“Every man is a flame, created by our Lord to illuminate the world. Every man is a lamp, which God has made to shine and give light.”

Youssef Antoun is the son of farmers and lives with his four siblings in a village in Lebanon. His childhood ends early: his father dies when he is three, but his mother remarries a pious man who eventually becomes a priest, following Eastern custom. It is a joy for Youssef to listen to him, just as it is a joy to talk about his two hermit uncles in the Valley of the Saints. To him, they are superheroes, and he would like to follow their example, but he cannot: he has to help his family, he is told, and so at the age of ten he begins to be a shepherd, but he spends all his free time praying in a grotto, now a pilgrimage destination called “the Cave of the Saint.” Until that night.

“Come and follow me!”

It wasn’t that Youssef hadn’t heard the Lord calling him before; it was simply that he didn’t want to disobey his family’s wishes. That night, however, the Lord’s voice was particularly clear, insistent… and he could bear it no longer: he got up, and without greeting anyone, before dawn he was already on his way to the monastery of Our Lady of Mayfouq. It was 1851, and he was 23 years old. In a few months, he became a monk of the Lebanese Maronite Order and changed his name to Charbel, which in Syriac means “the story of God.” He was transferred a couple of times, studied theology diligently, and cared for the poor and the sick, in obedience to the missions entrusted to him over time, including working in the fields. But it was prayer and contemplation that he preferred.

From the grotto of childhood to the hermitage of old age

In 1875, Father Charbel felt ready to live according to the Rule of the Hermits of the Maronite Order, which stipulates that monks divide themselves into small communities of no more than three people. For him, it was like a second birth: he could work, pray, observe penance, fasting, and silence. Accounts describe a zealous monk, often found praying with open arms in a very poor cell, who only left to celebrate Mass or when expressly ordered to do so. Until that day, on Christmas. It was precisely during Mass that Charbel fell ill, at the moment of the elevation of the Host. After an eight-day agony, during which the other monks heard him praying and during which he continued to observe the Rule—refusing, for example, the most nourishing food—he died. The year was 1898.

His death: a seed that bears much fruit

But death, as we know, is not the end. After a few months, miracles began to occur. Many monks swore they saw Brother Charbel’s tomb at night, illuminated by an unnatural light. One day, it was opened, and his body was found intact, with the body temperature of a living being. This happened twice more, when the tomb was opened again because the body exuded a mixture of blood and water. During the last inspection, in 1950, his face was imprinted on a cloth, and many of those present experienced instant healings. The fame of this quiet little monk, who began to be invoked for holiness, spread, and miraculous healings multiplied through his intercession. The Church no longer had any doubts: it was Paul VI who beatified him and then canonized him. He recalled him thus: “He can help us understand, in a world fascinated by comfort and wealth, the great value of poverty, penance, and asceticism, to liberate the soul in its ascent to God.” After the beatification, Father Charbel’s body no longer exuded.