The Saidnaya icon exudes a wonderful fragrance

Synthèse :

On the eve of the Feast of the Annunciation to Mary, while visiting Damascus, Father Elias Zahlaoui, priest of the Greek Catholic-Melkite Church of Notre-Dame and spiritual director of Myrna Nazzour (Cf the Soufanieh apparitions), invited me to a concert by his choir, the famous Choir of Joy-Damascus, whose reputation has spread beyond the borders of the Middle East. The performance, dedicated entirely to the Virgin Mary, deeply moved me, not only by its quality but also by the fervour of the young chorists. As I congratulated the priest, I asked him how to get to the monastery of Saidnaya (a village about thirty kilometres from Damascus) the next day. This monastery is dedicated to the Virgin Mary and, according to tradition, houses her portrait painted by the apostle Saint Luke.

"I'll send you Fadi Thouma, a young man from the choir who will be very happy to drive you there", he said immediately. And so, on that feast of the Annunciation, Fadi and I met on the road once taken by the Byzantine emperor Justinian I, who was crossing Syria to attack the Persians.

"Do you know the story of Saidnaya?" I asked him. He hesitated. I told him: "Do you know where the name 'Saidnaya' comes from? From two Syriac words: Naya meaning 'Our' and Seida meaning 'Lady'. Another etymology links it to the emperor Justinian, naya meaning "place or location" and seida "hunt"... It is said that at one point, when the troops had stopped to rest and quench their thirst, the emperor went a little to the side. Suddenly, he spotted a magnificent gazelle. Overcome with an irresistible urge to hunt it, he pursued it until it stopped on a rocky hill. It seemed to be waiting for the emperor, then it moved towards a spring and there, suddenly transformed, it changed into the figure of the Virgin Mary, whose hand reached out towards him and said to him: "No, you will not kill me, Justinian, but you will build a church for me here on this hill". Then the vision disappeared... Surprised by this vision, Justinian ordered his architects to draw up a plan, and it is even said that the Virgin guided their hands."

Fadi was astonished and, quite simply, as we started talking, he told me about "the events of Soufanieh", which began six years earlier with apparitions, oozing of oil, messages and stigmata, and that were becoming known far beyond Damascus and Syria. Fadi was puzzled and had doubts about all these reports. I listened to him thinking that faith is a grace given to us to be shared, a gift we receive that is intended to bear fruit.

The road seemed almost empty after the busy, noisy streets of Damascus. The sky was pure blue, but in the distance a storm loomed. Suddenly, splashing against the windscreen, a splendid rainbow appeared above the rocky spur, detached from the bare, rugged mountain range towards which we were heading. We left the highway, crossed the village and arrived at the monastery.

A strong gust of wind, accompanied by rain and sleet, greeted us, while a nun, dressed in a woolen habit, quickly motioned us to come take shelter inside the monastery. Built on a peak, the monastery is built on different levels, light and airy, despite its impressive size. We followed the nun to the grotto, carved out of the rock, which contains the treasure we had come to see: to pray and meditate in the presence of the icon.

This immaculate white monastery has one of the four icons of the Virgin Mary attributed to Saint Luke the Evangelist. It is known as "al Chaghoura", meaning "the very famous one".

At the end of a courtyard, we passed through a small doorway, lowered our heads, took off our shoes, and entered into a room that appeared round in the flickering light of candles. The nun who preceded us disappeared to the back, shrouded in darkness. The floor is carpeted, there is an altar in the middle and one behind, and a tabernacle with a grilled door, at the back of which we could make out the holy icon.

Fadi and I were kneeling side by side, and began praying. We couldn't hear a breath, but a palpable, sensitive presence inhabits this out-of-this-world place... Suddenly there was a smell in the air, so enjoyable and penetrating that it seemed that had just deliberately spread an extremely sweet perfume. I turned to Fadi: "Can you smell this perfume? Where does it come from?"He whispered: "Yes, I can smell it. I don't know where it's coming from."

I glanced at the door behind me: someone may have come in... In the shadows, I could make out the lighter oval of the nun's face, motionless. I inserted a finger between the meshes of the grating, towards a small shiny metal part of the icon, which I touched. It was wet, and, as I withdrew my hand, the penetrating smell became stronger and enveloped us. Yes, that's where the subtle, unique scent that now filled the whole grotto came from. Fadi was shaking and, together, we bowed our head to the ground. Fadi went outside first and waited for me, visibly moved, eyes brimming with repressed tears.

