The Supreme Pontiff, Pope Leo XIV, arrived in the land of the Cedars—shattered by existential challenges, deep crises, and futile politics built on mutual deception. Our country, which was dragged into the “Unity of the Arenas” war two years ago, has turned into an open ground for Israeli military aggression and Iranian incitement-fueled bravado. Destruction is consuming it after political, financial, and economic crises exhausted it to the point of collapse. And here our nation is racing against deadly time as the war drums intensify and direct and indirect messages multiply, all pointing to the end of this year as the ultimate deadline to fully resolve Hezbollah’s weapons—whether north or south of the Litani River. All this comes as the Middle East undergoes a profound upheaval after “7 October,” one that will undoubtedly reshape the region.

The Pope, arriving under the banner “Blessed are the peacemakers,” is deeply aware of this Lebanese national reality and of the suffering of the Christians of the East. But most importantly, he opened his visit last Sunday by placing his finger on the deepest and most dangerous wound, saying from Baabda Palace: “There are personal and collective wounds that require many years—sometimes whole generations—to heal. If they are not treated, if we do not work on cleansing memory and fostering rapprochement between those who suffered harm and injustice, it will be difficult to move toward peace, We will then remain stuck, each imprisoned by his own pain and his own view of things.”

Pope Leo’s words summarize the essence of the problem: the Lebanese civil war—and the wars of others fought on Lebanese soil—ended in 1990 on shaky ground, without daring to confront their lingering residues. Instead of healing the wounds, they were reopened—indeed brutalized—through the entrenchment of a “winner and loser” formula and the imposition of double standards among Lebanon’s components. For example, the Ministry of the Displaced, tasked with overseeing reconciliation in villages and distributing compensation through the Displaced Fund, became the clearest evidence of this shaky foundation, as political clientelism became its standard. Some received many times what they deserved, while others have still not received compensation and saw their files closed. As for the martyrs, the wounded, and detainees, some were branded traitors and left to their suffering and fate, while others were honored, granted salaries, provided treatment, and offered jobs. As for the massacres, some were highlighted for political ends, while others were minimized or erased.

In recent years, certain political figures have shown the courage to acknowledge the crimes they or the parties they represent committed during the war, and to apologize on their behalf—such as Samir Geagea and George Hawi. But others persisted in denial, claiming that their path was free not only of sins but of any mistakes at all. True, we witnessed several reconciliations—perhaps the most effective and lasting being the Mountain Reconciliation, crafted by the late Maronite Patriarch Nasrallah Boutros Sfeir and Druze leader Walid Jumblatt in August 2001—yet many reconciliations lasted only as long as the political interests of one of the parties involved, such as the Maarab Agreement.

In truth, Lebanon will not recover—even if rebuilt and prosperous again—unless its memory is cleansed, a collective journey requiring the courage to acknowledge and apologize on the one hand, and to confront and forgive on the other. It also calls for national, collective, and at times psychological healing to dispel resentments and the deep-rooted fear of the different other. It further requires a serious and definitive resolution of unresolved files, such as the missing and detainees of the Lebanese war, or encroachments on others’ properties—such as the Lassa land dispute, and the Al-Rassoul Al-Aazam Hospital, part of which was built on Christian-owned land and Church endowments.

However, the urgent and mandatory passageway to cleansing memory is to begin by cleansing the present moment—by ending mutual deception and accusations of treason, by stopping the fabrication of utopian narratives about one’s own history and conduct, by acknowledging actions driven by personal motives with collective consequences—such as Hezbollah’s opening of the southern front following the “Al-Aqsa Flood” operation—and by abandoning delusions and claims of victory in the last war. When Pope John Paul II visited Lebanon in May 1997, he called for the cleansing of memory. We wasted 28 years without taking this urgent step; indeed, some only excelled in burdening this memory further. Let us hope that Pope Leo’s call for “cleansing memory” does not remain merely another appeal added to Pope John Paul II’s earlier one, so that fear of the other, hatred, and mutual accusations of treason do not remain embers beneath the ashes.