this letter now because the Holy Father's visit was a grace and a light for us," the bishop emphasized, adding that the Pope's words helped the community "to re-internalize our vocation as a small church in the midst of a predominantly Muslim population." "I also believe that the visit was of great significance for the entire Algerian society. Many perceived in the Holy Father's gestures and words a sincere respect for the history, religious identity, and dignity of the Algerian people. His calls for peace, fraternity, and dialogue resonated deeply, especially in a country whose memory of the conflicts of past years is still vivid," he continues. "We also hope that the climate of trust and mutual respect strengthened by this visit will, over time, bring about positive developments in some administrative and legal areas concerning the life of the Catholic Church in the country, always in the spirit of dialogue and the common good." "I believe one of the most valuable fruits was making visible that "dialogue of everyday life" which is lived here daily in a simple and discreet way: relationships of friendship, mutual hospitality, human closeness, and mutual respect between Christians and Muslims," he emphasizes. In particular, the image of the "grain of incense" expresses with simplicity and depth what this ecclesial presence is called to: "a discreet, fraternal, prayerful presence that does not seek the limelight, but rather fidelity to the Gospel," the bishop observes.
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The letter begins precisely with this symbol. By returning to the image of the grain of incense, it affirms that the Church is not defined by categories of power, influence, or success, but by the evangelical logic of sacrifice, discretion, and hidden fruitfulness. For this reason, the letter has a contemplative tone. The bishop does not propose a program with easily implemented recipes, but rather a spiritual meditation on the form to which Christian witness is called in this country, structured around three dimensions: a humble presence among the Algerian people, a life given silently, and a constant orientation toward God, from whom alone true fraternity can be born. The desert, the Bishop writes, is not "only a geographical reality, but a true spiritual school."
The long papal quotation in the letter powerfully illustrates this: "In the desert, one cannot survive alone. The harshness of nature relativizes any claim to self-sufficiency and reminds us all that we need one another, and that we need God." The bishop understands this statement as a fitting interpretation for the present day. In the desert, illusions of self-sufficiency crumble, and precisely for this reason, the Church can rediscover its most authentic face: a community of relationships and mutual dependence under God's gaze, for the desert is the place where God speaks to the hearts of his people. It is a place of testing and, at the same time, of purification, where Christ himself retreats before his mission. "The desert does not impoverish us, but rather gives us new orientation. It does not enclose us, but opens us to what is essential," Bishop Diego Sarrió Cucarella continues. The desert takes on very concrete forms in this regard. The bishop recalls the suffering of the migrants who cross the Sahara and warns us that, like the Mediterranean Sea, it must never become a place where hope is extinguished or human life is forgotten. In this context, Charles de Foucauld is a key figure in this "school of the desert." The bishop particularly emphasizes his style: "The most impressive aspect of his life is not primarily what he did, but how he lived. He came without any apparent plans or human ambitions. He simply chose to live in this land, to share the lives of the people around him, and to stand before God in humble, daily faithfulness." To support his point, he quotes the reflection of the "universal brother's meditation" on Luke 8:16: "Our whole being, our entire essence, must shout the gospel from the rooftops; our whole being must be a living proclamation, a reflection of Jesus." It is therefore not about exhausting oneself in missionary activism, but above all about allowing oneself to be filled by Christ. "To be like a grain of incense means to accept not being the center of attention," the bishop emphasizes. "Incense only releases its fragrance when it is burned," and this becomes a metaphor for "faithfulness in simple and repetitive things," for "patience in relationships," for "perseverance in difficulties," for "self-giving without recognition." More than a general theology of the minority, Bishop Cucarella develops a theology of relationship and simplicity, of the authenticity of Christian life, which shapes a concrete ecclesial lifestyle: small but not self-absorbed, fragile but not fearful, contemplative but not disembodied, fraternal without ambitions of dominance. A Church that embraces its own smallness not as a failure, but as the space in which God can work more freely. Here, the phrase "like a grain of incense" unfolds its true meaning, for it shows that Christian fruitfulness in an age often obsessed with visibility and numbers can have the simple face of a presence that prays, serves, accompanies, and, through the simple gestures of everyday life, fills the air with a delicate fragrance of the Gospel. (ML) (Fides News Agency, 20/5/2026)
Attachment to the article
Pastoral Letter from Diego Sarrió Cucarella