I have just spent ten days in south-eastern Turkey visiting the monasteries of Ṭūr ‘Abdin. These ancient communities, some dating back to the fourth century, form the heartland of Syrian Orthodox monasticism. The language spoken in the liturgy is Syriac, while in day to day conversation, language flits from Turoyo (Ṭūr ‘Abdinian Aramaic), Turkish, Kurdish, German and English, with classical Syriac being used for the liturgy. But in spite of the variety of languages spoken, Ṭūr ‘Abdin’s own little Pentecost, monastery meals are eaten in silence. Every meal begins and ends with the Lord’s Prayer in Syriac, which is a form of Aramaic, the language spoken by Jesus and his first disciples.

Listening to these words before and after meals, I was struck by the extraordinary sense of continuity as these words are handed on from generation to generation. In a marginalised community, which has in recent decades faced persecution and suspicion, it was moving to contemplate the faithfulness of this community in handing on the faith to young families who were visiting these communities as pilgrims. But it also made me aware how the home is a vital place for handing on the faith. In the past, we may have expected schools and churches to take responsibility for this – but now all of us must do so. Where will future generations learn the Lord’s Prayer? Perhaps if we utter those words in thanksgiving before and after meals, we may yet keep the rumour of God alive in our own generation and give thanks to the God who gives us each day our daily bread.