From Memory to Mission

Reflecting on ecumenism and interreligious dialogue, I have often felt frustration over how little progress is being made: few initiatives, limited collaboration, and slow results. Yet over time, I have learned that this frustration cannot simply be projected outward. There are contributions I can make myself, and responsibilities that belong to all of us. I would like to frame this reflection around three difficulties and three constructive responses. All are directly connected to the challenge of healing wounded memories, particularly in Southeastern Europe.

1. Three difficulties

a) The weaponization of history

Across our region, historical memory often functions less as a field of scholarly inquiry and more as a political tool. Competing narratives are used to justify present agendas and mobilize collective emotions. Instead of offering understanding, history becomes a mechanism for constructing and preserving collective wounds. Communities continuously revisit past traumas, inheriting not only the memory of suffering but also the emotional posture that accompanies it.

This situation produces a cycle of perpetual traumatization. Croats, Serbs, Bosniaks, and others all have long lists of historical grievances: invasions, occupations, wars, betrayals, forced conversions and mass expulsions. Each community can trace centuries of victimhood, and each tends to emphasise its own narrative. As a result, people increasingly see themselves either as historically wronged or unfairly accused, leaving little room for mutual recognition.

Such an atmosphere prevents the healing of wounded memories. Instead of addressing contemporary injustices – autocratic leadership, corruption, failing institutions, weak social protection – societies return again and again to inherited grievances. This fixation distracts from present challenges and blocks the emergence of a shared civic horizon. When people interpret current events exclusively through the lens of historical trauma, genuine ecumenical and interreligious encounter becomes extremely difficult.

b) The survival instinct in civilizational borderlands

The second difficulty arises from the geopolitical positioning of our region. Eastern and Southeastern Europe lie at the intersection of Western Christianity, Eastern Orthodoxy, and Islam. Historically this produced rich cultural exchanges, but it also fostered layers of insecurity. Communities living on perceived civilizational borders often internalize a sense of vulnerability. They develop defensive mentalities and heightened suspicion toward outsiders.

In such environments, states tend to consolidate political, economic, and ideological power. Religious institutions may be drawn into these projects and encouraged to act as guardians of collective identity rather than as promoters of dialogue. The result is a climate in which diversity is perceived as a threat and interreligious cooperation as a risk. The survival instinct, at both political and religious levels, works against the openness required for healing wounded memories.

c) The temptation of the Church to seek power

The third difficulty concerns the internal life of the Churches themselves. Faced with demographic decline, social marginalization, and political uncertainties, Churches can easily become preoccupied with their own survival. When that happens, the Church begins to function primarily as an institution that protects its internal interests. It defines itself over and against others, aligns itself with nationalist agendas, and focuses more on preserving influence than on embodying the Gospel.

Such a Church loses its prophetic voice. It becomes, in effect, a national Church, serving primarily “its own people” and overlooking the stranger, the migrant, the poor, and the religiously different. When the Church falls into this temptation, it not only fails to heal wounded memories but often deepens existing divisions. A Church occupied with its own power cannot lead the process of reconciliation.

2. Three responses

a) Dialogue as an antidote to historical division

Dialogue is extremely demanding, yet it is indispensable for healing wounded memories. It requires patience, humility, and willingness to be challenged. It also requires persistence in contexts where dialogue is viewed with suspicion. But Christianity itself emerges from a dialogue: God speaks with humanity and invites humanity to respond.

Dialogue must therefore be a central Christian practice. It begins not with formal declarations but with everyday encounters: listening to the narratives of others, acknowledging their suffering, and allowing space for their experiences. Dialogue humanizes the other and softens hardened memories. Healing occurs when individuals and communities begin to see one another not as inherited enemies but as partners in a shared search for peace. Even small gestures of hospitality, shared meals, and simple expressions of interest can become seeds of trust that gradually transform wounded relationships.

b) Co-responsibility as a response to civilizational tensions

A second response is the cultivation of co-responsibility. Even minority communities bear responsibility for the societies in which they live. The Gospel image of Christians as the “salt of the earth” suggests that influence does not depend on numbers but on moral quality. By investing in education, promoting historical literacy, and strengthening theological and civic formation, religious communities can raise the standards of public life.

Co-responsibility also means resisting narratives that foster fear and exclusivism. Instead, religious communities can model constructive citizenship: defending human dignity, advocating for justice, and developing projects that others hesitate to initiate. A responsible minority can become a creative minority, serving as a stabilizing moral presence within society.

c) Solidarity as a cure for the temptation of power

Finally, solidarity provides a remedy for the Church’s temptation to self-preservation. A Church centred on the poor, the marginalized, the migrant, and the excluded cannot become a nationalist Church. When solidarity becomes the heart of ecclesial life, the Church naturally turns outward. Healing wounded memories occurs not only through dialogue but through shared service—when believers of different traditions work side by side on behalf of those in greatest need.

The “preferential option for the poor,” articulated by Pedro Arrupe and integrated into Catholic social teaching, provides a compelling framework here. It ensures that ecumenical actions remain grounded not in abstract theological ideals but in concrete acts of compassion. By placing the vulnerable at the center, solidarity prevents the Church from collapsing into self-interest and opens pathways for reconciliation among divided communities.

Conclusion

Healing wounded memories requires patience, courage, and a willingness to change. By embracing dialogue, co-responsibility and solidarity, religious communities can move beyond inherited grievances, resist the pressures of geopolitical insecurity, and overcome the temptation of institutional self-protection. These three responses offer a practical and spiritual foundation for positive initiatives that can help our region move toward deeper reconciliation and enduring peace.

Stanko Perica, SJ