I called out to the nun who followed me outside with a serene expression: "Did you smell that perfume too, Sister?" She smiled, happy for us, and nodded, her hands hidden in her sleeves:

"Yes," she said, "I smelt it."
- Does that happen often here?
- Not often, but it does happen sometimes! Our mother is waiting for you; I'll take you to her." She slipped into the large sitting room and whispered in the ear of Mother Christina, who was sitting straight and with a commanding air, on a velvet armchair, her hands crossed over a crucifix held in place by a heavy gold chain.

"So, you're back in Syria; Father Elias told me. Welcome!
- Thank you, Mother, and forgive our confusion and emotion. We came on this feast day to honour the Blessed Virgin, and she has given us a deeply moving sign.
- You received a sign on 25 March, a date that recalls the merging of the kingdom of Heaven with Earth. On this blessed day, we give thanks to God who burst into our lives at the beginning of our era, through two women, Mary and Elizabeth, her cousin, true prophetesses of the New Testament, according to a plan that is beyond our understanding. This is what we celebrate today, because these children, whom they both agreed to have, represented the future of the world."

My young friend and I were well aware of the mystery of the Incarnation, but this surprising manifestation produced wonder in us. Mother Christina continued:

"Do you think that Mary, hearing the knock at the door, was not 'troubled' that morning; that she did not wonder which Virgin, chosen from among all the women of humanity, it was? Was it God who had found in her the most pure, the most beautiful, the most immaculate? And whose Son was it? It is certain that the angel Gabriel must also have hesitated before revealing the whole truth, for fear of intimidating this chosen one of Heaven, and above all without knowing whether Mary would accept his announcement? God always surprises us.
- Your sister told us that this exudation sometimes happens...
- It happens most often on liturgical feasts, but also in private settings. It's always a very powerful and moving moment. Human first used perfume for sacred ceremonies. As old as the origins of the world, invisible, precious and persistent, perfume remains surrounded by a halo of mystery. In all cultures, in the Old and New Testaments, its presence is rare and captivating. The Magi offered frankincense and myrrh to the Child Jesus. From perfumed oil to ointment, it is exhaled, burnt or mixed. You know that in the East, these olfactory signs are quite common to honour, among others, the woman who has been visited by the Holy Spirit. It also happens, and I have witnessed it, that the flow of perfumed oil that you have seen today is so abundant that it covers the floor of the grotto. We collect it carefully and offer it to the sick when they come to visit the Chaghoura. But I also remember that, on the eve of the Second World War, the icon exuded water and black oil, like the thick leaden blanket that was going to cover the world. We were terrified. It's a profound mystery that we must accept in our hearts with humility, an invitation to let ourselves be loved by God and to love him.
- Do you experience other events here at the convent?
- Yes, of course! Here in this little village of fifteen thousand souls, we receive pilgrims from all over the world, thousands every year, from all denominations. Some come to say thank you, others to ask for graces for spiritual or physical cures, and by praying together we obtain them... Our Lady of Saidnaya has always been a great intercessor throughout her history: we have a register that my sisters keep and that can be consulted. I'm thinking of the last three miracles: Georges Sérafin, a blind man with total blindness in one eye, from Mekarké (between Aleppo and Hama); a young Muslim woman from Damascus, from the Ayoubi family, married and with three children (a case that came under psychiatry); and another young woman, also Muslim, with a terminal breast tumour. These last three cures are undisputable. I would add that, after it was built in 547, the monastery received the icon from the holy city of Jerusalem, where it was already considered "miraculous". Our archives say that heavenly voices sometimes rose from inside the icon when it was on display. This fragrance that has enveloped you calls out to you personally, and God's spirit will enlighten you."

On the way home, we didn't say much. Why did Our Lady choose us? "It really was a unique perfume, the scent of the Virgin," Fadi said, breaking the silence. I must admit that I was delighted when Father Elias asked me to accompany you to Saidnaya; I accepted without hesitation. With you, I put into words a certain unease, a questioning after the events of Soufanieh, so intense that they turned the lives of young people like me upside down. And the Blessed Virgin, through this sign, took the trouble to answer me!" He wept like a child, and I gave thanks in my heart.

Aller plus loin :

Jean-Claude Antakli, Itinéraire d'un chrétien d'Orient, Éditions du Parvis, 5th updated and expanded edition, 2022.

En savoir plus :

Jean-Claude Antakli, Le Silence de Dieu, Éditions du Parvis, 2012.