18/02/2026
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18/02/2026
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During a phase of near-disorientation in his life, the young Dutch Jesuit Nicola Klotzer considered becoming a professional painter. Something inside him urged him to pursue a different path. He realized that painting was not his true calling.
Despite his intelligence and determination, he lacked the natural talent for art and struggled to sit before a canvas and paint whatever came to mind. His indecision persisted until the idea of becoming a Jesuit priest suddenly took hold. Jesuit priests were known for their tireless dedication to serving remote communities, sacrificing worldly comforts to aid the poor and needy. His wish was realized when the Jesuit Church in the Netherlands accepted him into its missions, and plans were made for him to travel to Lebanon in the 1970s.
After spending a few months exploring the coastal towns and villages, he realized he had been sent to the wrong place. Nothing in the region seemed to warrant his efforts. The majority of the inhabitants had little need, either materially or spiritually, for a Dutch parish priest. He then decided to seek out remote areas historically neglected by the state. These were regions marked by deprivation and even ecclesiastical neglect.
Many priests and deacons avoided these areas due to their isolation, poverty, or the prospect of living for months in dilapidated churches in sub-zero temperatures, not to mention the difficulty of reaching them because of the rugged terrain. Some people advised him to go to the village of Barqa, possibly founded in 1840 by Simeon Geagea, the subject of yesterday’s article, and the first Maronite in the region.
In Barqa, Nicola found what he had been searching for. The village lacked almost everything. He accepted the challenge and became its parish priest. He built himself a room, began learning Arabic, and quickly succeeded in raising funds from various sources. His efforts first focused on schools, which the region desperately needed. He improved the standard of living, established local crafts and industries, and encouraged villagers to stay rather than emigrate.
After achieving what seemed impossible for the village, he planned to leave for Sudan to dedicate himself to volunteer work, where his services were in even greater demand despite the country’s harsh conditions, civil wars, and hardships.
The villagers were shocked by his decision and pleaded with him to stay. Having accomplished what many others, including the government, had failed to do, he postponed his departure. Shortly thereafter, at the height of the Lebanese Civil War, an outlawed Shiite militia kidnapped, tortured, and murdered him, dumping his body in a deep mountain ravine in May 1985.
I recently returned from a visit to Barqa and sat in the modest room where Father Nicola had lived during his time in the village, a room he built with his own hands. The space measured no more than 10 square meters, with a low ceiling one could almost touch. Inside stood a small, worn iron cupboard with old jackets hung on one side, clothes on the other, along with a couple of pairs of shoes. There was a faded rug, pictures of saints, samples of his Arabic writings, a simple bookcase, an Arabic copy of the Bible, and a few of his modest drawings in inexpensive wooden frames. These were all his earthly possessions. He had no car, no house, no permanent address, nothing more.
In recognition of his invaluable service to the people of the region and the ecclesiastical mission others had declined to undertake, the Vatican found his life and sacrifice worthy of consideration for canonization, given his selflessness and tragic end. Perhaps he will be canonized by the time we make our second visit to Barqa.
Note: All of Barqa’s inhabitants are Maronites, and about 85 percent belong to the Ja‘ja‘ family or clan, whose origins trace back to Bsharri.
By Ahmad alsarraf
e-mail: [email protected]
e-mail: [email protected]
